An Inexhaustible Supply Keeping Us Supplied

2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

A lot of discussion since the Great Recession of 2007 has focused on the 1% and the 99%. One percent of the American population controls somewhere between 80 and 90 percent of the financial assets of the country. None of us is part of the 1% (unless you are hiding it exceedingly well). That means that we belong to the 99%. And since most of us getting by relatively comfortably, the 99% includes a lot of people scraping to get by or not even getting by at all.

If a person working federal minimum wage of $7.35/hr has a full-time, 40 hour/week job, they gross a little over $15,000 a year. And many minimum wage jobs are not full-time. Little wonder Florence has to keep asking for peanut butter and more.

Two years ago the global Swiss bank UBS did a survey of more than 4,000 clients, all of whom had more than $250,000 in the bank and half of whom had more than a million dollars. The chief finding of the survey was that the majority of people with $1 million in assets didn’t consider themselves rich. Forty percent of those with $5 million didn’t think they were rich.

Just how much does it take to be rich? I know that when I was growing up my parents never carried more than a couple $20 bills at a time. Now I get seven or eight out of the ATM every time I go. And it buys about the same. So the definition of rich keeps escalating with the increases in the cost of living index. I get that. Even though it is increasing, where is the threshold between enough and rich?

I like to watch “House Hunters” on the HGTV network. I am aghast at the budgets that people have for housing. They think nothing of signing up for $400-500,000homes. There are a few of those kinds of homes in the Waverly zip code, but they aren’t in the neighborhoods I frequent. Every now and then in my walking I pass a house which I have seen in the weekly listings. Basic Waverly Estates or Heights homes are going for $80-90,000, what I would call a ridiculous price. The insides must be pretty nice, because some of the exteriors and yards leave a great deal to be desired.

In the UBS survey, when responders were asked what it would have to happen for them to think they were rich the leading answer was “no financial constraints on activities.” In other words, “rich” doesn’t happen when you get to the $1, 5, or $10 million level. Rich is when you got more coming in than you could ever hope to spend. Rich is an artesian well of money. It is bottomless and never-ending.

How did it get to be that way? An economist could explain it. I’m not an economist. My only skill is keeping the checkbook out of the red and balanced. However, my powers of observation suggest two possible causes. The first cause is that there is an increasingly growing selection of items to buy as well as more and more opportunities get services rendered in exchange for money.

The second cause has to do particularly with material items. Technology – even of things that aren’t electronic – is advancing faster and faster. The life span of items is getting shorter, because the next generation of the thingamawidget will soon be out with new bells and whistles which people are gullible enough to believe are absolutely necessary. Many things are supplanted rather than worn out.

The upshot is that it takes more and more to get more and more. People are rich only when they have enough to get everything and then some. And we are all caught up in it, whether we have $5 million, $500,000, or $50.

The apostle Paul is also not an economist, but he knows the value of things. As he encourages the Corinthian church to take up the special offering for the mother church in Jerusalem, he tells them, “A gift is appreciated because of what a person can afford, not because of what that person can’t afford, if it’s apparent that it’s done willingly.”

Paul wasn’t a certified financial planner, but he was savvy enough to know that a person shouldn’t measure his or her financial status by how much he or she doesn’t have or by how much others do have. Paul may have been talking about money, but he was not trying to be the Dave Ramsey of the ancient world. In fact, money was just an entry point into his real topic: the generous grace of God. As the New Covenant Church sign board recently posted, “Grace is what we receive, not what we achieve.”

Paul mentioned the Macedonian church as an example but not as a financial yardstick. He doesn’t want the Corinthians to trying to outdo the Macedonians. He doesn’t give out the total amount collected, or the average gift. It doesn’t matter. It is not a competition. Paul doesn’t want the Corinthian believers trying to compare themselves to any other church and then feel good or bad about it.

Paul wants the Corinthians to focus on one thing and one thing only: Jesus Christ the head of the whole church. “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.” Christ left the glories of heaven in order to spend time as the Human One, fully God and fully human, in the midst of our human goings and comings. He did it for one thing and one thing only, that we might come into the richness of faith.

There’s something that you won’t find in a bank book, on a chart of accounts, or on a balance sheet. You won’t find it on an insurance inventory. Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied with no end in sight.

Most of us say that we will save more when we have more. Or we will give away more when we get more. When we have a surplus, we will do something with it. But waiting for a surplus is not a good approach. Surpluses rarely happen. They are created with care and attention to detail.

We already have a surplus when it comes to the grace of Jesus Christ. It is an inexhaustible supply that is keeping us supplied day in and day out, year in and year out. The undercurrent of our age is that we never have enough. The security of life with God is that there is always enough grace and more beside.

That’s the truth to the manna in the wilderness that sustained the Israelites. They always had enough, not too little, not too much. That’s the message of the intertwined healing stories from Mark chapter 5, which were read earlier. Even in the midst of allocating grace to heal the young girl, there was more than enough to heal the hemorrhage of the woman.

Peter Chin hates to shop. Crowded grocery stores are painful. But he needed some chicken stock. Hoping to make a quick getaway, he picked an express lane with only two customers. But things weren’t moving. The couple in front were having trouble with their purchase.

“I pursed my lips and peered around the customer in front of me to catch a glimpse of the couple who had so perfectly sabotaged my exit from this purgatory. I could see little of them except their dark curly hair and ill-kept clothes. Their heads were down as they continued to fiddle with their pocketbook, and the attendant took more canned items off the belt and placed them in a cart next to her. I didn’t really know what was going on, but frankly I didn’t care. They had more than 15 items and shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I had no compassion on people who couldn’t do something as simple as making a purchase at a grocery store. I rolled my eyes as the attendant took their final item off the belt. Finally, the couple shuffled on their way, heads down, their empty shopping bag swinging at their side. All that time, and all for nothing. I shook my head in disbelief, and cast a disapproving look at them as they walked away.” (1)

When Chin’s got to the attendant, he discovered that the cans were baby formula, probably the wrong kind or size for the WIC program voucher, and they didn’t have enough cash to buy one can. Struck by the callousness of his own impatience, Chin ran through the parking lot to find the couple, but to no avail. As he collapsed in his car he felt ashamed. He realized that it wasn’t selfishness that had prevented him from helping this couple feed their baby – he’d have gladly paid for the formula had he been aware of what was happening. No, it wasn’t selfishness; it was, in his words, “enslavement to my own convenience.” With a more generous spirit he could have tried to understand what was happening to the couple ahead of him in line, instead of viewing them as obstacles to his quick departure from the store.

Jesus was not selfish. He was not enslaved to his own convenience. Yes, the woman who touched his clothing was an inconvenience, but he took time for her all the same. The cross was certainly an inconvenience, but it didn’t matter to Jesus. He lavished grace sufficient for everyone. And he still lavishes his grace on everyone. It is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied.

Paul was right on the mark in telling the Corinthians, and, by extension, us, that they needed to measure their generosity not against others, but against Christ, who though “he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.”

Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied. May our wealth be our generosity.

General Resource: Homiletics, May-June 2015, pp. 68-70.
(1) Chin, Peter. “No such thing as convenient Christianity.” Third culture blog, Christianity Today, November 13, 2014.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

Lament

Job 38:1-11; Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; Mark 4:35-41

Simply put, the Book of Job is about tragedy and how people respond to it. Since it has probably been a while since you looked at it, let me give you a brief synopsis.

The book has prologue which sets the scene. Job is depicted as “honest inside and out, a man of his word, who was totally devoted to God, and hated evil with a passion,” in the words of The Message version of the book. He has seven sons and three daughters, and owns seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred pairs of oxen, five hundred female donkeys, and a vast number of servants. To whom today could we compare him? Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, some sheik in Dubai? Perhaps.

One day the divine beings (angels) report to God. God points out Job to one of the divine beings, the Adversary, hassatan in Hebrew, from which we get the word “Satan.” God says, “There is no one like him” (Job1:8). The Adversary says that God has pampered him and protected him. If God were to take it all away, Job “will certainly curse you to your face” (1:11). God accepted the challenge with the proviso that the Adversary not hurt Job himself.

All manner of disasters strike: armies kill his servants and steal the livestock and a tornado tears through the house where the sons and daughters were gathered, killing them all. “In all this, Job didn’t sin or blame God” (Job 1:22).

The Adversary didn’t give up. “If you take away his health, he’ll break.” God said, “Okay, just preserve his life.” Job is best with terrible physical afflictions – sores and ulcers from head to toe. He responds to his personal and physical tragedies with great complaints, but maintains his spiritual integrity (2:10).

Three friends come along a try to pass the time with him, consoling him, counseling him, urging him to find some small sin in his past that is the cause for all his woes. Their empty platitudes are of no help and only intensify the agony Job is living through. They mock him and ultimately become hostile to him, accusing him of hiding his sin. Back and forth they bicker, Job all the while maintaining his righteousness, which becomes more and more self-centered.

A fourth individual had been listening to this banter and jumped in when the three gave up. He was angry with Job because he perceived that Job thought himself more righteous than God. He was also angry at the other three interlocutors because they hadn’t come up with an answer or proved Job wrong.

As the discussion gets more heated, Job wishes he could converse directly with God and get the answers to his questions and tell God a thing or two. The final unhelpful comment given to Job is that God simply is, so don’t ask questions.

Finally God breaks into the conversation out of a whirlwind. God’s comments start with today’s reading.

So for the first 37 chapters we see that tragedies happen and that people respond in a variety of ways: with ignorance, with platitudes, with recriminations and guilt-tripping, with arrogance, with anger, and with lament.

Soong-Chan Rah has been studying the necessity of lament in American society. Friday he wrote on the Sojourners magazine blog that lament is difficult for Americans because we tend towards triumphalism and exceptionalism.

“Triumphalism means that when we are confronted with suffering, we opt for quick fix-it solutions. Triumphalism means that we avoid the topic of race because it makes us uncomfortable and we want to resume our pursuit of the American dream uninterrupted by an awareness of systemic injustice that allows for the perpetuation of that dream. Exceptionalism allows us to claim that there is no such thing as implicit bias. After all, in an exceptional nation, we are all equal and we all have equal opportunity in an exceptional economic and political system.” (1)

He goes on to says that “Under the narrative of triumphalism and exceptionalism, we continue to weave a web of lies that creates a society where a terrorist act in Charleston, SC, can be just another news item. Lament interrupts the narrative of triumphalism and exceptionalism.”

There is an aura of triumphalism and exceptionalism in the discourse that Job is finally driven to in demanding that God be accountable to him for what has happened. If Job laments, it is because God has not supplied an adequate explanation. And certainly his so-called comforters have given him nothing other than salt for his wounds to his way of thinking.

Soong-Chan Rah points out that the opening two chapters of the book of Lamentations is “a funeral dirge in response to an unspeakable tragedy.” God’s chosen people have experienced an unspeakable tragedy of being invaded, overpowered, subjugated, killed off and exiled. The only people that remain are those who were already at the margins of society: widows, orphans, toddlers, senior citizens, the infirm and disabled. There is no hope, as is usually the case in the psalms of lament. In the Lamentation funeral dirge there is a dead body — of a nation, of an ideal, of a dream — and it is front and center. It cannot be avoided.

Soong-Chan Rah continues:

“When we lament alongside the grieving in South Carolina, we have to acknowledge that our nation’s history is littered with dead bodies. Dead bodies on slave ships of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. Dead bodies on the Trail of Tears as civilizations and people were wiped out. Dead bodies of four little girls and young black men. And now nine dead bodies in a church. We must deal with the dead bodies in the room with a funeral dirge.”

Lament is not a passive act. It is subversive, it is an act of protest. It is subversive because when the self-righteous call out for punishment and the death penalty, the family members of the nine people killed in the Mother Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston offer forgiveness in Christ, much as the Amish community in Lancaster County, PA, did several years ago when an individual sprayed a school room with gunfire killing a number of children.

“You took something very precious from me, but I forgive you,” Ethel Lance’s daughter said through tears. “It hurts me. You hurt a lot of people, but may God forgive you.” Speaking of her son Tywanza Sanders, who was killed trying to shield his great aunt from gunfire, Felicia Sanders said to the suspect: “We welcomed you Wednesday night in our Bible study with open arms. You have killed some of the most beautifullest people that I know. Every fiber in my body hurts. I will never be the same.” Alanna Simmons, the granddaughter of 74-year-old retired pastor Daniel Simmons, declared, “Although my grandfather and the other victims died at the hands of hate, this is proof that they lived and loved. Hate won’t win.”(2)

Lament is an act of protest because the marginalized need to be heard. The voiceless speak through lament. They cry out that things aren’t right, aren’t the way things are supposed to be. Lament voices the prayers of the suffering and therefore serves as an act of protest against the principalities and powers that have individuals and their social orders – spiritual, political, economic – in a headlock.

This obviously is not the sermon I had planned to write on the Job reading. Yet the Spirit has a way of knowing what is needed. It surely is a God-activity that the gospel reading is about the storm. We are living in stormy times. In the midst of gun violence, racism, and the widening economic gap between the many with the least and the few with the most, we are in a perfect storm. The boat of life is being tossed every which way. It feels like it about to be swamped, and we are afraid. Afraid for our lives, afraid for our nation, afraid for the world, afraid even for God.

God doesn’t promise us life without storms. God promises to go through the storms with us so we may come out the other side. In the words of Haruki Murakami, “When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person that walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.” Life in Christ is about changing who we are into who God means for us to be.

Like Job we demand answers. And God reminds us that our knowledge is so minuscule compared to God’s that our arrogance is but a puff of smoke, a blade of grass that sprouts in the morning and withers by sunset. May we, with the least of Christ’s sisters and brothers, truly lament the evil that surrounds us and bow before our God who seeks nothing but good things for all people. May we bear our nation’s pain. May we come through the storm as God’s transformed people.

In closing, I want to read a prayer for today by Jill Duffield, editor of The Presbyterian Outlook. Let us pray.

“Almighty God, our gathering together for worship and prayer is, this day, both an offering of praise and a show of courage. We come to this sanctuary mindful that even sacred spaces are not necessarily safe spaces. We bow our heads remembering our brothers and sisters in Christ whose last earthly act was prayer. We give thanks for the lives of your faithful servants: Clementa Pinckney, Cynthia Hurd, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Tywanza Sanders, Myra Thompson, Ethel Lee Lance, Susie Jackson, Daniel Simmons and Depayne Middleton Doctor. Comfort their families and friends and strengthen them in the difficult days that are ahead. We pray, too, because Christ commands us to, for Dylan Roof and his family. Bring peace, transform hearts, show us again your resurrection power in places we cannot imagine it can come.

“You tell us, Lord God, that perfect love casts out fear and the families of the victims of Mother Church and the people of Charleston have shown us what loving fearlessness looks like. Forgiveness has been extended, hands have been held, hymns have been sung, prayers have been lifted, unity has been demonstrated. The Goliath of hate and racism has not and will not win.

“People of faith and prayer, slain after extending Christ’s welcome in God’s house, have left a legacy that cannot be gunned down. Their lives of love and grace have begat love and grace. The gifts of the Spirit that you gave them – gifts of love, joy, peace, gentleness and goodness – appeared defeated on Wednesday night, but on Thursday when people came together and sang, “We Shall Overcome,” and on Friday when words of forgiveness were spoken and a vigil packed a coliseum, and on Saturday when crowds gathered in solidarity to say that symbols have consequences, and today as we and countless others pray for peace and commit to being peacemakers, we recognize the gifts you gave those nine are unstoppable, exponential, inevitable and victorious.

“God of justice and compassion, you sent your Son for the sake of the world you love. He was murdered, his last words a prayer for forgiveness. Three days later he rose from the dead, his first words ones of reassurance, telling us not to be afraid because even death had been defeated.

“Today we remember and proclaim: Violence and hate do not have the last word. The love of God made known to us through Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, always has the last word. The Spirit’s crop of goodness and love and joy and peace and gentleness will not stop growing. Now is the time for us – people of faith, brothers and sisters of every race and background – to recognize these unshakable truths and in the midst of the storm, trust the power of the One in the boat with us.

“We yield ourselves to you, Triune God, knowing you bring redemption, reconciliation and resurrection. Make us your witnesses. May your perfect love in us and shown through us, cast out fear and help transform the world.

“Amen.” (3)

(1) Soong-Chan Rah, http://www.sojo.net/blogs/2015/06/19/call-national-lament.

(2) http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jun/19/i-forgive-you-charleston-church-victims-families-confront-suspect.

(3) http://pres-outlook.org/2015/06/prayer-for-sunday-worship-in-the-wake-of-the-charleston-massacre/.

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

Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

A Cedar Sprig

Ezekiel 17:1-24; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 4:26-34

There is more to Ezekiel than dry, rattling bones and flaming wheels. But the prophet’s message remains constant – judgment and hope.

The reading from Ezekiel expands today’s appointed reading from the lectionary. A lectionary is a series of scripture readings, over the course of three years, that attempts to hit nearly all the gospels and epistles, and the high points of the Old Testament history and prophetic writings. As the knowledgeable editors cut and paste the readings, not everything gets included. It’s a lot like film-making. The cutting room floor is littered with great material.

I have read for you the whole of chapter 17 rather than the assigned last three verses. While those three verses are wonderfully hope-filled, they are devoid of context.

Ezekiel is one of the most imaginative and creative writers among the prophets. His imagery is vivid and sensational, his keen mind is always on target.

The chapter contains a dramatic riddle and parable depicting two eagles. Ezekiel’s hearers wouldn’t have paid much attention to what he was saying if he had flat out said what God had laid on his heart and mind. The prophet snags his hearers with images that they all can tap into and so tease the mind into conceiving fresh perspectives on reality.

The reality is that fact that the forces of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon had swept through Judah and carried King Jehoiachin and others of the upper echelon of society into exile in Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar is depicted as the eagle with the long feathers and colorful plumage. The Judean king is the topmost branch of the cedar tree who is transported to the land of traders and the city of merchants, Babylon.

Nebuchadnezzar placed Jehoiachin’s uncle Mattaniah – renamed Zedekiah – as his puppet king on the throne in Jerusalem. As long as Zedekiah did what the Babylonian king demanded of him, Babylon would make no further intrusion in to the affairs of Judah. Zedekiah is depicted as a low-spreading vine that was doing well. That is reminiscent of an image in Ezekiel, as well as in Isaiah.

As Ezekiel tells it, another grand eagle, perhaps not quite as majestic as the first, appears on the scene. The vine – Judah – which is well cared for by the first eagle and prospering under its protection starts to hanker after the second eagle. This is Ezekiel’s way of saying that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

The second eagle is a new king in Egypt who is puffing himself up and gathering support for a possible go at supplanting Babylon as the reigning regional power. The vine, Zedekiah, is thinking that perhaps allying himself with the Egyptian monarch will get him a better deal than he currently has. Or so he thinks.

God then tells Ezekiel to ask three questions:

1. Will it (the vine) thrive?
2. Won’t he tear out its roots, strip its fruit, and cause all the leaves of its branches to wither.
3. When the east wind touches it, won’t it completely wither?

The obvious and expected answer to the first question is “No.” And the answers to the second and third questions are an obvious “Yes.” Ezekiel has set up his hearers to give those answers.

The vine – Zedekiah and Judah – will not prosper trying to go after the favor of the Egyptian king rather than enjoying the graciousness of the Babylonian king, even if his favor is that of a benevolent overlord. The “he” in the second question could go two ways. The “he” could be the Egyptian king who would have no second thoughts about running roughshod over Judah in order to take on at Babylon. Or the “he” could be Nebuchadnezzar who would revoke the goodwill relationship he established with Zedekiah and come down hard on him and the whole nation, stomping them into the ground.

The third question without a doubt signifies that Babylon will destroy Judah and blot it off the map.

Again, the Lord’s word came to Ezekiel and he goes on to explain the riddle and parable. Egypt and Pharaoh won’t save Judah. Since Zedekiah had broken the oath of loyalty he had given to Nebuchadnezzar, he is done for. He can’t escape.

Then Ezekiel explains on a deeper level. The solemn pledge that Zedekiah had given wasn’t just to Nebuchadnezzar. It was God’s solemn pledge that he had scorned and God will hold him accountable. “All his elite fighters along with all his troops will fall by the sword, and those who are left will be scattered to the winds.”

Now come the words of hope and promise. God – “I” – take one of the top branches from the tall cedar and plant it on a very high and lofty mountain – Zion.

“It will grow into a mighty cedar. Birds of every kind will nest in it and find shelter in the shade of its boughs. Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the tall tree and raise up the lowly tree, and make the green tree wither and the dry tree bloom. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will do it.”

Ezekiel’s interpretation of his nationalistic parable has a singular perspective. Judah’s political woes can be understood only when the Babylonian imperialism is understood as the activity of the God of Israel, who judges Judah’s kings according to their faithfulness as regents for the only king, Yahweh, lord of the angel armies. Boston University Professor of Hebrew Bible Katheryn Pfisterer Darr writes:

“Ezekiel’s constant affirmations of Yahweh’s unrivaled sovereignty over history challenge ancient and modern readers alike to take with utmost seriousness the psalmist’s assertion, “The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Ps 24:1 NRSV). Yahweh is not indifferent to creation and its creatures. God wills that all our interactions – social, political, environmental, international – be governed by fidelity, wisdom, and an overarching commitment so to live that we participate in bringing about the kingdom of God on earth.”(1)

That’s a lot of history. But without that history, the promise of the last three verses has little basis other than wishful thinking for a brighter future.

Most Christians have moved beyond the simple level of ascribing every good and every evil event to the activity of God. Of course the problem with that approach to past, present, and future is that we make up the definitions of good and evil. That isn’t to say we don’t start with the basic notions that God gives in scripture. It’s just that we embroider them to it our needs, our philosophies, our self-aggrandizing attempts to make us appear better than we are.

We can take Ezekiel’s cause and effect understanding of God’s activity too far. In a world where holocausts happen, even and still in the geographical region of our scriptures, such an approach to divine justice can be lethal.

As Ezekiel sees things, Zedekiah was misguided. He, like so many government, business, or social leaders, was caught among advisers favoring differing views about how to deal with situations which admit no easy answers. Leaders are pulled one way and then another. You don’t have to be a leader to get caught in a labyrinth of opinions from which there seems to be no easy or just exit. It happens in families, it happens in ones own thinking over a thorny problem.

Ezekiel takes seriously Zedekiah’s oath, likely sworn in Yahweh’s name as well as the names of Babylonian deities. Ezekiel does not separate political strategies from religious commitments, as if one could so compartmentalize life as to relegate God to the latter sphere while operating in the former as if God did not exist or had no place there. That’s our tendency as post-modern people, to live from our own perspectives and not give much thought at all about how God fits into things.

For the prophet Ezekiel, life is a seamless garment. God is the essential thread without which the garment has no substance or form. Our ultimate loyalty belongs with God who has given us a covenant of life like no other through Jesus Christ. Without our commitment the garments of our lives unravel.

As the lowly mustard seed can grow into a large plant to shelter birds and animals, as God can take a cedar sprig and grow it into a flourishing realm of God’s presence, so Christ can make us into new creations. Under God’s divine sovereignty “the old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Thanks be to God.

(1) Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “Ezekiel,” The New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2001), Vol VI, p 1252.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

Life Is Messy

Psalm 130; Genesis 3:8-15; Mark 3:20-35; 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1

I know that some of you are observant of little details. I know that because you love to communicate those details to me, especially when I haven’t gotten them right. For which 79% of the time I am grateful. We won’t talk about the other 21%.

So how observant are you today? Did you notice that the color changed. What color? The color of the fabric hangings under the sconces. The colors change with the seasons of the church year, helping us to reflect on the nature of particular periods of time in the cycle of salvation history. If you were noticing, you saw that two weeks ago they changed from white to red. That was on Pentecost Sunday. Red is the traditional color for the Holy Spirit.

Now the color is green. We have entered a new season of the church year, a season that amounts to half of a year. The season may be called the Season after Pentecost (we’ll be using that language in the bulletin) or Ordinary Time (ordinary in the sense that there no special times like Lent or Christmas in it).

The first half of the church year (Advent through Pentecost) focuses on the story of God. We hear what God has done for us. We hear about Jesus, his birth, ministry, death and resurrection. We hear about the history of his relationship with his people. We hear about why we need Jesus. Beginning with this Sunday, the focus turns to us. Now that we know what God has done, we consider what we will do in response. The Season after Pentecost is about growing in our faith and action. Hence the green color. It is about listening to God’s call and going forth in faith.

It is humbling to remember that even after all God has done for us we are still sinners in need of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Many of the New Testament passages you will hear read during the Pentecost season focus on the great work we can and will do for God. We have been called to the holy priesthood of witnessing to God’s grace. We can, and do, fall prey to the possibility that we are something special, and when we least expect it God may use us for some exquisite piece of gospel work. Even us, who still have a part of us that is no different from those who have not yet devoted themselves to discipleship, that propensity to go off and do things our way rather than God’s way. The result of that is a messy life. Just ask our first parents, and their children. Just ask the Israelites idling in the Sinai desert like we do in a Columbus freeway tie-up.

Augustine, who became bishop of Hippo in North Africa at the end of the 4th century, wrote in the preface of his book, The City of God,

“[The city of God, i.e., the church] must bear in mind that among her very enemies are hidden her future citizens.... In the same way, while the City of God is on pilgrimage in this world, she has in her midst some who are united with her in participation in the sacraments, but who will not join with her in the eternal destiny of the saints.” 

Life is messy. Jesus told us that.

Peg Hoppes writes that she once knew a woman who wanted to be a Christian. She believed in Jesus, had even been involved in church at different times in her life, but wasn’t attending anywhere. She wasn’t ready to make a commitment. She had many excuses, but her real problem was that she did not think she was good enough to be in the presence of God and Christians. She wanted to get right with God first, then she might go to church. She was never ready. She never understood that Christianity was not a group of holy people, but a pack of forgiven sinners who gather to hear the Word preached and to receive the Sacraments so that they could know the love, mercy and grace of God through Jesus Christ his Son. The woman did not want to step into the presence of God until she found a way to hide her imperfections.(1)

God knows our imperfections. God sees into the very depths of our beings; we can’t hide anything from him. He sees beyond our masks; he has known us since before we were born. God knows, and God loves us anyway. The only difference between those who are inside the church and those outside are the ones inside know that they are there by God’s grace. Those outside are like Adam and Eve, trying to hide from the very God who would be their salvation.

As the psalmist wrote,
If you kept track of sins, Lord—
my Lord, who would stand a chance?
But forgiveness is with you—
that’s why you are honored.
God’s forgiveness is available for us. Not when we think we have earned it, not when we think we have finally rooted out all our sinfulness ourselves, not on our timetable, and not by dint of our effort. Without God’s forgiveness, messy life is even messier.

Brené Brown is a research professor in social work at the Graduate School of the University of Houston. She went into social work because she thought she could clean up some of human messiness. In the midst of her graduate research she discovered results that upended her ideas. It was shame, which translated into the fear of disconnection, the “I’m not blank enough” syndrome. Fill in the blank: pretty, tall, rich, smart, good. After six years of interviews and research, Dr. Brown realized that she had two basic groups of people: those who believed themselves worthy and those who didn’t.

As she studied those who believed themselves worthy she found several common elements: they lived whole-heartedly (courageously), they had compassion to be kind to themselves and then to others, they were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were, and they fully embraced vulnerability.

Brown says, “They didn’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating – as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, ‘I love you’ first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They’re willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental.”(2)

This is the world we live in, a vulnerable world, a messy world. As Dr. Brown notes, “We are the most in-debt, obese, addicted and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history.” It’s a vulnerable world and we try to numb it. The problem is that we cannot selectively numb emotion. None of us can say, here’s the bad stuff – vulnerability, grief, shame, fear, disappointment – we don’t want to feel these.

People who have no hope collapse under the weight of the mess of life. Trying to numb it all only intensifies the weight. Whole-hearted, courageous, compassionate, daring, vulnerable people have hope. In the words of the psalmist,
I hope, Lord.
My whole being hopes,
and I wait for God’s promise.
My whole being waits for my Lord—
more than the night watch waits for morning!
Because God is the author of salvation, because all life comes from God, because as we who are followers of Christ know that Christ’s mercy and saving grace meet us in our vulnerability, we can affirm the words of the psalmist, we can endorse them and proclaim them to one and to all.

Life is messy. We can’t clean it up ourselves. We live with it, live through it with the help of Christ who dove into human messiness wholeheartedly, with extreme compassion, and with flair. He joined us in our vulnerability, so that we may know true hope.
Israel, wait for the Lord!
Because faithful love is with the Lord;
because great redemption is with our God!
He is the one who will redeem Israel
from all its sin.

Brené Brown and Jesus would say, “You know what? You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” Jesus would add, “You are mine, because life is messy. I love you. Make the most of the mess.”

(1) Peg Hoppes, “A WORD FOR TODAY, June 3, 2015,” awordfortoday@yahoogroups.com.
(2) Brené Brown, “The power of vulnerability,” TEDxHouston, June 2010; https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability/transcript?language=en#t-1087072.

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

Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

The Shield of Love

John 17:6-19; 1 John 5:9-13; Acts 1:15-17, 21-26

Do you ever have times when nothing is going right, the whole world seems against you, and all you want to do is jump in a hole and pull it in after you? If there was a theme song for that it would be one which Eddie Arnold, Elvis Presley and Martina McBride have all sung: “Make the world go away, get it off my shoulders....” Even extroverts have their rare and brief moments when they want everything to come to a screeching halt and silence to prevail.

I think that Jesus had times like that. The gospel writers record a number of times when Jesus went off to be by himself. And of course his solitude was interrupted by the disciples, either seeking for him because the crowds were looking for him or because they were afraid or helpless. And there was the time in Gethsemane when the disciples were all asleep and the Temple guards came looking for Jesus.

After his alone times Jesus always returned to the public eye. He and the three disciples couldn’t stay on the mountain of the Transfiguration because he still had work to do. Out of a resting sleep he stilled the roiling storm that riled the disciples. And Mark noted that after one such time by himself Jesus told the disciples, “Let’s head in the other direction, to the nearby villages, so that I can preach there too. That’s why I’ve come” (Mark 2:37).

After lingering on the news of Lazarus’ death, Jesus headed to Bethany. Thomas probably summed up the disciples’ expectation, “Let us go too so that we may die with Jesus” (John 11:16). A while later Jesus went from Bethany down the Mount of Olives and into Jerusalem, into the very heart of the institutional opposition which had been mounting. Four days later the religious authorities grabbed him and turned him over to the military officials for execution.

In those last days, even hours, Jesus spoke to his disciples and tried to prepare them for the time that was coming – a time which would include his absence. Jesus tried to impress upon the disciples that they would need their wits about them, that their very mettle will be tried. They will need their strength, their memory of his teaching, and their faith. In spite of all his work of preparing them, even stating bluntly that he was going to be executed, his death came like a full force blow to their guts.

The disciples holed up in a room somewhere following his death. That was mostly for fear that the authorities would come after them as well. That intensified when the women told them that the tomb was empty and that Jesus had risen. The locked door couldn’t keep the risen Lord out. He wasn’t going to hide in the tomb, nor was he going to hide from the disciples.

In the space of forty days, the risen Jesus managed to change the eleven disciples and other supporters from frightened rabbits into strong, perceptive, fearless leaders. After Jesus departed from them for the final time – his ascension to be with God the Father – the eleven got their act together, believed that they had been called as the New Israel, decided that they needed to be twelve in number, and chose the twelfth apostle, a sort of fourth round draft pick. We never heard of Matthias before or since, but he filled the empty stool at the table. Obviously there were hangers on beyond the twelve that got top billing.

Jesus had told them to wait for the coming of the Spirit, and when it came they were ready. We will celebrate that event next week.

How were they able to accomplish that feat, and then to move out into the world? Why did they choose to go out into the crowd and the world rather than staying inside? It would have been quite easy for them to live to themselves and avoid much of the world around them and the pain and hassle which that involved. The history of Christianity is filled with stories of faith communities which have done just that. They sought to create a space which was unencumbered by the world and in which the faithful could fully realize the peace and grace of a faithful, holy life.

John records Jesus’ thoughts on this in the great prayer which Jesus offered sometime between Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Jesus knows that the disciples and others will want to stay off by themselves. Jesus provides an alternative to that. They don’t have to give in to the pressures of the world. Again and again Jesus reminded hearers that they don’t belong to the world, that is to say that the claims of the world do not shape their essential identity, values, and faith. The faith that Jesus sought to instill in believers was anything but an escape from the world. “I say these things while I’m in the world so that they can share completely in my joy.”  Christ spoke to them in the same world there they live and where they will find joy. “They don’t belong to this world, just as I don’t belong to this world.” They can be a community – one filled with joy – but without abandoning the world.

Jesus then goes on to pray more fervently for the disciples, the hangers on, and even those who will come later.  “I’m not asking that you take them out of this world but that you keep them safe from the evil one. They don’t belong to this world.” The believers are to stay in the world under the protective care of God. They are to live amidst all the thorny complexities of the world without themselves getting entangled and impaled.

Any holiness they thought they might find in seclusion will actually be found in the action of God and in immersion in God’s word. “Make them holy in the truth; your word is truth.” God’s truth will be revealed in the crucible of the world, not the serenity of escapism. “As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” That is the exact opposite of getting out of the world. Yes, the world has already beaten them down in many ways, not the least of which was the public execution of their teacher, master, lord.

Jesus told them, even before it happened, that the answer will not be to run away, but to go back into the world. They will have to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and start all over again. They can’t do that on their own. But they can do it because Jesus has invoked the shield of his and God’s love to protect them. And he will give them his Spirit which will empower them.

We could call that the original solar power – they will be powered by the Son (with an “o” rather than a “u”). The Spirit for whom they are to wait will guide them and sustain them. God’s love will be a force shield deflecting the evil of the world which would separate them from God. That doesn’t mean they won’t be unscathed, or that they won’t die for the faith. It means that they are securely in God’s care for ever.

The shield of God’s love might not be the same thing as a force field around the Starship Enterprise or Dr. Who’s Tardis, but it is a description of the love which God has shown and will continue to show. We who are the friends – not servants or slaves, but friends – of Jesus have the full attention of God’s care, because we are Jesus’ friends. That eternal love is the sure sense of Christ’s presence which will allow us to live vitally and faithfully in the world. We will not be owned the by world. We will not hide from the world. We will engage the world with all its needs – spiritual, physical, emotional – and its wounds and scars. That engagement will be energized by the truth of God’s word, and by the Word made flesh, who came that we might have life and have it abundantly.

The shield of God’s love is the source of our strength. Thanks be to God.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

The Topography of Love

John 15:9-17; Acts 10:44-48; 1 John 5:1-6

We have heard two readings from John. In 1 John, we heard the word “love” (verb or noun) five times. In the gospel, we heard the word “love” nine times. John owns the word “love.” In the gospel he uses the noun six times and the verb a whopping 31 times. That is half again more than the combined use of both noun and verb by Matthew, Mark, and Luke. In John’s three letters, the noun shows up 18 times and the verb 24 times. If John is the disciple that Jesus loved (John 21:20), he radiates that love and all that it stands for through his writing. The emphasis in John’s writing, and in today’s readings particularly, is on God’s love for us and our love for one another.

Last Sunday we looked at the geometry of God’s love – width and length, depth and height – and said that God’s love was infinite in every imaginable direction. Today, let’s look at God’s love – and the love that we have which results from God’s loving us – from a different vantage point: topography.

Harken back to your days in school and those wonderful window-shade pull-down maps. There were political maps showing states or countries. There were maps showing battles in wars. Other maps showed natural resources or population density. And then there were the ones that showed the world in relief. You could see the mammoth Himalayan mountains that shook a couple of weeks ago. You could see the snow on Mt. Kilimanjaro and the Alps. You could see the mighty rivers – Mississippi, Nile, Amazon, Indus, Ganges, Yellow. You could see Death Valley and the Dead Sea, both below sea level. Since our time in school, digital mapping by satellites have mapped the mountains and valleys under the oceans. I don’t know about you, but these were my favorite maps and I would study them at length when I could.

The United States Geological Survey publishes topographical maps of our nation. They are extremely detailed and were the best resource available until space-based mapping and Google Earth came around. There’s a sample on the cover of the bulletin. This is the map that includes Waverly, which is on the center of the left edge. Sorry, Lake White folks, you live on the next map over.

Topography is fun. Bill Bryson wrote A Walk in the Woods to describe his adventures of walking the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. It starts out rough for him and his friend at the southern terminus:

“Each time you haul yourself up to what you think must surely be the crest, you find that there is more hill beyond, sloped at an angle that kept it from view before, and that beyond that slope is another and beyond that another. And beyond those more still until it seems impossible that any hill could run on this long. Eventually you reach the height where you can see the top of the topmost trees with nothing but clear sky beyond....Finally, you...realize...that the view is sensational, a boundless vista of wooded mountains, unmarked by human hand, marching off in every direction.”(1) 

If we think about life, that is an apt description of how much of our living goes – uphill all the way. But we get those brief moments when the vistas of joy are sensational, jaw-dropping and speech-silencing. But they are brief, because the path heads down to get us ready for another arduous uphill climb.
Philip Yancey, in What’s So Amazing About Grace? tells the following:

“Not long ago I received in the mail a postcard from a friend that had on it only six words, ‘I am the one Jesus loves.’ I smiled when I saw the return address, for my strange friend excels at these pious slogans. When I called him, though, he told me the slogan came from the author and speaker Brennan Manning. At a seminar, Manning referred to Jesus’ closest friend on earth, the disciple named John, identified in the Gospels as ‘the one Jesus loved.’ Manning said, ‘If John were to be asked, “What is your primary identity in life?” he would not reply, “I am a disciple, an apostle, an evangelist, an author of one of the four Gospels,” but rather, “I am the one Jesus loves.” ’ ” (2)

Manning tells another story.

“An Irish priest who, on a walking tour of a rural parish, sees an old peasant kneeling by the side of the road, praying. Impressed, the priest says to the man, ‘You must be very close to God.’ The peasant looks up from his prayers, thinks a moment, and then smiles, ‘Yes, he’s very fond of me.’ ” (3)  

Jesus calls us friends, not servants. What does it mean to be a friend of Jesus? What does it mean to have Jesus very fond of us? Yancey notes that sociologists have a theory of the “looking-glass self”: you become what the most important person in your life (wife, father, boss, etc.) thinks you are. Yancey then asks the question, “How would my life change if I truly believed the Bible’s astounding words about God’s love for me, if I looked in the mirror and saw what God sees?” (4)

Jesus said, “You didn’t choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you could go and produce fruit.” We can’t produce fruit if we are not connected to Jesus. He is the one who connects us to himself.  Jesus further said, “I have said these things to you so that my joy will be in you and your joy will be complete. This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you. No one has greater love than to give up one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”

Jesus embraces us. Jesus connects with us. Just before today’s reading, Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches....Without me you can’t do anything.” Jesus will go on to talk about the length to which he will go for those whom he claims as his own, calls his friends, and loves: he will die for them.

There is an Irish blessing which says, “May the road rise to meet you.” That means that it touches you, that it is foundational for you, supportive of you, sustaining for you.

Google Earth is wonderful to look at, but we don’t hover over the world like some robotic drone. We are of the earth – that’s what the creation story tells us.

Eighty-three year old Nobel Peace Laureate Mother Teresa addressed the National Prayer Breakfast. Her frail body and thick accent did not blunt her message: America has become a selfish nation, in danger of losing the proper meaning of love: “giving until it hurts.”(5)

Have you ever heard love defined that way? I hadn’t. We talk about love as the warm feelings inside when we are with a special person – or even thinking about that person. We talk about “making love” to refer to sexual activities. We talk about loving a car or some other object, meaning that we really like it, really want it, or spend all our extra time working on it. We often think of love as getting or having someone or something.

However, Mother Teresa says that love is giving – giving until it hurts. That’s what Jesus does. In fact, he not only gives until it hurts; he will continue giving until he dies. That’s how much pain he will suffer on behalf of those he loves. That’s also the lifestyle that Mother Teresa lived.

The “Americans with Disabilities Act” (ADA) provides that as street corners are built and rebuilt, special pads are placed at the crossing points for sight-impaired people to recognize when they have reached the street’s edge. The raised buttons on the embedded pads can be felt through just about any shoe sole except combat boots. You feel them, you feel the topography of the street’s edge.

The topography of love is the same. We feel it. It hurts. It hurts because we are in contact with the world and with each other. The topography of living has the same extremes as the surface of the earth. Mountains and valleys, joys and distresses, vistas and eyesores, rough places and plains, moments of solidarity and moments of conflict.

But Jesus says to each one of us, you are the one I love. You are the friend for whom I am willing to die. I am the one who shapes you into the person you are called to be. I am the one who is closest to you. Whatever the topography of your life, feel me and know my love. Only as you know my love can you love others until it hurts, until you die for them culturally, socially, economically, philosophically, religiously.

Jesus invites you to feel the hills and valleys, the rough and smooth of love. If love has no topography, it is not life as he offers it to us. He gave you these commandments “so that you can love each other.”

May it be so.

(1) Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods, (New York: Random House,1998). Transcribed from audio book, compact disc 1.
(2) Philip Yancey, What’s So Amazing About Grace (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997) 68-69.
(3) Ibid., 69.
(4) Ibid.
(5) Ibid., 244.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

The Geometry of Love

1 John 4:7-21; Acts 8:26-40; John 15:1-8

A few weeks ago I used the word “truncated” in an online comment. A college classmate responded to say that that was a geology term. He should know, that’s his profession. I said that I had only been in the geology building a couple of times in four years and that I had learned the term in solid geometry. If you take a cone- or pyramid-shaped solid and lop off the pointy end, you can say that it is truncated solid. It is shortened.

As I was reading today’s portion of John’s letter, it occurred to me that we could think of God’s love in terms solid geometry. God’s love is three-dimensional. We are so used to thinking of love in abstract terms, as if it were some sort of calculus, that perhaps simple Euclidian geometry can help us.

So, just to refresh, two dimensions deal with area, length times width, such as how many square feet are in a room that 40 feet by 45 feet. Three dimensions deal with solids. Volume is length times width times height. How many cubic feet are in a room 40 feet by 45 feet by 11 feet high.

Sometimes we think of love in two-dimensional terms: I love you and you love me. The relationship may sound simple, but we both know that it is more complex. If you think our relationship is complex, let your mind be boggled by how complex our love relationship with God is.

Paul prays for the Ephesian believers in chapter 3:

I ask that he will strengthen you in your inner selves from the riches of his glory through the Spirit. I ask that Christ will live in your hearts through faith. As a result of having strong roots in love, I ask that you’ll have the power to grasp love’s width and length, height and depth, together with all believers. I ask that you’ll know the love of Christ that is beyond knowledge so that you will be filled entirely with the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:16-19)

That certainly seems like solid geometry to me.

Paul uses the word “grasp” in its military definition, that is to capture, wrestle, overpower, take command of. Paul is really praying that the Ephesian believers will work hard at meditating and pondering the gospel until the point that they break through into the true meaning of it. This is the work of the Spirit. Paul is proposing this three-dimensional approach to wrestling with God’s love as a way of finally breaking through into its core.

God’s love is foundational. John tells us that:

[L]ove is from God, and everyone who loves is born from God and knows God. The person who doesn’t love does not know God, because God is love. This is how the love of God is revealed to us: God has sent his only Son into the world so that we can live through him. This is love: it is not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son as the sacrifice that deals with our sins.

How wide is God’s love? Consider the words of Isaiah: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they will be white as snow. If they are red as crimson, they will become like wool” (Isaiah 1:18). Scarlet and crimson are the color of blood. In our human propensity to rank order things, murder – taking another person’s life, shedding blood – is usually considered the worst thing a person can do. Isaiah presents God’s take on this: Even if you have killed somebody on purpose or in a fit of anger, even if you are responsible for the death of someone else through negligence, God’s love is wide enough to enfold you and embrace you. God says, “The width of my love is seen on the cross. Jesus died for your sins, no matter how heinous they might be.” Since Jesus died on the cross so that each of us can be saved by grace alone, then God’s love is infinitely wide. It is more than wide enough for each of us. Any sin of ours, even all our sins laid end to end, are outdistanced by the breadth of God’s love. That’s the first dimension of God’s love.

How long is God’s love? In John Jesus says, “My sheep listen to my voice. I know them and they follow me. I give them eternal life. They will never die, and no one will snatch them from my hand” (John 10:27-28) Paul wrote the Philippians, “I’m sure about this: the one who started a good work in you will stay with you to complete the job by the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6). Note that the operative verb is “will stay.” There is certainty there. It isn’t “may” or maybe.” God’s love is infinitely long. That’s what John is addressing when he says, “This is how we know we remain in him and he remains in us, because he has given us a measure of his Spirit.” The Spirit seals this in us. As Jesus told his hearers, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, then you will produce much fruit. Without me, you can’t do anything” (John 15:5).

The visionary John who wrote the Book of Revelation notes that the first beast was allowed to make war on the saints and gain victory over them. All who worshiped the beast “from the time the earth was made” didn’t have their names written “in the scroll of life of the Lamb who was slain” (Revelation 13:8). What this tells us is that God has put the divine love on us in the very depths of time. The vine has been pruned and the branches that have been kept will remain because the God – Father, Son, and Spirit – will remain in the very life juices that keep the vine flourishing to produce good fruit. God will not remove his love. Salvation is by grace, not works. God’s grace to us has nothing to do with what we do. It can’t be earned, it can’t be manufactured. It is a gift which began in the depths of time and will last into eternity, from forever ago to forever from now.

The reason that the love of God in Christ is infinitely wide and infinitely long is because it is infinitely deep. Jesus is the proof the depth of God’s love. Without Christ, any talk about the depth of God’s love would be simply abstraction. A picture is supposedly worth a thousand words. Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is worth a billion words, a million volumes. Jesus felt the distance between heaven and hell. “My God, my God, why have you left me?” (Mark 15:34). Jesus was thrown into the deepest pit anyone could ever find themselves. And he went voluntarily. God’s love is infinitely deep to match its infinite wideness and length.

If God’s love is deep, it is also high. In his priestly prayer in John 17, Jesus prays, “Father, I want those you gave me to be with me where I am. Then they can see my glory, which you gave because you loved me before the creation of the world” (John 17:24). The letter-writing John wrote, “Now we are God’s children, and it hasn’t yet appeared what we shall be, We know that when he appears we will be like him because we’ll see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). That is the height of God’s love. God is going to give to us the same thing that fills his heart with unfailing joy from all eternity. He is going to show us his glory. And more than that, he is going to give that glory to us. God’s love is infinitely high.

There we have the geometry of God’s love: infinitely wide and infinitely long, infinitely deep and infinitely high. Infinite in any direction, from forever ago to forever from now. The psalmist understands:
You surround me—front and back.
You put your hand on me.
That kind of knowledge is too much for me;
it’s so high above me that I can’t fathom it.
Where could I go to get away from your spirit?
Where could I go to escape your presence?
If I went up to heaven, you would be there.
If I went down to the grave, you would be there too!
If I could fly on the wings of dawn,
stopping to rest only on the far side of the ocean—
even there your hand would guide me;
even there your strong hand would hold me tight!
If I said, “The darkness will definitely hide me;
the light will become night around me,”
even then the darkness isn’t too dark for you!
Nighttime would shine bright as day,
because darkness is the same as light to you! (Psalm 139: 5-12)

The geometry of God’s love: Infinite in every direction, infinite in every aspect. What a gift! What joy! Thanks be to God.

General Resource: Timothy Keller, Prayer (New York: Dutton, 2014), 173-175.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com. 
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.