The Jagged, Jarring Word

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

July 15, 2012

The Jagged, Jarring Word

Amos 7:7-15

“Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”

(Mark 4:9)

Seems pretty straightforward, doesn’t it:

God talks and we listen;

Jesus speaks and we hear.

We listen,

we hear,

we learn.

And then we act upon the words we’ve heard,

as we live our lives doing God’s will:

“thy will be done on earth as in heaven.”

That’s the life you and I are called to

as children of God,

and disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ.

But of course it isn’t as simple as that, is it?

God’s words as they come to us through the Bible,

Jesus’ teachings,

can confuse us;

two people hear the same words,

and come to opposite conclusions.

The history of our faith is a history marked by

disagreement and differences

even when we are called to unity in the Spirit.

Even when the words seem so clear,

our Lord Jesus himself can confound us,

as we’ve learned twice recently:

first in the lesson of the adulterous woman,

and just last week in the lesson of the hemorrhaging woman.

Scripture that seemed so clear, so straightforward,

and yet our Lord seemed to walk right past the words.

What Jesus wants us to learn is that

faithful interpretation of Scripture

is always grounded in grace and love,

for our Lord Jesus Christ, the Living Word,

is the grace and love of God

made flesh.

Every now and then, though,

it is nice to dip into the written word,

and come away sure,

come away certain of our understanding,

of what Jesus teaches us,

of what God expects of us.

And among the clearest lessons the Bible teaches

throughout its pages, in both Old and New Testaments

is God’s concern for the poor, the outcast,

the marginalized,

those who lack food, clothing,

the basic necessities of life.

Passage after passage makes this so clear.

As just one example, God spoke through the prophet Isaiah

saying to us:

“seek justice,
   rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
   plead for the widow.”

(Isaiah 1)

Even Mary, the mother of our Lord,

understood God’s concern for the poor when she sang,

God has scattered the proud …

and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

(Luke 1:51-53)

But we struggle with these lessons;

we don’t hear them as God spoke through the prophets,

as Jesus taught them.

We filter them,

dilute them, weaken them

to suit our own thinking,

our own temperaments.

We do as much as we feel comfortable doing

and then we push back,

protesting that we are doing all we can,

and thinking, if not saying,

that if only some of those people who are struggling

would just work a little harder like we do,

then they wouldn’t be so needy.

But God has no sympathy for such thinking;

God condemns it harshly,

and no book make the point clearer than Amos.

More than 700 years before the birth of our Lord,

the people of Israel were living comfortable lives,

wealth and affluence abounded.

But God saw that the people had lost their way,

that they had become idolatrous.

No, they were not worshiping golden calves

or pagan gods;

They had become idolatrous

in their materialism,

their focus on their own comfort,

the smug satisfaction they took

in their own success.

And so God sent Amos

to tell them that they had strayed

far from God’s word.

God did not condemn the people for the fact of their success;

God does not condemn the wealthy for being wealthy.

The passage from the first letter to Timothy is not,

“Money is the root of all evil”;

it is, “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”

What God saw among the people of Israel

was that in their affluence

they had grown indifferent to the needs of the less fortunate;

their success had gone to their heads

leaving them callous,

with out compassion or concern for others.

Amos came speaking God’s harsh words to the Israelites,

jarring, jagged words,

“I will not look upon [you],

I will not accept;

I will not listen;

I take no delight in;

I despise,

I hate.”

God imposes upon us,

and Jesus teaches us

that we have a responsibility for seeking justice,

economic and social justice for all,

and especially for the poor and the outcast.

We are called to build the Kingdom of God

and that is a world in which there is no want,

no hunger,

no need.

We hear Jesus say,

“How hard it will be for those who have wealth

to enter the kingdom of God….

it is easier  for a camel

 to go through the eye of a needle

than for someone who is rich

to enter the kingdom of God.”

(Mark 10:13)

and it sounds like Jesus is condemning the wealthy.

        

But Jesus is simply reminding us

that we cannot serve God and wealth;

and that if we chase the idol of money,

of consumerism, of materialism

of our own gains,

God will be left behind.

We don’t like hearing this kind of message.

Neither did the Israelites 2700 years ago.

After hearing Amos’ words,

Amaziah, the chief priest, did not praise Amos

for his faithfulness to Scripture,

for his faithfulness to the spirit of the Lord God;

He told Amos to get out of town,

leave the country:

“the land is not able to bear your words

…Go, earn your bread in the land of Judah,

away from us,

prophesy some place [else]”

Put another way:

“We don’t like your message;

Leave so we don’t have to hear it.”

The fact is that those who have more

are called to a higher standard,

they have a greater responsibility

for those who have not been as fortunate.

In the letter to Timothy we read,

“As for those who are rich,

command them not to be haughty,

or to set their hopes

on the uncertainty of riches,

but rather on God….

They are to do good,

to be rich in good works,

generous,

and ready to share…”

(1 Timothy 6:17)             

We are to seek justice as part of our call

to build the Kingdom,

and that means making a place at the table

for the marginalized

assuring to their needs,

not stopping or letting up as long

as there is even one who is without.

We can protest we are doing as much as we can

but God holds his plumb line up against us

to show us that while in our own eyes

we may think we look fine,

by God’s standards we are out of plumb.      

There is an old saying that God’s words

are “to comfort the afflicted”,

but they are also “to afflict the comfortable”,

to be jarring,

to have a jagged edge to them,

to move us from complacency,

to remind us that where there is injustice,

including economic and social injustice,

God calls us to action.

As our Lord tells us so directly:

“seek justice,

 rescue the oppressed,

defend the orphan,

 plead for the widow.”

…

“let justice roll down like waters,

and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream”

(Amos 5:24)

Could this be any clearer?

Let anyone with ears to hear listen.

AMEN

Heard and Healed

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

July 8, 2012

Heard and Healed

Mark 5:25-34

It was through sheer will,

sheer determination,

that she pushed her way through the crowds,

crowds so thick she could not even see the man

she was searching for.

She was weak, exhausted,

but resolute.

Nothing would stop her;

this was her last chance.

Twelve years of illness,

her body withering,

doctors telling her they could do nothing more for her.

She knew that this was her last hope,

that he was her last hope.

She had heard he could heal.

There were so many claiming to be healers;

she’d seen them all, tried them all.

frauds, phonies, every one of them.

But there was something about him,

the stories she’d heard,

that gave her hope.

She had nothing to lose,

everything to gain.

Time was running out.

Strapping men,

old women,

small children

even goats and sheep:

they all gave way to her arms, her legs,

her shoulders,

her grim determination as she knifed through the crowd.

She managed to find some humor in it though,

as she thought,

“Moses must have felt like this as he parted the sea.”

Then she saw him, just ahead,

not more than 30 feet away.

She pushed on,

the crowds even thicker:

She was fifteen feet from him;

then ten feet,

then close enough she could hear his voice

as he talked to a woman on his left,

then a man to his right.

Closer with every step:

Now eight feet,

Now six feet.

She stretched out her arms,

pushing,

pulling those in front of her

out of the way,

and then she fell forward, diving,

diving for the chance to grab hold of his robe.

She didn’t need to speak to him,

or see his face;

“If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”

She held onto the fabric for a second, perhaps two,

before she lost her grip

as he continued walking forward,

away from her.

Her eyes were fixed on his feet,

his sandals,

as they took another step away from her.

But then she saw them stop,

turn back,

walk toward her.

Even in the din, the noise of a thousand voices,

she heard his voice,

“Who touched my clothes?”

It was a different voice that answered,

“You see the crowd pressing in on you;

how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’”

Did she dare admit that she was the one?

She knew her Scripture,

she knew the words from the book of Leviticus,

the words from God given through Moses,

the law that bound the children of God:

she was ritually unclean.

Scripture was clear on that.

Surely if she told him that she was the one

who had touched him,

his response would be a fierce rebuke.

In her mind she could hear his words,

faithful to Scripture

but oh so harsh:

“Woman, you know Scripture forbids you

to be among people.

You have violated the law,

broken the clear command of Scripture,

flouted it most shamefully.

Turn and be gone,

shouting for all to hear with your every step,

‘Unclean! Unclean!’

And do not venture out again

until you have purified yourself

in accordance with the demands of Scripture.”

She trembled with fear she rose to face him

but her will, her strength gave out

and she collapsed at his feet.

Through her sobs,

she “told him the whole truth.”

She waited for his rebuke,

his condemnation in accordance with Scripture,

abetted by the crowd.

But when she looked up she saw his radiant smile,

and his hand reaching down to her,

to touch her,

to help her to her feet!

Then he spoke, not words of judgment,

but words of grace and hope,

“Daughter, your faith has made you well;

go in peace,

and be healed of your disease.”

Could she trust her ears?

Had she really heard what she thought she’d heard?

He had not shamed her,

he had healed her!

She turned to lose herself quickly among the throngs,

as though it had all been a dream

and she would awaken to her helpless, hopeless reality,

but with every step

she felt a lightness she’d never known.        

A warmth that came not from the sun

but from within filled her

to the very end of her fingertips.

She hurried home,

every step a step in hope,

a step in peace,

a step in joy.

This is such a dramatic story,

such a powerful story,

such a wonderful story.

But what are to learn from it?

We know Jesus healed;

the gospels are filled with stories of his healing:

the blind,

the deaf,

the lame.

But what does this mean for us here and now

as followers of Jesus Christ?

What does it mean for the lame person now?

The blind person?

The person who cannot hear?

Is it as simple as believing that faith can cure?

Certainly those who pose as faith healers count on it,

with their “heads they win; tails you lose” ploy.

If their theatrical prayers don’t cure you,

it is your fault for not having sufficient faith.

But if you have a toothache,

do you pray for healing,

or do you go see the dentist?

The miracle of healing happens daily

all around us:

diseases that killed just a generation ago,

now eradicated with a pill;

The boy who was deaf

who can now hear through a cochlear implant;

the girl whose lameness is surgically repaired;

the man with the failing heart given new life

through a transplant.

Still, we know that there are some illnesses

that cannot be cured.

You’ve heard my own experience

when my mother received her diagnosis

that her cancer was terminal

Radiation, chemo, surgery –

those treatments would only add a few months;

they could not cure.

Healing for her, for my sisters and me came

not in the form of a miraculous release from the disease,

but from the peace that came through acceptance;

in prayers for relief from the pain of fear,

of worry,

of anxiety.

Healing came through the assurance

that is ours in Jesus Christ

that even if the disease claimed her

death would not be victorious,

for as our Lord promises us.

“Those who believe in me,

even though they die, will live,

and everyone who lives and believes in me

will never die.”

(John 11:25)

Our faith does make us well – for all eternity.

Reinhold Niebuhr’s serenity prayer can help us,

reminding us that there are things in life

over which we have no control,

that we may not understand,

and so our first prayer should be a prayer

for guidance, for wisdom,

for understanding,

for presence.

As his prayer goes,

“God, give us grace to accept with serenity

the things that cannot be changed,

Courage to change the things

which should be changed,

and the Wisdom to distinguish

the one from the other.”

Niebuhr’s words at the end of the prayer,

words that are almost always overlooked,

show us the way to healing:

“Trusting that You will make all things right,

If I surrender to Your will…”

This is where true healing lies:

trusting in the goodness and mercy of God in Jesus Christ;

trusting that our prayers are not a test of our faith;

trusting that even when the doctor says

there is nothing more that can be done

we will find peace from the one who says,

“do not fear, for I am with you…

for I am your Redeemer,

I am your Savior,

I am your Blessed Assurance

in sickness and in health.”

AMEN