Saturday 28 October 2017

The Now and the Not Yet (Mark 9.2-29)



Introduction

A few years ago, I drove the car into a car wash. It was after quite a lot of snow, so I opted for the most expensive programme including a jet clean under the car body to wash off all the salt from the road.

Bad mistake! As soon as I drove it onto the main road I knew it wasn’t right. Dashboard lights started flickering. The car kept losing power. Finally, a week later, it slowed to a complete halt and I had to be towed home. If only I had hosed it down myself, it would have taken 15 minutes. I would have saved £5 on the car wash and about £300 on breakdown service and repairs.

I thought I was going to have a shiny, gleaming car, looking good as new for a fiver. In fact, water had got into the electrical circuit, and I ended up with feeling nervous on the roads, and with a nasty shock financially.

Anyone who follows Jesus is going to experience times like that when they say, “Lord, this has not turned out like I thought it would. When I came to faith, I was overwhelmed with joy. Everything was so amazing. I had a new spring in my step. Everything made sense. You answered my prayers on a daily basis. But now, to be honest, I feel a bit let down.”

Ups and Downs

The fact is that following Jesus, without exception,  involves ups and downs, highs and lows.

There are highs - undeniably. I’ve seen people healed before my eyes. I’ve seen demons driven out of people. I’ve seen prophetic ministry so accurate I actually felt scared. I’ve tasted heaven in worship. I’ve seen jaw-dropping and almost instant answers to prayer. I’ve seen God provide in miraculous ways.

But I’ve lived through some lows too. There have been times when heaven’s door seemed firmly shut in my face and bolted fast. Some days, I’ve prayed desperately but found no one home. I’ve watched people I prayed with real faith for – die. There have been times I’ve been so low and discouraged that I honestly worried that I might never come up again.

Sometimes our experience of heaven is now. Sometimes it’s very definitely not yet.

For those who have been baptized today – this is one of the highs! Praise God, and they will have many, many more. God will bless them over and over again. But they will have lows too. I guarantee it.

Ups and downs; this is what the Bible teaches. If some flashy evangelist or smarmy preacher on YouTube promises you undimmed happiness and permanent bliss he or she is lying to you.

If you want the truth, Paul says in Ephesians 1, “We have… the riches of God’s grace… lavished on us.” But in 2 Timothy 3, he says “Everyone who wants to live a godly life will be persecuted.”

If you want the truth, Peter says in 1 Peter 1 “[God] has given us new birth… an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade… in this you greatly rejoice.” But three chapters later he says, “Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you… as though something strange were happening to you.”

Supremely, Jesus tells you the truth. “Come to me all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” he says. But he also says, “In this world, you will have big trouble.”

The Highs

This is what today’s reading is all about. The first half is about an awesomely stunning event, even by the exalted and breathtaking standards of Jesus’ public ministry. It’s an encounter from another realm.

Here’s what happens: Jesus takes three key leaders Peter, James and John up a high mountain. As they go up, they’re thinking, “This is going to be cool. We’ll see for miles and miles up there. We’ll take in a great panorama of the whole of northern Israel.” But they get more than they bargain for.

What happens up there totally blows their minds. Jesus becomes transfigured before their eyes. One moment they’re looking at him, just like you’re looking at me, and the next moment the appearance of his face changes, and his clothes become overpoweringly radiant.

And this near-blinding light shines not on Jesus but through him. It says the light is dazzling white. You can’t make anything brighter. It is overwhelmingly intense. It is strange and otherworldly. It is stunningly glorious.

You’d think something like that would make a lasting impression on those who were there - and it did. Two of them, Peter and John wrote about it decades later.

Some 30 years after the event, Peter describes in vivid detail what he saw. “We were eye-witnesses of his majesty” he says. “He received honour and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased’.”

Then John, about 50 years after the event is still talking about it: “The true light that gives light to everyone [came] into the world” he says. “We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

We were eyewitnesses. We were there. We saw it with our own eyes.

But that’s not all. After the light show, it gets weirder. Two legends from the Old Testament, Moses and Elijah, appear from nowhere and start talking with Jesus.

How did anyone know it was Moses and Elijah? I’ve always wondered that. Did they have ID badges or security passes or t-shirts with their names on? These guys were dead centuries ago! How did anyone know it was them?

The technical, theological term for it is they just did. People sometimes ask, “How will I recognise so and so in heaven? They died so long ago.” Or “I never knew them personally.” You’ll just know.

We’ll know who Paul is, who Mary is, who Peter is, and we’ll certainly know who Jesus is. I believe I’ll instantly be able to identify the four babies we lost before they were born. Three miscarriages; once with twins. I’ll know who they are straight away.

Why Moses? Moses represents the law, which shows us how sinful we are, and how much we need to be saved. Why Elijah? Elijah represents the prophets. And the prophets point to the one who would bring salvation. With those two men, you have a summary of the whole point of Jesus’ mission on earth.

This is already the strangest of all spiritual experiences. But we’re not done yet. Because while all this is going on, the cloud of God’s presence descends. This is the cloud that filled the temple in Solomon’s time, that was so glorious, so awe-inspiring, so powerful, that nobody could do their work. Everybody had to stop.

Peter doesn’t know what to do. And Peter being Peter, he can’t just watch. He’s an extrovert so he has to externalise; he thinks by talking. He has to say something even if it’s the stupidest thing ever – which in fact it is. Here’s what he comes out with; “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three shelters, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

He’s just spurting out the first thing that comes into his skull because he’s officially freaked out.

But subconsciously, he’s doing what we usually want to do during a spiritual high. We want to hang on to the feeling forever. We try and capture it.

Peter is saying, “This is huge! I love this! John and James are so great to have around. I get on well with them. I know! We could start a brand new Life Group, up here. And Jesus, I’m sure I speak for the others, when I say, we’d love to have you lead our new Life Group.

James can light a campfire. And John can make the tea. Moses can answer all our theological questions about the Old Testament. Elijah can lead the prayer time. And I’ll order some tents from Millets online, and get them delivered up here. We can hang out together.  

And we don’t even need torches – Jesus, you’re easily bright enough, really dazzling in fact. So why don’t we just stay right here and keep this to ourselves?”

Some of you have been to Soul Survivor or New Wine or Spring Harvest or Keswick. How did it go? “Oh, it was amazing!” What was amazing about it? “Oh, the worship, the teaching, the sense of community, the fun, even the camping. Best of all, the wait for the toilets was excellent…”

It meant so much to you, and God blessed your life. Now, you want to relive it every day.  

That’s where Peter’s coming from. And just when they think it can’t get any better, they actually hear God’s voice audibly. Wow! The whole thing is breathtaking.

What does the voice say? “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”

You should highlight and underline that in your Bible. Listen to Jesus. Don’t listen to people who want to confuse you with trendy philosophies, alternative views and half-truths, and worldly so-called wisdom. Don’t listen to the devil. Put him on permanent mute.
Don’t listen to false teachers. And don’t listen to all the critics. Jesus has the words of eternal life. Listen to him.

Jesus is not just a great teacher alongside Socrates or Gandhi. Jesus is not just another prophet alongside Mohammed or Confucius. Jesus is in a completely different category. He is the image of the invisible God. Listen to him.

It doesn’t matter what the celebrities say, what world leaders say, what religious people say, or what the opinion polls say about Jesus. Who cares? What does God the Father say about Jesus? “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”  

The Lows

But, just like the disciples, who have to come down from the mountain, whenever you have a spiritual high, there comes a time when you also must descend.

Why? Because while mountaintop experiences inspire us, only the valley matures us. God wants you mature.

For Peter, James and John, everything goes downhill from this point on – literally. And there are some tough realities awaiting them down there. Impotence, failure, ineffectiveness, embarrassment, humiliation…

What happens when they get to the valley?

They find themselves surrounded by a crowd which includes mischief-makers and cynics. Verse14 says that certain elements are picking a quarrel, telling everyone how useless the disciples are.

It’s nothing new. These days, argumentative people say things like:
·         Faith should only be a private matter
·         Christians are hateful bigots
·         Teaching children about God is child abuse
·         God is a delusion
·         Wars are caused by organised religion

The truth is that organised religion is not and never was the answer to the world’s problems.

But organised religion is not what Jesus came to bring. He came to set prisoners free, to change violent people into kind people, to restore messed-up lives and mend broken families. And when people meet Jesus everything changes.

As a church leader, from time to time, I get requests to go and investigate and deal with some kind of paranormal complaint.

Usually, it’s a house in which there are reports of strange goings on, such as lights coming on all by themselves or objects that are inexplicably moved overnight. Several times I have been asked to see individuals who have become disturbed having dabbled with something evil like the occult.

What we read about in the Gospel earlier seems to be a particularly disturbing case like this.

There is a father agonising over his son. Imagine being a parent of a child with seizures like this near fire and water, whose body is covered with burns and scars. And occasionally he’s robbed of speech, so he can’t cry for help if he’s burning or drowning. You don’t know when the demon might attack. It’s terrifying! There appears to be no hope and no relief. Parents, this is your worst nightmare, right here.

The disciples attempt to sort it out, giving it their best shot, but they are out of their depth and basically, whatever they try it doesn’t work. You know that helpless feeling when everything you do makes things worse?

But the Bible says in v15 that when the people see Jesus, they are overwhelmed with wonder. There is something about Jesus that just sets him above everyone else. When he is around anything is possible.

People sometimes think when everything is falling apart around them that God should sort it all out. Why doesn’t God come down and do something?! But actually, that’s the wrong way round. It’s not that God should come to us, it’s that we should go to God. What does Jesus say? “Bring the boy to me.” He wants you and me to go to him.

The boy’s father is at the end of his rope. “If you can do anything, then please help us,” he says to Jesus.

Jesus replies “What’s with the if? Everything is possible for the one who believes.” And you can see that the man is torn. “I do have some faith but…”

How would he answer an opinion poll on religious belief? Probably somewhere between “I believe in something but I am not sure what” and “I’m an agnostic who’s genuinely open.”

So he says, “Look, I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.”

Is that enough faith? What do you think? How much faith do you need? In “the not yet” we don’t always have as much as we’d like to have.

How would you answer that opinion poll? If you would say you’re on a journey but haven’t arrived yet, be encouraged by this man.

How much faith does he have? Not much. He’s wavering. “Honestly, I’m not all there yet,” he says. But that is enough for Jesus to work with because crucially he says, “Help me overcome my unbelief.”

He is honest and open to grow. Come to Jesus Christ with a hungry heart and an open mind, and with the little faith you have.

Jesus is prepared to go with his hesitant faith because he is not content to stay where he is. Everything… is possible… for one who believes.

Jesus deals with the situation with a word of authority. That’s all it takes. Then it all kicks off. There’s chaos. There’s noise. There’s violence. There’s mess. There’s drama. And then there’s peace. That’s what God does. That’s his trade; bringing order out of chaos since forever.

Ending

As I end, I want to come back to the disciples. Out of their depth. Powerless. Ineffectual.

You’ve got to feel for them, haven’t you? Not only do they fail spectacularly and publicly to make any difference for this boy, when Jesus arrives he shows his exasperation at them for being so ineffective.

“Why couldn’t we drive the evil spirit out?” Good question. In chapter 6 they were doing it for fun. Jesus gave them authority and sent them out. It says “they went out and preached that people should repent. They drove out many demons and anointed with oil many people who were ill and healed them.”

So why does it all go wrong this time? They had become cocky and self-sufficient. “We can do this. We’ve got this covered. We’ve done a course on casting out demons and we all passed the exam. Stand aside and let the experts take care of this.”

“This kind can only come out by prayer,” Jesus says. “You should have talked to God before you made a mess of things. That’s why you failed.”

They were forgetting that the secret of power in ministry comes from prayer. As the 19th Century preacher Charles Spurgeon said, “Prayer is the slender nerve that moves the muscle of omnipotence.”

I don’t pray when I am the lord of my life. What’s the point of prayer? I am so awesome. I can manage just fine on my own. When I am god of my own life I’ll never pray at all.

But without Jesus, you don’t have any power, or any authority – and nor do I. Jesus says, “Apart from me, you can do nothing.”

Let’s stand…


Sermon preached at All Saints' Preston on Tees, 29 October 2017


Sunday 8 October 2017

New Ground (Mark 7.24-37)



Introduction

- I never forget a face, but in your case, I’m willing to make an exception. 

- My psychiatrist told me I was mad. I said I wanted a second opinion. He said “You're ugly too.”

- If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person on earth.

- Two wrongs don't make a right - take your parents as an example.

- I can always tell when you’re lying. Your lips move.

One-liner put downs; usually we enjoy them but, to be honest, maybe we feel a bit guilty about it. And if we do feel guilty perhaps it’s because we think, as Christians, that we shouldn’t be getting pleasure from someone else’s humiliation.

So when we read Mark 7.27, as we did a few moments ago, I suspect most of us feel quite uncomfortable. Did I read that right? Did something get lost in translation? Did Jesus really just call that woman “a dog”? Surely not!

Background

We’ll come back to that, but first, let’s set today’s reading in context.

For the first time in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus leaves the region around the Sea of Galilee; a land that is almost entirely made up of small Jewish communities. Now, starting in v24, he moves out into new ground, a place he's never been before, where only Gentiles live. 

He travels with his disciples to a place called Tyre, which is about 30 miles to the north, in modern-day Lebanon. 

Tyre was a wealthy trading port and its prosperity fuelled a culture of excess. People from there worshipped gaudy idols, they lived promiscuous lives, they ruled with an iron fist, they were corrupt and unjust traders, and everyone saw them as arrogant and proud. 

Let me quote a few words about Tyre from Ezekiel 28. “In much buying and selling you became violent... Your beauty went to your head... Your heart is arrogant, going around saying, 'I’m a god. I sit on the throne of a god in the heart of the seas' …. because of your great wealth your heart has grown proud...”

The Jews hated these people; they felt they were utterly beyond the pale - and the feeling was mutual. It was like the enmity you find today between Israelis and Palestinians.

So what is Jesus doing in a place like this? Basically, he has little choice. Everywhere he goes in Jewish territory, he’s in trouble. He’s doubted by his own family and rejected by his home town. He’s opposed by his own religious authorities. 

And he’s accompanied by twelve disciples who are so slow-witted he would have been better off with a dozen scarecrows from eBay, so they're not much help either.

Jesus is starting to seriously make enemies. He is taking the entire elaborate system of man-made religion, with all its vested interests, that dominated his day, and he is blowing it apart. He’s becoming a marked man for the powers that be. And the net is starting to close in. You can see why he had to get away for a bit.

1. The Syro-Phoenician Woman

That's why it says in v24 “Jesus entered a house in the vicinity of Tyre and did not want anyone to know it.” He wants to lie low away from the tinderbox atmosphere of his home land.

You know what it’s like when you’ve had a difficult day at work, and a stressful journey home, and just when you get back to a bit of peace and quiet, the washing machine leaks all over the kitchen floor, the phone rings, and the Jehovah’s Witnesses knock at the door? Have you had days like that? This is what happens here. Sort of. 

Jesus and his disciples, remember, have been at it non-stop. Every time they plan a break, someone turns up with a pressing need. “Fix this, mend that, help my child, feed this crowd, heal my dad, cure my wife…” On top of that, they’ve just walked all day on a dusty country road. 

But even here Jesus cannot keep his presence secret. As soon as she hears Jesus is in town, a needy woman with a troubled daughter tracks him down, knocks at the door, walks right in, falls at his feet, tells him her story, unloads all her problems on him, and pleads, and begs, and implores Jesus to get up, put his shoes and coat back on, and head off with her, and sort it all out. 

Matthew’s Gospel says the little girl was “suffering terribly.” Is there any human pain more excruciating than watching your own children endure terrible suffering? I can remember my kids with tears running down their sweet faces because they were being bullied at school. I know how heartbreaking that is. I would do anything to change their world and make it right. 

This little girl is deeply troubled, oppressed and afflicted. There’s demonic heaviness and darkness and the shadow of evil - and whatever her desperate mother tries, she can't fix it, nothing works. How long has this poor woman carried her daughter’s pain in her heart?

So, (v25) she falls at Jesus’ feet and (v26) begs him to help. And Jesus says “no.” In fact, in Matthew’s version, we read at first that he says nothing to her at all. He responds by ignoring her. He just blanks her. This is not the Jesus we know! What’s going on?

Have you ever prayed, and prayed, and prayed, and agonised before the Lord about something that has been very important to you and been met with a deafening silence from heaven? Have you ever felt that in answer to your best prayers God just does nothing? Have you ever given up bothering to pray because God seems to ignore you?  

In fact, Jesus doesn’t actually say “no.” But it would almost be easier for us if he did. Instead, we have one of the most baffling sayings of Jesus in all four Gospels. It’s not a misprint; Matthew records exactly the same thing. The one thing you can say is that this is surely proof that the Gospels are authentic and factual, because no one would have made up what follows.

Jesus says in v27, “First, let the children eat all they want, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” I’ve looked that up in all the versions. Even in The Message, it's the same. 

 “The children get fed first. If there’s any left over, the dogs get it.” If anything, in The Message it sounds slightly worse!

We like dogs. We call them “man’s best friend.” They're loyal and friendly. We put their pictures on Facebook and talk about them as if they were human sometimes. In fact, let’s put some pictures up of some really nice dogs… Say “ah” if you think they're cute.... 

We love dogs. But in the Middle-East, in Jesus’ day, calling someone a dog was a term of contempt and it still is; it’s an insult because most dogs there are flea-ridden mongrels. 

When the Jews looked down on the Gentiles and called them dogs, this is what they meant. 

That’s why at the start of this chapter they obsessed about washing their hands because they had been near Gentiles who were considered unclean. You had to get rid of the contamination. Except, you’ll remember from last week, that Jesus and his followers didn’t do that. 

The word Jesus uses is not kuon, which is your common street dog, scavenging around bins and rubbish tips, but kunarion, which means a smaller, cute family pet.

We actually use dog language today in totally inoffensive ways. We all know people of a certain age who will never get computerised and we say, “well, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” It's a metaphor. We don't take it as directly insulting or offensive. Jesus' remark is similarly indirect; it's not like he says “You're a dog, madam, get lost.”

But, let’s be honest, this is still a difficult word and with an apparent coldness so uncharacteristic of Jesus.

What's this all about? He is telling the hard truth about the community this woman belonged to. They were estranged from God. They were lost in their idolatries and superstitions. They hated God’s people and were proud of it. They were cut off from God’s promises and didn’t care. Their arrogance and self-sufficiency and vanity were what these people were known for. 

This is the key to why Jesus talks to her in the way he does. He wants to know if she is willing to distance herself from the pride of her people and come to God, poor in spirit.

And the answer is yes. She accepts as true what Jesus says about her pagan background. 

The greatness of her faith is shown by the fact that she not only recognises who Jesus is (she calls him Lord), but she refuses to take “no” for an answer, and won't go home empty-handed. Like Jacob in Genesis 32, her attitude is “I will not let you go until you bless me.”

Jesus loves the meekness of her reply; “Lord, if it’s from your table, I’ll take the scraps. That’ll be all I need.”

There’s a very old and beautiful prayer we say sometimes before Holy Communion and it comes from this story. Some of you know it.

“We do not presume to come to this your table, merciful Lord,
trusting in our own righteousness, but in your manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under your table. But you are the same Lord whose nature is always to have mercy.”

This Syro-Phoenician woman has heard about what happens when Jesus is in town. 
·         Blind people see again
·         Paralytics walk again 
·         Dead bodies breathe again
·         Evil spirits get sent packing
·         Lepers’ flaky skin becomes young again. 

She is only asking for a single cure; one crumb! It doesn’t need to be a whole loaf, or even whole a slice, let alone a full meal. “Just let me have one crumb! That’ll be all I need.” What faith! 

Jesus says, “For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter.”

And the Bible says that “she went home and found her daughter relaxed on the bed, the torment gone for good” (MSG).

All this is challenging for me because I’m a Gentile too. So are most of you. Am I prepared to swallow my pride and come with humility and brokenness, and accept Jesus’ verdict upon me, a sinner, with an unclean heart by nature, unfit even to gather up crumbs from under a table, and ask for grace?

The amazing thing is that, though all of us are unworthy of crumbs, we all get invited to a banquet!

Parenthesis

So this is Jesus going into new ground, beyond his homeland and bringing blessing to an entirely new audience.

This is interesting to me because I have been asking God for a few years now what entering new ground would look like for us at All Saints'. 

God is leading us to redevelop and extend our building. That will be an important focus for us over the next few years. 

We're going to have more space to fill, and the Lord has already been adding to our number in anticipation of that extra space being created.

But I think there’s more. I felt prompted by the Holy Spirit a few months ago to speak with the Bishop about an offer I had made a few years earlier, and which essentially came to nothing, to send out a team from All Saints, led by a curate, to plant a daughter version of All Saints' into another community.

Extend the building or plant out a team? I have a growing conviction that it is not either/or but both/and. If the Jesus we've been reading about this morning is the same Jesus we know and love, I have faith that we can grow the building and fill it, and also send out a team of maybe 30-40 people in a few years' time to plant a new church.

I expected the Bishop to say no, that wouldn’t be possible, but to my surprise, he told me that this is right in line with what he thinks God is saying about his strategy for mission and growth. Things are at a very, very early stage, and I can't say more now, but I would encourage you to start praying about this. If God is in it, and I think he is, nothing will be able to stop it. 

2. The Deaf and Mute Man

Jesus leaves that place and heads back to the Decapolis. It's back in Galilee, but it is Gentile territory. The last time he was here was in chapter 5, do you remember? He met a weird, naked, shrieking, self-harming man living in a cemetery calling himself Legion and he delivered him of his demons and said “Stay here and tell everyone what God has done for you.”

That’s why when Jesus comes back here in v33 it says there’s a crowd. The evangelist formerly known as Legion has been busy. In fact, at the start of chapter 8, there are 4,000 people there who listen to Jesus preaching for three days! So that’s the secret to church growth; three-day sermons!

People bring to Jesus a deaf-mute. Imagine what it must be like to be this man. Put yourself in his shoes. You are cut off from the world. You have never heard the voices of your loved ones. You don’t know what birdsong sounds like, or music, or laughter, or the rustling of trees… or fingernails scratching down a blackboard (there are some advantages to being deaf…) 

Why the fingers in the ears? Notice that Jesus hardly ever heals the same way as he did before. Each time, he does an entirely new thing. He listens to the prompting of the Holy Spirit, and however strange it seems, he goes with that.

Why the spit? And incidentally aren’t you glad the prayer team isn’t trained in the ministry of expectoration? Thank God we don’t sing songs like “Come, Holy Spit,” “Washed in the Dribble of the Lamb” and “These are the Days of Saliva.”

What’s Jesus doing? He is going out of his way to explain what he’s doing to a man who cannot hear, in order to raise his faith and expectation. This is a mime.

The fingers in the ears – to communicate that he is going to do something about his hearing. 

The spit on the tongue, (the Jewish Talmud mentions spittle on the tongue as a means of healing), to communicate that he wants to do something about his speech.

Jesus lifts his gaze – to communicate looking to heaven and asking the Father. 

The deep sigh is also a very visible signal – to communicate that Jesus is moved with compassion. 

And finally, this word “Ephphatha” meaning “be opened!” Probably the most lip-readable word in the Aramaic dictionary.

Jesus ministers at a level that people can understand. What more do I need to say? The man opens his mouth, his tongue is loosened and he starts to speak coherently and clearly. 

“He has done everything well,” they say.

Ending 

Hasn’t he? Isn’t God good and isn't Jesus awesome!

Let's stand to pray...


Sermon preached at All Saints' Preston on Tees, 8 October 2017