The Mayberry Preacher

REVISITING REVELATION: YOU DON'T HAVE TO WAIT FOR IT!

Revelation 22: 12-14, 16-17, 20-21; 1 Corinthians 13: 1-8a, 12-13
Steve Lindsley
July 24, 2011

In light of some of the ominous things we’ve talked about in this sermon series on Revelation, which is concluding today, I thought I’d begin with a little joke. 

There once were three men who died and met St. Peter on the outskirts of heaven at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter looked at the first one and said, “Let’s see, according to the report I have on you, you’ve led an outstanding life. You’ve never been in trouble with the law, you haven’t committed any major sins, and your record is impeccable. You can go right on into heaven.” Peter opened the gates and the first man walked in.  

St. Peter picked up his report and looked at the second man, “Well, it says here that you’ve basically led a good life. However, you were involved in some mischief as a young man. But nothing major.  It’s a close call, but I think you’re okay to head in.”  The second man breathed a sigh of relief and quickly ran through the gates.

Peter then turned his attention to the third man, and made a face as he looked over the report.  “Hmm, you’ve led a very troubled life, haven’t you?  You cheated on a math test in middle school, you stole a car, you got into a fistfight with your neighbor, and for five years you failed to file a tax return. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go to purgatory a while to repent.”

The third man lowered his head and started in that direction.  Then St. Peter stopped him. “Hey wait a minute,” he said, “what’s that you’re wearing?”  The man looked down at the Carolina Panthers logo emblazoned on his jacket. “So you’re a Panthers fan, eh?  And I see in your report that you went to Wake Forest, is that true?”  The man nodded his head. St. Peter said, “Well, then, you can get on back here.  You just walk on into heaven.  Forget purgatory – you’ve been there already!” 

It’s funny, of course – because it’s true!  It’s oh so true.  But I didn’t tell you this joke just to tell a joke – you probably gathered that.  I told it because of what struck me when I first heard it – and by the way, it was the Chicago Cubs originally.  Beyond poking fun at a lousy sports team, it reminds us of this obsession we humans – and particularly Christians – have with the afterlife.  Whether we “make the cut!”  Heaven and Hell.  And specifically: which one we’re going to.  Doesn’t this seem to be something that’s always in the deep recesses of our minds?

I mean, we’ve talked about an awful lot of things the past four weeks; things that may have been new to some of us.  Nike power versus Lamb power.  The River of Life and the Tree of Life.  What’s not in Revelation, and what really is left behind.  But when it’s all said and done, the driving force behind much of our thinking about this very last book in the Bible all boils down to this: we want to go to heaven when we die.  And we want to avoid “that other place.”  In fact, for some people it’s been drilled into their brain that this is the all-consuming task for good Christians and, really, the only concern of our life on earth. 

Now I’ll be honest with you: I’ve never been comfortable with that.  I believe God calls us to live faithfully in this world as much for what’s here and now as for the time that is to come.  And contrary to conventional understanding, Revelation really does have something to say about the here and now. Take, for instance, our verses today.  They are, in fact, the final verses of the book, and the entire Bible.  Our good friend John is putting the finishing touches on this elaborate vision where Jesus returns and the world is redeemed.  Except in this instance he is joined by Jesus himself, who speaks up and shares two things.

First, Jesus refers to himself as the “Alpha” and the “Omega,” which happen to be the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.  Today we’d say Jesus is the “A” and the “Z!”  What we’d really be saying, of course, is that Jesus is the beginning and the end of everything.  And second, Jesus tells John, over and over and over again, that he is coming.  In fact, the Greek verb for “come” is used six times in this passage.  The Spirit says come.  The bride says come.  Surely I am coming.  I am coming soon!  And John responds to this emphatic repetition with an appropriate proclamation: Come, Lord Jesus!

Indeed, come Lord Jesus!  You ever shared that sentiment before?  I had a friend growing up whose grandmother would always say that, he told me.  She’d be watching the news or reading the paper and he’d hear her say it softly, many times, usually preceded with a sigh: Come, Lord Jesus!
What about you?  When you hear about the gridlock in our nation’s capital, where people put political agendas ahead of the greater good, have you ever thought, “Come, Lord Jesus?”  When one more tsunami or earthquake devastates another country, especially a country that in some way has already been devastated enough, have you ever thought, “Come, Lord Jesus?”  When 93 people are murdered in shootings at a summer youth camp in Norway and in a bomb blast in downtown Oslo, all done by one man in the name of Jesus, when you hear something like that because it actually happened two days ago, do you think to yourself, “Come, Lord Jesus?”  It’s a prayer of intervention, of course.  But it’s also something else: it’s a prayer of hope. 

Still, we don’t always see that hope when we read Revelation.  We fall into the trap of thinking that this book is only concerned with what’s going to happen in the future, rather than what’s happening right now.  We become absorbed with prophecies and predictions rather than the realities of today.  Which is not hard to do, is it?  Because when we focus on what may happen at some point down the road, we conveniently sidestep all the problems going on right now.

And see, that’s where I have a problem.  Because if the essence of the Christian faith is all about prophetic know-how, if all we’re supposed to care about is getting off this third rock from the sun as soon as possible, then why is the Bible so thick??  Why is our Bible comprised of 66 books that talk about loving our neighbor and forgiving our enemies and clothing the naked and bearing our crosses and being good stewards of the environment?  Why do we have these stories about women and men of faith who followed God with their very lives, not always perfectly, but always making a difference?  And most of all, if being a Christian is only about going to heaven, then why do we read about a man sent by God to redeem the world – “for God so loved the world” – so that all people can know everlasting peace and grace and mercy?

More and more I’m realizing that too many folks have grown up with this skewed idea of Revelation, and a version of Christianity that at its very heart is rooted in fear.  So here’s the truth, people: Revelation is not some mysterious prophecy we’re supposed to figure out.  Revelation is less about predicting future events, than it is about painting a picture of God’s kingdom on earth, and – and this is important – and painting that picture in a way that affects our behavior today.  Real time.  And it does so not by scaring us into submission – which is what fear does – but by instilling in us the promise and hope of what’s to come.  And there’s only one thing that can do that; one thing that can carry us through the brokenness to yearn for what is already here and what is still yet to come.  And that, my friends, is love.

How crazy is that – seeing the book of Revelation as a book of love?!?  But I have to think that love is what the writer John was overwhelmed with as he set sail from the island of Patmos after this grand vision, heading back home.  Love is what led him to put pen to paper and dictate what he saw and heard – about a God who’s our “A” and our “Z;” a God who assures us time and time and time again that he is, in fact, coming.  Because of the love.

And the thing is, it’s not just any love, like the love that’s captured in a schmaltzy greeting card. It’s the kind of love that the apostle Paul writes about in his 13th chapter.  This love takes practice, takes intentionality, takes dedication.  It’s more than simply a feeling of the heart; it’s an act of the will.  It is not about trying to scare us into compliance or painting a future scenario where this world is destroyed in favor of a new one.  That’s not love.  It’s not about somehow convincing people of faith that to be strong in faith means being strong in the world.  That’s not love.   And it’s not about living our lives with little regard for the here and now, thinking only of what it can get us in the life to come.  That’s not love.

This is a love made for the body of Christ.  A love which reminds us that no one has all the answers; for while one day we will see face to face, now all we see is in a mirror dimly.  A love which points us to something other than the letter of the law: the spirit behind it; so that we don’t idolize anything other than the God we worship.  A love which transforms the individual and community so that our lives are ruled not by the whims and ways of a broken world but by a God who calls us into God's shalom.  And a love which pounds into our brains, so we never forget, that this love is always greater than fear; always greater than hate.

And that is why we don’t have to wait for the kingdom Revelation concludes with. We don’t have to wait for God’s love to move mightily through us and bring about everything we hope for.  That kingdom is a reality right here and right now! It is among us; God is among us; Love is among us.  And all we need to do is to choose to put that love into action.   

You know, I’ve been thinking all this past week about that song I sang for you last Sunday – that Larry Norman tune about people getting trampled and children dying and there being no time left because you’ve been left behind.  And I’ll be honest; I felt kind of bad about dumping that on you, and I didn’t want that to be the last song you heard in this sermon series.  So I set out this week to do something I don’t usually attempt, which is to write a tune with an impending deadline.  Doesn’t always work out.  But out of it came a song about the kind of love we’re given as a gift; to put into action and live faithfully and confidently in a broken, kingdom-desperate world:

I may speak with the tongues of the angels
I may give my all away
I may move the mountains with my belief
But if I don't have love - If I don't have love...
I can use my power for selfish gain
Living like I wanna live
I can die a martyr and a saint
But if I don't have love - If I don't have love...
I once couldn't see
Now I believe, I believe

In faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love, greatest is love

When the world defines you by what you do
Love will show you whose you are
All a part of God's great family
This is why we love, this is why we love
Battles rage and lines are drawn in the sand
Cause we learn to live in fear
Love comes down with the promise of something new
It’s greater than the fear, love is greater than the fear
Sometimes we can't see
Lord help us believe, believe

In faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Faith, hope
And the greatest of these is love
Greatest is love

The kingdom is at hand, my friends.  Come, Lord Jesus!  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

REVISITING REVELATION: WHAT'S REALLY "LEFT BEHIND"

Revelation 21: 1-6
Steve Lindsley
July 17, 2011

When I was in high school, I wanted to be just like Mark Camacho. Mark was a student at NC State – but that’s not why I wanted to be like him.  Mark was tall and had a great mustache – but that’s not why I wanted to be like him.  The reason I wanted to be like Mark Camacho was because Mark helped out with our high school’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes that met every Wednesday night.  Specifically, Mark played guitar and led music for us, which I thought was pretty cool and might be, you know, something I’d want to do someday.

Mark let me help him lead music, and I learned a lot of songs from him; some of which I still play today when I lead music for a retreat or conference.  But there’s one song that, for the life of me, I wish we never had.  And it wasn’t until later that I realized that.  It’s a tune by a guy named Larry Norman – that name probably doesn’t mean much you, but back in the 70’s he was in many respects the father of contemporary Christian music.  Larry came from a fundamentalist bent, which explains a lot about a tune of his that Mark and I led at our FCA meetings.

It’s called I Wish We’d All Been Ready, and as best as I can tell it's Larry’s take of Revelation.  The song has to be one of the biggest disconnects ever between music and lyrics.  The tune itself is slow and soothing, all Kum-ba-Yah like; the kind of melody that causes you to put your arms around the person on either side of you and start swaying back and forth.  But the words – well, the words are something else entirely. The first verse goes like this:

Life was filled with guns and war,
And everyone got trampled on the floor,
I wish we'd all been ready
Children died, the days grew cold,
A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold,
I wish we'd all been ready
There’s no time to change your mind
The Son has come and you’ve been left behind

Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?  Check out the next verse; it gets better:

A man and wife asleep in bed,
She hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone,
I wish we'd all be ready,
Two men walking up a hill,
One disappears and one's left standing still,
I wish we'd all been ready,
There's no time to change your mind,
The Son has come and you've been left behind.

And we’d always go for the big finish:

You’ve been left behind
You’ve been left behind
You’ve been left.
 
All these years later, and you know, I’m still haunted by that song – and not the utterly depressing and hopeless message it conveys, but the fact that nearly every Wednesday night, I played a part in imposing that depressing and hopeless message onto a hundred or so of my fellow high school students and friends.  People who, for all I know, have grown up to be adults who actually believe it.

And maybe that’s one reason why I feel so strongly about the kinds of things we’ve been doing in this sermon series – getting all Toto-like and pulling back the curtain on the mystery of Revelation.  There is so much in this book that we do not see, and so much that’s not in there that we think is.  One of which is captured in the last verse of that song; that whole bit about a husband mysteriously disappearing and a fellow traveler vanishing from sight.  It’s talking, of course, about the Rapture. 

The Rapture is something that pops up in our consciousness and culture every now and then – whether it’s in a song by a guy named Larry, or a California preacher named Harold Camping, or a book series.  You remember the “Left Behind” books?  I actually read the first one – I had a young person in my church at the time who was reading it and had lots of questions.  And I’ll admit – it’s a captivating read.  Authors Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins are pretty decent writers. 

I’ll never forget that opening chapter – how airline pilot Rayford Steele, a self-professed agnostic, discovers much to his horror that dozens of passengers on his transcontinental flight have mysteriously vanished in mid-flight.  The only trace of them is their clothing neatly folded in a pile where they last sat or stood.  From there the story, recounted in a dozen books, launches into an epic battle between good and evil; good represented by the “Tribulation Force,” a self-appointed conglomerate of “left behind” believers who use souped-up Land Rovers and state-of-the-art artillery to fight the Antichrist and his minions.  It’s a decent little tale of good verses evil on a cosmic, universal scale.  But then again, so is Star Wars. 

If you recall our first sermon a few weeks ago, you’ll remember that the word “rapture” does not appear anywhere in the Book of Revelation – or the word “Antichrist,” for that matter.  But there are other things that are missing too: there’s no mention of people suddenly vanishing; no random piles of folded clothes laying around.  There’s no end of the world in Revelation – did you know that? It’s true!  And there’s certainly no souped-up Land Rovers or state-of-the-art artillery – lamb power, remember?  It may be a great read and all, but the whole Left Behind saga is not based in scripture.  It is 100% fiction.

The problem, though, is that this hasn’t stopped some from believing otherwise, either openly or sub-conciously.  Every once in a while in the New Testament class I teach at the community college, when we start studying Revelation, I’ll get a comment from a student along these lines: You know, Dr. Lindsley, reading Revelation is way too confusing.  And that’s why I’m so glad I’ve got the Left Behind books to help me understand it better!  Isn’t that kind of like going to the Grand Canyon and only looking at the postcards in the gift shop?  I’ve also heard some suggest that it’s not really all that necessary or important to be focused on environmental issues – things like reducing CO2 emmissions or recycling or protecting rain forests – since this world is going to end someday anyway, probably sooner than later, so why bother?  Besides, they go on to say, God is going to take us to a “new world.”

In fact, let’s take a closer look at that “new world,” shall we?  That’s something that’s actually in there; in our scripture reading today.  It’s near the end of John’s grand vision on the island Patmos, and evil has been vanquished forever.  The kingdom of God is truly at hand!  And John tells us about this “new heaven” and “new earth,” and a “new Jerusalem” that comes down from the clouds, and how God will dwell with us in this New Jerusalem – not as a distant relative way on the other side of town, but more like our next-door neighbor!

But here’s the thing about this “new earth” – it isn’t “new” as in “totally different;” like when you trade in your beat-up truck for a brand new Lexus.  This isn’t a “new earth” as in the old one no longer exists.  The actual Greek, in all three instances – new earth, new heaven, new Jerusalem – the actual Greek is literally rendered “re-newed” or “restored.”  So this is the same old earth, the same old heaven, the same old Jerusalem; except they’re not old anymore.  They’ve all been forever and wonderfully transformed from what they were – before “Fluffy” came along and opened that scroll with his awesome lamb power! 

And you know, I love the way that John reacts to all of this –  he says it’s like “a bride adorned for her husband.”  Guys, you remember what it was like standing at the front of the church on your wedding day, when that door in the back was flung open to reveal your wife-to-be in her wedding finest – you remember how that made you feel?  Your knees got all weak, your stomach knotted up, your heart started racing and your breath got all shallow; and you were totally oblivious to the goofy ear-to-ear grin that suddenly spread across your face and that everyone told you about later.  Your whole body was rejoicing in that “revelation!” 

That’s exactly what every one of us will feel when God’s kingdom on earth comes into our view.  We’ll be overwhelmed by joy; basking in the “lamb power” that moves us to become servants, disciples, fellowshippers of the risen Lord.  It’s what leads us to do whatever we can to help bring about that kingdom right here and now – in the way we live and in how we treat others, in how we care for God’s creation and how we work for things like justice and compassion and peace.  And it certainly informs our understanding of how all of this will happen, which is why I don’t sing Larry Norman’s song or read Left Behind books anymore.

Although I gotta confess – I will say that LaHaye and Jenkins were right about the whole “left behind” thing.  They were right!  They just got the “what” wrong.  Because there is something that does not make it into the new Jerusalem; something that is eternally banished and shut out from the city gates.  Just like John says:

Death will be no more;
Mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
For the old things have passed away.   

Those kinds of things are signs of the Nike power that used to call the shots.  But not any more!  Their place now is outside the city walls, never to enter again.  Never. Just imagine that!

In fact, seriously, imagine that.  Close your eyes, if you would, and picture yourself in this Renewed Jerusalem.  You walk over to the city walls and look down at what's on the outside looking in.  Look at what you see there.  Suffering and Persecution are down there, standing right next to Injustice and Inequality; and none of them can get in.  AIDS and Hunger are trying to find a back door, but they never will.  Cancer doesn’t stand a chance of making it into the city.  Partisanship and gridlock and egos – nope.  Depression and Anxiety are left out, as are Hate and Prejudice and Racism.  War – for the first time ever, Nike is on the losing end!   Even Death – the ultimate manifestation of Nike power – even Death can’t get in.  These are the things that are “left behind.”  You can open your eyes now.

I want you to hold on to that picture in your mind, okay?  Hold on to it when the world dishes out its “Nike-ness,” when you are afraid that you may be left behind.  Because if anything that picture of Revelation, painted for us in scripture, tells us that we do not have to be afraid anymore.  We can respond by pledging our allegiance to lamb power even when the world around us continues to pledge theirs to old Nike.  We can proclaim the inclusive nature of God’s kingdom as a place where all people can live in peace.  And most of all, we can declare an eternal hope – hope that renews, hope that sustains, hope that can make a difference in a sometimes hopeless world.

And I’ll tell you something – if that were a song, and it probably is, it’d be a song that we’d be more than proud to keep on singing.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

REVISITING REVELATION: NIKE MEETS.....FLUFFY??

Revelation 5: 1-6, 11-13
Steve Lindsley
July 10, 2011

I’ve enjoyed the conversations I’ve had with some of you over the past week about last Sunday’s sermon and this sermon series we’re revisiting on the book of Revelation.  What I’ve heard is that you appreciate the fact that it’s not all about death and destruction and doom, but there’s a lot of hope in there too.  You’ve expressed surprise that the words “antichrist” and “rapture” are nowhere to be found in the book.  You’ve mentioned that the river and tree of life in the 22nd chapter are powerful images letting us know that God is in charge and that God wants to restore and renew the world, not destroy it.

And one of you offered a particularly insightful observation: I’ve never thought of the Roman empire in a negative light before.  And we typically don’t, do we?  Today we recognize ancient Rome as a major contributor to modern society in culture and art and literature.  We have them to thank for the calendar we use and our form of government.  We think of amazing architecture and a modern road system – things that, thousands of years later, still bear their mark on us today. We think of Rome and we overwhelmingly see a model for modernization and human ingenuity.

But progress, as is sometimes the case, does not come without a price; and there’s this darker side to Roman civilization that the early Christians knew all too well.  It’s hard to see – unless we take time, as we talked about last week, to pull back that curtain; to “unveil” what was previously hidden from view.  And when we pull back the curtain on Rome, what we find is an empire who ruled its territory and the people completely and ruthlessly, showing no mercy and obliterating anything and anyone who stood in their way. 

Images of the horrors of Roman rule are found throughout the book of Revelation.  For example: you know those Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse we hear so much about?  Think about it – there’s the white horse that conquers, the red one that makes war, the black horse that unleashes famine, and the pale green horse of death.  Again, like so much in Revelation, the symbolism of these horses is far more important than whether they’re actual horses or not.  These horses are John’s way of describing the horrific and devastating consequences of those who dared to cross Roman rule – they were conquered, they were victims of unrelenting warfare, they suffered disease and famine because of that warfare, and then they died.

Citizens of the Roman empire were either patrons of the system or casualties of it; and there was no middle ground. The gap between the powerful and powerless was monumental.  Everything about the Roman empire focused on expanding that empire through unquestioned loyalty to the emperor.  One “had faith” in the emperor in the same way you and I have faith in God – and those who did not share this were either ostracized or persecuted.  To be part of the empire was to support a never-ending quest, on all fronts, to literally conquer the world.

In fact, this very word “conquer” comes into play big-time in our passage today.  John is painting this scene for us: a vision of God’s holy throne and a scroll that no one is worthy enough to open.  And this upsets John – because he knows that when this scroll is opened, it will cause God to leap into action and make all of the world’s wrongs right.  So he laments that no one is “powerful” enough to do this. 

But then John is comforted when he’s told that “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has already conquered, so that he can now open the scroll.”  This is a classic Jewish symbol of power – a Lion, and an offshoot of David, the great king of Israel lore.  So John is led to believe that this is the one strong enough and worthy enough of opening the scroll and doing what needs to be done.

Now before we go any further, let’s pull back a little bit more on that curtain – let’s pull I back on the word in this passage for “conquer.”  In Greek, the language that Revelation and the entire New Testament was originally written in, the word for “conquer” was Nike.  Spelled: N-I-K-E.  Which in our day and time we pronounce how…….?  Nike was the Roman goddess for Victory, and it probably wouldn’t surprise us to learn that she was symbolized by a little swoosh emblem; the same that adorns everything from our sneakers to an athlete’s apparel to about anything where the motto “Just Do It” applies.  In fact, “Just Do It” is a pretty good way of summarizing what Nike meant to the Roman world.  Nike wasn’t just celebrated, it was worshipped.  It was the motivating force behind the empire’s rule and the expansion of the empire.  It embodied the very heart and soul of the ancient world’s greatest power.

So the image John encounters here is a commanding one: a Lion, King David, Nike-like power – this is what is supposed to open the scroll, this is what should take on the Roman domination system and deal it a final death blow.  And it makes all sense in the world, doesn’t it – power verses power, might verses might, two boxers in the ring and the strongest one comes out on top! 

Because after all, that’s how we fight power, isn’t it?  We dish back more of the same.  If some nation has x-number of nuclear warheads, we make X-number too; and maybe a few more, you know, just in case.  Which leads them to do likewise.  If a public figure becomes the victim of harsh rhetoric in a political ad or newspaper column, they respond with the same vitriol, do they not?  Fighting fire with fire.  Nike versus Nike.  It’s what we’ve come to expect, and it’s what we typically get.

Except it isn’t what John gets, is it?  As John careens his neck to look around the throne to see this “power” he’s told will prevail, a power he understandingly expects to be all Nike-like, he sees something totally unexpected.  He sees a lamb.  A lamb, people!  And not just any lamb.  The actual word in Greek here suggests a very diminutive creature, the runt of the lamb litter.  And I really like the way one writer describes it: he calls it Fluffy.  Fluffy the little runt lamb.  Fluffy the lamb who, as we read on, is slain; slaughtered even. 

So what we have here in the fifth chapter of Revelation, my friends; what John of Patmos encounters in the midst of this grand vision, can be summarized as this: Nike meets Fluffy.  Nike meets Fluffy!  The classic symbol of victory and conquest; verses a slaughtered, helpless, minuscule runt of a lamb.  World power verses “lamb power.” 

Now let’s stop for a minute and let’s ask the obvious: what did those early Christians think of Fluffy?  Those who were ostracized, ignored, persecuted in a Nike-ruled world?  Was Fluffy really who they imagined having in their corner?  Did they believe the ways of nonviolence and grace and self-denial could ever make a difference in a world sold out to violence and heartlessness and selfishness?

Do we today? How can Fluffy ever be good enough when the world dishes out its “Nike-ness?”  How can “lamb power” make a difference in the on-going battle with terrorism?  How can “lamb power” help a middle-aged man fighting tooth-and-nail with his addictions?  How does “lamb power” matter to someone held captive by their painful past, and the demons that rage inside?

You know, one of the reasons I think it’s so hard for us to “get” Revelation as North American Christians is that, at heart, we’re conflicted.  On one hand we’re in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in the early Church who suffered at the hands of an oppressive empire.  But at the same time, we are part of today’s empire.  And we kind of merge the two together, don’t we?  I mean, we’ve been known to sing in the same worship service how Jesus is the “worthy lamb that was slain” and how we are “onward Christian soldiers marching as to war.”  If this “Fluffy” is really the symbol of hope that we, Christians of the 21st century, are supposed to be pledging our allegiance to, then we’ve got some explaining to do! 

When people of faith adopt the language and nuances of Nike power to encounter and act in the world, we lose a part of our collective soul.  Because while there’s a great difference between Nike and Fluffy, that difference has nothing to do with who is more powerful.  We do not serve Jesus by being more powerful; we serve Jesus by being more faithful.  Let me say that again: we do not serve Jesus by being more powerful; we serve him by being more faithful.  God’s kingdom on earth is not revealed because we force anything on anyone – God’s kingdom on earth comes about when we speak the truth in love. 

And this, my friends, is the fundamental difference between Nike and Fluffy; between the world’s power and the power of the lamb:

• Nike tells us that “the one who dies with the most toys wins.”  Fluffy tells us that our worth is not determined by what we own but by who we belong to.
• Nike tells us that strength and power and domination are what bind us together.  Fluffy dares to tell us that we are bound together by sacrificial love.
• Nike tells us that a person’s identity comes from their place in the world.  Fluffy tells us that a person’s identity comes from simply being a child of God.
• Nike suggests that “if you are not with us, you’re against us.”  Fluffy has the courage and faith to call into question who the “us” really is.
• And Nike, as we all know, tells us to “just do it.”  Just do it!  But Fluffy calls us to put aside our wants and desires, and focus on fulfilling God’s mission in the world.

You know, sometimes it helps to not just read about Nike verses Fluffy but to see it in action.  I see it every day; in a picture hanging on my office wall. I’ve shown it to you before.  The picture was taken on June 4th, 1989 near Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China.  On that day, you recall, Chinese troops entered the square and killed tens of thousands of students who were peacefully protesting against their government for basic human rights and freedoms they were denied. 

The picture shows a row of Chinese tanks making their way to the square – you only see one or two, but there were a dozen or so in line that day.  And yet they are unable to move, these tanks; because of one man – a single man – who is standing in the way, defiant.  If you were to watch the video on YouTube, you’d see the lead tank move to the right to go around the man, and then you’d watch in shock as the man moved to block it.  There were a few moments of uncertain pause between Nike and Fluffy.  And then the tank would move back to the left, and the man would counter again.  And then, amazingly, you’d watch this man climb on top of the tank – on top of the tank! – and bang on the metal hatch as if to reason with the soldier inside that this is not right, that he doesn’t have to do this, that there really is a more excellent way….

That, my friends, is how Fluffy opens God’s scroll and unveils God’s kingdom on earth – lamb power at its diminutive finest!  What would our world look like, indeed, if we all truly followed the way of the lamb.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

REVISITING REVELATION: A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT

Revelation 22: 1-5, Ezekiel 47: 7-12
Steve Lindsley
July 3, 2011

Last week I had the pleasure, along with Pepper Mayes, of taking six of our middle schoolers to the Massanetta Middle School Conference.  In addition to having loads of fun with a fantastic group of kids, I also got to reconnect with some of my ministry colleagues who were there with groups of their own.  Kind of weird – years before we had attended these things as kids ourselves; and now we’re the “responsible adults.”  Funny the way life works!

Anyway, I was telling one of my friends that I was going to revisit a sermon series on Revelation that I preached a few years back.  I explained that recent events like Harold Camping’s prophecy about the world ending in May had spruned on an interesting debate in our culture about what the Bible really says about the end of the world.  I told her I felt the need to reignite that conversation with my church.  Kelly’s response was not very affirming: Good luck with that!  she exclaimed.  I could hear what she was also saying between the lines: Better you than me! 

And, you know, I guess that’s to be expected, don’t you think?  It’s interesting how we interact with the last book of the Bible: we don’t talk about Revelation as much as we talk around it.  We know it’s there and maybe we can quote a verse or two, but when it comes to really understanding what it says, we do one of two things.  We either ignore it all together, due to lack of interest or fear.  Or we put an awful lot of trust in what other people say about it.

Everyone remembers the most recent example with Harold Camping, a pastor out in California, who created quite a firestorm when he predicted that the world was going to end this past May.  But he certainly wasn’t the first.  Back in 1992, a pastor in South Korea, Reverend Lee Kim, predicted that the Rapture was going to take place on October 28th. Twenty thousand Koreans in South Korea, Los Angeles and New York City took the prediction seriously.  In an eerie nod to Camping, hundreds quit jobs and left their families to prepare for their trip to heaven. Rim’s church paid for costly ads in the Los Angeles and New York Times, urging readers to prepare for their journey through the skies – which, as we all know, has not come to pass yet.

You probably know about the Left Behind book series, a fictional account supposedly based on Revelation.  For those hungering for something after the 16 books, there’s an accompanying website, www.leftbehind.com, which offers up-to-date analysis of world events and their relation to the second coming of Christ, based on the collective interpretation of authors Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins.  It does come with a price – literally.  $19.95, to be exact, which gives you membership in its “prophecy club” and grants you “preferred access” to special sections of the website not available to the average internet surfer. Because when it comes to knowing important stuff like what the Bible says about the end times, only those who can afford to pay should get to know!

Things like this are the reason my job as pastor is never boring, often challenging; and why I’ve chosen to revisit this sermon series, updating it to 2011.  Because while predictions come and go, whether they’re from Harold Camping or someone else, one thing hasn’t changed: and that is our tendency over the past 2000 years to focus on what we think is in Revelation, rather than doing the hard work of actually finding out what is.  And perhaps most importantly, what isn’t. 

Case in point (and this is going to shock some of you): if I were to ask you to name two concepts that lie at the heart of Revelation, chances are you’d say the rapture and the antichrist, right?  But here’s the thing: neither one of those terms are found anywhere in Revelation!  An “antichrist” is mentioned a couple of times in 1 and 2 Peter; it’s the name the writer uses for someone who is promulgating incorrect doctrine in the early church.  Their teachings, in the writer’s opinion, were “against Christ” – anti-christ.  Now we, of course, have made it out to mean something else entirely – son of Satan ushering in the end of the world, and the arch nemesis in apocalyptic horror movies.  But if we are talking about what is in the Bible – the foundation of our faith and, second to Jesus himself, the revelation of God to the world – if we’re talking about the Bible, an antichrist was nothing more than a misguided teacher.

And as you’re digesting that, try this on for size:  “Rapture” was a concept developed not by an inspired writer of scripture but by an 18th-century Baptist preacher who randomly strung together verses out of the Old and New Testaments to create a cosmic calendar concluding with the world’s demise.   Now you can read the 22 chapters of Revelation as many times as you want, but no matter how many times you do, you will never find the word “rapture” in there.  It’s a simple fact!

So why do we make such a big deal about these things?  Why do we talk about the Antichrist like we do, and why do we blindly accept the idea of Rapture as the gospel truth?  Sometimes it’s easier to believe what someone else tells us, rather than doing the hard work of finding out for ourselves.

If we’re going to find out what Revelation has to say to those of us trying to live faithfully in the 21st century, we have to dig deeper.  We have to embrace the mystery of Revelation.  It’s kind of like in The Wizard of Oz, you know, when Dorothy and the rest are standing in the heart of the Emerald Castle before the Great Wizard.  It’s a powerful and shocking and frightening scene – until Dorothy’s dog Toto grabs the green curtain in its teeth and pulls it to the side.  Remember that?  Remember how different things looked on the other side of the curtain compared to what they looked like in front of it?

That’s what you and I need to do when it comes to Revelation – we need to pull the curtain aside to see what’s really there.  In fact, that’s pretty much what the Greek word for “Revelation” means – to uncover or reveal; to pull aside the covering so that what was not previously known is made known. That’s what I hope you and I get to do over the next three weeks – to tug at that curtain a little bit each Sunday and move beyond our fear of the unknown, or what we’ve heard from others, so we can see something we haven’t seen before.

Like, for instance, a river.  In the very last chapter, there’s this river.  We kind of miss the river, don’t we?  We’re much more drawn to the bloodshed and war and death and famine in Revelation – which says something about us, doesn’t it?  But there it is – this river.  And we find ourselves alongside it; a river whose waters are “bright as crystal,” flowing from the very throne of God.  And that’s not the only thing we see – on either side of the river is the “tree of life.”  And what’s significant about this tree is that it bears fruit year-round; fruit which has the ability to “heal the nations.”  That’s some pretty amazing fruit!

Pull back the curtain a little more and we discover that this is not the first time we’ve happened upon this river – the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel mentioned it, and the trees, near the conclusion of his book:

On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food.  Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary.  Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.  Wherever the river goes, everything will live and be fresh.

You know what the great thing about Ezekiel’s river is?  It flows from the sanctuary – the sacred temple in Jerusalem.  Which is extraordinary, to say the least – because the people the prophet was speaking to had seen with their own eyes that very temple burned to the ground, as the Jewish people were taken from their homeland to live in Babylon. 

So Ezekiel’s prophecy is a vision – a vision of old things being made new.  And not just the temple!  Even the people are transformed through this river.  Healed of their past sufferings; renewed once again to serve and worship God.  Of course, it’s not a literal river or tree Ezekiel describes here.  It’s something more significant than that!  It’s a metaphor; a powerful metaphor for the restoration of God’s people as their time of exile comes to a close.  It is a commanding symbol and promise of hope when all hope seems lost.

That same river – liturgically speaking – flowed some 600 years into the future, all the way to a group of Christians in middle first-century Palestine who knew all too well about lost hope. Like their predecessors, they too had seen their holy city and temple burned to the ground – this time by the Roman Empire.  Over the years this new power persecuted those who professed faith in anyone other than the Emperor.  And it wasn’t always persecution in the classical sense: hangings on crosses and beheadings and all that nastiness.

To be a Christian in that day and time was about being a social outcast, a weirdo; unable to participate in the commerce of the day.  It meant sacrificing your social status, your financial well-being, your clout and your standing.  It meant not being able to buy in the marketplace because the only coins they used were ones with the emperor’s image on it, and you didn’t use those kind of coins.  Being a Christian back then meant loving your enemies in a world where enemies were either converted or destroyed.  It meant pledging your allegiance to a crucified carpenter in a world which daily sold out its soul to power and conquest and victory.  In some ways, that kind of persecution was worse than death.

And yet even in that world – especially in that world – a river continued to run through it.  God’s river.  A river of life, surrounded by trees of life; reminding the faithful that there is hope in a hopeless world, that healing can take place in a world torn asunder.  And a river whose flow never, ever stops – because things like grace and mercy and love are continuous, like a current that can’t be diverted, even when those things are sometimes hard to sense or see.

So today, you and I drink deep from the waters of Revelation’s river.  We eat heartily from the fruit of Revelation’s tree.  And we do this every time God’s people gather together in worship, every time a child is baptized, every time the bread and cup are laid out on this table.  We drink and eat from Revelation’s river and tree every time someone chooses to lay a grudge aside, every time a hungry person is fed, every time someone goes out of their way to do what they think Jesus would’ve done.  We embrace the truth of Revelation every time we put our trust and faith not in what others or our culture have to say, but in a God who never forgets God’s people, who brings the exiles back home, who promises all of us sanctuary and shelter and an eternal home.

This is the message Revelation speaks to us, if only we listen, if only we put aside our fears and pull back the curtain to see what’s really there: hope in a hopeless world.  I wonder what other things we’ll get to see!  Thanks be to God, AMEN.