… that You are mindful of him

18th Sunday after Pentecost

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

I don’t think that in a sermon that I have told you much about the time I spend in Texas during the fall. People ask me all the time why I travel all the way down there to hunt, when the game is so much larger here. Truth of the matter is that I love the Texas Hill Country – the vastness of it all, the ruggedness, the unpredictability of the weather, the beauty of the night skies, and the solitude of living in my camper for a week at a time. It is relaxing and restful, and strangely at the same time quite invigorating and motivating.

I’ll mention three things about this place that thrills my soul. It is, of course, the Texas Hill Country. We travel ranch roads to get from our camp ground to the part of the pasture where we hunt. One particular place on the main ranch road my brother nicknamed “the telephone booth” – because at that particular place on the lease, we get a good phone signal. I stop there several times a day to make and return phone calls, and from that particular vantage point, you can see – oh, I really never have stopped to count how many hill tops you can see from right there. It is, in a word, spectacular. I love those hills.

Of course, where there are hills, there are also valleys. We moved our campground this year, and I’m still adjusting to the move. We had camped for the last 15 years on the creek – North Morgan creek, to be exact. It was an idyllic setting – meandering creek, surrounded by hills rising on each side of you, and huge oak and sycamore trees shading our campground. But a year ago this past August, we had a flood. Our land owner told us we were lucky – that this was only the “50 year flood.” My little camper floated down the creek about 75 yards, and our camp was rather devastated. So, this last spring, Barney, our land owner, made us move up the hill. We traded the valley for the hillside, and our new home possesses a spectacular view of Lake Buchanan. We don’t have near the number of trees, but we have a better breeze most of the day, and we have to open one less gate on our trip up the hill.

Maybe more than in some other places I know, water is important in the Hill Country. From my experience, they either have way too little of it, or much too much of it. Water is a precious resource, and occasionally a dangerous commodity. The pasture is either wet and muddy, or dry and dusty – I have rarely seen it in between. Water in camp is important. As the men on this lease have gotten older and lazier, and since the flood, we have each secured travel campers that have a few more luxuries – like air conditioning and showers. But we don’t have water access in our camp – at least not yet – and so we have to haul our water in from somewhere else. Getting water for camp is something of a daily chore.

One more thing about this little retreat setting. Our camp is far enough away from the city lights that we have spectacular night skies. This last week we had a growing full moon for the week. The early evenings were illuminated by a beautiful moon. But sometime early in the morning, as we would awake to begin the morning hunt, we were blessed with an incredible night sky. During this time of the year, early in the morning, the constellation Orion, the hunter, is starting to set in the western sky. It gave me pause to consider the millions of men over the centuries who have risen early in the morning to go hunt for game, and looked into that same sky to see that fantastic sight.

The epistle for today comes from the book of Hebrews. We don’t know who wrote Hebrews – scholars are divided on the subject – some think Paul, others the young evangelist, Apollos. I personally tend toward the latter opinion. At least a part of the purpose of this letter to Christians is to describe in rather majestic detail the glory of Christ – how in every way, Jesus was a more excellent example – of nearly anything you might consider. Beginning in that second verse – “but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. When he had made purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.” Listening to those verses, you realize right away that we are speaking of someone special – really more than special – someone unique, in every respect.

My personal spiritual pilgrimage over the last six months or so has led me to consider Jesus – who He is, who He is not, what He purposed in His life, what He desired to accomplish, how He lived, how He died, what He wants for you and me today. Those kinds of questions. I have refused to accept the “Sunday School” answers – choosing instead to consider Christ from a variety of angles – biblical, personal, spiritual, human, socially and ecumenically. Here’s what I’ve come up with – Jesus Christ was someone special. He was unique – one of a kind. He was the only person to ever live who was both divine and human at the same time – one of a kind – fully divine, fully human. Words to adequately describe Jesus fail us – we are at a loss for appropriate metaphors.

There is a contemporary theology which suggests that we err when we consider anything other than God and Christ in our “theological” deliberations. The proponents of this theology suggest that all of existence and thought is really about God, and any consideration of those things which God has created beyond the simple idea that God has created them is troublesome and useless. In other words, when asked the question “What is the meaning of life?” they respond with the answer, “God.” That certainly is the easy answer to some of life’s most complicated questions. The trouble with that kind of thinking is that God thought enough about us to create us, to sustain us, and eventually to redeem us. It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that doesn’t matter!!

Why that little tirade? Well, the writer of Hebrews changes course in mid stream, and quotes from Psalm 8. You heard the choir do one of our favorite pieces this morning, Majesty and Glory. We love that song – it lifts us, and we rarely sing it without someone in the choir shedding a tear or two. By the way, if you have trouble remembering where certain things are in the scriptures, don’t be troubled – the writer of Hebrews did the same thing, right there in verse 6 – when he said, “But someone has testified somewhere . . .”

This is where my title came from this morning – “ . . . that You are mindful of him.” The psalmist was overwhelmed with the majesty and glory of God, and asked the pointed question, “What is man – in comparison to God, and all that God has created – what is man?”

I felt a little of that question this week, sitting on top of that hill in Texas. Looking up at the moon, and the stars, and viewing the hills and the valleys, and that beautiful lake. “God, just what is man, in comparison to all of this. We seem pretty puny, in my opinion. We think we’re worth more – of some real value – but still we seem mighty puny.” That’s kind of what I was thinking and feeling.

The writer of Hebrews elaborates on a quote from David the psalmist. “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, or mortals, that you care for them? You have made them for a little while lower than the angels; you have crowned them with glory and honor, subjecting all things under their feet.” These writers give us something for our contemporary theologies to consider – God, in God’s infinite wisdom, has created mankind, and even though for a little while mankind is lower in status than the angels, God has placed mankind in charge of all that has been created – well, sort of – at least things on the earth. We’re starting to expand our control out into the rest of the universe, but we’re a little slow on the uptake. Considering the majesty and glory of God, what business does God have contemplating, considering, pondering mankind? It is a good question.

We have heard from a lot of people this morning. We have heard from Job, who really is everyman. Job, the righteous one, experienced suffering, and asked some of life’s most pointed questions. We have heard from the psalmist, who proclaims his personal integrity and trustworthiness, claiming that he does not “sit with the worthless” or “consort with hypocrites.” We have heard from the gospel writer, Mark, who reminds us that children are the best of the best among us, and that truly we come into the kingdom only as a child – there is no other way to make it.

I’ve talked for a while – now I’m going to try to say something. Not every question that you and I have about God and life and anything else gets answered adequately every time we ask them. I love the mix of these scriptures – they ask the questions, but they don’t necessarily answer them for us. In doing so, they rather compel us to examine our role in the relationship we have with God. They ask the questions we need to ask, and point out to us that every once in a while, it is enough simply to be asking the right questions.

I’m in the first throws of building a sermon in which I ask the question, “Are you more religious, or spiritual.” In that sermon, I intend to talk about the relational aspect of faith. Well, this morning, I speak of that relational aspect of our faith. This Jesus, this Christ – the One Whom God has highly exalted – is the same One Who is “bringing many children to glory” – to quote the writer of Hebrews again. We ask the question about our worth, in comparison to God. But while we ask that question, my dear friends, consider that God is still about the business of asking questions about us, and to us, and God is still about the business of entering into relationship with us – even in our puniness – and that God has taken it upon God’s self to “consider us.”

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.