The Cornerstone Pulpit

Offering edited sermons from the pulpit of Cornerstone Baptist Church in Enid, Oklahoma.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

I Will Raise Up for You a Prophet . . .

4th Sunday after Epiphany

Deuteronomy 18:15-20; Mark 1:21-28; 1st Corinthians 8:1-13

I have something of a parable to share with you. Let’s call it the Preacher’s Power Problem.

Many of you know that this last fall, I purchased a new camper for my hunting lease in Texas. I had been thinking about replacing it for some time, and so I began making plans to do so this fall. Well, one afternoon in August, Mickey, the coordinator for our lease, called me to tell me that we had had a flood. We camp on North Morgan Creek, and our landowner had been telling us for some time that when the 100 year flood came, we would be able to find our campers down in Lake Buchannon. Well, this was the 50 year flood, and it devastated our campground. My camper floated about 75 yards downstream, and after the mud and the mold had their way with it, it was rather uninhabitable. No longer was this a plan – it became something of a necessity. So, during my October trip, I purchased a 1983 Wilderness camper – 22 foot, from stem to stern. It’s really quite nice, and gives a whole new meaning to “roughing it.”

The second illustration - You all know how much I love my little pick-up truck. It does just about anything I need it to do. But it is absolutely too small to tow a 22 ft. camper. So, before I purchased this “new to me” camper, I borrowed my brother’s pickup truck – Ford 250 diesel. It has a monster engine, and it towed the camper to Burnet without any problem. This spring, we will be moving the camp off the creek, up the hill, and I will have to borrow his truck again to haul my new camper up the hill. In fact, all the guys on the lease have pickups, but they will all need some kind of truck with this kind of power that can haul a camper up the hill.

The third part of the lesson came when I hooked up the camper to our utility pole – ran my little 14 gauge, 100 ft. cord over to the pole, plugged it in, opened up the camper, turned on a few lights, flipped on the air-conditioner, and “pow!!” It blew a breaker immediately. Over the course of the next couple of days, I went to town and purchased 100 feet of 10 gauge wire, installed the correct plugs, and now I have sufficient power in the camper to do just about anything.

A parable in three parts about power. The incredible power of water rushing down through a West Texas creek bed – the authentic power of a pick-up truck created to tow objects larger than itself – the mysterious power of connection to a source with capacity to sustain power. All in all, this fall was another lesson for me in power.

Our scripture lessons this morning offer to us a lesson in power – Mark actually uses the word “authority” – but this is a lesson in power. Faux power vs. authentic power. Mark said that the statement of those who were listening to Jesus teach for the first time in that Capernaum synagogue centered around their “astonishment” at his teaching, “for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” E.F. Hutton would have done well to have created a commercial take-off on this scene – “when Jesus speaks, people listen.” More than that, when Jesus speaks, people find healing.

Most commentators on this passage take notice that the exercise of this power was first recognized in his teaching, then secondarily in the healing of the man with an unclean spirit. I rather wonder. What we have in this scripture is Mark’s take on the story after the entire story had unfolded. I wonder if this story would have made it into his gospel if Jesus had not addressed the need of this demon possessed man. I wonder if this story would have gotten any press if Jesus had been unsuccessful at exorcising the demons out of this unfortunate fellow. I wonder.

Several years ago, my friend George Mason wrote this in his sermon on this passage. “Anything that wars against our identity as beloved children of God is an unclean spirit in us. It may be a sense that we are unworthy of God’s love. It may be a deep-seated shame that speaks to you as loudly as a separate voice in your head.”
[1] I think George was on to something. It is the rare occasion when you or I run across something we would describe as “demon possession.” I have only heard one story of such in my life time that I categorize this way – and I didn’t experience it – I only heard about it. But you and I do run into people who are dealing with their own “demons” – to use the phrase more loosely. We deal with thing which war against our identity as beloved children of God. We deal with feelings of unworthiness. We deal with shame – debilitating shame – that renders us impotent to function consistently in our world, much less to function powerfully. Those are the “demons” of our age – the demons that constrict, negate, and otherwise ineffectuate our sense of self, our feelings of worth, and our usefulness in this world.

There are other examples of faux power all around us. Our good Dr. Pontious is fond of hyperventilating anytime someone mentions the words “pastoral authority.” His reactions come from his long-standing problem with the way pastoral authority has been interpreted, particularly by the Southern Baptist Convention. I was raised in the SBC when the pastoral model that was taught and set forth was one of “servant leader.” But that model changed in 1988 at the Southern Baptist Convention meeting in San Antonio.

Couched in new language revising the conventions stance on the Priesthood of all believers came this startling pronouncement – that pastors are the authority in the church. Let me quickly read the entire statement for you.

Whereas, None of the five major writing systematic theologians in Southern Baptist history have given more than a passing reference to the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer in their systematic theologies; and

Whereas, The Baptist Faith and Message preamble refers to the priesthood of the believer, but provides no definition or content to the term; and

Whereas, The high profile emphasis on the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer in Southern Baptist life is a recent historical development; and

Whereas, the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer has been used to justify wrongly the attitude that a Christian may believe whatever he so chooses and still be considered a loyal Southern Baptist; and

Whereas, the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer can been used to justify the undermining of pastoral authority in the local church.

Be it therefore resolved, That the Southern Baptist Convention, meeting in San Antonio, Texas, June 14-16, 1988, affirm its belief in the biblical doctrine of the priesthood of the believer (1 Peter 2:9 and Revelation 1:6); and

Be it further resolved, That we affirm that this doctrine in no way gives license to misinterpret, explain away, demythologize, or extrapolate out elements of the supernatural from the Bible; and

Be it further resolved, That the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer in no way contradicts the biblical understanding of the role, responsibility, and authority of the pastor which is seen in the command of the local church in Hebrews 13:17, "Obey your leaders, and submit to them; for they keep watch over your souls, as those who will give an account;" and

Be finally resolved, That we affirm the truth that elders, or pastors, are called of God to lead the local church (Acts 20:28). [2]

Dr. Pontious does well to cringe when this statement is made. We all do well when anyone announces power which they possess. Pronouncements prescribing possession of power are almost always attempts at wrangling more power for the one making the pronouncement. The Southern Baptist statement on pastoral authority is a marvelous example of faux power, exhibited in our world.

There is an interesting idea presented in the Old Testament text for today. The writer of Deuteronomy 18:18 says, “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their own people; I will put my words in the mouth of the prophet, who shall speak to them everything that I command. In God’s eternal plan, power comes from our ranks, and returns to our ranks.
God chose to bring this prophet, Jesus the Christ, out from among us. Jesus was born of a woman – a virgin woman – and lived and worked and played and served among us. This was not power that came from a disconnected source. This was power that rose up from among us. Jesus was one of us – fully man, even while being fully God.

But true to His nature, Jesus returns His power to us. In speaking to His disciples at the ascension, Jesus responded to the fears of His disciples, and of every disciple who would ever follow, regarding our seeming powerlessness. He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or epochs which the Father has fixed by His own authority; but you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth.”

Jesus exhibited power in teaching, and further exhibited power in healing. His power was limitless, and even our scriptures tell us but a few of the ways in which He exhibited His power while He walked among us. According to Jesus’ statement recorded in Acts, the power that Jesus bestows on us is for purposes of giving it away. Power is meant to be used, and in our case, it is meant to be used not for ourselves, but for others. That is the real difference between faux power and authentic power. The truth of this teaching harkens back to the favorite sermon of our Lord, and His example to us, when He said, “If you want to save your life, you must lose it.” We find God’s power when we give it away. We find God’s power when we expend it on others in the kingdom of God.

Our epistle for today, 1st Corinthians, gives us a wonderful illustration in relation to the freedom we have in Christ. People think freedom is something to possess – to have. Freedom is something to share – to invest in others.

In 1st Corinthians 8, Paul offers three warnings, or sorts. In v.1, he says, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” He was speaking to those Corinthians, and other Christians who continue to read this book, that while we can possess great knowledge, knowledge is best honored when it is used and shared. Possession of knowledge, according to Paul, in no way compares to love exhibited.

Again, in v. 9, Paul says, “Take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak.” He speaks most directly about the eating of meat previously sacrificed to idols. That was a problem for some in the Corinthian church. Not necessarily for Paul – but he knew, as we know, that our license, our liberty, must never hamper or constrain another, especially in matters of faith.

And finally, Paul says in v. 12, “When you thus sin against members of your family, and wound their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ.” Paul equates the way we deal with one another as the way we deal with Christ. We are to treat others, not just as we would want to be treated ourselves, but as we would want to treat Christ.

Let me pose some questions for us this morning. Most of us possess some power in our lives, and at the same time, most of us feel extreme powerlessness from time to time. What would you do with more power? If God invested you with more power, would you use it for your own benefit, or for the benefit of others? Would you be a good steward of more power in your life if God were to so grant it?

Let’s pray.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] George Mason, “What Do You Want with Us?” Wilshire Baptist Church, January 30, 2000.
[2] Southern Baptist Convention resolution passed at 1988 Southern Baptist Convention meeting in San Antonio, Texas.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Urgency

3rd Sunday after Epiphany

Jonah 3; Mark 1:14-20; 1st Corinthians 7:29-31

I’ve been watching a lot of basketball lately. You can tell by my voice – you sit too close to Dr. Pontious, and you’re likely to get caught up in the vocal frenzy coming from the stands at every errant call the officials in High School basketball make. And believe me; they make a lot of errant calls.

Anyway, the Plainsmen are exciting to watch this year, and I’ve tried to make as many games as possible. Last Tuesday, they played Edmond Memorial in a great game. Our boys led throughout the entire game, but late in the 4th quarter, the Bulldogs started catching up. They cut down the lead to virtually nothing. Then our boys jumped back ahead, and it was then that I noticed Edmond’s urgency. We scored, and their team hustled – and I mean hustled down the court. They had to – time was running out.

All of our scriptures this morning let us in on one of the great “epiphanies” of the new year – time is running out. And everybody knows it.

In the little book of Jonah, we get an inkling of the urgency God feels in sharing His message with the world. Jonah’s sitting on the beach in a pile of whale – how shall we say it – “spit up?” When you’re talking about a whale, I hardly think you can call it “spit up!!” I think the scriptures actually say that the whale “vomited” Jonah up on the beach. I’m spending a few moments commenting on this because this subject always gets the attention of older children and Junior High boys, and I certainly want their attention this morning. Anyway, Jonah’s sitting in a mess, and the scripture tells us “the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying . . .”

I don’t know the last time God spoke to you about something important. But the question is – did He have to come back and speak to you a second time about the matter? Did God have to get your attention the way He got Jonah’s attention?

Jonah got up. God got his attention, and Jonah got up, and went to Nineveh. It took him three days to walk all the way across the city – I suspect Nineveh was about the size of Houston today – roughly 60 miles across. Jonah walked all the way across the city with a message of doom – “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” Not what you’d call a “winsome” sermon – Jonah was in a pout, and he wasn’t going to do one thing more than God had instructed him to do. So he told them God was going to zap them, and that’s all he had to say. To remind us of the end of the story, his preaching worked, the people repented, God relented, and Jonah pouted some more. Chapter 4 tells us how God had to teach Jonah a lesson about pouting and obedience – something about a worm and a gourd vine. Yeah, Jonah was quite a character. But he picked up on the urgency God felt to get His message to the Ninevites.

You can sense the urgency in Jesus’ voice when he calls Simon, Andrew, James and John – all four fishermen. The first part of our chapter from Mark reminds us that “after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time if fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” Then twice in the rest of the passage, Marks reminds us that “immediately” they left their nets and followed Jesus. Jesus sensed an urgency about his mission, and the disciples picked up on that same urgency. They dropped everything – and they followed.

When’s the last time you felt that kind of urgency about following Jesus. Jesus still calls us – I suspect Jesus issues some kind of call on our lives with some regularity. I know He calls to me regularly. God calls to all of us. Sometimes we are hard of hearing when God calls. Sometimes our ears are otherwise occupied – we’re listening to other noises and other calls. Sometimes our ears are disinterested in the call of God – we’ve heard this call before, and we know that it will cost us something to listen and heed the call of God. Sometimes we’re flat disobedient to the call of God – we have other priorities – we have other interests – we have other missions – we have other relationships – and we’re flat disobedient. God keeps calling – ever calling.

Paul understood this urgency when he wrote to the Corinthians. He was writing about other interests – marriage, to be specific. And then he used that opportunity to remind us that the time is short. “Brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short,” he says. And then he says, “for the present form of this world is passing away.” Paul understood that there was urgency to the call of God – to the amount of time that was left to spread the message of God. He said that the time had “grown short” – that the world “is” – present tense – passing away.

You and I have a problem with this kind of urgency. We don’t seem to possess the kind of urgency about spreading the gospel that the scriptures suggest. I think there are a couple of reasons. Christ’s ministry on earth didn’t occur in front of us – we didn’t watch his ministry. We read about it. We listen to others tell about it. But we didn’t see it, and we didn’t hear Him speak to us, and so, for whatever reason, we don’t sense the same urgency. The second reason may be this - we don’t have any experience that proves it to be true. Not really. We were a part of the seventies when Hal Lindsey came out with his book, “The Late, Great, Planet Earth.” Hal tried to scare the begeebers out of us by setting forth an interpretation of how the end of the world would come about. He was just sure that it was going to happen soon, and thousands upon thousands of people came to Christ “because the end was near, and they wouldn’t have a second chance.” But Jesus didn’t come back in the seventies, and He didn’t come back in the eighties when Jim Jones dragged a bunch of folks off to Guyana to drink the Kool-aid, and Jesus didn’t come back in the nineties when the stock market took a dive and the end of the millennium was rolling around. And now, Jesus hasn’t come back in the first years of the 21st century. No, we don’t have any experience with anything that would make us feel the urgency that God and Jonah and Jesus and Paul felt in our scriptures for today. In fact, if we have any experience at all, we have 2000 years of experience with the patience of God in holding off on the return of Christ. We have more experience with God’s patience, and urgency takes a back seat to patience just any old time – every time.

I spent some time this week reading back over some of the correspondence I sent and received last year. I was looking for a particular piece of correspondence, and I spent some time looking at some other things I wrote and received last year. Much of last year was consumed with my Dad’s illness, his last days, and his death. I remember the urgency I felt in getting down to Granbury during those last months. I remember needing to get down there and spend some time with him, to check and see how things were going for him and my mother, and to spend some time with him. But that last week, I put him in the hospital on Tuesday, and didn’t sense urgency to get back. I thought I would be able to go back the next week and help make decisions about where Dad would go after he checked out of the hospital. But Dad didn’t check out of the hospital – he died on Friday night. My sense of urgency lapsed, and I missed my chance at one last visit – one last opportunity.

In the same way I would trade almost anything for a chance to talk to Dad again – it’s that same way with the urgency we must feel to share the good news of Jesus. I invoke my grandmother’s word – “must.” We can use less imperative words. We can say “ought to” or “should.” “We ‘ought to’ share the gospel.” “We ‘should’ share the good news.” But my grandmother liked to use the word “must.” It carried more imperative with it. It carries more urgency. “We ‘must’ get busy and tell this lost world that Jesus loves them.” We simply “must.”

I have three other thoughts for us this morning about these scriptures. You’ll notice from all of our scriptures that this is our business. Salvation and redemption are God’s business – that’s for sure. But God has chosen to involve us in His business, and so we are in the gospel sharing business. This calling is not just for some of us. God’s calling to share the gospel is for all Christians. Every man, woman and child who calls upon the name of Christ is also called to share this gospel message. We are certainly called to support missionaries with our finances. Cooperative ministries that take the gospel to difficult places are a good idea. But we are called to share this story personally. Each one of us has a circle of influence that is unique to us. We each have friends – personal friends – who are waiting to hear the gospel from us, whether they know it or not.

There is another thought. In the case of Jonah, and I think a little in the case of the four disciples Jesus called, we are to be obedient – urgently obedient – even when we don’t know exactly why, and even when we don’t agree with God on the matter. We use the twin excuses of not knowing everything and not agreeing on a subject in a variety of applications in our lives. They make pretty convenient excuses. But when it comes to the gospel, and when it comes to obedience in sharing the gospel, they just don’t hold water.

One last thought. Most of us aren’t sure what to tell others about the gospel. Well, I have good news for us. We aren’t responsible for anything except what we know to be true – personally. Mark tells us that Jesus was preaching that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.” That’s a pretty good start – when it comes to the gospel. We might say it this way. “I didn’t know about what Jesus did for me. But then someone told me about Jesus, and his life, and his death, and his resurrection - and I trusted Him. My life hasn’t been the same.”

We could tell them that.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Monday, January 16, 2006

Spiritual Transparency

2nd Sunday after Epiphany

John 1:43-51; 1st Samuel; Psalm 139
The news has been full as of late with stories of deception, intrigue, and scandal. Things are rarely as they seem, and people are rarely completely the persons they purport to be. So, you and I are no longer surprised when we discover something about someone we thought we knew, only to find out that much of the relationship has been a façade.

Revelation of self to others – it’s the thing that makes so much of life exciting. Do you remember dating? I know – for most of us it’s a faint memory. Dating was all about revealing yourself and discovering the other person. Whether it was sipping coke out of the same glass, or going to the movies, or going to church – the goal was revelation and discovery. We spent our time getting to know the other person, and letting them know something about us. We didn’t share everything about ourselves – heavens, most of us tried to share only the part we thought looked good. Truth of the matter was – we shared a great deal more.

It’s much the same in most of our relationships. When I was in seminary, doing doctoral work, in one of my psychology classes I was introduced to a descriptive analysis of the way people reveal themselves to one another. It was known as the Johari window – you may remember something about that theory of personal revelation and discovery. The theory behind the Johari window was that we enter into relationships with others for the purpose of discovery, and that we accomplish that through the sharing of information. In each relationship there are things that we know about the other person, and things we do not know about the other person. Gradually over time, we enter into conversation, relational situations, trust opportunities and the like – all for the purpose of discovery and revelation.

Psychologists take this a step further to suggest that with each of us, there are things that we do not know about ourselves. So, for each of us, we are involved in a life-long process of self-discovery. There are hundreds of stages in this process, and over our lifetimes we may experience exhilaration and joy, or frustration and disappointment – all in the process of self-discovery. We think that we have finally figured out something about ourselves, only to discover an incongruity or deception at a level that we previously didn’t think possible. And the cycle continues for most of our lives – at least until we reach the point of resignation, or that of complete cynicism.

One of the great mysteries of faith is God’s decision to reveal Godself to us. Were it not for God’s choice in the matter, you and I would know nothing of Almighty God. But God chose, in God’s wisdom, to reveal Godself to us, and we are better for it. God revealed Godself in creation. God revealed Godself through prophets and leaders of Israel. God revealed more of Godself through the writings we now call the Bible. God revealed even more of Godself through His Son, Jesus. And God continues to reveal Godself through the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives. God is a god Who values revelation – revelation of self as a means to relationship.

It is no surprise to us, then, that God desires that we live transparent spiritual lives before God. The intimacy God desires from us requires a level of transparency that makes most of us uncomfortable, to say the least.

I want to make a distinction today between social, personal transparency, and spiritual transparency. Social, personal transparency is a factor of our personalities and our choices. Some among us are more guarded about revealing themselves to others. Others are open books – we hear and know often way more than we want to know. Those expressions of transparency are social and personal, and are factors of innate feelings, experiences, and choices, and they are perfectly acceptable to the point that they do no harm to the individual who possesses those attributes.

And I’m not speaking about transparency in our relationship with God as it relates to others. While Christianity is not a private faith – we are admonished in the scriptures to live our faith in an open and public way – the depths of our relationship to God remains a personal and private matter. Only when we choose to share with others the depth of how we relate to, talk with, and commune with God is that personal revelation relative. We do not coerce faith expressions from another, and we do not condemn others for keeping their deepest thoughts and encounters with God private.

No, what I’m talking about today is transparency in our relationship with God, as it relates directly to our relationship with God. I want to let us in on a little secret – the exchange of information we have with God is different than in any other relationship we will ever have. In other relationships, we make ourselves transparent so that the other person will discover something about us. In our relationship with God, God already knows everything about us. God is never surprised by our revelations – has something to do with omniscience, don’t you know. God is more interested in the manner in which we are transparent, and our willingness to learn more about ourselves as we progress in our relationship with God.

Our scriptures for today are illustrative on this matter. First of all, when we listen to the story of Samuel, we realize that God looks for people to serve Him who are willing to respond. Samuel was just a boy when he was serving in the temple with Eli. It was not unusual that a young boy like Samuel would serve with an old priest like Eli. What was unusual was stated in that first verse – “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; and visions were not widespread.” It seems that Israel had grown complacent in her relationship with God, and God searched for a prophet who was willing to respond above all else. I suspect God had been looking for a while – Samuel finally fit the bill.

God called to Samuel. That’s not unusual – God calls to each of us, in different ways. What was unusual was that Samuel responded to the authority in his life at the time – old Eli. We are not prone to respond to authority. When we hear the voice of God, most of us are prone first to ignore God’s voice, then put off the call of God, and finally reject God’s voice. We aren’t prone to respond to authority.

American Christians are particularly troubled by this phenomenon. We live in a “bootstrap” country – we live in a land where self-sufficiency and individuality are prized as characteristics of stalwart people. I fear that very thing which makes us great plays against the way we live out our Christian lives. In spiritual relational considerations, God does not prize individuality and self-sufficiency. God loves our dependence on God for all of our needs, wants, and desires. God loves for us to come to Him as little children. God delights in our need for God, and God delights when we respond affirmatively to God’s authority in our lives.

Eli knew well enough that God was calling Samuel. And Eli knew well enough that God had some particular problem with the way Eli had done his work over the years. God’s revelation to Samuel about Eli was troubling to the boy, and rightly so. But to his credit, and I think to the credit of Eli, Samuel continued down the path of willingness to respond to God, and shared with Eli the complete revelation of God. I think even old Eli gained something positive from this experience.

Then when we look over to the Psalm for today, we learn that God looks for people to serve Him who understand their limitations. Even as I speak, that idea seems weak. God desires that we know so much more than our limitations – He desires that we know that God is God, and we’re not. He desires that we know that God is all powerful, and all knowing, and all present. He desires that we realize the vastness of His presence, His knowledge, and His power - at the same time that we recognize the puniness of our own existence. The psalmist understood something of his place in the grand scheme of things – when it came to God. Were we to rewrite this psalm in a single verse, we might say something like, “God, you know so much more – about everything, including me – than I can ever hope to know.” Something like that.

Peterson starts to get at this idea of transparency with his translation. “God, investigate my life; get all the facts first hand. I’m an open book to you; even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too – your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful – I can’t take it all in!” Then He closes the psalm with this translation. “Investigate my life, O God, find out everything about me; Cross-examine and test me, get a clear picture of what I’m about; See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong – then guide me on the road to eternal life.” Yeah, I think Peterson gets at it.

When I first looked at the scriptures for this day, I was most intrigued by the gospel story. What a wonderful story. Jesus is on his way to Galilee, and on his way finds his new disciple, Philip. Philip, in turn, finds his friend Nathanael, and tells him that they have found the Messiah, and that he hails from Nazareth. I love Nathanael’s response – “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” I like his response because of the brutal honesty of it. He didn’t care for Nazareth – most Jews of that day didn’t care for Nazareth – and he was more than willing to just come out and say so. Evidently, Jesus liked his honesty, too. When he sees Nathanael, he says, “Behold, and Israelite in whom there is no guile” – or “deceit,” depending on your translation. It was from this exchange between Jesus and Nathanael that I began to get the idea for the sermon focus this morning – Spiritual Transparency.

Evidently, God looks for people to serve Him who are willing to be honest about what they think and about who they are. According to Jesus, Nathanael was one of those people. You know, when the boys won their basketball game the other night, the coach was quoted as saying that they showed some “moxie.” Well, that’s what Nathanael did – he showed some “moxie.” He showed a little “spunk.” He looked the Son of God in the eye and said, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” I think in essence he was saying, “Jesus, I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself to me, but you’ve got to know that the only direction you can go, in my book, is up. I already don’t have a very good opinion of you.” Or something like that. He called it the way he saw it – with Almighty God – toe to toe, face to face.

When I mention Spiritual Transparency, that attitude starts to get at the kind or relationship I think God wants to have with us. Frankly, God can stand up to any scrutiny we offer. When we enter into relationship with God, God is going to come out looking pretty good. The question in this “give and take” relationship is this – how will we look?

God calls us to relationship, and in that relationship, God is looking for transparency. Transparency calls for a willingness to respond to God’s call, an honesty which understands our limitations, and a willingness to be honest, perhaps even when honesty isn’t popular or wise. We learn to practice transparency with God, and in doing so, we practice vulnerability in which Almighty God can enter into just as honest and transparent a relationship with us.

In other words, in terms of relationship, God is looking for the real thing – God is looking for genuine people. Do you know the etymology of the word genuine? It is ancient in origin. When people in ancient times would sell pottery, sometimes those pots would crack in the baking process. Less honest businessmen learned that by glazing over the cracks and then re-firing the pots, they could often disguise the imperfections, and thus complete the transaction. Wary consumers learned that if they would take the piece of pottery out into the sunlight, hold it up to the sunlight, and turn it around, often the sunlight would peek through the imperfections. In this way they could tell which pots were cracked, and which were genuine.

In the relationship we have with God, God sometimes figuratively takes us out into the sunlight, and looks for the cracks. The trouble is, we all have them – we’re all cracked and flawed. Let me ask us – since God is the Potter, and we are the clay, doesn’t it make more sense to enter into a relationship with God that is transparent at the core?
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Into What Were You Baptized?

1st Sunday after Epiphany

Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11


Epiphany is a season of beginnings. It is no surprise, then, to most of us that Epiphany coincides with the beginning of the new year, which for most of us is a time of new beginnings, of resolutions, of starting over, of new discoveries in our lives. The scriptures for the coming weeks help us in this quest. This year Epiphany will last 8 weeks, and the themes that come out of our study over the next 8 weeks can be more than revealing. These great themes are enlightening. These themes of the Christian life indicate to us something of the concepts God considers important for humanity to get a grasp on. My friend Keith Herron is beginning a series this morning under the heading, “Downloading the New Program.” I told him I liked that idea. Sister Tracy is preaching this morning from Genesis, and is pointing to the beginnings of time. So, let me take their two ideas, and create for us a perspective on Epiphany. Before Christ came, we were much like the universe before God created everything – we were lost in darkness. But the Light of the World has come into our dark world, and things have become exponentially more clear. That’s the way we can look at these great themes of the Christian faith, as we move through Epiphany. Epiphany turns on the light in our lives, and helps us to see what God wants for us.

This morning, we focus on baptism. You and I would describe “baptism” as a core belief – something central to our faith and practice. But there are some questions we might ask about baptism, and “being Baptist.” For example – It seems that there are a lot of different expressions of Baptists these days. When I am out in the community, and encounter opportunity to invite someone to attend our church, they invariably ask, “Where do you pastor?” I respond, “Cornerstone Baptist, right over there on S. Cleveland.” It’s at this point in the conversation that I begin to watch the “tell-tale” signs of exposure – some of them start physically backing away – they’ve had some bad experience with Baptists in the past, and they want no part of us – whoever we may be. In fact, I often find myself describing who we are by describing who we are not. Ultimately, if given enough time, I can usually describe us as a group of people who are more committed to the things we are “for” than the things we are “against,” and as a group of people who want to be known more for what we “hope” and “do” than what we “think” or “believe.”

In part, the entire Protestant Reformation resulted as a disagreement on the role of baptism in the lives of Christian people. Prior to the Anabaptist movement, Christianity had modulated into a common practice of infant baptism. Baptism was seen as a symbol that an individual had been united with “the church” and carried with it all the privileges of church membership, and hopefully, salvation. Anabaptists discounted this belief, pointing out that the New Testament example of baptism was believer’s baptism – competent, choosing people (juvenile or adult) made life changing, sometimes life-threatening decisions to follow Christ, and participate in a ritual cleansing by being immersed in water – symbolically indicating a union with Christ.

In 1995, I attended the Baptist World Congress in Buenos Aires, Argentina. At that meeting, I was astonished to learn that there were more than 350 different Baptist groups that were a part of the Baptist World Alliance. And I observed that perhaps the only thing that all of these Baptists agreed on was that baptism was central to the experience of a new believer in Christ.
Paul asked an interesting question to the Ephesians. He was trying to ascertain something about the depth of their faith experience, the instruction they had received, and whether the Holy Spirit had entered their lives as a result of their salvation experience. In verse 3, Paul says, “Into what then were you baptized?

That’s a great question. So many people are confused about baptism. And while I suspect that there is rather common consensus that baptism is integral to the beginning of our Christian experience, there is a wide variety of opinions as to what baptism means and symbolizes.

My own life has been something of a journey into discovery of the depth of meaning associated with baptism. I was baptized when I was nine years old. I suppose, when you look back on that experience, that there was a sense in which I thought I was being baptized into something like John’s baptism – a baptism of repentance. My salvation experience was an experience based on fear – fear that I would die, fear that I would go to Hell, fear that I was doing all the wrong things. I didn’t feel particularly alone in that – most of the children of the sixties were overdosed with a load of fear, and that fear manifested itself in any number of experiences. I tell people that when I was saved, that I was making a decision “not to go to hell” – that I was saved out of hell – and I suppose my baptism experience had many of the associated feelings and experiences. It was like I wanted to do anything to make sure that I would not spend one moment in hell.

That thought pattern existed for me until many years later. I think I came gradually to a different conceptualization of my childhood experience. Somewhere in my late teen years, or early adult years, I began to realize that baptism was much more the experience of obedience for me. I was saved, and the first thing that Jesus asked of people who had trusted Him for salvation was that they would be obedient to Him, and that meant baptism. And so, I entered into a prolonged period of my life where I acknowledged a direction for my life where obedience to Christ was focal – whether I was actually obedient or not, obedience was the goal.

There was a side trip on this pilgrimage which I encountered, but did not take. During the 70’s and 80’s, there was a huge movement in neo-Pentecostal, or “charismatic” churches. One of the teachings of this movement was that there was a baptism of the Holy Spirit, often described as a second baptism, which coincided with the presence of gifts of the Spirit in a believer’s life – usually initially centered around a gift of glossolalia, or speaking in tongues. The teaching insisted that only those who were “baptized in the Spirit” were truly saved, and that the first evidence of this baptism was the ability to speak in tongues. I rejected this teaching, noticing the biblical example that the vast majority of biblical examples linked conversion and baptism into a singular event, and the teaching of Paul further went on to say that all believers possessed the Holy Spirit, from the moment of their initial conversion.

While I did not accept this teaching, there was a point that the Charismatics made that was important – our salvation experience is the beginning of a relationship with Christ.

Sometime in the last 10 years, my baptism has taken on a new meaning for me – one of identity. In these last years, I have come to see identity as being the focus of baptism. In agreeing to a personal baptism experience, I chose to identify my life with the life of Christ. In some important way, that idea of identity brings with it more of a focus on relationship. That focus really does beg the question, “Into what was I baptized?”
So – into what were you baptized? It really is a great question. Were you baptized into a baptism of repentance – the baptism of John? Or were you baptized into a different baptism – one which might be called a baptism of obedience? Or was your baptism a baptism that found depth of relationship with Christ – one that might be described more as a baptism of the Holy Spirit?

Clayton Schmit calls his commentary on this passage this week “Spiritual Resolution.”
[1] He makes note that when Jesus chose to be baptized by John in the Jordan river, he was making a resolution of sorts. Epiphany coincides with a season of new beginnings. Many of us have been making resolutions over the past couple of weeks – to lose weight, or clean the house, or get a new car, or begin a relationship - to change a habit, to add a discipline to our lives – there’s not a thing wrong with making resolutions – Christianity is a faith choice that emphasizes starting over – sometimes again and again.

You may need to make some sort of spiritual resolution today. That spiritual resolution may surround your baptism. Some of you have never followed Christ in baptism. If Christ deemed baptism important enough to participate personally, shouldn’t we? Some of you are dealing with the need for greater devotion to Christ. Could this be the opportunity for you to make a spiritual resolution? Let us not be like the one who said:

Procrastination is my sin,
It brings me pain and sorrow.
I know that I should stop it,
In fact I will – tomorrow.
[2]

The Light of the World shines on us today. Won’t you respond in faith?
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Clayton Schmit, Spiritual Resolution, Pulpit Resource, vol 34, No. 1, p.9.
[2] Ibid, p.11.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

In the Fullness of Time . . .


1st Sunday after Christmas

Galatians 4:4-7; Luke 2:22-40

As I read this story of Simeon, and the story of Anna, the prophetess, this week, something occurred to me that I had not thought of before. You may have seen it – before this week, I had not. These were two minor characters in the drama of the birth of Christ. At least, you and I would relegate them to having had minor roles. And yet, for them - for their lives - their purpose in announcing the birth of Christ was anything but minor. These two blessed saints of God had waited their entire lives for this single purpose – to announce – to confirm the arrival of the Christ. Their voices were not loud. These were two older adults – you know, the type of people that our society so casually discards – people who knew something that was true – something that would be true. But our world is not always interested in knowing what is and will be true.
We sang the song for weeks.

Oh come, Oh come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lowly exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.

Oh, come, blest Dayspring,
Come and cheer our spirits
By your advent here.
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel
.

And now, for us, Christmas is come and gone. So much anticipation, now drowned in fleeting memories and a good house cleaning.

The Galatians text this morning says, “In the fullness of time . . .” “But when the fullness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, in order that He might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’ Therefore you are no longer a slave, but a son’ and if a son, then an heir through God.”
That first phrase at the beginning speaks of time. For the Greeks, there were two ways to measure time. You and I know the word “chronological” – speaking of sequence. This is one of the ways they spoke of time – for them, the word chronos. This is the way so many of us recount our days to each other – we speak of sequence. We say, “Well, I got up at 6:30, and then I took my shower, and I ate breakfast, and then I went to work. Stopped for lunch, and then back to work. Then I ate dinner, sat back and watched some television and read the paper, and then went to bed.” Chronology. For most of us, our consideration of time has too much of a chronological perspective. We find our lives restless and seemingly unfulfilled. No wonder - we recount the days, as though that was the function of life itself – simply marking time through life.

But the Greeks had a second way of recognizing time. They used the word kairos – speaking of a ripening, or a rightness of time. “When the time was right . . .” This is the usage in the Galatians passage this morning – “in the fullness of time.” When time was ripe . . .” Not enough of our consideration of time takes this kairos approach – that we consider the fullness of the time – the ripeness of the time – the rightness of the time.

To be sure, there are instances when these two considerations of time recognition find themselves joining forces. According to the purposes and considerations of Almighty God, Mary’s delivery of Jesus was just such an occurrence. I see both ideas in the 2nd chapter of Luke, when he says, “And it came about that while they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth.” Chronos and kairos – her time was completed, and that coincided uniquely and perfectly with God’s time, in terms of all of eternity, for the birth of Christ.

It is strange to me – the way that God puts people together. May I confess something to you? I need to share with you something of a recent pilgrimage I have been on. For so many years, I prayed that God would allow me to pastor a church. As the saying goes, “Be careful what you pray for” – I now suspect that God took me rather literally at my request – I suspect that you will be the only church that I will ever pastor. There was a time when that prospect concerned and bothered me – but over the last two or three years, I have not only grown comfortable with the idea – I rather appreciate and relish it – and I suspect I will retire from here 20 years from now.
Several months ago, as a by-product of dealing with the passing of my Dad, I went to see a counselor here in town. There aren’t a lot of people I can talk to about the deeper concerns of my life, and so, over the years, I have periodically spoken with this same counselor about where I am in life – kairos kind of things.

Just two weeks ago, I had something of an epiphany in our sessions. He helped me see an internal restlessness that I am struggling with. We also explored an associated caution – that my restlessness not be forced on you as a congregation.

Well, I’ve been pondering and praying about that, and I understand that I definitely have a personal restlessness. But, at the same time, I have a calling to pastor this congregation, and that has not wavered. What I am exploring in my mind, and I would ask you as a congregation to explore in your collective mind, is this question – is there a ripeness – a rightness – to our time as a congregation? Let me explain a little more.

I will always be convinced that God has put us together. There was a rightness of time to the beginning of our congregation. Enid needed this congregation. Our city needed and still needs an expression of the body of Christ which loves God, serves God, and at the same time allows people to come to Christ and follow Christ according to the dictates of their individual consciences. Over the years, we have seen a defining of our purpose – we have come to know who we are – without reservation or hesitation. There has been a minimal amount of the occasional purging. And over the last couple of years, there has been a refreshing and a maturing of our membership. Quite frankly, God has been in the process of bringing new thoughts and energy and personnel into our already established congregation. We have learned, even as we continue to learn, to trust each other. We have learned, even as we continue to learn, to value one another. And we have learned, even as we continue to learn, to count on one another.

And so, I think we are at a kairos moment in our pilgrimage. I think the Holy Spirit has prepared us for this moment – for a “time such as this” – to borrow a phrase.

My problem is this – I’m not sure specifically what we have been prepared for. That may seem to you to be a strange thing to confess. You may see what we already do as being the thing we were created for. Or you may think that “if the pastor doesn’t know, who could possibly know.” I’m well beyond those questions – I’ve moved on to the discovery phase in my own mind, and I’m willing to confess any personal inadequacies in order to get us ready to be used of God in a profound way.

Regardless of what I do not know, I do have some convictions. Whatever God has in mind for us will be “current” in application and involvement, while “eternal” in consequence and implication. That’s the first thing – God has something for us to do – “now” – that is going to bear eternal ramifications. I think that we are at a kairos moment in our pilgrimage with one another – we need not wait for anything else to happen - the fullness of time has arrived. There is an immediacy to our purpose and our examination of God’s calling on our collective lives. And then, as a result of what we are to do at this point in time, there will be eternal implications – what we do now will matter for all of eternity. I am convinced of that.

The second conviction I have is this – whatever God has for us will be “individual” in its application, while being “exponential” in its consequence. Every person who is a part of the ministry that exists through this congregation will be integral in what God is calling us to do. Every person. God puts people within the body of Christ as God desires – I am convinced of that, and I know that you are convinced of that. We are not consumers of religion – we are called people of God on mission to serve God, and a part of that calling has brought us into each other’s company for the purposes of serving God collectively.

Mike Kear posted something on one of his blogs this week that caught my attention. He
quoted Christianity Today in an article where they reviewed a book by pollster George Barna, who has been observing a trend in current religious practice. They said, “Barna expects to see believers "choosing from a proliferation of options, weaving together a set of favored alternatives into a unique tapestry that constitutes the personal 'church' of the individual." The phrase "personal 'church' of the individual" must be the most mind-spinning phrase ever written about the church of Jesus Christ. Could it be that we evangelical Protestants, who have done more to fragment Christendom than any other group, are now taking that to the logical extreme: a church at the individual level, each person creating a personal "church" experience? At any other point in church history, "personal church" would be nonsensical. In today's America, it's the Next Big Thing.”[1] In other words, there is a growing segment of Christianity where the individual is the focus to the point of creating an “individual” Christianity. You and I would reject that notion and that practice, making note of the fact that Christ formed His church, and God places the members of the body, each one of them, as God desires. You and I understand that there is a purpose larger than ourselves in serving God, and church affords us the best opportunity to fulfill that purpose.

I said that the second conviction I have is this – whatever God has for us will be “individual” in its application, while being “exponential” in its consequence. I had something of an epiphany this week. I noticed that some of the work that you and I have done over the past 7½ years has outgrown us. Some of the work we have done has taken wings, and we couldn’t tether it if we tried. I’m not sure we can even channel this exponential growth of our work – although I’m not sure why we’d want to. That’s the way it will be with what God has for us now in this kairos moment of our pilgrimage. We will do things now that will bear eternal ramifications. Like Simeon and Anna, we may live to see all that God does with what we do in the near future, but as the saying goes, “tain’t likely.”

Well, there you have it. This last week, my mind has been occupied by contrasting images – I have posted one of them on the back window this morning. It is a picture of a woman who is near the end of her life – most of what she has known has now passed her by, and she is simply waiting – most likely waiting to die. That image has been contrasted with the pictures I have seen in the Enid paper this week of the nominees for the “Pillar of the Plains” award. I know each of these nominees rather well, and they are superbly qualified, each one of them, to have been nominated.

Those are the images that have surrounded my mind this week – and none of those images vaguely compares to the image of what God is calling us to in this kairos moment. This is our moment – the fullness of time – for us.