who shouts out hallelujah
who's gonna sing out loud
Martin Luther once said a theologian of glory calls evil
good and good evil; while a theologian of the cross, on the other hand, calls a
thing what it is.
What I have come to find more and more is that this call of
Martin Luther is less of a cool expression, as it is true and important.
Clarity, precisions, accuracy; these are all important.
They are as important, as they are elusive.
Having clarity, being precise, achieving accuracy; if we
could manage these feats even half the time, life would be pretty good.
The fact of the matter is, though, that having the insight
to actually call a thing what it is, is incredibly difficult. Luther's call,
seems an idealistic dream...
All we have to do is open the newspaper and it is all too
apparent that the ability to call a thing what it is, is sorely missing. If you
want to observe striving after accuracy at its most pathetic; just skip ahead
to the letters to the editor.
The more we sit with the issues of our day, as we observe
the public debate, the more it becomes clear there isn't much clarity; and
sadly there is even less coherence or congeniality in the discussion.
All too often it seems for every claim, for every story;
there is a counter-claim, another story.
These multiple claims, these versions of the truth compete
and compete, until the squall of the debate grows and grows until all there is,
is a deafening roar of incoherent shouts.
For every story, it seems there is another story.
Recently I was reminded of how often these questions are
asked of us. Page two of the Hawk Eye had a story about the surprisingly most
popular book in Norway.
Norway, that incredibly secular country's most popular book
wasn't "50 Shades of Gray," it wasn't "Girl with the Dragon
Tattoo;" It was the Bible!
Wow! I thought, the Bible, well maybe Christianity isn't in
as terrible of a place as I thought.
I left the parsonage on this high-note. Within ten minutes
in the office, though, I was reminded of our lights that need replacing, the
smaller summer attendance, and to top it off I was forwarded a report on the
continued decline of membership within churches in general.
So I sat there wondering, what is the story?
For those of us aiming for precision, accuracy or clarity,
for all of us theologians of the cross apprentices, navigating all these
competing stories begins to seem nearly impossible.
In fact, all too often it seems reasonable people just
throw up their arms and give up on the pursuit of clarity altogether.
As much as we may want to give up on the enterprise of
calling a thing what it is, we cannot. Martin Luther was on something we he
tied theology to the cross to naming a thing.
The task of deciding which narrative warrants our trust is
one that cannot be put aside. It cannot be put aside because it is a question
that is asked of us all too often. Finally the task of deciding which narrative
warrants our trust is one that cannot be put aside because it is a question
that we implicitly answer with our actions every moment of our lives.
The question comes to us, not just now, but really every
day, every minute. The question is: what story is true, what version of the
story are we willing to bet our lives on.
It is a scary question, but it is one that is asked of us
incessantly...
For instance, is life simply a pursuit after more and more
wealth, or is life about something else.
Is the goal to take care of number one and to
you-know-where with the rest, or are we are sister and brother's keeper?
Is the story of Christianity one that will be brushed into
the dustbin of history; or is it another story, one of always being made new?
How we answer each of these questions has broad
implications.
See these questions, what is the story we'd bet our life
on, which version of the story merits our trust, are as important as they are
asked of us constantly.
So the question is, what is the story?
What story would you bet your life on if it came down to
it, suddenly and finally?
The answer you give will have significant implications. It
will affect what decisions you make, how you look at the world even.
Consider us, little Trinity.
We're still here, still scraping it out, but it is a tough
climb. There is the list of repairs that doesn't get shorter but longer, the
bills that are still a challenge to manage.
So is the story one of decline and death?
In the midst of all that, though, banners are going up,
we've purchased some ads, there is a visioning committee being formed, buds of
something new are poking through the soil.
So is the story one of being made new, of new life?
What is the story, is it one of trials or is it one of new
life?
What is our story, is it one of slow decline, or is story
of being made new emerging?
Which story would you place your bets on?
For as much as we may want to pretend; we can't escape it,
the question of what story are we going to place our bets on, is as important
as it is real.
What is our
story!?
As we step forward, fearful and trembling, preparing to
place our chips on one story or another, I invite us to pause.
Let us pause to remember that we are not the only, nor the
first, to be asked what story we'd place our bets upon, give our lives over to.
In today's first lesson we hear about the end of one of
David's most terrible episodes. He has used his power to take a woman who was
married. To cover his despicable behavior, David has the woman's husband
murdered.
Now David is the king, so for those of us who like safe
bets, it wouldn't be a stretch to figure David is going to get away with this
abuse.
Before we can place our chips, though, Nathan bursts in.
Nathan bursts in and he tells a story, he tells a story of
David's behavior from God's eyes.
A spoiled brat didn't want to give anything up, so the
wretch stole from a poor person. Upon hearing this story David rages,
"that monster deserves to die!"
So Nathan, brave fellow that he was, looks through David's
rage, locks eyes with with the king and says, 'you are that man.'
Suddenly, and improbably, another story takes center stage...
Or there is our Gospel today.
A Pharisee is throwing a banquet for Jesus. Suddenly this
woman with chutzpah crashes the party. The Pharisee isn't too happy, but more
than that, he is disgusted. How could Jesus relate to such a woman, she's a sinner after all.
Before Simon can place his bets that Jesus cannot
really a prophet, Jesus does something prophetic; he looks into Simon's heart.
"Simon, I have something to say to you," Jesus
says. "Speak," Simon replies. And Jesus tells a story, a story that
reveals Simon's heart, as well as reveals that this woman, who has been scorned
by Simon, is truly the one who welcomes Jesus - not Simon.
Suddenly, and improbably, another story takes center
stage...
What we see is that the Bible, our Holy book, is a story
full of characters who are familiar with the same struggles we wrestle with day
in and day out.
What is the story that merits faith, merits trust?
The Bible knows these questions. The Bible is all about
people wrestling with these same questions, and the implications of the answers
they give.
Will it be a story of kings getting away with any kind of
miserable behavior, or is there another story?
Will it be a story of religious people pushing different
people away, or is there another story?
In each of these episodes the characters place their bets,
and something happens.
As we observe these episodes unfolding, as we watch the
characters place their bets; we find we must place ours too. The Bible suddenly
puts the familiar question to us as well.
In each of these episodes the familiar question is put to
us, if you were there, if your life finally and suddenly depended upon it,
which story would you place your bet?
Which one?
These are powerful stories.
Powerful stories.
Stories that ask, place your bet on the story of
Christianity continuing to decline and eventually die, or emerging again into
history as something different, something made new...
Which one?
Which version, which story warrants our trust and
imagination?
Thankfully the task of deciding which story warrants our
trust is not one we have to do alone.
Thankfully we are not the first, or the only, to be asked
such challenging questions.
Thankfully we are not alone.
Each of the readings we had today acknowledge the kind of
world we live in, the kind of world where there are any number of competing
claims, competing narratives, competing versions of the story...
Most of all, though, thankfully these readings don't just
offer company in our misery.
These readings do acknowledge, "yes, we know you are
bombarded with many stories," but they go on to do something incredible.
These stories go on to offer a promise!
Just as the characters we heard about, found another, a
surprising story emerging; the story of God; so will we too.
Finally it is St. Paul, the storyteller par excellence, who
put it best, "It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in
me."
What Paul proclaims to us today, that as all those other
stories fail and we ourselves die to those stories, something surprising
happens; we ourselves are made new.
Christ takes our story, and makes it his own.
Christ takes his story, and gives it to us.
That is the good news.
The one who has never failed you yet, he is the one who
gives you a story that is worthy of your trust.
The one who took all of our stories, and died, and then
rose carrying our stories with him past even death and dirt; He is the one who
gives us a story worthy of our trust.
When this happens, when our Lord and Savior bursts into our
story to give us one that deserves our trust, we find can't help but become
captivated with God's story, we can't help but become theologians of the cross
ourselves.
That is the good news.
It is the news that inspired people like Nathan, that
grateful woman and Paul to live into an altogether surprising story of always
being made new.
Amen
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