What do you say?

This sermon was preached at Wise Baptist Church, Wise, NC on June 27, 2010; and at my home church, Heritage Baptist Church, Wake Forest, NC on July 11, 2010.

I attended Meredith College for my undergraduate degree, and I majored in religion because I knew that I would be going to divinity school for my masters. If I had it to do all over again, I would choose a different major, maybe English or more likely history. You can blame my parents for the history buff I am. For as long as I can remember, they took my brother and I to various historical sites all over the country, and so many museums that I can’t begin to name them all. There were even two cross country trips to California to visit my grandparents; and if there was something historical to see along the way, we saw it. And it was fun. It was interesting to me. Couple that with all the PBS I watched since our television only picked up 7 channels—2 of them PBS; and my brain was so full of stuff, I don’t know how I ever sorted it out or kept it all straight.

But there is a trick to learning history that I picked up in my US Government class in ninth grade—it is all related. For every event, there is something that came before: a movement, a trigger, a revolt. And as my classmates in that Government class struggled to write every word out of the teacher’s mouth, I just kept track of the whys and hows and I did just as well on the tests without injuring my hand.

The whys of history. Do you know why you are attending a Baptist church today? I am Baptist because my mother is Baptist. And her parents, and their parents. It’s what I know, even if I never knew the history of Baptists—what they stood for and how the beliefs came into being—until I was in my early 20s in divinity school at Gardner-Webb University. There must not be very many Baptist historical sites for my parents to seek out. I only knew the obvious belief that separated us from other denominations—we dunked not sprinkled like that Methodist church down the road.

So this sermon is about the all-so-important Baptist belief of soul freedom. And it is part history lesson—maybe you won’t fall asleep on me. Even if you are not Baptist (and that’s fine! I am very ecumenical these days) there is the story of decision and confession that is something that all Christians have in common. And for that story, I direct your attention to Matthew 16, verses 13 through 20.

¹³ When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?"

¹⁴ They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

¹⁵ "But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?"

¹⁶ Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."

¹⁷ Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. ¹⁸ And I tell you that you are Peter, ^b]">[b] and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death ^c]">[c] will not overcome it. ¹⁹ I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be ^d]">[d] bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be ^e]">[e] loosed in heaven." ²⁰ Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Imagine this scene: a young man is working in his parent’s business. He is a young man, about 21 years old. I’ll call him Bill. When he was a young boy, Bill thought that he would become a teacher. This was due to his fourth grade teacher, Mr. Roberts who was the first male teacher that Bill had ever seen. But that year in Mr. Roberts’ class made a strong impression on young Bill, and from then on Bill told everyone that he was going to become a teacher. But fourth grade isn’t all that difficult, and by the time Bill got to high school where the learning was more difficult, he was an average student. Bill managed to get into one of the state universities, but college is a lot different from high school. Sometimes Bill had trouble completing assignments and managing his time, he sometimes got the words all mixed up when he read—possibly dyslexia that went undiagnosed. Some concepts were too difficult for Bill to learn. After a year, Bill was frustrated with being in college. He managed to get Cs, but it had taken a lot of work.

Bill had always helped his parents in their hardware shop. He could practically run the business himself—even down to the bookkeeping—he was always good with numbers. So, Bill decided that he would just drop out of college and help his parents. After all, they were getting older, and Bill had a girlfriend that he was planning on marrying. But in the back of his mind, Bill wished that he had a second chance at being a teacher.

One day a man showed up in the store. He was dressed in a suit—and his face reminded Bill of Mr. Roberts who had moved away some years before. Even before Bill heard the man explain he was a teacher to another customer in the store, Bill had already had this guy pegged. He knew he was a teacher. As the man came up to the cash register where Bill was working, he stopped and looked Bill square in the eye. He said, “I know you’ve always wanted to be a teacher. Come with me. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

And just like that, Bill removed his work apron and stepped from behind the counter, and left the store with this man.

Now put this Bill in first century Palestine and change his name to Peter. Peter started school like all the other Jewish boys in his community—at religious school, being taught by a rabbi. Peter and his classmates learned about God and the history of their people and the law. It was fascinating stuff to young Peter as he finally realized why they made sacrifices and kept the Sabbath holy and celebrated festivals. Peter looked at his rabbi and knew there was no other thing he wanted to do with his own life. But it was not to be. The rabbi only took the smartest of his scholars into more difficult teachings beyond the pre-teen years. So Peter finished religious school and went out to learn a trade instead. Along the way, Peter got married and worked to support his family.

Peter was a fisherman, and no one knew the waters of the Sea of Galilee better than Peter. He hated for anyone to tell him how to do his job. Peter was good at fishing. But in the back of his mind, Peter wished he could learn more about the God of his Fathers: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Was there something new he could learn?

One day, a man comes up to Peter, and Peter realizes that this is a rabbi. Rabbis were always walking around Palestine with a group of followers, but this man, this rabbi, had no followers with him. The rabbi looks at Peter and says, “Follow me. I will help you fish for people.” And Peter sees his chance. He immediately gets up and goes with this man; the man that we know is Jesus. Here is Peter’s second chance. And from the gospels, we know that Peter sure did learn a lot in those few years with Jesus.

Jesus called the common people of his day to follow him—not the rabbis, not the Pharisees, not the ruling Roman leaders. Jesus called his disciples from their ordinary lives. Those disciples learned a whole lot more about God that is for sure. Who would have ever guessed that a group of common men and women would walk with the greatest rabbi of all time? Not the brightest, not the smartest, not the richest, but everyday people. Those are the ones Jesus called.

Jump forward a century and a half to the 1500s; there was a man by the name of William Tyndale. Tyndale was an Oxford educated scholar and one day he saw “at first hand the ignorance of the local clergy.” It is reported that Tyndale declared to the ignorant priest, “If God spare my life, ere many years pass, I will cause a boy that driveth the plough [to] know more of the Scriptures than [y]ou.” And Tyndale’s life’s work was to see that the bible was translated into English. You see, before the invention of the printing press a century before Tyndale lived, there was no chance that an individual outside of academic institutions would have read the bible in their own language. All bibles were hand-printed in Latin. The priests in the churches all used Latin for the mass. Sometimes the common people in the church during service would only know parts of the bible from the artwork they saw in church or what their priest told them after confessing their sins. In school we would call that kind of learning “not from a primary source,” and it would be frowned on in our research papers. Tyndale changed that.

After the bible was translated into English, a literate person could understand its words. An illiterate person could learn to read from that bible. And so, a whole new world was opened to the common people. Men and women, boys and girls could read the stories and lessons of the bible and learn about God. This let the boy think about spiritual ideas while driving the plow. Suddenly, the bible was not just a book that only a priest or scholar could use.

Almost 500 years ago—a decade or so before William Tyndale, there lived a German priest by the name of Martin Luther. As you may know, Luther challenged the medieval theology of Roman Catholic Church—a theology that said that God’s grace was only accessible in the church and mediated through the sacraments by the priests—a little clearer stated: you had to go to church and take the sacraments given to you by the priest in order to have salvation. However, Luther said that grace is gained by an individual’s coming before God directly and personally and voluntarily. While this idea began the Protestant Reformation, if you add the translated bibles, it was a radical idea—suddenly the saving grace of God was personal, an individual act from an individual heart because the common people could read the Bible for themselves.

When Baptists came around a century later in the 1600s, they affirmed the individual over the institution, the personal over the sacramental, and direct access to God over an earthly mediator—the priest. This belief is still one of the foundations of the Baptist faith, and it is called by any number of titles: individual competency, the competency of the soul before God, personal faith, soul liberty, spiritual religion, believer priesthood, etc. It is Freedom of the Soul. Soul Freedom. And it gives you the right to answer Jesus’ question in Matthew 16:15, “’What about you?’ [Jesus] ask[s], ‘Who do you say that I am?’”

The writer of Matthew had a purpose in this gospel. The book is written to create a link between the Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah and this Jesus of Nazareth who is responsible for the New Testament. That is why we have the genealogy as the preface to this gospel so that we can link Jesus to the history of the Israelites. Peter’s confession in Matthew 16:16—that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God” is the key to the entire gospel. It is the hinge upon which the gospel swings; in artistic terms, it is the focal point. The reader of the gospel is supposed to say, “Aha! There it is!” After all, don’t you look for the writer’s purpose when you read? If you were a first grader, I would say yes because my son’s first grade Tuesday night homework was to read a children’s picture book and figure out the writer’s purpose—that is something I don’t remember doing until I was in high school, if then.

Anyway, Peter knew how to answer Jesus because Peter had been learning. Peter had followed Jesus. He heard the lessons taught—you know, the ones Jesus taught on the mountain—the Sermon on the Mount with all of those Beatitudes I had to learn as a teenager, and the stuff about loving your enemies, and being the salt of the earth, and how to pray to God, and storing up your treasures in heaven. Also, Peter had seen Jesus heal the sick, the demon-possessed, the paralyzed, the leper, and Jesus had brought a girl back to life. And Peter heard the stories—the parables that Jesus taught. Boy, those stories just suck you right in and then hit you upside the head with what you are supposed to learn from them. Also, Peter had been sent out to preach in the towns by Jesus, and Peter never took a preaching class and been critiqued by his peers. Oh the things Peter had witnessed! Peter had seen a whole crowd of people eat from one person’s lunch—and not just once—that had happened twice in Jesus’ ministry! Peter had even seen Jesus help a Canaanite woman, a person any other rabbi would have shunned. We won’t even mention all that Peter learned from the walking on water incident. I think that Peter would have learned by chapter 16 of Matthew’s gospel that Jesus was limitless. Jesus was divine. Peter confesses that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” For all of Peter’s rash statements later to come in this gospel: the fussing at Jesus when Jesus says he is going to Jerusalem to be killed, the whole misunderstanding of the transfiguration in the very next chapter, and even the denial of Jesus during Jesus’ trial—it didn’t change the significance of Peter’s answer to Jesus’ question. I guess this moment of Peter’s answer is the moment of his salvation— when he declared Jesus as the Son of God, Peter was saved.

Baptists like to use that word “saved” an awful lot. I’ve been in Baptist churches all my life, and I wish I had a nickel for every time I have heard it in a sermon—I would already have a couple of nickels here now. Yet, being saved is not the same experience for all Christians. Some have direct and dramatic encounters with God like Saul did on the Damascus Road. But not everyone. Some may sit in a congregation in a worship service and suddenly understand that they need to belong to God. But not everyone. Some may not know the exact moment they were saved. But not everyone. The common denominator in Baptist life is that our salvation is something that we choose—no one chooses it for us. My experience of salvation at age eight was of understanding that I needed to make a decision to follow Jesus. I walked down the aisle at the close of the service on the last night of the week at South Mountain Baptist Camp near Morganton, North Carolina. I later went down the aisle in my small country church as a demonstration of my decision—what Baptists usually call the public profession of faith. And I was baptized a few weeks later. What can a child of eight understand about salvation? I understood as an eight year old and as I matured physically, emotionally, mentally; so also I grew spiritually to understand better what it meant to follow Christ. But I think that my own decision was just a part of the journey of my faith. I think that I had decided to follow Jesus long before that—it was more of a process in my life. And so I am a bit unsure of the exact moment salvation came to me. Never believe that you have to know the exact minute and place you were saved—cause some preachers use that line. I’ve heard that and seen the reaction, and it just isn’t a Baptist principle to force a person to have the same experience of salvation.

Back to history, and I’ll tell you another Baptist thing that happened because of soul freedom. In 1609, John Smyth, the founding father of the Baptist faith, introduced a radical concept to the world--it was that baptism should be administered to believers only. Not many people of Smyth’s day would go that far. You see, baptism was something done at birth. The Catholic Church had infant baptism. The Church of England kept infant baptism after splintering away from the Catholic Church. Even the Protestant Churches of the Reformation kept infant baptism. Only a handful of Anabaptists believers—a sect in central Europe—had rejected infant baptism as a tenet of belief. John Smyth did a radical thing when he defined believers’ baptism and baptized himself and other members of his congregation in the early 17^th century. It was a dangerous thing to do, too. You see, when a baby was baptized into a congregation, that boy or girl was placed in the church rolls, their membership. The church had a record of everyone since all had been baptized at birth, and those records were a great resource for the tax collectors who came around. If a congregation decided to not baptize infants, well that is pretty threatening to a government. This new-fangled Baptist faith had already messed enough with the status quo when it let its members call for freedom from the Church of England. The Church of England and the ruler of England were one in the sense that they controlled people’s lives. The King of England was even considered the head of the Church of England. These early Baptist affected the king’s treasury AND demanded freedom from the state—the king of England—which sounds all too familiar this time of year—last week was the 4^th of July. And once again, these Baptists were standing on the principle of soul freedom. They felt they had a measure of authority about their religious life. And no other person on earth could take that from them.

Declaring our salvation in Christ does give us authority according to our passage in Matthew 16. After Peter’s confession, Jesus said:

Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

Authority—Peter’s got it. The Catholic Church uses this passage to show that Peter was the first pope, as if Peter is the rock himself because Peter mean “rock.” Although it could just mean a rock—in the Holy Land where this exchange is reported to have taken place there are a lot of rocks and there is a church there. What “this rock” means, I don’t know. However, I do know that the intention here is to say that this confession of Peter comes with authority. The early Baptists would have said that it is an authority to share this message—that Jesus is the Messiah the Son of the living God. Perhaps it also gave them that authority to defy the spiritual leaders of their day—maybe even defying the King. That kind of defiance can mean imprisonment and hardship and torture and maybe death. Those are some strong beliefs from this little minority of believers called Baptists.

There is authority in your story—your story of salvation. It may not seem impressive, maybe a simple declaration, a little push from the Holy Spirit. Your story doesn’t have to be Baptist. But it is the story of how you answered this question, “Who do you say Jesus is?” Your answer is your authority.

One of the best things I have done recently was last October when I went on the Heritage Baptist Church ladies’ retreat to Emerald Isle. As the mother of three young children, I can honestly say that a full night’s sleep is a wonderful thing. And being responsible for just yourself—no one else—is a great feeling from time-to-time. During the retreat at our last devotional time together, we were asked to say what we were thankful for—not including family (because that is the obvious choice). Now being an introvert, I just can’t come up with answers so quickly. I had to think about that one for a while—even beyond our devotional time. But the answer that came to me was freedom—probably because I experienced some freedom that weekend. I am thankful for freedom. I have the choice to believe in God, to serve God, to worship God as I want, to read the bible and interpret it myself. I don’t know why that thought popped into my head that day. But I have remembered it. And today, I’ll say that I guess I am thankful to be Baptist because to be Baptist is to be free. No one is forcing me to believe in a certain way. No one is forcing me to preach today. No one is forcing me to worship God in a certain way. No one is forcing me to give up my TNIV bible in favor of a King James Version. As strange as it is to say this in church, when it comes to salvation, it is all about me...and God. I have to make up my own mind. My faith is an individual decision as I answer the question of who this Jesus is to me.

:)

When God Speaks

When God Speaks

1 Samuel 3:1-20
February 1, 2008
Heritage Baptist Church

I am a night owl. I have no problem staying up until 1 AM. When I was on-call at WakeMed last semester, the early hours after midnight energized me at least until around 4:30 AM. My dad says I have always been like that. I was born at 8:31 PM, and Daddy told me that at midnight that night, I was the only baby in the hospital nursery who was wide awake.

This week I was thinking about how I would stay up reading at night when I was a pre-teen and teenager. Sometimes you just get into a good book and don’t want to stop. I have done that as an adult just this past week, but it wasn’t the joy I remembered as I struggled through the next day tired and sleepy. I don’t have the option of sleeping in anymore when I hear a voice saying, “I’m hungry. Mommy, where’s breakfast?”

I have been thinking a lot about how my sleep habits have changed. When I was a child, I didn’t want to go to bed. As a teenager, I wanted to sleep until noon. As a college student, I made sure that there were no 8 AM classes (and if there were, there was time for a nap later in the morning). As a summer worker at the textile mill, I slept all day because I worked third shift. As a part of an archaeology dig in Jordan one summer, I had to go to bed by 7 PM because wake-up was at 3 AM so that we could get our work done before the heat of the afternoon became unbearable. As a young mother, I didn’t get much sleep with a baby that wanted to be held all the time. Now, on Sundays, the early service is not so appealing, but I usually promise myself a nap later (I guess I treat it like an 8 AM college class). Thankfully, I have never suffered from insomnia yet. I know that it may be in my future at some point.

With all that sleep or no sleep, I have never heard the voice of God. I have heard my parents tell me to stop singing and go to sleep. I have heard my parents tell me to stop reading and go to sleep. I have to respond to a baby’s cries, so I can go back to sleep. No, God hasn’t come a callin’. It could happen or not. I’m not losing sleep over it though.

In our passage today, we don’t know if Samuel was asleep. He was lying down in the house of the Lord. Samuel served as a sort of apprentice to Eli. He lived in the tents that contained the Ark of the Covenant. And that was where Samuel was going to sleep, as he waited for the last drops in the oil lamp to burn.

We do not know how old Samuel is in this passage. He had been with Eli since he was weaned around age 2 or 3. Samuel did not know the Lord yet. More than likely he was still younger than 12, a very concrete thinker. Children do not grasp abstract thought until they are pre-teens. This fact does not mean that Samuel did not know who God was, but rather, Samuel did not have a personal relationship with God yet. He understood God as a child would.

It is a wonder that anyone at this time knew who God was. There was a drought—a drought of God’s Word. Verse 1 says that “in those days the word of the Lord was rare.” It was a time of major cultural, governmental, and spiritual upheaval. The Israelites were moving from the time of the judges into a time of the monarchy—being led by a king. There was war with the Philistines—a group of people who had settled along the coast of Palestine and kept venturing closer and closer to the hills where the Israelites lived. It was a time when the priests did not do the right things to lead the people. Eli’s sons, who were also priests, were wicked. They did not respect the offerings that were presented to God, and they did not respect God’s holy places. Eli knew the wicked ways of his sons and did nothing to stop them. So God uses a boy to reveal the future, a vision. God’s prophet Samuel hears a voice.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we could sometimes hear a voice from God? We struggle to determine the right course of action. We look to scriptures mired in one cultural perspective to find our way in our culture today. Just as the people in Samuel’s day needed a spiritual vision, we too need a spiritual vision. This is not a vision like a human vision of the future—thinking about where we will be in 5 years or 10. This vision is a spiritual vision—a plan for God’s kingdom on earth.

Times are difficult now. Even an optimistic person such as I dreads to see the front of the newspaper these days. There is great turmoil. People are losing jobs, losing houses, losing savings—it is not a pretty picture. It may be keeping you from sleep at night. Culturally and governmentally our nation is shifting as well. Can spiritual change be coming, too? It starts with a message from God.

Samuel heard God’s voice as he lay by the Ark of the Covenant—that box that contained the precious relics of the Israelites: the ten commandment tablets, Aaron’s rod, manna. Those things were the physical evidence of God’s covenant with the Israelites. It was a holy place for Samuel to be. He was physically in a place where God dwelled.

As a parent and a Christian, I know it is my responsibility to see that my sons are in places where God dwells. Church is an important part of our week. Reading from the Bible and discussing Bible stories are also important. Many people in our churches think that teaching children about spiritual things is the job of the church, the pastor, or the children’s minister. I am here to tell you that it is the parents’ responsibility. Do you know who your children look to for spiritual guidance? It is you as you sit in this church sanctuary. It is you as you bow your head in prayer. It is you as you talk with your sons and daughters about what it means for you to be in this place. It is you as your children realize how much and how important it is to be in the presence of God in worship. I am so thankful to be a part of a church that encourages children to be present in worship. One of the first things I was told on my first day at Heritage was that my 2 year old son would be welcome in the worship service. I used to worry that my son would be disruptive. It is difficult to keep children quiet when they are 2 and 3. But in the past few years, I have realized that I am teaching my children that worship and the worship service itself are important to me. I am hopeful that this lesson will be a life-long one for them.

Samuel was in the holy place of God. And God spoke. Samuel says, “Here I am.” And he runs to Eli. Poor, old, nearly blind Eli. Samuel thinks that Eli has called him. And in that case, he does what he should. What does Eli need? Eli may not have been very pleased that Samuel had awakened him. Maybe he said, “Go back to sleep, kid, you’re hearing things.” Eli wasn’t expecting God to speak. God had not spoken in so many years. And why would God choose to speak to a child, a child with no experience in receiving or conveying God’s message? More than likely, Eli just wanted to get some rest. And Samuel keeps waking him up.

I wonder if God has ever tried to tell you something. I know that we don’t usually hear an audible voice—at least I haven’t heard an audible voice from God, but there are other ways that God speaks. On Thursday, the News & Observer published a story in the life section about Gail Liston. Liston attends Hayes Barton Baptist Church here in Raleigh. The story was about how Liston felt God’s call to create a tapestry for the new Family Life Center. As Liston tried to come up with an appropriate design for the tapestry, she received God’s revelation for it. The article put it this way:

"Liston’s loom dictated the size. She couldn’t weave anything wider than 46 inches, so she decided on three panels. At first Liston though she might weave three crosses symbolizing the three crosses at Calvary, the site of Jesus’ crucifixion. But as she doodled on a tablet of graph paper she felt at cross—even one stretched across three canvases—wasn’t enough. One night, as she was sitting at the drafting table, her eyes wandered to a heart she had woven on a copper wire and had given to her husband on Valentine’s Day years ago. “Oh, my God,” she though. “That’s it. It’s a heart. That’s what God is—love.” At church a few Sundays later, a girl sitting beside her was filling out a puzzle in the shape of [a] heart. OK, Liston though, a good sign. Then everyone got up to sing the first hymn: “Joyful, joyful we adore thee; Hearts unfold like flowers before thee.” A second sign. By the time the children’s minister pulled out a heart made of construction paper that went along with the day’s message for the children, she had three signs that her design was on the mark.” (N&O, Thurs. Jan. 29, 2009)

Now you might think it was just a coincidence that all those hearts happened to appear at just that time, but I wouldn’t agree. Liston had her eyes open. She was looking for a revelation from God. I have done that, too. I do it most when I prepare sermons. It is amazing how illustrations will cross my path—like that one about Gail Liston—when I am writing a sermon. When we invite the Holy Spirit—God’s Holy Spirit—to come into our lives and reveal the path we should take or the words we should say or the design we should create, we receive revelation. It takes open eyes and open hearts and an awareness of God.

I am very sure that God speaks to us today. The big question is: are we actively listening?
Once Eli has been awakened by Samuel three times, old, blind Eli finally “sees” that it is God who is calling Samuel. Eli tells Samuel what to say: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” And God reveals a message for Samuel, a prophecy. This is the ordination of one of God’s prophets—this young boy in the presence of God.

I am always so blessed to see the children of this church participate in our worship time. When G___ plays the piano, when R___ reads scripture, when our youth lead us as they did a few weeks ago, and when S___ preached, it is a blessing to me. That is what worship is about; we all have gifts to bring. By letting our children participate, we are helping them to see that every part of our congregation is valued. When our pastor himself does the children’s message, it is even better because he is demonstrating that he is the pastor to the children as well as to the adults.
Now I will admit that I am a bit biased about children and how the church ministers to children. I have taken quite a few classes about preschool and children’s ministry. But I can look back to my own childhood, too. I know when I was valued in my church. I know from my mother and father’s example that church was important. I know when teachers took the time to value me. I also see times when ministry to children wasn’t valued. In our congregations, the children do not have a voice, but they are the future. Without children and ministry to children, a church cannot grow.

After all, there are bible stories besides this story about Samuel that convey how children are used by God. There is the story of Naaman’s wife’s servant girl who directs Naaman, diseased by leprosy, to the prophet Elisha to be cured. There is the story of David who takes five stones and kills Goliath, a Philistine giant who had been terrorizing the Israelites. There is the story of the girl Miriam who sees her brother Moses being pulled out of the bulrush basket by Pharoah’s daughter, and Miriam speaks to this royal woman and helps her mother have a chance to raise Moses without fear of his death. There is a story of a boy who willingly brings his lunch to Jesus so that 5,000 people may be able to eat. There is a story of a boy, seated in a temple, teaching the religious leaders about God, doing his Father’s business. Look around. Do you see our children and youth here today? God can speak to them even now. Further, God expects us to be like the children—open and receptive to God’s revelation. When the disciples came to Jesus in Matthew chapter 18 and asked him “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus called a little child and placed that child among them and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me” (v. 1-5).

There is more to this story. In God’s revelations to us, there is something that goes beyond the discovery of the revelation. We also must act or share what the revelation is. In the second part of our scripture passage, we have the message that God gives to Samuel. When Samuel heard the message that God sent him, I wonder if he understood it. It was not a message that I would give a child. It was disheartening, a message of doom for Eli and Eli’s sons. In the morning, when Eli asks Samuel what God has said, it is difficult for Samuel to tell Eli the bad news. Eli makes Samuel tell him anyway, and Eli accepts the message. It wasn’t anything new to Eli. In chapter two, an unnamed prophet had told him the same message. I wonder if Eli listened all the more when his own apprentice delivered the same revelation. After all, Eli could always argue with a grown adult delivering the message of doom, but the innocence of the child Samuel is something that Eli could not deny.

And the Lord was with Samuel and let none of Samuel’s words “fall on the ground” or go unheeded. Here is the first prophet. God established the prophetic era in Samuel. Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Jonah, Amos, Micah, John the Baptist, and so many others prophesy about what will happen because of sin, what will happen because of evil, and most importantly what will happen when God breaks into this world to set things right through Jesus. That is the message we need to share. You see, it is not so much that God does reveal things to the ones who seek God, but that the revelation is to be shared. We are called to tell others about God. We each may witness in different ways, but it is still our commission as Christians. To do that, we must make ourselves available to God.

Discerning the message from God and speaking the revelation is our call. Dr. George Mason, pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church in Dallas, TX says:

"This is one of the great tasks of the church in every age, and a key theme in the season of Epiphany. We depend on the same God that spoke from heaven in Jesus' baptism a word of blessing and call to do the same for us. We must help one another recognize the unique call of God to each soul. We only want people to serve by God's design. We want them to find the gifts God has given them and the way to use them best that God has made for them."
(http://day1.org/927-call_answerers)

What is your gift? How can it be used to meet the world’s need?

In the past, I have shared how I struggled to stand up and preach my first sermon to my worship class in divinity school. But it taught me the possibility of being a preacher. I felt the tug at my heart because preparing, writing, and even delivering a sermon gave me energy. I found out that I liked doing it as strange as that may sound to some of you. But I waited for nearly a year before I ever told anyone that it was the way I felt—how I felt about being called to the pastorate. Instead, I started looking for God’s revelation about the call. And I heard it. I heard it in sermons: sermons at school, sermons at my church, even in the sermons of the conservative preacher at my mom’s church—who surely didn’t mean for me to interpret his message that way! I heard it in songs, especially the song we will sing today “Here I Am, Lord.” Often those songs that spoke to me would render me speechless and in tears as I struggled with a difficult revelation that my path to the pastorate would not be easy. Thankfully, I have surrounded myself with supportive people who value God’s revelation.

Theologian Frederick Buechner has written the best quote ever that vocation is where our greatest joy meets the world's greatest need. God is calling you to a vocation of service for God. What is your greatest joy? Where does it meet the world’s need? Like Gail Liston, it may be a special project to inspire the congregation. Like our children participating in worship, it may be the chance to share a talent to help us grow closer to God. Like Samuel, you may have a message that needs to be shared with others. Like me, you may feel an overwhelming pull to the ministry. I will guarantee you one thing: God is calling each and every Christian to act, to serve, to witness. Do you have this passion; do you have this vision? Or are you sitting in a land where the word of the Lord is rare?

That is our challenge today. We need to get to a place were God’s word is not rare. We need to be saturated in the written word of God. We need to hear the message of God in worship, in song, in our church family. The world is counting on you.

What is God calling you to do today? Our church has ministries that need our support. We have a community that is dying to know that someone cares and understands. I challenge you to open your eyes and see that God is calling your name. God is saying, [insert names of people in the congregation here]. What is it that you are supposed to do? When God speaks, we need to answer.

It is my invitation to you to accept that God is calling you. If you have never asked God to be Lord of your life, the invitation is there. If you have never thought about the fact that God is calling you to service, then I invite you to think about how you can be involved in building up God’s kingdom. If you need to make a public decision, I invite you to do so. If you need to become a part of this body of believers, I invite you and welcome you to come forward.

Let us pray.
God, you know our hearts. You know the struggles that we have in this world. You also know that you have called us to be yours. Please help us to accept our call and act upon our call to service. We invite your Holy Spirit to dwell among us and touch our hearts. Help us to know our gifts and be able to find ways to use those gifts to uplift your kingdom. Amen.

Our invitational hymn is “Here I Am, Lord.” It is also my prayer that your eyes will be open and your ears will be in tune to God’s revelation. Please stand as you are able.

The Grace of God

This is a sermon I preached at Millbrook Baptist Church in Raleigh on October 19, 2008. I was filling in for their senior pastor Rev. Andrea Dellinger Jones who I met in the summer of 2008.

The text is from Exodus 33:12-23.

Elsie Bailey was a teacher. Not just any teacher--a good teacher with a passion for helping her students to learn. On the first day of a class, Ms. Bailey stood before her students and helped them create a list of rules by which to run their class. Raise your hand before speaking. No passing notes. Keep your hands to yourself. No cheating. You know—those basic rules of respect in a classroom. Then Ms. Bailey made up some rules for herself. She promised to give her students the tools they needed to succeed in the sixth grade. She promised to teach them and give them her best for the school year.

And so, Ms. Bailey and the class would learn and grow together. It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes Ms. Bailey knew when to help a student or two out of a rough spot. When a student hadn’t gotten any sleep because the police were in their home investigating domestic violence, Ms. Bailey allowed homework to be turned in late. When a student couldn’t concentrate because she missed breakfast, Ms. Bailey gave the girl part of her lunch to eat that morning. It was those little things—those acts of grace—that set Ms. Bailey apart. The class kept the rules—they had learned them by heart because they would recite them together every day. Ms. Bailey kept the rules set for herself, too. And both students and teachers had a lot of faith in each other.

One day though, something happened. Some of her students got a copy of a test and figured out all the answers. On test day, everyone in class that day had all the answers, except one boy who had been absent the day before. Suddenly, Ms. Bailey had to confront the class who broke the rule not to cheat. Ms. Bailey took away the field trip that the class had planned because she felt that there had to be some consequence. Things got messy. Parents got upset; they turned up the heat on the principal of the school. The parents knew what a teacher was supposed to do. They weren’t very sure about Ms. Bailey’s methods—after all, no teacher had ever taught quite the way Ms. Bailey did.

Ms. Bailey was frustrated. Part of her wanted to just forget the rules she had made for herself since the students didn’t seem to care about keeping their rules. But that one boy now—he didn’t cheat. Robert was the only one that wasn’t making her upset. Ms. Bailey was going to let him and his mother go on the field trip with her. And she told Robert this plan. However, Robert knew better than to accept such an arrangement. He didn’t want to be singled out. As a student, Robert was kind of shy and often stuttered as the words came. He didn’t have all the right answers, and sometimes he lost his temper with his classmates. But in this situation, Robert was very thoughtful. He found courage to tell Ms. Bailey that he didn’t want to go on the field trip alone. Robert wanted his teacher to remember the rules she had made for herself and forgive the class. Perhaps her saving grace would change the hearts of a class in turmoil. So an extraordinary thing happened—Ms. Bailey changed her mind. The class and Ms. Bailey wrote the rules down again, and some peace was made with the teacher, with the students, and with the parents.

In our passage, the Israelites were in a bad situation. After God had led them out of Egypt, they just couldn’t stay on the straight and narrow path. God caused the Egyptians to free the Israelites—this is the redemptive act of the whole Old Testament. They saw God through Moses part the waters of the Red Sea, and they walked through on dry land. How much rejoicing—they were free! Glory be to God, they sang.

God sent manna and quail and eased their hunger. Water came from the rock and quenched their thirst. God told Moses to consecrate the people—the Israelites belonged to God, and God belonged to the Israelites.

Then they messed up.

While Moses goes to Mt. Sinai to receive the rules to live by—not just God’s commandments but also rules for daily living, building the tabernacles and ark, festivals, etc.—the Israelites are down in the valley making an image of a golden calf. The Israelites wanted a god (little g) to go before them—forgetting all about the God (big G) who already went before them as a cloud by day and pillar of fire by night.

As a child, I remember learning about this story of the golden calf and thinking of how the Israelites really blew it. How could they forget the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob so fast? What were they thinking?

But if you know the culture of this time, you know it wasn’t uncommon for people to have those forbidden graven images. The Egyptians did it. The Canaanites. You can almost see God in this passage as a mother figure here—shaking a finger and asking, “If the Egyptians and Canaanites jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?” God intended something special for the Israelites. They were to be God’s chosen people. There was a covenant.

Covenant. It is not something we understand very easily. The obvious example we have in our personal lives is a marriage covenant. Two people pledge to be a family through better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health…. Yet people do change and marriage covenants get broken. No. It is difficult for us to understand this covenant between God and the Israelites. This covenant was a collective covenant—made with a community, not between individuals. The Israelites were born into it. They didn’t have to accept God and be inducted or baptized—their very births gave them a special place in Gods’ kingdom. And at this place with Moses on the mountain, the Israelites at the bottom of the mountain almost lost the covenant God had made with them.

God wanted to start over and let Moses be the one, the only one, who has a covenant with God. But Moses didn’t accept that. He probably knew about his history all too well from the stories his mother told him. While sitting in her lap, do you think Moses’ mother told him of how Abraham left his people to go to a land that God would show him? Did Moses and his mother ever look at the stars and talk about how the Hebrews had flourished in Egypt because they were Abraham’s descendents? I bet Moses knew his family history. There were even some stories of failure—when anger, fear, or doubts clouded the judgment of those same ancestors. And so, on this mountain, Moses, the man who met God in a burning bush and told God that he wasn’t eloquent enough to speak to Pharaoh, Moses speaks to God in this Exodus passage of our Old Testament lesson. And a most extraordinary thing happens—God’s mind is changed. Moses convinces God not to give up on the Israelites. And God listens and agrees to renew his covenant with the Israelites.

God is pleased with Moses and allows Moses to see the glory of God in the end of the passage. What is this glory? It is forgiveness. It is grace through the renewal of the covenant. And all this is written on God’s face. Faces are funny things. Even when we lie about how we are feeling—“how are you today?” “fine”—we can still sometimes look at someone’s face and know the truth because many people are expressive. Yes, some people do put up masks; but you know that when they are most genuine, their expressions will be on their faces. My three year old son has a speech delay and goes to a speech therapist to help him work on his communication skills, yet he is the most expressive child with his facial gestures. He has learned some impressive vocabulary words thanks to the show WordGirl on PBS. The words are flabbergasted, glum, and pensive. He can’t tell me the meaning of these words—he doesn’t speak in sentences yet—but he can show me with his face. Flabbergasted. Glum. Pensive. Father Joseph Hallit explains that “In effect, the face is the meeting point of the person. It is the person. It is at once that which sees and that which is seen…. God…sees, He foresees, He provides. The glance of God is tied to His creative Word right from the beginning of Scripture. The divine Word creates. His face looks and sees that it is good, that it is beautiful.”[1] And the Psalms are full of references to God’s face. The psalmist writes, “My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face!’ Your face, Lord, I will seek. Do not hide your face from me” (27:8-9b). Yet no one could see the face of God and live. That is why Moses only sees God’s back. Sin prevents us from looking at God face-to-face.

It has been a few years since I have seen The Wizard of Oz, so my memory may not be the best at recalling it. But I remember watching it as a child knowing that the goal of Dorothy and her friends was to see the wizard. You remember what he is like when they first see him, right? A giant, smoky head bellowing commands. Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and especially the Cowardly Lion are all very afraid. You know how the real wizard in the movie is revealed at the end? It is his back that is seen first. And when you see his back, things aren’t quite as frightening. I’m not suggesting that the Wizard is like God, but there is a big difference in seeing someone’s face and seeing someone’s back. Personally, I wonder how the Psalmist could ask to see God’s face. I think we would be a lot like the Cowardly Lion, turning tail and running and crashing through a window to get away.

There are other things to remember as you approach this Old Testament text. We need to remember the intended audience. While the stories of the Torah—the first five books of the Old Testament—were oral for many years, by the time of the Babylonian exile the stories were in danger of being forgotten. God’s chosen people had been scattered. Synagogues had been formed as schools to help the people remember and to teach the children. And the stories were written down. And as they were written, the scribe could not help but interpret the old stories according to the current circumstance of being in exile.

If we look at this passage of scripture as a Jew in exile, we know that the nations of Israel and Judah failed. While they were prosperous for a while, corruption and disobedience to God had entered the nation. They were conquered just like the prophets said would happen. Never to see their homeland again, many Jews still wanted to follow God. This story of Moses and the changing of God’s mind probably gave them a lot of hope. After all, they wanted an end to the exile, and God’s mind could be changed—it had happened before. Who really knew what these Jews in exile were thinking as they read the newly written story of Moses on the mountain? We can only speculate. Did these people seek God’s face? Did they yearn for a renewal of the covenant even then when they were so far away from home?

As Christians, we can take this Scripture one step further. We have the example of the son of God, Jesus. Jesus’ face was seen. Since he was the incarnate God, it was possible to see his face. Now what are you thinking about when I talk about the face of Jesus? Is it that picture you’ve seen of the white-skinned Jesus with flowing hair looking slightly up toward heaven. Perhaps a halo of light behind his head. Without getting into a discussion on the features of that picture, I would ask you to picture the qualities of this Jesus instead. I imagine that Jesus had pleasant features that conveyed hope and peace to all he met. I even believe that the people Jesus met came away from the meeting with changed lives as well; they had seen the glory of God in Christ Jesus—and those stories are in this book, too.

One story in particular is the story of the transfiguration. You know the story. It is the one where “Jesus takes his disciples Peter, James, and John up on Mount Tabor to pray. While there the disciples are not expecting to glimpse the mystery of the Incarnation. How many times had these disciples prayed with Jesus in the months or years they followed him? Dozens? Hundreds? And never before had the appearance of his face changed or his clothes become dazzling white. Never before had Moses and Elijah appeared with him in glory. So it is hardly surprising that Peter, James, and John are half-asleep as Jesus prays through the night. Only when they fully awaken do they come face to face with mystery: they see Jesus in his glory, a glory that is his from before time, but which has been veiled from their sight until this moment, when they finally see him as he truly is…. [The disciples] know that the cloud signals the presence of God, and they know that no one can look on God and live. It is not simply because we are sinful and God is holy. No, it is because God is Real, and our finite minds can neither comprehend nor our frail bodies bear the eternity and majesty—the utter real-ness—of God.”[2]

God’s covenant was made real for us in the sacrifice of Jesus. As Christians, we believe that God will abide in those who accept Jesus as Savior. If we were to actually see the face of God, we would have no choice but to follow God. Instead God has given us free will and a choice to make concerning who we will follow. That choice to follow Jesus is our covenant. Once we choose to follow Jesus, we have the promise that God will never leave or forsake us. Just as Moses interceded for the Israelites, Jesus is our intercessor—he goes to God on our behalf. All of our sins can be forgiven, and we can have new life and a new promise of eternity.

While on this earth, we seek God. We can even say that we seek God’s face. Despite our sin, we know that there is a longing for more, a longing for God that exists. To the one battling depression who wonders if there is any hope out there, to the one going through a painful separation from a husband or wife, to the one who is insecure about whether he or she will be employed in the coming weeks, to the one who is worried about that bully at school—all these people and others like them are trying to make sense of their reality. When we turn to our Church, when we turn to the Scripture, we are like the psalmist calling out to God. We are the ones who want to remember Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount—“blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matt. 5:8).

In the Chronicles of Narnia series of books by C.S. Lewis, there are some really good stories that are told. Lewis first and foremost wrote the stories to stand as they are; but if you have encountered them—through reading or through the couple of movies that are out—you know that the Christian story is also being told. Aslan, the character in the story that represents Christ, is the focus of all of the stories. At some point in each one of the seven books, different characters must meet Aslan face-to-face. Every single time, they have their fears. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, there is a scene where the Beavers are telling the Penvensie children that they must go and see Aslan. Mr. Beaver says, “You’ll understand when you see him.”

“But shall we see him?” asked Susan.

“Why, Daughter of Eve, that’s what I brought you here for. I’m to lead you where you shall meet him,” said Mr. Beaver.

“Is—is he a man?” asked Lucy.

“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”

“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t’ safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

“I’m longing to see him,” said Peter, “even if I do feel frightened when it comes to the point.”

And the children in the story are frightened when they see Aslan face-to-face. I have read these stories to my boys several times in the past few years. And I was trying to think if there was a time in the seven books that the ones meeting Aslan were not afraid. And I don’t think that there is a place where one of the characters isn’t worried about that meeting. It is a serious thing to look on that face. To know that we are known by God—all of our shortcomings are there before us.

Where does that leave us today? As a body of believers in Christ, we know a truth about God that we need to share. For all of this talk about the face of God is really about the grace and forgiveness that God offers to all of us. God wants to make a covenant with you. The rules are in this book, in the Bible. We are called to follow Jesus and live our lives by the things Jesus said. And in that covenant, God offers the same free gift of grace that God offered when he renewed his covenant with the Israelites so long ago. There are rules we must keep and there is a promise given to us that one day we will see God face-to-face. Look in your heart. Is God trying to make this covenant with you?

In the baptist church today, there is a time of response. You know what is going on in your hearts. Sometimes our responses are private, and sometimes they are to be made public. As we sing our hymn of response “God of Grace and God of Glory,” I invited you to continue to respond. If there is someone who needs to make a public profession of faith or to renew his or her covenant with God, you can do so at this time. If someone would like to unite with this church to help him or her be accountable to the covenant, they may come forward as well. The invitation is to all of us though. God knows our hearts even as we seek to look upon God’s face.

Please stand as you are able and join with me in singing hymn number 420—“God of Grace and God of Glory.”

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[1] http://www.melkite.org/OES-FaceofGod.htm

[2] “Waking to Mystery” by Kimberlee Conway Ireton in Weavings: A Journal of the Christian Spiritual Life. Vol 21, No. 1, Jan/Feb 2006.