Pentecost 7 - Amos 7:7-17

One benefit of living in Central Ohio is that we are blessed with one of the best zoos in country – if not the best.  The Columbus Zoo offers lots of great animal exhibits that are always plenty of fun to visit if you have the time  to go spend for a day at the zoo.  Whenever we go, we usually find that one day is never enough time to see all that there is to see. 

It’s always fun to see the animals; they are wild and exotic and they come from all sorts of remote places around the world.  But, what always makes the trips more fun and exciting is when the animals are up and active and moving around.  Often they are lazily sleeping the afternoon away.  But every once in a while the lions and tigers will be up prowling around, and putting on a show for the zoo patrons.  That always makes the trip that much more enjoyable.

It happened on one occasion that we were at the zoo visiting the gorilla exhibit.  The visit started off with observing a group of very sleepy and lazy looking gorillas.  But as we stood there watching, one of them, the largest one got up and began to move around his cage.  He climbed up to the top of the trees, he climbed down, he sauntered across from one side to the other and back again.  We were standing observing through a large glass pane and we suddenly saw him begin to run around the circumference of the enclosure.  Will was kneeling down directly in front of me at the glass as we were both taking the whole thing in.  And as the gorilla ran past at full speed, he reached out his hand and pounded the glass right in front us.  Needless to say, we were startled.  I nearly jumped out of my skin.  Both of us were grateful for the strength of the plexiglas that stood between us and the gorilla. 

That’s the way it is when you go to the zoo.  It is fun to see the animals.  It is especially fun when they are swimming or diving or flying or prowling or snarling or roaring – but always behind the glass, always inside the cage, always safely and securely locked away.  Because, as Will and I discovered, powerful and un-tamed animals can be frightening even behind the glass, let alone in front of it.  Imagine, how frightening would it be if the animals every got free?

Sad to say, it is entirely true that this exact “keep him close, but always behind bars” approach that people employ with gorillas and lions at the zoo is the exact same approach that people take with their God.  They want to keep him close.  They want him near by so they are able go to see him when they want, to spend time with him when it suits them.  But always in a cage.  Always behind bars.  Always under surveillance.  Because a God who is permitted to roam free, who acts according to his own nature and his will just isn’t safe.  We want a god, we even need a god, but it is a tame god we are after.  A God much like a gorilla behind a pane of plexi-glass. Fun to see.  Fun to watch him as he prowls around doing his God thing.  But always under our control, under our watchful eye, making sure he doesn’t do anything for which we do not approve.  Anything more just wouldn’t be safe.

There is that old adage, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  We want a god we can keep under supervision.  The Old Testament Israelites felt the same way.  They wanted to believe in the Lord, to practice their religion and keep their faith; but they wanted to do it in a way that suited them, that suited their needs and their lifestyle and their choice.

Jeroboam was King of the Northern Kingdom of Israel.  He wanted a god.  His people wanted a god.  But they wanted a tame god, a god who didn’t think too much for himself. A god who let them decide those complex and complicated issues of morality and justice.  Things that are too complex to leave in the hands of a black and white, over simplifying god.  Right and wrong is so contextual, after all.  Right and wrong can be defined and determined by so many different criterion.  You shouldn’t limit yourself to such a narrow understanding.  You shouldn’t paint with such broad brushes.  There are times after all when you need to fudge a little. To expand the boundaries of justice so you have the freedom to say and do the things that need to be done. 

And so he did.  Right and wrong were defined to allow for advantage to be taken of the widows and orphans, the poor and the destitute.  Servants were made from the less fortunate.  Purses and wallets were lined from with the excess gleaned from those lacking the power to speak for themselves.  And what about the Church?  Where was the voice of the church to speak up on behalf of the poor?  To speak against the injustice of the powerful?  They said nothing.  They did nothing.  Amaziah the priest in Bethel was little more than Jereboam’s yes man.  The colleges and seminaries to train the prophets were little more than propaganda houses for the status quo. 

So God sent Amos.  Amos was neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet.  This was not his profession or paid vocation.  He was a herdsman and a farmer.  But God called him and sent him to speak his Word faithfully, in all its truth and purity against the injustice of the day.  The God whose teeth you have tried to remove, who you have locked away in a cage – to keep him near by but always on your terms, the god who you have tried to tame, to make more palatable to your lifestyle and your choices is no tame lion.  He does not wear your muzzle.  He does not fit in your cage.  He cannot be contained by your bars.  He is not restrained by your chains.

In chapter 1:2 Amos declares:

“The LORD roars from Zion and utters his voice from Jerusalem; the pastures of the shepherds mourn, and the top of Carmel withers.” (Amos 1:2 ESV)  The Lord roars and Amos is his mouthpiece.  He can only be marginalized and pushed out and pushed away for so long.  He can only be ignored and kept on your terms for so long.  The Lord is God.  And like a lion roaring and prowling around in the streets, he is powerful.  And he must be heard.  To ignore him means your death.

The word that the Lord gives this morning in our text is a metaphor.  The Lord gives Amos a vision and Amos tells us what he sees – the Lord is holding a plumb line, measuring the wall, testing to see if it is true.

This is a plumb line – a weighted piece of string or twine.  A relatively simple device, but it always hangs straight up and down.  A stone mason constructing a wall could use this to check his work, to see how well he had done his work, could see if the stones have been placed straight up and down.  Crooked stones make for weak walls.  The metaphor follows like this: the Lord has tested the strength and quality of Israel and has found them to be less than true.  He has compared them to the plumb line of His Holy Word and they have not measured up.

And so says the LORD in our text.  “I will never again pass by them; the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate, and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste, and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword.” (Amos 7:8-9 ESV)

You see, this is the 3^rd vision that the Lord had given to Amos.  In the first two, the Lord promised to relent.  He expressed his anger at the sins of the people; but he was merciful.  He did not destroy the people for their sin even though they deserved to be destroyed.  He gave them another chance.  We take God’s mercy for weakness.  We take God’s mercy to mean that we are in control, that we have the right to determine right and wrong, truth and falsehood.  We take God’s mercy to mean that we call the shots and so foolishly we place all kinds of muzzles and restraints on the Lord as though we have the power to decide what he can and cannot say and what he can and cannot do.  We would like to believe that we are God.

Have you seen Jurassic Park?  A movie about a zoo for dinosaurs.  T-Rexes and Velociraptors in cages to be viewed for fun by zoo patrons.  One of the classic scenes takes place just after the T-Rex excapes.  He is pounding his way through the rain soaked park cause the earth to vibrate.  When we see him he lets out a tremendous roar.  If t-rexes cannot be caged and kept in a zoo, how much less can our God?  In his mercy, He puts up with our foolishness.  He permits us to dismiss him and ignore him and minimize and contextualize His Word and His Law.  But he is not a tame God.  He is not a trifling God.  He is powerful.  He is willful.  He is the one who decides right and wrong and truth and morality.  He has revealed that will and that power to us in His clear Word.  People say all the time that the Bible is so complicated and so complex; you can’t really know for sure what it means.  People say all the time that you have to just read it for yourself and decide what it means for you.  God’s Word is clear.  God’s Word reveals God’s will.  God’s Word reveals his clear teaching.  He is not obliged to confine himself to the cages we would make for him.  And so the Lord breaks free and like a lion, like a liberated T-Rex, He roars with a deep, deafening, earth shaking roar.

What do you think He would say, Dear Christian?  What words would come from this terrible and powerful and un-tamable Lion?  Where would he sink his teeth and flare his nostrils?  At you? 

He could.  After all, you have tried to tame him.  You have refused to hear him.  You have built your wall with your own blueprints and his plumbline would show your lack of craftsmanship.  He could roar at you.  But he won’t.  At least not yet.

For now, the Lion of Judah roars, but not at you. The Lion of Judah roars but at the Devil.  Because the devil is roaring at you.  Peter tells us that the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  He has no right to do that.  He has no power to do that.  He cannot destroy you.  He cannot harm you.  The Devil is a liar, a charlatan, much like the Great and Powerful Oz who pretends to roar and snarl and snap but in reality has no greater authority than you or I.  And so the Lord, the Lion of Judah comes to put that other, that false lion in his place.  To back him off and back him down.  Satan slinks away with his tail tucked between his legs.  And so does death.  Utterly defeated by the great and powerful Jesus.   

And what about Sin?  He takes it into himself.  He eats it up – bite by putrid and stinking bite.  He takes it all. He consumes it all so that it is forever gone, never to be seen again.  Jesus.  The Lion of Judah destroys our enemies and keeps them at bay.  Jesus, the lion of Judah, roars.

People are people; we have been ever since the beginning.  We want to minimize and marginalize the Lord so that we can make the rules and we expect the Lord to obey.  But the Lord is far from tame.  He is far from restrained by the parameters we might create for him.  He is great and he is powerful.  And He uses that power for you. 

Amen.

Pentecost 6 - Boast in Your Weakness

Dear friends in Christ,

The world is preparing for the Olympics.  Athletes will gather in a few weeks in the city of London to test their strength against one another.  They will compete in all sorts of events to see who is the strongest runner, the strongest swimmer, the strongest basketball or volleyball or soccer team.  And when they have decided through competition, they will crown the winner and we will all celebrate theirs strengths.  Because that is what we celebrate…  Strength. 

While that works fine in athletic competition, when it comes to our spiritual lives, strength is a liability.  We think it helps us.  We think it gives us a leg up.  We think it keeps us moving in the right direction.  We are wrong.  Our strength gets in the way.  Our strength messes things up.  People are proud of their strength, but when it comes to things spiritual, the mature and healthy Christian boasts with the Apostle Paul in their weakness. 

We really want to think of ourselves as strong, spiritually strong.  When we think of Christians we admire, we always evaluate them according to their strength.  We say things like, “Do you know so and so – he is a really strong Christian.” Or “What about her? She has a really strong faith.” Or maybe you think to yourself, in your own mind, “I have missed church a few times, but it’s okay. My faith is still strong?”

That is what we would like to think.  The question is, how do you know?  When you are trying to measure the strength of your faith, what criteria do you use? 

It often has to do with the way that we feel about ourselves.  “I feel like I am a Christian.  I feel like I have a strong faith.  Therefore I must have a strong faith.”  That is a dangerous way to evaluate your spiritual health.  How many people, after all, have claimed to have felt fine, with not even a symptom only to go to the doctor and discover they have some terminal sort of sickness or disease.  They felt fine when they were actually quite ill.  Feeling fine, feeling strong doesn’t mean you are strong.

A second way we measure is by how much good stuff we do.  Do we help people?  Do we follow all the rules?  Do we volunteer? Do we pray enough?  Read our Bibles enough?  Or maybe we haven’t and think we should, with the understanding, of course, that it will make us strong.  We measure our strength by the things we do.  This is good works theology.  This is legalism.  It doesn’t make us strong.  That’s what they Pharisees did, the way they acted.  They followed lots of rules and thought that by doing so they were undergirding their strength.

But what did Jesus say?  “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17 ESV) Jesus called them white washed tombs who looked good on the outside and were full of death and deceit on the inside.  (Matthew 23:27-28)

Hypocrites we call them.  They deserve what they have coming.  We can’t stand hypocrites.  People who say one thing but do another.  Isn’t that what you do? You strong Christian?  Don’t you overlook your sin, push it back, push it down to keep it out of sight and out of mind?  You have to.  There is no other choice.  Otherwise it will take away your strength.  It will make you weak.  It will destroy you.  And so you deal with your sin on your own – you deal with it by pretending it isn’t there.  You deal with your weakness by trying to compensate for it with a self manufactured yet will artificial strength. 

Hypocrites and pretenders – that is what we are!

But God has another way.  A better way.  And it starts with repentance.  It starts with taking an honest look at ourselves. An honest look into the mirror of God’s law.

In Psalm 53 David writes:

God looks down from heaven on the children of man to see if there are any who understand, who seek after God. They have all fallen away; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one. (Psalm 53:2-3 ESV)

God look in on us.  He sees not just our outward actions, not just the way we want to be seen by others, God measures us exactly as we are.  He measures our hearts, our motives, our innermost thoughts, and he sees that we are full of sin.  God sees behind the put on and pretend righteousness that we use to fool others and especially ourselves.  And God says that we are all in the same boat – no one who does good, no one who is righteous, not even one.  Strong Christians?  Not even close.  There’s no such thing. 

Paul knew that.  He knew the truth about himself.  He knew he was weak, he knew he was a sinner but he knew that his sin was washed clean by Jesus.  Paul knew that Jesus was strong for him.  Jesus was strong on his behalf to overcome his weakness.  Paul could look to Jesus, could lay his weakness at the feet of Jesus.  Could lay his fear at the feet of Jesus, could lay his doubt at the feet of Jesus, Could lay his sin at the feet of Jesus.  Paul could claim to be even the chief of sinners. Because Jesus was his strength. 

Sometimes, when patients are brought in to hospitals they are desperately in need of medical care and attention, but they don’t want to be helped.  They are so insistent that they are fine by themselves that they are a danger to themselves.  When the doctors and nurses care for them they resist so they need to be restrained.  Sometimes they even need to be sedated, given medications to put them into a sleep so they will submit to the treatments.  Friends you and I don’t need restraints, we don’t need sedation, we are so bad off that we need to die.  God takes one look at us and says, “It’s time to start over.”  And so he puts us to death, in baptism, where we are buried with Christ through baptism into death. And there he rebuilds us, from the inside out.  He pours us out.  He pours out our sin and self-centeredness, out natural narcissism, and he pours in Christ, through the Spirit and the Word to make us brand new. 

When this happened to Paul - God had given to the Apostle great revelations.  In our text Paul says that they Lord had taken him to heaven to give him great revelations – things too wonderful to be spoken.  This was God’s gift to Paul, a gift given for his encouragement and edification and for his understanding as he was to be a teacher and apostle to God’s people.  But Paul still had his sinful nature to contend with, a sinful nature that feels pride when it receives God’s gifts, that takes credit for the good gifts that God gives.  And so the Lord gave Paul a thorn in his flesh to remind him of his weakness. 

God does the same for us.  We have that same struggle – we take credit for God’s generosity.  We convince ourselves that we deserve the good things, the blessings we have received.  So God sends us little reminders of our weaknesses.  They don’t seem little, they don’t feel little, they can often feel like they are pretty big and imposing.  But they are God’s way of reminding us that we need him, that we don’t stand on our own strength, we don’t live by our own merit, we live by the grace of God.  We have that in truck loads. 

Luther talked about faith as an empty sack. Going to Jesus as a beggar, hoping only to receive.  Lord, I need what you have to offer.  I need the gifts you bring.  Fill me to the full so that I can be filled.

God fills us.  He gives us more than we could hope for.  He gives us exactly what we need.  We can look at ourselves in the mirror, even in God’s mirror of the law and see ourselves for who we truly are but still say with confidence that we are saved because of what Jesus has done for us.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen.

Pentecost 5 July 1 2012 - 2 Daughters

"My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live." Could those words be your words? Imagine yourself in Jairus' shoes. Daughter on the verge of death. Only hope for life is to lay her at the feet of Jesus, to have Jesus lay his hands of mercy and healing on her dying body. If only we were so desperate for Jesus. Jairus was desperate for Jesus. His little girl was sick. On her death bed. Breathing her final breaths. At any moment the end could come. Imagine the heartbreak as a parent watching your daughter suffer with an illness. Imagine the feelings of helplessness knowing that nothing you could do would change her predicament. You were watching her slip away from you moment by moment. Imagine the heartbreak. But then hope. Jesus was in town. He had gone across the lake earlier that day and was nowhere to be found, But someone ran in to the house with a report that His boat just landed and he was walking down by the shore. Leaves you with a predicament - what should you do? Do you leave the side of your dying daughter. Do you miss the chance to see her through to her last breath and comfort her as she passes, or do you risk going to find Jesus on the chance that Jesus might come, that Jesus might heal. The possibility of the positives outweighed the definitiveness of the negatives and so Jairus went, frantically in search of the Lord. If only we were so desperate for Jesus. Jairus was a good man. He did everything right. He always did. You didn't get to his place in the community by doing the wrong thing, by doing things the wrong way. Jairus was successful. He was well off. His contributions kept the synagogue running. We know men like that - serve on every board the church has to offer, sometimes twice. Sometimes two at a time. The first to show up on a Sunday morning, the last to leave. Helps the pastor, visits the sick, cares for the needy, active in the Lutheran Layman's League, visits with those who haven't been to church in a while to gently encourage them to return, adopted an orphan in Africa, even has plans to go on a mission trip. A real churchman. And as a man of faith, when his daughter got sick he did the right thing. He prayed. He went to the one who has the power and the ability to help. Jairus had faith. His faith was active and involved. He believed not just in word but also in deed. Someone for us to look up to. And Jairus was desperate for Jesus. If only we were so desperate. Jairus found Jesus, explained to him his need and Jesus came. Imagine the relief at finding Jesus. Imagine the frantic rush that must have ensued as Jairus would have hurried Jesus through the streets on his way home to the bedside of his daughter. But then Jesus stopped dead in his tracks. "Who touched me?" Jesus asked. Well, that's a dumb question, you think. Who didn't touch you? Everyone touched you. It's a crowded street. There are people pressing in all around you." The disciples say what you are thinking. But Jesus persists. He scans the crowd, while precious seconds tick by, looking for that phantom of a person who Jesus insists touched him. And then she emerges. Jairus barely even knew her name. But everyone knew who she was. Probably crazy. No one ever saw her at church. People said she had some sort of a disease - made her bleed a lot. Her skin was always pale and gaunt. Kept to herself. You just ignored her, passed to the other side of the street when she came by. Everyone did. And now this was the woman taking Jesus away from the task at hand. Your daughter lay dying. You were close now, just around the next corner. You were almost there. If only this woman would wait her turn. You did not know this woman's quiet suffering. Your daughter lay with death a moment away threatening to rip her from the prime of her life. This woman has been dying every day a quiet, lonely death for the past 12 years. Her sickness made her an outcast. the Law of Moses said that because of her flow of blood she was unclean. Even if she wanted to go to church she could not. And so she stayed home when God's people gathered. Overlooked and ignored and quietly judged by the every sunday crowd. She could feel their stares and hear their comments muttered under their breath. So instead of going to church she looked for a cure, hoped for a cure, followed every lead to every new doctor and every new treatment. Each one promised a cure but delivered only a bill that she couldn't pay. She spent all she had and now had nothing. She too heard Jesus was in town, just back from his trip across the lake, and she thought to herself, "This is my chance. If only I touch his garment I will be healed. If only I touch his garment - that way I can sneak up behind him, quietly, unnoticed, outside the judgmental stares of the crowds." She could be free from this quiet, lonely and painful hell that she had been living for these 12 years. Desperate for Jesus she reached out her hand to touch his cloak. If only we were so desperate for Jesus. She touched the cloak of her Savior and in a moment her suffering ended. she felt it immediately. No waiting to see if this treatment would work, no need for multiple treatments. As soon as she touched him her sickness was gone. And her plan had worked. She found Jesus, touched the hem of his robe, received what her faith was seeking and could go back to her quiet life pain-free and whole. She could start again, start over, start fresh. But then Jesus stopped, right in his tracks. She only wanted a quiet exchange, no confrontation, no face to face meetings, just back door and behind the scenes. But Jesus stopped. Dead in his tracks. And turned around. And so did she. She knew what she had done. She knew she had been caught. She hoped the urging of the disciples would distract him and get him off her trail but he insisted. "Someone touched me. I felt power go out from me. Who? Who touched me?" The game was up. She turned herself in. What would Jesus do? Yell? Command? Curse? Would he give her back her illness? Would her new hell be worse than the first? No. "Daughter." said Jesus. "Go in peace. Your faith has healed you. Be free from your disease." In a word and in a moment Jesus restored her. Her body had been healed, but now also her soul. In front of everyone. All the crowds. The disciples. Jairus. Jesus restored her. If ever there was "a moment" this was it. But it was a moment Jairus couldn't spare to lose. In the next breath someone came from Jairus' house. This one Jesus had called "daughter" would cost you your daughter. "Don't trouble the teacher any more. Your daughter has died." Your worst fear has just come true. Overwhelmed with grief, you turn your head and your eyes fill with tears. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help feel in your heart anger at this woman who stole from the Healer those last precious moments. Now it is too late. This daughter is healed. Your daughter is dead. But Jesus turns to you. "Do not fear" he says. "Only believe." With that he presses on. When you round the corner to your street you see exactly that scene you have been dreading. Your front yard bustles with commotion and none of it is good. These days we would see an ambulance, a stretcher, rescue workers. Not one of them going in to help, all of them coming out the front door with heads down knowing that day they failed to save a life. As they exit, they are passed by the coroner ready to claim the body and take it away to be prepared for burial. Thoughts of a funeral, feelings of emptiness fill your head and your heart. You barely even hear the cries of the mourners. It's like you are in a dream. But Jesus pushes past. "She isn't dead." says Jesus. "She's only asleep." This is a cruel game. One that you have no stomach to play, but you follow. The professional staff treats your little girl with the coldness of their professionalism. They act like Jesus had never seen a dead person. But they knew. What's dead is dead. There is no going back. And so they laugh. Their laughter stings. But Jesus insists. With quiet authority he dismisses "the professionals" and he takes over, almost as if he were the professional, almost as if he was the authority when it came to matters of life and death, and he walked up to your daughter. Your broken and beloved daughter and he picked up her hand and he looked into her still, lifeless stare and he spoke to her. He said, "Little girl, I say to you get up." The blank stare on your dead daughter began to change. The eyes that had been fixed somewhere in the distance on nothing in particular suddenly came into focus, first on the face of Jesus. Then her eyes looked around. First to your wife, then to you. Then she sat up. You are filled with disbelief. It's like a dream. That disbelief quickly gives way to joy. Your daughter was dead. No breath no life in her young body. Jesus brought her back. Jesus made her alive. Jesus healed not just a disease. Jesus cured death. This is what Jesus does. Jesus heals. He undoes those things that take away from us our life. Jesus heals the sick. He raises the dead. He comforts the grieving. He gives hope to the hopeless. He hears and answers the call of those who are desperate to receive him. Dear friends and fellows saints, learn here what it is to believe. Learn here what it is to have faith. We live in a world that is so enthralled with its own ingenuity. that is so convinced of its own ability to find and discover and create solutions to any of life's problems. But for every solution, life creates a bigger problem, a problem for which there is no solution. Every promise only fills or fixes "for now" and never "for good". But Jesus fixes for good. For real. For ever. Because Jesus treats not just symptoms, Jesus treats sin. He pays for it on the cross. He overcomes it in the empty tomb. He gives life that lasts forever. Two daughters. One poor and at the end of her rope, one privileged and at the end of her life. Both healed and restored. Both loved and cured by Jesus. In the name of Jesus. Amen.