Now and not yet

Therefore you must be ready, for the son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect.  Matthew 24:44

I remember, years ago, a pastor said in a class I was taking, "The kingdom of God is now."  It was a revelation to me to consider that the Kingdom of God is not (or not only) something in the future, but it is a present reality, right this minute.  The  now and the not yet.

The verse above is part of an apocalyptic passage in Matthew.  I don't like those kind of passages, because I feel helpless in the light of the them.  God is coming; something will happen.  We don't know when or where or what, but we need to be prepared.  And I always feel woefully unprepared, and it makes me anxious.

Barbara Brown Taylor in her book The Seeds of Heaven, says:

The truth is that Christ comes again and again and again - that God has placed no limit on coming to the world, but is always on the way to us here and now. The only thing we are required to do is to notice - to watch, to keep our eyes peeled.

God is here now.  He is coming, but he is also here now.  Right now.  In my office.  What difference does that make in the way I live my life?

Taylor says that the passage in Matthew (24:29-44) speaks of three virtues - enduring love, discernment, and alertness.  We are called to keep watch - God is here now and God is coming.  Be aware and notice.  And while you are doing that, remember enduring love.  Remember the mission we have been given, which is to reach out to the lost, the hungry, the homeless and to act with enduring love.  We don't know when God may come, but we do know that God is here. (I love that idea.)  And if God is here, then we had better be about God's work.

Workers in the Vineyard

Matthew 20:1-16.  

The day had been a long one.
The sun had pounded heat into his skin,
burning with its impact.
Sweat had tracked into his eyes
and down his back.
He could feel the stab of blisters
on his hands and feet
as his heart forced blood
to his aching muscles.
The exhaustion of working
from sun up to sun down
was melting his bones.
He stood worn down
waiting in the field
for the pay that had been promised him.

He watched as the vineyard owner
paid the man who had worked only for an hour.
Jealousy and hatred
hotter than the sun at midday,
filled him.
How dare the vineyard owner pay this worthless impostor
the same pay
that he had earned?

The other man stood
holding the coin in his hand,
feeling its surface through the grime
straining his skin.
The long day had begun
with the worry that he would earn nothing.
He had stood in the sun
praying for some kind of salvation
for the family he was unable to feed.
When the vineyard owner had hired him
at the very end of the day,
he had been grateful.

With the coin in his hand
he knew what real gratitude was
he knew what grace really meant.
He stood with what he had not earned.
He stared at what he hadn't ever imagined
would be his.
Tears mixed with the sweat on his face.

Who are we?
Are we the man who stands in the stink
of hatred and jealousy,
claiming that the reward is not fair?
Or are we the man who knows salvation
is not earned,
it is given.
A gift of grace that brings us life.
When will we come to see our own unworthiness
for the amazing gift we have been given?
When will we allow the beauty of that gift
to change us?
When will we realize that we are the one
who come late to the field,
and who has not earned what we have been given?

What do you believe?

A question inspired by Barbara Brown Taylor's book The Seeds of Heaven:

Imagine for a moment that it is Sunday morning, and you have just walked outside through the doorway of your church.  A stranger is standing there, looking at your church.  He stops you, and you take the time to have a short conversation with him.

He asks, "What is it that you believe in there?"

How do you answer?

Don't answer me right away.  Give this question some thought.  Be prepared.  The time may come when God sends someone to you to be a witness.  You may not anticipate it ahead of time.

And don't you think that all of us should know the answer to that question, if only for ourselves?

What do you believe?

Fear and Faith

Think about the story in Matthew of Peter walking on water.  He steps out of the boat, willing to follow Jesus, even to do this thing which is impossible because Jesus calls him to do it.  In his fear and doubt, he sinks.  Jesus rescues him and then rebukes him.  I identify so much with Peter that sometimes I feel the sting of that rebuke and count it as failure.

We are so much like Peter.  We are not without faith, but with our faith lives our fear.  Barbara Brown Taylor talks about this in a sermon in the book The Seeds of Heaven.  Read this:

Why do we doubt?  Because we are afraid, because the sea is so vast and we are so small, because the storm is so powerful and we are so easily sunk, because life is so beyond our control and we are so helpless in its grip.  Why do we doubt? Because we are afraid, even when we do have faith." 

It isn't a lack of faith that causes Peter to sink; it's the presence of fear.

Paul, in the second letter to the Corinthians, spoke of his desire for a "thorn in his flesh" to be removed.  He writes that God said to him, "'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me." (2 Corinthians 9)

It's a hard verse to understand for me, but it came  to mind as I read the Taylor sermon.  If Peter had walked across the water in confidence, with no fear, then Christ would not have had to pull him out of the water.  In his fear, he needed Christ.  In our fear, we come to realize the necessity of salvation.  In our strength, we do not always see it.  God is always powerful, but in our weakness, we rely on his power instead of our own.

That doesn't mean that Christ caused Peter to sink so that Peter would come to realize the necessity of Christ, and it doesn't mean that God causes fearful things to happen to us so that our faith will be strengthened.  Really, we have enough fear on our own with God needing in any way to add to it.  It does mean that when we sink, God is there, and we come to understand that.  God offers grace - the hand that lifts Peter out of the water.  God offers accountability - the rebuke Christ spoke to him.  And God offers salvation - Christ returns Peter to the boat.  In none of that does God offer rejection.

And what do the disciples do?  They worship Christ in the boat.  As should we.

An Abundance of God

...but what Jesus knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that wherever there was plenty of God there would be plenty of everything else. (Barbara Brown Taylor)

This quote is from the book The Seeds of Heaven: Sermons on the Gospel of Matthew.  Taylor is exploring the feeding of the 5000 in Matthew 14. Jesus looks at the crowd -- this is just after John the Baptist has been beheaded -- and he seemed "to know that what the crowd needed more than a hot meal was to stay together, seeming to know that there was more nourishment for them in each other's company than in some neighboring farmer's goat cheese or boiled rice."

So, Jesus, knowing this, looks out at the crowd and tells the disciples to feed them.  He doesn't see five loaves and two fish, and how little that is compared to 5000 people.  Jesus sees the need and knows the abundance of God.  "There is plenty of God, there will be plenty of everything else."

Do we see with eyes that see the abundance of God?  Do we believe what Jesus knew?  If we did, what difference would it make in our ministry, in our churches, in our lives?

Hidden

Yesterday, I wrote a post based on the descriptions Jesus gave of the Kingdom of Heaven as recorded in Matthew 13.  Today I read a sermon about the same passage, published in the book The Seeds of Heaven by Barbara Brown Taylor.

Taylor says that one of the characteristics all of the metaphors in this passage share is that they speak of the Kingdom of God as hidden -- perhaps hidden in the ordinary.

Why would God hide the Kingdom of Heaven? 

As that question floated through my mind, another question surfaced.

Could it be that it's not that God has hidden it, but that we fail to look for it?  Do we need to open our eyes to find what is right in front of us? 

Where today could you have witnessed the Kingdom?  Where will you see it this afternoon, if you will look?

Weeds and Wheat

I was reading a sermon today by Barbara Brown Taylor based on the parable found in Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43.  In this passage of Matthew, Jesus tells a parable that compares the kingdom of heaven with a man who sowed good seed in his field, but while he was sleeping, weeds began to grow among the wheat.  His servants ask him if he wants them to go weed the field, removing the bad plants.  The man tells them to leave the good and bad plants alone.  He worries that in "gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them."

Taylor says the plant that is named in the bible is darnel -- Lolium temulentum.  It is a plant related to wheat, that looks like wheat, but is actually poisonous if the black seeds end up in the bread produced. Usually, it was weeded out so that after the reaping, the brown wheat and the black darnel didn't have to be separated.

I've never really noticed the idea that the man tells the servants not to weed the field.  You would think, if the weed is poisonous in the end product, that the risk of picking a little wheat when the servants get rid of the weeds would be worth it.  Apparently, though, for the owner of the field, the risk is too great. 

Does it speak to us today?  Does it remind us that we are not so great at telling wheat from weed -- sinner from saint?  Does it remind us that our job is not to worry about telling the difference?  We are not to judge. 

The Sower

I just finished reading a sermon from Barbara Brown Taylor's book, "The Seeds of Heaven."  It centered around the Extravagant Sower Parable in Matthew 11.

What does it mean to look at the meaning of the parable as centered around the sower, rather than the plants?  What does the certainty of abundance do to our perspective?  The sower is obviously unconcerned with how much seeds he sows -- he isn't afraid he'll run out or that the production will not meet his needs later. 

The sower is fearless.  If he were afraid of running out of seed, he would be more selective about where he plants it.  He would avoid the thorns and the path.  Instead, fearlessly, he throws seed anywhere, everywhere.  Nothing in the parable tells of his frustration or anger at the results. 

God must be like the sower.  He joyfully and without worry sows his love anywhere and everywhere.  He cares for all -- even those who don't demonstrate (to us, anyway) potential to bear fruit.  He just loves, without limit. 

He calls us to love the same way.  We are to love without regard to what will grow when we plant the seeds.  We are to love with the certainty that we will always have enough.  We are to love radically and without thoughts of scarcity or outcome.  We are to love.

Grace

Couple of quotes from the sermon The Open Yoke:  Matthew 11:25-30 by Barbara Brown Taylor in the book The Seeds of Heaven:

• I may beleive that my life depends on God's grace, but I act like it depends on me and how many good deeds I can perform, as if every day were a talent show and God had nothing better to do that keep up with my score.
• Human beings have a perverse way of turning Jesus' easy yoke back into a hard one again, by driving ourselves to do, do, do more and whipping ourselves to be, be, be more when all God has ever asked is that we belong to him.

Examining the Fruit

The Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 11, tells of John the Baptist, from prison, sending word to ask Jesus, "Are you he who is to come, or shall we look for another?"

According to Barbara Brown Taylor, Jesus doesn't just say, "Yes, I am the one."  Instead, he says:

Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers^* are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. (Matthew 11:4-5)

He doesn't affirm that he is "the one."  Instead he asks John to make the judgment based on the fruit of his ministry.  A couple of things occur to me as I read that.

First, Jesus leaves it up to each of us to judge who he is.  Who do you say that he is?  Does the evidence you see and know lead to faith?

Secondly, who would others say that we are by looking at our fruit?  On the school bus once, during high school, a fellow student asked me, "Are you a Christian?"  I was taken back by the question, and I didn't really answer him.  What if someone were to ask me, "I've heard about these Christians.  Are you one of them?"  Could I answer similarly to how Jesus answered the question John asked him?  Can other people look at the fruit of my faith and know whose I am?

Weighty vs Light

I'm reading Seeds of Heaven:  Sermons on the Gospel of Matthew by Barbara Brown Taylor.  The first sermon in the book is called "Exceeding Righteousness."

She talks about the idea that Jesus did not intend to break away from Judaism. He wasn't trying to start a new religion -- "he meant for his followers to become the most righteous Jews the world had ever seen."

Jesus applied a "hermeneutical principle of 'light and heavy' to biblical commands."  She explains the "weightier matters of the law were justice and mercy and faith."  He did not call his followers to ignore the other laws, but when a lighter law got in the way of following a heavier law, then his call was to follow the "heavier" law.  Observe the Sabbath?  Yes.  What if observing the Sabbath meant that one did not heal a person?  In healing the person, in dealing with the matter of mercy, one did the will of God. 

Who decides?  Jesus decided, and that is what got him "in trouble."  It was a question of authority.

What does that mean for us today?  There are still arguments in our faith as to what is weighty and what is light.  How do we decide?  For me, as I think about it, sometimes the deciding factor is comparing the one scripture to the entirety of scripture.  It means comparing one verse to the wholeness of God as taught by Jesus.  It means remembering that all of scripture was written for a certain group of people in a certain time.  We hear the word of God in it -- God speaks through it, but we are not the original audience.  For me it means that when someone makes an argument for a particular point of view, and supports it with one particular verse of scripture, there is a danger -- that we will not hear the whole of the Word because the one word is barring the way.

She closes her sermon by saying, "...righteousness has never been a matter of following rules but of honoring relationships....When we honor our neighbors -- when we love them as ourselves -- then, and only then, are we ready to discover what the law, the prophets, and the gospel are all about."

And to me, that sounds like whole Word.