Christ's Promising Word

Fifth Sunday in Lent
March 21, 2010
Lavish Love
John 12:1-8

Two Economies: God

Two Economies

There are two economies. There is the economy of God and there is the economy of us humans.

The economy of God is lavish and loving. The economy of us humans is stingy and self-serving. God gives us everything we have. Everything. 100%. And yet, even in the church, the average person gives back less than 2% to God.

We Give God the Leftovers

I was talking to some kids about Palm Sunday and how Jesus entered Jerusalem to eat the Passover meal with his disciples. He went there because the temple was there and that was the only place where the lambs for Passover could be sacrificed and slaughtered. And one of the kids said to me in shock and horror, “They sacrificed animals?”

Oh yes, they did. Most ancient people did. Meat was so rare and precious that slaughtering any animal for food was a great “sacrifice” and usually saved only for festive meals. And so they all sacrificed animals: the Greeks, the Romans & the Jews.

The ha-ha joke among the Greeks and Romans, however, was that their gods were given the parts that no one wanted anyhow—a chuck of fat and a few big bones. All the good meat they kept for themselves. Which is why the Greeks and Romans had such a hard time understanding the Jews.

For certain sacrifices, the Jews would burn the entire animal. A “holocaust” they called it. “What a waste of good meat!” the Greeks and Romans thought.

And isn’t that so typical? We give God the leftovers. We give God the parts we don’t want anyhow. The loose change in our pockets. The clothes we have outgrown. The rummage sale stuff that we give away to clear the clutter. The good stuff we keep for ourselves.

Love is a Spendthrift, not a Miser

Mary did not keep the good stuff for herself. When Jesus came to dinner, Mary took 12 ounces of expensive perfume made of pure nard and she anointed Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her own hair.

Since the streets where people walked were little more than open sewers, and since reclining guests would often have their noses next to the feet of those near them, it was customary, of course, to have a slave wash the feet of a guest before a meal.

But, for the hostess herself to do it was unheard of. And for an Israelite woman to unbind her hair in public, especially at a formal meal was unheard of. And for expensive perfume to be used on the feet rather than the head was unheard of. Three hundred denarii—that’s one year’s worth of wages to a person like you and me. How much do you earn in a year? That’s what Mary poured out in this one gesture. Why? Because she loved him.

And love is not a tightwad. Love is not a cheapskate. Love is not a miser. Love is a spendthrift. Love spends itself away. Love does not count the cost. Love does not hold back. It gives itself away. Freely! Lavishly! Carelessly, and yet, so care-full-ly.

God Is Love

And where did Mary learn a love like that! Where else but in the Savior’s love for her. At his feet, listening to what he was saying, that’s where she learned it—the one thing needful.

God is love. That’s what she learned from Jesus. God is love. And when you are in love, you do not stop to count the cost. You give the best of everything you have.

“In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.” “No one has greater love than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

God did not give to us the scraps, the bits of fat and bone that had been picked over, the junk that no one really wanted, the leftovers and the trash. God gave to us his best. His very best. The meat. The heart. The entire substance of his portfolio.

God gave to us his Son. Totally. Wholely. And completely. A “holocaust.” A total sacrifice.

And so, it is no waste when we give our best to Jesus. It is not waste. It is worship. It is adoration. It is a precious gift. An offering. It is a sacrifice eagerly made for the sake of the beloved. It is love.

The Bible’s Good News about Living a Generous Life

This past week Fred Rice, Jeff Lyons and I went to join others for gathering with our bishop in order to hear a man who has written a book on Giving to God: The Bible’s Good New about Living a Generous Life.

His name is Mark Allan Powell, popular prof at Trinity Seminary in Columbus. He is a great guy and a great speaker. And Mark had three foundational points for us.

Point One: Giving to God is an “act of worship.” We give out of glad and generous hearts and an expression of love and devotion to the very God who has been so good and generous to us.

Point Two: Giving to God is an “expression of our faith.” Through it we confess that everything we have belongs to God and that God is the one who will sustain us and provide.

Point three: Giving to God is a “discipline for growth,” spiritual and personal growth. God loves a cheerful giver. Attitude counts. No one can serve two masters. One cannot serve God and mammon, money. Where our heart is, there our treasure will be also. And we want to treasure Jesus.

“I don’t care; Get the best”

I once got a frantic call from my wife, Laurie. A very frantic call from Laurie.

She was out-of-town in Indianapolis. And she wanted me to get online to buy two tickets for a rock concert that went on sale that very morning. She did not have a laptop with her so she called me. Thank God, for husbands. They are handy sometimes.

“How much do you want to spend?” I asked her. “I don’t care,” she said, “they are for our daughter. Get the best seats you can at any price.”

If the cross of Jesus tells us anything at all, it is that God is love. And love is a spendthrift. It does not hold anything back, but gives itself away. Totally and completely. Freely and lavishly.

Lavish love. That’s what the economy of God is all about.

© 2010 Pastor Paul Jaster

Fourth Sunday in Lent
March 14, 2010
Where is Jesus in this Picture?
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

A Man Had Two Sons

Today we hear again the most powerful and potent parable that Jesus ever told. But let me ask you this. Where is Jesus in this picture? I see you and I see me. I see God. But where is Jesus? Where is Jesus in this parable?

The story is a familiar one: “There was a man who had two sons.” And we are either one or the other, you and me, the younger son or the older son. Although I suppose, at times, we could be both.

The younger son came to his father and said, “Dad, I am grown up now. I want to do things on my own. Give me my inheritance. Do it now already.” In effect, the son is saying, “Dad, I wish you were dead.”

And much to our surprise, this father does. This father divides up his property, gives it to his two sons, and lets the younger son go on his way. This dad, of course, is God. If it were me, I would punch this kid’s running lights out.

But, no, God does the opposite. As much as it hurts God, God will not force us to remain in his household if we do not want to be there. God loves us all that much. That God will let us go and leave if we insist.

And yet, that does not mean that God stops waiting, hoping, watching, longing for our return. God loves us so much that God will not give up.

A Welcome Homecoming

And you know what happens next. The kid blows his bundle, ends up feeding pigs and becomes so hungry that he is ready to eat pig food. He hits bottom and then it hits him. Even the slaves at his father’s house have more to eat than he does.

And so, he will go back, repent and say, “Father, I have sinned; I am not worthy to be your son. But would you at least treat me as a hired hand?” And he goes, rehearsing his speech along the way.

But while he was still a distance off the waiting father saw him, ran to him, and kissed him before a single word came out of his mouth. And immediately this “waiting father” told his servants to bring the finest robe and to place the family ring upon his hand and the shoes of freedom on his feet and to kill the fatted calf and throw a wild party.

Forgiven Now Already

And notice please that this wayward son is not forgiven as the result of anything he did. He did not earn forgiveness by coming home or by making the correct apology. His father does not even given him a chance to use the speech he practiced on the pigs. The son just walks in and discovers that he had his dad’s forgiveness all along.

God knows the “pig pen” we have made of our lives. And yet, already now it is all forgiven whether you wish to be aware of it or not. All of the junk and clutter that we have allowed to pile up in our lives have been loaded up and carted off to the cross of Jesus Christ and dumped into the grave.

The saving death of Jesus Christ means that we are forgiven now, already, even before we think of confessing and repenting. The only question is whether or not we will wake up and smell the coffee and go back home where we belong and realize that our “waiting father” God celebrates the return of every sinner with a blowout party. God loves us all that much. It is amazing—this faithful, gracious, awesome love of God.

Awesome, but Offensive

It is so awesome, in fact, that it is offensive and appalling. Which brings us to the second son. And there is a bit of that son in us, too, the older one, that is begrudging of God’s grace.

“All these years I have slaved for you, and yet, you never gave me even a little goat for an outdoor barbeque. But when this son of yours came home, you killed the fatted calf for him.”

And isn’t this choice of words so revealing?

All this time at his father’s house had not been a joy at all, but a drudgery and duty—as it is for anyone who thinks that we earn God’s love “by being good.”

And already he has separated himself from his dad and brother. His heart has already fled into some “far country” even though he still parked his body at home. He is just as lost as his younger brother whom he so bitterly condemns.

Stop Complaining and Pour Yourself a Drink

But the father’s love is big enough for this son, too. “Look here, kid. He’s my son and you’re my son. Neither one of you ever had to “earn” this stuff. You both already have everything I’ve got. My whole life. My whole being. So what in the world are you complaining for? Come on, wipe that sour look off your face, come inside, and fix yourself a drink.”

Nothing is more deadly to our lives than “righteous indignation.” It is worse than waywardness. And so, we need to be saved from that one, too.

So, where is Jesus in this picture? I see you and I see me. We’re one of the two sons, either the “wayward” one or the “self-righteous” one. In fact, sometimes we are the two together. And God is the father in this parable. This waiting and forgiving father. But where is Jesus in this picture?

Jesus is the Fatted Calf

And isn’t it so clear? He is the “fatted calf.” Jesus is the “fatted calf.” And what do “fatted calves” do? The stand around with one purpose in life: to drop dead on a moment’s notice in order that other people might be fed and can have a party.

And if that doesn’t sound like the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” then I don’t know what does.

Jesus is the one who offers up his life at the father’s request and dies so that someone else may have a party. Grace we call it. Grace. G-R-A-C-E. God’s Riches at Christ’s Expense.

And isn’t that exactly what Jesus said on this night of his last supper: “Take eat, this is my body given for you. Take drink, this cup is the new covenant of my blood poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.

Like the Lamb at Passover

Like the paschal lamb, the death of Jesus (his sacrifice upon the cross), becomes food for a journey, a journey that takes us from a bondage to every form of slavery and sets us free as God’s children in God’s land of promise.

Or, like the young bull offered at the temple for the sake of the sins of the high priest (in other words “the highest form sacrifice”), the sacrifice of Jesus draws us near to God and brings us to God’s table. Not as a slave or servant, but as a son, a child of God. J

esus is the one who allows it all to happen—this feasting and this celebration.

Not only is Jesus the one who tells the story, who lets us know that we have a forgiving Father, but he is also the one who allows it all to happen. Without him there would be no party, no joy or celebration.

This parable is so powerful and so potent because Jesus is there. Jesus is there in this picture with us. And this is no made up story. It really happened. It really did. Jesus did do this for you and for me.

© 2010 Pastor Paul Jaster

Third Sunday in Lent
March 7, 2010
Does God ZAP Sinners?
Luke 13:1-9

Horrible Headlines

Leave it to Jesus to rewrite the headlines for us. It is a gripping picture of a forgiving and faithful God that Jesus paints for us today, although it does begin with a gruesome tale.

Some of those coming to Jesus told him of one of the horrible headlines in the news. The kind that we see on TV every day. The Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, had recently killed some people on pilgrimage from Galilee while they were offering their sacrifices in Jerusalem, thus mingling their blood with their sacrifices. My word, what a gruesome sight!

And here is Jesus’ answer: “Do you think that just because these Galileans suffered such a horrible death, they were some kind of super-sinners? No way!” Jesus says. “But unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” And then, Jesus adds a horrible headline of his own. Some kind of industrial accident. The Tower of Siloam fell, killing18.

Why Do Terrible Things Happen?

Why? Jesus why? Why do great tragedies like this happen? Why do terrible traffic accidents take place? Why do people get horrible diseases and killing cancers? Why do some people always seem to have a huge black cloud hanging over their head?

And here we have an answer from our Lord himself. “Tragedies do NOT happen because God is out to get someone. God is not out on some big vendetta zapping sinners. God just doesn’t operate that way. Those people who die in tragic accidents or in cruel acts of terror are no greater sinners than all the rest. Tragedies simply happen…by accident…at random,” Jesus says.

“So come on, you guys, stop acting like death is something God sends only to the bad guys and come to realize that one day you must die too. You must die,” Jesus says, “And I, Jesus, must die. The only question is will you die in hopelessness and despair. Or, will you come to realize that death is not the awful tragedy that human fear has made of it.

“Because I have come to die with you and to die for you. And I am the spitting image of a faithful God who will not fail those who put their trust in him. In fact, death, my friend, MY death is the very way that God has chosen to save you.”

The Picture of the Fig Tree

“And just in case you have trouble understanding that, then let me draw still yet another picture for you,” Jesus says. “This guy had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, see. And he kept coming to it looking for figs finding none. And so he said to his gardener, “Three years I have been trying to get some figs from this tree and it hasn’t produced even one. Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?”

But, the gardener said to him, “Let it be Lord. Give it another chance. Let me dig around it and put on manure. And if it bears fruit next year, so much the better; if not, then you can cut it down.”

At First, The Same Old Story

At first this sounds like the same old story. God giving people what they deserve. God giving people the ax when they do not bear the fruit that they were meant to bear. And isn’t that the way it always works? Three strikes and you’re out! If the computer doesn’t work or if your Toyota doesn’t break, then get rid of it.

If you cannot do the job, you’re fired. If you cannot pass this test, then maybe you had better start thinking of a new career. If someone hasn’t shown up in church for three years, they are “dead wood,” aren’t they? And shouldn’t we get the pruning shears out and trim them from the rolls?

You want a horror story? This is the real horror story. We are all dead. All of us, right now. We do not bear the fruit that God expects. And if God were to give us what we deserve, God would give us the ax. That is the law—God’s word of judgment.

But, Jesus Gives a New Ending

But Jesus gives a new ending to this old story. Instead of the woodpile for us, Jesus inserts a dramatic intervention. A load of fertilizer and tender loving care. “Forgive it, Lord. Forgive it. I will dig about it. I will fertilize and nurture it. I will bring it back to life again with my own work and effort.”

It happens all by grace. That is the message of good news that Jesus has for us.

On the cross Jesus held out his hand and stopped the ax. He died the death that was meant for us. And he said to God, “Forgive them, Lord. Forgive them. I will dig around them and fertilize them with the death of my own body.”

And by a strange, odd act of grace, God made his awful, stinking death turn into a helpful, spirited substance which makes us come alive and bear that one fruit which is the sweetest to God’s taste—the fruit of faith.

By a miracle of grace, death has become the way to life. The death of Jesus dug down deep into the very roots of our being and fills us with that energizing juice—a holy Miracle-gro—that makes us come alive and be productive.

Life Through Death & The Fruit of Faith

And if that sounds to you like a bunch of sheep dip, well then, let me simply remind you that the smelly stuff that my father put around his tomatoes (the manure) made those little tomato plants grow. That stuff that smelled so bad (like death itself) was the very stuff that gave something else a fruitful life. “You can not beat it,” my father said, “so pug your nose and stop complaining.”

It’s like when a patient coach gives us another chance at bat even though we have struck out three times already—this time with his strong, skilled arms around us guiding and directing us.

Or, it is like when a generous employer keeps on and still gives us our Christmas bonus even though we have made a big mistake that has cost the company big bucks.

Or, it’s like when an understanding teacher rips up a disappointing test and says, “Let’s forget about this one, I myself will tutor you and we try again and again and again until we get it right.”

Something dies—the rules of the game, any sense of cost accounting, academic excellence. Something dies. But something also blooms and grows—the love, the faith, the hope, the trust of the one who has been forgiven.

When Jesus dug himself a hole and got himself nailed upon a cross, something died—God judgment died. And…something else was born—a new life for the believer.

As long as our roots are fed by the death of Jesus, we bear the fruit which is the sweetest to God’s taste. We do. We really do. We bear the fruit of faith. Which, to God, is the very best fruit of them all.

© 2010 Pastor Paul Jaster