I walked into the Baptist Student Center at the University of
Kentucky, about to take over as chaplain. My predecessor
was still on the scene, filling up garbage cans with files. In
those pre-Watergate days, nobody had thought of shredders,
I guess. He was throwing away every record, every letter,
every bulletin, every document that he had worked with over
about ten years. I was appalled. I said I thought I might
need some of those. I might want to know what had been
going on. He said two things, one of which was wise and the
other was not. He said, first, that I would be making my own
way and working out of my own vision, and that I would not
want to be bound by the past; and second, he said that he
had always liked everything to be neat and clean and wanted
to leave the place that way.
One of those two things was wise; the other was not. You
figure out which was which.
Change comes to everything. And when change comes it is
not always neat. When winds blow, they disturb our lives,
and we have to respond. We can respond by working harder
at making things nice and neat. We can resist change. Or
we can learn to love change, we can go with the flow, and
we can enjoy fresh winds blowing.
Jesus introduced change wherever He went. People reacted
to Jesus. They did not just yawn in His face. They did not
respond with indifference. They felt the change He brought.
When Jesus came, He changed people. You might have
been cheating people out of their tax money, but Jesus
looked up the tree at you and said, “I’m coming to your house
for dinner.” And you got busy! You might have been turning
tricks on the streets, but Jesus stood you in the middle of a
crowd and dared them to prove themselves sinless. You
went home free from sin. Jesus changed people’s lives.
And whether it was the Samaritan woman who went running
back to town to tell them to come see a man who told me
everything I ever did, or whether it was the skeptical
Nathaniel muttering about how nothing good could come out
of Nazareth, you got a surprise when Jesus walked into your
life. He changed things. He created chaos. But you loved
it, because He made you different. He loosed you from the
stuff that had held you down.
So when that defining moment on the road to Caesarea
Philippi came up, maybe it’s not surprising that the disciples
reported some wild guesses as to who Jesus was. They
selected some of history’s more unpredictable people, some
of Israel’s most unsettling figures. They said, “Jesus is like
this.” Chaotic, creative, charismatic. Messy souls. Do you
think Jesus is like these guys?!
I
Like John the Baptist, for instance? The people guessed
that Jesus might be John the Baptist returned to life. John,
who dressed in animal skins and took his breakfast from
locusts and wild honey! John, who did not seem to bother
with niceties like where he would sleep or what he would put
on or how he would eat. John, whose total existence was
wrapped up in announcing one thing, “Repent, for the
Kingdom of God is at hand.” I don’t know about you, but I
am not sure I want John the Baptist as my role model. I’d
rather sit in an office and plan with precision.
We travel to Britain on Tuesday. We have planned things
down to a fare-thee-well. We know exactly when we are
supposed to arrive, and at what gate. We know what car we
are to pick up, and I have studied the map to determine
which highway – oh, I’m supposed to say “dual carriage
motorway” – which dual carriage motorway to take to get to
our destination. Which is planned, we have a reservation for
bed and breakfast. I have the address and the phone
number. It’s all planned. Nothing is left to chance. All I
have to do is learn which side of the car to get into and
practice saying to myself, “to the left, to the left, to the left.”
No, I am not John the Baptist. I am not very comfortable with
spontaneity. I don’t just get out there without a plan.
Planning is important to me.
Buy have you heard the story about the flight that was so
carefully and completely automated? All the latest planning
techniques and all the best technology had been used to
provide a controlled experience for the plane’s passengers.
They took their seats, computer selected for each
passenger’s height and weight. They glanced at packets of
information, prepared for each passenger’s preference. And
then they all listened to a recorded message, explaining that
there was no pilot on board, because everything was
computer controlled. There was no co-pilot, because
everything had been checked and double-checked. And
then the message continued, “So, you see, ladies and
gentlemen, because of our careful planning and preparation,
nothing can go wrong .. nothing can go wrong .. nothing can
go wrong ..”
Ah, our proud plans. But the people thought Jesus was
more like John the Baptist. John was able to get his ego out
of the way and let others do what they are called to do, even
if he didn’t plan it. John’s gift is to be able to step aside from
all of the planning, all that pride, and recognize that in Jesus
there is one calls us beyond what we want to do. What did
John the Baptist do, as his mission of preaching repentance
ran headlong into Jesus? What a statement, “He must
increase, while I must decrease.” “He must increase, but I
must decrease.” More of Jesus and less of me. More of
Jesus’ will and less of my plans. More of Jesus’ fresh winds
blowing and less of my old stale air that I have been
breathing so many years. More of Him and less of me.
Oh, Takoma! We want every “i” dotted and every “t” crossed
before we do anything. The day has come when we must
trust God and trust each other and not worry so much about
getting everything just right before we move out. The day
has come for us to let loose and let God. We don’t have to
know the end of the journey before we set foot out the door,
not if Christ is our guide and the Spirit is our power!
People saw in Jesus something of John. They saw in Jesus
one who would make Himself of no reputation, and would
take upon Himself a shameful cross, to do something radical
to save us. Jesus was not bound up in His ego. He let
Himself and His pride go in order to save us. He loosed up
His pride. You and I need to let loose from the pride that do
more for Jesus and less for ourselves.
II
But then they thought, too, that Jesus might be Elijah. Elijah
the prophet of Mt. Carmel. Elijah the nemesis of Ahab and
Jezebel. Elijah was a chaotic soul if ever I saw one. An
unpredictable spirit. Elijah acted with such boldness for God
– but he also got so down in the dumps. Stressed out.
Emotionally distraught. Elijah got to the place where he
thought he was the only one who had it right. Oh, Lord, only
I am left among the prophets. I am the only one. Nobody
else understands. Nobody else is faithful. Nobody else is
really spiritual. Have you ever felt that way? Sure you have.
And when you did, what else did you feel? Totally unhappy!
And utterly alone!
One day I was early to a meeting. I was the first person in
the room. As I sat waiting, someone stuck her head in the
door and looked the room over, then leaned back out and
shouted to somebody in the hall, “There’s nobody in here!”
What am I, chopped liver? But you know, she was right.
There had been enough garbage going on in my life at that
point that I really had to agree with her. My body may have
been in that room, but I was not. Spiritually I was not. I was
feeling sorry for myself. I thought I had been working hard,
but wasn’t getting any reward. Nobody was jumping up and
down to tell me how good my preaching was. Nobody was
writing little notes or making quick phone calls to tell me I
was appreciated. They hadn’t taught me in seminary that
after the first few months the people no longer think you are
the greatest thing since sliced bread! And so I was in that
room, nursing my hurt and massaging my loneliness. What
that woman announced was the truth. “There’s nobody in
here.” That’s what Elijah was feeling too. “I, only I am left of
the prophets of the Lord, and now they seek to take away my
life. Lord, let me die.” Just get me out of here. They don’t
like me anyway.
But Elijah is a gift to us, because it was out of that lonely
experience that Elijah learned to live out of grace. It was out
of that disappointment that Elijah learned to receive what
God gives as the inexhaustible riches of grace. Ravens
came and fed him. God sent the very birds of the air to take
care of His prophet. And God spoke to Elijah – do you
remember? God spoke to Elijah, not out of the earthquake,
not out of the roaring wind, not out of the fire, not out of the
flashy things – but God spoke in the still small voice of calm.
God spoke in that inner voice that settled Elijah’s heart and
gave him strength.
When people saw Jesus, they were reminded of Elijah. I
suspect they saw in Jesus one who was profoundly lonely
sometimes. No one understood Him. No one shared His
insight. No one bought His mission completely. Even the
best of His disciples misinterpreted Jesus. And like Elijah,
sometimes He stood alone against everything. But Elijah’s
example was a gift. Jesus beat down the temptation to give
the people what they wanted. He set aside the temptation to
dazzle them with His powers. Jesus lived out of the grace of
God and not of His own powers. He had no place to lay His
head, but it was all right. He was abandoned by His own
family, but it was all right. He lived out of the grace of God
and received, as Elijah did, food and shelter and clothing
from God’s love. It was sufficient. It was enough. Elijah
taught us, Jesus taught us to let loose of anxiety, to let loose
of worry, to let loose of concern about what others thought.
Takoma, we are not here to be liked. We are not here to be
popular. We are not here to do what the world wants us to
do. We are here to do the will of God, and for that His grace
will be sufficient. Let loose. Let loose that need to be
popular.
III
Where are we now? They thought Jesus might have been
John the Baptist; they thought He might have been Elijah.
And some of them thought that He might have been
Jeremiah. Jeremiah, whose fate it was to have lived in crisis
times, when everybody was pulling back from involvement.
Everybody was trying to be careful. After all, the
Babylonians were on the march, and Jerusalem was falling,
and Judah was in exile. It felt like a time to grab what you
had and hide it. A time to hoard your money and dig your
way into the bomb shelter. A time like after September 11,
when we worry about security and safety for ourselves more
than about salvation for others.
But Jeremiah wrote a letter to the exiles, in their misery, and
he urged them to settle in and invest themselves, even in
Babylon. Build houses, plant gardens, give your children in
marriage, get rooted in Babylon, because that is where God
has put you and wants to use you. Let loose of your
energies, let loose of your money, let loose of your
heartstrings, make peace with where you are, because God
wants to use you there. Jeremiah told God’s people not to
sit on their hands waiting to go back home, because home
was not going to be the same anyway. Get busy where you
are, right now.
Jeremiah is a gift to us. A gift, because we get trapped in
nostalgia. We spin stories about how good it all used to be.
We talk about this person and that, this occasion and that
program, and it sure does sound rosy, those thrilling days of
yesteryear! I told one of our deacons the other day that I
want to be the preacher at our 100th anniversary in 2019,
because maybe then I will be somebody’s nostalgia! We like
it the way it used to be. I have a pastor friend whose church
came apart because at some point the people decided that
instead of going forward to 1990’s Maryland, they wanted to
go in reverse and do church just like they 1940’s rural
Mississippi. It did not work.
Jeremiah’s gift to us is the freedom to roll up our sleeves and
let loose our energies, right here, right now. Jeremiah’s gift
to us is the encouragement to know that God has not left us,
God is with us, God wants to let loose His saving power
through us, for our generation, for our time, for our
community, for now. God is not calling us to wish for what
used to be. God is calling is to love this day, this
opportunity, this world.
People saw in Jesus one who was willing to let loose and get
on with today’s task. Jesus said, “You have heard it said of
old time, but I say to you now ...” Jesus prayed, “Let this cup
pass from me, nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.”
They saw in Jesus one like Jeremiah, who would let loose all
that He had in redemptive mission, even if it cost Him a
cross. And what does the Bible say about that? That Jesus,
for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross,
despising the pain. For the joy that was set before Him.
Jesus, let loose with everything He had.
In John Masefield’s play, “The Trial of Jesus,” there is a
scene where Pontius Pilate’s wife asks a soldier what has
become of the man Jesus, whom
her husband crucified. The soldier answers, "Let loose in the
world, lady; let loose in the world,, where neither Roman nor
Jew can stop his truth."
Let loose in the world. All that we do as the church of the
Lord Jesus Christ ought to be built on that. “On this rock I
will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail
against it ... I have given you the keys of the kingdom, and
whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” A
prevailing church has the authority to loose many things.
Takoma Park Baptist Church has the potential to be a
prevailing church. I see us letting loose and letting God do
what He wants to do through us.
I see us letting families loose from the burdens of conflict.
We have a dream for a family life center to heal the hurts of
the families in this community. We can let them loose from
their conflicts.
I see us letting children loose from abuse. Too many
children still suffer from oppressive treatment. It’s not just
the Catholic Church that has a child treatment problem. It’s
our city, it’s our society that treats kids like dirt and throws
them away. I see this church with services to children that
will set them loose from oppression.
I see us creating ministries for people tied up in cultural
wrappings that will not let them go. One of our members is
counseling people from other cultures who find life very
difficult here in America. I see us turning these folks loose
with a ministry that is tuned to their culture and frees their
spirits.
I see us cutting ourselves loose from old habits with the way
we use our properties. We burn up a lot of energy and
money and time on these facilities. I see us creating on this
corner structures that will last a generation and will really
serve to set people free spiritually. I see a building that
would support dynamic worship, quality recreation, profound
education, training for mission – just imagine this entire block
of properties in the service of the Lord. Oh, sometimes I
can’t sleep, imagining all the possibilities! What we might do
if we were to let loose. To let go and let God. To be a
prevailing church.
A prevailing church, letting loose of pride. Like John the
Baptist, no longer caring about getting the credit, but letting
loose everything for Christ. He must increase and we must
decrease.
A prevailing church, letting loose of our anxieties. Like Elijah,
letting go of worrying about whether there will be money
enough to run the church. Living calmly out of the grace of
God.
A prevailing church, letting loose our traditions in order to be
joyfully obedient to Christ. Like Jeremiah, staking everything
on the lordship of Christ, and believing with everything that is
in us that this place, this time, this community, this city, this
world, is ours. It belongs to us. We claim it in the name of
Christ.
And we loose it. We share the good news that men and
women can be set loose from sin, set loose from shame, set
loose from guilt, set loose from everything that keeps them
from being what the Lord wants them to be.
You say that sounds like chaos? You say that sounds like too
much? How would we ever get it planned, and don’t we need
to take it slow and wait and see?
I had walked into the Baptist Student Center at the University
of Kentucky, about to take over as chaplain. My predecessor
had been filling up garbage cans with all of his files. I was
appalled, saying I thought I might need to know what had
been going on. He had said two things, one of which was
wise and the other was not. He had said, first, that I would
not want to be bound by the past; and second, he had said
that everything should be neat and clean.
One of those two things was wise; the other was not. Now do
you know which was which?
Five years later, that university ministry was totally different.
You could hardly have recognized that it was the same
organization. When I left it, there was a blizzard of paper.
Stacks and boxes and drawers of documents. It was not
neat, nor was it clean. It was chaotic. But, great God, what
an incredibly fresh mess it was! Let loose in the world.
