Text: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Theme: “Wild Beasts and Angels”
First Sunday in Lent
February 26, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
9 At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11 And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
12 At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, 13 and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted[g] by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.
14 After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. 15 “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”
At our home, while much of the grown-up reading is done with a kindle or an iPad, we have seen an increase in the number of children’s books lying around the house. Our grandson, zeroing in on three years of age, has an all but contagious sense of adventure, and classic children’s literature feeds that impulse.
Many of us, even as adults, have enjoyed the work of Dr. Seuss. My favorite will always be Green Eggs and Ham, although the less familiar Great Day for Up comes in a close second. Some of you think I’m nuts because everybody knows that The Cat in the Hat is at the top of the list in the Seuss corpus. And then, mindful of today’s Gospel for the First Sunday in Lent, we can’t leave out the work of Maurice Sendak from the body of children’s literature. I speak of Where the Wild Things Are. The writing is succinct; it’s easy for the little ones to understand. Ironically, Sendak is reported to have said this: “You cannot write for children. They're much too complicated. You can only write books that are of interest to them. ”
Then, of course, there are his drawings of those wild things, those monsters, those beasts with fangs. They scared the little boy in the story at first. But then he scared them when he threatened to leave the land where the wild rumpus took place:
“But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!”
And Max said, “No!”
The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye.”
Max, the little boy, had been naughty, and his mother sent him to his room with no supper. Our Lord, however, had not been naughty. Rather, he had been baptized in the Jordan River. And the image of the Holy Spirit descending on Him like a dove is so lovely, so serene, so sensitive, so kindly, so pastoral in its evocation. Nowadays, it’s not so much what words mean; it all has to do with what they evoke. We’re not interested in definitions so much anymore; they tend to bore us. Today, it’s all about how language makes us feel – as if all we are is a bundle of feelings, emotions. “Aww, that’s nice, so nice: the thought of a lovely little dove at this seminal moment in Jesus’s life.
Oh, really? It looks to me as if the Holy Spirit is a little more than a dove in today’s story. It’s the Holy Spirit who may be the wild thing, the wild beast in the Gospel narrative. After the Baptism, it politely says that the Holy Spirit “sent him out into the wilderness.” The “sent him” bit is not an accurate translation at all. The word actually means to push, or to shove, or to cast, or to throw, or to drive something forward. The image I get is that of a power lifter in training who picks up a huge medicine ball, hoists it over his shoulders, and slams it into the wall. The Holy Spirit threw Him into the wilderness. That image is more like it – in an age which likes its images more than its meanings.
We have family members and friends who serve in the United States military. When they’ve been back to FPC, I’ve been both proud and personally frustrated. I’m proud of them – as we all are. But I’m frustrated that I don’t get the time to pick their brains. I want to know what training is like – basic training that is.
Act of Valor, a major motion picture, has now hit the silver screen, and it details the training of the elite navy seals. First reports are that this is a show that you would want to go see. And I know, it’s not a “chick flick”, but bear with me! The driving of Jesus into the wilderness, to most Bible scholars, is the beginning of His basic training if you will. It was a forty day dose of harsh reality. Jesus is out there where the wild things are, and this is no children’s story. We are told, in Mark’s account, that he was tempted by Satan. Other accounts fill in those details, but Mark doesn’t. Mark does, however, tell us that angels attended Jesus.
An angel, by definition, is a messenger. Elsewhere in Scripture, angels are described as ministering spirits sent to those who will inherit salvation. In the New Testament book of Hebrews, we are told to practice hospitality to strangers because we may just be “entertaining angels unaware.” Most of the conversation about angels revolves around their existence – as if all angels had to do was exist, not exist, or wait around waiting around for us to decide whether they exist or not exist. This I find to be insufferably boring. The arguments for or against are both cyclical and circular.
Back in 1987 during grad school days, I was driving back to my apartment after dropping my dad off at the St. Louis airport. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and I took a different way home through an unfamiliar, hilly suburb. On the way down one of the hills, a small yellow sports car, at high rate of speed, turned right up the road that I was going down. Losing traction, it went into a three hundred sixty degree spin right into my lane. In a split-second, I braced myself for impact. I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t have a seatbelt on. The wet roads were of no help for traction, and the front of my car slammed into the passenger door of the little car.
I could show you pictures today my Oldsmobile Cutlass and the other driver’s car. Based on that picture, most would conclude that I (or the other driver) shouldn’t be alive. In fact, one person suggested that my guardian angel must have been “on duty” that day. Now for you scientifically-minded, for you proud empiricists, I’ll be the first to say that I cannot prove that an angel saved my life. For that matter, I really don’t want to. But I am convinced, beyond any reasonable doubt, that some of the most incredible things in life cannot be seen.
Out in the desert where things can be seen, with food and water in short supply; out in the wilderness being tempted by Satan; out in the midst of real life where things get harsh and raw and bitter and ugly, that’s where we find Jesus. While preparing these words, I had XM Radio set to channel 71. It’s called the “Siriusly Sinatra” channel. And, while I’m working, I hear Tony Bennett sing one of his signature favorites: “Oh, the good life, full of fun, seems to be the ideal.” I had to laugh.
This is about as far as you and I get on most days. We just want a good life, and we want it to be full of fun. Isn’t that the “ideal”? But what constitutes a “good life”? What constitutes “fun”? If we may get real about it for a moment, we have to factor in the fact that life is going to have its wilderness moments too. The season of Lent, if anything, hammers this home. It tutors us in this. We’re no different than Jesus in this way. There are times in life when we will be alone, when we will be hungry, when we will be thirsty, when our position will be compromised, when we will be tempted to give in to any and every impulse that spells relief, when we will have to trust in someone or something to see us through. Whatever it is that assails us in this life, I’m here to say that it can be wild; it can be beastly. And it’s no rumpus; it’s no party. But we’re here today. Perhaps we shall thank God for God’s angels that, whether we believe or it not or sense it or not, have served us and brought us to this day.
There will be wild beasts and angels. This is the harsh but honest reality of life. For Jesus in the wilderness those forty days, it was beasts and angels on steroids. And our Lord passed the exam.
Speaking of the angels, they were there when Christ was born. They praised God over the hills of Bethlehem. Their audience consisted of blue collar workers at the bottom of the pay scale. Angels were there when He was tempted. When He agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane, they were there. An angel was there to roll away the stone so the world could see that the grave was empty, that Christ was risen.
But at Calvary, at the cross of Christ, the angels were held back. They could only observe, only watch. They could not intervene; they were forbidden to minister. For at the cross, it was Christ alone – and only Him – that could do for us what we could not do for ourselves.
We are like Sendak’s wild things. Jesus is like Max. In Lent, the church says to Jesus: “Oh, please don’t go. We’ll eat you up. We love you so.”
Jesus doesn’t say no. He says: “Lo, I am with you always – even to the end of the age.”
Amen.
THE STRAIGHTFORWARD PULPIT
Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Lent Paid Forward
Text: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Theme: “Lent Paid Forward”
Ash Wednesday
February 22, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
5 “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
16 “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Nineteen hours ago, when the clock struck midnight -- while many of us were getting ready for bed or already asleep -- the Time of Christmas silently gave way to the Time of Easter.
The Time of Christmas has three seasons: the season of Advent, the “little season” (as it is called) of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and the season of Epiphany. Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of the Time of Easter. It, too, has three seasons: the forty day season of Lent; the “little season” of Holy Week which includes Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday; and the season of Easter itself which runs for seven weeks – a “week of weeks”, if you will.
So here we are at a unique moment in time: the beginning of The Time of Easter and The Season of Lent on the day that is called Ash Wednesday. In a matter of minutes, we will observe a solemn ritual called The Imposition of the Ashes. And it is an imposition. In a culture that vainly and desperately tries to find the fountain of youth and seeks what some have called “the eternal sunshine of the soul”, the imposition of ashes is an imposing, gritty, dirty, perhaps even nasty reminder of our mortality. It recalls that word from God recorded in Genesis: “Dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” The words are echoed at the countless gravesides of history: “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; from dust you came and to dust you shall return.” As an old doggerel goes: “The clock of life is wound but once, and no one has the power to tell just where the hands will stop – at late or early hour.”
The ashes, smudged on our foreheads in the sign of the cross, are an invitation as well. They invite us to repent, to change our mind, to get real with God, with ourselves, and each other. They call us to get back to the basic, to put first things first, to observe the Biblical and historic disciplines of Lent, to acknowledge both individually and corporately, that life isn’t one bright, shining moment after another that’s fit for broadcast on Entertainment Tonight! It it has been said that “Only those who have walked through the darkest valley can truly appreciate how magnificent it is to stand on the highest mountain.” In Lent, we are down in the valley – with our Lord and one another. We are mindful of the words of the great King David in the 23rd Psalm: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”
So, let the journey begin! In tonight’s Gospel, our Lord highlights disciplines, practices, or spiritual exercises that are helpful not only in Lent but throughout our entire lives.
But He prefaces His remarks with a warning. He says: “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them.” There is no reward in that, He says. He’s not saying that you can’t practice your righteousness. He’s not saying that you can’t express or confess or live your faith at all. He’s operating under the assumption that you will express, confess, and live your faith. He’s zeroing in on the whole question of motive. If our motive in expressing and living the faith is to be seen by others and to pick up spiritual brownie points for ourselves and gets kudos from other folks for how wonderful and upright, moral, and beyond reproach we are, we’ve got it way wrong!
Jesus says: “When you give to the needy, don’t announce it with trumpets.” He doesn’t say “If you give to the needy.” He says “When you give to the needy.” He assumes His followers, you and I, are going to be charitable. But again, we’re back at the whole motive thing. We don’t engage in charitable giving to get a pat on the back for our generosity or to boost are sagging egos. He says that when you “give to the needy, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret.”
Now comes the whole matter of prayer. Lent is a prime time to renew our devotion to daily meditation and prayer. But the idea, again, is to do it privately – or, as in the words of Jesus, “in secret.” Here at FPC, we’ve provided some great devotional material for meditation and prayer during Lent. But if and how and when and where you use them or don’t use them is not something that we need to talk about. Do you get what I’m saying?
Next comes the whole matter of fasting – or, as it is occasionally asked, “What are you giving up for Lent?” The minute you answer that question, you’ve torpedoed what Jesus was getting at. Again, He’s not saying that you should not make a sacrifice. He just wants to make sure our motives are right. We’re not giving something up so that we can shout to the world what a wonderful sacrifice we’ve made. Jesus goes as far as to say that He wants it to look like we’re giving up nothing at all.
Finally, Jesus considers the practice of storing up treasure. Again, He’s not saying you shouldn’t do it. He does have a thing or two to say about where to do it. Listen to this: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”
I think it safe to say that there are times when we worry ourselves sick about storing up treasures on earth. We earn; we spend; we budget; we do financial planning; we set up wills; we try to avoid the taxman; we spend money for expert opinion on how to invest; we cross our fingers and hope that our 401K and our Social Security will hold up, and that the moth and the vermin and the thieves won’t eat or steal the little pile of cheese we’ve managed to store up. “But,” says Jesus, “what would it profit a person if he/she gains the whole world” – with every conceivable golden parachute ever conceived of or offered – “but forfeit your own soul?”
At the end of The Season of Lent, we’re going to see once more how valuable we are to our Creator. We will take careful note of the investment God made in us. The Gospel says that, in Jesus Christ, God invested His life! The more we realize this, the more our heavenly stock portfolio rises – not because of who we are or what we did, but because of what God did for us.
And in the meantime, in this Season of Lent, and quietly and consistently and, at times, even secretly, throughout our lives, we get to pay it forward.
“Freely you have received,” says Jesus. “Freely give.”
Amen.
Theme: “Lent Paid Forward”
Ash Wednesday
February 22, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
5 “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
16 “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Nineteen hours ago, when the clock struck midnight -- while many of us were getting ready for bed or already asleep -- the Time of Christmas silently gave way to the Time of Easter.
The Time of Christmas has three seasons: the season of Advent, the “little season” (as it is called) of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and the season of Epiphany. Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of the Time of Easter. It, too, has three seasons: the forty day season of Lent; the “little season” of Holy Week which includes Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday; and the season of Easter itself which runs for seven weeks – a “week of weeks”, if you will.
So here we are at a unique moment in time: the beginning of The Time of Easter and The Season of Lent on the day that is called Ash Wednesday. In a matter of minutes, we will observe a solemn ritual called The Imposition of the Ashes. And it is an imposition. In a culture that vainly and desperately tries to find the fountain of youth and seeks what some have called “the eternal sunshine of the soul”, the imposition of ashes is an imposing, gritty, dirty, perhaps even nasty reminder of our mortality. It recalls that word from God recorded in Genesis: “Dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” The words are echoed at the countless gravesides of history: “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; from dust you came and to dust you shall return.” As an old doggerel goes: “The clock of life is wound but once, and no one has the power to tell just where the hands will stop – at late or early hour.”
The ashes, smudged on our foreheads in the sign of the cross, are an invitation as well. They invite us to repent, to change our mind, to get real with God, with ourselves, and each other. They call us to get back to the basic, to put first things first, to observe the Biblical and historic disciplines of Lent, to acknowledge both individually and corporately, that life isn’t one bright, shining moment after another that’s fit for broadcast on Entertainment Tonight! It it has been said that “Only those who have walked through the darkest valley can truly appreciate how magnificent it is to stand on the highest mountain.” In Lent, we are down in the valley – with our Lord and one another. We are mindful of the words of the great King David in the 23rd Psalm: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”
So, let the journey begin! In tonight’s Gospel, our Lord highlights disciplines, practices, or spiritual exercises that are helpful not only in Lent but throughout our entire lives.
But He prefaces His remarks with a warning. He says: “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them.” There is no reward in that, He says. He’s not saying that you can’t practice your righteousness. He’s not saying that you can’t express or confess or live your faith at all. He’s operating under the assumption that you will express, confess, and live your faith. He’s zeroing in on the whole question of motive. If our motive in expressing and living the faith is to be seen by others and to pick up spiritual brownie points for ourselves and gets kudos from other folks for how wonderful and upright, moral, and beyond reproach we are, we’ve got it way wrong!
Jesus says: “When you give to the needy, don’t announce it with trumpets.” He doesn’t say “If you give to the needy.” He says “When you give to the needy.” He assumes His followers, you and I, are going to be charitable. But again, we’re back at the whole motive thing. We don’t engage in charitable giving to get a pat on the back for our generosity or to boost are sagging egos. He says that when you “give to the needy, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret.”
Now comes the whole matter of prayer. Lent is a prime time to renew our devotion to daily meditation and prayer. But the idea, again, is to do it privately – or, as in the words of Jesus, “in secret.” Here at FPC, we’ve provided some great devotional material for meditation and prayer during Lent. But if and how and when and where you use them or don’t use them is not something that we need to talk about. Do you get what I’m saying?
Next comes the whole matter of fasting – or, as it is occasionally asked, “What are you giving up for Lent?” The minute you answer that question, you’ve torpedoed what Jesus was getting at. Again, He’s not saying that you should not make a sacrifice. He just wants to make sure our motives are right. We’re not giving something up so that we can shout to the world what a wonderful sacrifice we’ve made. Jesus goes as far as to say that He wants it to look like we’re giving up nothing at all.
Finally, Jesus considers the practice of storing up treasure. Again, He’s not saying you shouldn’t do it. He does have a thing or two to say about where to do it. Listen to this: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”
I think it safe to say that there are times when we worry ourselves sick about storing up treasures on earth. We earn; we spend; we budget; we do financial planning; we set up wills; we try to avoid the taxman; we spend money for expert opinion on how to invest; we cross our fingers and hope that our 401K and our Social Security will hold up, and that the moth and the vermin and the thieves won’t eat or steal the little pile of cheese we’ve managed to store up. “But,” says Jesus, “what would it profit a person if he/she gains the whole world” – with every conceivable golden parachute ever conceived of or offered – “but forfeit your own soul?”
At the end of The Season of Lent, we’re going to see once more how valuable we are to our Creator. We will take careful note of the investment God made in us. The Gospel says that, in Jesus Christ, God invested His life! The more we realize this, the more our heavenly stock portfolio rises – not because of who we are or what we did, but because of what God did for us.
And in the meantime, in this Season of Lent, and quietly and consistently and, at times, even secretly, throughout our lives, we get to pay it forward.
“Freely you have received,” says Jesus. “Freely give.”
Amen.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Small g
Text: 2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Theme: “Small g”
The Transfiguration of The Lord
February 19, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
3 And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4 The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5 For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
“The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel,” says the apostle Paul in the reading I just shared. My eyes did the double-take. The word “god” does not begin with a capital G. In reading or writing about God, the G in God is always capitalized and refers to our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier; the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
But here we note the lower-case, the small g. Again, the apostle writes of the “god (small g) of this age. …” Most scholars conclude that Paul is referring to Satan, the devil, or, if you will, the power of evil in the world.
Many modern intellectuals think that this is all a bunch of nonsense. To speak of a Satan, a devil, a force of evil, or a god of this age is the stuff of a bygone era. It’s the product of an ancient age that was unenlightened. It’s all myth and superstition; it has long since been disproved.
But just who exactly is unenlightened? “The god of this aged has blinded the minds of unbelievers,” writes the apostle, “so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” Earlier, he remarked: “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.”
“People are perishing?” asks the modern mind. “That sounds nasty; that sounds judgmental. God is love, and so there’s no room for any hint of isolating another human being and even hinting or suggesting that they are perishing.” Why not, along with John Lennon, imagine that there’s no heaven; imagine that there’s no hell; imagine that people can live life in peace. That’s about the best we can hope for.
That’s all very nice, but people are perishing. I’m a person in recovery; I have friends who are in recovery; I could tell stories all day long about people who were in the process of perishing due to their alcoholism or their addiction. In my experience in ministry, I’ve stood at many gravesides. Some of those experiences still haunt me to the core. There was a mother. Her son, with a record of alcohol and drug abuse, hung himself. I stood at the cemetery as the deceased’s friends, part of a motorcycle club, brought a wreath made of Budweiser cans. There was another mother. Her son had taken his own life after taking the life of his girlfriend. All across this country and even right now, hotel and motel rooms throughout the USA are inhabited by people who have only the clothes on their back, the booze or the pills in their bottle, or the drugs in their syringe. Ask them if they’re perishing, and they’d say “You bet we are; we can’t stand the pain anymore.”
This morning, after ten years in recovery, I’m grateful that I didn’t come this point of perishing. All I have is a daily reprieve that is based on maintaining my spiritual fitness. But I can tell you that, for more years than I care to admit, my mind was blinded. Using the language of our text, the “gospel was veiled” to me. Oh, I had heard it; I’d studied it all my life – at home, at Sunday school, at seminary; I had carefully formulated thoughts about it; further yet, I had strong beliefs about God; I had memorized the hymns; I played them on the piano. I was a fine young Lutheran man, a man of God in the prime of life, and I honored my father, my mother, my family, and my church. I could recite sections of Luther’s Small Catechism by heart, hold forth on the propriety or impropriety of the Eucharistic prayer, translate Latin phrases into English. I thought I could fool everyone into thinking that I was just fine, that all my ducks were lined up in a row, that my life was just grand. But I knew something in my blinded brain that I would never tell you or anyone else. Slowly, gradually, I was leading a life of time-released suicide; I was heading to that that thirty dollar a night hotel room (like across the street) where I would be alone, penniless, armed with my bottle or my drugs, and faced with a choice. So when all these wizards of smart out there tell me that to even talk about a “god of this age” or a “force of evil” that is intent on alienating people from God and others, and trying to kill people, I’m sorry but I beg to differ. I’ll take a pass on thinking like that.
Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord. That’s a mouthful; I know. Transfiguration is basically the halfway point between Christmas, the Feast of the Nativity of our Lord, and Easter, the Feast of the Resurrection of our Lord. At Christmas, the glory came shining down on those lowly shepherds on the rolling hills outside Bethlehem. The herald angel makes the announcement: “Unto you this day is born, in the city of David, a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” At Easter, the angel stood in glorious light at an empty grave only to announce that Jesus was not there, for He had risen from the dead as He said. And at the Transfiguration, between His birth and resurrection, there stands Jesus on a mountain, talking with Moses and Elijah, the representatives of the Law and the Prophets, amid a breathtaking, supernatural blast of glory.
Peter, the disciple of Jesus, like so many of us, likes his glory when he can get it. He wants it go on and on and on. “Let us set up three tents,” he says. But then, the glorious site was veiled to him by a cloud; the moment was over. Then came a still, small voice: “This is my Son; listen to Him.”
In my preparation for today, I came across a pretty cool definition of a Christian in one of my commentaries. This person said: “Being a Christian is to think it through and then take the leap anyway.”
During recovery, the veil over my heart was lifted. I got to think it through – not in theory, but in terms of my own life. By the grace of God alone, I was able to take the leap. And I discovered something else. It’s not about me – at all. Christians have wonderful testimonies. Christians in recovery from alcoholism and addiction have them too. Even the great saints of the Bible could share – and did share – their personal testimonies of God in their lives. They, in so many words, talk about when the light, the glory finally shone in their heart, and this is great!
But you and I are not called on to be examples. We’re called on to be servants. We live outside of ourselves. We live in God by faith; we live in our neighbor by love. I hope I didn’t mess up the meaning of today’s text by telling a bit of my personal story. My intent was only to use it to illustrate that there is a god of this age, that there is a veil, that minds can be blinded. People are perishing.
But there also is a message, a gospel, a good and great news. Minds can open; the veil can be lifted; the light of glory can shine. When that happens, the heart, too, opens, and the light shines there.
Our text is so very far removed from my poor power to add or detract from it with my testimony. The last word belongs to our Lord’s apostle:
For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
Amen.
Theme: “Small g”
The Transfiguration of The Lord
February 19, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
3 And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4 The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5 For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
“The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel,” says the apostle Paul in the reading I just shared. My eyes did the double-take. The word “god” does not begin with a capital G. In reading or writing about God, the G in God is always capitalized and refers to our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier; the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
But here we note the lower-case, the small g. Again, the apostle writes of the “god (small g) of this age. …” Most scholars conclude that Paul is referring to Satan, the devil, or, if you will, the power of evil in the world.
Many modern intellectuals think that this is all a bunch of nonsense. To speak of a Satan, a devil, a force of evil, or a god of this age is the stuff of a bygone era. It’s the product of an ancient age that was unenlightened. It’s all myth and superstition; it has long since been disproved.
But just who exactly is unenlightened? “The god of this aged has blinded the minds of unbelievers,” writes the apostle, “so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” Earlier, he remarked: “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.”
“People are perishing?” asks the modern mind. “That sounds nasty; that sounds judgmental. God is love, and so there’s no room for any hint of isolating another human being and even hinting or suggesting that they are perishing.” Why not, along with John Lennon, imagine that there’s no heaven; imagine that there’s no hell; imagine that people can live life in peace. That’s about the best we can hope for.
That’s all very nice, but people are perishing. I’m a person in recovery; I have friends who are in recovery; I could tell stories all day long about people who were in the process of perishing due to their alcoholism or their addiction. In my experience in ministry, I’ve stood at many gravesides. Some of those experiences still haunt me to the core. There was a mother. Her son, with a record of alcohol and drug abuse, hung himself. I stood at the cemetery as the deceased’s friends, part of a motorcycle club, brought a wreath made of Budweiser cans. There was another mother. Her son had taken his own life after taking the life of his girlfriend. All across this country and even right now, hotel and motel rooms throughout the USA are inhabited by people who have only the clothes on their back, the booze or the pills in their bottle, or the drugs in their syringe. Ask them if they’re perishing, and they’d say “You bet we are; we can’t stand the pain anymore.”
This morning, after ten years in recovery, I’m grateful that I didn’t come this point of perishing. All I have is a daily reprieve that is based on maintaining my spiritual fitness. But I can tell you that, for more years than I care to admit, my mind was blinded. Using the language of our text, the “gospel was veiled” to me. Oh, I had heard it; I’d studied it all my life – at home, at Sunday school, at seminary; I had carefully formulated thoughts about it; further yet, I had strong beliefs about God; I had memorized the hymns; I played them on the piano. I was a fine young Lutheran man, a man of God in the prime of life, and I honored my father, my mother, my family, and my church. I could recite sections of Luther’s Small Catechism by heart, hold forth on the propriety or impropriety of the Eucharistic prayer, translate Latin phrases into English. I thought I could fool everyone into thinking that I was just fine, that all my ducks were lined up in a row, that my life was just grand. But I knew something in my blinded brain that I would never tell you or anyone else. Slowly, gradually, I was leading a life of time-released suicide; I was heading to that that thirty dollar a night hotel room (like across the street) where I would be alone, penniless, armed with my bottle or my drugs, and faced with a choice. So when all these wizards of smart out there tell me that to even talk about a “god of this age” or a “force of evil” that is intent on alienating people from God and others, and trying to kill people, I’m sorry but I beg to differ. I’ll take a pass on thinking like that.
Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord. That’s a mouthful; I know. Transfiguration is basically the halfway point between Christmas, the Feast of the Nativity of our Lord, and Easter, the Feast of the Resurrection of our Lord. At Christmas, the glory came shining down on those lowly shepherds on the rolling hills outside Bethlehem. The herald angel makes the announcement: “Unto you this day is born, in the city of David, a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” At Easter, the angel stood in glorious light at an empty grave only to announce that Jesus was not there, for He had risen from the dead as He said. And at the Transfiguration, between His birth and resurrection, there stands Jesus on a mountain, talking with Moses and Elijah, the representatives of the Law and the Prophets, amid a breathtaking, supernatural blast of glory.
Peter, the disciple of Jesus, like so many of us, likes his glory when he can get it. He wants it go on and on and on. “Let us set up three tents,” he says. But then, the glorious site was veiled to him by a cloud; the moment was over. Then came a still, small voice: “This is my Son; listen to Him.”
In my preparation for today, I came across a pretty cool definition of a Christian in one of my commentaries. This person said: “Being a Christian is to think it through and then take the leap anyway.”
During recovery, the veil over my heart was lifted. I got to think it through – not in theory, but in terms of my own life. By the grace of God alone, I was able to take the leap. And I discovered something else. It’s not about me – at all. Christians have wonderful testimonies. Christians in recovery from alcoholism and addiction have them too. Even the great saints of the Bible could share – and did share – their personal testimonies of God in their lives. They, in so many words, talk about when the light, the glory finally shone in their heart, and this is great!
But you and I are not called on to be examples. We’re called on to be servants. We live outside of ourselves. We live in God by faith; we live in our neighbor by love. I hope I didn’t mess up the meaning of today’s text by telling a bit of my personal story. My intent was only to use it to illustrate that there is a god of this age, that there is a veil, that minds can be blinded. People are perishing.
But there also is a message, a gospel, a good and great news. Minds can open; the veil can be lifted; the light of glory can shine. When that happens, the heart, too, opens, and the light shines there.
Our text is so very far removed from my poor power to add or detract from it with my testimony. The last word belongs to our Lord’s apostle:
For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
Amen.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Command and Control
Text: 2 Kings 5:1-14
Theme: “Command and Control”
6th Sunday after the Epiphany
February 12, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 Now Naaman was commander of the army of the king of Aram. He was a great man in the sight of his master and highly regarded, because through him the LORD had given victory to Aram. He was a valiant soldier, but he had leprosy.[a]
2 Now bands of raiders from Aram had gone out and had taken captive a young girl from Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. 3 She said to her mistress, “If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”
4 Naaman went to his master and told him what the girl from Israel had said. 5 “By all means, go,” the king of Aram replied. “I will send a letter to the king of Israel.” So Naaman left, taking with him ten talents[b] of silver, six thousand shekels[c] of gold and ten sets of clothing. 6 The letter that he took to the king of Israel read: “With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of his leprosy.”
7 As soon as the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his robes and said, “Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy? See how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me!”
8 When Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his robes, he sent him this message: “Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel.” 9 So Naaman went with his horses and chariots and stopped at the door of Elisha’s house. 10 Elisha sent a messenger to say to him, “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.”
11 But Naaman went away angry and said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy. 12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?” So he turned and went off in a rage.
13 Naaman’s servants went to him and said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed’!” 14 So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.
The title of the song, in its English translation from the original French, is “As Usual.” First recorded in 1967 by French singer Claude Francois, “As Usual” tells the story of a man who had become bored with his relationships and with his existence in general. He thought his life was ending. This song became a hit in Europe.
Paul Anka, an American singer and song-writer visited France about at this time and became aware of the song. He tossed the words around in his head, and, upon returning to New York City, he re-wrote the lyrics and gave them a more positive spin. At the time, his good friend, the incredibly talented Frank Sinatra, was going through something of a career crisis. Anka, excited about his re-write and the tune of the piece, contacted Sinatra, and (long story short) Sinatra recorded it. “As Usual”, now titled “My Way”, became one of Sinatra’s signature songs. Anka’s lyrics had changed the meaning to be about a man looking back fondly on a life he lived on his own terms.
A powerful line from the songs goes as follows:
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!
These words fit the life of one of the main characters in today’s Old Testament reading to a T. We are told of Naaman, the commander of the Syrian army. Interestingly, we’ve heard of Syria in the news recently as there is unrest in the regime of Syria’s current leader, Assad. But nearly three thousand years ago in Syria, there was no unrest. All was well. The credit, in no small part, was due to Naaman. His boss, the king, gave him high marks. We are told he was a valiant soldier. He jumps off the pages of Scripture as a man among men, a profound leader, a warrior. When he said “jump”, his men would go “how high”? When he gave an order, it was obeyed without question. People liked him; he had served his nation well. The Scripture declares that God had given Syria victory through this man. Naaman was accustomed to command and control – of people, of his army, of any situation that came his way. He would appropriate to himself the words of the song: “The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!”
But there was one problem in his otherwise perfect world. He was sick. He had a disease, an awful and horrible disease – even a socially stigmatizing, ostracizing, and embarrassing disease. It was called leprosy. It was a progressive condition that affected the skin. Even worse, he wasn’t able to command it or control it. Valiant warrior that he was, he could push back foreign armies; he could win decisive victories. But he was powerless over this.
The nation of Israel and the nation of Syria (served by Naaman) were relatively at peace with one another at the time, although were tensions. It was an uneasy peace. Richard Nixon once said that there are two kinds of peace: real peace and perfect peace. Real peace is the absence of war. Perfect peace is the absence of conflict. Real peace can be achieved in our world, he thought. But perfect peace, he surmised, could never happen, for there will always be conflict. There were conflicts then between Israel and Syria. Minor border skirmishes broke out here and there. During one such skirmish, the Syrians took a captive young girl from Israel. To make a long story short, this young girl became a servant/slave to Commander Naaman’s wife.
She said to Mrs. Naaman at one point, “If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria. He would cure him of his leprosy.” It was just a suggestion. In fact, that is all she could offer. This little girl had no command or control over anyone or anything. She was a slave. Someone else owned her identity. Nevertheless, she puts forth a possibility. And apparently Naaman, the man of command and control who had no command or control over the leprosy, was willing to do anything to be rid of this terrible disease.
Naaman went to his king, to his commander in chief, and told him what the little slave had said. The king, in turn, wrote a diplomatic letter to the king of Israel, presumably asking to allow this foreign warrior to visit Israel. To use popular language, Naaman not only had government health insurance, he had what we might call a “Cadillac” policy. He took ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold and ten sets of clothing. That’s a ton of money and resources. He would do whatever it took – the sky is the limit! name your price and I’ll pay it! – to be rid of this leprosy. The Syrian King told the Israelite King that Naaman was on his way.
Now, the King of Israel, himself accustomed to being in command and control like political and governmental figures in our day, was not pleased with the letter from Syria. He thought there was a hidden agenda. Perhaps he was being tricked. He thought it was a political ploy. He didn’t take the letter sitting down. He tore off his robes in anger and said: “Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy?” He perceived the letter as a threat to the command and control he had. How do you like it when you’re faced with a threat – real or perceived – to the command and control of your own life?
The Israelite king was a political figure. But meanwhile, just up the road, there lived a religious figure – a prophet, to be precise, named Elisha. Elisha heard about the king having a meltdown. He fires off what we would today call an email to the King: “Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel.”
Protocols were observed; the chain of command worked. Fast-forward a bit, and we see Naaman – with his horses, chariots, and military entourage – pulling up to the house of Elisha the prophet.
But Elisha – the religious figure and prophet of almighty God – didn’t even bother to answer the doorbell. In a stunning lack of common courtesy, with a not-so-veiled attempt to maintain what command and control he thought he had, he sent a messenger to Naaman with the following directions: “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.”
Now it was Naaman’s turn to have a meltdown. He left the front door in a rage and said“I thought he would surely come out to me (in other words, “extend me some courtesy”) and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy.” “Good grief,” he must have thought. “Are not the Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than any of the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them?”
Naaman got ready to leave. But his servants caught up with him. One of them said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to some great thing, would you not have done it? (In other words, “You’re a man of command and control; you can do anything!)
It was good advice, and Naaman followed it. Swallowing his pride, he went down and dipped himself in the muddy Jordan River seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored. We are told his skin became clean – “like that of a young boy.”
Now I ask you: who is the main character in this story? Think of the command and control types, the powerful ones. Consider Commander Naaman, or Naaman’s wife, or the King of Syria, or the King of Israel. Are they the real “movers and shakers” in this story? What’s the moral of the story? Who sets the best example? Who really is in command and control of the narrative? Someone gives the default answer, the good Presbyterian answer, and says: “Well, God is in control as always.” Yes, that’s true. But who does God use?
There are at least two people, and they’re the easiest ones to overlook. They’re easy to overlook because they have no command or control. They are slaves and servants – a little Israelite girl who had been kidnapped, the slave to Naaman’s wife, and the other lowly servants of Naaman himself who were in his entourage. And all these easy to overlook slaves and servants did was SUGGEST. The little girl suggested that Naaman go see Elisha. The other servants of Naaman suggested that Naaman do what the Elisha said. It was the power of suggestion – and it didn’t come from the wizards of smart; it didn’t come from the ranks of the elite or the educated; it didn’t come from command and control types. It came from the least likely place.
The leprosy shows up in today’s Gospel Reading from Mark. Did you catch it? The diseased person, certainly not a command and control type, offers a suggestion to Jesus. “If you choose,” he says, “you can cleanse me.” Jesus, moved to his core with anger at the disease and its ramifications and filled with compassion for this leper, touches the man. The man is healed, cleansed. To even touch a person with leprosy was to become unclean yourself. Jesus becomes unclean so that the leper can become free.
Carry this through. Jesus becomes the sin, so that we can be forgiven, be free.
As Christ’s followers, we have absolutely no command and control as the world today understands it. We are the little slave girl. We are the servants of Naaman. We are the leper that came to Jesus. And all we have is a suggestion to this world of command and control. It’s God who is ultimately in charge. It is God who, in Jesus Christ, is love.
Amen.
Theme: “Command and Control”
6th Sunday after the Epiphany
February 12, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 Now Naaman was commander of the army of the king of Aram. He was a great man in the sight of his master and highly regarded, because through him the LORD had given victory to Aram. He was a valiant soldier, but he had leprosy.[a]
2 Now bands of raiders from Aram had gone out and had taken captive a young girl from Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. 3 She said to her mistress, “If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”
4 Naaman went to his master and told him what the girl from Israel had said. 5 “By all means, go,” the king of Aram replied. “I will send a letter to the king of Israel.” So Naaman left, taking with him ten talents[b] of silver, six thousand shekels[c] of gold and ten sets of clothing. 6 The letter that he took to the king of Israel read: “With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of his leprosy.”
7 As soon as the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his robes and said, “Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy? See how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me!”
8 When Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his robes, he sent him this message: “Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel.” 9 So Naaman went with his horses and chariots and stopped at the door of Elisha’s house. 10 Elisha sent a messenger to say to him, “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.”
11 But Naaman went away angry and said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy. 12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?” So he turned and went off in a rage.
13 Naaman’s servants went to him and said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed’!” 14 So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.
The title of the song, in its English translation from the original French, is “As Usual.” First recorded in 1967 by French singer Claude Francois, “As Usual” tells the story of a man who had become bored with his relationships and with his existence in general. He thought his life was ending. This song became a hit in Europe.
Paul Anka, an American singer and song-writer visited France about at this time and became aware of the song. He tossed the words around in his head, and, upon returning to New York City, he re-wrote the lyrics and gave them a more positive spin. At the time, his good friend, the incredibly talented Frank Sinatra, was going through something of a career crisis. Anka, excited about his re-write and the tune of the piece, contacted Sinatra, and (long story short) Sinatra recorded it. “As Usual”, now titled “My Way”, became one of Sinatra’s signature songs. Anka’s lyrics had changed the meaning to be about a man looking back fondly on a life he lived on his own terms.
A powerful line from the songs goes as follows:
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!
These words fit the life of one of the main characters in today’s Old Testament reading to a T. We are told of Naaman, the commander of the Syrian army. Interestingly, we’ve heard of Syria in the news recently as there is unrest in the regime of Syria’s current leader, Assad. But nearly three thousand years ago in Syria, there was no unrest. All was well. The credit, in no small part, was due to Naaman. His boss, the king, gave him high marks. We are told he was a valiant soldier. He jumps off the pages of Scripture as a man among men, a profound leader, a warrior. When he said “jump”, his men would go “how high”? When he gave an order, it was obeyed without question. People liked him; he had served his nation well. The Scripture declares that God had given Syria victory through this man. Naaman was accustomed to command and control – of people, of his army, of any situation that came his way. He would appropriate to himself the words of the song: “The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!”
But there was one problem in his otherwise perfect world. He was sick. He had a disease, an awful and horrible disease – even a socially stigmatizing, ostracizing, and embarrassing disease. It was called leprosy. It was a progressive condition that affected the skin. Even worse, he wasn’t able to command it or control it. Valiant warrior that he was, he could push back foreign armies; he could win decisive victories. But he was powerless over this.
The nation of Israel and the nation of Syria (served by Naaman) were relatively at peace with one another at the time, although were tensions. It was an uneasy peace. Richard Nixon once said that there are two kinds of peace: real peace and perfect peace. Real peace is the absence of war. Perfect peace is the absence of conflict. Real peace can be achieved in our world, he thought. But perfect peace, he surmised, could never happen, for there will always be conflict. There were conflicts then between Israel and Syria. Minor border skirmishes broke out here and there. During one such skirmish, the Syrians took a captive young girl from Israel. To make a long story short, this young girl became a servant/slave to Commander Naaman’s wife.
She said to Mrs. Naaman at one point, “If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria. He would cure him of his leprosy.” It was just a suggestion. In fact, that is all she could offer. This little girl had no command or control over anyone or anything. She was a slave. Someone else owned her identity. Nevertheless, she puts forth a possibility. And apparently Naaman, the man of command and control who had no command or control over the leprosy, was willing to do anything to be rid of this terrible disease.
Naaman went to his king, to his commander in chief, and told him what the little slave had said. The king, in turn, wrote a diplomatic letter to the king of Israel, presumably asking to allow this foreign warrior to visit Israel. To use popular language, Naaman not only had government health insurance, he had what we might call a “Cadillac” policy. He took ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold and ten sets of clothing. That’s a ton of money and resources. He would do whatever it took – the sky is the limit! name your price and I’ll pay it! – to be rid of this leprosy. The Syrian King told the Israelite King that Naaman was on his way.
Now, the King of Israel, himself accustomed to being in command and control like political and governmental figures in our day, was not pleased with the letter from Syria. He thought there was a hidden agenda. Perhaps he was being tricked. He thought it was a political ploy. He didn’t take the letter sitting down. He tore off his robes in anger and said: “Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy?” He perceived the letter as a threat to the command and control he had. How do you like it when you’re faced with a threat – real or perceived – to the command and control of your own life?
The Israelite king was a political figure. But meanwhile, just up the road, there lived a religious figure – a prophet, to be precise, named Elisha. Elisha heard about the king having a meltdown. He fires off what we would today call an email to the King: “Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel.”
Protocols were observed; the chain of command worked. Fast-forward a bit, and we see Naaman – with his horses, chariots, and military entourage – pulling up to the house of Elisha the prophet.
But Elisha – the religious figure and prophet of almighty God – didn’t even bother to answer the doorbell. In a stunning lack of common courtesy, with a not-so-veiled attempt to maintain what command and control he thought he had, he sent a messenger to Naaman with the following directions: “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.”
Now it was Naaman’s turn to have a meltdown. He left the front door in a rage and said“I thought he would surely come out to me (in other words, “extend me some courtesy”) and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy.” “Good grief,” he must have thought. “Are not the Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than any of the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them?”
Naaman got ready to leave. But his servants caught up with him. One of them said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to some great thing, would you not have done it? (In other words, “You’re a man of command and control; you can do anything!)
It was good advice, and Naaman followed it. Swallowing his pride, he went down and dipped himself in the muddy Jordan River seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored. We are told his skin became clean – “like that of a young boy.”
Now I ask you: who is the main character in this story? Think of the command and control types, the powerful ones. Consider Commander Naaman, or Naaman’s wife, or the King of Syria, or the King of Israel. Are they the real “movers and shakers” in this story? What’s the moral of the story? Who sets the best example? Who really is in command and control of the narrative? Someone gives the default answer, the good Presbyterian answer, and says: “Well, God is in control as always.” Yes, that’s true. But who does God use?
There are at least two people, and they’re the easiest ones to overlook. They’re easy to overlook because they have no command or control. They are slaves and servants – a little Israelite girl who had been kidnapped, the slave to Naaman’s wife, and the other lowly servants of Naaman himself who were in his entourage. And all these easy to overlook slaves and servants did was SUGGEST. The little girl suggested that Naaman go see Elisha. The other servants of Naaman suggested that Naaman do what the Elisha said. It was the power of suggestion – and it didn’t come from the wizards of smart; it didn’t come from the ranks of the elite or the educated; it didn’t come from command and control types. It came from the least likely place.
The leprosy shows up in today’s Gospel Reading from Mark. Did you catch it? The diseased person, certainly not a command and control type, offers a suggestion to Jesus. “If you choose,” he says, “you can cleanse me.” Jesus, moved to his core with anger at the disease and its ramifications and filled with compassion for this leper, touches the man. The man is healed, cleansed. To even touch a person with leprosy was to become unclean yourself. Jesus becomes unclean so that the leper can become free.
Carry this through. Jesus becomes the sin, so that we can be forgiven, be free.
As Christ’s followers, we have absolutely no command and control as the world today understands it. We are the little slave girl. We are the servants of Naaman. We are the leper that came to Jesus. And all we have is a suggestion to this world of command and control. It’s God who is ultimately in charge. It is God who, in Jesus Christ, is love.
Amen.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A Day in The Life of Jesus
Text: Mark 1:29-39
Theme: “A Day in the Life of Jesus”
5th Sunday after the Epiphany
February 5, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
29 As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. 30 Simon's mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told Jesus about her. 31 So he went to her, took her hand and helped her up. The fever left her and she began to wait on them. 32 That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. 33 The whole town gathered at the door, 34 and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.
35 Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. 36 Simon and his companions went to look for him, 37 and when they found him, they exclaimed: "Everyone is looking for you!" 38 Jesus replied, "Let us go somewhere else--to the nearby villages--so I can preach there also. That is why I have come." 39 So he traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons.
Were it not for Jesus Christ and the good news of His Kingdom, I would know far fewer people than I know today. This is one of the perks about being a Christian that folks don’t talk about much; that is, you meet individuals that you probably never would have met. When you start thinking about this, it seems almost miraculous. Perhaps it is!
While studying this text that I just read, I remembered a good friend that I met shortly after I became part of the Presbyterian tradition. He’s an energetic, one-of-a-kind, genuinely friendly man, a marketing professor at UNT, who has a penchant for travel. He’s gone on more than one trip to Guatemala. He’s ventured to the Holy Land. He shared with me his experiences when he was far across the globe in the land where Jesus walked. Many of the sites – in Bethlehem where Jesus was born and Jerusalem where Jesus died, to name just two – have become commercialized or “touristy”, as he said. Locations where certain events in the life of Jesus took place are called the “traditional location” or the “actual location”, and there are instances when one can’t be sure of either location.
But there is at least one area in the holy land, as it is called, where there’s no; doubt. There is no formal tourism industry there. There are no hawkish souvenir shops at every corner. But there are excavations. Archaeologists, to this day, are continuing their work on the synagogue and an ancient house. I speak of the synagogue in Capernaum and the house, only footsteps away from the synagogue, that belonged to Simon and Andrew, the fishermen, and their families.
Do any of you have a “bucket list”? I do. A trip to the town mentioned in today’s Gospel is on my list. Capernaum was a fishing village on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee. Based on the Gospel accounts, it ended up being the northern base of operations for Jesus. By all accounts, Simon and Andrew and their colleagues had a business that was both “blue collar” and lucrative. If you have a Google Earth or Google Map application on your computer, iPad, or smartphone, you can actually zero in on Capernaum via satellite and the see the places that are mentioned in today’s reading. Here’s another thing I like about Christianity: it doesn’t go on in never-never land. We’re talking about real places, real events, and real people.
Today’s Gospel reading, linked with last week’s Gospel reading, gives us a day in the life of Jesus. Prior to this, Jesus had called his first disciples – Simon and and Andrew, and James and John, the sons of Zebedee. They were all hard-scrabble fishermen, based in Capernaum, who left their nets to follow the Lord.
It was a Sabbath day when this grouping of men went into town with their new friend, Jesus. Jesus headed for the local synagogue. Elsewhere in the Gospels, it says that it was Jesus’ “custom” to go synagogue on the Sabbath day. It wasn’t because He had to; it wasn’t because He wanted to. It was simply His ingrained habit.
On that day, presumably in the morning, he began to teach. People were amazed at what He said. He was actually heckled that day by a man with an unclean spirit. “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” asked the man. “Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are -- the Holy One of God.” Jesus exorcised the demon. His Word had a power all its own. People were amazed, really amazed, and the news about Jesus – what He was saying and what he was doing – began to spread like wildfire.
The next stop on this day in the life was right next door. Mark’s Gospel reports: “As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. Based on images of the excavation of this home, it is maybe about two-thirds the size of this sanctuary. It’s not very big at all. It’s about the size of one of those ranch-style homes you see on Carroll Boulevard.
We discover, upon entering, that there is one person who missed church because she was sick. She had a fever. So, by all means, stay in bed. It was Simon’s mother-in-law. They told Jesus about her, and Jesus went straight to her bedside. He didn’t sit in the corner and twiddle his thumbs waiting for his hosts to take the initiative; He assumed the freedom of the house. There was no hesitancy. He goes to her. They don’t bring her to him. There was nothing more important, in all the world, at that time, then for Him to be there just for her With all of Himself, He is there just for her. He clasped her hand and helped her up and out of bed. The fever, we are told, left her. The body temp was back to a healthy 98.6.
And mother-in-law doesn’t respond to all this with a “Hip, Hip Hooray”, “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah”, or “Praise be to Jesus.” There is no excessive celebration, no pious, verbal effusions that can become literally nauseating.. She doesn’t “high five” our Lord or do what some NFL receivers do when they catch a touchdown pass from Tom Brady or Eli Manning. She doesn’t strike the Heisman pose! Instead, she serves them. That’s what the epiphany, the disclosure, the manifestation of Jesus does for her: she served them. She brought out the drinks and the snacks -- the Doritos, the peanuts, the party mix, the cheese tray, and the fresh fruits, if you will. She set the table. Perhaps she pulled out her favorite recipe. She did what she could do, what was right there for her to do. She served them. She would never be the same. She knew to whom she was precious. The kingdom of God had come to her in the form of this man who was the new friend of her son-in-law and his brother and the other BFF’s. In Mark’s telling of the story of Jesus, this nameless mother-in-law became the first deacon, the first servant.
The same goes for Jesus. “I am among you as one who serves,” He said. “He who would be great among you,” Jesus exclaimed, “must first be your servant.” Jesus embodied the truth that he came “not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”
There is mention of a door in the reading. Doors keep people in and can keep people out. They can even have a sign that says “No soliciting.” This door was open. We read of the events later in this day: “That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed.” They solicited His gracious, healing attention. “The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.”
Later on, in the dark of night, toward the end of the day and the beginning of a new one, Jesus quietly slipped out of the house and went off, we are told, to a “solitary place where he prayed.”
This is not a bad idea: to end the day or begin a new one at a solitary place having chat with the Lord, or, as I like to say, “checking in with headquarters.” Life, with its activities both old and new, will catch up with you soon enough.
It caught up with Jesus. They came looking for him. That’s a rather polite translation. Closer to the original language is this: they hunted him down. They find Him and they say: “Everyone is looking for you.” Have you ever had moments in your life when you feel as though everyone is looking for you? We all have. We can sympathize with the sentiment of the actress Greta Garbo who once said: “I vant to be alone!”
Jesus replies: “Let us go somewhere else – to the nearby villages – so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” Jesus never let his celebrity, if you will, get in the way of His mission.
So a day in the life ends and a new one begins. And the constant – way back when on that day and this day too! – is Jesus.
The Spirit of Jesus is among us today – serving as always. What joy it is to be served, this day, with the very best – the bread and the wine, the body and blood of Christ, given and shed for the forgiveness of our sins.
With the Lord begin thy task, Jesus will direct it;
For His aid and counsel ask, Jesus will perfect it.
Every morn with Jesus rise, and when day is ended,
In His Name then close thine eyes; be to Him commended.
Amen.
Theme: “A Day in the Life of Jesus”
5th Sunday after the Epiphany
February 5, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
29 As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. 30 Simon's mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told Jesus about her. 31 So he went to her, took her hand and helped her up. The fever left her and she began to wait on them. 32 That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. 33 The whole town gathered at the door, 34 and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.
35 Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. 36 Simon and his companions went to look for him, 37 and when they found him, they exclaimed: "Everyone is looking for you!" 38 Jesus replied, "Let us go somewhere else--to the nearby villages--so I can preach there also. That is why I have come." 39 So he traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons.
Were it not for Jesus Christ and the good news of His Kingdom, I would know far fewer people than I know today. This is one of the perks about being a Christian that folks don’t talk about much; that is, you meet individuals that you probably never would have met. When you start thinking about this, it seems almost miraculous. Perhaps it is!
While studying this text that I just read, I remembered a good friend that I met shortly after I became part of the Presbyterian tradition. He’s an energetic, one-of-a-kind, genuinely friendly man, a marketing professor at UNT, who has a penchant for travel. He’s gone on more than one trip to Guatemala. He’s ventured to the Holy Land. He shared with me his experiences when he was far across the globe in the land where Jesus walked. Many of the sites – in Bethlehem where Jesus was born and Jerusalem where Jesus died, to name just two – have become commercialized or “touristy”, as he said. Locations where certain events in the life of Jesus took place are called the “traditional location” or the “actual location”, and there are instances when one can’t be sure of either location.
But there is at least one area in the holy land, as it is called, where there’s no; doubt. There is no formal tourism industry there. There are no hawkish souvenir shops at every corner. But there are excavations. Archaeologists, to this day, are continuing their work on the synagogue and an ancient house. I speak of the synagogue in Capernaum and the house, only footsteps away from the synagogue, that belonged to Simon and Andrew, the fishermen, and their families.
Do any of you have a “bucket list”? I do. A trip to the town mentioned in today’s Gospel is on my list. Capernaum was a fishing village on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee. Based on the Gospel accounts, it ended up being the northern base of operations for Jesus. By all accounts, Simon and Andrew and their colleagues had a business that was both “blue collar” and lucrative. If you have a Google Earth or Google Map application on your computer, iPad, or smartphone, you can actually zero in on Capernaum via satellite and the see the places that are mentioned in today’s reading. Here’s another thing I like about Christianity: it doesn’t go on in never-never land. We’re talking about real places, real events, and real people.
Today’s Gospel reading, linked with last week’s Gospel reading, gives us a day in the life of Jesus. Prior to this, Jesus had called his first disciples – Simon and and Andrew, and James and John, the sons of Zebedee. They were all hard-scrabble fishermen, based in Capernaum, who left their nets to follow the Lord.
It was a Sabbath day when this grouping of men went into town with their new friend, Jesus. Jesus headed for the local synagogue. Elsewhere in the Gospels, it says that it was Jesus’ “custom” to go synagogue on the Sabbath day. It wasn’t because He had to; it wasn’t because He wanted to. It was simply His ingrained habit.
On that day, presumably in the morning, he began to teach. People were amazed at what He said. He was actually heckled that day by a man with an unclean spirit. “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” asked the man. “Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are -- the Holy One of God.” Jesus exorcised the demon. His Word had a power all its own. People were amazed, really amazed, and the news about Jesus – what He was saying and what he was doing – began to spread like wildfire.
The next stop on this day in the life was right next door. Mark’s Gospel reports: “As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. Based on images of the excavation of this home, it is maybe about two-thirds the size of this sanctuary. It’s not very big at all. It’s about the size of one of those ranch-style homes you see on Carroll Boulevard.
We discover, upon entering, that there is one person who missed church because she was sick. She had a fever. So, by all means, stay in bed. It was Simon’s mother-in-law. They told Jesus about her, and Jesus went straight to her bedside. He didn’t sit in the corner and twiddle his thumbs waiting for his hosts to take the initiative; He assumed the freedom of the house. There was no hesitancy. He goes to her. They don’t bring her to him. There was nothing more important, in all the world, at that time, then for Him to be there just for her With all of Himself, He is there just for her. He clasped her hand and helped her up and out of bed. The fever, we are told, left her. The body temp was back to a healthy 98.6.
And mother-in-law doesn’t respond to all this with a “Hip, Hip Hooray”, “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah”, or “Praise be to Jesus.” There is no excessive celebration, no pious, verbal effusions that can become literally nauseating.. She doesn’t “high five” our Lord or do what some NFL receivers do when they catch a touchdown pass from Tom Brady or Eli Manning. She doesn’t strike the Heisman pose! Instead, she serves them. That’s what the epiphany, the disclosure, the manifestation of Jesus does for her: she served them. She brought out the drinks and the snacks -- the Doritos, the peanuts, the party mix, the cheese tray, and the fresh fruits, if you will. She set the table. Perhaps she pulled out her favorite recipe. She did what she could do, what was right there for her to do. She served them. She would never be the same. She knew to whom she was precious. The kingdom of God had come to her in the form of this man who was the new friend of her son-in-law and his brother and the other BFF’s. In Mark’s telling of the story of Jesus, this nameless mother-in-law became the first deacon, the first servant.
The same goes for Jesus. “I am among you as one who serves,” He said. “He who would be great among you,” Jesus exclaimed, “must first be your servant.” Jesus embodied the truth that he came “not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”
There is mention of a door in the reading. Doors keep people in and can keep people out. They can even have a sign that says “No soliciting.” This door was open. We read of the events later in this day: “That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed.” They solicited His gracious, healing attention. “The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.”
Later on, in the dark of night, toward the end of the day and the beginning of a new one, Jesus quietly slipped out of the house and went off, we are told, to a “solitary place where he prayed.”
This is not a bad idea: to end the day or begin a new one at a solitary place having chat with the Lord, or, as I like to say, “checking in with headquarters.” Life, with its activities both old and new, will catch up with you soon enough.
It caught up with Jesus. They came looking for him. That’s a rather polite translation. Closer to the original language is this: they hunted him down. They find Him and they say: “Everyone is looking for you.” Have you ever had moments in your life when you feel as though everyone is looking for you? We all have. We can sympathize with the sentiment of the actress Greta Garbo who once said: “I vant to be alone!”
Jesus replies: “Let us go somewhere else – to the nearby villages – so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” Jesus never let his celebrity, if you will, get in the way of His mission.
So a day in the life ends and a new one begins. And the constant – way back when on that day and this day too! – is Jesus.
The Spirit of Jesus is among us today – serving as always. What joy it is to be served, this day, with the very best – the bread and the wine, the body and blood of Christ, given and shed for the forgiveness of our sins.
With the Lord begin thy task, Jesus will direct it;
For His aid and counsel ask, Jesus will perfect it.
Every morn with Jesus rise, and when day is ended,
In His Name then close thine eyes; be to Him commended.
Amen.
Friday, February 3, 2012
God Raises People Up!
Text: Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Theme: “God Raises People Up!”
4th Sunday after the Epiphany
January 29, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
15 The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him. 16 For this is what you asked of the LORD your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said, “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.”
17 The LORD said to me: “What they say is good. 18 I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their fellow Israelites, and I will put my words in his mouth. He will tell them everything I command him. 19 I myself will call to account anyone who does not listen to my words that the prophet speaks in my name. 20 But a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded, or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, is to be put to death.”
For the last few years, with increasing frequency, I’ve gone down to the Wal-Mart on S.R. 2181 to see Dr. Lee, my eye doctor. I have two prescriptions: one for distance and the other for up close. The pair of glasses I hold in my hand are probably the best for me to wear in the pulpit. The middle-to-bottom portion of the lense helps me see those objects, et cetera, that are closer to me, and the middle-to-top part helps me to see all of your bright, shiny, happy, smiling faces.
Since being in Texas, my vision has changed. I began to notice it while driving at night. Fortunately, my lenses have solved the problem. I remember asking Dr. Lee about this. I’ve had mild near-sightedness for years, so mild that it really did not require correction. But this was different. Dr. Lee said, at more than one point in the conversation, that, “as we age,” things happen to our vision. There’s actually a term for this called “Presbyopia.” In layman’s terms, we’re talking about old eyes. And you’re right! The “presby” part of that word is the first part of the word Presbyterian. “Presby” comes from the Greek term “presbuteros” which means “ruler” or “elder.” From the word “elder”, we get the term “elderly.”
But the New Testament doesn’t use “presbuteros” exclusively and only to denote age. Rather, it indicates an office that the people of God, at various times and places, are called to occupy. The two offices that emerge from the New Testament Scriptures are the office of elder and deacon. The office of elder has two aspect or responsibilities, if you will. First, an elder can be called to help guide and direct the affairs of the congregation. As such, they are called ruling elders. When they get together for a meeting, in Presbyterian lingo, they are called the “Session.”
Secondly, an elder can be called to proclaim and teach the truth’s of God’s Word and to administer the Sacraments of Jesus Christ. They are called teaching elders, or ministers of Word and Sacrament, or, more commonly, pastors. In terms of meaning, the word “deacon” describes one who serves, one who helps to meet the spiritual and temporal needs of people both within and outside the congregation.
In our understanding, no one puts themselves into these offices of elder or deacon. Rather, they are put into office another way: through ordination and the laying on of hands. Once you’re ordained, you’re always ordained. It happens only once. Installation, however, could happen many times as Christians previously ordained may be led by God’s Spirit to return to formal service.
In just minutes, here in Lord’s Day worship, we will ordain and install our newly-elected elders and deacons. This is a banner day for our congregation; there is much to celebrate. Yesterday morning, at our annual officer’s retreat, our current officers had a wonderful conversation with those Christians who will be ordained and installed this morning. Certainly, we thanked them for their willingness to serve, but it was far more than that. We got to hear a bit about their history and involvement in this congregation. Best of all, we rejoiced in God’s call and claim on their lives.
This takes me back to these glasses. There are two ways of looking at this, two perspectives to view this from, two lenses – so to speak – to see this through. One way is to say that we recruited ourselves; our nominating committee got some people to come on board and to volunteer and to commit and to serve on the session and the diaconate. That’s not always an easy thing to do given our schedules, limitations, and other issues. Don’t get me wrong, I totally favor volunteerism and commitment. But there is more to this, far more, than that. Let us look at this another way, a second way. Through the voice of our congregation, God has called these Christians to occupy these offices. I invite you to let this second view be your view, and I challenge you to celebrate it today.
Yes, at the session meeting yesterday morning (which was part of the retreat), our elders conducted the affairs of the church. They made decisions. There were joys; there were concerns; there were sorrows; there was laughter; there were ups; there were downs. But, through it all, God was working through people.
This is one of the wonderful things about being a Christian: we believe that God is not in some far-off place simply existing – like some kind of cosmic couch potato. Quite to the contrary, the Spirit of God – the Spirit of Christ Jesus – is actively involved in life, in our lives, in claiming, calling, and guiding each one of us. That being said, the implications are massive. Life – and life in the church – is no longer a duty (which often can become a drudgery). Instead, it becomes an adventure – which is to say, real life! We are caught up in a life and a way of life that is bigger than ourselves. If it is all about the self; if it is all about tireless self-promotion, I’m telling you: the self can’t stand the strain of playing God. I recall some time ago a person coming up to me and saying: “Do you want to know the difference between God and Donald Trump?” I said “sure.” The reply came back: “The difference between God and Donald Trump is that God doesn’t think He’s Donald Trump.” Eventually, like Humpty-Dumpty, the idol falls and is smashed to smithereens. We are not God. We are God’s children.
And we have names.
Speaking of names, I came across this list of names from the Bible and I shared it with our officers yesterday morning. I wish to share it with you too. Here’s how it reads:
Jacob was a cheater; Peter had a temper;
David had an affair; Noah got drunk;
Jonah ran from God; Paul was a murderer;
Gideon was insecure; Miriam was a gossiper;
Martha was a worrier; Thomas was a doubter;
Sarah was impatient; Elijah was depressed;
Moses tsuttered; Zacchaeus was short;
Abraham was old, and Lazarus was dead… .
GOD DOESN’T CALL THE QUALIFIED,
HE QUALIFIES THE CALLED!
There was a time when the people of God would have preferred that God simply go on existing and NOT be so involved in the lives of people. With all due respect and with a certain politeness, they said, as recorded in today’s Old Testament Reading: “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.” They were okay with Moses, but Moses wasn’t going to be with them anymore to tell them what God was going to do or what God wanted. So Moses said: “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites.”
That’s just one example. But here’s the point: God raises people up! God has never left God’s people without a voice to share God’s Word. God has never stopped calling and qualifying people to provide direction and guidance (like elders). God has never stopped calling, qualifying, and raising up people to serve the needs of others (like deacons).
The greatest person God raised up is His only-begotton Son – even Jesus Christ, our Lord. He called His Son at His Baptism and through His public ministry. He qualified His Son through His all-availing death for our sins and glorious resurrection from the grave. And that Son made good on His promise to send His Spirit to call and qualify others to join the dance, and we are here today as living proof of the same.
This is big! Verizon Fios has nothing on us. For this – God’s gracious claim upon our lives – is truly big!
Amen.
Theme: “God Raises People Up!”
4th Sunday after the Epiphany
January 29, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
15 The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him. 16 For this is what you asked of the LORD your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly when you said, “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.”
17 The LORD said to me: “What they say is good. 18 I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their fellow Israelites, and I will put my words in his mouth. He will tell them everything I command him. 19 I myself will call to account anyone who does not listen to my words that the prophet speaks in my name. 20 But a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded, or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, is to be put to death.”
For the last few years, with increasing frequency, I’ve gone down to the Wal-Mart on S.R. 2181 to see Dr. Lee, my eye doctor. I have two prescriptions: one for distance and the other for up close. The pair of glasses I hold in my hand are probably the best for me to wear in the pulpit. The middle-to-bottom portion of the lense helps me see those objects, et cetera, that are closer to me, and the middle-to-top part helps me to see all of your bright, shiny, happy, smiling faces.
Since being in Texas, my vision has changed. I began to notice it while driving at night. Fortunately, my lenses have solved the problem. I remember asking Dr. Lee about this. I’ve had mild near-sightedness for years, so mild that it really did not require correction. But this was different. Dr. Lee said, at more than one point in the conversation, that, “as we age,” things happen to our vision. There’s actually a term for this called “Presbyopia.” In layman’s terms, we’re talking about old eyes. And you’re right! The “presby” part of that word is the first part of the word Presbyterian. “Presby” comes from the Greek term “presbuteros” which means “ruler” or “elder.” From the word “elder”, we get the term “elderly.”
But the New Testament doesn’t use “presbuteros” exclusively and only to denote age. Rather, it indicates an office that the people of God, at various times and places, are called to occupy. The two offices that emerge from the New Testament Scriptures are the office of elder and deacon. The office of elder has two aspect or responsibilities, if you will. First, an elder can be called to help guide and direct the affairs of the congregation. As such, they are called ruling elders. When they get together for a meeting, in Presbyterian lingo, they are called the “Session.”
Secondly, an elder can be called to proclaim and teach the truth’s of God’s Word and to administer the Sacraments of Jesus Christ. They are called teaching elders, or ministers of Word and Sacrament, or, more commonly, pastors. In terms of meaning, the word “deacon” describes one who serves, one who helps to meet the spiritual and temporal needs of people both within and outside the congregation.
In our understanding, no one puts themselves into these offices of elder or deacon. Rather, they are put into office another way: through ordination and the laying on of hands. Once you’re ordained, you’re always ordained. It happens only once. Installation, however, could happen many times as Christians previously ordained may be led by God’s Spirit to return to formal service.
In just minutes, here in Lord’s Day worship, we will ordain and install our newly-elected elders and deacons. This is a banner day for our congregation; there is much to celebrate. Yesterday morning, at our annual officer’s retreat, our current officers had a wonderful conversation with those Christians who will be ordained and installed this morning. Certainly, we thanked them for their willingness to serve, but it was far more than that. We got to hear a bit about their history and involvement in this congregation. Best of all, we rejoiced in God’s call and claim on their lives.
This takes me back to these glasses. There are two ways of looking at this, two perspectives to view this from, two lenses – so to speak – to see this through. One way is to say that we recruited ourselves; our nominating committee got some people to come on board and to volunteer and to commit and to serve on the session and the diaconate. That’s not always an easy thing to do given our schedules, limitations, and other issues. Don’t get me wrong, I totally favor volunteerism and commitment. But there is more to this, far more, than that. Let us look at this another way, a second way. Through the voice of our congregation, God has called these Christians to occupy these offices. I invite you to let this second view be your view, and I challenge you to celebrate it today.
Yes, at the session meeting yesterday morning (which was part of the retreat), our elders conducted the affairs of the church. They made decisions. There were joys; there were concerns; there were sorrows; there was laughter; there were ups; there were downs. But, through it all, God was working through people.
This is one of the wonderful things about being a Christian: we believe that God is not in some far-off place simply existing – like some kind of cosmic couch potato. Quite to the contrary, the Spirit of God – the Spirit of Christ Jesus – is actively involved in life, in our lives, in claiming, calling, and guiding each one of us. That being said, the implications are massive. Life – and life in the church – is no longer a duty (which often can become a drudgery). Instead, it becomes an adventure – which is to say, real life! We are caught up in a life and a way of life that is bigger than ourselves. If it is all about the self; if it is all about tireless self-promotion, I’m telling you: the self can’t stand the strain of playing God. I recall some time ago a person coming up to me and saying: “Do you want to know the difference between God and Donald Trump?” I said “sure.” The reply came back: “The difference between God and Donald Trump is that God doesn’t think He’s Donald Trump.” Eventually, like Humpty-Dumpty, the idol falls and is smashed to smithereens. We are not God. We are God’s children.
And we have names.
Speaking of names, I came across this list of names from the Bible and I shared it with our officers yesterday morning. I wish to share it with you too. Here’s how it reads:
Jacob was a cheater; Peter had a temper;
David had an affair; Noah got drunk;
Jonah ran from God; Paul was a murderer;
Gideon was insecure; Miriam was a gossiper;
Martha was a worrier; Thomas was a doubter;
Sarah was impatient; Elijah was depressed;
Moses tsuttered; Zacchaeus was short;
Abraham was old, and Lazarus was dead… .
GOD DOESN’T CALL THE QUALIFIED,
HE QUALIFIES THE CALLED!
There was a time when the people of God would have preferred that God simply go on existing and NOT be so involved in the lives of people. With all due respect and with a certain politeness, they said, as recorded in today’s Old Testament Reading: “Let us not hear the voice of the LORD our God nor see this great fire anymore, or we will die.” They were okay with Moses, but Moses wasn’t going to be with them anymore to tell them what God was going to do or what God wanted. So Moses said: “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites.”
That’s just one example. But here’s the point: God raises people up! God has never left God’s people without a voice to share God’s Word. God has never stopped calling and qualifying people to provide direction and guidance (like elders). God has never stopped calling, qualifying, and raising up people to serve the needs of others (like deacons).
The greatest person God raised up is His only-begotton Son – even Jesus Christ, our Lord. He called His Son at His Baptism and through His public ministry. He qualified His Son through His all-availing death for our sins and glorious resurrection from the grave. And that Son made good on His promise to send His Spirit to call and qualify others to join the dance, and we are here today as living proof of the same.
This is big! Verizon Fios has nothing on us. For this – God’s gracious claim upon our lives – is truly big!
Amen.
A Generous Dose of Psalm 62
Text: Psalm 62:5-12
Theme: “A Generous Dose of Psalm 62”
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany
January 22, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
5 Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
6 Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and my honor depend on God[c];
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.
9 Surely the lowborn are but a breath,
the highborn are but a lie.
If weighed on a balance, they are nothing;
together they are only a breath.
10 Do not trust in extortion
or put vain hope in stolen goods;
though your riches increase,
do not set your heart on them.
11 One thing God has spoken,
two things I have heard:
“Power belongs to you, God,
12 and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”;
and, “You reward everyone
according to what they have done.”
Although I haven’t heard the final tally, I can tell you that the Men of the Church garage sale yesterday here at First Presbyterian was a smashing success. From 8:00 AM on, we had a steady influx of people at Erwin Hall. They came in empty-handed and came out with arms loaded. Certain shoppers needed the assistance of some of our more able-bodied folk to hall out their furniture purchases. Pizza was brought in. Our men of the church, and our women, and our children, and the staff of Denton Christian Preschool all pitched in to lend a helping hand to DCPS which is called “The School that Love Built.” It certainly lived up to its name yesterday. Thanks to all of you who provided items – clothing, trinkets, electronics, bric-a-brac, what-have-you – to help generate funds for a worthy organization. I have to tell you that I picked up three or four really nice silk ties at a ridiculously low price. I’ve got one on this morning! At one point, one of our members indicated to me that there was this hat for sale. It wasn’t the prettiest hat. In fact, it was rather gaudy. My friend suggested that it wouldn’t sell. But then, within minutes, the hat is at the check-out line with a smiling new owner. As it is said, “One person’s trash can be another person’s treasure.”
Theme: “A Generous Dose of Psalm 62”
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany
January 22, 2012
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
5 Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
6 Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and my honor depend on God[c];
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.
9 Surely the lowborn are but a breath,
the highborn are but a lie.
If weighed on a balance, they are nothing;
together they are only a breath.
10 Do not trust in extortion
or put vain hope in stolen goods;
though your riches increase,
do not set your heart on them.
11 One thing God has spoken,
two things I have heard:
“Power belongs to you, God,
12 and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”;
and, “You reward everyone
according to what they have done.”
Although I haven’t heard the final tally, I can tell you that the Men of the Church garage sale yesterday here at First Presbyterian was a smashing success. From 8:00 AM on, we had a steady influx of people at Erwin Hall. They came in empty-handed and came out with arms loaded. Certain shoppers needed the assistance of some of our more able-bodied folk to hall out their furniture purchases. Pizza was brought in. Our men of the church, and our women, and our children, and the staff of Denton Christian Preschool all pitched in to lend a helping hand to DCPS which is called “The School that Love Built.” It certainly lived up to its name yesterday. Thanks to all of you who provided items – clothing, trinkets, electronics, bric-a-brac, what-have-you – to help generate funds for a worthy organization. I have to tell you that I picked up three or four really nice silk ties at a ridiculously low price. I’ve got one on this morning! At one point, one of our members indicated to me that there was this hat for sale. It wasn’t the prettiest hat. In fact, it was rather gaudy. My friend suggested that it wouldn’t sell. But then, within minutes, the hat is at the check-out line with a smiling new owner. As it is said, “One person’s trash can be another person’s treasure.”
Another friend and member remarked to me that events like these are good to see – and not necessarily because of the money that is generated. The point was that when folks see activity going on (the signs include cars driving in, a full parking lot, and people mulling about), an impression is made. Without necessarily putting it into words, folks note that neat things are “going on” at First Presbyterian Church – good things, worthwhile things. Throw in the fun and the conversation and the laughter that people witnessed among our membership, and it all sets forth something that other folks might just want to be a part of. So hats off and three cheers for First Presbyterian Church!
Every Sunday is special because it’s an anniversary of the greatest Sunday of them all when Christ the crucified rose from the dead in the greatest victory of all. Next Sunday, January 29th, however, is significant because, in worship, we will recognize the officers of our congregation. We’ll have opportunity to thank those who complete their term of service, and we’ll ordain and install new elders and deacons to help lead this wonderful church into the future.
This coming Saturday, I’ll host a retreat for our current and about-to-be ordained and/or installed deacons and elders in the Sybill Hopper room. I’ve been scrounging around in my brain for a theme for this get-together, and I’ve settled on this: “Play to your strengths!” Do we, as a body of believers, have weaknesses? The answer is obvious: of course we do. Because we are a small church, we don’t have numbers of people and resources that would allow us to provide more ministry efforts in and around our community. Now, as individuals or as a church, we could all sit around and twiddle our thumbs and lament this sad state of affairs. How well does that work? It doesn’t. How much energy and enthusiasm does that generate? Zip, zero, and nada!
The alternative is to play to our strengths. And right now, I’m looking out at our strength. I’m speaking to our strength. You, animated by the Spirit of Christ Jesus, are the strength. You are a church with unusual, unique, and impressive talent. You are a church with a commitment – both “in season and out of season”, to use a biblical phrase – that holds firm. You’ve weathered some storms, seen some rainbows, and are looking forward to a new day. I think it’s an exciting time to be at First Presbyterian Church. I’ll go so far as to say that Denton and its surrounding area NEEDS First Presbyterian Church. I’m tickled pink to have a part in this church. This congregation represents a refreshing and spiritually healthy alternative to the rigid, cold dogmatism that some independent and denominational churches put forth. On the flip-side, we provide a wholesome and needed alternative to other churches where folks are so open-minded that they’re not really sure what or who they believe in anymore. Stick around First Presbyterian for any length of time, and you begin to see that it’s Jesus Christ, and His good news, and His baptism, and His Supper that carry the day. These are the means; these are the gifts that animate who we are and give direction to where we’re going. Now, if you are a visitor or guest and you want in on this, then it’s time that you and I sit down and have coffee. I can tell you so much more, and I want to hear from you too.
It’s going to be quite a year – for a lot of reasons. One notable reason is that 2012 is an election year, and, folks, we are already bombarded with politics. Every four years or so, we are told by pundits that this is going to be the nastiest election in history. It just may be. Who knows? Of course, the economy weighs heavy on the American mind. We hear about the “haves” and the “have nots” and the “1%” and the “99%”. There are tea parties and occupy movements and “Super PACs” and congressional re-districting – and the list goes on ad nauseum. Whatever your particular political persuasion may be, it’s clear – at least, to me – that we are going to be confronted with two very different views on governing. The disagreements will be sharp; the attacks may be personal; the rhetoric will be hot.
As your pastor, I want you to know that I, too, am going to focus on politics this year. I’m going to zero in like a laser beam on the politics of what St. Augustine once called “The City of God.” At the heart of the word “politics” is the Greek term polis which means “city.” Politics, therefore, has to do with the right ordering of the city. In this case, I speak of the city of God.
The writer to the Hebrews was not talking about Democrats or Republicans. He wasn’t addressing conservatives or liberals. He wasn’t gearing his remarks to political independents or moderates. The writer spoke of the people of God.
The writer to the Hebrews was not talking about Democrats or Republicans. He wasn’t addressing conservatives or liberals. He wasn’t gearing his remarks to political independents or moderates. The writer spoke of the people of God.
The author makes the startling claim that they, the people of God, “…admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have opportunity to return. Instead, they were looking for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” My job, therefore, is not to get a voter to the polls. It is to work with you to get another traveler home – to the city of God.
As 2012 unfolds, the psalm appointed for this day offers so much. Earlier this week, the singer Etta James died. It was said that she sang with a “lot of soul.” She put her vocal imprint, for example, on a classic song like “At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over, and life is like a song.”
Folks, we have minds; we have bodies; we have souls as well. Listen to the opening salvo of our psalm: “Yes, my soul, find rest in God.” I mentioned St. Augustine earlier. He was the one who said: “Our hearts (or souls) are restless until they rest in Thee.” Some people, truth be told, view God as a kind of cosmic cop. He, she, or it is there to “protect and serve.” He’s going to write you a ticket if you do something wrong. If you really mess up, He’ll throw you in jail or send you to hell. Others see God as an invisible Santa Claus who makes a list, checks it twice, and proceeds to find out who is naughty or nice. Still others view God as some sort of “life coach” or “trainer” who works with you so that you may achieve your goals and have your best life now – since it’s all about you.
How very different – wonderfully different – is the view of God put forth in today’s psalm. God is confessed as a place of rest for the soul. It’s time for Scriptural fill in the blank. Ready? “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is … (what)? Weak! That’s right. What if you turn that around? The flesh is willing, but the spirit is weak. Aha! Think about it. If the spirit, if your soul, is weak, it needs rest. In God, with God, your soul gets rested. And folks, “These are the times,” as the famous author said, “that try men’s souls.”
The psalmist, King David, says that his hope comes from God. It doesn’t come from Reagan, Clinton, Mitt, Newt, or Barack. My hope comes from God, says David. “Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.”
What a contrast this is – and a happy contrast at that! – to the viewpoint which says only: “My salvation depends on my 700+ credit rating. My honor depends on getting my candidate elected. My mighty rock is my 401K and my refuge is my home that I hope I can keep paying the mortgage on.”
David says “trust” in God at all times. There’s a difference here. People can go on and on until they’re blue in the face, until they run out of coffee, or until the cows come home that they believe in God. “Oh yes, I believe in God alright.” But the question is, in a world where massive cruise ships list and lives are lost, do you trust God? Do you depend on God? Is it time to start?
The psalmist, King David, sings on: “Surely the lowborn are but a breath, the highborn are but a lie. If weighed on a balance, they are nothing; together they are only a breath.” Who are the “lowborn”? They are those that we today call the have-nots, the poor. Who are the “highborn”? They are those that we today call the haves, the rich. God looks at them all together and weighs them, David says. And it doesn’t amount to this (take a breath and exhale). Whenever the agitations of our economy or the bitterness of our politics or the massive problems at home and abroad bombast your brain and tire your soul, remember Psalm 62 and do this (take a breath and exhale).
King David continues: “Do not trust in extortion or put vain hope in stolen goods; though your riches increase, do not set your heart on them.” This verse, to me, acknowledges that there will be those in the world who do not care who they trample on to achieve their financial goals. They are the social and economic Darwinists for whom the ends justify the means. It’s all about getting ahead, staying ahead, bending the rules and breaking them if you can get away with it. King David is essentially saying that if you do that, you’ll never find rest. Enough will never be enough. You’ll never have contentment.
David concludes: “One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving. Surely you will reward each person according to what He has done.”
Is God strong? My friend, I don’t envision my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as a 98 lb. weakling. Turning water into wine is a trifle for the Son of God and the creator of the universe. Is God loving? The focal point of this sanctuary is your answer. The cross of Jesus Christ shows us all just how loving God is.
God will reward each person, says David, for what he or she has done. For many of the things I’ve done and that you’ve done, God has rewarded us through Jesus Christ and His power and His dying and rising love. And for many other things, God has rewarded us with the joy we have in God, in one another, and in serving both.
2012 is here! Take a generous dose of Psalm 62.
Amen.
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