August 11, 2013
Lit Lamps and Fastened Belts
By The Rev. Drew Stockstill
Morningside Presbyterian Church, Atlanta
Lit Lamps and Fastend Belts
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 & Luke 12:35-40
Morningside Presbyterian Church
The Rev. Drew Stockstill
August 11, 2013
Lit Lamps and Fastend Belts
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 & Luke 12:35-40
Morningside Presbyterian Church
The Rev. Drew Stockstill
August 11, 2013
“Do not be afraid little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” That is some blessed assurance. The journey Jesus and his disciples are on has gotten pretty tense by this part of Luke’s gospel. Jesus’ conflicts with religious authorities have gotten more heated. Jesus’ teaching about what it means to follow him have gotten more radical in their demands to share wealth with others, care for the poor, and likely endure arrest and persecution for confessing Jesus as the Christ. It is becoming clear at this point in Luke’s gospel, for the disciples and us, that following Jesus is no passive event, no casual Sunday drive, no paint by colors, no cake walk, no cliché.
While we honor greatly decency and order in our tradition, following Jesus reframes what decency and order looks like, and friends, it’s not boring. Human decency appears key; the order of grace and compassion, the order of God’s justice, emerges out of the disorder and chaos of sin. Jesus is bringing the decency and order of God’s Kingdom to earth to exist where human decency and order have made a mockery of God’s creation. Oh, but don’t worry little flock, it is God’s desire to give you this Kingdom. Already, God has invited us into God’s house – the world – to be present with our loved ones and participate in God’s work of restoring love and justice.
Jesus’ hope for his disciples is that we realize he has already brought the Kingdom of God into our world. We have been invited to enter this kingdom that Christ has established on earth. It’s not just something far off that we hope for after we die. It’s real and it’s here and it’s now. That is why we pray to God in the Lord’s Prayer, “your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” We pray this prayer and we work towards its truth as we wait for and long for Christ to return. But this is a lofty image. What comes to mind for you when you hear this phrase: Kingdom of God? Is it mansions? Streets of gold? I don’t think those are helpful or realistic images for the Kingdom of God on earth. I think the Kingdom of God is finding or creating those places where true justice exists, where differences no longer divide us but are celebrated and unite us, where joy and peace are present, where both the oppressed and the oppressors are freed from their captivity to sin and old patterns. Living in the Kingdom of God here and now is working towards making earth look a little bit more like God’s vision for it, where, as God said in Isaiah, we cease to do evil and learn to do good and seek justice. Loosed from the bonds of materialism we are free to seek this reality, but in doing so I think we also become even more aware of how much we need Christ’s return to make this a reality. We allow our hearts to be broken by what breaks God’s heart, we sit with those in grief and journey with them through the shadow of death and we long for Christ to come and make us whole. And we “work well for that which we wait,” as the late Rev. Peter Gomes said.
This passage in Luke strikes me as a very Advent worthy text. Advent is the season before Christmas where we take time to remember that we are truly waiting for Christ’s return. We call out in song, “Oh Come, Oh come Emmanuel,” and we think about a little baby. But what we are really calling for is Christ’s promised return to fully bring about this community of justice. We’ve been waiting for a really long time. I think we’ve been waiting for longer than anyone in Jesus’ time thought we’d wait. In this passage this too is what Jesus is telling us not to be afraid about but to be prepared for the delay and be ready nonetheless. He gives the disciples two images to use to think about the advent of Christ. The first is the image of a homeowner who has gone to a wedding leaving his house in the care of his employees. The second is the image of a homeowner who is trying to keep his house safe from a thief. In the first metaphor, Christ is the homeowner and we are his servants, left to care for the house while he is gone. We’re house-sitters.
Ellen and I have been doing a good bit of house-sitting this summer and we’ve really enjoyed it. Our housemates are beginning to think we aren’t coming back. I’m pretty sure one of them annexed our room. A few weeks ago we were about to move into another house for two weeks while the family was on vacation. This was not a Morningside member but some of you might know them so I’m just going to call the homeowner Doug. The day we were moving into Doug’s family’s home, Ellen packed up the car and our little beagle and headed over to get settled and I was going to come after work. With a bag over her shoulder and a suitcase in-tow, Ellen unlocked the front door, rolled her bag into the foyer, dropped her duffel, and then froze – the attic door was open and the stairs unfolded. She turned slowly to her left and noticed, in horror, packed suitcases by the door. She then looked up and saw the bathroom door close. The family was still there. They hadn’t left yet. Now, in that moment Ellen had a few options. She could have called out, “Hey, I’m here early. Sorry, I’ll be back later,” or “Hey, this is a home invasion, everyone on the floor,” or she could have just gone to the kitchen, made herself a sandwich, grabbed a Caprisun and then sat in front of the TV until someone noticed. Instead Ellen slowly stepped backwards, picked up her duffel, quietly closed and locked the front door and then hauled tail down the driveway. In that case we were just a little too eager to take charge of the house. The funny thing is that Ellen, realizing she had to time to kill, went to get some gas in the car. As she was fueling up, Doug pulls in behind her and she’s wondering if he saw her flying out of his drive or if he’ll noticed the completely packed car and dog in the front seat. He doesn’t seem to notice.
What I have realized this summer, moving into people’s homes while they are gone, is that there is a tremendous amount of vulnerability and trust involved. You are in some ways opening your life up, the place where you find security, comfort, and intimacy with your loved ones. You are trusting that the person staying there will care for and respect your things, treat your pets with the same sensitivity and care you do.
This is what the homeowner in the parable does with his employees. They are looking after the place, not sure at what time he’ll return, and even though it is now very, very late in the night they are to have the lights on, the lamps lit, not the passive, sleepy Tom Bodett with Motel 6, “We’ll leave the lights on for you,” style but, awake, alert, ready to open the door when he knocks, to joyfully welcome him home into the place he has entrusted into their care. Jesus tells his disciples that this is what it will be like when he leaves us here on earth. It is God’s desire that we make ourselves at home in the home God has prepared. But this home is not ours, it’s God’s. God has spent a great amount of care over billions of years creating and cultivating this garden, expanding the heavens before our eyes, and God has shown great vulnerability in inviting us in, great trust in asking us to care for and nurture that which is God’s most prized possession: the earth and all that is in it. Jesus came and showed us how to live in this place. Now Christ has been gone for a long time but he is returning and we suppose to be ready, dressed for action with the lights on. Christ’s excited to get back. The promise in the parable is that the master becomes servant upon his return, fastening his belt and fixing a big supper for the servants, just the way Jesus did in the gospel. But I’m afraid that we have made a huge mistake. In our anxiety and fear, in our endless quest for more wealth and power, in our deep divisions between class, race, gender, and religions, in our exploitation of the earth and its resources, we have moved into the home, declared ourselves owners, put our oil soaked shoes on the couch, and got busy exploiting God’s trust and vulnerability by wrecking God’s most prized possessions: the earth and all that is in it, humanity included. We’ve turned the people and the creatures and the plant life each into commodities to be used at our whim and for our pleasure. We’ve claimed the right to that which is not ours, and as in the second parable, we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking we’re the householder and therefore made Christ nothing more than a thief that must sneak into his own home as we work tirelessly to wall him out. We mistake prophets for intruders. But we pray still, and must continue to pray, “Your kingdom come and your will be done here on earth as it is in heaven,” and against our sinful inclinations we must work well for that which we wait.
I use to work for a Presbyterian group in Kenya that partnered with Kenyan congregations to help them work towards the goals they felt God calling them to. I remember one project where we were going to help a congregation that had been meeting in a mud hut build a sanctuary that would also be used as a nursery school during the week. Peter Kamau, one of the contractors, and I drove 5 hours from the city of Nairobi to the border of Tanzania right at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The view from the front door of that church was the entirety of that hulking mountain. It was an incredibly arid area that was in the deepest depths of a years long drought. The Maasai who lived in this area were themselves in the depths of suffering. Their cattle, the primary source of life for the tribe, were dying of starvation. The road was littered with the rotting corpses of cows. For this particular little Presbyterian community, their only source of water was a little stream that trickled down from the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro’s ice cap, but due to the global climate change, that is nearly gone. The mountain has lost 80% of its icecap over the last 100 years.
As we pulled up to the site to meet with some church elders, children rushed through the dust to the car – a common occurrence. They ask for candy and other treats. As we got out of the car I realized these kids were asking for something else, water. With huge smiles on their faces they were asking for sips of water. Kamau and I gave them our water bottles and they passed them around, savoring ever drop, and the ran off to play with the empty bottle. In moments like those I realize this house God has placed us in has been terribly misused and abused. In moments like those, I also see glimpses of God’s kingdom in the joy and the incredible hope of people, the leadership and vision of faithful church leaders, but I also see how much we need Christ to return, to heal this brokenness. In moments like those I realize that Christ’s command to sell our possessions and give to the poor is a source of anxiety for folks like us and a source of hope for our brothers and sisters who have few possessions to sell but have an abundance of treasure in God’s hands and so their hearts shine with the promise of the gospel. “Be dressed for action, have your lamps lit,” Jesus says, and remember, always remember, it is God’s desire to give you the kingdom. Remembering this promise you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hours.
Lit Lamps and Fastend Belts
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 & Luke 12:35-40
Morningside Presbyterian Church
The Rev. Drew Stockstill
August 11, 2013
Lit Lamps and Fastend Belts
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 & Luke 12:35-40
Morningside Presbyterian Church
The Rev. Drew Stockstill
August 11, 2013
“Do not be afraid little flock, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” That is some blessed assurance. The journey Jesus and his disciples are on has gotten pretty tense by this part of Luke’s gospel. Jesus’ conflicts with religious authorities have gotten more heated. Jesus’ teaching about what it means to follow him have gotten more radical in their demands to share wealth with others, care for the poor, and likely endure arrest and persecution for confessing Jesus as the Christ. It is becoming clear at this point in Luke’s gospel, for the disciples and us, that following Jesus is no passive event, no casual Sunday drive, no paint by colors, no cake walk, no cliché.
While we honor greatly decency and order in our tradition, following Jesus reframes what decency and order looks like, and friends, it’s not boring. Human decency appears key; the order of grace and compassion, the order of God’s justice, emerges out of the disorder and chaos of sin. Jesus is bringing the decency and order of God’s Kingdom to earth to exist where human decency and order have made a mockery of God’s creation. Oh, but don’t worry little flock, it is God’s desire to give you this Kingdom. Already, God has invited us into God’s house – the world – to be present with our loved ones and participate in God’s work of restoring love and justice.
Jesus’ hope for his disciples is that we realize he has already brought the Kingdom of God into our world. We have been invited to enter this kingdom that Christ has established on earth. It’s not just something far off that we hope for after we die. It’s real and it’s here and it’s now. That is why we pray to God in the Lord’s Prayer, “your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” We pray this prayer and we work towards its truth as we wait for and long for Christ to return. But this is a lofty image. What comes to mind for you when you hear this phrase: Kingdom of God? Is it mansions? Streets of gold? I don’t think those are helpful or realistic images for the Kingdom of God on earth. I think the Kingdom of God is finding or creating those places where true justice exists, where differences no longer divide us but are celebrated and unite us, where joy and peace are present, where both the oppressed and the oppressors are freed from their captivity to sin and old patterns. Living in the Kingdom of God here and now is working towards making earth look a little bit more like God’s vision for it, where, as God said in Isaiah, we cease to do evil and learn to do good and seek justice. Loosed from the bonds of materialism we are free to seek this reality, but in doing so I think we also become even more aware of how much we need Christ’s return to make this a reality. We allow our hearts to be broken by what breaks God’s heart, we sit with those in grief and journey with them through the shadow of death and we long for Christ to come and make us whole. And we “work well for that which we wait,” as the late Rev. Peter Gomes said.
This passage in Luke strikes me as a very Advent worthy text. Advent is the season before Christmas where we take time to remember that we are truly waiting for Christ’s return. We call out in song, “Oh Come, Oh come Emmanuel,” and we think about a little baby. But what we are really calling for is Christ’s promised return to fully bring about this community of justice. We’ve been waiting for a really long time. I think we’ve been waiting for longer than anyone in Jesus’ time thought we’d wait. In this passage this too is what Jesus is telling us not to be afraid about but to be prepared for the delay and be ready nonetheless. He gives the disciples two images to use to think about the advent of Christ. The first is the image of a homeowner who has gone to a wedding leaving his house in the care of his employees. The second is the image of a homeowner who is trying to keep his house safe from a thief. In the first metaphor, Christ is the homeowner and we are his servants, left to care for the house while he is gone. We’re house-sitters.
Ellen and I have been doing a good bit of house-sitting this summer and we’ve really enjoyed it. Our housemates are beginning to think we aren’t coming back. I’m pretty sure one of them annexed our room. A few weeks ago we were about to move into another house for two weeks while the family was on vacation. This was not a Morningside member but some of you might know them so I’m just going to call the homeowner Doug. The day we were moving into Doug’s family’s home, Ellen packed up the car and our little beagle and headed over to get settled and I was going to come after work. With a bag over her shoulder and a suitcase in-tow, Ellen unlocked the front door, rolled her bag into the foyer, dropped her duffel, and then froze – the attic door was open and the stairs unfolded. She turned slowly to her left and noticed, in horror, packed suitcases by the door. She then looked up and saw the bathroom door close. The family was still there. They hadn’t left yet. Now, in that moment Ellen had a few options. She could have called out, “Hey, I’m here early. Sorry, I’ll be back later,” or “Hey, this is a home invasion, everyone on the floor,” or she could have just gone to the kitchen, made herself a sandwich, grabbed a Caprisun and then sat in front of the TV until someone noticed. Instead Ellen slowly stepped backwards, picked up her duffel, quietly closed and locked the front door and then hauled tail down the driveway. In that case we were just a little too eager to take charge of the house. The funny thing is that Ellen, realizing she had to time to kill, went to get some gas in the car. As she was fueling up, Doug pulls in behind her and she’s wondering if he saw her flying out of his drive or if he’ll noticed the completely packed car and dog in the front seat. He doesn’t seem to notice.
What I have realized this summer, moving into people’s homes while they are gone, is that there is a tremendous amount of vulnerability and trust involved. You are in some ways opening your life up, the place where you find security, comfort, and intimacy with your loved ones. You are trusting that the person staying there will care for and respect your things, treat your pets with the same sensitivity and care you do.
This is what the homeowner in the parable does with his employees. They are looking after the place, not sure at what time he’ll return, and even though it is now very, very late in the night they are to have the lights on, the lamps lit, not the passive, sleepy Tom Bodett with Motel 6, “We’ll leave the lights on for you,” style but, awake, alert, ready to open the door when he knocks, to joyfully welcome him home into the place he has entrusted into their care. Jesus tells his disciples that this is what it will be like when he leaves us here on earth. It is God’s desire that we make ourselves at home in the home God has prepared. But this home is not ours, it’s God’s. God has spent a great amount of care over billions of years creating and cultivating this garden, expanding the heavens before our eyes, and God has shown great vulnerability in inviting us in, great trust in asking us to care for and nurture that which is God’s most prized possession: the earth and all that is in it. Jesus came and showed us how to live in this place. Now Christ has been gone for a long time but he is returning and we suppose to be ready, dressed for action with the lights on. Christ’s excited to get back. The promise in the parable is that the master becomes servant upon his return, fastening his belt and fixing a big supper for the servants, just the way Jesus did in the gospel. But I’m afraid that we have made a huge mistake. In our anxiety and fear, in our endless quest for more wealth and power, in our deep divisions between class, race, gender, and religions, in our exploitation of the earth and its resources, we have moved into the home, declared ourselves owners, put our oil soaked shoes on the couch, and got busy exploiting God’s trust and vulnerability by wrecking God’s most prized possessions: the earth and all that is in it, humanity included. We’ve turned the people and the creatures and the plant life each into commodities to be used at our whim and for our pleasure. We’ve claimed the right to that which is not ours, and as in the second parable, we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking we’re the householder and therefore made Christ nothing more than a thief that must sneak into his own home as we work tirelessly to wall him out. We mistake prophets for intruders. But we pray still, and must continue to pray, “Your kingdom come and your will be done here on earth as it is in heaven,” and against our sinful inclinations we must work well for that which we wait.
I use to work for a Presbyterian group in Kenya that partnered with Kenyan congregations to help them work towards the goals they felt God calling them to. I remember one project where we were going to help a congregation that had been meeting in a mud hut build a sanctuary that would also be used as a nursery school during the week. Peter Kamau, one of the contractors, and I drove 5 hours from the city of Nairobi to the border of Tanzania right at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The view from the front door of that church was the entirety of that hulking mountain. It was an incredibly arid area that was in the deepest depths of a years long drought. The Maasai who lived in this area were themselves in the depths of suffering. Their cattle, the primary source of life for the tribe, were dying of starvation. The road was littered with the rotting corpses of cows. For this particular little Presbyterian community, their only source of water was a little stream that trickled down from the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro’s ice cap, but due to the global climate change, that is nearly gone. The mountain has lost 80% of its icecap over the last 100 years.
As we pulled up to the site to meet with some church elders, children rushed through the dust to the car – a common occurrence. They ask for candy and other treats. As we got out of the car I realized these kids were asking for something else, water. With huge smiles on their faces they were asking for sips of water. Kamau and I gave them our water bottles and they passed them around, savoring ever drop, and the ran off to play with the empty bottle. In moments like those I realize this house God has placed us in has been terribly misused and abused. In moments like those, I also see glimpses of God’s kingdom in the joy and the incredible hope of people, the leadership and vision of faithful church leaders, but I also see how much we need Christ to return, to heal this brokenness. In moments like those I realize that Christ’s command to sell our possessions and give to the poor is a source of anxiety for folks like us and a source of hope for our brothers and sisters who have few possessions to sell but have an abundance of treasure in God’s hands and so their hearts shine with the promise of the gospel. “Be dressed for action, have your lamps lit,” Jesus says, and remember, always remember, it is God’s desire to give you the kingdom. Remembering this promise you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hours.
