You Won't Need the Coat!

Text:  Mark 10:46-52

Theme:  "You Won't Need the Coat"

21st Sunday after Pentecost/Reformation Sunday

October 28, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

⁴⁶ Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. ⁴⁷ When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

⁴⁸ Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

⁴⁹ Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”

So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” ⁵⁰ Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

⁵¹ “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him.

The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”

⁵² “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

 

The all-American humorist, Arnold Glasgow, once wrote:  "One of the tests of leadership is to recognize a problem before it becomes an emergency."  If that be the case, then Martin Luther -- that towering figure in the Protestant Reformation -- was not much of a leader.  The problem, which had long since become an emergency, was in his head and in his heart.  Now, Luther was a believer -- with that there was no problem.  He was a child of the Roman Catholic Church.  He was reared and raised with its teachings.  There is a God.  God is holy.  And there are people of God; they are not holy.  God had the power -- the power to make you or break you, the power to grant you life or wipe you out.  From Saint Augustine, Luther learned about the power of God's love.  It could change a human being.  But did he, Luther, have enough of that love so that a change could be made?  Was there enough love in him to bridge the gap between his sin and the holiness of God?  Augustine and his studies in theology only took him so far.  Even Augustine couldn't set him free from the emergency in his soul. 

Could the church help?  Well, the pope had a basilica to build -- St. Peter's basilica in Rome.  That would require money.  They raised funds for the project by selling something called indulgences.  What was an indulgence?  It was a sheet of paper.  Let's say that your Great Aunt Sophie passed away.  According to Catholic teaching, her soul went to purgatory before she went to heaven.  There she was "purged" of any remaining sins that she neglected confess to the priest before she died.  When you bought an indulgence, according to Catholic teaching at the time, you lessened the time Great Aunt Sophie had to spend in purgatory.  I know, it all sounds so medieval to us.

Meanwhile, Luther -- still beset with an emergency in his soul -- smelled a rat.  God's love was many things, but one thing it was not:  it was not something that could be bought. A god that could be bought off was not much of a god at all.   Forgiveness was not a matter of dollars and cents; mercy, if it was truly to be mercy, did not have a price -- in terms of money. 

The sale of indulgences added insult to injury for Luther.  His personal anguish of soul was bad enough, but now his own church had started something that would make even the fund-raisers of today blush in embarrassment.  What to do?

Well, he could run away and hide.  He could do what a growing number of people are doing in our own country -- that is, not bothering to care anymore about spiritual matters or the church.  He could have lied to himself and denied that he ever really had any personal problems to begin with; he could have gone on, as a loyal son of the Catholic church, to PROMOTE the continuing sale of indulgences and then be part of the celebration when the new basilica was dedicated.

But that's not what Luther did. 

To borrow the language of today's Gospel reading, Luther -- like blind Bartimaeus -- threw off his coat.  He let it all hang out.  If there was mercy, it would not come from money.  If there was forgiveness, he could not earn it.  If there was love -- real love and not some phony baloney, it would have to be God's to give.  If there was to be trust, it would be in Christ alone.  If there was to be faith, it had to come from God as a gift.  Not from Augustine but from Habakkuk, Luther learned that "The just shall live by faith."  Not from the Roman Catholic Church of his day but from St. Paul did Luther learn that "By grace are you saved through faith -- and this is not from yourselves.  It is the gift of God.  It is not of works -- lest anyone should boast."  To the blind and befuddled eyes of his head and heart, the pure Gospel of Jesus Christ shined brightly.  Luther was set free; he would never be the same.

The rest, as they say, is history!  The reformation of the church spread -- through Germany and on to Geneva, Switzerland and John Calvin.  It made its way to Scotland.  A group of Christians eventually called "Presbyterians" sprung from this reformation, and here we are today as heirs of it all.

Reformation means change.  One of the phrases in our Presbyterian circles is this:  "reformed and always reforming."  That line was first coined, in 1674, by Jodocus van  Lodenstein, who was a significant figure in Dutch Reformed pietism -- which was a branch of the Reformation.  According to van Lodenstein and others, the Reformation, begun by Luther, changed the doctrine of the church, but the lives and practices of God's people always needed further reformation. 

Unfortunately, there are some in our circles who take this matter of change, of reformation, a bit too far.  They think that, as far as change is concerned, anything goes.  The whole idea is to be constantly changing -- like some sort of ecclesiastical chameleon.  Stick a moist finger in the wind, and see where it takes you.  Don't be bogged down by creeds and confessions.  Don't be stifled by polity and organizational structure.  All of that was fine way back when, but we live in a modern era where are all those old myths and superstitions have long since been disproved.  The church would be so much better if would be more like Entertainment Tonight or, well, "American Idol."  But do sprinkle in some happy Jesus Scriptures to give it a little spiritual flavor!

Perhaps the modern church would do well to hear the ENTIRE phrase from van Lodenstein:  "reformed and always reforming according to the Word of God."  Change is many things, but it is not throwing out the Word of God. In the Bible, we have it in its written form. In Baptism and the Eucharist, we have it in its sacramental form.   In Jesus Christ, we have it in the flesh!

Speaking of Jesus, our text picks up with Him in Jericho. He was about to leave town.  There, outside the city limits, all but ostracized by society, sat a blind beggar named Bartimaeus.  His survival depended on his voice which allowed him to beg for his daily provisions.  His ears allowed him to hear all the ruckus and to discover that Jesus was near. 

He didn't crawl into the fetal position and hide underneath his coat.  That coat was all he had.  It protected him from the elements; it covered him from the mocking and disdainful gaze of onlookers; it surrounded and safeguarded what food or money he could get from passersby.  Without that coat, he was exposed and doomed. 

Wrapped in that coat, he shouted at the top of his lungs:  "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me."  The crowd told him to shut up -- basically to go back to the rock that you crawled out from under.  You're not someone Jesus, the son of David, wants to bother with.

Not to be deterred by the popular crowd, Bartimaeus cries out again:  "Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me."  He was a persistent little cuss, wasn't he?

Jesus said:  "Call him."  The popular crowd, fickle as ever, says:  "Cheer up!  He's calling you!"

Then something amazing happened.  It says he through aside his cloak.  He wouldn't be needing that anymore.  EVERYTHING that he previously depended on for his very survival as a blind man sitting on the side of the road he threw away.  That was act of faith even before he received his sight. 

He did receive his sight, and he followed Jesus -- on to the cross, to the empty tomb, and to the Kingdom Christ came to give him.  The coat was left in the dust.

Sisters and Brothers in Christ, if there is to be continuing reformation in the churches of the Reformation; if we -- like Luther, Calvin, and van Lodenstein -- seek godly change, then we must see ourselves as blind Bartimaeus, the beggar.

The world is telling us to shut up and then to cheer up.  How reliable is that?   But Jesus is calling -- even today.  The question is:  will we throw off our coat?

Martin Luther died in 1546.  Next to his deathbed were the last words he reportedly wrote.  They say:  "We are beggars; this is true."  He nailed it, for beggars live only by what they are given -- that is, by faith.  In other words, you won't need the coat.

Amen.

Text:  Job 38:1-7, 34-41

Theme:  "Who Let the Wild Donkey Go Free?"

21st Sunday after Pentecost

October 21, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said:

² “Who is this that obscures my plans
with words without knowledge?
³ Brace yourself like a man;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.

⁴ “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
Tell me, if you understand.
⁵ Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
⁶ On what were its footings set,
or who laid its cornerstone—
⁷ while the morning stars sang together
and all the angels^[a] shouted for joy?

“Can you raise your voice to the clouds
and cover yourself with a flood of water?
³⁵ Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?
Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?
³⁶ Who gives the ibis wisdom^[f]
or gives the rooster understanding?^[g]
37 Who has the wisdom to count the clouds?
Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
³⁸ when the dust becomes hard
and the clods of earth stick together?

³⁹ “Do you hunt the prey for the lioness
and satisfy the hunger of the lions
⁴⁰ when they crouch in their dens
or lie in wait in a thicket?
⁴¹ Who provides food for the raven
when its young cry out to God
and wander about for lack of food?

The question of the hour is as follows:  Who let the wild donkey go free?  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is it -- the question of the moment:  Who let the wild donkey go free?

A voice from the choir loft says:  "What? What do you mean, Reverend?  Or, as they say down here in the South, "What you talkin' bout, preacher? What wild donkey?  We don't see any wild donkey.  Where is the wild donkey?"

"And, for that matter, a wild donkey cannot be set free; a wild donkey is, by its very nature, wild.  Somebody must be off their meds; somebody must be a couple of tacos shy of a combination plate; somebody's elevator doesn't go all the way up; somebody must be off their rocker to be asking a tom fool question like that!  Who asks a question like that?"

The answer is God.  And it's not the only question God asks.  Our reading includes selections from Job chapter 38.  If you read all of chapter 38, all of chapter 39, and the first two verses of chapter 40, God asks 48 questions in a row to his servant, Job.  All of the questions are different, but they do have one thing in common: the answer is obvious.  In other words, they are rhetorical questions.

For 37 chapters prior to this, we have the story of Job. He is something of a pawn in a chess game between good and evil.   He lost his family; he lost his wealth; he lost his health.  He didn't lose his wife or at least three of his friends, but when it came to the ultimate question -- Where is God amid all this random doom and gloom? -- they weren't of much help at all. 

But Job had the gift of gab!  He had some questions that needed to answered.  He had an argument to make; he had a point of view to express.  The questions, the arguments, the points of view of his wife and friends, well, that was all just so much chitter-chatter.  He was frustrated; he was angry; the words of others were falling on deaf ears.  He was shooting for the moon; he was going for the top dog, the top banana, the whole enchilada.  He wanted an audience with his maker and his judge.  Let's cut the crap and get the ultimate verdict from the only One who, ultimately, is in the ultimate position to answer the ultimate questions.  Job, despite his massive misfortune, was a pit bull; he was tenacious; he was frustrated; he was angry; he was holding on and holding out for the judgement of God. 

The movie Twelve Angry Men portrays a  jury that has to make a decision in a murder trial that was based on reasonable doubt.  In a nutshell, the movie explored all kinds of techniques to build consensus, to get everyone on the same page, and develop a process they all could live with.  Job and his wife and his three friends were like those twelve angry men. 

Only three minutes of that classic movie is spent inside the courtroom.  The other time is spent inside a private room where every juror analyzed every piece of evidence.  The more they talked and chitter-chattered, the more annoyed and the more fractured they became.  It sounds like Job and his wife and his friends!  But once they started thinking with brutal honesty, they went from two separate 8-4 votes to a unanimous decision.

Long ago, a Protestant clergyman said:  "A man that does not know how to be angry does not know how to be good."  I think I see Job in that comment.  Job reinforced what an American diplomat once said:  "Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything.  But when they get angry, they bring about a change."

And one day, finally, God replied to Job in kind -- with just as much drama, if not more, than even Job could muster.  God spoke with an honesty both brutal and  blessed.

"Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm," it says.  With a storm, Job was at the mercy of the elements. And the questions -- all 48 of them -- were elemental. 

Who is this that obscures my plans
with words without knowledge?

That's the first question -- and the answer is obvious:  Job!  Job, with all his frustrated and angry  talk (devoid of knowledge) was obscuring God's plans and making it rougher on himself.  But God, merciful God that God is, says to Job:

Brace yourself like a man;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.

What follows is nothing but a cosmic symphony of divine words in the form of questions.  And the answers were so obvious, so simple. 

Of all 48 questions (and you can read them, as I mentioned earlier, in chapters 38-40), I am bold to single out one of them for a bit more consideration.  Here it is again  -- from chapter 39:5-8:  

Who let the wild donkey go free?  Who untied his ropes?  I gave him the wasteland as his home, the salt flats as his habitat.  He laughs at the commotion in the town; he does not hear a driver's shout.  He ranges the hills for his pasture and searches for any green thing.

What an image!  A wild donkey "laughing" at the "commotion" in the town.  And what is the commotion in the town?  It is the coming and going of the human race,  the chitter-chatter of all the people who, every single day (on to this very day), speak their words without knowledge and thus obscure God's plans from their own eyes.

Not so the wild donkey! The wild donkey knows its place; he doesn't heed the conflicting voices of others; he is what he was made to be; he does what he was made to do.

In Jesus Christ, God is the wild donkey.  He did not heed the commotion in the town -- the voices of others telling him to do this and not do that.  He was  -- and is! -- who He was made to be.  He did what He was made to do.  Despite all worldy attempts to steer him away and to domesticate him, He was wild and free.  He held to His path to the cross and the empty tomb. 

Because of that cross and empty tomb, we too, by the grace of God, are wild and free.  We are wild enough, free enough, blessed enough to -- as it says in that old catechism --  glorify God and to enjoy God forever. 

Amen.

"Doom and Gloom":  A Spiritual Analysis of the Latest from The Rolling Stones

 

 

Click the above link and have a listen.  If rock and roll is "the blues on steroids", then this latest offering from The Rolling Stones -- celebrating 50 years in the business -- ought to pump you up. On a personal note, I owe the Stones a word of thanks for being part of my return to something resembling physical health.  I seem to shoot better 3-pointers,  run faster, and lift harder accompanied, via Bluetooth headphones, to any one of a number of their songs.  ("She Was Hot" from Shine A Light has the most plays.)

 

On that score alone, "Doom and Gloom" won't disappoint.  But there's more here to consider than the energy of music.  There's a spiritual aspect that cannot be ignored.  Allow me to address that (as best I can).

 

Mick Jagger gets cranking right away:

 

I had a dream last night

That I was piloting a plane

And all the passengers were drunk and insane

I crash landed in a Louisiana swamp

Shot up a horde of zombies

But I come out on top

 

If you read the Keith Richards autobiography, you'll nod your head in agreement. Keith and Mick get a phrase in their collective heads and start playing around with it.  This is no different. 

 

But just when you're ready for the next scene in the dream sequence, it's cut short with this:

 

What's it all about?

It just reflects my mood.

Dreams, for all their weirdness, can reflect a mood.  But what's the mood?  Here it is:

 

Sitting in the dirt

Feeling kind of hurt

All I hear is doom and gloom

And all is darkness in my room

 

The mood, if I might be so bold, includes resignation to a dismal status quo, pain, and existential despair in its personal and collective varieties.  The chorus just nails it -- with "it" being the mood of the world in many and various ways. 

 

As Stones fans know, they've "gone political" before.  Recall "Highwire" on the "Flashpoint" live album.  ("Highwire" is the only studio cut amid concert recordings on that album.)  They "go political" here:

 

Lost all that treasure in an overseas war

It just goes to show you don't get what you paid for

Battle to the rich and you worry about the poor

 

Democrats blast Republicans for paying for two wars on a credit card.  Republicans blast Democrats for paying only lip service to the poor while pocketing the cash.  And on this blame game goes with no resolution in sight.  What to do?  Here's what Mick and Keef think:

 

Put my feet up on the couch

And lock all the doors

 

 They're sick and tired of the political run-a-round that we're all increasingly privy to. Who isn't?  But it's starting to really hurt -- as they point out:

 

Hear a funky noise

That's the TIGHTENING OF THE SCREWS. 

 

Somewhere, amid all this doom and gloom, the pressure is on us; we're the ones getting screwed!

 

Then there's the energy crisis ("Fracking deep for oil but there's nothing in the pump") and the lack of potable water in parts of the world ("I'm running out of water so I better prime the pump").  Add to that our personal problems ("I'm trying to stay sober but I end up drunk").  And what of the future?  ("We'll be eating dirt living on the side of the road; there's some food for thought -- kind of makes your head explode"). 

 

We may have bad dreams, but we're LIVING a nightmare, the song seems to say. 

 

Who or what is the way out from this doom and gloom?  Mick and Keef seem to suggest it's the next hottie that comes their way: 

 

Through the night your face I see

Baby take a chance

Baby won't you dance with me?

 

Is this the plea of 70-something lyricists trying to wring out the last ounce of testosterone in the arms of yet another woman?

 

I DON'T THINK SO.

 

I think the "baby" they reference is something -- or someONE! -- more than just a means to instant gratification amid the doom and gloom.

 

I would suggest that this is a primal scream of the soul for God.  The prayer goes like this:

 

GOD, I'M HURT...

GOD, I'M SITTIN' IN THE DIRT...

WHY DON'T YOU TAKE A CHANCE?

WHY DON'T YOU COME AND AND DANCE WITH ME?

 

In so many words, that's what Job said in the Old Testament book bearing his name.  What are we saying?

 

On a less spiritual note, it really is a great tune for thirty minutes of elliptical!  Rock on, Rolling Stones! 



 









Text:  Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Theme:  "Every Which Way But Loose"

20th Sunday after Pentecost

October 14, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

Then Job replied:

² “Even today my complaint is bitter;
his hand^[a] is heavy in spite of^[b] my groaning.
³ If only I knew where to find him;
if only I could go to his dwelling!
⁴ I would state my case before him
and fill my mouth with arguments.
⁵ I would find out what he would answer me,
and consider what he would say to me.
⁶ Would he vigorously oppose me?
No, he would not press charges against me.
⁷ There the upright can establish their innocence before him,
and there I would be delivered forever from my judge.

⁸ “But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
⁹ When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.

¹⁶ God has made my heart faint;
the Almighty has terrified me.
¹⁷ Yet I am not silenced by the darkness,
by the thick darkness that covers my face.

They say that a good minister ought to have the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.  (Well, I don't have the newspaper in my other hand, but I do read the Dallas Morning News and USA Today on my iPad; I wish they had an app for the Denton Record Chronicle.)  If the minister doesn't have some sort of newspaper in his hand, he runs the risk of being out of touch with what some call the "real world." 

Now turn it all around.  If the minister has only the newspaper in his hand and not the Bible, what's the difference between the preacher and some editorial writer or AM talk radio jock?  Very little.  The great preachers -- from Jesus, to St. Paul, to Billy Graham, and so forth -- were very much tuned in to the "real world"; they were only too aware of the facts on the ground.  But, more importantly, they delivered the truths of God's Word to very real people, in very real situations, with very real joys, and very real concerns. 

I mentioned USA Today.  Every now and again there comes a piece by Cathy Lee Grossman, and it always gets my attention.  She writes the articles on all things spiritual and religious.  This past week she reported to the nation some of the latest findings of the Pew Forum.   If you want to know what's going on with religion in America, you go to the Pew Forum (www.pewforum.org).  It will give you more information than you want. 

The big news, last week, is as follows:  in 2007, 53% of Americans were "affiliated" with a "Protestant Church."   Let me bring you up to speed.  We are a Presbyterian Church.  Presbyterian churches are part of the Presbyterian tradition.  The Presbyterian tradition is part of the Reformed tradition.  The reformed tradition is part of the Protestant tradition.  The modern evangelical churches -- or non-denominational Bible churches -- are also part of the Protestant tradition (whether they care to admit it or not).  Alongside the Protestant tradition, you have the western catholic tradition which includes the Roman Catholic Church.  The eastern tradition of Christianity, still very much part of the mix, includes the orthodox churches including the Greek Orthodox Church and the Russian Orthodox Church.  If you didn't get all that right now, I'll have it on the web for you later today!

Back to the news:  in 2007, 53% of American were "affiliated" with a "Protestant Church."  But now, in 2012, for the first time in our nation's history, the percentage has dropped below fifty percent.  Protestants are no longer a majority in the USA.  Grossman, to her credit, asks the obvious question:  What happened?  She goes on to answer:  "Where did they go?  Nowhere, actually. They didn't switch to a new religious brand, they just let go of any faith affiliation or label."

This group of non-affiliates, called the "Nones", says Grossman, is now the nation's second-largest category only to Catholics, and outnumbers the top Protestant denomination, the Southern Baptists."

Folks, if these trends continue at their current pace, it could very well be that the Presbyterian Church, as presently constituted, will cease to exist while some of us are still alive.  A few years back, when I "affiliated" with the Presbyterian Church, I recall a Presbyterian Church running an advertisement that said:  "We're not your grandpa's Presbyterian Church."  The point was that this congregation was new, hip, relevant, and all of that.  My point, and the Grossman article bears this out, is that "new" and "hip" and "relevant" isn't cutting it either.  Across the board, people are just -- plain and simply -- dropping out.  We used to be called a "nation of joiners."  I don't know if that's true anymore.

If anyone ever had a doggone good bunch of reasons to drop out and become unaffiliated or non-affiliated, it was Job.  Job had lost his children, had lost his wealth, had lost his health.  He hung on, like some crazy man, to his belief in God.  He continued, as the story goes, to walk "blamelessly" before God and with integrity.  His wife had seen enough.  God was absent, A.W.O.L., nowhere to be seen.  If God were present and accounted for and if there's at least a chance that God cares, then Job would never, ever have to endure the horrible fate that was his.  "Are you still hanging on, old boy?" she seems to say.  "Curse God and  be done with this nonsense." 

That was last week's text.  Today's reading jumps ahead a few chapters, and those few chapters include conversations poor Job has with some friends of his who came to comfort him in his pain.  Read it all through, and you'll conclude that with friends like that who needs enemies. 

Job was running out of people to count on.  If you can't count on your friends and your own spouse, who can you count on?  What about God?  Where was God in all this horrific mumbo-jumbo? 

Some of you known that I'm that strange sort of Presbyterian minister who happens to be a Rolling Stones fan.  Well, that band -- that is celebrating its fiftieth year in rock and roll this year -- came out with a new single called "Doom and Gloom".  Interestingly enough, the lyrics capture the mood of Job.  They go like this:  "All I hear is doom and gloom. All is darkness in my room."  It is the voice  -- the most current and very popular voice -- of existential despair.  And this voice is particularly loud among the number who have set spiritual and relligious matters aside, particularly loud among those who have dropped out, particularly loud among the "Nones." 

Job, despite his massive afflictions, was a tenacious guy.  He hung on for dear life.  Where in the world was God?  Job says: 

But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
⁹ When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.

Job is nothing if not a spokesman for all these people who are dropping out.  It sounds exactly like something they would say.  But there's this one difference:  Job didn't drop out.  He looked every which way and he didn't find God.  But he didn't cut loose.  He was every which way but loose. 

Job had to have known, down to the very strands of his DNA, that he would ultimately deal with God.  He had lost nearly everything, but he didn't lose his voice.   And it may sound harsh to our quiet and polite Sunday morning ears, but this is what he says: 

God has made my heart faint;
the Almighty has terrified me.
Yet I am not silenced by the darkness,
by the thick darkness that covers my face.

He looked every which way -- north, south, east, and west -- and didn't find God.  But he didn't cut loose; he didn't let go.  Neither did Jesus Christ.  He could have given in.  He could have said to the devil in the wilderness:  "You know, you're right."  But He didn't.  He could have forsaken the cross.   But no, he accepted the cross and was forsaken of God.  "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  But he didn't let go.  It was still:  "MY God, MY God!"

Finally (and this is unfortunate), they snipped out a key verse in this text from Job23:  that is, verse 10.  Remember verses eight and nine (which are part of today's text):  "But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him.  When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him."  Here comes verse ten which they omitted:  "But he (meaning God) knows the way I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold."

I invite you, challenge you, beg of you to draw inspiration from this -- for today and every day:  when your own search for God seems to turn up nothing, cling to the thought that God's search for you, in Jesus Christ, was successful.  Life will be tough.  God, at times, seems unfriendly, absent, or even non-existent.  But in every which way I go, I will not cut loose.  I'm going to come forth as gold.

Amen.

Text:  Job 1:1, 2:1-10

Theme:  "Good and Evil:  A Conversation"

19th Sunday after Pentecost

October 7, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

 

+In the Name of Jesus+

In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.  On another day the angels^[a] came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them to present himself before him. ² And the Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?”

Satan answered the Lord, “From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”

³ Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.”

⁴ “Skin for skin!” Satan replied. “A man will give all he has for his own life. ⁵ But now stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face.”

⁶ The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.”

⁷ So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. ⁸ Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.

⁹ His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”

¹⁰ He replied, “You are talking like a foolish^[b] woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”

In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.

right; he feared God and shunned evil.

Take the letter O out of the word "good" and you get God.  Attach the letter D to the word evil and you get Devil.

In today's reading, we have before us a conversation between good and evil -- ultimately between God and the devil.  This isn't the only such exchange that the Bible records. You may recall the interplay between God and the Devil in the book of Genesis -- with the devil taking the form of a snake.  Then, in the Gospel stories, we have the account of the conversation of Jesus -- God in the flesh -- conversing with the devil in the wilderness. 

In order to set the stage for this conversation in the book of Job, we are introduced to the man himself:  Job.  We are told that he lived in the land of Uz.  In addition, it is recorded that he was "blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil."  Now, to be blameless doesn't mean that you never have sinned.  Quite to the contrary, you have sinned and you have acknowledged that fact.  Then, to use the language of recovery, you "cleaned up your side of the street."  You confessed your sins and, in Job's case, made the required sacrifices.  In all of that process, Job learned to fear God (and fear, here, is understood as reverence) and he shunned evil.  When faced with evil, in whatever form it came in, Job chose against it.

So Job, here, is the topic of conversation.  In fact, he's the ultimate prize.  When God and the devil have a chat, when good and evil begin to talk, what is always at stake is humanity.  If sometimes you feel like a pawn  on someone else's chess board, you may be right. 

It must be said that Job, who we are told had his spiritual and moral ducks in a row, was also a successful man and a family man.  In the first chapter, we read of Job's daughters and sons. The family was close-knit.  We read of feasts and get-togethers.   He owned sheep and camels and oxen and donkeys -- thousands of animals.  He had a large number of servants.  Here in America, we'd put him in the one percent!  This is the man that becomes the topic of conversation.

"One day the angels came to present themselves with the Lord, and Satan came along with them."  Here it is clear that Satan, or the devil, is not another God -- as if God and the devil are equally opposing forces.  The devil is not another quote/unquote "god".  The devil is a fallen angel. If the devil wanted one of his own to go after, it would be Michael, God's archangel.  But as it is, he has bigger fish to fry. Far more delicious to the devil's taste is a dainty little human specimen.  Job fits the bill.

God sees the devil lined up with the angels.  God begins the conversation with a question:  "Where have you come from?"  "From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it."  It's as if he's saying, "You're the one who cast me away from your presence.  What else am I supposed to do?"  The Lord replies:  "Have you considered my servant Job?"  There's a soul for you to try to steal. 

Charlie Daniels got the drift of this in his famous song:

 

The devil went down to Georgia; he was lookin' for a soul to steal;

he was in a bind, cuz he was way behind, and he was willin'to make a deal.

When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot,

So the devil jumped up on a hickory stump, and said "Boy, lemme tell you what

I guess you didn't know it but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you care to take a dare

I'll make a bet with you. Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due.

I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cuz I think I'm better than you.

 

But Job was different than Johnny down in Georgia.  Job didn't see it coming.  And this is more biblically accurate.  While roaming around, evil often lurks in the shadows -- outside the realm of our perception. 

 

In the major motion picture The Devil's Advocate, Satan is portrayed in the form of a wealthy New York lawyer with the interesting name of John Milton. (You might recall that Paradise Lost, a most famous piece of literature, was written by the author, John Milton.)  At one point, Milton (the devil) says to his target (a young attorney in his firm named Kevin):  "Never let em see ya comin'; that's the gaffe, my friend.  You gotta keep yourself small, innocuous -- you know, the little guy.  You'd never think I was the master of the universe, would ya?  I'm a surprise, Kevin.  They don't seem comin'."

 

Later on, in the ultimate scene, Milton says this to his young protege':  "I've been down here with my nose in it since the whole thing began.  I've nurtured every sensation man has been inspired to have.  I cared about what he wanted, and I never judged him.  Why?  Because I never rejected him.  In spite of all his imperfections, I'm a fan of man.  I'm a humanist; I rest my case.  Vanity.  It's definitely my favorite sin.  Kevin, it's so basic.  Self-love.  The all-natural opiate."

 

Back to the Bible.  In scene one, the devil says to God:  "Does (your servant) Job fear God for nothing?"  In other words, "Job's faith in you doesn't amount to diddly squat.  You've given him this great family and all this wealth.  No wonder he believes in you. But what about the little guy?  What about the welfare recipient?  What about the poor soul that has spent weeks and weeks trying to find work?  Did you forget about him?  Sure, Job believes you; you've hooked him up for some silly reason.  Take away his family and his money, and he'll curse you to his face."

 

The Lord responds:  "Very well then, everything he has is in your hands, but on the man himself do not lay a finger." 

 

Job didn't see the devil comin'.  The next thing we know, Job's sons and daughters are dead.  His wealth has been raided.  He's seemingly reduced to nothing.  And Job said this -- not to God, not to the devil, but to no one in particular:  "Naked I have come from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."  "In all this," we are told, "Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing."  Round one goes to God.  Job didn't buckle.  Do we buckle?  Have we buckled?

 

Round two starts just like round one.  Good starts the conversation with evil.  God says to the devil:  "Where have you come from?" The devil replies:  "From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it."  "Have you considered my servant, Job?" God asks.  He's holding on to his integrity, even though you incited me against him."   Thomas More once wrote that "The devil...the prowde spirite...cannot endure to be mocked."  Thus, angrily, the devil replies:  "Skin for skin!  A man will give all he has for his own life.  But stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face."

 

Again, Job didn't see the devil comin'.  His health takes a turn for the worse.  He is afflicted with an awful skin condition.  He is covered head to toe with painful sores.  He is reduced to sitting in the ashes.  Finally, his spouse -- the closest person to him in his earthly life -- speaks up:  "Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!"  Hers is the voice of existential despair -- which is very much alive and speaking quite clearly in our culture today.  "Be done with all of that God talk; join with the rest of us who have long since given up caring."

 

Job says:  "You are talking like a foolish woman.  Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?"  And Job did not sin in what he said.

 

Here is where our text ends, and it makes me mad.  We're left hanging with all kinds of unanswered questions. But  this much is very clear -- based on the text and our own human experiences. 

 

First, good and evil continue to interact; secondly, you and I -- that is, humanity -- are the topic of conversation.  Third, evil lurks in the shadows.  Fourth, we don't see evil comin'.  Fifth, there is more to life and living than who has the best family and the most money.  Sixth, the voices that tell us to curse God, to die, and/or to live a self-centered life are getting louder and louder.

 

The ultimate question is:  what has God done about all of this?  The answer is Jesus Christ.  Job didn't lose his life, but Jesus Christ did -- on a Roman cross.  He died there, willingly, to pay the price for our sins, for all those times when, in thought, word, and deed, we buckled. 

 

Now, risen from the dead and ascended on high, His Spirit strengthens us through the Gospel and the sacraments. We're strengthened to take life as it comes our way, to live in faith toward God and love toward one another.  We're challenged to live blameless and with integrity -- not because in and of ourselves we are blameless and have integrity.  We seek to live that way because of Christ alone. 

 

When the devil and evil, in whatever form they take, come knocking, point them to Jesus Christ.  Let's see how far it gets them.  Your round, my round, our round goes to God.  Christ did not buckle.  And that's where the conversation ultimately ends and the praise begins.

 

Amen.