God's Light Reveals and Renews

Romans 5:8-14; 1 Samuel 16:1-13; John 9:1-17, 35-41

A book entitled The Benedict Option was recently published. The author, Rod Dreher, is a blogger for the American Conservative. The assertion he makes in his book is that anti-Christian forces and values in America have become victorious to the point that many Christian institutions have ceased living by distinctively Christian values, and those which still do feel relegated to the social margins or even persecuted.

The book’s title comes from St. Benedict (active in the first half of the sixth century C.E.), and his invention of monastic communities, which were places where Christians could be more deliberately and deeply formed by their faith. He and his communities are credited with saving Western civilization during dark times. Dreher is calling for Christians to withdraw from political engagement with the world, become more internally focused on spiritual formation by creating deeply Christian institutions, and then re-engage the world through better and more sophisticated as well as more persuasive strategies.(1)

One of the philosophical points underlying Dreher’s thought process is a dualism that goes back to ancient Greek philosophical dialogues predating Christ, Paul, and the early church and which were prevalent in the century following the Pentecost birthing of the church: light and darkness, good and evil. This dualism is found in the apocalyptic – end times – writings of the inter-testamental period between the last written Old Testament writing (possibly Daniel) and the earliest Christian writing, mostly letters from Paul to the churches in Asia Minor.

This dualism of light and darkness was also prominent in the writings of the Essenes, a cloistered, eclectic sect active when the Ephesian letter author was active. The Essenes considered themselves the elite heirs of an advanced, esoteric knowledge that could flood our inner darkness with the light of awakened consciousness. 

The Essenes’ way of engaging the forces of darkness consisted mainly in huddling in secluded safety to translate life’s mysteries into useful knowledge.(2)  They pursued their calling far from the centers of public life, living in the wilderness wastelands around the Dead Sea. They are most noted for their preservation of canonical scriptural texts, such as Isaiah, and non-canonical texts such as “The Community Rule” and “The War Scroll.” Since the first discovery in 1946/47, fragments of nearly 1,000 manuscripts have been found hidden in 12 caves, with the most recent just this year.

The problem with the separation approach to faith, in the understanding of theologian Marcus Borg, is that small orthodox communities find it difficult to be faithful, since so many have a history of becoming preoccupied with tribal issues of us-versus-them while ignoring the very heart of Christianity, which is compassion for the least of the brothers and sisters.(3)

Separation from the world was the last thing the writer to the Ephesians was interested in. He calls for his followers to take to the streets in the fight with the minions of darkness. While there can be no doubt that the writer shares the Essenes’ call for separation from the “sons of darkness,” he charges his readers to storm the ramparts of darkness as moral agents in the world: “Don’t participate in the unfruitful actions of darkness. Instead you should reveal the truth about them.”

Revealing the truth about darkness is easier said than done. And it is a thankless task. Crucifixion comes to mind. This Lenten journey which we have been on since leaving the mountain of the transfiguration has descended from the realm of divine glory into the realm of where darkness increasingly smothers light. The omitted verses from the ninth chapter of John highlight the growing boldness and stubbornness of the religious leaders to the teaching and ministry of Jesus. The man healed of his blindness and his parents were subjected to terrorizing interrogation at the hands of the temple leaders. 

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

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

They responded, “You were born completely in sin! How is it that you dare to teach us?” Then they expelled him. (John 9:28-34)

With that exchange another nail was crafted for the waiting cross. None of us has the strength of will-power or the gumption to risk everything to halt the smithy crafting those nails. In the midst of our personal struggles and the daily reports of global terrorism, mounting drug deaths, the growing gap between the have-nots and the haves, the resurgence of economic jingoism, racism, and sectarian hatred, and the existence of outright political intransigence, there is nothing to contradict the reality that we humans, in spite of our professed ethics and ideals, consistently lack the moral muscle to hold back, much less overcome, the forces of evil.

That’s the reality which our Pauline author comes out swinging against. This passage is bookended with grace. Verse 8 opens the reading with a triumphal declaration: “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” The phrase, “in the Lord,” is an early church watchword for “in the risen Christ.” The author proclaims an awesome fact: in our mystic union with the living Christ we are aglow with Christ’s light. Such a glow is more than inspired intellectual keenness. This light also carries the spiritual energy that can empower us in our struggle with the forces of evil.

If the first half of verse 8 is the prelude of grace for our passage, then verses 13-14 similarly provide a triumphal postlude of God's favor:

Everything exposed to the light is revealed by the light. Everything that is revealed by the light is light. Therefore it says, ‘Wake up, sleeper! Get up from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.'

Here the writer gives a trumpet fanfare to the fact that God’s light both reveals and renews, exposing what is in the dark, while also changing into light what it exposes. The “Wake up, sleeper” citation is very likely part of a hymn from an early church baptismal ritual. It caps the passage with a celebratory declaration that locates the light in Christ. This light, which both reveals and renews, is in fact the risen Christ. We awake and rise up from spiritual death, as if emerging from baptismal waters, to stand renewed by and pervaded with Christ’s light.(4)

The apostle writes, “Light produces fruit that consists of every sort of goodness, justice, and truth.” Since the passage has grace at its beginning and grace at its ending, this phrase tucked into the middle is a clarion call to live out the grace that has been bestowed on us. In the words of Don Wardlaw, emeritus professor of preaching at the Presbyterian McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago, “Grace turns the imperative of what we ought to do into the indicative of what we may do.”(5)

Most of us are all too aware of the formidable powers of darkness. What you and I most need, as bearers of Christ's light, are glimpses of our possibilities for exposing the works of that darkness. We need broad brushstrokes of things that bring to life Christ’s aglow in each of us. 

• Perhaps that is writing letters to our senators and congressman by hand (the staff actually has to read them) about issues where light is being obscured by darkness, where human dignity is abused rather than uplifted. 
• Perhaps we can shine Christ’s light by calling out a person for a racial or ethnic slur. 
• Another possible revealing and renewing light is shed when we write letters to the editors of newspapers pointing out inaccuracies in public perceptions of individuals or groups of people tossed to the margins or about mistaken understandings of faith. 
• We can also shine Christ’s light by standing with and for people caught in the cogs of dehumanizing social systems by being advocates or sponsors or simply friends. 

As Jesus said, our activities to feed the hungry, to shelter the homeless, to visit the sick and imprisoned, to care for widows and widowers, orphans and children in single-parent homes, and immigrants are done not just to and for them, the activities are done to and for Christ. 

Your imagination, your relationships, your contexts will help describe and prescribe what it looks and feels like to live in the chemistry of God’s transforming light. That light in us who are in the risen Lord can and will reveal and renew.


(1) Michael Maudlin, senior vice-president and executive editor, HarperOne, “News and Pews,” March 20, 2017; http://www.newsandpews.com/the-borg-option-v-the-benedict-option/
(2) Don Wardlaw, "Ephesians 5:8-14: Homileticial Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), Year A, vol. 2, 111-115.
(3) Maudlin, op.cit.
(4) Ibid.
(5) Ibid.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

Do Power and Glory Mix?

Psalm 2; 1 Peter 1:16-23; Matthew 17:1-9

We say these words often. Once a week. Once a day. Perhaps more often than that.

“Thine is the power and the glory forever.”

You recognize them. These are the closing words of the Lord’s Prayer. We will be saying them soon, at the end of the Great Thanksgiving prayer of the communion liturgy. 

The Power and the Glory is the title of a 1940 novel by the British author Graham Greene. Like the American author Flannery O’Connor, Greene objected strongly to being described as a Roman Catholic novelist, rather than as a novelist who happened to be Catholic. Nevertheless Catholic religious themes are at the root of his writing, especially the four major Catholic novels, of which The Power and Glory is one.

Nick Ripatrazone wrote in the February 2016 Atlantic that Greene’s book is a”violent, raw novel about suffering, strained faith, and ultimate redemption.”(1) The book’s hero is an unnamed priest on the run from Mexican authorities after a state governor has ordered the military to dismantle all vestiges of the religion. Churches are burned. Relics, medals, and crosses are banned. The price for disobedience is death. While many clerics give up their beliefs and accept their government pensions, the unnamed priest travels in secret, celebrating Mass and hearing confessions under the cover of night. Yet he’s also a gluttonous, stubborn, and angry man drowning in vices, and the religious ambition of his earlier years has been replaced with a constant desire to drink, hence Greene’s term for him: the “whiskey priest.” Tired of risking his life, the priest even prays to be caught.

The tension between the priest’s calling and his humanity, between his desire to flout the uncivil worldly authority with the authority of God and his human desire to ultimately succumb to it catches many of the themes of the Transfiguration as witnessed to and responded to by three of Jesus’ disciples. On the mountain God confirms Jesus as the one called to bear grace and reconciling love to a broken, unneighborly, and unloving world wracked with conceit, greed, and unbelief. The disciples continue to misconstrue Jesus’ ministry by wanting to enshrine him with two great leaders of the past. However, Jesus takes them with him down the mountain and into the thick of the ministry which will confirm the world’s denial of him in its sordid attempt to shut out the Light of the world. Yet God will affirm the power and glory of that Light when it bursts forth from the tomb three days later.

Psalm 2 is one of several royal psalms that celebrate the anointing of God’s chosen king. It may have been for a human king or it may be for the promised Messiah. Christians have historically read this text through a messianic lens. On the surface, the psalm warns the rulers of the earth who have placed themselves in opposition to God and God’s people. 

In the context of the Transfiguration Psalm 2 takes on additional meaning. Besides Jesus’ experience on the mountain, we also remember the Exodus account of the experience of Moses on Mount Sinai. Both events are instances of God putting the divine stamp of approval on the missions which will be going forward.

The obvious parallel between Psalm 2 and the Gospel story of the transfiguration is that both describe God’s anointing of a chosen one. The psalmist identifies the king as anointed, declaring, “You are my son, today I have become your father.” The story of the transfiguration echoes these words, as God’s voice booms through the clouds and names Jesus as the son whom God dearly loves.

Psalm 2 envisions God’s chosen king as a powerful military leader, who is ready – and able with God’s help – to conquer the nations of the earth. This is the dominant image of the expected Messiah which is recorded in Hebrew Scripture. With only a few exceptions, this vision of leadership is most prevalent in the rule of the Israelite kings. This is the Messiah for whom the Israelites and their descendants longed.

Except that this is not the mantle of leadership which Jesus took up. He would not become the type of Messiah that Israel anticipated. Like Frost’s traveler at the fork of woodland paths, Jesus “took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.” Time and again, Jesus rejects the job description of a powerful, militaristic Messiah. 

We see this most notably in the report of the temptation of Jesus, a temptation that this psalm almost foreshadows. In the psalm God promises to grant  the king “the far corners of the earth” as his  property as well as power over the nations. Compare that idea to the dramatic scene from Luke’s temptation account, where the devil shows Jesus the kingdoms of the world and suggests that they could all be his (Luke 4:5-7). You can almost see the devil’s sinister smile as he makes this offer. The irony is that in the psalm it is God who laughs at the feeble rulers of the nations.

Jesus has come to reveal a different kind of royal leadership and a kingdom with a different mission and purpose. The kingdom that Jesus leads is not defined by power and might, but by humility and servanthood. That is also the message of the story of the transfiguration. Jesus sets the tone of all he has done and all he will continue to do in the limited number of days ahead. His mission is not about earthly glory. He does not stay long on the holy mountain, basking in radiance, as his disciples think he ought to do. Instead, he leads the disciples back down the mountain. Jesus knows that his throne is not of this world and that his true glory will be revealed on the cross.

It is true news: Jesus does indeed become a king on a holy hill, but it is the hill of Golgotha, not Zion. When that coronation happens, Jesus is clothed in shame, not in splendor. We don’t hear God laughing in derision; the mockers are the crowds and the executioners surrounding Jesus. The anointed one is crucified and all the expectations of an all-powerful Messiah are overturned.

Human expectations are upended and reversed. That is a key element of the scriptural narrative. It doesn’t make sense, it is counterintuitive. The people of Jesus’ day couldn’t understand it, and we aren’t a whole lot better at it today. You and I spend enormous amounts of time and energy in pursuit of success, esteem, power, control, and all the things that go along with them. We don’t know how to define our earthly kingdoms in any other way. Our minds are boggled by the concept that Jesus’ life and mission are defined by relinquishing power and by traveling a sacrificial journey toward death. 

We confess and somehow believe that God acted in Jesus to overcome death with life. In his journey toward the cross, Jesus, the unexpected Messiah, reveals a kingdom more eternal and more powerful than any the world has known. The power of the world and the glory of God reconciling the world in Christ don’t mix.

Among twentieth-century Christian writers, Mennonite theologian John Howard Yoder stands out in his analysis of this unexpected kingdom and its lessons for us. In The Politics of Jesus Yoder demonstrates how Jesus defies the traditional expectations of the Messiah and forges a different kind of kingdom, the kingdom of God. This kingdom does not depend on military might or economic prowess, but rather is made known through concern for the poor, justice for the oppressed, love for friends and enemies alike. The kingdom that Jesus leads builds doors instead of walls, welcomes rather than bans, loves rather than despises, affirms rather than debases, seeks the truth rather than revels in falsehood. 

In the kingdom over which Jesus is Lord, he introduces a new social ethic. Jesus forsakes the quest for power and control and doubles down in a commitment to servanthood and sacrifice. It is truly an upside-down kingdom, where the last shall be first, and where suffering and death lie unavoidably on the path toward joy and lasting life. Jesus is transfigured and messiahship is transformed.

Now that the Light of the world is so revealed that the power structures of the world must seek to envelope it in darkness we are at a decision point. Which type of Messiah will we follow: the one dependent on brute force and oppression or the one that turns the other cheek and goes the additional mile? Which kind of kingdom will we give our allegiance to: the one that squeezes power out of every last individual or the one that promotes compassion, forgiveness, and love? 

May we lessen our thirst for power and open ourselves to God’s grace in Christ lavished upon us by the Spirit.


General Resource: Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010) Year A, Volume 1, 441-445.

(1) “Revisiting The Power and the Glory During Lent,” Atlantic, February 2016. http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/02/the-power-and-the-glory-lent-graham-greene/461820/

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.

Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

What Darkness

Matthew 5:13-20; Isaiah 58:1-9a; 1 Corinthians 2:1-12


The title of today’s proclamation is a two-word statement, or since it lacks a verb, a two-word sentence fragment. There is no punctuation mark at the end. Without a verb it can’t be a declarative statement. Perhaps the verb is understood: “What darkness [there is],” making this a flat statement. In a Progressive Insurance commercial Flo tries to say unemotionally that people could save 15% or more with Progressive. She fails and has to correct herself with a monotone, “Woohoo.”

There are two possible punctuation marks that can end this sentence fragment.

The first is the exclamation point, “What darkness!” That’s the one for people who look on the world and all they see is darkness, evil, sin, terrorism, war, poverty, hatred, oppression, crime, injustice, drug addiction, shoddy workmanship, price gouging, alcoholism, falsehood, greed, egotism, etc. The list is never-ending and each of us could add our pet world ill to the list. The darkness of the exclamation point is pervasive, total, complete, all-encompassing.

Have you ever gone to an underground cavern? Paula and I took our children to the Ohio Caverns near Bellefontaine. We descended into the cave. The steps and path were well-lighted. Halfway into the tour, the guide turned out all the lights and gave us an experience of total darkness, darkness into which no light intruded, no matter how long we might wait to let our eyes adjust. Such is the darkness of the world as seen by those who would use an exclamation point and say, “What darkness!”

The other option for punctuation is the question mark. “What darkness?” Those who use the question mark ask, “What darkness? I don’t see any darkness.” The thrust of this punctuation is totally different. Rather than looking for dark clouds to blot out silver linings, these people choose to look for the silver linings; indeed they create silver linings for dark clouds. For them the Light of the world, Christ, left the world at his ascension and entrusted the illumination of the gospel to lesser lights, Christians, you and me.

The Heidelberg Catechism, one of the confessions of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), asks this question: “Isn’t Christ with us until the end of the world as he promised us?” The answer is, “Christ is true human and true God. In his human nature Christ is not now on earth; but in his divinity, majesty, grace, and Spirit he is never absent from us.” There is light and it is not now – nor ever will be – extinguished.

Our world is crying for light. In the darkness we grope for truth, for meaning, and for purpose in life. As Christians we are the means by which the only true light for the world can shine today. If we are true to the calling Christ gave us, we have to proclaim with John that the light came into the world and the very darkness itself was wiped out. Things appear very pale as we peer into the seemingly chronic dimness, but the light shines unceasingly. Because of our belief in Christ, we will choose the question mark and say, “What darkness? There is no darkness. There is Christ.” We are the light of the world for today..

A Sunday school superintendent, named Mark, tells about greeting a new family at church, mom, dad, and three daughters. The youngest girl was five-year old Sarah. Mark told her how glad he was that Sarah had come to the Sunday school that morning. Sarah up and kicked him in the shin – hard. Mark thought, “This is a fine way to begin our friendship.” But he resolved to be kind to her.

The next Sunday Mark welcomed Sarah with determined friendliness, and she kicked him in the shin – hard and twice. He wasn’t sure if they were going to be friends or not, but he decided to keep trying.

One Sunday Mark sat in church and noticed that Sarah and her family were sitting at the other end of the pew. Sarah was closest to him and soon she slid over to where he was and snuggled up him. Suddenly she looked up and said, “Mr. Mark, I hate you.” “I know,” he said. He thought to himself that at least it was better than getting kicked in the shin.

Time passed. One Sunday he went to the kindergarten room. The children were all seated in a circle listening to a Bible story. Mark tiptoed in, got a tiny chair, and sat down at the edge of the circle. Pretty soon a little boy stood up and came and sat on his knee. Sarah then came and sat on the other knee. She didn’t say anything or look at Mark. But she did reach out and took his hand. He thought, “Maybe this will work out after all.”

And it did. Now when they meet Sarah runs to him and throws her arms around him and he gives her a big hug.

In a humorous but very graphic way, this story illustrates the two basic conditions of people in God’s kingdom on earth. There are those, like Sarah, who want the light of love more than anything. They hunger for it, reach out for it, and are drawn to those who offer it to us. They may be 5 years or 55 years old and still inside they’re like Sarah. They desire to be held and loved, no matter how many times they’ve kicked people in the shins. You see, the kicking is part of the human condition. It’s a test to sift out the people who offer the light with their mouths but who go away when they get kicked in the shins. Then Sarah can say, “See, I told you they don’t really love me.” Has anyone you’ve tried to love ever said to you, “You don’t really love me,” as a challenge to prove it?

There are many Sarahs in our lives.

The second kind of person in God’s kingdom is typified by the Sunday school superintendent. They are Light Givers, ones who know that the light of Christ’s love is stronger than any darkness the shin-kickers can offer; Light Givers, one who know in their hearts that the reason Sarahs kick is because they are desperately in need of Christ’s love. The Sarahs will seldom admit their need. It takes the eyes of faith to perceive the darkness. Our Lord identified the eyes as the light of the body. If you are a Sarah and your body is filled with darkness you will see another Sarah as a nasty brat. If your eyes are sound and you are filled with Christ’s light, you will seek out darkness and its need for love.

The difference between the Sarahs and the Light Givers is expressed in secular terms through a parable you may be familiar with:

Once upon a time there was a frog. But he wasn’t really a frog. He was a prince who looked and felt like a frog. A wicked witch had cast a spell on him and only the kiss of a beautiful maiden could save him. But no one wanted to kiss this frog. So there he sat – an unkissed prince in frog form. One day a beautiful maiden came along and gave this frog a great big smooch. Crash – Boom – Zap! There he was – a handsome, dashing prince. (And you know the rest – they lived happily ever after.)

So what is the task of the church?

To kiss frogs, of course. Our Lord addresses his command in today’s gospel to those who have received the light. He gives us a specific guideline for being light for others.

People do not “light a lamp and put it under a basket.” Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house.” It is assumed by the lighting of a lamp that there is darkness. As Light Givers, whenever we are aware of darkness around us, we are to go into the middle of it (like the lampstand) and shine the Light of Christ.

This is not our nature. Consider the darkness of depression. If you had an hour to visit someone and you had two choices – Bill who is always cheery and positive or Marie who is so depressed that all she can talk about is the pit she sees herself in – what is your natural choice? For most of us, we would say Bill. Why would we want to talk with someone who is such a downer and brings us low. Yet, where is the need for the lamp?

Unless we are specially trained, we cannot fight the darkness of another’s depression. They will drain positive energy out of us and we will feel totally exhausted. However, if we approach the darkness spiritually, with prayer and total surrender to the power of Christ, he not only supplies us with light which does not drain away, he also supplies the other person with light and love also. It may take a while, but the light can thaw the depression. Thus, the lamp “shines on all who are in the house.”

We all have a Sarah bearing the darkness of depression, irritability, or need. Whatever causes our Sarah to kick our shins, that is the darkness where we are to place our lampstand.

Our Lord does not merely stop here. All of us can share some Light on occasion, but remember Mark. His shins were kicked for quite a while before the Light shining through him could reach and wipe out Sarah’s darkness. Thus Jesus continues, “In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.” The Light Giver is to give the Light of Love through her deeds so that the person will realize it is Christ’s light shining and not merely a passing good deed. And sometimes to accomplish this we may have to sacrifice in order to show the Light.

Two brothers were having some difficulty over a property line. John was very bitter and wrote Alex as follows: “You have cheated and robbed me of what rightfully belongs to me. You know that the row of poplars is the property line. You have no right to build a fence on my side and claim the ground for yourself. I shall sue you and make you pay every dime it is worth.” Alex was a Light Giver. He reply was a living example of Jesus’ second guideline. He said to his brother, “Father’s will said the property was to be equally divided. By survey I have placed the fence where the division comes. However, both of us are in good standing in this community and I do not want our neighbors to think that we are not Christians. Neither of us can use the ground under the poplar trees, for nothing will grow there. If you will meet me with the surveyors I will allow you to place the fence where you want it and we will make a permanent record in the surveyor’s office that you have 126 feet and I have 118 feet. I have no objection if you want more than your half.” Christ’s light shone brightly into John’s darkness. There was not only the light of love but also the light of truth. John was humbled and dropped the matter.

“In the same way let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.”

What darkness? In Christ there is no darkness because he is the Light of the world.


Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 

Copyright © 2017 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.