Being Clear about the Why - 4th Sunday after Epiphany, 2024

“For that is what I came out to do” (Mark 1:29.)

Jesus was clear about his purpose. It was the why that governed what he did.

The gospel of Mark described the first experiences of Jesus’s public ministry. They took place in Capernaum, the fishing village on the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee. On the Sabbath, Jesus taught in the synagogue at Capernaum. In addition, he cast a demon out of a demon-possessed man, freeing him and healing him. The people were amazed at what they heard and saw: “a new teaching—with authority!” coupled with the authority to cast out unclean spirits (Mark 1:27). As a result, after sundown (i.e., when the Sabbath was over), the crowds gathered around him, seeking his healing power.

The next morning, his disciples were eager to continue what he had been doing. After all, it was working! The people were impressed with what they were hearing. The crowds were growing. “Everyone is searching for you” (Mark 1:37). It was, in their minds, what success must look like.

Jesus, however, wasn’t impressed with the response of the crowd. He had gotten up early, slipping off to a deserted place, in order to pray. In his time of prayer, he gained clarity in the face of the pressure coming from the crowds and from his disciples. “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, for that is what I came out to do” (Mark 1:38).

Jesus understood his mission—“what I came out to do.” He why he had been sent by God. He was sent to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God. “The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15). He proclaimed the good news that the kingdom was here, now, in their midst. It was a reality they could experience in their own lives.

Jesus was clear about his purpose. That purpose—his why—dictated what he did and how he did it. His clarity about his purpose was a guardrail that prevented him from getting distracted by the response of the crowds to his teaching and healing, by the needs and demands of the crowds clamoring for healing, by the excitement of his disciples, by the disciples’ definition of success. “For this is what I came out to do.”

One of the on-going challenges that every church faces, in my opinion, is being clear about their purpose. What is their why? Why do they exist? What is their purpose?

As the followers of Jesus, a church’s purpose—it seems to me—grows out of and aligns with Jesus’s purpose.

Jesus’s purpose was to proclaim the kingdom of God, inviting people to embrace it. “Repent and believe the good news.” As he pointed people to the kingdom, taught them about it, and invited them to embrace it, he brought the kingdom into reality.

As the followers of Jesus, a church’s purpose—their why—is to learn and live the ways of the kingdom. It is to help its members grow in their understanding of the ways of the kingdom (the ways of God Jesus taught) and in their ability to live them. The church’s purpose is to be a spiritual community that embodies the ways of God Jesus taught. Like Jesus, the church is to point people to the kingdom, teach them about the kingdom, and invite them to embrace it, helping bring the kingdom into reality on earth.

Clarity about purpose—the church’s why—determines what the members do and how they do it.

Every church functions out of some purpose. The question is “are they clear about their purpose?” Apart from clarity and intentionality about purpose, what they do is governed by unidentified, unconscious purposes.

Most churches, I dare say, function more out of the past than out of a clear sense of purpose. Tradition, “we’ve always done it that way,” the likes and preferences of members begin to determine what is done. The unidentified purpose is to appease the members and keep them happy. Generally, that translates into doing what we’ve always done.

For many, the unidentified purpose is institutional survival. Institutional-organizational issues and needs take over—raising the money necessary to keep the doors open and the programs running, filling the various positions (who will do what?), addressing the needs of the building and property. The leader’s (pastor’s) role is to maintain the organizational structure and keep the various programs functioning.

Some would say the purpose of the church is to grow the church. This purpose is sometimes expressed as “reaching more people for Christ.” Growing the church is another expression of institutional survival—i.e., keeping the church from dying.

Apart from clarity and intentionality about purpose, churches often function out of conflicting purposes. Each group, class, and organization has its own agenda (purpose) because no central, defining purpose exists. Apart from clarity and intentionality about purpose, members may not even think about, much less understand, why they do what they do.

A lack of clarity about purpose opens the door to conflict and the resulting chaos. I would be so bold as to say that every church conflict took place in a congregation that did not have a clearly stated purpose.

Clarity of purpose—such as Jesus had—provides the members of a church a clear sense of identity. It creates clear boundaries, governing what they do and don’t do. (“How does this event or activity help us live out of our purpose? How is it an expression of our purpose?”) It becomes a guide for decision making and spending. It become the arbitrator in conflict. (“How does your position reflect or embody our purpose? How does it help us live out our purpose?”)

“For that is what I came out to do.” I wonder how many churches, how many church members, how many groups within the churches can say what it is that they “came out to do.” Does a clear sense of why govern what they do?

 

Repent and Believe - the Third Sunday after Epiphany, 2024

Repent!

According to the gospels, it was what both John the Baptizer and Jesus proclaimed (Mark 1:4-5, 14-16).

How do we hear this biblical exhortation?

In the tradition in which I grew up, the term was a command, a demand. It was about changing wrong behavior—sins. It was commonly described as “an about face.” It implied a sense of sorrow and regret, of guilt and shame for the sins. The demand carried a tone of condemnation with the threat of judgment. It was a prerequisite to being forgiven.

This concept of repentance is reflected in how John used the term (Luke 3:1-14). He called people to change their behavior, demanding the people to show evidence of repentance in changed behavior—“Bear fruits worthy of repentance” (Luke 3:8). This demand reflected the Hebrew word for “turn” which is commonly translated as “repent.” It echoed the historian’s language “turn from your wicked ways” (2 Chronicles 7:14). John’s demand for repentance was laced with condemnation. He called the people “you brood of vipers” (Luke 3:7). It communicated guilt and shame. John's message was proclaimed with the threat of judgment—“who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” (Luke 3:7).

This understanding of repentance reflects the transactional nature of merit-based, deserving-oriented thinking. If we will repent, then God will forgive. If we will change our ways—i.e., turn from our sins—then God will accept us.

It’s easy to see why we hear “repent” as a demand filled with condemnation and the threat of judgment. It reflects how John used the term. It reflects how the world trained us to think—merit-based, deserving-oriented thinking.

This understanding of repentance is not what Jesus proclaimed.

Jesus’s message of repentance was a part of his proclamation of the good news of the kingdom. “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15). Jesus’s message was that the kingdom was here, now, in their (our) midst—the meaning of the word translated “has come near.” It was a present reality, not some distant hope. It was something that could be experienced and participated in and contributed to here, now.

Because the kingdom was here, now, in their midst, Jesus called the people to repent and believe. “Repent and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15). His message was not a demand filled with condemnation, driven by the fear of judgment. It was an invitation to experience the kingdom. As such, it was rooted in grace—in what God had done and was doing—rather than in merit-based, deserving-oriented thinking and functioning.

The Greek word Jesus used did not reflect the Hebrew concept of changing one’s behavior—turn. Rather, the word meant “to think with a different mind.” Jesus called people to change the way they thought, not what they did. Unlike John, Jesus’s focus was not on behavior. Rather, Jesus addressed the source of behavior—how one thought. A change in thinking would then produce a change in how they lived and what they did.

Thinking with a different mind—what I refer to as thinking shaped by the character of God and the ways of God—would allow them to recognize the kingdom that was already in their midst and thus experience it for themselves. As long as our thinking is shaped by how the world trained us to think—merit-based, deserving-oriented thinking—we will not be able to recognize the kingdom that is before our very eyes.

Jesus’s invitation to think with a different mind was paired with the call to believe—“believe in the good news” of the kingdom (Mark 1;15). In popular religious culture, to believe is an intellectual concept—a cognitive function. It means to accept a fact as true. The dominant religious culture in American Christianity emphasizes believing certain things—about the Bible, about Jesus, about Jesus’s death on the cross, about our sinful nature, etc. These beliefs are prerequisites to being “saved,” i.e., a Christian. (By contrast, Jesus taught us to believe something about God, specifically, about what God is like—a God of self-giving, faithful love who lives out of a servant spirit, a God who loves us and works for our good.)

The New Testament concept of believe—reflected in Jesus’s invitation to believe—carried a significantly different meaning. To believe something was to accept it as true and then build one’s life upon it. It was more than a cognitive exercise. It was a posture of faith that stakes one’s life on something as true. To believe was to allow what was believed to shape one’s life.

Jesus’s invitation was to believe the good news of the kingdom. It was to believe that the kingdom was indeed here, now, in their (our) midst. It was to allow that belief to shape their lives. To believe the good news was to embrace it, allowing that good news to shape how they lived. It was to accept the reality of the kingdom by embracing the ways of the kingdom as their own.

Jesus’s invitation to repent and believe had no hint of condemnation, no threat of judgment, no transactional nature in it. It was not about changing one’s behavior. It was an invitation to allow the character of God and the ways of God to shape how they thought. It was an invitation to embrace, experience, and participate in a different way of life known as the kingdom of God.

Jesus’s invitation to repent and believe is captured in his invitation to his first disciples, “Follow me” (Mark 1:17). The call to be a follower of Jesus is a call to learn from him this different way of thinking, to learn from him the ways of God—i.e., the ways of the kingdom, to learn from him this different way of life.

Thankfully, Jesus’s invitation still stands today. Repent and believe the good news!

Human Relations Sunday - Second Sunday after Epiphany

On the liturgical calendar, the Sunday immediately before MLK Day is designated as Human Relations Sunday. This special focus continually confronts us with our attitudes toward those who are not like us, calling into question how we treat them.

The gospel lesson for this particular Sunday is the story of Philip and Nathanael (John 1:43-51)—two of the lesser-known disciples of Jesus. Like Peter and Andrew, they were from the fishing town of Bethsaida (John 1:44).  

The story begins with Jesus finding Philip and inviting him to be one of his disciples. “Follow me” (John 1:43). Philip, in turn, found Nathanael and told him “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth” (John 1:45). Nathanael responded by asking, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:45).

Nathanael’s response captures the theme of Human Relations Day. It reflects the challenge we all face—our attitude toward others, particularly those who are not like us. Our attitude, in turn, determines how we treat them.

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Nathanael was from Bethsaida, a fishing village on the northern shore of the sea of Galilee. It was an economically thriving community located on the trade route linking Egypt with Damascus and Syria (and, thereby, with the Tigris-Euphrates River Valley and its links to the Far East).

In contrast to Bethsaida, Nazareth was located in the western foothills of Mt. Tabor, on the eastern edge of the great Plain of Jezreel. It did not enjoy the economic prosperity or cosmopolitan influence associated with the international trade route as Bethsaida did. Nathanel’s question captured the attitude of much of the region toward the people of Nazareth. Nazareth was nothing more than an insignificant, out-of-the-way country village. In today’s language, its citizens would be considered “hicks” or “country bumpkins.” (Adding to this negative view of Nazareth was Sepphoris, the political center of lower Galilee. The Jewish historian Josephus described Sepphoris as “the ornament of all Galilee.” Sepphoris, located just five miles north of Nazareth, overshadowed it in every way. Some historians believe Jesus had Sepphoris in mind when he spoke of “a city built upon a hill” (Matthew 5:14).)

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Nathanael’s question reflects an attitude with which we all struggle. It is inherent to our human condition. We hold disdain for those who are not like us, looking down on them as inferior and “less than.”

Nathanael assumed Jesus could not be who Philip said he was—a person of spiritual, religious, political, and national significance—simply because he was from a place that was socially and economically different from his. Jesus was from Nazareth.

The “Nazareth” we use to justify our “they’re less than” attitude toward others is multifaceted. Most are reflected in our nation’s polarization: ethnicity, cultural region, political identity, political-social-moral issues, religion, theology, socioeconomic status, education, sexual orientation, etc.

Each of these identified issues are but the content we use to justify our attitude toward the other. We seldom look beyond them—that is, beyond the surface—to identify the underlying source of our attitude. In other words, our attitude toward the other is not fueled by the issue we use to attack them.

That which fuels our attitude toward another actually has nothing to do with them. The underlying issue is about us, not them. Remember Jesus’s teaching: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). His words tie how we view and treat our neighbor with how we view ourselves.

Our negative, discounting attitude toward those who are not like us is evidence that we carry a deep-seated, negative attitude about ourselves. We carry a shame-based identity. This shame-based identity is captured in the negative messages that haunt us: “You are no good. You are flawed. You’ll never measure up. You’ll never be good enough. No one will ever love you. You’ll never amount to anything. You are nothing but a loser.” All of these messages say “less than”—the very thing we say about the other.

Because of the pain this shame-based identity stirs, we push it outside of our awareness—into our unconscious mind, into what Jung called “the shadow.” We push it underground. It then surfaces in how we view and treat others.

Unfortunately, we cannot push the old messages out of our awareness. They haunt us, surfacing at unexpected times and in unexpected ways. The pain they stir is the pain of our shame-based identity.

To compensate for this shame-based identity, we manufacture an egocentric identity. This manufactured identity is based upon what the world told us we needed to be and do if we wanted to be accepted and valued. This conformity to the world’s standards is how we offset the old “less than” messages. It allows us to feel “better than” those who fail to measure up—those who are not like us. We prop up our fragile, egocentric identities by viewing and treating them as “less than.” We build ourselves up by tearing the other down. We feel good about ourselves at the other’s expense.

Philip did not challenge Nathanael’s view of Jesus, i.e., his attitude about Nazareth. Instead, he invited Nathanael, “Come and see” (John 1:46).

The only way to overcome our negative attitude toward others is through relationship—through an encounter that challenges our assumptions. We have to experience who they are as a beloved child of God.

Encounter and relationship require us to get outside of our self-affirming bubbles of those who think like us and look like us. Getting outside our bubble is the invitation embedded in Human Relations Sunday.

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Come and see.

Baptism of the Lord, 2024

All four of the gospels tell the story of Jesus’s baptism by John in the Jordan. The three synoptic gospels record the details of the story (Matthew 3:13-17; Mark 1:9-11; Luke 3:21-22). The gospel of John made reference to it (John 1:29-34). This unified witness speaks of the significance of the event.

The details of the baptism communicate its significance for Jesus. They affirmed for him his sense of identity—his understanding of who he was: the Messiah.

The baptism was a mystical as well as a physical experience for Jesus. As he was baptized by John, Jesus saw a vision and heard a voice. Both the vision and the voice reflected Jesus’s understanding of who he was.

The vision was of the Spirit descending upon him in the form of a dove (Mark 1:10). In the Hebrew Scriptures, the Spirit was given to select individuals who had been chosen by God for a special calling—prophets and kings. The vision of being anointed with the Spirit confirmed for Jesus that he was God’s chosen Messiah. (As you know, the word “messiah” means “the anointed one.”)  

The voice Jesus heard reinforced the vision. What the voice said was composed of two parts. Each part was a line from a song in the Hebrew Scriptures. The first part of the affirmation—“You are my Son, the Beloved”—was from Psalm 2, the coronation psalm. This psalm was sung in the coronation of a new king. It declared the special relationship the king had with God as a beloved son. This line reinforced the message of the vision—Jesus was the Messianic king, the son of David. The second line—“with you I am well pleased”—was from one of the four servant songs of Isaiah (Isaiah 42:1). This line indicated that Jesus was the suffering servant of Isaiah—the one who would suffer and die on behalf of the people (Isaiah 52:13-53:12).

These two lines reflect Jesus’s unique understanding of the Messiah: the Messiah was the suffering servant of the LORD. Rather than being a warrior-king, the messianic king was a servant who would suffer and die for his people. Jesus was the first person in Hebrew history to combine these two historic roles.

His baptism was Jesus’s commitment to embrace and live out of his identity. Immediately after his baptism, Jesus experienced a period of testing in the wilderness—what we commonly call his temptations. This time of testing was based upon his self-understanding. From there, Jesus began his public ministry, proclaiming “the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:14-15).

While each synoptic gospel tells the story of Jesus’s baptism, each used the story with a different purpose in mind. Mark’s gospel used the story as the central feature in the introduction of his gospel.

The opening statement of the gospel established the theme of the introduction (Mark 1:1-15). “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mark 1:1). The original audience would have understood the opening words as a political statement. “The good news” (or gospel) was a phrase used throughout the Roman Empire when a new edict from the emperor was proclaimed: “the good news of Emperor Tiberius.” “The Son of God” was a title used in reference to the emperor (as were the titles Savior, Lord, Prince of Peace). The gospel of Jesus offered an alternative to the ways of the Roman Empire.

In the final lines of the introduction, Jesus proclaimed the good news of the kingdom of God (Mark 1:14-15). The reign of God “has come near.” The word means here, now, in your midst. A new way of life—one at odds with the ways of empire—was available for all to experience, participate in, and contribute to.

How the kingdom was different from the ways of the empire is reflected in Jesus’s baptism. As the Messiah, Jesus used power to serve—i.e., as a servant—embracing every person as a beloved child of God and seeking their good. As the suffering servant, Jesus sought the other’s good at great cost to himself. By contrast, the Roman Empire was hierarchical. In it, power was used by those in positions of authority over, down against those in lower positions in the hierarchy. Power was used for personal benefit at the other’s expense. The contrast between the two—the empire of Rome and the kingdom of God—was clear.

Jesus came to proclaim and establish the kingdom of God—a world that lived the grace-based, servant ways of God. He called all who heard his message to follow him, learning from him this new way of living. The gospel tells the story of the followers of Jesus as they moved from the ways the world trained them to think—“the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod” (Mark 8:15) —to thinking shaped by the character of God and the ways of God.

Jesus’s baptism marks the beginning of his ministry. Similarly, the Baptism of the Lord Sunday begins the liturgical calendar’s march toward Easter. It calls us to remember our baptism, reaffirming our identity as the beloved children of God and as the followers of Jesus. It calls us to live the alternative ways of the kingdom through the power of the Spirit.

Remember your baptism. Embrace your identity as a beloved child of God, called to be a follower of Jesus. Knowing you have been anointed with the same Spirit that anointed Jesus at his baptism, live out of this identity by learning and living the ways of God that Jesus taught.

Epiphany, 2024

Epiphany. On the liturgical calendar, Epiphany is the feast day that follows on the heals of the twelve days of Christmas.

Epiphany is about light. The word literally means “shining upon.” The Child whose birth we celebrate at Christmas was/is the light of the world. “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1;3-5).

The metaphor of light communicates the idea of seeing and knowing. Darkness keeps us from seeing. To be “in the dark” is to not know or understand. Light drives the darkness away, enabling us to see, to know, to understand.

As the light of the world, Jesus helps us to see God and understand the ways of God. “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son who has made him known” (John 1:18). As Jesus said to Philip, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9). In Jesus, we catch a glimpse of God. In him, we see the heart of God. Through his life, we come to understand the ways of God.

Traditionally, Epiphany is associated with two different texts.

The first text is the story of the magi found in Matthew 2. The magi were scholars—likely priests associated with the royal court of Persia. They were Gentiles, not Jews. They came seeking the newborn king of the Jews. Their story calls to mind the words of the prophet Isaiah: “I will give you as a light to the nations that my salvation my reach to the end of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). As the servant of the LORD, Jesus was “a light to the nations” (Isaiah 42:6). Through him, people of every nation—represented by the magi—could know God and the ways of God.

The baptism of Jesus is also commonly associated with Epiphany. Jesus’s baptism marked the beginning of his public ministry of proclaiming the kingdom of God. Through his ministry, “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined” (Isaiah 9:2). “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

While Epiphany points to Jesus as the light of the world, it also reminds us that Jesus has “rescued us from the power of darkness” (Colossians 1:13). It calls us as the followers of Jesus to “walk in the light as he himself is in the light” (1 John 1:7). To walk in the light is move beyond the way the world trained us to think and live. It is to allow our thinking to be shaped by who Jesus revealed God to be. It is to live the ways of God that Jesus taught. “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light” (Ephesians 5:8). The light of Christ shines upon us, guiding us in living the ways of God. In addition, the light of Christ shines through us into the world, driving back the darkness so others can see God and know the ways of God.

The light of Epiphany—the light by which we see and know God—the light that shows us the ways of God—the light that guides us in living the ways of God—the light that drives out the darkness. Epiphany is the celebration of Jesus as the light of the world.   

“Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. 

For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples;

But the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you.

Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn" (Isaiah 60:1-3).