Walking at God's Speed

 

I have never been a big fan of walking. I could never see the point of walking. It was interminably slow. After rushing from one place to another in a car, walking held little attraction. I wanted to get where I was going in a hurry. 

            When Sharon and I were dating we would go for walks around her neighborhood. Sounds romantic, right? As we swapped stories and got to know each other better, Sharon would intermittently look up and remark, “Oh, that house needs new shingles.” I would look and wonder how she could tell. As an insurance adjustor, she could tell. I have since learned to identify bad shingles. 

            Sharon loves going for walks. When she suggested we go for a walk, I would typically groan and reluctantly get up off the couch and follow her out the door. But our first neighborhood was anything but interesting. There were no trees for shade There was nothing to see. The only reason I walked was to be with her. I didn’t like walking. 

            So, it may seem odd that for my sabbatical this summer, Tim Ryan suggested I read the book “God Walk” by Mark Buchanan. Though the premise is simple, “Walking with God,” the practice of this idea has been revolutionary for me. I want to share this with you this morning. 

            From beginning to end, the Bible is full of “walking” metaphors. The Bible uses “walking” as a way of describing life with God. The prophets preached it; Jesus embodied it. Walking was the vehicle where discipleship took place. In other words, walking is a way of learning the pace of Jesus. Buchanan writes of it as learning to walk with the three-mile-an-hour God. 

 

1. God made us for Walking 

 

In the OT and in the ancient Jewish mind, how you live is how you walk. In Hebrew, the word halakh “to walk” or “to go” became a powerful way of describing one’s manner of life before God. Later, the related word halakha described the Jewish way of life shaped by God’s law. The very first instance of walking in the Bible was when Adam and Eve had sinned. Genesis 3:8 tells us that they “…heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day…” and they hid. It is an awesome thing to think of God as walking casually among humans. 

            Halakh soon became an important Jewish concept of “walking with God.” Twice it says in Genesis 5 that Enoch walked with God (22, 24), as if to say something much more significant than strolling with the Lord. He was a man who walked faithfully with God. 

            Even more formally, walking came to represent obedience to God’s commands. Moses told the Israelites “…to keep the commandments of the LORD your God by walking in his ways and by fearing him,” (Deut. 8:6). 

            Truly, we complicate faith in God by making it a religion. People get caught up in the details of religion and turn it in legalism. Micah addresses this temptation when he asks a really good question, “What does God want of us?” And the prophet Micah replied, “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (6:8). 

            Micah doesn’t reduce faith to believing the right things or accumulating credits through works. He gives us this beautiful picture, “Walk humbly with your God.”

            You see, I was in a hurry to get somewhere, to get from point A to point B quickly. I saw walking as transportation. God sees walking as transformation. 

            

2. Jesus walked with his Disciples 

 

By the time of Jesus, Halakh was entrenched in Jewish life as “the way of walking.” When a Jewish rabbi interpreted the law, he was giving halakh – specific rules on how to walk. 

            We see Jesus walking by the sea and calling men to come and follow him. He continued to walk. And as he walked, Jesus taught these men his “way of walking.” The little group always seemed to be moving from village to village. I think that if you would trace the path of this journey, it would make no sense as to where they were going. Draw a line on a map and you would see Jesus and his followers walking in circles. That didn’t matter. It was not the destination but the journey that was important. It was the conversation. 

Yet Jesus clearly taught that Jerusalem was the final destination. Here’s the kicker: The journey from Capernaum to Jerusalem could be made on foot in a matter of days. Jesus, however spent three years walking toward Jerusalem.  

Walking and talking was a key part of discipleship. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life,” (John 8:12). Jesus continues the OT language of walking, In the Greek, the word is peripateo. So, Jesus invites his followers to travel down the same road with him and learn his pattern for life. That’s the invitation. And the response is peripateo, “to walk,” or imitate that way of walking. 

Jesus didn’t set up a classroom and teach theory. He took his disciples on the road and showed the light of life. When they passed a field of wheat, Jesus waved at it and said, “I know a story. A man was sowing seed…” When they were arguing about who the best disciple was, Jesus taught them about greatness by setting a child in their midst. The world was his classroom. 

Follow me. Come with me. Walk with me. Watch what I do. Following Jesus was not a lesson plan, it was life lived together. Jesus wasn’t trying to get to Jerusalem in a hurry; he was transforming these disciples into disciple-makers.

3. Walking creates space for Discipleship

 

Jesus showed his followers the way to walk in a dark world. The Way. Not an idea. Not the ideal. Not even doctrine. Not philosophy. Not moral training. The Way! How do you follow an idea? You can argue about it. How do you follow a philosophy? You study it. But Jesus doesn’t give us an idea or a philosophy. He gives us a way to walk. 

Mark Buchanan convinced me in his book that walking, literally walking, awakens one’s life with Christ. Walking revives body, mind, and soul in profound ways. 

While I was on sabbatical, sitting on the couch and reading this book, I thought, “I need to do this.” I got up, went outside, and walked. Three benefits emerged as I walked. I found…

Walking restores my body. I’ve noticed my pants getting tight. I know I lacked a regimen for exercise because I am always in a hurry. When would I exercise? I need to be places. The truck gets me there fast. But my body was suffering and I was forming unhealthy habits. I’ve started walking to work, walking to coffee places, everywhere in town. 

Walking clears my mind. On sabbatical, I sat and read or sat at my computer. But when I decided to walk that day, it blew my mind – literally. After walking around that new path in town, I realized my mind was clearer, my thoughts were more positive, and my attitude was brighter as I started the day. It was so simple, how could I have missed this? My mind needed this. I needed to go from 60 mph to 3 mph. 

Walking opens me to the quiet presence of Jesus. This one was the most surprising. I imagined I would walk and pray. Nope, didn’t happen. I didn’t feel like praying on the walk. I couldn’t force myself to do it. But while I walked, I found Jesus was quietly present. He didn’t reveal anything to me. He was just there. He whispered in tones that I did not hear until long after the walk was over. At three-miles-an-hour, I realized how small and dependent I was on his presence. At 3 mph, I am vulnerable and open to my need for him.

 

4. Jesus meets us on the Road

 

When we walk, Jesus is quietly present. Consider the encounter on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). Cleopas and his companion are walking to Emmaus from Jerusalem, a distance of 7 miles. A stranger comes up beside them and overhears their conversation about the crucifixion of Jesus and the discovery of the empty tomb. 

            The stranger asks what they are talking about and they are surprised he doesn’t know. He seems clueless about the events that shattered these two people’s world and have gripped and shocked a nation. 

That 7-mile journey becomes a two-hour conversation. 

            You know, these disciples are walking away from Jerusalem. They think the “Jesus story” is over. They are disappointed – grieving. Bewildered over the empty tomb. 

            Jesus comes alongside them. He doesn’t say, “Hey guys, it’s me!” He doesn’t reveal himself in a blaze of glory. He walks with them. He asks what they are grieving over. Jesus listens to their questions. Then he starts to explain from the OT what the prophets said about Messiah. He walks and talks. He teaches Cleopas and friend about how all roads, all Scripture, lead to the same place: the Messiah will suffer before he enters his glory.

            What’s interesting is they don’t recognize him. When I was walking the Rosenort Trail, I didn’t recognize Jesus either. Not until later. In both instances, theirs and mine, however, he was right there. 

            After Jesus reveals his hands in the breaking of bread, he disappears. And then Cleopas and his companion say to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” (32). 

            Did you notice where their hearts burned? Not the destination. On the road. While walking.

So, I am walking now. And I am enjoying the journey as never before. 

            Buchanan wrote, “…walking is the way we keep pace with the three-mile-an-hour God. It is God speed. We walk with a God who seems in no particular hurry and who, it seems, enjoys the going there as much as the getting there. A God who is slow.” (8)

            Buchanan also wrote how the two disciples at Emmaus discovered Jesus even as they were lamenting his absence. That was my experience on the Rosenort Trail. I wondered where Jesus was even while he was present with me. Jesus keeps showing up in those moments, showing us himself, showing us his world, walking beside us. My heart burns even as I think of this reality. Even when we don’t recognize him on the walk, he is okay with that. That comes later. It takes some walking to get to the place where we recognize him. 

            This is not about pilgrimages to some sacred shrine, like the Camino de Santiago in Spain. I am not saying we should plan a “Jesus March.” It’s not an exercise plan like Tai Chi Walking. I invite you simply to walk. It’s not magic. It just creates the space. Jesus does the transforming.

            I found it takes five minutes to walk to church from my house. It takes ten minutes to get to Lilystone and seven to go to Jake’s. But most of all, I have discovered that slowing down to God speed is an opportunity to learn to walk with Jesus. 

            I invite you to walk. It may sound overly simple, but I think we are missing something in this fast-paced car-crazy culture…that in the Garden, God walked. And Jesus wants to walk with you.

 

                                                                        AMEN

 

The "Prodigal" Father (Luke 15:11-24)

What makes a great father? How do we as men answer that without feeling a little anxious? 

            The traditional answers involve talking about a father who provides for his family. One who works hard. One who teaches his child to ride a bike or throw a football. One who demonstrates what is right and what is wrong by living out good principles.             

            Many of us would like to include the role of spiritual leader in the home. Someone who walks like Jesus, shares their faith, and prays with and for his children. 

            I don’t know about you, but this standard is pretty high for me. I feel like I need a “do over” when it comes to being a dad. There are definitely things I could have done better with my children. 

            Here’s a more difficult question: How does a father show his love for his children when those children make bad decisions? 

            I see a lot of good dads among our young men. Many of you are seen holding your toddlers on Sunday morning. You are involved in the care and protection of your young ones. Guys, you are doing great and you look like model dads. It’s easy to look like a successful dad when your children are obedient, respectful, and going to Sunday school willingly.

            But what happens when they grow up and reject your values? What happens when they ignore your advice? What do you do when they grow up and walk away from everything you taught them to believe? How do you respond when they walk away from faith in Jesus? 

            Today we want to explore a different angle of what some have called “the Greatest Story Ever Told,” the Parable of the Lost Son. But we want to focus on the father in the parable. Jesus spends a lot of time describing the father’s response to his wayward son and in so doing shows us a picture of how a father loves his children.

1. A Loving Father Does Not Nurse the Pain 

 

The Parable of the Prodigal Son or the Lost Son is well known. You have heard it dozens of times. Have you considered the father’s perspective in this story? 

            The man in the parable has two sons. One could be labeled “rebellious” and the other “resentful.” The younger son has apparently had enough of living under his father’s house and wants out. He wants to be free. So, he says to his father, “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me,” (12). 

            Now, given that there are only two sons, a third of the estate would go to the younger son. Jesus’ listeners would nevertheless have been shocked. A son does not ask for his inheritance while the father is still living. In a culture of honor-shame in the ANE, what the son does here is shameful. There are several ways that this pain is manifested for the father.

            First, there is the pain of personal rejection. With the son asking for his inheritance, he is basically saying to his dad, “I wish you were dead.” 

            Second, there is the pain of a rejected heritage. Inheritance in the ANE is usually land that has been in the family for generations. But the son pressures the father to sell his share of the land for cash. 

With the rejection of heritage, the father also feels the pain of rejected values. We see this in the reckless manner in which the son goes off to a distant land of foreign gods and customs and spends his money.  

            Finally, the father feels the pain of humiliation because the son’s rejection does not happen in secret. Everyone knows the son made the father sell property. And while the son is partying, the father bears the shame as the community questions his parenting skills. 

            Why did Jesus tell this story of the rebel son? Well, the Pharisees were grumbling about how Jesus mingled with tax collectors and sinners (15:1-2). In other words, they expected Jesus to show a little tough love on the rebels and renegades. But Jesus wanted to show them the kind of love the Father has for people no matter the pain they caused him. In fact, if the Lost Son represents the rebels and renegades, the older son who stays home and grudgingly obeys represents the judgy Pharisees. And the father in the parable loves both the rebel and the resentful son. 

            What we see in this long-suffering father is a willingness to suffer the pain of both sons. He does not rehearse the pain caused by either son but pours out his love on both. We all know the temptation to relive the wounds our children inflict on us. We could replay the hurt. We revisit the disappointment. The pain begins to identify us, to shape our attitude if we let it. This father refuses to let pain identify him. 

 

2. A Loving Father is a Merciful Father 

 

After a time of reckless living, the son is broke and starving. This wakes him up to the reality of his homelife. He comes up with a plan. He will go home to his father and say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants,” (18-19). 

            I think it is important to recognize that this is not a full repentance. The son is desperate and hungry. Evangelical tradition has always emphasized how the son “came back.” But we diminish the full power of grace shown to the son if we even hint at his action of returning as assisting grace. After all, he thinks to himself he can pay off his debts by working.

            It is here that we want to note the father’s response:

            First, his father “saw him.” Imagine the father standing on the rooftop of his house every day looking down the road to see if his son is coming. Every. Day. It is as if he knows his son will soon exhaust his lifestyle. He also has an inner conviction that his son will return. So, he waits.

            It may be a critical move that he sees his son before the community does. They will not show mercy to the boy. In ancient Israel there is a ceremony for cutting off rebels called kezazah. When a boy shames his family, the community holds a kezazah. If the boy returns without the money he took from his father, the community may kill him. So, the father watches.

            When the father saw him, he “felt compassion.” Not wrath or malice. Not a compulsion to throttle his neck. No “I told you so” lectures. But mercy and tenderness. He sees his boy in rags, his bloodied feet, his dirty appearance, and feels nothing but deep care for his son. He could have said, “I could care less,” but instead says, “I couldn’t care more.” Even the stench of the pigpen does not deter the father.

            Breaking all conventions for a proper gentleman, the father “ran.” When you reach a certain age and station as a man of means, you never run. It is undignified. This father doesn’t care. He runs. He picks up his robes and humiliates himself before the community and runs! Perhaps he is deflecting the crowd’s attention off of his son and onto himself. More likely, love compels him to rush to greet his lost boy. 

            And finally, chest heaving for lack of oxygen after running 50 feet, the father “embraced and kissed him.” The son hasn’t said anything yet; he barely has a chance. His speech is smothered by the father’s love, he is so overjoyed to see his son, to have him back. Can you imagine just delighting in your children simply because they came home? Even when they have not asked for forgiveness? Can you imagine gushing over your child knowing they still think your values are out of date? This is overwhelming grace.

 

3. A Loving Father is a Prodigal Father

 

The term “prodigal” is often applied to the “Lost Son” in Jesus’ parable. It fits considering the lifestyle he chose. But “prodigal” does not mean “rebellious” as such; it means “to spend money freely or extravagantly.” It can even infer recklessness. 

            The “lost son” was prodigal in his spending on luxuries and pleasures. But we could also say that the father was prodigal in a lavish outpouring of love on this son. What makes this love outstanding is that the father never lets the son give his speech. The son barely squeaks out his intro while being enveloped in the father’s embracing arms. You can imagine the son being squeezed while speaking, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, I am no longer worthy to be called your son…” (21). The father pays little attention to the prepared speech because he is already thinking “restoration” for his son. Love like this ignites true repentance in the son.

            If the father truly is prodigal in his display of love, we see it in his prodigious response to his son’s condition. Some have gleaned meaning in each expression:

The kiss expressed the father’s forgiveness. Regardless of the stench and filth, the father kisses his son.

He places a robe on his son’s back. This visible symbol demonstrates how the son is restored to the whole community. “He is my son again,” the father declares. He wears dad’s colors.

“Put a ring on his hand,” the father commands. Authority is given to the son in this ring, like a key to the city.

And shoes for his feet? Slaves go barefoot, but a freeman wears shoes. 

Finally, the father throws a feast. If you notice in the preceding parables – when the lost sheep is found or when the lost coin is discovered – there is celebration, there is rejoicing. Here too the father wants the whole community to celebrate the “resurrection” of this dead son lost to the world and found again. Through love, the father gives the son his life back.

            And what of the other son? He hears the partying and music and says, “What the heck? I worked hard for dad. I lived by the rules. And what do I get? Nothing.” He is resentful and bitter. To him it is not fair that his wayward brother should be so celebrated. And so, the father has another fire to put out in the home. In this picture, Jesus is inviting the religious to celebrate restoration of the sinner.  

            Notice that the father in Jesus’ story is a perfect picture of God’s love, and still, one son rebels and the other resents him. Good parenting does not guarantee faithful children. And to be honest, our job as parents is not to control our children’s choices but to be faithful in loving them like Jesus does – lavishly.

 

The trio of parables Jesus told were a response to the criticism of Jesus that he hung out with sinners and ate with them. Who then, was the shepherd looking for a lost sheep? Who was the woman looking for her coin? And who was the father looking down the road for his son to come home? Jesus, of course. He is the One who loves for loves’ sake. He is the inspiration for loving those who are lost, even our children. 

            The father in Jesus’ parable is a picture of God’s own love. He is patient. He is merciful. He is generous. He is faithful. He is what we want in a father. And yet, one son leaves home and lives a wild life. The other stays home and grows bitter. Consider this: Even perfect fathering does not produce perfect children. 

            Sometimes we parents carry a burden that God never intended. We feel deeply the choices our children make and we immediately blame ourselves for not teaching them better. If only we were more strict, prayed more, been a better example, etc. Perhaps. But if this story teaches us anything, it reminds us that parents are responsible for one thing: to be faithful in loving our children.

The late Joe Bayly was a gentle, godly Christian leader. He once told how one of his sons rebelled back in the days of the hippie movement, back in the 60s or 70s. He grew his hair long and moved into a communal flophouse. Late one night, Bayly received a call informing him that his son was being held at one of the Chicago police stations. He got out of bed, got dressed and went down to the station, but they had no record of his son being there. He made the rounds to several police stations before he realized that the call had been a prank.

Even though it was about 2 a.m., before he went home Bayly went to the flophouse where his son was living. He went in (the door was always unlocked), stepped over several sleeping bodies strewn on the floor, and found his son asleep on his bed. He gently bent over and kissed his son on the cheek before he went home to bed.

When Bayly told the story, he said that his son was now a pastor. Years later, the young man told his father, “Dad,do you know what turned me around?” Bayly said, “No, son.” His son said, “It was that night you came into my room and kissed me. You thought that I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I thought, ‘If my dad loves me that much, I had better get my life right with God.’”

            As a dad, I wish I could back and do some things differently. But our hope is not found in becoming perfect fathers. Our hope is that we can point our children to the perfect Father in heaven. And sometimes the most Christlike thing a father can do is not have the right answers, but simply to keep loving.

 

                                                            AMEN

            

 

A Permanent Place at the Table (2 Samuel 9)

Have you ever been told, “This is not your table.” It’s an awkward and humiliating experience. You saw a table at a banquet, and you sat down. Then someone with “authority” came and said to you, “These seats are reserved for the VIPs.” 

            It happened to me one time at a Winnipeg Pastor’s meeting. I had mistakenly sat at the table for the plenary speakers. Since I was there for business, I naturally sat with my boss. But I was quickly downgraded to sit at a less prestigious table. It doesn’t feel nice at all. 

            As we come to the communion table this morning, we may feel out-of-place. Are you asking yourself, “Do I belong at the King’s table?” You feel unworthy. You have struggled with your temptations and failed. You have battled your sins and lost. Perhaps you even fear that someone may come and tell you, “You’re at the wrong table.” 

            Communion, the sharing of bread and juice in memory of the cross of Christ, is not a reward for the strong but an invitation for the undeserving. 

            To illustrate this, I want to share an unusual story with you from the OT. I believe you will see the parallels quickly as we reflect on the story of Mephibosheth at the King’s table in 2 Samuel 9. The overarching question for all of us is, “Who belongs at the King’s Table?” 

 

1. The King Searches for the Forgotten (1-5)

 

David has established his kingdom at this point in the story. His enemies are defeated; he is crowned king over all Israel; and he has brought the ark of the LORD home to Jerusalem. This is the high point of David’s reign as king of Israel.

            At this time, David remembers a promise he made long ago. He asked, “Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” After some searching, David’s people find one: Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan. But there are some irregularities concerning the search and discovery of this sole surviving member of Saul’s house…

            The fact that he IS Saul’s grandson and heir to the kingdom of Israel. In many ancient kingdoms it was common practice to eliminate potential threats to the throne. Saul’s house is out and David’s house is in. Therefore, Mephibosheth is in hiding. He’s not wanting to be found. He thinks his life is in danger. Imagine the day David’s messengers arrived. There is a knock at the door. The king’s men stand outside. “The king wants to see you.” Is this an invitation or a death sentence? 

            Then there’s his name. Mephibosheth means “scatters shame.” Not exactly a name of honor. It may have even been derived from the pagan god, Baal. 

            Those who searched for Mephibosheth found him living in a place called Lo Debar. Again, names have meaning. Or in this case, they have no meaning. Lo Debar means “no pasture” or “no word.” So basically, he was living in what we would call “nowheresville.” 

            Do you notice the downward trend of these details? Add one more: Mephibosheth was living with a man named Machir, the son of Ammiel. This means that he was at the mercy of another; Mephibosheth could not earn his own living; he was destitute; he was on welfare.

            Add it all up and you see that he was nobody from nowhere. At the end of this narrative (13), the reader discovers that Mephibosheth is lame in both his feet. A small detail, but an important one. Back in 2 Sam. 4:4, after Saul and Jonathan are killed in battle, a regime change is feared and the nurse looking after Saul’s five-year-old heir panics and she drops the boy on his feet, crippling him. His name is Mephibosheth.

            He is nobody from nowhere important, the grandson of a rejected king, the son of a dead father, physically disabled, politically dangerous, and largely forgotten. Yet the king is looking for him; he wants to bless him. 

            This reminds of me Paul’s words, “…while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son…” (Rom. 5:10). Jesus came searching for us while we were in the same condition as Mephibosheth. I was not worthy of the king’s attention, but he came looking for me.

            This is the heart of our communion celebration. We celebrate like Mephibosheth not just being spared but being seated at the table. 

 

2. The King Shows Kindness to the Underserving (6-7)

 

But why? Why would a king search for a forgotten enemy hiding in Lo Debar? 

David’s motivation for finding Mephibosheth was not any merit or special skills the young man might add to the king’s court. No, his motivation was something called “chesed.”

            It’s hard to translate to English. It shows up in our text three times as “kindness.” However, “chesed” shows up as “loving kindness” or “grace” in the OT. It is often used of God as we read in Isaiah 54:10 “For the mountains may depart, and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love (chesed) shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,’ says the LORD who has compassion on you.” What is David wanting to demonstrate to Mephibosheth? There are three dimensions of “chesed.” 

            First, it is “love in action.” It is not just a feeling or some compulsion; it requires a deed. It is love that acts and meets a need. This is so clearly expressed in the cross of Christ.

            Second, it has to do with covenant loyalty. It has nothing to do with Mephibosheth’s circumstances or failings. David made a covenant with his good friend Jonathan in 1 Samuel 20:14-17. Out of love and loyalty to Jonathan, David seeks to bless Mephibosheth. The same is true of our salvation. God does not seek us out because we are lovely or good. He seeks us out because of the eternal covenant made through Jesus Christ. He is the emblem of that promise.

            And third, “chesed” goes beyond the expected. As we see in the text, David does more than is required or deserved. One scholar described it as, “When the person from whom I have a right to expect nothing gives me everything.” 

            I believe this is the kindness Paul had in mind when he wrote to his protégé Titus, “But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, who he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior…” (Titus 3:4-6). 

            A Sunday School teacher asked her class if they knew the difference between kindness and lovingkindness. One little girl said she did. She said that kindness is when your ask your mom for some toast and she gives it to you. Lovingkindness is when you ask your mom for some toast and she gives it to you with butter and jelly on it. 

            David reflected the loving kindness of God by going beyond expectations. 

 

3. The King goes Beyond what is Expected (6-12)

 

David sparing Mephibosheth’s life was a great mercy in itself. That would have been enough. No one expected more of David. But David goes further than expected.

            David does three things for the young man. First, he says, “Do not fear.” He removes all fear from Mephibosheth’s racing mind as he thinks, “What is he going to do to me?” There’s nothing to fear. 

            Then, David gives Mephibosheth all of his family’s land. He even makes sure there are servants to tend the land and provide for him. In an instant, Mephibosheth’s inheritance was restored. 

            But this third action is repeated for emphasis throughout the narrative. Four times we read that David granted him to sit at the King’s table “always.” Three of them are direct, “always…always...always” (7, 10, 13) and the fourth says it like this, “So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table, like one of the king’s sons,” (11). He was essentially adopted into David’s family with the full rights to “always” sit at the king’s table. No one, I mean, no one, was going to come to Mephibosheth and say, “I think you’re at the wrong table.” Honor and respect were given to one who felt like a “dead dog” before the king. No, Mephibosheth, you are not a dead dog, you are a son of the king now. And you and I have a seat at the table always, just like he did. 

            Paul tells us, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God,” (Rom. 8:15-16).

            Beyond survival, the gospel is about giving us a place of belonging at the table of the King.

 

So, as we come to the table today, we come to a token of the future banquet. We will sit at the king’s table in eternity. For now, we come to the table just as we are. We come from nowhere with no name and crippled by our sin. But sitting at the table, the tablecloth covers our broken feet as if to cover all our shame. 

            The Lord’s table reminds us that God has done more than forgive us our sins. He has welcomed us his sons and daughters and given us a place at his table “always.” 

            Mephibosheth came from Lo Debar expecting judgment and found a seat at the king’s table. We come today from our own places of failure, weakness, and need. And through Jesus, the King, God says, “There is a place for you here.” 

            If you feel unworthy, like a dead dog, then you are exactly the kind of person this table was prepared for. This table is for you. Don’t hold back. Come to the table.

 

                                                            AMEN

            

Restored: Hope, Healing, and the New Creation (Revelation 19:1-10)

Created and Called: God's Design for Life Together Series 

Proposal videos are quite popular on social media. Some of the men asking their women to marry them are quite creative in their execution. I have to say it puts my own proposal to Sharon in the vanilla category. But have you ever seen a video of the period between the engagement and the ceremony? Probably not.

            After the proposal, the waiting is interminably difficult. The couple wants to be together, but there are preparations to make for the wedding. Some engagements are long, a year-and-a-half; others are 4-6 months. I’ve known some brides to have a countdown on their calendars or phones and that just makes it worse. As someone once said, “The days are long and the years are short.” Waiting for the day when you can marry your beloved takes forever. But once you’re married, you wonder how the years have slipped away so quickly.

            The imagery of a wedding is very important to our series for God’s Design for Life Together. Our Bible begins with a wedding in Genesis and concludes with a wedding feast in Revelation. In between these bookends, God likens his relationship to his people as a marriage. Jesus carries this on having begun his ministry at the wedding in Cana and alluding to himself as the bridegroom. 

            If you have lived through the engagement period, you know that waiting is not easy. There is excitement but also longing. Anticipation, but also impatience. Often there is anxiety. That is where the church lives today.

            We live between promise and fulfillment. Christ has claimed us through the cross, but the wedding day is still to come. We still live in a world fractured by sin. We continue to wrestle with disappointment, suffering, temptation, and brokenness. 

            This is where Revelation 19:1-10 helps us. It gives us a reminder of the hope we long for. It reminds us that the waiting is not pointless. Revelation shows us three realities about life in the long engagement. 

            The bridegroom is coming. The wedding day is certain.

 

1. The Long Engagement: What Happens in Between (1-6)

 

Growing up in Winnipeg, my family lived 3 kilometers from the old football stadium. On a clear night when the Bombers scored a touchdown, you could hear the cannon boom and the crowd cheer. It gave me chills. 

            In Revelation 19, a great crowd in heaven gives a huge cheer. They “raise a hallelujah” four times in our passage. What happened? There was a great crash and a great cheer!

            Babylon has fallen. This was a great city in the OT, and a metaphor used by John in Revelation. Most scholars believe that John was referring to Rome and its imperial influence. But why not just call a spade a spade? Call it Rome…

            Scot McKnight answers, “…because John isn’t just talking about Rome, but he is connecting Rome and the empire to the ongoing story of God’s people. Babylon became for the Jews and early Christians the most graphic image, metaphor, or trope for a city filled with arrogance, sin, injustice, oppression of God’s people, and idolatry.” 

            Babylon represents every human system that teaches us to live without God. It seduces people with counterfeit loves and distorted values. Babylon tells us that truth is flexible, holiness is foolish, and human beings bear no sacred worth because they are not made in God’s image.

            But Babylon has fallen. The great multitude rejoices, the 24 elders rejoice, we rejoice. Why? Hear the crowd: “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgments are true and just; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality and has avenged on her the blood of his servants,” (1b-2). A brief interpretation of this text tells us that heaven and earth rejoice because the power of sin has been destroyed, the church has been delivered. Shame and regret have been removed; fear has been quashed. 

            Depending on your timeline, we may come at the meaning of this differently. But what I see here is a betrothal. In the first century, a Jewish wedding began with a betrothal. More than an engagement, it was a legally binding covenant, often lasting a year or more. The groom would pay a “bride price” and then leave to prepare a dwelling for his bride. During this time, the couple was considered married but did not live together. 

            Jesus has paid the “bride price” on the cross. As Paul said to the Corinthians “you were bought with a price,” (1 Co. 6:20). As such, we belong to the Bridegroom. In Luke 15, Jesus says there is joy in heaven when a sinner repents. When you were born again you were betrothed to Christ. You accepted his proposal. We are in the period of waiting now and must endure the final gasps of seductive whispers of the prostitute. But the bridegroom is coming…

 

2. Between Betrothal and Ceremony: Getting Ready for the Wedding (7-8)

 

In the old days, a couple who wanted to get married came to the minister and announced their intention. The very next Sunday morning, all the couples wanting to get married gathered before at the front before the sermon and made their promises. Simple huh? 

            The preparation time in our modern era is filled with much more detail. Pastors insist on counseling sessions. An apartment or small house must be rented or bought. A wedding dressing is picked out in “Say ‘yes’ to the dress” fashion. And a guest list must be decided upon. It takes time.

            Our groom has his work cut out for him. In John 14:2-3, Jesus says to the disciples, “…I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” This language is unmistakably betrothal and preparation terminology taken from the Jewish tradition of arranging a wedding. But what is the bride doing during this time?

            She’s getting her dress ready. “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready. It was granted to her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure…” There are three observations we need to make…

            The bride has “made herself ready” This is not passive. She is actively involved in preparing for the wedding day. We know the bride is the church and the church is actively getting ready for the wedding by pursuing holiness, by working out our salvation in obedience, by remaining faithful in a world that continues to court us, flirt with us, and lead us into idolatry which is adultery. But as we daily choose Jesus, we resist the seduction of Babylon.

            Then we read that, “…it was granted her to clothe herself.” There is something important going on here. While the bride makes herself ready (she participates), the ability to be clothed and the garment itself are a gift from God. We can’t afford the dress ourselves. God must provide it. The righteousness required for the wedding dress is not stitched together from our own efforts. Christ clothes his Bride with grace. 

            Finally, this dress is made of “fine linen, bright and pure.” This is the ideal and perfect wedding attire. “Bright and pure” speaks of purity, spiritual perfection. This fine linen is described as “the righteous deeds of the saints.” Our lives begin to reflect the beauty of the garment Christ has graciously given us. These deeds are righteous because they are performed through Christ, by the power of his Spirit. 

            When Sharon and I were in this in-between stage, I wanted to be a good groom and do my part in finding a venue. But I suggested things that were not helpful. I needed to stay in my lane. So, I planned the honeymoon. Christ and the church each have a role to play in wedding preparation.

3. The Wedding Feast: Am I Invited? (9-10)

 

When you hear of a good friend of yours getting married and that the guest list is short, you wonder, “Am I invited?” It’s disappointing to find out you won’t share in the day. There are reasons that go unexplained. It kind of hurts. The wedding day of the Lamb is one wedding you want to be invited to. What does that entail?

            The angel said to John, “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” It’s a joyful thing to get an invite, but the manner in which you attend is crucial. In Matthew 22 we read of the Parable of the Wedding Feast. A king prepares a wedding feast for his son. Many are invited, but some refuse, and others come dressed in ripped T-shirts and faded jean shorts. That might work in a destination wedding in Tahiti, but in this story, the king actually provided the wedding garment. Those who chose not to wear the gifted clothes are cast out. 

            What this parable reinforces is that one cannot come to God’s feast on one’s own terms or “goodness.” The wedding garment is provided by the king – his righteousness. This must be put on by faith in Christ. 

            When the churches John wrote to read these words about the Betrothal time, the period of waiting, they would have groaned at the thought of ongoing suffering, tribulation, imprisonment and death. But what the book of Revelation was meant to do was give them hope that their waiting will be worth it. They were invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb. They are blessed. Jesus is enough. He is enough in the face of inconvenience. He is enough in the face of cancer. He is enough in the face of a culture that pushes its agendas. He is enough when we are hard pressed to conform to the world. Yes, we are put through the ringer, as it were. But God intends to show his glory by putting his servants through this time of refinement and getting them ready for the Big Wedding. And we will rejoice because we know that none of these troubles can take Jesus away. Because Jesus is enough. 

            The Groom will return. In Jewish tradition, he often comes at night to steal his bride away and bring her to the place he has prepared. A wedding feast followed that could last for days. When Jesus comes, the feast will last for eternity. We will sit together with folks we did not know well and talk as if old friends. We will drink the wine of gladness, and we will be restored to the image of God in the New Creation.

 

The image of our restoration was beautifully shared and foreshadowed in another earthly wedding:

            Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who was paralyzed in a diving accident as a teenager, talks about her wedding day. She says, “I felt awkward as my girlfriends strained to shift my paralyzed body into a cumbersome wedding gown. No amount of corseting and binding my body gave me a perfect shape. The dress just didn’t fit well. Then, as I was wheeling into the church, I glanced down and noticed that I’d accidentally run over the hem of my dress, leaving a greasy tire mark. My paralyzed hands couldn’t hold the bouquet of daisies that lay off-centre on my lap. And my chair, though decorated for the wedding, was still a big, clunky gray machine with belts, gears, and ball bearings. I certainly didn’t feel like the picture-perfect bride in a bridal magazine. I inched my chair closer to the last pew to catch a glimpse of Ken in front. There he was, standing tall and stately in his formal attire. I saw him looking for me, craning his neck to look up the aisle. My face flushed, and I suddenly couldn’t wait to be with him. I had seen my beloved. The love in Ken’s face had washed away all my feelings of unworthiness. I was his pure and perfect bride. How easy it is for us to think that we’re utterly unlovely — especially to someone as lovely as Christ. But he loves us with the bright eyes of a Bridegroom’s love and cannot wait for the day we are united with him forever.”  

            In this moment of waiting, we feel unattractive and unworthy of our Beloved. We feel paralyzed and imperfect. Yet when our eyes are focused on Jesus, we forget ourselves and filled with love and belonging. Jesus takes us as we are and transforms us from our human brokenness and sin. We become the Bride of Christ You are the Bride of Christ, O Church. We wait with hope. The Bridegroom is coming. The feast is almost ready.

                        

AMEN

Sent: Being the Church in a Confusing World (Colossians 4:2-6)

Series: Created and Called: God's Design for Life Together #6

 

Do you remember the thick fog back in February? I was driving home from the college on a Monday afternoon when I ran into that wall of fog. Just outside of Steinbach, you could tell it was hazy, but not bad. People were driving slowly, and I thought “Come on, it’s just a bit patchy. Let’s go.” But outside of Mitchell the fog grew thick. I couldn’t see the usual landmarks. At one point, I didn’t know where I was. Had I reached the Kleefeld turnoff yet? How slow were the cars in front of me? And to top it off, the highway got a little slick. 

            What makes fog a little frightening is not just the fact that you cannot see. It is that you can no longer trust your sense of direction.

            Spiritually and morally, people today are living in a fog. Moral absolutes are not so absolute anymore. The truth we all believed is questioned. What is truth? What does it mean to be human? What is gender? Who am I? 

            Our world exists in a fog of confusion. And into that confusion, God has sent his church to provide direction. 

            We know the way. We know what is right because we have God’s Word. We know God’s design for humanity, for men and women, and for the body. We know why we are here. We know the truth. What we sometimes lack is the grace that carries the truth.

            Being right can come off as arrogant. We can easily be mad at the fog and condemn its confusion. It is very tempting to become frustrated with those who are stumbling around in the fog and the blind leading the blind. But God has not called us to scream at the fog. God has not called us to avoid those lost in the fog. He has called us to bear witness to Jesus Christ who came to us full of grace and truth. 

            In a short little passage in the letter to the Colossians (4:2-6), Paul advocates for an approach we should have towards people living in the fog. It calls for prayer. It calls for wisdom. And it shapes how we speak.

1. Praying for an Opportunity to be a Witness (4:2-4)

 

Paul is in prison when he writes this letter to the Colossian church. He has been in prison a few times. Under house arrest. Chained to guards. Paul was often “hard pressed” and in difficult situations. 

            He is writing to a church that has its difficulties too. They have had to contend with strange beliefs about angels in their church. The church existed amid rampant immorality and pressures to conform to the status quo of their society. They were cornered and boxed in by social pressures.

            Do you know what Paul tells them to do? Pray! But not for deliverance from this moral decay. Paul tells them to pray for an opportunity. He says, “Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving,” (2). 

            There are three parts to this prayer: persistence – watching the world around you – thankfulness to God that he is working in all realms. Paul’s telling the church, “You live in a spiritually dangerous culture that regularly shipwrecks souls.” There are philosophies and fads and logic that will sway you to think differently, even to interpret the Bible another way. Paul told the Ephesians to grow in maturity and discern these ideas through the lens of Jesus, “…so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes…” (Eph. 4:14).

            Then Paul asks that they pray for him: “At the same time, pray also for us that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ, on account of which I am in prison – that I may make it clear, which is how I ought to speak,” (3-4). Pray for “open doors.” Paul saw his imprisonment as an opportunity. Paul saw his chains as a link to the man standing over him. How can I clearly share Jesus with this man from a different race, culture, and philosophy? How can I get him to understand why I am here chained to him? Isn’t that an amazing way to look at it? 

            We can grieve the provincial school board agenda and its curriculum. Our hearts sink when we think that our province was the scene of a multimillion-dollar drug bust. The immorality and low social consciousness of our neighbors should make us weep. Or we can see these crises as an opportunity to share Jesus with others. 

            Amid these social challenges to our Christian faith, pray for an opportunity to share the gospel. Praying this prayer will do two things: One is that we join God in his work of redemption for our world by asking his will to be done. Two, as we pray, we become more aware of the open door the Spirit is making for us to bring Jesus into the conversation. God loves to be asked for these things. 

            If we want to make a difference in our world, prayer is essential. It is not wasted time. It is asking God to go before us and make a way to share his vision for life and help Jesus transform people.

 

2. Walking the Example of Truth and Grace (5)

 

One of the greatest areas of confusion today involves identity, gender, sexuality, and the rights of the body. We are being pressured to conform to the way the majority thinks and to abandon our biblical convictions regarding these issues. Doesn’t that make you mad? Doesn’t that make you want to fight? Don’t you want to raise your voice?

            Social media has shaped us to respond to opposing views with blunt rebukes. We tap out a few words and hit “send.” That’ll show ‘em. What I fear is that this online outrage is seeping into our face-to-face interactions. Our filters are broken and we say things we should regret. But don’t. Is this the manner that represents the gospel position?

            I think Paul’s response would be the same to us as it was to Colossae, “Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time,” (5). “Walk” is a favorite expression of Paul’s in speaking about how we live what we believe. It is the challenge to “walk the talk.” And in this way, we are to be wise in how we interact with people who don’t share our faith. What does that mean for us?

            A wise person to me is someone who is careful and not too quick to speak. As James said, “…be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger…” (1:19b). Such an attitude speaks to how we behave and how we act with those who are outside the church (and even those inside). Paul calls us to walk wisely toward outsiders. That means we cannot respond with mockery, arrogance, or hostility. Social media has trained us to score points instead of loving people. But ridicule rarely opens hearts to the gospel. If our tone communicates contempt, people stop hearing what we are saying about Jesus.  

            I have found that people are disarmed when I ask questions about their views and beliefs. I don’t have to agree or affirm their beliefs to affirm them as a person worth getting to know. To show interest in them builds a bridge for further conversation. Few people have ever been argued into believing in Jesus. And it will not be our words as much as the way we live that will attract people to our faith. We have to show them God’s love by loving them. 

            John tells us that Jesus came into the world full of grace and truth (1:17). Grace seems to precede truth, but the two are nevertheless connected and cannot be separated. 

 

3. Speaking the Truth without being a Jerk (6)

 

Paul’s final instructions to the church were not random. The tone of these five verses focuses on the outsider as we pray for opportunities to share Jesus, show them our faith, and now, how we speak to them.

            Paul says, “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person,” (6). Our conversations should be salty. We know that salt enhances the flavor of popcorn and makes us want more. “Salty speech” in Paul’s day referred to witty and clever conversation. The opposite of droning and lecture. How do we pique the interest of our hearer? How do we make our conversation salty so that they thirst for more? We want to talk about Jesus in a way that makes someone’s mouth water. 

            However, to many in our postmodern world, our beliefs translate to “bigotry” and “hatred.” Moral standards mean “judgmental intolerance.” Everyone agrees that bigotry and intolerance are wrong. But we have lost our shared perception of what qualifies as bigotry or intolerance. How do we share our truth without being a jerk in their eyes?

            Take the example of Jesus. After a long journey, Jesus meets a woman at a well in Samaria (John 4). He neither avoids the truth with her nor does he weaponize it and bash her over the head. He takes this morally confused and socially marginalized person and leads her with grace and clarity to discover truth. Jesus speaks the truth in love (Eph. 4:15). 

            How does he do this?

            Jesus does not avoid this woman (4-7). They are on opposite “sides” politically and morally. But Jesus doesn’t cross over to the other side of the street. He engages her. He doesn’t condemn her. We cannot be afraid of talking to people who have different lifestyles or values.

            Jesus begins with a request for help (7-9). “Give me a drink,” he says. This is bigger than we realize. He is asking an “unclean” woman to serve him. It gives her dignity to be able to help someone. It treats her as someone with value. 

            Jesus encourages conversation (10-15). He speaks to her as someone whose opinion matters. He doesn’t lecture her; he allows her to spar with him over values.  She is not a project for him, but someone to know and relate to.

            Jesus awakens spiritual thirst (10). He speaks about “living water” and uses this imagery to appeal to her deeper needs. He offers to lead her to a more satisfying truth to live by than the one sold to her by society and lifestyle. Jesus doesn’t just expose what’s wrong with her thinking (he does correct her), but he reveals also what she has been searching for. 

            Jesus speaks the truth clearly (16-18). I appreciate the courage with which he confronts her situation. “Go, call your husband…” he says. He doesn’t accuse her of adultery or promiscuity. But he doesn’t shame her either. As much as culture tries to be accepting and tolerant, there is an innate sense of “wrong” even when they try to be neutral. We don’t need to point it out – they know.

            Jesus redirects her toward true worship (20-24). She attempts a diversion by talking about places of worship, as if to change the subject of her sexual confusion. But what’s the real need? It’s about worship. And Jesus redirects her toward what really matters: Who do you worship? What gives you life and satisfaction? People are craving living water. They long to have their thirst quenched – a thirst for identity, a yearning for belonging and for intimacy, a desire for meaning and for peace. Often people are looking for the right things in the wrong places and coming up dry. Beneath so much confusion is often loneliness, disappointment, shame, and thirst.

            Then Jesus reveals himself to her as Savior (25-26). When trust and relationship have been established, Jesus shares the good news with her. If we treat people as projects, we devalue them and they can see through us. Building true relationship with people builds genuine currency to go deeper with them. 

            Jesus knew everything about her…and he stayed. He moved towards her with truth and grace. That’s our model.

 

Our world exists in a fog of confusion. Our church may not clear every fog bank that moves in or resolve cultural confusion in our midst. But we can shine faithfully. 

            We are a lighthouse. A lighthouse does not chase every ship through the storm. It does not scream at the waves. It does not slip into the chaos of the tumult. It simply stands where it has been placed, anchored to the rock, shining faithfully through the darkness.

            That’s the church’s calling in a confused world. We simply keep shining the grace and truth of Jesus.       

 

AMEN