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Bethlehem – Part 3

December 6, 2018 By admin

Accident or Miracle?

All Americans were saddened in the Christmas season of 2006 when Gerald Ford, our 38th President, passed away at the age of 93. People from both sides of the aisle really respected Ford for coming to power at a very difficult time and bringing healing and a new sense of hope to our country. Pardoning Nixon was a wrenching, perhaps disastrous, political decision . . . but it was really the only way for America’s completely dysfunctional, scandal-consumed government to get a fresh start and survive.

President Ford was the only Vice President and President to get into the White House accidentally. He was never elected to either position. He was appointed VP when Spiro Agnew had to resign in 1973; a year later, when Nixon followed the same ignominious trail, a lowly congressman from the obscure 5th District of Michigan abruptly found himself living with his wife Betty and four kids at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. West Wing had a story like that once, but this is real, and some of us lived through that very poignant time.

There’s a devout Christian pastor named Nick Twomey who serves his Lord at a medium-sized church, also in Michigan, and there’s nothing very spectacular about it. The only point of interest is that when he was a teenager, his high school girlfriend was named Madonna Ciccone, who grew up to become a pop singer who usually doesn’t use her last name. Quite a story—and it illustrates the sometimes accidental nature of fame.

I tell these two stories to contrast them with the brief life story of this Baby born in a stable in Bethlehem. Because there are many people in the world today who consider the Christmas story a sweet, touching, entirely human string of accidents.

Jesus was born, in their secular thinking, to a girl who wasn’t married. We usually call that an accident. He was born into poverty, which is very common but not something anybody would choose. When he was 12, his parents flubbed up and accidentally left him at the temple in Jerusalem for three days. And for the next 18 years, he lived such an uneventful life even the best of scholars don’t know a single thing about him.

Then he began to preach and teach. He was pretty good at it; many people listened. Some of the things he talked about are rather well-known even today. But he foolishly, or accidentally, antagonized the religious establishment of his day. He said the wrong things at the wrong times. He didn’t know when to keep His mouth shut. He accidentally healed people on the Sabbath when he should have waited until sundown. Finally, he riled the religious right to the point where they contracted a hit on him; they got him crucified on a Roman cross.

End of story. To those who believe in accidents but not in miracles, that is definitely the end of the story. Jesus was a Gerald Ford politician who only got a partial term of power, and whose time in office was cut short because . . . he was only there accidentally in the first place.

Now, do I believe this? Not for two seconds! I’ve already mentioned that we who are Christians reject entirely the “accident” motif; we have the word of the angel Gabriel, who says to the shepherds: I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord.

Moments later the skies are filled with an angel army which tells Planet Earth that what is happening is not an accident, not a blip in the space-time continuum, not an aberration or an anonymous moment of teen promiscuity. No, the arrival of this baby is heaven’s proclamation of good will to us, the announcement of an intergalactic rescue plan.

I’d like to backtrack from this billboard-in-the-sky moment and go to a much quieter encounter, this one between one angel, Gabriel, and one confused earthling named Joseph. In Matthew 1, right after Mary has told her boyfriend that the blue plus sign in her e.p.t. test came out positive but not an accident, heaven’s #1 angel comes to Joseph and has this to say: Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins.

And here’s what I want for us to realize. Heaven comes to Joseph and tells him four things. One, Mary’s pregnancy is legitimate; it’s heaven-designed; it’s not an accident. Two, she will have a son. Three, God in heaven has already designated the name of Jesus. Mary and Joseph never went through a list of names, because the name had already been assigned. Four, this Son, Jesus, will grow up and succeed in a salvation plan yet to unfold.

In other words, not only is Mary having a baby not an accident, this is all part of the most concise, precise, grand, intricate, perfect, pristine, holy, galactic plan ever put together. Jesus being born on planet earth is something that was not conceived in the back seat of a car, or in a bedroom while Mom and Dad are away. This was conceived in the highest courts of heaven, and conceived there even before Adam and Eve ever sinned, creating the need for the plan.

It is sometimes suggested that Eve took the apple from the tree, and that this act of rebellion threw heaven into crisis mode. Oh no, what shall we do? I have read literature portraying this as an unexpected time of turbulent fear among the angels of heaven. What was going to happen? Was this new world doomed to be lost? But notice what Paul tells us in Ephesians 1. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will.

So there was a salvation plan before Creation Week; there was a rescue plan, an adoption plan before Creation Week. By Genesis chapter three, a plan conceived long before has already been explained to Adam and Eve.

Hollywood actor Bruce Marchiano was contracted back in 1994 to play the part of Jesus in a four-hour multi-million-dollar miniseries based strictly on the book of Matthew. They went to Africa to film, and Marchiano, a very devout Christian, just immersed himself in the role. It was a wrenching time for him emotionally; he came out a changed man. But he writes in his book that he caught a glimpse of a Jesus who was in full control all the time. He said what he said because it was right; He healed people at certain times because it was part of his plan. And Jesus went to Calvary because he came here to go to Calvary. To redeem us was his unassailable role; it could not be altered. That’s one reason why Jesus was almost a bit impatient with Cleopas and his fellow disciple as they walked in discouragement to Emmaus on Sunday evening after the crucifixion. “Why are you distressed?” Jesus asked them. “The Lamb of God came to give His life, and that’s what He did. This is all part of the cosmic plan spelled out in the prophetic writings of Isaiah. Every salvation puzzle piece is perfectly in place.”

I don’t want to belabor this point, but I want to give us one more morsel to think about. We sometimes debate and discuss the issue of Christ’s nature; was it fallen or unfallen? Could Jesus have sinned? The Adventist Church takes the position that he indeed could have sinned; the many temptations in Matthew 4 and in Gethsemane seem to indicate that. But we also have here in the Christmas story a clear declaration by the angels that this baby WILL save us; he will not fail; there is no possibility of failure. He will go to the cross and win. In John 14:30, Jesus says calmly to His disciples, speaking of Lucifer: The prince of this world approaches. He has no power over Me. He has no hold on Me says the NIV. So I cannot speak to the impeccability of Jesus’ nature, but I can gratefully proclaim the immutability of heaven’s eternal plan. Let’s never forget that God does not lose. Jesus does not fail. Heaven does not surrender. And this Baby being born was not just part of God’s biggest plan; Jesus was God’s biggest plan.

Verse 15, as we return to the midnight choir concert in the fields outside Bethlehem. When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” They saw this incredible thing, the sky lighting up, the thunder of many voices singing. But now it’s dark again. The moment is over. The glory has faded. And what do they do? They act upon the miracle which has come to them.

All through Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John there were people who saw or experienced miracles. Some responded; others just walked away. But praise the Lord for these shepherds. They were given this rare privilege of receiving the announcement, and their response was the right one. Let’s go check it out. Let’s go see. The Adventist commentary points out that there is a special blessing for those who hear this kind of proclamation and who then act upon it.

Verses 16-18: So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the Baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen Him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this Child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.And right here I think you and I find something that is starkly relevant for us in this church we all love. What does this mean for us today? They spread the word concerning what had been told them about this Child.

Our Survival Depends Upon It

And friend, I was seized by this reality. The most important ingredient in our survival and growth here at this church is the challenge that we must go to others and tell them about Jesus. The shepherds saw Jesus and went and told someone else. And there have been times when someone here had a very vivid and real encounter with Jesus Christ, and a little time later, they brought by the hand a new person, a different person, someone not yet in our ranks, and brought them into this building and said: See? I told you. I have found a Friend so precious; He’s all the world to me.

We all have social connections with people who do not truly know the Christ Child as their Savior. We could say more than we say; we could share with more power than we do. We could exercise more intentionality than we do. If you spend time here in December going around in your cul-de-sac giving out Christmas cookies, you will probably be struck by the embarrassing reality of how little we know about people living less than 100 feet from our front door. We know some names, but not all. We have neighbors who are fellow believers, and we have no true communion with them as we should.

Think what would happen if every single person here, by the end of next year, found and brought to church just one other person. And just having babies doesn’t count, even though I applaud that missionary plan as well. I know that multi-level marketing schemes prove that we can’t double our church every single year, but I think we could definitely do it during the year that begins a few days from now. If these shepherds, who were basically shiftless thieves and tax cheats, could do it, you and I with our M.D.s and Ph.D.s can surely do it too.

Now we move on to Scene #2 in this story. Verse 21: On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise Him, He was named Jesus, the name the angel had given Him before He had been conceived. When the time of their purification according to the Law of Moses had been completed, Joseph and Mary took Him to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord”) (Exodus 13:2), and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: “a pair of doves or two young pigeons.” (Lev. 12:8)

I’m a bit embarrassed to tell you this, because I frankly do not know all of the ways of the Lord. But it was God’s rule for Israel that if a young woman had a baby boy, she was unclean for a week. If she had a baby girl, she was unclean for two weeks. Another gender inequity is that the long-term purification schedule for the mother of a baby boy was 33 days, for a girl 66. And the assigned gift for a poor family, instead of being a lamb, was two doves. And this is what Joseph and Mary brought.

It’s sweet to think that Mary, who received this Baby directly from heaven, now comes to the Temple to give Jesus back, in a sense. To present him to the Lord. We have baby dedication services here at church where we do this very same thing. But I would like to impress upon all of us as we head into the new year the wonderful Bible challenge to bring back to God’s house the things we receive from God.

If you have gotten talents from God, bring them here. If you have gotten children from the Lord, then it is right and proper to bring them here. You owe God that. If God blesses you with a good income, part of that income should come to this temple’s coffers. I don’t say that for myself; I say it because it is what the Bible teaches.

I am so moved when an economically challenged person here who is barely hanging on by their fingernails still gives back to God out of the blessings they have gotten from him. I know someone whose entire income is less than their rent; they are upside-down before the month even begins. And yet they come on Sabbath and bring a dish of food. Isn’t that amazing? And here Joseph and Mary, who have received this miracle Baby from God, come to the temple and give him right back.

Someone has suggested that Israelite families essentially paid these two doves to the temple as ransoms, as it were. Rather than sacrifice their firstborn children, they were permitted to “buy them back” with this sacrifice of a lamb or a pair of doves. Some people here have paid in the five figures to bring their baby home from the hospital; how much would you be willing to give the Lord for the gift of your child, were he to ask you for it? But it is inspiring to think of Joseph and Mary, ransoming this little Baby who would someday ransom the entire world with His blood. In her book, The Desire of Ages, Ellen White observes that some no-name priest held this little Baby, maybe the tenth one that day, amid all the sacrifices and blood and altars and this huge, legal system . . . and had no idea in the world that this one unique, heaven-sent Baby was going to fulfill it all, supercede it all, bring their entire edifice of legalism, of works, of blood to a crashing conclusion at the cross. Like people in Michigan who went to the polls one day back in 1948 to vote for a young Michigan State football hero and World War II vet . . . and never dreamed that young Jerry Ford would one day be President of the United States.

Now to Scene #3, and this is very touching. One of my favorite people in the Bible comes into the story now. There’s an old woman named Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. It’s not entirely clear if she was 84 years old or if she had been a widow for 84 years. One way or another, she had been around for a long while; her hair was gray. And what I like is this: even at the age of 84, or maybe 104, she was always at church. She never skipped church! As we head into the new year, I invite all of you to be like this great old gal of the Bible. She never left the temple, it says in verse 37. But before we get to her, there is another old prophet we want to read about.

Verse 25: Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel—in other words, he was waiting for this exact moment, the arrival of the Messiah—and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.

And as Simeon holds Baby Jesus in his arms, he says with beatific joy: Lord, now let Your servant depart in peace. He was willing to lay down to his rest, because he had seen the arrival of his Messiah. This is the Child. This is God Himself. This Baby will save all of us. Our rescue is absolutely assured at last.

Verse 30: My eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to Your people Israel. And then this great old man says to God: okay, let me go to sleep in peace. I saw what I’ve waited all my life to see. Somehow God made sure that Simeon was at the temple that very day.

So here are these two old, faithful saints. They waited for years, for decades. There may have been talk through the years of closing the church, or folding, of quitting. People then were tired of waiting for prophecies to come true, just as we sometimes are. They got weary of commuting to the temple each Sabbath. But they kept coming. And God went out of his way to keep them alive long enough so that they could have this rare, sweet experience. They got to hold the Redeemer in their arms, and know he was their Redeemer.

We’re told in the Bible, Deuteronomy 19:15, that all important matters should be established by two witnesses. And here these two old, faithful, reliable voices tell the world: Here He is. This Baby is the hope of all mankind. We saw it with our own eyes. If you don’t want to believe me, then believe them. But here at Christmastime, this one Baby is still the One. He is still our Savior, our only hope.

There’s a hard moment for you moms to think about. Simeon, holding Baby Jesus, promises the salvation of our lost world. That’s wonderful. But then he quietly says to Mom in verse 35: [But] a sword will pierce your own soul. In the Message paraphrase: A figure misunderstood and contradicted—the pain of a sword-thrust through you. In 33 years, Mary will watch her little boy up on the cross, dying for all of our sins. She’ll stand right there and hear the nails going in, sense the agony of her own flesh and blood.

This sword, we’re told by the Greek experts, was a rhomphania—a large battle sword. Not a machaira, a small dagger. No, this is a major weapon of heartbreak; in fact, it’s the same word used for the sword of Goliath. Mary is going to have her heart broken by the sacrifice on a hill far away.

I want for us to close by going back to the announcement by Gabriel. A Savior has been born TO YOU. And then this: He is Christ THE LORD.

Please stop with me and think carefully about what “Lord” means. Television sometimes uses that word carelessly; let’s not make that mistake. Jesus is our Lord. He rules over us. Jesus rules in a holy and complete way in our lives and in the life of this church.

I was talking to someone last week about surrendering his life to Jesus Christ. And I made the point that if Jesus did create us, and then did come to earth and die on the cross for our sins, then him being Lord is plain reality. In legal terms, we owe Jesus loyalty in a de jure sense—legally. By rights. It may be fun; it may not be. We may enjoy it; we might not. You might have a personality that loves church and worship, or maybe you don’t. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. Jesus is our Lord. He deserves all that we can give; He deserves our worship and our time and our offerings and the gift of our children. He deserves the powerful, dedicated functioning of this church right here. He is Christ the Lord.

And Simeon says to Mary: You are so blessed; you’re favored above all women. But there will come this sword moment. Your heart is going to break partway through this process. In the end, the world will be saved . . . but you’re going to cry one Friday afternoon.

Maybe you and I will have some hard times too. Maybe a rhomphania of loss, of pain, of death will happen to us. Christianity may mean a sword for us too. But it does not matter because Jesus is our Lord. He came to save us from our sins, and both Anna and Simeon give a testimony which rings through the centuries. We have seen the Christ Child. Shall we pray?

Lord God, in one of our final Sabbaths of this year, we bow before Jesus as our Lord and Savior. We accept the sure word of these two great saints of old, that you are the Baby sent from heaven. And like the shepherds, we want to take this good news and now share it in a tangible way with some precious person in our lives. Make us effective heralds of your love, we pray. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Read more at the source: Bethlehem – Part 3

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Bethlehem – Part 2

December 6, 2018 By admin

From Here to There

Have you ever wondered if perhaps we’re actually alone in this universe, and that there’s just empty sky above us? A few years ago pop star Don Henley, formerly lead singer of the Eagles, composed a pessimistic hit entitled They’re Not Here, They’re Not Coming. It was about UFOs; little green men in flying saucers. Are there intelligent beings out there billions of light years away, and if so, are they planning to show up here any time soon? What do we have here that they could possibly want? Would extraterrestrials travel all that way just to stand in line at Disney World in Orlando? One line went: “Go screaming through the universe, just to get McNuggets?” And his conclusion: there’s nothing out there. We’re here all by ourselves. Which, of course, is the antithesis, the cynical opposite, of the Christmas message.

There are days when all of us struggle with this possibility. We’re all alone. We Adventists were raised in a culture that bought this theory about heaven out there somewhere in the far reaches of a fully inhabited universe. But on the days when doubts hit us in the face, we begin to think: You know, maybe not. Maybe when our parents die, they simply lie in the ground, in the darkness. And when we die, that’s what we’ll do too. And since there’s no way for someone to come back from there and tell us there’s something – or nothing – out there, churches will keep hanging in there and Christians will keep hanging in there, until finally one generation in the distant future will just give it all up.

Some of you may have the opportunity to attend or even sing in a Christmas performance of Handel’s Messiah. A couple of lines from a bass solo give us food for thought today. There are several recitatives that are frankly kind of boring, and which we all endure, waiting for the more lively mass choir parts to come around again. But the bass sings this dirge from Haggai 2:6, 7: Thus saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts: Yet once a little while, and I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. I will shake all nations.

And then, in his next solo part, the bass stands up again and sings this line from Isaiah 9:2:The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light. And while the mall and TV commercials try to remind us about a man in a red suit, in the Bible all things center on one Baby who is born in a manger. Everything hinges on Him. Baby Jesus is the great light. Will He succeed in His mission? Will He destroy evil? Will He survive the cross? Will He go to the cross?

As you and I face a new year together, here is our question: are we prepared to fully believe in this story? To separate the fiction on our televisions and in the children’s stories from the life-saving reality in our Bibles? I ask again: do you believe today that Baby Jesus can save your family from eternal death?

We’re studying together in Luke chapter 2, and I mentioned last week the humbleness of this great story. Verse 7: [Mary] wrapped Him in cloths and placed Him in a manger. All parents here have spent some time in the maternity ward, and we know for a fact that mommies don’t usually have to wrap up their own babies. There are doctors and nurses and specialists who look after the newborns and who bathe and clean and diaper them. But Mary had nobody. No one was there to give her an episiotomy or stitch her up. Whatever got done, Mary and Joseph were the only ones to do it, because this was as lonely a birth as there has ever been.

Here’s the second half of verse seven: Because there was no room for them in the inn. Have you ever been on the road in a distant land and faced the gloom of night without a hotel reservation? Where will you stay? Who will provide you with some shelter and a warm cup of cocoa? Then it begins to rain. It is a lonely thing to not have a hotel room for the night, even if you’re not experiencing labor pangs every two minutes.

Tradition suggests that this might have been a cave Joseph and Mary stayed in, or at best a small, unused house where animals were kept. The Bible doesn’t say, “Born in a stable,” but a stable is the only place where there’s a manger or feeding trough, so this is what we infer.

I heard a cute story about a kindergarten play at a Christian school. Joseph and Mary, little five-year-olds, came up to the door of the inn, knocked, and had a fellow student come to the door dressed as the innkeeper. “I am sorry,” he said, reciting from the script. “We have no room for you.” And the girl playing Mary was such a good little actress, with a quivering lip and tears in her eyes, the kid inadvertently blurted out: “But would you like to come in for a drink?”

But what a lesson there is for us right here! This innkeeper, whose name will never be known, didn’t know that the Savior of the world was going to be born that night. Or that he could have been the host of the pivotal birth in our world’s history. But he didn’t have room for Jesus that night.

And I don’t ask you this question; I ask myself this question. Have I fully made room for Jesus in my life here in this soon-concluding year? How often have I spent time doing good stuff, busy stuff, important stuff . . . but not really experiencing the presence of Jesus in my thoughts? How many Sabbaths have I spent here at church where I did a lot of things and checked off many tasks and drove home with many future priorities crowding my mind . . . but didn’t really stop and just let the reality of Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior fill me with peace and hope?

We have all fretted with some hard realities about the difficulty in keeping a church alive and thriving. What policies will help us? What nimble plans might take us in a new direction? Well, I know one thing is true and always true: we need to have room for Jesus in this place. If we have music without Jesus, and sermons without Jesus, and social times without Jesus, and potluck conversations without Jesus, we will have masterminded a failure as colossal and sad as the one this innkeeper had. There was no room in the inn.

Let me put it to you another way. It is a wonderful thing when you open up your hearts and invite new people to join our wonderful family. Nothing moves me to tears like stepping into the waters of baptism with a new friend. Sometimes we have a guest enter who looks or sounds different from the rest of us. They live in a different neighborhood; perhaps their economic status is not quite up to the average we enjoy here. But they come in. We baptize them, they join us, and now week by week they sit here in our presence. They share our dinner tables; they own a membership here as true as your own. They are, in a sense, the visiting Christ to us, because we are told that the strangers all about are as Jesus Himself. Matthew 25:40: Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.

Now, in the coming year with its 52 Sabbaths, is there room in the inn for five more? Or ten more? Or for as many more as God may bless us with? On that cold winter night, Mary looked like an unwed mother to the manager of that Motel 6, who was decidedly not leaving the light on for her. Will we have room here next year for the unwed mother, the out-of-work mother, the welfare mother, the single mother with her ragtag kids? This is one of the greatest tests of a church and its purity: does it obey Matthew 25 and make room for those in our neighborhood who are hurting?

Every December, you understand, the pastor and his wife receive some Christmas cards and phone messages from people who are grateful for our church’s hospitality. Those kind words belong to all of you, of course, and I am proud of this church and its generosity. Next year I pray that our generosity will grow, that it will take in more than our credit cards and our recipes, but will also include our time and our own dining room tables and our personal friendships. Do we have room for Mary and her baby at our Sunday birthday parties as well as our Sabbath potlucks?

Back to Luke 2, verse 8: And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. We have sometimes assumed that December 25 as a Christmas date is probably way off; in fact, sometimes we connect it with pagan rituals and ceremonies. There are various sects which do not celebrate the day for that very reason; I’m glad our church is not in that camp. But it’s observed that shepherds would not have been out in the fields at night during the cold winter months. However, I was just reading the other day that near Bethlehem, grazing flocks which were reserved for temple sacrifices actually were in the fields, both day and night, on a year-round basis. So it’s possible that December is the true Christmas month after all.

But who does this glorious news come to? Who gets the great announcement? It’s not the preachers and it’s not the General Conference officials or the Pharisees. It’s not the wealthy doctors and lawyers. Instead, it’s the shepherds in the fields. In fact, the humility of this moment is deeper than we realize. One commentary points out that “shepherds were a despised class; their work kept them from observing all of the ceremonial law.” That’s ironic, since they might have been raising the very lambs used in those ceremonies.

What’s more, shepherds were often considered to be thieves by nature. “They confused ‘mine’ with ‘thine,’” one writer complains. “They were precluded from giving testimony in law courts” – so they were not a particularly trustworthy bunch.

And yet, verse 9: An angel of the Lord appeared to THEM. And the glory of the Lord shone around THEM.” God bypasses all of the successful people who govern on the church board and gives this great news to the people who attend the church’s soup kitchen instead.

And how do the shepherds react? Three words. They were terrified. Of course. In the King James, they were sore afraid. An angel appears to you at midnight, and almost always, that is going to be a scary and possibly unwelcome situation. Angel messages tend to involve some lifestyle upheaval. Your girlfriend’s going to give birth to the King of the universe. Go to Ninevah and tell them their city’s going to be destroyed in 40 days. The hour of judgment has come. Things like that. Plus, this blinding glory was just plain scary in and of itself. Going back to Luke 1, we find that this angel is Gabriel himself, the highest of all created beings, the archangel who stands in the very presence of God.

And what happens next is so wonderful. Verse 10: “Do not be afraid,” said the angel.

For four thousand years people had been afraid of God and terrified of religion. False religions had people burning up their own babies; appeasing the gods. Offering blood sacrifices. Even the true religion of Jehovah had elements which were intended to teach the beauty of Calvary, but which made people afraid and apprehensive instead. At Mount Sinai, everybody was terrified of that thundering voice in the mountain; they said to Moses, “You go up and talk with God; we’re too scared. Find out what He wants and then come tell us.”

If you ever have a chance to visit the country of Thailand, you will pass many stores that are filled with ornate spirit houses. A good Buddhist will have a little mini-temple / house on his property for the evil spirits to park themselves in. (Better in the backyard than in the living room.) Once in a while the owner will go out and put an orchid there or a bit of rice. Now, who eats the food offerings, I don’t know . . . but there’s an element of fear to their faith. Will their next reincarnation be kind to them? Will the gods forgive them for some of their bad karma?

Some of you have attended Pioneer Memorial Church at Andrews University in Michigan, and back when Pastor Dwight Nelson did a global TV event called “Net ‘98,” he used as his tag line: “God is not someone to be afraid of, but someone to be a friend of.” Jesus says to His disciples in John 15: I have called you friends. In the Adventist Church, we believe in the tragic necessity of a cleansing hellfire, but not an eternal hellfire, because God is not someone we have to be afraid of. I want with all of my heart for God to have enough fire to someday burn Lucifer into nonexistence and then I want those fires to go out, because God is our strong but gentle Friend. I cherish the fact that Jesus spent the last night of His life with His 12 best friends, and that He even loved the Judas who sat there among them.

Here’s the rest of verse 10: I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. The Christmas story is supposed to be good news of great joy for all the people. The Living Bible says it this way: The most joyful news ever announced, and it is for everyone! I go without shame on mission trips to share Jesus in foreign countries because the story of Jesus is intended for those people. It’s good news for those people. I wrestle with the reality that we ask young people to convert, to do something which hurts the feelings of their Buddhist or Hindu parents. It feels like a betrayal of their national heritage. And I want to say in response, “No, you are still a loving child. But this is good news of great joy. It will make your life vastly better and, in the long run, perhaps give your entire family, including your parents, eternal life.”

Close your eyes for a moment and think of great headlines. The war in Iraq is over. Your child is given a full scholarship to Harvard. You just won the California lottery. You thought you had cancer, but the doctors call to tell you the tests are negative. You and I should get dressed each Sabbath morning and come to church with a feeling that we have news greater than all of that rolled up into one headline. “Jesus has come; we have eternal life. We have a home in heaven with God’s family for all eternity.” That should be what colors our attitude as we pull into the parking lot of this church. We have pledged, in our new church board, that in all our discussions and interactions this coming year, we are going to be in a hope-filled, celebratory mode for these next twelve months. Why? Because the angel announcement – good news of great joy – is still intact here in December. Nothing has changed. The offer hasn’t expired. After 40 centuries of discouragement and doubt and despair, we get the same Redeemer the shepherds did. They sang Christmas carols; we sing Christmas carols. They got eternal life; we get it as well. They received hope for their children; that’s our inheritance also.

Verse 11: Today in the town of David a Savior has been born TO YOU; He is Christ the Lord.These may be two of the most wonderful words in all the Bible. A Savior born TO YOU. Jesus is God’s gift to the human race. This is not a sterile salvation transaction; Jesus is born to us. I and my loved ones deserve death; we deserve to be wiped out. But God, aware of me and my needs, says: Here is a Christmas gift for YOU, Pastor X. My Son. I give My own Son to be born and live and die and sacrifice His life FOR YOU.

Again borrowing from Handel’s Messiah, there is a beloved song that comes from Isaiah 9:6. In fact, 15 of the songs in this oratorio come from that prophetic Old Testament book. But here is what we sing together: For UNTO US a Child is born; UNTO US a Son is given. And this King, who shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace . . . is ours. He is heaven’s gift to you and to me. UNTO US this Christmas miracle is offered.

I found a couple of encouraging insights in our Adventist archives that I would like to share with each of you today. As we carefully tell our children that Santa’s workshop at the North Pole is a fun figment of our imaginations, I’m afraid that we perhaps think of heaven as being almost fictional, perhaps fictional, and many trillions of miles from this lonely planet. Sometimes people drop out of church for various reasons – and this is one of them. The Christmas story is just too remote.

But here in Luke 2, there are shepherds in the fields. Real men, living their spartan lives, doing their thing, earning the few copper coins that are in their pockets. And suddenly there’s an angel standing in their presence. Gabriel comes all the way from the inner throne room of heaven and stands among them in a field outside Bethlehem. So it’s not really that far away after all. The book of Daniel chapter 9 has a story where Daniel is deeply troubled and praying through tears about a confusing prophetic vision he’s had. And before he even says amen and gets up from his knees, Gabriel is there to give him encouragement and explanations.

And the author of The Desire of Ages makes this observation: “Heaven and earth are no wider apart today than when shepherds listened to the angels’ song. Humanity is still as much the object of heaven’s solicitude as when common men of common occupations met angels at noonday, and talked with the heavenly messengers in the vineyards and the fields. To us in the common walks of life, heaven may be very near.”

I know we surmise that heaven is close because of the miracle of prayer. Today you can travel around the globe and then pick up a phone and converse back to those you love virtually for free using something called Skype and an Internet connection. But heaven is also near when we bring heavenly values into the lives of others here, when we extend grace to those who wrong us, when we are a faithful part of this spiritual community, when we pray for one another. In fact, Jesus once said to His disciples: The kingdom of heaven is among you. It’s here now; it’s already begun. It’s not in limbo until the Second Coming. True, the streets of gold are a ways down the road; the pearly gates haven’t yet come into view. But angels travel from heaven to earth quickly and easily, and when you call someone who is discouraged and say, “Hang in there; I love you; I’m praying for you,” you help to bridge the gulf between this cold world and the waiting Paradise.

Verses 13 and 14: Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests.” In the King James: Good will toward men. When we sing “Gloria in Excelsis Deo,” that’s from the Latin Vulgate for this expression: “Glory to God in the Highest.”

I mentioned earlier that this church does not exist to make ourselves happy or socially fulfilled, although it can have that blessed side effect. But we are here, as we sang in “O Come All Ye Faithful,” to adore Jesus. To worship Him and give Him glory. “Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning.” Our corporate worship is for the purpose of bringing glory to Jesus and to the Father who sent and sacrificed Him. All other benefits are frankly incidental.

But notice that this song ends with what God gives to us. After four thousand years of mistrust and fear, God not only proclaims His good will through a baby but also through a sky-filling choir. Every angel heaven has comes down to Judea and helps sing this song: Peace to men on whom His favor rests. God sends the entire population of heaven to say to us: “I like you. I really, really like you. I’m not your enemy; I’m your Rescuer.”

And on earth . . . peace. We don’t live in a world of peace, but peace is God’s gift to us. Someone remarked about the irony that most armies bring turmoil and death, but here in the skies there is an army of angels and they bring us the gift of peace. An army of peacemakers, armed with nothing but good news about God’s plan to bring peace to planet earth.

Sometimes people who belong to a church are anxious about its future. Jesus brings peace. Sometimes we have a trace of animosity with another person; someone told me recently about a church quarrel they had had and how they had acted to get past it. Through the influence of Jesus, we have peace. There are those sitting here today who have deep concerns about their ability to survive financially during these holidays. Jesus, working through His church, helps to bring peace. Married couples go through times of tense communication and misunderstanding; the influence of Jesus brings peace. Many of you work in high-voltage jobs where one wrong move can mean substantial financial loss; the promises of Jesus and His guarantee of security bring you peace as you face the new year.

Let’s prayerfully look around us at the babies we are blessed to have in our family. They don’t seem to know that we’re struggling mightily with a conflict in Iraq and that the Middle East is a cauldron of controversy and that we don’t trust Vladimir Putin very much. They doesn’t know that some Adventists disagree with other Adventists about what happens at the end of the 2,300 years mentioned in Daniel chapter eight.

But I’m glad these precious, innocent infants live in homes which have embraced Jesus being the Savior who brings peace to our world and to our lives. I’m thankful that Mommy and Daddy are teaching them that Baby Jesus can save us from our sins and bring us peace. Shall we pray?

Lord, in a season where myths abound and where the man in a red suit seems more real than the Baby in swaddling clothes, help us to keep on believing. Thank You that heaven is both real and near. Thank You that heaven’s gift to us is personal and that You love us enough to give us peace. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

______________________________

Read more at the source: Bethlehem – Part 2

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Bethlehem – Part 1

December 6, 2018 By admin

Journey to Bethlehem

I don’t know if any of you have ever had the experience of helping to deliver an over-eager baby. Taxi drivers have helped bring a new life into the world; so have flight attendants. There have been missionaries who were pressed into service as midwifes on crowded buses and trains in overseas lands, where someone had to donate a piece of shoelace to help tie off the umbilical cord.

Of course, I know that many of us have had the deeply spiritual experience of watching our own children miraculously emerge into this world. I can tell you this about my own personal experience; I absolutely became a believer in creation, in the miracle power of God, in the divine imprint upon people, in our heavenly Father’s care for each of us. I can never be an evolutionist or an atheist after participating in the birth of a baby.

In December, much of the world is somewhat tenuously connected to one particular maternity ward story. Luke 2:6, 7: While [Mary and Joseph] were [in the Bethlehem stable], the time came for the Baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a Son. In the world’s terms, that’s a pretty commonplace story. A young female went through nine months of gestation. Her abdomen got swollen; her monthly cycle came to an end. She had morning sickness. Her water broke. She had labor pangs. She pushed and squeezed the hand of her fiancé. And it happened just like every other time: at the end of the story, there was a little Baby lying in a manger. We sing a Christmas carol which suggests that while the cows mooed and there was baa baa baa from the sheep, sweet little Jesus never made a peep. Well, that isn’t true. This was a very real Baby. He was covered with blood and vernix; there was the afterbirth set to one side. Someone cut the cord. Someone stopped the bleeding. Jesus was circumcised on the eighth day, we read in verse 21.

And just one more thing. One more tiny detail. This Baby being born means that you and I can someday leave this world of heartache and go to heaven. You see, I believe in the totality of the Christmas story. I embrace all of it. Do you believe today that Baby Jesus can save you and your family from your sins? Is that your Christmas commitment?

We who are Adventists do not bargain away a single part of this miraculous story. We believe in the virgin birth; we believe Gabriel came down and spoke to the shepherds. We accept that the angel choirs sang. We believe the wise men came. Everything. And we especially believe that there was something completely different, completely revolutionary and world-changing when this one little Baby was born on our alien planet. We believe it when the angel says, He shall save His people from their sins.

To Be Continued

We’re going to spend a couple of brief holiday weeks journeying together through the Luke chapter 2 story. You know, In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. Etc. Sometimes we pastors foolishly decide that we should be able to get enough for one good sermon there. Well, what I found in my studying is that this wonderful saga is a story for the ages. It can’t be told in a hundred sermons. It can never be exhausted. It is a miniseries without end. Please don’t get impatient if it hangs over into January.

A classic Adventist book called The Desire of Ages has several chapters dealing just with the Christmas story. And I think Ellen White is completely correct in this observation: “The story of Bethlehem is an exhaustless theme. In it is hidden ‘the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God.’ (Romans 11:33) We marvel at the Savior’s sacrifice in exchanging the throne of heaven for the manger, and the companionship of adoring angels for the beasts of the stall. Human pride and self-sufficiency stand rebuked in His presence. Yet this was but the beginning of His wonderful condescension.” Meaning that the Christmas story reaches its powerful climax at Easter and the Cross and the Resurrection.

Philip Yancey has a line in his book, The Jesus I Never Knew, where he puts it this way: “The God who came to earth came not in a raging whirlwind nor in a devouring fire. Unimaginably, the Maker of all things shrank down, down, down, so small as to become an ovum, a single fertilized egg barely visible to the naked eye, an egg that would divide and redivide until a fetus took shape, enlarging cell by cell inside a nervous teenager. ‘Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,’ marveled the poet John Donne. He ‘made Himself nothing . . . He humbled Himself,’ said the apostle Paul more prosaically.”

As we move through this classic story, I hope you will find your own family faith reaffirmed. It is a wonderful thing to be fully Christian all year long, but especially during this season. Our Adventist faith takes Christmas from a shallow, cynical, greedy, fatiguing, commercial Ponzi scheme – and magnifies it into the most eloquent and important theme in the universe. I pray that this will be your experience here during the Christmas season.

Verse one and two again: In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) Right away, people who are cynics find a place to hang their doubts. Historical records – meaning, non-biblical – often corroborate things we find in the Bible. But the truth is that this particular census seems to be difficult to pin down. Secular chronicles don’t appear to have this 4 B.C. project listed in their archives. However, it is true that Caesar Augustus did achieve a major administrative overhaul of the entire Roman system, and perhaps this census was simply tucked into the larger endeavor. And there are records of various censuses being performed in various parts of the kingdom. Egypt did them every 14 years, and we have historical records of each of the ones done between 20 A.D. and 270 A.D. In Syria, which contained Judea, it’s probable that the same format was used.

Another head-scratching issue is that this Quirinius, governor of Syria, definitely did run a census in 6 A.D., which we find mentioned in history and also Acts 5. But that’s ten years too late for this Christmas story. So scholars have argued that Luke must have simply flubbed this part of the story. But it appears that even before the birth of Jesus, Quirinius might have had another previous term as governor or military leader in that territory, and would have been authorized to organize a census during the exact time of this story.

Here’s the interesting thing. Again, many students have dismissed this part of Luke’s story and said, “Well, he’s a doctor, not a historian; he simply got this part wrong. Let’s move on.” However, documents coming to light just within the last century or so show that Caesar Augustus had done three surveys: one in 28 B.C., then 8 B.C., and 14 A.D. And, considering that there was such political turmoil in Syria and Judea, the 8 B.C. census might have taken several years to really put some teeth into . . . which would mean that it was being collected right at the time this story took place. So as we study God’s Word here, and have questions – not that I think any of you stay awake at night worrying about when these taxes got collected – there’s solid evidence that God has protected the integrity of His Word.

Here’s the larger point. Luke, a medical doctor, graduate of Loma Linda University, goes out of his way to paint a picture of a very secular world. People working, tending to their businesses, paying taxes. Forcing themselves to be obedient to secular governments. Tipping their hats to the Romans. In other words, living daily lives. And into that mix of secular, 40-hour workweeks, with commuters and IRS withholding and the rough and tumble of everyday life . . . God invades. This story comes right into the world. This isn’t a sterile, fly-by spiritual mission. A young girl gets pregnant. Her boyfriend is a carpenter. Her uncle is a priest. Her aunt is also pregnant. People are traveling; motels are full.

This story tells me that God wants to come into the lives of this church’s doctors. Into the experience of our lawyers and teachers and dental hygienists. Our stay-at-home moms. And those who struggle to get by on their Social Security check. People raising kids. People who have to come to a Food Bank to keep the cupboard from going bare each month. The Christmas story, Jesus entering our world, happens right in the thick of dust-covered reality. One commentator put it cryptically this way: “God is the Lord of history.” This is My Father’s world.

Verse three. And everyone went to his own town to register. Now, it was odd to make people do that. The Romans generally knocked on your door and got you where you lived, not where you used to live. However, a Roman-mandated census carried out in Egypt did follow this rule; you commuted on a camel back to wherever you were born. And it’s also been suggested that King Herod, who was the boss of this particular Judean region, might have decided that doing it “by tribes” was the most efficient way, and that the rule of returning to your tribal homeland was his doing.

In any case, this had Joseph the carpenter going from Nazareth back to Bethlehem. This was a three-day trip. It would be like us driving from California back to Illinois in order to file our tax returns. But a lot of people were on the roads at this time because of this rule hanging over their heads.

Now, Joseph had to go, of course. As the IRS puts it, he was the head of the household. How about Mary? Some records indicate that all Palestinian women 12 and older had to do the same thing; Mary was also of the family of David and so Bethlehem would have been her town as well. However, most scholars think that it was sufficient for women to simply pay the tax without having to make the journey.

Why, then, did she go? Well, two reasons. First of all, she was eight months and three weeks pregnant. I’m sure she wanted to be near Joseph. To stay home alone in that very pregnant state might have caused more gossip than there already was. But notice something very interesting. The Old Testament prophetic book of Micah was written 700 years before the birth of Jesus. And what do we find predicted in chapter 5? But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times. The Living Bible: You [Bethlehem] will be the birthplace of my King who is alive from everlasting ages past!

So a Roman king demands a census. The underlings put out this rule that you have to go to your hometown. Joseph and Mary just happen to be from Bethlehem. She happens to be pregnant and ready to deliver right at this time. She goes there and Jesus is born in the very place where heaven decreed it seven centuries earlier.

Again, do I believe this story? Do I accept these details as of divine inspiration? You bet I do. I put my life on the line with this story right here, and with the fact that this Baby was born in Bethlehem where and when and how He was supposed to come into our world.

Verse five: [Joseph] went [to Bethlehem] to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. We all know this story. Some scholars suggest that Mary and Joseph were already married by this time; why, then, does Luke still portray her as just engaged to him? Well, there’s no way to know for sure; however, here’s what Matthew has to say in chapter one after Joseph had his dream visit from the angel. [Joseph] took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a Son. So if there was a marriage, it was not consummated, as we say, until after this Bethlehem story. Which is why Luke, perhaps, still describes this as an engagement, not a marriage.

Now, we’re adults and can speak openly about these things. I have had the unexpected experience of performing a wedding for a couple where the bride was already “showing.” And you know, you minister to people where they are. But here is a woman traveling with her boyfriend, it seems, and she is hugely pregnant. The Living Bible puts it: She was obviously pregnant by this time.

A news item came out back during the holidays of 2006. An exceptional Christian film entitled The Nativity Story, which tells this Christmas drama in glorious detail. It starred a young New Zealand actress named Keisha Castle-Hughes, who was only sixteen and plays the Virgin Mary in this great Bible story. Two days before the opening, the news dribbled out that this high school kid . . . was pregnant. She was going to have a baby.

So what does the entire world immediately know? Well, there’s a boy somewhere in this equation, and someone on the movie set didn’t chaperone things as well as they might have. We all know that. Virgins do not get pregnant. If a young girl is pregnant, it’s as plain as our biology textbooks that a romantic episode came first. Actually, the Internet tells us that the boy’s name is Bradley Hull, they’ve been dating for three years, and here we are. But this film about a virgin was going to have its international debut in the Vatican, the Holy See. So a spiritual center which proclaims the Virgin Birth had to tell this young movie actress, “Please don’t attend. You’ll embarrass us.”

Of course, the Catholic Church proclaims two doctrines all their own. One is called the Immaculate Conception, which suggests that Mary was not only sinless in her own life but that she was miraculously kept from ever having even a sinful nature of her own, avoiding what the Church of Rome calls “original sin.” Which enabled her to pass perfection along to her Son. The second teaching is that Mary experienced “perpetual virginity,” that she never did have sexual relations with Joseph or anyone else. They explain the Bible verses about Jesus’ brothers and sisters by suggesting that these were half-siblings from a prior marriage Joseph had had.

Well, we are Protestants and there is no biblical warrant for either of those ideas. However, in our own circles, liberal theologians in recent years have said to the rest of us: “You’re going to have to let this virgin-birth fantasy go.” Actresses who play Mary can’t get miraculously pregnant, and neither could Mary herself. That part of the story is just plain not true. The earth is not flat and virgins don’t have babies. A baby comes from egg and sperm, and biology reigns supreme.

I don’t want to get us sidetracked on this part of the story, but I want to say one thing. We who are Adventist Christians either believe in miracles or we don’t. If the Holy Spirit cannot move upon a young virgin girl and bring the Savior of mankind into this world, then there is also no such thing as Jesus feeding the 5000 with one lunch. No healings. No lepers cleansed. The story of Lazarus coming out of the tomb is pure fantasy. Jairus’ daughter coming back to life: false. The widow’s son being raised up: not true. Eutychus, who fell out of a window, died, and was raised up by Paul: total fabrication. And of course, the resurrection of Jesus Himself is just masterpiece theater, literary fiction. Not to mention our resurrection on the final day of triumph.

Today it is entirely possible for a virgin, by way of science and centrifuges and in vitro techniques, to have a baby. If the powerful God of all this universe couldn’t do it, then the testimony of the Bible, the sure word of the prophets, and the entire Christian faith collapses like a house of cards. I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but logic dictates this train of thinking. If you honestly do not believe in miracles . . . then what are you doing here?

Fortunately, we do believe in miracles and we believe in the integrity of God’s Word. If Isaiah, Matthew, and Luke, all writing under the protection of the Holy Spirit, say that a virgin conceived, then a virgin conceived. I heard a pastor once suggest in a sermon that God could have made Joseph have that baby if He had wanted to! But let’s accept the Bible story just as it reads.

Two quick points. First, this is just one more evidence that God sent His own Son into the most humble of circumstances. Not just to a poor girl and a carpenter boyfriend. Not just into poverty and a stable. But with this cloud of illegitimacy hanging over not just this story but the entire 33 years. Jesus heard the word bastard His entire life. He was sympathetic to people who were ridiculed and teased and harassed, because that was His daily lot in life.

Who’s is He?

And one more thing. I think about Joseph, who has his girlfriend come to him with this incredible, unbelievable story. I’m pregnant, but I didn’t do anything. I mean, what kind of a fool does she think he is? His heart is broken. He’s torn between love and disbelief and anger. In his kindness, he decides to dump Mary, but do it quietly; otherwise, she could conceivably be stoned to death. But then he has a dream one night where an angel says to him, “Joseph, hang in there. This incredible story is actually true.” Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins.

But let me pose this question. Would any realistic man believe his girlfriend’s story? No. Not a chance. What about it, guys? I wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. And even after an angel dream, you might think, fifty-fifty, that your own hysteria, your obsession with this crazy, wrenching tale caused the dream. It’s likely that even here at Month #9 as Joseph led his hugely pregnant fiancée over the dirt roads to Bethlehem, he was still thinking: What kind of fool am I?

The baby is born and Dad still has these mixed emotions. That’s not my kid. Doesn’t look like me. He looks like Benjamin the Blacksmith. I wonder which of my friends did this?

And all at once, shepherds come to the front door of this little stable. They were in the fields, tending their flocks. Suddenly an angel came to them and said: “This is the Baby. The Lord has come. Go to Bethlehem.” They heard an angel choir saying the same thing.

And maybe for the first time in the last nine months, this fragile young man, who has wrestled with doubts and with suppressed anger, has his faith confirmed. No one could have known this story. This can’t be a plant or a coincidence. There must actually be such a thing as miracles and heavenly gifts; God in heaven must actually have a plan to rescue this lost world, and God chose his girlfriend to carry the King to term. What a transforming moment that must have been.

And here’s where we come in. I want for us to think about the shepherds some more next Sabbath, but here were some men who took this story and brought it into town. They had an encounter with heaven; they acted upon that gift. They came to Bethlehem to worship, and in the act of worshiping I believe they brought a renewed faith to Joseph, the father of our Lord.

We all know people who toy with, or struggle with, the Calvary story. They know it by heart; they’ve lived with it for the proverbial nine months of gestation. But it’s never come to birth in their own life; they’ve never owned it for themselves. Sometimes they come here to church, but they’re always observers, not citizens. Along with Joseph and the rest of Nazareth, they said with a shake of the head: “Man, I don’t know.”

I have visited in my office with sincere seekers who are sometimes with us here, and yet do not believe in the story of the Cross. And I think what is needed is for more of us to really be like those shepherds. We need to burst through the door of their doubts and say with fire in our voice: “We saw an angel in the fields and we believe his message. We heard a choir sing, and the things you have doubts about are being proclaimed in the heavens. This is a story you can believe.”

Just in recent weeks I have had desperate phone calls come my way. People call up in the midnight hour and pour out their tales of woe, their overwhelming grief. The tumult in their lives are taking a toll. And it’s my assignment at that moment to be a shepherd, to say, “Hang in there despite these trials. There are angels all around us, already paving the way for the new avenues of service you’re going to travel. I have seen the star in the sky.”

If we build here an unshakable community, a home with lasting convictions and corporate backbone, sure in our beliefs, who can ever measure how many people will come to embrace our Christmas story in all of its glorious fullness? Shall we pray? Lord, thank You for this story of a journey to Bethlehem. Help us to never cut the trip short; may we always believe that it began in heaven, not in Bethlehem. May Christmas be a Christian experience for us, not a commercial one. We ask this in the name of the living Christ Child and our eternal Savior, Amen.

______________________________

Read more at the source: Bethlehem – Part 1

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Fighting – Part 7

December 6, 2018 By admin

Easy to Forgive?

I have a mental game for you to play today, and it’s going to be easiest for those of you who have had bosses in your work experience—especially one that you didn’t particularly get along with. If you ever went to an Adventist academy, you can probably play this mind game very successfully. There was a story in the sports pages not long ago about a professional baseball player and athletic hero who had personal assistants and flunkies on his payroll, and they often had to endure profane, steroid-laced outbursts from the man who signed their paychecks.

Anyway, here’s the scene. It’s 2:00 a.m.; you’re sound asleep in bed with your spouse. It’s very cozy there; you’re having a beautiful dream about your favorite team winning the World Series or this church bursting at the seams with visitors, with people standing along the sides because the pews are all filled. Wonderful dreams. And all of a sudden the phone rings, and it’s this guy. This boss you do not like. At two in the morning.

And he says: “Uh, Dave . . . did I wake you?” Well, of course he did, but you don’t say that. “What’s going on, Mr. Jones?” And he says to you: “I need a favor. I just landed at the airport twenty minutes ago because of that big storm back east. And I get out here to the curb, and the bus shuttle stopped running because of some tie-up out their way. There’s no buses or van pools for at least three hours, they tell me.”

And you want to say: “Mister, what’s that got to do with me? I punched out nine hours ago; you don’t own me at two in the morning. Abe Lincoln freed the slaves back in 1863.” But you don’t say that. You’re thinking to yourself what a selfish, argumentative, bossy boss this guy is, how he treats people unfairly, how he needlessly hurts people’s feelings, how he lets his cousin have a phantom job at the company, how his wife who never works gets a company car. And now he’s calling you up in the dead of night, interrupting your nice baseball dream. But you don’t say anything, because you know what’s coming next.

And the guy says: “Dave, I’m sorry . . . but can you run down here and pick me up? I’m at Terminal Four. We’ve got that big teleconference at ten this morning, and if I don’t get at least some shut-eye, we’re going to blow that crucial Sacramento account.”

Even as you hear this request/demand, even as a million excuses flood into your mind, even as you toy with saying to the guy: “You know what? Get your wife to drive down there in that stinking fancy company car and pick you up, you blowhard excuse for a boss,” you slowly ease yourself out of bed and begin putting on that pair of pants you dropped on the floor three hours earlier. You’re going to do it. You’ll hate yourself for chickening out; you’ll boil all the way to airport and all the way back; your wife will call you a wimp in the morning. But you’re going to get in your car and drive one hour down to the airport and pick up this clod and take him home so he can go beddy-bye.

Here is the ironic thing. And I’ve pondered this scenario many times. The next day, down at the loading dock where we all work, I’m grousing and feeling sorry for myself with my fellow workers—Bob, Peter, Jose, Elvin, Tony. And I say to them, “You know what? If any of you guys had called me at two in the morning, and said you were really stuck, snowstorm back east, Super Shuttle on the fritz, could I give you a ride home, blah blah blah, I’d do it. No problem.”

And you know, that’s true. If any of you were to call me from the airport at two a.m., I’d be happy to go get you. I wouldn’t mind at all going to pick up anybody from our church family. It’s no problem. It’s the middle of the night; there’s no traffic. The freeway’s a big, moonlight-bathed wide-open four-lane concrete ribbon. I’ve got cheerful music on the car stereo. We both get home by 3:45, I sleep in a couple of hours more than usual, we get back to the factory by ten the next morning and we laugh about it over our coffee.

Now, why don’t I mind going to the airport for friends like these? Because I like these guys. They’re my friends. I have genuine affection for them. Even though a nocturnal airport run isn’t really my favorite thing, my love for my fellow church members makes it an easy task.

But this jerk who’s above me in the flow chart, this boss I don’t like, this person I have a ten-year feud with . . . no, I don’t want to do good things for him. I’m not willing to sacrifice for my enemy.

I think one way or another, we are all familiar with this scenario. We put up with things from our friends that drive us batty and resentful when we get the exact same treatment from the antagonist in our life.

I have good news for all of us today. The Bible describes this very airport scenario. There’s another commuter named Pete—author of two epistles in the back of your Bible—who has this to say. I Peter 4:8: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Isn’t that true? If you love someone, that covers over their sins. If you love someone, you forgive them for calling in the middle of the night. There’s a stated truth that has run from my parents down to me, and from me down to my own children. It goes like this: “You can call us any time! If you’ve been at a party, and you need a designated driver, call. If you’re pulled over for speeding, call. If you’ve been busted for something, call. If some boy has gotten you in trouble, call.” If they’re away at college, they know that your home is their home, even at two in the morning. That’s the one knock on the door you will never resent. And even if they get a little drunk and land in jail and call you up to go their bail, you put up with it. Why? Because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Many of us can remember teen moments where we had to call our own parents and confess that we had messed up in a royal way. Some of us have gotten ourselves kicked out of Adventist schools. And we make the most incredible discovery: love covered over a multitude of sins. Our parents forgive us; they overlook it; they never mention it again. They live by the principles of this Bible verse. The Message paraphrase puts it this way: Love makes up for practically anything.

Now, the reality is this. There are two kinds of love. One kind is natural-born. In the Bible a confused young man named Jacob was married to two girls at the same time; they were sisters and he only loved one of them. He had to force himself to be nice to Leah and to remember to bring her flowers on her birthday. But with Leah’s little sister, Rachel, that wasn’t a problem. He was head over heels with Rachel; Rachel was the one worth working seven years to get. With Rachel it was honeymoon love.

How many of us can attest to the fact that love covers over practically anything when you’re in Maui for two weeks following your wedding day? During a honeymoon you can find yourself in a hotel that doesn’t meet your expectations, you can go to a restaurant where the food is undercooked and a sporting event where your team loses. Your spouse might come down with a bug and you lock your keys in the car. Despite that, you have one of the happiest two weeks of your life. Love covers over almost anything when it’s natural, free-flowing, kissy love.

In Matthew 5, which is part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, He points out the obvious truth that there isn’t really credit given for having a forgiving nature on your honeymoon. Everybody does good deeds for their friends; everybody loans money to their friends. Loving your friends is something even the tax collectors do; in fact, most Aprils I wish I had a friend who did work for the IRS. But praying for your friends and doing good deeds for your church pals, going out to dinner with the people you already like, isn’t a true test of our Christian faith. No, what God is looking for here is His people who will allow love—meaning spiritual love, chosen love, disciplined love—to cover over a real and aggravating multitude of sins.

I have sometimes had telephone visits with people whose marriages have gone on the rocks. A husband will confide that he and his mate have just moved into separate quarters. Communication is hard. They don’t see eye to eye. And it strikes me with real pain that what seems so easy and natural for us in some circumstances is painfully impossible at other times and for some other people who may be here in our midst.

There may be someone in this place, who is in this sanctuary at this very moment; out of the corner of your eye you can see them. And right now, you do not like that person. The chemistry is volatile and toxic. You don’t openly fight with them, but if an opportunity comes to torpedo them from behind, you do it and you enjoy it. Have you ever watched a conversation drift here and there, and suddenly you thought to yourself, “I may get a chance to say this malignant but delicious thing against the person I don’t like”? There’s the choice: when the train of sinful opportunity comes by, are you going to jump on board, or are you going to do the disciplined thing and wave the devil past you?

In his book, Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis has a chapter entitled “Forgiveness,” where he writes about the admittedly difficult task of “loving” an enemy. He calls it “this terrible duty.” And here’s what he says: “Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive, as we had during the war.” Meaning World War II. Meaning Adolph Hitler. Meaning Auschwitz and the concentration camps.

The Los Angeles Times has been running a series recently on our wounded soldiers in Iraq. It’s wonderful news that, today more than ever, those Black Hawk helicopters can swoop down to pick up the wounded, and have these brave soldiers in sterile, state-of-the-art medical units within 60 minutes, or what they call the “golden hour.” If you can be in the operating theater within one hour and stop the exsanguination, they can usually save you. But even now, men’s bodies are still being just chewed up by those enemy IEDs. One doctor came upon a scene of carnage where there was blood an inch deep on the floor and a pile of body parts. And with his stomach twisting around, he had to ask: “Is that one person or two?” But people who go to war, trying to liberate a foreign population, sometimes come home with lifetime disabilities inflicted by those very people . . . and all of a sudden, forgiveness is a real, gritty, bloody business. It’s not poetry and flute music any more.

Even here at home, you may have an enemy who truly is a terrible person. Your own spouse may be an ogre at times. There might be someone here at church who really has treated you unfairly. They may be unlovable. And it’s understandable and even all right that you hate their destructive, hurtful qualities.

However, there’s one Christian sitting here today, one bad, petty, conniving, treacherous beast whom you keep on loving. “Hate the sin, but love the sinner,” we say, and we follow that rule for one person. Any idea who? (And don’t all of you say “our pastor.”) No, that Christian is you. No matter how bad you may be at times, you keep on loving and forgiving yourself.

But in what spirit do we love and forgive ourselves? Hopefully, we do it in this way. Lewis again: “We ought to hate [cruelty and treachery and cowardice and greed in our enemies] in the same way in which we hate things in ourselves: being sorry that the man should have done such things, and hoping, if it is any way possible, that somehow, sometime, somewhere, he can be cured and made human again.

When Jesus was on the cross, He experienced the scorn of those nail-driving, dice-throwing Roman soldiers, and the Redeemer side of Him wanted to have them restored, made morally right again. He experienced a caring connection with the thief next to Him—and I mean the bad one, the one who died with a curse on his lips.

And sometimes it becomes the arduous, thankless, unglamorous, heroic task of the Christian here at this church to think of this thoughtless supervisor, or the materialistic hypocrite sitting near you, or that brother or cousin who caused a rift in your family . . . and, maybe with fasting and prayer, decide to have “the mind of Christ” about that person. If we can’t have a natural love for them, at least we can have the spiritual kind, the kind forged out of Calvary and the commands of the Bible.

Remember that Peter talked about this kind of love covering over a “multitude of sins.” Well, Calvary forgiveness is sufficient to take away the sins of the world, so clearly God means for it to be enough.

On a practical, day-by-day level, though, what can we specifically do? A man who worked at a small Christian publishing company discovered that the place was internally dysfunctional. The venture ended badly for a number of people. Some lost their jobs; others were methodically maneuvered toward the back door. Finally it became his turn, and it was a fairly bitter experience. For a good while afterwards, he had a big emotional scar, and a get-even mindset. He enjoyed trashing the person involved; he waited daily for the gossip train to come into view, and he jumped on board every chance he could.

One day a Christian friend said to him, “Phil, this thing is gonna kill you if you don’t let it go. If you don’t surrender the entire mess to a higher power.” So he knew he had to, but what was the first step?

First of all, pray. Pray for the person if you can, and pray to the Lord about your feelings. That’s not going to surprise Him, but it helps to articulate your helplessness, your sinful attitudes, your frustration. Do like King David did in the “imprecatory Psalms”; just let it all hang out. We shouldn’t use curse words here at church; but if your prayers have some strong emotional language in them, it’s not going to be anything God hasn’t heard before.

Secondly, fill your life with the basic Christian disciplines. Read your Bible; share even your bruised and damaged faith. Join God’s people each week, even if you feel like a hypocrite. Everyone else here is struggling with it too; I can promise you that. Keep on with the five purposes: worship, fellowship, discipleship, ministry, mission.

And then: take baby steps. It may not be possible to fully forgive that enemy right at first. That’s all right. Becoming holy is the work of a lifetime. But take a baby step.

This particular man finally said to himself about this particular person who had hurt him: “That’s it. First of all, I’m going to stop talking about him to other people. Number two, the next time I run into him, I’m going to shake his hand and try to act like this catastrophe never happened.”

He did okay with the first thing, but several months went by, and God was kind enough to not let him run into his adversary. One day, as he was in attendance at a camp meeting retreat clear across the country, there was that enemy, big as life. And Jesus gave him the power; he went up to his former fo, said hi, and held out his hand. The surprised opponent shook it . . . and again, God in His mercy, made sure it was a very brief conversation. The man’s former boss was quickly called to another appointment, and our friend went back to his motel room and watched 16 straight hours of “Nick at Night” as his pulse rate returned to normal. Actually, it was a positive, good-feeling moment. It was a baby step, no two ways about that; but it was a step toward having the mind of Christ.

In his book, Crisis of the End Time, Marvin Moore tells how he had seriously wronged somebody way back when he was living in a college dormitory. This is decades ago, and for something like 25 years, that misdeed just sat there. He hadn’t been friends with this person, so for a while the estrangement wasn’t something he even noticed. But as he began to seek a deeper spiritual life with Jesus, that problem began to come back and bite at him. The Holy Spirit seemed to be telling him, “You need to confess that sin and seek reconciliation.”

And at first his reaction was very predictable. No way. Not a chance in the world. “I would rather die than confess that sin.” His exact words. It was almost: “I’d rather go to hell.” It was just an emotional impossibility.

Well, that’s all right. God let him keep making baby steps, keep slowly growing. But bit by bit, the conviction grew. And finally, one day, he felt like he was ready. He sensed that this confession should be a face-to-face thing, not done by e-mail, and he already had to go and see this person about something else. So he got him on the phone, and said, “When I come to see you about such-and-such, there’s something else important I need to discuss. Is that all right?”

The day came, and he had to drive for several hours to make this appointment. And as he got closer and closer to the town where his enemy lived, he found out that he was actually anticipating taking this spiritual step. In a sense, the decision was out of his hands; his new faith mandated this confession, the Bible mandated it, the promptings of God’s Spirit mandated it. And God was clearly planning to give him the power to get this thing done. When he actually did it, it turned out to be a wonderful experience.

Speaking of baby steps, it’s true that so often this discipline of loving enemies requires us to do things we simply do not feel. That doesn’t matter. In terms of both loving God and loving the unlovely people all around us, our directions are basically the same: just go and do it. C. S. Lewis advises: “Do not waste time bothering whether you ‘love’ your neighbor (in terms of feelings); act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.” He further points out that “trying to be like Jesus” will often bring into our minds something we ought to stop doing. Okay, stop. Never mind what your feelings are—stop. Something else you may need to start doing—okay, start. He once wrote: You—husband—probably should stop reading this book and go help your wife do the dishes.” Well, I don’t want to. What does that have to do with anything? Go take a baby step into the kitchen; that might soon lead to more productive steps taking you to happier parts of the house.

And as we’ve been saying in this series, let’s keep before us the grandeur of God’s kingdom. Jesus said once to His disciples in Luke 17, The kingdom of God is within you. It’s here now. You inhabit it already. If you’re My follower, you’re a citizen now. Our nation is currently debating this whole immigration issue, and should we put people on a fast track to citizenship? But Jesus tells us that when we embrace the Christian faith, it’s here now. We begin to live by its principles immediately.

So you and I are already beginning a life of preparation for residence in a land of complete harmony. We’re going to be living there. But so is that other person. So is that person in the next pew over. So is that person on the board who disagrees with you most of the time. God needs to remake us and He’s planning to remake them. And somehow we need to take our petty and not-so-petty resentments, our list of grievances and simply surrender them to the reality of God’s rule in heaven. It’s God’s task to make us ready, to make us fit and holy. Our job is to love each other and to allow that love to cover over a multitude of sins.

I don’t want to undo the strength of this kind of Christian discipline, but I will observe that even in this hard-as-nails theology, bad is still bad. Sin is still sin. And sometimes bad things still do need to be punished. In C. S. Lewis’ essay, he stoutly affirms that wrongdoing still must reap its reward. Rogue nations need to be defeated on the battlefield by Christian soldiers. Criminals sometimes need to be executed, even if they have repented. “We may kill if necessary,” he writes, “but we must not hate and enjoy it. We may punish, if necessary, but we must not enjoy it.”

And when the desire to get revenge, to savor hatred, to anticipate executions, comes along, we just have to kill that desire, he writes. Hit it over the head every time it bobs its head up, day after day, year after year. Boom! Love your enemy. Boom! Love your enemy. Love him. Christ loves him . . . YOU love him.

Paul writes in Ephesians 2 about how Jesus works this out in our lives: He is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.

Let me close by lifting up the possibility that Jesus can actually change our hearts instead of simply enforcing an emotional discipline here. Having the “mind of Christ” might be like watching an exercise video for a while, but let’s remember that Jesus really did love these people. He didn’t have to grit His teeth and force it; His love was real and genuine and spontaneous. And that can be an incredible gift if we allow Him to give it to us.

Maybe you remember a little cinematic story going back about a decade. Kathleen Kelley owns a little children’s bookstore in New York City. And she has an enemy named Joe Fox. Big, bad Joe Fox, whose huge discount megastores always put the little neighborhood bookstores out of business.

Her only comfort during this conflicted time is her anonymous Internet friend, NY 152. He’s kind, he’s caring, he understands her, he supports her. Kathleen is always comforted when her laptop informs her, You’ve Got Mail. And when she goes to the mattresses to fight big, bad Joe Fox, he’s there online for her.

Well, you know the story. She doesn’t realize that she has fallen in love with her enemy. And just before Joe Fox makes himself known, he asks her to forgive him for being mean, for putting her out of business. A few scenes later, they meet at Riverside Park. She begins to cry—tears of joy: “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so bad.” He says: “Don’t cry, Shopgirl; don’t cry.” And of course, forgiveness is now easy. She can now forgive because she’s in love. True love covers over a multitude of sins.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ. Shall we pray?

Jesus, we’re willing to reconcile and love as a discipline if need be. You went to Calvary despite human fears that drew You away. But we ask You today to give us a miraculous experience of real love, of a unity that flows freely from hearts renewed by Your grace and reborn at the Cross. In Your name we pray, Amen.

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Read more at the source: Fighting – Part 7

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

Fighting – Part 6

December 6, 2018 By admin

I Can Do It Better!

A kid was entertaining himself one day with that classic old game of tossing a baseball up in the air and then hitting it. And he was waxing eloquent to himself on what a great hitter he was. “There’s nobody like me! I can hit anything. Ain’t nobody can get me out.” He lobbed the ball up and took a mighty swing. Whiff. “That’s okay. Strike one is all. I’m the greatest hitter in the world! The fans in the stands are screaming for me. Stevie! Stevie! Stevie!” Whiff. Even now, the rhetoric continued. “No problem, baby. Greatest hitter in the world. Game Seven, the World Series, bottom of the ninth, fans on their feet . . .” Whiff.

There was just the slightest reality-check pause. He needed a paradigm shift of some kind. Suddenly the kid picked up the elusive baseball, looked at it, and a great big smile crossed his face. “I’m the greatest pitcher in the world. Untouchable! There’s nobody like me . . .”

There’s a disturbing little story in the book of Mark, chapter nine, which speaks volumes to anyone in God’s family who has ever been in an argument. Jesus and His twelve disciples were hiking from Galilee to Capernaum, and for some reason the disciples kind of hung back; they walked fifty yards behind Jesus in Maxwell Smart’s infamous “Cone of Silence.” They were talking about something they didn’t want Him to hear. That’s really brilliant, by the way—trying to hide something from Jesus.

When they got to the house they were going to be staying in, Jesus did something He often seems to do; He asked them a question He already knew the answer to. Something along the line of, “Cain, where’s your brother?”

In this episode, He asks them: “By the way, what were you guys talking about all the way over here?” In fact, “What were you arguing about?” Either Jesus was using His divine prescient knowledge, or their voices had increased in intensity and volume to the point where it was obviously some contentious issue.

Well, the men began to shuffle their feet in the dust and to look at their watches or out the window to see if any planes were going by. The Bible says, “They kept quiet.” In the King James: “They held their peace.” And the fact was that they had burned up this entire expedition arguing about one simple question: Which of them was the greatest?

That seems to us like an odd argument, maybe. I don’t remember ever sitting in our fellowship hall and having that be the point of discussion: who’s the greatest person at this table? Most of us, when we were kids, sometimes got into wrestling matches, and if you pinned someone to the ground, you wouldn’t let him up until he stated for the record: “You are greater than I.” I used to have Sabbath-afternoon wrestling competitions with my children, and of course, it was easy to beat them when they were six and I was 40. But it seems like a strange, dysfunctional thing to openly talk about with your friends: I’m better than you are.

Now, in the case of the disciples, they were probably discussing with an eye toward the question of which of them should have the greatest position in this earthly government, this Jesus cabinet they were so sure was about to be inaugurated. But the fact was, they were talking about greatest positions because each one thought he was the greatest. Their opinions of self were the source of every conflict.

And we all know how Jesus sat the guys down, called a little kid in, and said to them: “If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all.” In other words, if you think you’re great, that’s proof that you really aren’t.

Think about the Bible stories where tensions and disagreements have come because people thought they were superior. Absalom and David. Esau and Jacob. David and his brothers. Joseph and his brothers. The established converts in the Christian church versus the newcomers who were thinking of joining.

Jesus clearly teaches that we need to turn this kind of thinking on its head. “The first shall be last.” “Put others before yourself.” “Do unto others.” But in fact, the quiet unstated idea of—I am the greatest—is always hiding in the shadows of our spiritual soul.

There’s a classic story out there, and unfortunately, this is one of the rare ones the Internet can’t back up as being fully reliable. Almost always, I can search out and verify a story’s validity, and this time I couldn’t seem to do that. So I’m going to give it to you with that caveat. If it’s an urban legend, then it’s a well-meaning one.

Many years ago, as the story goes, an elegantly dressed woman got out of her automobile (or it might even have been a carriage) outside a four-star hotel, struggling with her finery and parasol. Standing by the hotel’s front entrance, she saw a nicely dressed man of African-American heritage, so she immediately yodeled over to him: “Oh, boy! Boy! Come here.” She gestured rather impatiently, and the man immediately walked over.

“Yes, ma’am?”

And she went: “Help me with my bags.” She pointed at a couple of large suitcases.

Without any protest, he gave a little bow and said: “Yes, ma’am. Certainly.” He picked up the two bags, carried them into the lobby and set them down at the front desk. This snooty lady came bustling up behind him, adjusting her flowery hat and trying to keep her pet poodles in line. And she said to him: “Thank you.” Reaching into her jeweled handbag, she pulled out three silver dimes. “Here you are.” You can tell this story happened a long time ago.

But this quiet gentleman shook his head. “No, ma’am, that’s all right,” he said, and he walked away.

But the story wasn’t over. Moments later someone who had seen this aborted thirty-cent transaction came over to the brassy lady. “Don’t you know who that was?” he scolded her. “Lady, you just made Booker T. Washington carry your suitcases!”

Now again—this story might be apocryphal. But in case it’s true, what just happened here? This woman made some assumptions. She was arriving at this nice hotel; he was just standing there. She was a high-rolling guest; he was obviously an employee. She wore the skin tone of the privileged upper crust; the color of his skin probably indicated that his parents had been slaves and he was still part of the servant caste of society. This dark-skinned man was either going to carry her bags or cook her dinner. All these things seemed obvious, and it seemed equally obvious that she could think to herself: “I am greater than you.” So by all the math that she was aware of, her giving him thirty cents for carrying her bags in . . . well, that was just about right.

But the story still isn’t over. To her credit, this woman, now that she knew the score, felt terrible. How could she have been so insensitive? She was very chagrined and embarrassed. She was willing to learn a lesson and admit she had been wrong. So she sought out the famous Dr. Booker T. Washington, who had an honorary doctorate from Dartmouth College, who was one of the leading black educators in the country, a guiding light at Tuskegee Institute, an honored guest in the White House, first African-American ever to be on a postage stamp. Of course, he was staying at the hotel, probably in the presidential suite. But when she tried to offer him a stuttering apology, he graciously shook his head and gave her a warm smile. “That’s perfectly all right,” he said. And now get this: “I enjoy helping my friends.”

Again, I don’t know if this story is true, but it is entirely consistent with everything else we know about this great American. He was a man who responded to abuse and discrimination and the unstated putdown of “Boy! Boy! Here’s three dimes. Get the bags” . . . by calling this woman a friend.

That’s a very nice anecdote, true or not—and it reminds us that most of the time, grace and gentle answers are not how we handle potential fights in the parking lot of the hotel. Or of the church. We’ve been saying in this sermon series: we live in a world of conflict, and have the added dilemma of often liking it that way. We enjoy the tumult of division, of having “our” side and “their” side. It’s almost fun to be insulted, because then you can be mad and nurse your anger.

Here is the premise suggested in God’s Word and addressed so wisely by Jesus. Very often, conflict comes, not only because we don’t agree with the other person, but because we feel so superior to them. That woman in the fancy dress and pink umbrella saw this unassuming man with the dark skin standing at the front door of the hotel. He must be a doorman. He must be making 45 cents an hour. He must be the kind of person who would be obsequiously glad to get her three shiny dimes. Being called “boy” and getting ordered around would be a small price to pay in exchange for thirty cents.

But now look at it from Booker T. Washington’s point of view. He was a famous, leading thinker, a man who had shaped public opinion and been Teddy Roosevelt’s guest in Washington, D.C. In terms of intellect and achievement, he was many stratospheres above this racially foolish woman with her tacky clothes. But instead of pointing out to her how he was so superior, he simply said: “I enjoy helping my friends.” Even this red-faced woman who hadn’t yet had the privilege of learning all things about the human race was potentially his friend. And Washington’s quiet, diplomatic answer honored God’s kingdom.

I want to take us to the book of Romans this morning, where we find a gentle reminder of this very principle. There’s so much tension in our world today, and a dose of heaven-sent humility would go such a long way toward reducing it. Here’s what Paul writes in chapter 12, verse 10: Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. And this is nice in the King James: In honor preferring one another. In Genesis 13 Abraham said to his nephew, Lot: “Go ahead. You take the prime real estate. You take the green valley; you take the fertile soil and the suburban neighborhood with plumbing and cable TV wires already strung in from the Sodom Satellite Network. I’ll take this thorny, hilly spot over here. It’s all right.” The man who clearly was greater in every respect was willing to be treated as though he were the inferior partner. Out of the abundance of God’s blessings in his life, and out of an ongoing security in his relationship with that faithfully providing God, he was safely able to go second.

We’ve been pulling bits and pieces from different Bible versions and paraphrases. Notice here what it says in The Message: Practice playing second fiddle.

Have you ever competed for the highest “chair” in an academy orchestra? I know what it means to play second fiddle; in fact, I know what it’s like to play last fiddle. Instead of being first chair, they used to put my chair behind the curtain, or, if possible, clear in another room and I’d see the conductor over closed-circuit TV. I’ve been told more than once that the quieter my playing, the better . . . until I was essentially “bow-synching.” But I also know the slightly sinful joy of moving up from third chair to second, from second to first. Of getting the highest score on a test. Of wanting to be valedictorian. Of wanting your child to be valedictorian. Of wanting your grandchild to be the prettiest baby in the worldwide Adventist Church. Of wanting my house to be as big, square-foot-wise, as the church member who just bought one last month. Of wanting to own a new such-and-such-model car because all of my friends have them now. But how many battles could be averted if we would only be willing to sit in that second chair in the orchestra and let somebody else be “better”? Even if in our hearts we know they aren’t better, can we go along and let them sit in the first seat?

A web site by a Paul Gear makes some interesting points about conflict among God’s people. Philippians 2:4 is a good verse for that discussion: Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Here’s his comment about that: “Selfish ambition is the attitude of wanting to make it to the top—wanting to be better than everyone else.” Now get this. “Conceit is the attitude of thinking you already are better than everyone else. God’s prescription for the unity of His people is humility. Humility is described here as treating others as our superiors, or considering others as better than ourselves.”

But what should we do about this? We don’t consider others as better. We think we are better. Our parents have told us so; our little man inside has told us so. Lucifer has told us so. It’s built in to think that we’re better than others; that’s a natural human defense mechanism.

In his recent book, American Theocracy, economic and political analyst Kevin Phillips suggests that America is facing real turmoil over the fact that millions of evangelical and Pentecostal Christians wake up each morning, thinking to themselves: “We’re right. What we have convictions about . . . is right. What we know is truth. What we believe is correct. The goals we have are worthy. AND—they should all be implemented. This nation will be better off, and our non-believing neighbors will be better off, if our superior views find their way to Congress and are blessed by the Supreme Court.”

And even if you and I aren’t part of the Religious Right, we all have this inner sense of spiritual superiority. The beliefs we’ve carved out are right and good, and better than what is preached in the church across the street or even by that other Adventist church that is somewhat removed from us on the spectrum of spirituality.

That’s where the gospel of Jesus is a great blessing. We’re all equal at the foot of the Cross, and if we go there in our meditating, we realize that. The Bible is a great help here, because it teaches us over and over that others have equal value to God, that our prideful opinions are erroneous, that bragging is an offense to heaven. The Church is a wonderful resource in this matter, because we can see the gifts and talents and portfolios of others who are doing things for the Lord that we can’t accomplish. Week by week I come to this place and I discover other people doing things that I’m not very good at. Administrative skills I haven’t got; musical abilities I haven’t got; medical knowledge and expertise I haven’t got; financial acumen I haven’t got. If your eyes are open at all, being in a church should make all of us feel both valued and humble.

In Romans 12, there’s a eye-opening observation made by Paul in verse 3: “By the grace given me,” he writes, “I say to every one of you: do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” And then immediately, he launches into a brilliant description of what we call the Body of Christ. Many members, one body. Many body parts, one body. Many unique functions, one body. Many and varied talents, one body. You can do this well; I can do that well. One body. You have a long string of talents; someone else may only look like they have one. One body. You like this kind of praise music; I prefer something else. One body. You have a certain conviction about the 1260 days in Revelation 12 or the presence of the prophetic gift in the church in these last days; someone else doesn’t see those views that way. One body.

This Paul Gear goes on to point out that the Bible just never once extols the importance of self-esteem. “This is never regarded as a virtue in Scripture,” he writes. “In fact, it is just the opposite: self-esteem will only get in the way of the body of Christ. Christ asks the members of His body to esteem others as better than themselves.”

And the wise, balanced person deliberately takes this view. I mentioned how Dr. Ben Carson, brilliant brain surgeon at Johns Hopkins, sometimes encountered people who didn’t know he was a renowned M.D. There were lab techs who kind of said to this skinny black kid in surgical greens, “Oh, boy! Boy! Take this to the front desk. Here are three dimes for your trouble.” He encountered that. In Newsweek, the “My Turn” column was recently written by a black female doctor named Mana Lumumba-Kasonga. Her essay was entitled “My Black Skin Makes My White Coat Vanish.” In years of practice, nobody will believe she’s a doctor. They keep sneaking peeks at her lab coat name tag. Even after treating some people, they ask her: “When’s the doctor getting here?” There were actually black patients who said, “No, give me a real doctor. I don’t want you.”

Back to Ben Carson, though—even though he was so much smarter than all the nurses, and probably making eight times as much, he carefully cultivated the attitude of valuing them. Some of these people had years of experience; he was kind of new. They knew hospital procedures; he was still having to feel his way along the maze of corridors. In his autobiography, Think Big, he writes this confession: “Because of their practical experience”—sometimes 25 or 30 years’ worth—“in observing and working with patients, they could teach me things. And they did.” Then he wisely adds this P.S. “There isn’t anybody in the world who isn’t worth something.”

Dale Carnegie, in his bestseller, How to Win Friends and Influence People, quotes Ralph Waldo Emerson, who says this: “Every man I meet is my superior in some way. In that, I learn from him.”

By the way, Jesus doesn’t just encourage this attitude of humility because it will unleash the Church’s power and influence. He also nudges us away from self-esteem for our own sakes. Our own happiness and well-being is at stake if we fall into the dead-end trap of competing with others. There will always be a pastor out there with a bigger church than I’ve got; there will always be a professional with a bigger house than you’ve got. To feel good by comparing up and down the scale of affluence is always going to be a temporary high, like cocaine.

Speaking of drugs, it’s just slowly coming out why a certain San Francisco baseball slugger got himself into steroids. In May of 1998, the San Francisco Giants went to St. Louis for a three-game series, and a lean, trim, athletic, base-stealing player named Barry Bonds had to watch as “Big Mac,” Mark McGwire, got headline after headline. After a terrible players’ strike three years earlier, fans around the world now were transfixed as McGwire and Sammy Sosa were suddenly socking homers out of ballparks everywhere and chasing Roger Maris’ record.

Now, in the ‘98 season, Bonds ended up with a sparkling .303 batting average, 37 home runs, on the All-Star team for the eighth time. He was in the middle of a lucrative $44 million, six-year baseball contract. He had more of this world’s goods than anyone sitting here today could possibly fathom. But all the headlines went to McGwire. The Cardinals came to the Bay Area to play in Bonds’ home town, and the media crush for McGwire was so frenzied they had to put crowd-control guide ropes around home plate when he took batting practice. Bonds saw the ropes, asked, “What’s this?” and just about exploded when he found out it was to control McGwire-mania. “Not in my house,” he said, adding a few expletives and threatening to tear the ropes down himself. Shortly after that he began his own destructive steroid descent into hell.

Today his life is basically ruined. He’s exposed as a cheat. When he finally hit homer #756 and passed up Hank Aaron, fans outside of the Bay Area turned away in disdain and spoke about asterisks next to the “record.” His going into the Hall of Fame is definitely in jeopardy. The river of steroids has made him abusive, misshapen, covered with acne, bald, and impotent. And all because someone else was getting headlines he thought should come to him.

Jesus says to us, “I want to set you free from that. I want to release My Church from the conflicts and the turmoil and the theological debates that all stem from the idea that Person A is better or smarter or more biblically astute than Person B.” C. S. Lewis has a wonderful line in his book, Mere Christianity, from the chapter entitled, very simply: “The Great Sin”—meaning, pride. Here it is: “If you really get into any kind of touch with [God] you will, in fact, be humble—delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once gotten rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment possible: trying to take off a lot of silly, ugly, fancy-dress in which we have all got ourselves up and are strutting about like the little idiots we are.” And he concludes that escaping from that vicious cycle, that Wall Street rat race of house competition and vehicle competition and job competition, is like a cold drink of water to a thirsty traveler.

Often some of you stay by in the afternoon and help us with one mission charity or another. Someone comes through our doors seeking help, and ends up next to you. And you might find yourself visiting with someone who, on paper, doesn’t have your resumé. You will likely have a better education, better job, and—obviously—a better-stocked pantry in your home.

I want you to do two things, as a spiritual exercise. First of all, I want you to connect with that person. Find a way to personally say to them: “It’s so good to have you here. It’s an honor to have you trust us this way. You’re important to our church family.”

And then, secondly: just stop and realize something. That person is your superior in some way. They have survived hardships you might not have endured. They may have street smarts that you lack. They have coped with difficulties that might knock you flat on your face. Out of perhaps meager resources, they, too, have been generous in their community. Jesus and His disciples once watched rich millionaires give big gifts that scarcely made a dent in their pile of CDs and IRAs. Then a widow from the local food bank pantry crept in and put in her last two cents. Jesus had some very kind words to say about who was spiritually “great” that day in the temple.

So try to get the antenna of Jesus out and get a grateful sense of how you are sitting in the presence of this special, gifted person. Someone who comes in this afternoon might someday be one of the highest of leaders, worship champions, when we get into God’s kingdom. Some of our white-collar professions aren’t even going to be needed when we get to the New Jerusalem; I have it on good authority that all doctors, dentists, nurses, psychologists, and lawyers are going to be immediately unemployed upon our arrival in that Better Land. But people who have learned to care for others, who have shared cups of cold water, who have ridden a bus to get an A.A. degree at the community college, who have tutored kids in after-school programs . . . they may be generals and Cabinet officials in God’s eternal government, while your pastor is a humble and happy foot soldier.

And if any of us struggle with the fact of superior skills—if you have the highest IQ in the room and know it—then you do what Jesus did. On that Thursday night in the Upper Room, He was better. He knew it; they all knew it. He was God. He was their Master. He was their Leader. They called Him Lord, and they were right in calling Him Lord. But when it came time to wash feet, Jesus went ahead and did the humble thing. Even as a King, He acted the part of a servant.

Chuck Colson used to be a big shot in Washington. His office was next to Nixon’s; he rode on Air Force One. He shaped policies that impacted the nation and the world. Then he went to jail for being a Watergate conspirator. As a brand new Christian there, he found out that he was actually a pretty ordinary guy, and that some of the quiet believers in the next cell over had a strength of character he could only stand back in awe and praise God for.

And he wrote later these humbling words: “It’s kind of hard to wash someone else’s feet . . . when you’re up on your own pedestal.” Shall we pray?

Lord, we’re in Your house today as a beautiful mosaic of talents and ideas. We bring different skills, different financial backgrounds, different passions and theological ideas to this holy place at the foot of the Cross. Please help us to see Calvary as the great leveler; help us to see our fellow believers as wonderfully diverse, equally valuable parts of one glorious and global Body. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

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Read more at the source: Fighting – Part 6

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Better Sermons.

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