Pacifist Memorial Day

It's Memorial Day here in the United States. Which is kind of a weird day for me. It's a day that we set aside to honor persons who have died in the Armed Forces. We do this, of course, by not going to work on Monday and cooking meat over fire. Also, frequently beer is involved. Usually cheap beer. Because 'Merica.

So we celebrate in slightly strange ways. And perhaps a better celebration, which many of my friends on Facebook seem to have done, is to visit local monuments that honor locals who have died while in the Armed Forces.

Seeing those lists of names, especially if some of them share names with you, makes one feel the weight of their sacrifice in a much more real way than putting out a flag one Monday morning.

For folks who are not regular readers (welcome!), I am a pacifist who is highly suspicious of any kind of nationalism, especially in the church. I do not think that the United States is a Christian Nation, or that we have some kind of mandate from heaven to spread our way of life throughout the world. So Memorial Day, when our culture celebrates death as a glorious sacrifice on the altar of freedom, is a little difficult for me to get behind.

For much of my life, the cultural call was to "Support the Troops." I've never had any problem with that. I think it should go beyond bumper stickers and flag-shaped lapel pins to things like veterans benefits and body armor, but that's just me. In my experience, supporting the troops often meant unquestioning support of their mission, whatever it may be. Without naming any specifics, I've got to say there have been some missions on which we have sent our troops with which I disagree.

If "Support the Troops" means that we assume they can do no wrong, then I cannot do that. Soldiers and their commanders are people too, and people mess up. The nobility of soldiers is in their willingness to sacrifice themselves for others. Those who have done so are worth honoring.

But every time a soldier dies, either in combat, or as a homeless veteran on the street, or anything in between, we as a society have failed them. Every time a soldier is burdened with the responsibility of doing violence to another human being, we as a society have failed them. Perhaps our weightiest failure is that rather than paying for our own failures, we ask the military and their families to bear the burden of paying for our lifestyle with their lives.

So perhaps the best way of honoring those who are willing to sacrifice their lives for our national ideals is to no longer ask them to do so.

I am very grateful that there are men and women who are willing to die and to kill for the idea of America, and that the sacrifice of those who have gone before us makes our lifestyles possible. My prayer is that we will not treat the soldier's noble selflessness as a tool to spread our ideology, but as a cost too dear to be asked lightly.

#Witness

#Witness from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

Isaiah 43:8-13

⁸Bring out the blind people

who have eyes,

the deaf ones who have ears. 

⁹All the nations are gathered together,

the peoples are assembled.

Which of them announced this?

Who predicted to us the past events?

Let them bring their witnesses 

as a defense;

let them hear and say, “It’s true!”

¹⁰You are my witnesses, say the LORD,

my servant whom I chose,

so that you would

know and believe me

and understand that I am the one.

Before me no god was formed;

after me there has been no other.

¹¹I, I am the LORD,

and there is no savior besides me.

¹²I announced, I saved, I proclaimed,

not some stranger among you.

You are my witnesses, says the LORD,

and I am God.

¹³From the dawn of time, I am the one.

No one can escape my power.

I act, and who can undo it?

This is the Word of the Lord,

Thanks be to God

John 9:1-7, 24-38

¹As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth. ²Jesus’ disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned so that he was born blind, this man or his parents?”

³Jesus answered, “Neither him nor his parents. This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him. ⁴While it’s daytime, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming when no one can work. ⁵While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

⁶After he said this, he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and smeared the mud on the man’s eyes. ⁷Jesus said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (this word means sent). So the man went away and washed. When he returned, he could see.

²⁴Therefore, [The Jewish Leaders] called a second time for the man who had been born blind and said to him, “Give glory to God. We know this man[Jesus] is a sinner.”

²⁵The man answered, “I don’t know whether he’s a sinner. Here’s what I do know: I was blind, and now I see.”

²⁶They questioned him, “What did he do to you? How did he heal your eyes?”

²⁷He replied, “I already told you, and you didn’t listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciple too?”

²⁸They insulted him: “You are his disciple, but we are Moses’ disciples. 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but we don’t know where this man is from.”

³⁰The man answered, “This is incredible! You don’t know where he is from, yet he healed my eyes! ³¹We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners. God listens to anyone who is devout and does God’s will. ³²No one has ever heard of a healing of the eyes of someone born blind. ³³If this man wasn’t from God, he couldn’t do this.”

³⁴They responded, “You were born completely in sin! How is it that you dare to teach us?” Then they expelled him.

³⁵Jesus heard they had expelled the man born blind. Finding him, Jesus said, “Do you believe in the [Son of Man]?”

³⁶He answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.”

³⁷Jesus said, “You have seen him. In fact, he is the one speaking with you.”

³⁸The man said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped Jesus.

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of the light of the world who came into the world. For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of darkness that cannot understand the light. For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of the blind and lame and sick and dying being healed.

And for two thousand years we have continued to have people grow sick, for two thousand years we have had people go blind. For two thousand years we have lived with the symptoms of our slavery to sin. For two thousand years we have wondered why it still hurts so much if our salvation has already been accomplished.

For two thousand years we have had brutal wars that spanned across the world that Jesus came to save. For two thousand years we have had diseases that spread throughout nations. For two thousand years we have had towns cry out in terror when their children were victims of violence in the very places we build to teach and protect them. For two thousand years we have witnessed loved ones descend into their own personal darknesses of fear, weakness, and despair.

And after two thousand years of hearing one story and having another thrust in front of us, it is easy to forget, to lose interest, to get distracted, and to no longer wish to see.

For two thousand years we have walked with these two stories competing to shape our reality. I don’t think that one story is more real than the other, I think it’s terribly insensitive to tell someone who is grieving, or hurting, or in pain that their suffering is not real. Because it is real. Sometimes the darkness is blindingly real. In those moments we need someone to tell us a story that we cannot believe, because we’re still blind, even though we have eyes, and we’re still deaf, even though we have ears.

The story we cannot believe comes to us from the great cloud of witnesses who hold us up, from those who have a vision of what God is doing in the world, and describe it to us, enabling us to move forward in service to a God who faithfully holds us up even when all we see is our stumbling.

Heirs to two thousand years of church missteps and faithfulness, You, St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, are God’s witnesses. God’s servant, whom he chose, so that you would know and believe God, and understand that God is the one.

Grammar nerd that I am, I love that while “witnesses” is plural, “servant” is singular. How’s that for what it means to be the church. As we discern what our guiding vision for the next chapter of our life together should be, we have in this passage a description of us both as individuals and as a collective.

Each of us, individually, are God’s witnesses, because not only have we seen the work that our God has done, and is doing, we are called to testify on God’s behalf. This courtroom language is not accidental, because like the man born blind, our truth, our whole truth, is that we were blind, and now we can see. Because the light of the world came into the world, and God’s mighty works are displayed in us.

But together, the people who are St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church are God’s servant. As a body of witnesses, we are the body of Christ, not each going our own way, but coming together as a servant of our LORD, who’s mighty works are displayed throughout the history we have been given.

Verse 11 of our old testament lesson proclaims “I, I am the LORD, and there is no savior besides me.” This isn’t the word of a god who built a world and then let it spin on without intervention, the same voice that speaks into being things which do not exist, who told Pharaoh to let his people go, comes to earth as a human in Christ Jesus, bringing sight to a man born blind, not as a magic trick, but as a restoration from the darkness he had always known, into the light that he had no way to understand.

Because when you’re born blind, it’s not a return to sight, there’s no memory of what a face or a building looks like, you’re starting from scratch. Going from that kind of darkness to the light that Jesus provides him is an entirely new way of living that doesn’t play by the same rules as your old existence.

The man born blind has a stranger rub spit-mud into his eyes, then sends him to a pool to wash. When he comes out, his old world of darkness is gone, and now he doesn’t fit into his old niche, and there is not a comfortable new role for him to easily slide into.

Because he cannot deny what God has done for him, he is a witness to the one who not only restores sight, but creates it where it had never been before. The man himself testifies to that in verses 31 and 32: We know that God doesn't listen to sinners. God listens to anyone who is devout and does God's will. No one has ever heard of a healing of the eyes of someone born blind. This is what we think we know about God, that if you’re good, you’ll have your prayers answered, and if you’re bad, God won’t give you what you want.

That’s not a description of God, that’s a description of Santa Claus. And after two thousand years of hearing stories of healing the eyes of those born blind, I expect more of my God than a naughty and nice list. After two thousand years of having people want things that are destructive, I expect more of my God than to give me what I want. After two thousand years of having brokenness so apparent in our world I expect more of my God than to just fix my problems. After two thousand years, I expect my God to break forth as a beauteous heavenly light and to usher in the morning. After two thousand years I expect my God to shine in the darkness, because the darkness cannot overcome it.

You, you are the LORD, and there is no savior besides you. And though we were born completely in sin, we would dare to be taught by you, because you are the God who works wonders, even in such broken mediums as the witnesses you have appointed, even in such weak voices as the servant whom you chose.

Because when you’re born in sin, it’s not a return to righteousness, there’s no ability to act in a way that’s fully acceptable in God’s sight, even our best acts are still touched by our brokenness. Going from this kind of darkness to the light that Jesus provides is an entirely new way of living that doesn’t play by the same rules as our old existence.

God works through those who despair to show the depth of the hope we have in Jesus Christ. God works through those who are weak to show the vastness of God’s strength to hold us up. God works through those who are paralyzed by fear to show the heights of God’s faithfulness enacted on our behalf.

Though we are heirs to a broken world, and deserve the consequences of the world in which we live, we are wrapped in the righteousness of Christ, and made fellow heirs to a light that is beyond what we can imagine. That is the action we have witnessed, that we are rescued from our darkness before we even know what it means to be light.

The LORD speaks through Isaiah, From the dawn of time, I am the one. No one can escape my power. I act, and who can undo it?

From the coming of Christ’s light into the world, God is the one who announced, saved, and proclaimed, not some stranger. No one can escape from God’s power to bring light where there was only darkness, when God acts, no one can undo it. We must stand, then, as witnesses of God’s mighty acts, even when we do not know or understand.

The man born blind didn’t understand, no one had ever heard of a healing of the eyes of a man born blind. He didn’t even know what the man who had healed him looked like, it was only after he washed that he was able to see. He didn’t even know if the man who healed him was a sinner. 

But here’s what he did know, that he was blind, and now he saw. Beginning with that simple witness, he was able to affirm that if the man who healed him had not been from God, he couldn’t do this. He moves from the change he sees in himself to making a powerful claim about who his savior was: God, acting through this man who he did not know.

He believes his claim so fervently that he holds onto it even when the leaders of his community cast him out.

Jesus heard they had expelled the man born blind. Finding him, Jesus said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

Jesus hears what has happened to his blind witness, and he doesn’t abandon him, he goes and finds him. He finds him shaken, he finds him questioning his faith, he finds him as abandoned by his community as when he was still blind, he finds him afraid, and weak, and close to despair, and Jesus asks him to give his witness statement once more. Do you, my servant whom I chose, know and believe me and understand that the Son of Man is the one?

He answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.”

To the prophet Isaiah, the Lord said I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you. Because it hasn’t been just two thousand years, God has been active for ten thousand, and the light of the world shining brighter than the sun. From the foundation of the world God has saved and proclaimed and been intimately involved with his witnesses and servant, like a mother who will not forsake her nursing child God speaks comfort to my people Israel. Because even though we may not know Christ while he is doing the work of the Father who sent him, to the prophet Isaiah, the LORD says, I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you.

And to a man born blind, Jesus says, “You have seen him.”

To a man born blind, who can count on two hands the number of faces he has seen in his life, to a man born blind, who cannot go home and resume his lifestyle of begging because the Son of Man has changed the nature of his existence, to a man born blind who began with an observation and moved to an affirmation that his healer was from God, to a man born blind, Jesus says, “You have seen him. In fact, he is the one speaking with you.”

The man said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped Jesus.

We don’t know what happens to this man after this chapter ends. Perhaps he is restored to his place in the community, perhaps he learns a trade and remembers who’s action he has witnessed. We don’t know if he goes on to start a family, or if he sneaks into another story somewhere later in the bible. After two thousand years, We don’t know how this witness’s testimony changes his life.

We don’t know how God’s intervention in our lives will change the nature of our servanthood. We don’t know what mighty works God will choose to display in us as we act on our visioning process. We don’t know what programs will flourish, or decline, or even what programs we’ll have to say “no” to.

After two thousand years, here’s what we do know: though we were blind, we have eyes, and though we were deaf, we have ears. And we have seen the LORD.

Spanking God's Children

"God's justice gives people not what they deserve, but what they need." - Shirley Guthrie, Christian Doctrine

I used the above line in my sermon yesterday. After worship, during the handshaking period, a congregant came up to me and asked me a question:

"What if what we need and we deserve are the same thing?"

My answer: "Then that's what we get."

I used the Guthrie quotation in the context of receiving grace, rather than punishment for our sins. I think that's a large part of the good news of God. We deserve death, but in Jesus Christ, we are given life instead. That grace empowers us to encounter a world that is still tainted by its own limitations and sins. We can go boldly into the world and know that no matter what happens, God will not give up on us. Grace is a huge part of my theology, and I think it's one of the central traits of Christianity.

But I think from time to time we need a wake-up call.

Just as a loving parent will discipline their children, God's loving judgement is visited upon us. Sometimes, what we need is a taste of what we deserve. We receive that wake up call because we need it, and the fact that it's what we deserve is a coincidence, not a cause. In the same passage on which I preached, Jesus asserts that those who lift themselves up will be brought low. My interpretation of that statement is a warning that from time to time, when we forget that we need God, we will find ourselves faced with a harsh reminder.

I'm not sure of the source, but I have heard it said that the task of preaching is to "comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable." It is not my place to judge who is whom, but I think that both are necessary.

I wonder, Does the Church spoil God's children when it preaches only grace, and omits how badly we need it?

Silenced

Mark 9:2-9

2Six days later Jesus took Peter, James and John, and brought them to the top of a very high mountain where they were alone. He was transformed in front of them, 3and his clothes were amazingly bright, brighter than if they had been bleached white. 4Elijah and Moses appeared and were talking with Jesus. 5Peter reacted to all of this by saying to Jesus, “Rabbi, it’s good that we’re here. Let’s make three shrines - one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He said this because he didn’t know how to respond, for the three of them were terrified.

7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice spoke from the cloud, “This is my Son, whom I dearly love. Listen to him!” 8Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.

9As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them not to tell anyone what they had seen until after the Human One had risen from the dead.

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

What a familiar scene. We tell this story every year, pulled from one of the three gospels. Each time we see the same thing happening, Jesus goes up with either his elite disciples or his special needs disciples, depending on one’s interpretation. Every time These great historical figures appear with Jesus, every time Jesus is shown to be God’s son. Every time, every time, every time, Peter sticks his foot in his mouth.

I asked my dear friend John what he thought of this passage, and he gave me a playful grin and quoted Peter, “Rabbi, it’s good that we’re here.” What a totally silly thing for Peter to say, “Rabbi, it’s good that we’re here,” it’s almost as though he’s congratulating Jesus for having the foresight to bring some people up there to know what to do when Moses and Elijah show up to, as my generation would say, “Hang Out.”

Peter’s statement is a perfect blend of humility and arrogance. He’s been pulled aside for the opportunity to see Jesus doing something that reveals that he is God, and he knows he’s not worthy of standing alongside the great prophets and the Messiah on this mountain. That’s his humility. He is profoundly uncomfortable with seeing God as God.

With good reason, I mean, if one ever encounters God and is left comfortable, one has a rather small God. The God Peter, James, and John encounter is quite large, and the three of them are terrified.

Now, this is not to say that one cannot be comforted by God, that’s something different. Those who have encountered God in times of strife and indeed frequently comforted, but they are never left with a charge that the world is going alright, don’t worry about changing anything, we’ve arrived at our destination so don’t do anything, just get comfortable.

So Peter finds a way to ease his discomfort with encountering God in a classic way. Looking busy. Doesn’t really matter what, so long as it’s something of which God would approve. So we imagine Peter looking around so the big boss won’t find him just standing there, and he says, “Let’s make three shrines - one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But if you’re building a shrine, you’re near the moment, not in the moment. Peter can’t stand it, so he decides he’d rather be close to Jesus than with Jesus.

Clergy are guilty of this all the time, we find ways to distance ourselves from the very God we serve in the name of “organization”, or of “flow of worship,” and because we’re already looking to the next thing we have to lead in the bulletin, we miss what’s happening right in front of us.

One of the Pastors with whom I have worked closely over the years preached a brilliant sermon on listening for the still, small voice of God, and how important it is to sit in silence, reverently experiencing what God has for us without trying to fill time and space with our own contributions. The time came for the anthem, which was also about God’s voice speaking in the silence rather than our busyness, at the conclusion of which the music leader paused to allow the room to grow silent, and sit in that uncomfortable place. The Pastor, looking ahead to the next thing, started the Doxology on his own, keeping the service moving.

What a totally Peter thing to do. Got to do something because I just can’t handle what God is doing. So Peter opens his mouth, even though he doesn’t know what to say, and offers to do something, because he doesn’t know what to do.

We just saw something really amazing happen. We just saw our great historical heroes of faith standing alongside Jesus. We don’t know how to respond, but we think we have to so we start talking just to fill the space inside our own heads where we should be silenced by the awe of the situation.

We find all sorts of ways of distancing ourselves from what God is doing, even the way we approach the Bible, the unique and authoritative witness to the Word of God, can distance us from God if we approach it on a purely intellectual level. I can entertain a thought without being changed by it, I can read how it ought to be without feeling like I should make it that way. I can see Jesus in these pages without being crucified with him. We can together watch God do amazing things and wrap it up in a blanket of “context” and never have to be challenged by the parts with which I disagree. I can read a commentary or two and get answers to the problems I have with the text and don’t have to actually wrestle with what the Spirit is trying to do inside of me, inside of us, and I can stand before God with a stupid look on my face and say, “Rabbi it is good that we are here, Let us build three shrines - one for you, one for Elijah, and one for Moses.” So that I don’t have to just watch God be God, because a true encounter with God will change me and I am absolutely terrified of that change.

“Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice spoke from the cloud, “This is my Son, whom I dearly love. Listen to him!”

Don’t you know, Peter, what’s going on here? Don’t you know that you’re dealing with your Lord? Do you really want to run off and try to get a little work done? “This is my Son, whom I dearly love. Listen to him!”

Why are you talking when you could be listen to the very Son of God who has come here to save the whole world from itself? Why are you trying to build a shrine when you can watch the author of creation re-write your sinful reality into something that is whole again?

And Peter is silenced. He had not only seen that Jesus is indeed the Christ, but he has heard the LORD speaking to him and his terror is replaced with wonder.

Wednesday marks the beginning of the season of Lent. A season when we do not say Hallelujah, but sit in silence, remembering Jesus’s temptation in the wilderness. Confessing our sins and waiting for an Assurance of Pardon that for those forty days is withheld. The transfiguration we witness today is when we are silenced with awe for what God has done in our lives, transforming us when we’d rather change the subject. This transfiguration changes everything, and “Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.”

A huge part of the Gospel is God bridging what separates us from God, and this story is an example of exactly that. Peter finds a way to distance himself from God under the guise of serving Jesus, and God refuses to be kept at bay. God will not be kept at a safe distance, whether we would do that by building shrines on a mountaintop, by hiding from our calling, by anticipating what might come next, or by cloaking the gospel with facts and figures. God strips us whatever it is we would put in God’s way and leaves us, on a mountaintop, with Jesus.

I’ve already said that my tendency is to keep God at arms length by thinking abstractly about God, and when I tend to really encounter God, it’s an emotional moment, not a thoughtful one. I’m not willing to make the leap that thinking about God is a bad thing, but only loving God with my mind is only giving me a very small piece of what God wants to be for me.

So like Peter, I find myself silenced in the presence of God.

Because when God reveals Godself, there’s a reason that the first thing said is “Do not be afraid.” When we hear the word of the Lord, it consumes us and wipes away all of the pretense and shrine-building we can throw at it. It leaves us with only our Lord, once we get out of our own way and allow ourselves to be in that moment rather than veiling it, we can be with God, and be filled with a wholeness that we cannot imagine. Because in that moment, all of our fear is swept away, replaced with the assurance that we are standing in the presence of God’s Son, whom God dearly loves.

Peter is silent after being given that command, as are the other disciples. They stand in the presence of the transfigured Jesus for an unknown length of time, participating in what God is doing in their lives, not anticipating what the needs of those before them will be. “Rabbi, it’s good that we are here.” But not for the reasons we think, it’s good that we are here because you have chosen to share yourself with us.

God has chosen to share himself with us, and it’s an intimate moment that should be kept private, not out of shame, but because moments when God silences us should be cherished. I think this is why Christ tells the disciples to keep their experiences to themselves until after his resurrection. I don’t think it’s any kind of Messianic secret, I think it’s a recognition that something amazing has happened, but that the moment has passed, and we cannot relive it or recreate it in any way that does it justice. We can only wait for the next time that God reveals herself to us, and do our best to take part in what is happening around us.

For now we’re headed off the mountain, and we’re preparing to walk out into the Wilderness on Wednesday. There will be a time for Hosannas and Hallelujahs, and there will be a time when we no longer think that we need to protect ourselves from our awesome God. There will be a time when we see our Lord’s transfiguration and know that we can see him not because he is different but because we ourselves have been transformed. There will be a time when all of creation hears the voice from heaven affirming that Christ is the Lord. There will be a time when God will enter every trembling heart and set them free from our own brokenness. There will be a time when even the stones will shout. But for now, we have to leave behind the things that hold us back, because God is doing something truly amazing in each of us. A work of redemption and re-creation that will, like the disciples on top of the mountain, leave us with nothing to say.

And I am confident that we have faith enough in our risen Lord to be silenced...

Because we know that God’s voice is worth listening for.

Thanks be to God?

Matthew 5:1-11

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Amos 5:21-24

I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

This is the word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

Thanks be to God? Really? Were we reading the same passage? What’s all this “I hate, I despise” stuff? I thought we worshipped the God of love? Thanks be to God?I’m not sure I am grateful for this word. Give me more of that first one, where Jesus tells me I’m going to be happy later because I’m poor now...

At the seminary, we would read this passage and say that nobody is safe from this text. If you can see yourself in this text, it will convict you. For some reason though, I find myself drawn to it.

Maybe I’m tired of a culture who confuses God with Santa Claus, “Be a good boy or girl and you’ll get what you want.” Maybe I’m angry at the injustices in the world and it’s nice to see that God gets mad too. With all the lovey-peacey fluff floating around maybe I’m drawn to this passage because it’s about a God I haven’t heard as much about: a God of fire and wrath, the Lion of Judah, rather than the lamb. After all, this passage is talking about other people right? This one isn’t about me.

When I decided on this text, I thought it opened with “I hate, I loath your false worship.” That’s what I wanted it to say. I wanted to rail against the people who were just going through the motions and didn’t really mean what they were saying or doing. I even had a children’s sermon about how important it is to mean it when you say you’re sorry, or it doesn’t count.

But it doesn’t say that.

I wanted this text to look at the world and see all the same things I saw wrong with our culture. I wanted it to condemn the people who put our nation in a war with which I didn’t agree and sent other people’s brothers and sisters and daughters and sons to fight it for them. I wanted it to attack the people who’s emphasis of profit over safety dumped oil into our water. I want the prophet Amos to shake his fist at the people who created this economic crisis that threatens the jobs of an entire generation.

But it doesn’t do that.

I want to take this text and reword it so that it agrees with me, and then I get to have that Wrath of God in my hand, to throw at anyone that I think unworthy. I want this text to be a locker-room pep-talk that gets me back in the game so I can score the winning point.

But I don’t get to do that.

I get to read this text and let it lay me bare the same way it would have laid the rulers of Israel bare. I don’t like it. But this text is not one of comfort to a suffering people, it’s one of Judgement on a people who think they are immune from suffering because they do everything right. And I don’t like it. I don’t want our heavenly Father to be angry with me. I want to do something to fix it, find a way to soften that anger, or at least blame someone else so God won’t be angry with me. I don’t want to have a place in this text. But this text has a place for me whether I like it or not. Right next to everyone else who has tried to put their words in God’s mouth over the centuries. The text grabs us when we think we can bribe God into doing what we want and says: “But even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them... I will not listen to the melody of your harps.”

Let me stop there, and we can reassure ourselves that God still loves us, even when God is angry with us. That’s one thing that never changes. But we can’t just look for a happy-fun god in the Bible, because we spend a lot of time deserving God’s anger. We can’t duck out of this mess we’ve made with a few well placed sacrifices, or a few perfectly orchestrated songs. We can’t buy God off with a one time deal, or a limited time offer. We can’t have a party in God’s honor and expect God to be pleased enough to forget all the times we get it wrong. That’s not what God’s about. God created us, and God knows that we’re better than this mess we’ve made of the world. But we’re not going to earn it with offerings of material goods or with songs. We’re not going to win God over by giving back a portion of what God gives to us. God isn’t impressed by our wealth or cleverness or our own insight. The more time we spend trying to impress God, the more we hear “Take away from me the noise of your songs.” God wants to see us make a change in our world.

And So God says to Amos, “Let Justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.”

I remember when I was nine or ten, we had a huge series of thunderstorms, and a flash flood warning was issued for Morganton, where I grew up. We had these woods behind our house, and all the water from the storms flowed down to the bottom of the hill, and filled up what was a ditch in drier weather. I could hear the water dripping down onto the brim of my hat, filtering down from the tops of the pine trees to reach the bed of leaves that made up the forest floor. My father and I went exploring this brand new river, hiking deep into the woods seeing where it led, where it came from. The water was rushing in from all sides, all converging at the bottom of these two hills that formed the gully that was now a streambed. It pooled up in some places, several feet across, but only a few inches deep, and the leaves in those sections floated out to the edges, settling in a ring around the pools. In other places it was deep enough to fill up your rain boots if you made the mistake of stepping into it, and it was always moving, finding new places to fill as the rains continued to filter through the pine trees. The movement was strong enough that it pulled limbs and dead trees that were too big for a nine-year-old to move with it, collecting in narrower places to form its own dams, moving what seemed to me to be immovable, only to let it settle in a new place, changing the landscape of the woods. That memory, and the image of a storm-fed river changing everything about the landscape it touches is what comes to my mind when Amos writes “Let Justice roll down like waters.”

David LaMotte, a songwriter and peacemaker, recently gave a talk about the myth of the hero as a vehicle of change. “As a culture,” says LaMotte, “We tend to believe that what changes things is heroes, dramatic people doing dramatic things in dramatic moments.” But while heroes certainly exist, LaMotte says that big changes come out of movements, lots of regular people making small changes over time, rather than one larger than life person making one larger than life action in one larger than life moment. Those larger than life moments deserve a festival, like a fourth of July party, with fireworks commemorating a day when about 34 people signed a letter that started a nation. But this didn’t happen over night. Neither did a group of slaves taken out of Egypt become a nation just by crossing the red sea. It took 40 years of learning to live with one another in the wilderness, under a new set of laws to morph them into the people of God.. Likewise our nation didn’t just wake up one morning tired of being English, and we wouldn’t have a constitution, the document that sets us apart from other nations that came before, for another eleven years after we decided we were through with English rule.

Thousands of small changes. Thousands of tiny water droplets, filtering through the pines, creating the flood that changes the landscape. And once the rains stop, we’re still not done. because though Justice has rolled down like waters, we still have righteousness like an ever flowing stream. Always moving, always changing, like the Linville river, gradually cutting into the rocks to form a magnificent gorge, or to cut into the mountain itself to form the famous caverns. Thousands of years, thousands of water droplets, and an ever flowing stream providing life to the valley below.

Or like the Jordan river, which once dried up so the people of Israel could cross into the promised land, and eventually, thousands of drops of water later, baptized Jesus and began his earthly ministry. A ministry that proclaimed that this world would be turned upside down, and the poor would have a kingdom, and that mourners will be comforted, and that those whom the world has walked over would receive the world. An ever flowing stream, filled with living water, that would fill those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. It’s not a pool that we can go to when it’s convenient for us. A River that cuts through the landscape, changing everything around it, and the central point of life around it. It’s a continuous movement, not a singular moment. When we see the ever flowing stream, we know that God’s path is through the waters. It is not our place to skip across the stream like thrown stones, barely getting wet. If we want to bring change to this world, because we know we can be better than it is right now, we have to swim deeply.

If we buy into the myth that change comes from dramatic people doing dramatic things at dramatic moments, all we have to do is wait for the moment, and then be ready to act. Wait for the Day of the Lord, and then proclaim the good news. Wait for God to prove Godself, then decide to act. Wait for the two roads to diverge in the yellow wood, and then take the road less travelled. Wait for the Day of the Lord, and then take part in the establishment of the kingdom. But we’re not waiting for the day of the Lord anymore. The dramatic action has happened. Christ has been crucified, and Christ is risen. The day of the Lord has come. Now we live in the age of the Spirit, and it’s not dramatic Damascus road moments that change the world for the better. It’s not festivals or offerings or benefit concerts. It’s the mission of Paul, traveling throughout Europe telling the gospel even when nobody will listen. It’s the growing awareness that the poor aren’t different from us, so we help them not because it’s a tax deduction, but because it’s what needs to be done. It’s a movement, a movement of the Spirit within us and through us that makes us uncomfortable with what Amos has to say to us, and forces us to make the small changes, the thousands of water droplets, filtering through the pines, that effect real change in the world. Very few of us are tasked with making the decisive moments that move history forward. And even those who are called to those dramatic acts are charged with making all the small changes that lead up to the larger than life moment. But we’re not here to wait for the day of the Lord. We’re here to filter through the pines, and change the landscape around us, piece by piece. We’re called to work on behalf of the Kingdom of God in the age of the Spirit. Let’s get to work.

In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, Amen.