Mary’s Song

November 30, 2009

A Sermon preached at Southminster
November 29, 2009
by Marci Auld Glass

Luke 1:39-55

Micah 5:2-5a


We heard a few verses from Micah’s prophecy this morning. “From you, O Bethlehem, shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient of days!”

Remember that when Micah’s audience would have first heard this prophecy, they didn’t know about Jesus. They were likely in exile or just unpacking their suitcases on their return from exile, so the idea of a powerful and useful ruler coming from little Bethlehem would have seemed far fetched.

And probably not very inspiring. We don’t even want to hear such prophecies today. We want to hear about power that will dominate! We want our leaders to come from Big Places and have Big Influence.

What if your prophecy today said, “From you, O Weiser, shall come forth one who is to rule…”

Nothing against Weiser, I hear it is a nice place. But it doesn’t really inspire Big Things. It is just a town, where people like you and I live.

But, while we are looking to New York, Los Angeles, or to the Statehouse downtown, Micah is desperately trying to get us to refocus our attention in another direction.

He wants us to look for someone who will stand in God’s strength rather than in their own strength, or the strength of weapons, wealth, or influence.

This is Good News because this leader will feed his flock. The people will be secure. He shall be the one of peace.

From little Bethlehem, the one camel town.

There is no indication that the people who heard Micah’s prophecy paid it much mind. “Yeah, Micah. We’ll see about that. Bethlehem, hah! And I suppose, while we’re making crazy predictions, that this leader will be born to an unwed teenager too. That Micah is a funny guy!”

But that is, of course, exactly how God works.

Again, and again, and again, God confounds our understanding for how things should be, for how the story is supposed to play out.

It is worth remembering. Because even now, 2,000 years later, we still seem to be surprised that the son of God would be born in a stable to a teenage mother and not born in the halls of power. We still seem to live as if nothing good could come from little Bethlehem, or Weiser, for that matter. We still live as if the Divine story is not going to intersect in our little Boise.

The author of Luke’s gospel seemed to have believed the prophet Micah. He recognized the leader who would “be the one of peace” in the person of Jesus.

And he tells us the story to make sure we see the connections too, to make sure we, also, see the good news from little Bethlehem.

For Luke, the birth of Jesus is both mundane and every day as a teenager in Nowhereville giving birth and also cosmic, earth shattering, game changing as the power of God defeating the powers of this world.

But Mary doesn’t know this quite yet.

Immediately preceding our passage, Mary has gotten some news. The angel has appeared and told her not to be afraid. She’s going to give birth to the son of God.

The angel doesn’t give her the details about how this will all work out, but does tell her that nothing is impossible with God. Which is great, really.

But I wonder what Mary was thinking after the angel left.

How can I tell my parents?

How can I tell my fiancé?

What are people going to say?

Why didn’t the angel appear to them?

So this unmarried pregnant teenager leaves town.

With haste.

And heads to visit her distant cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth is one of our many barren women in scripture. She is gifted with a late life pregnancy and the child in her womb will be a great prophet. John the baptizer.

It seems that the best place for a pregnant teenager to take stock of her situation is with a barren woman. Mary needed to go to a barren woman to appreciate an unplanned pregnancy.

Have you had news like that? I imagine you haven’t had a visit from the angel Gabriel, but have you received news made you stop and really take stock of your situation?

I was visiting with a woman at Thanksgiving dinner who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. After three surgeries, chemotherapy, and now radiation therapy, she is beginning to feel that her life is returning to her. But she said that one of the blessings of the last months is how her friends responded.

She said that life is busy and that we don’t always take the time to spend with the people we love because we get caught up in the routines of our busy-ness. But she said these months had been a blessing because her friends had stopped and taken time to share their gifts with her. In addition to the practical gifts of meals and care for her young children while she was facing treatment, they also gave of their very specific gifts. A wigmaker made her a wig. A calligrapher painted some inspiring words on her wall. An herbalist made her a batch of healing herbs. She spoke of how powerful those gifts were to her, and how they had mattered as much, if not more, than the chemo, because these people who loved her stopped and took time to give her something intended just for her.

It made me think of Mary and Elizabeth, giving each other particular gifts that nobody else could give. Mary’s visit must have given comfort to a woman who had been in seclusion. And Elizabeth’s child leapt within her womb and she gave Mary a blessing—blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

Think how powerful that blessing would have seemed to Mary—to have the message of the angel confirmed by a real person she knew and could trust.

Between the two of them, Elizabeth and Mary, bearers of both the Messenger and the Message, they were able to support each other in ways that other people could not. Older formerly barren woman and younger unwed pregnant teenager—able to celebrate together over their miraculous pregnancies.

Mary’s reply, Mary’s gift, to Elizabeth’s blessing is a prayer, a hymn, a poem of thanksgiving, promise and justice. And it isn’t just a gift for Elizabeth, or just a prayer for Mary. This is a prayer for all of creation—from generation to generation. After stopping to take stock of her situation, to meet with Elizabeth and get some perspective, Mary seems to live into the cosmic nature of her reality.

“My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant!”

She goes on to describe the great things that God has done for her.

God has shown strength.

He has scattered the proud.

He has brought the powerful down from their thrones.

God has lifted up the lowly and filled the hungry with good things.

Her prophecy is even stronger and, perhaps, even stranger than Micah’s. Because, of course, we know that the proud have not yet been scattered. The powerful are still on their thrones. The lowly are still low and the hungry have not yet been filled.

But Mary puts her prophecy in present tense, not future tense.

Maybe because she sees the future becoming the present in the reality that God has chosen her to bear God’s own son, the Messiah. Mary’s song proclaims the very reality and promise that she embodies.[1]

As we move toward Christmas, may Mary’s song be a reminder to us that the reality that was inaugurated in a birth in a stable in Nowhereville, Judea is still in process. We are called to sing her song and to live our lives showing we believe it to be true. If God would choose to be born to a teenage mother in the backwater of Judea, what more might God have in store for us? May the Advent, the Coming, of God turn our lives and our world upside down so that Mary’s song may be true for all.



[1]Chuck Campbell. Feasting on the Word, Year C, volume 1, page 95.

1 Comment | Luke 1:39-55, Micah 5:2-5a | Permalink
Posted by marciglass

Christ the King

November 23, 2009

A Sermon preached at Southminster
November 22, 2009

Acts 12:1-19
Psalm 18:1-6, 16-19, 46-50

Today is Christ the King Sunday. This is also the end of our liturgical year. Our new year will begin next Sunday with the first day of Advent. In some ways, it is appropriate that our church year should build toward this. The course of our journey of faith should lead us to declaring that Jesus is Lord, that his kingdom will have no end, and that the Kingdom of God will have final say against the powers and principalities of this world.

But this language can be uncomfortable for those of us who don’t give power to earthly kings.

What does it mean for us to declare Christ as King? And to more than declare it—what does it mean for us to live as if that is true?

One of the other things we do at the end of a year is to look back, to remember the year that has been. And I think it has been a pretty good year in the life of this particular congregation—despite the deaths of long loved members, we have welcomed new members and stayed strong in the midst of a frightening economy.

But for American Christianity, overall, I’m not sure this is a year we’ll look back on and celebrate. And I think it stems from some confusion about what it means for Christ to be King.

Here’s an illustration. After the tragedy at Fort Hood a few weeks ago, people were saying that the shooter, who happens to be a Muslim, claimed to be a Muslim ahead of being an American. The commentators went on to say that he should have put his country ahead of his ideology.

If ideology was behind his horrible actions, then I would argue he should have just put his ideology aside altogether. Our world doesn’t have room for any ideology that is life-taking instead of life-giving.

I am certainly not seeking to justify violence, terrorism, or whatever was behind his motives. What if he had been a Christian? Would people have said he should have put being American ahead of being a Christian? I am troubled by the idea that we should be Americans ahead of being Christians. Who is our King?

Where do our loyalties lie?

In the early years of the faith, Christians weren’t allowed to serve, and wouldn’t serve, in the Roman Army because the soldiers were required to worship the emperor and to make sacrifices for him.

Over time the church moderated its stance, allowing people to serve in the defense of their country as long as they weren’t forced to commit idolatry. And when the emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, the distinction between God and Country blurred to such a level that we still, 2,000 years later, are seeking to answer the question—who is our king? Who do we serve?

Clearly, millions of faithful Christians have managed, over the years, to serve God and country, but I encourage us to be careful when we automatically connect the two.

For example, I know some of you are upset about the phrase “happy holidays” replacing “Merry Christmas”. Certainly, when we are greeting other Christians, the appropriate greeting is “Merry Christmas”. The birth of Christ is our reason for this approaching season.

But I suggest to you that if our government were to sanction “Merry Christmas”, it would blur the line between God and Country in ways that are helpful to neither. For one thing, not all Americans are Christians. And as we value our freedom in this country to worship a King who was born in a stable, so we value the freedom of others to worship differently.

Additionally, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Good News available to us, and to the world, through the person of Jesus of Nazareth, is MUCH, MUCH bigger and better than any political ideology of any nation. Even ours. Having our government explicitly claim Christianity seems an attempt to confine God to our human political aims. And no matter what you think about our government in DC under any President, they do not speak for God.

Our scripture passages today are from our Year of the Bible readings, and while they aren’t explicitly about Christ as King, they are about the implications of living as if Christ is our King.

Peter is arrested by King Herod. He doesn’t get in trouble with the religious establishment—the Presbytery or the General Assembly. He’s arrested by the government. Claiming that Jesus was Lord had very real political implications for Peter and the early church. Because the Emperor was Lord and King. Claiming Jesus as Lord was, as far as the Romans were concerned, a subversive political statement—not just a religious claim. Herod assigns 16 soldiers to guard him, which seems a little excessive to me. But what do I know? Clearly this is a prisoner Herod either thinks is dangerous or is likely to try to escape.

But in this story, the Kingdom of God is too strong to be contained by walls, locked gates, and Roman soldiers.

On one level, Peter knew this. He’d been preaching that very message. In chapter 5, after they’ve been busted out of prison the first time, he says, “We must obey God rather than any human authority. The God of our ancestors raised up Jesus…and we are witnesses to these things…”

So Peter knew what it meant to proclaim Jesus is King. He’d been thrown in prison for doing exactly that.

But did you notice in the text that Peter seems a little surprised to be rescued? He thinks he’s having a vision. He can’t quite believe his own eyes as they pass through locked doors.

And then he goes to a house where the church has gathered to pray for him. And they don’t believe it either. They are praying for him to be released, but when he shows up, they think it must be a ghost.

This text illustrates well how the power of God, how the Kingdom of God, is so much bigger than any human understanding of it—even humans who have devoted their lives to the proclamation of the Kingdom. We just can’t get our minds around it. The divine mystery defies our narrow imaginations.

But we should still try to seek the Kingdom of God. It is right for us to gather at the end of each Christian year, to proclaim Jesus is King, and to consider how our life reflects our claim that God is Lord of our lives.

But we should also do so cautiously. We should be careful to equate the Gospel with any human institution or political party. We should be careful to not confuse the goals of any government, no matter how well intentioned, with the much bigger work of the Kingdom of God.

And, like Peter and the followers who had gathered to pray, we should proclaim the gospel and pray for it, and then we should expect to see things change.

We should expect to see the lion and the lamb lie down together.

We should keep looking for people to work out their differences to build something bigger than our individual desires.

We should train our children to make stands for justice.

We should expect to see love between people that is stronger than any illness or death that might try to get in the way.

Our reading from psalm 18 is attributed to David after the lord had delivered him from his enemies. And it seems to fit with Peter’s deliverance from jail. But I hope we’ll see it in the broader context of following Christ as our king. Because when we look at it that way, it isn’t just delivery from the people we don’t like or agree with.

It is the delivery of the entire creation from the systems that work against justice. The promise of the coming Kingdom of God gives us hope in the face of despair because it shows us that God is ever for us.

Hear the words of the Psalmist again:

He reached down from on high, he took me;

he drew me out of mighty waters.

He delivered me from my strong enemy,

and from those who hated me;

for they were too mighty for me.

They confronted me in the day of my calamity;

but the LORD was my support.

He brought me out into a broad place;

he delivered me, because he delighted in me.

It is appropriate to dedicate our pledges on Christ the King Sunday. Because where we place our time, talent, and money makes a claim about whom we serve. God is inviting us all to be tangible signs of God’s kingdom on earth! In a few minutes, we’ll be collecting the rest of our pledge cards and also our time and talent cards. I invite you to do something for God’s kingdom that you haven’t done before. You don’t need to sign your name to the time and talent form, unless you want me to contact you about it. This is for you. If you’ve never gone with us when we’ve walked through the neighborhood inviting people to join us, then maybe this is the year. If you’ve never served as liturgist, or usher, then maybe this is the year. If you’ve never helped with a mission project, maybe this is the year. Whether it is teaching Sunday school, feeding the homeless, serving on a committee, or pulling weeds from flower beds as our wonderful volunteers did yesterday, I invite you to do something for the kingdom of God in this coming year.

I think that one of the reasons Christianity has been struggling in America is because we’ve forgotten what our message is. It seems that all Christians are known for anymore is what they’re against. Think about it—if you were to ask non-Christians what we believe, they would likely say we were against rock and roll, against abortion, against gay marriage—the list goes on. Because I think Christians have spent more time saying what they’re AGAINST.

But that isn’t the message the world needs to hear. The gospel of Jesus Christ, the Kingdom of Jesus Christ—that’s the message the world needs to hear. Listen to Jesus’ words from Luke, when he quotes Isaiah:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

That is what Jesus was FOR.

And we are invited to be his witnesses to the very end of the earth—all the way to Kuna, even—to share that good news. It will require us to expand our imaginations, because God’s Kingdom is so much more than we can dream it to be. It will require us to be aware of the way our culture tries to equate God’s kingdom with the kingdoms of this world. It will require us to think about and put into words, what it is that we are fighting FOR, not just against. And, like Peter in prison, praying for release, we will need to have eyes open to recognize where God is at work in our lives, unlocking our chains, opening locked doors, and setting us on the path so we may proclaim the kingdom of God. Amen.

Leave a Comment » | Acts 12:1-19, Christ the King, Psalm 18 | Permalink
Posted by marciglass

"Money Can’t Buy Me (God’s) Love"

November 20, 2009

Acts 8:9-25
A Sermon preached at Southminster
November 15, 2009

Our text today takes place in the midst of both an exciting and a scary time for the new church. After the passage Ruth preached on last week from Acts 4 about testifying, the followers of Jesus do some amazing things. The authorities are not happy. These upstarts come in, working miracles and preaching of the power of Jesus. Jesus, the guy these authorities had killed.

They try to stop them.

They ask them politely to stop.

They flog them.

They put them in jail.

But none of it works. The apostles rejoice in prayer as they are being flogged. God breaks them out of jail. More and more and more people follow them.


But not everyone understands their message. And, as people are wont to do when they don’t understand someone, they assume they are wrong—it couldn’t be a problem with us?!—and they start giving negative reports about Stephen. He was full of grace and power. And he gives a fairly succinct history of the Hebrew people to the authorities when they bring him in for questioning. He probably would have been okay with that, but then he gives them one, last, paragraph. It is in Acts, chapter 7:51, if you want to follow along.

“You stiff necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do. Which of the prophets did your ancestors NOT persecute?

You are the ones that received the law as ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it!”

He literally puts them in a frenzy—they were enraged and ground their teeth at him—and they stone him. To death. And then Saul enters the text, approving of Stephen’s death. The apostles are scattered. And Saul begins ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off men and women, committing them to prison for being followers of Christ.

So, this is the context for the passage we heard this morning. But before we get to today’s text, let’s pause for a moment in prayer for those who still, to this day, are persecuted for their faith, for speaking out in testimony for what God has shown to them.

Let us pray:

God, we pray for the courage to testify, but the reality is that speaking out for you, for justice, for inclusion, for peace, for human rights, and for the other issues for your gospel compels us to advocate—the reality is that it can be dangerous. For the Christians around the globe who, even today, are at risk if bibles are found in their homes, we pray for safety and for courage to prevail. For the prophets who tirelessly call your church to remember its’ calling and face critique from within the church for their troubles, we pray for courage to prevail. Give us ears to hear what the Spirit is saying to the church through the voices of your prophets. We give you thanks that we can come to worship you in freedom and peace. We are comfortable, but we seek to be alive. Give us the confidence to take your message of love, of welcome, of grace, to a hurting world in need of something only you can provide.

Amen.

So, Phillip has left Jerusalem and headed to Samaria. The crowds listened to him with great eagerness—perhaps the woman at the well had already told them about Jesus—and he healed the paralyzed and the lame and cast out unclean spirits.


And then we meet a man named Simon. He is not the same person who is Simon Peter. This Simon was a magician. He had quite a following in Samaria. They liked his magic and figured that his magic was a sign that his power came from God. And it appears that Simon did nothing to disabuse them of their mistake.

This text, at the least, should be a reminder to us to be careful of a crowd’s tendency to follow a charismatic leader. Because not all leaders are the same. Simon seemed to be gathering crowds to bring himself more power. Phillip was drawing people to Jesus. He wasn’t preaching the gospel for personal power and fame. He was preaching the gospel despite the personal risk he was facing from Saul and the authorities.

But even Simon leaves his magic show and follows Phillip. Simon knew fake signs and wonders. That was his job. When he encountered real signs and wonders, however, he left his 3 card monty on the street, was baptized, and followed Phillip to learn more about Jesus.

Phillip was so successful in Samaria that reinforcements come in to help bring the Spirit to these new converts with the laying on of hands.

Simon wanted to get some of that and he offered them money and said, “give me this power so that everyone on whom I lay my hands can have the Holy Spirit”.

Now, Simon doesn’t fare well here. Phillip says:

(Hear Beatles singing “Can’t buy me love…can’t buy me love….can’t buy me love…”)

No, Phillip actually says,

“may your silver perish with you because you thought you could obtain God’s gift with money!”


And commentators through the ages don’t seem to like Simon either. Do you know what the word is for the buying or selling of church favors or offices? Simony. We even named it after our Simon of Samaria.

And maybe Simon was a bad guy. He’d been a huckster magician before Phillip showed up, after all. Perhaps he wanted to buy this power so he could use it for himself.


But I wonder if he just thought that was how the world worked. If you want something, you buy it. I mean, he has a point. There isn’t much out there that in the world that is free. I wonder if Phillip was too quick to presume Simon’s motives. Perhaps he could have said, “Simon, I know that your experience of the world is that nothing is free, that you have to buy and earn your honor, your prestige, your standing, everything. But that is yet another illustration of the power of God in Jesus Christ. The Kingdom of God functions under different rules. God’s Spirit is not something we earn. It is a gift, given freely out of the deep and unknowable mystery of God. So put away your money. Better yet, give it away, lest you think it is something on which you can rely. Money can’t buy you God’s love.”

I am sure the Stewardship and Finance Committee is shaking their heads and wondering if I remember that it is Stewardship season. And I do. I know that this may seem an odd text to preach during Stewardship season. But maybe not.


Perhaps it is good to be reminded that we aren’t pledging money so that we can have God’s power.


Perhaps it is good to be reminded that we aren’t pledging money so that we can buy God’s love or God’s favor.

Perhaps we need to be reminded, like Simon needed to be taught, that money can get in our way. That it can make us rely on our own skills and resources and keep us from relying on God.

Stewardship, while it is about building a budget, is not only about that. It is our response to this gift we’ve been given from God in Jesus the Christ.

Stewardship is what we do with what we’ve been given. We could be like Simon, pre-conversion, using our money, charisma, and talents to attract great crowds of followers and great TV ratings. Or, we could be like Phillip and the apostles of the early church, who gave all they had—including their good standing in the community and their physical safety—to follow Jesus.

Stewardship is how we say thank you to God. That is why we have the offering in the service after the sermon—because our offering of ourselves and our resources is a response to God’s word in our lives. We don’t give money in order to hear God’s Word to us. It is our response.

How different would Simon’s experience have been if he had received the power of the Holy Spirit and then offered his money in gratitude and thanks?

Maybe all the commentators are right and Simon was only following Phillip to learn his magic tricks, wanting to harness the power of God for his own ambition. If so, Phillip was surely correct to call him on his wickedness.

But I hope that he just was too new to this crazy world of grace and didn’t know any better. I hope that his prayer was sincere at the end of Phillip’s speech,

“Pray for me to the Lord, that nothing of what you have said may happen to me.”

I pray that Simon was able to get his mind around this new paradigm of grace, where the real power for change in the world is not for sale.

I pray that we can get our minds around that paradigm too. Because the lobbyists are out there buying political favor left and right. Because Hollywood and the advertising world often sell us lies about beauty, success, and power. Because we often live as if money will buy us love.

But here is the good news. God’s love does not need to be purchased or earned. It has been given to each of us, and to all creation, in the unfathomable generosity of the God who created us. How will you respond to the gift you’ve been given?

Leave a Comment » | Acts 8:9-25, Stewardship | Permalink
Posted by marciglass

Time for the Lord to Act

November 9, 2009

2 Kings 18 and 19
A Sermon preached at Southminster
November 1, 2009

Scripture text:

Narrator:

Hezekiah was 25 years old when he began to reign. He did what was right in the sight of the Lord, just as his ancestor David had done.

For he held fast to the Lord; he did not depart from following him but kept the commandments the Lord commanded Moses.

The Lord was with him; wherever he went, he prospered. He rebelled against the King of Assyria and would not serve him.

In the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah, King Sennacherib of Assyria came up against all the fortified cities of Judah and captured them.

Sennacherib sent his officials—the Tartan, the Rabsaris, and the Rabshakeh—to Hezekiah, saying,

Rabshakeh: (toward Hezekiah)

“Thus says the great king, the king of Assyria.

On what do you base this confidence of yours? Do you think that mere words are strategy and power for war? On whom do you now rely, now that you have rebelled against me?”

Narrator:

Then the Rabshakeh stood and called out in a loud voice in the language of Judah,

Rabshakeh: (toward congregation)

“Hear the word of the King of Assyria!

Thus says the king: ‘Do not let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to deliver you out of my hand.

Do not let Hezekiah make you rely on the Lord by saying, “the Lord will surely deliver us, and this city will not be given into the hand of the King of Assyria”.

Do not listen to Hezekiah; for thus says the King of Assyria: Make your peace with me and come out to me; then every one of you will eat from your own vine and your own fig tree, and drink water from your own cistern…that you may live and not die.

Do not listen to Hezekiah when he misleads you by saying, “The Lord will deliver us.” Has any of the gods of the nations ever delivered its land out of the hand of the King of Assyria? Who among all the gods of the countries have delivered their countries out of my hand, that the Lord should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?”

Narrator:

But the people were silent and answered him not a word, for the king’s command was “do not answer him.”

When King Hezekiah heard the words of the King of Assyria, he tore his clothes covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of the Lord.

And he sent his officials to the prophet Isaiah, son of Amoz. They said to Isaiah, “thus says Hezekiah,

Hezekiah:

This day is a day of distress, of rebuke, and of disgrace; It may be that the Lord your God heard all the words of the Rabshakeh, whom his master has sent to mock the living God, and will rebuke the words that the Lord your God has heard; therefore lift up your prayer for the remnant that is left.”

Narrator:

Isaiah said to them,

Isaiah:

“say to your master, “thus says the Lord.

“Do not be afraid because of the words you have heard, with which the servants of the king of Assyria have reviled me. I myself will put a spirit in him, so that he shall hear a rumor and return to his own land; I will cause him to fall by the sword in his own land.”

Narrator:

Hezekiah prayed before the Lord, and said,

Hezekiah:

“O Lord, the God of Israel, who are enthroned above the cherubim, you are God, you alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth.

Incline your ear, O Lord, and hear;

open your eyes, O Lord, and see;

hear the words of Sennacherib which he has sent to mock the living God.

Truly O Lord, the kings of Assyria have laid waste the nations and their lands, and have hurled their gods into the fire, though they were no gods but the work of human hands—wood and stone—and so they were destroyed.

So now, O Lord our God, save us, I pray you, from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O Lord, are God alone.”

Narrator:

Then Isaiah, son of Amoz sent to Hezekiah, saying,

Isaiah:

“Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel; I have heard your prayer to me about King Sennacherib of Assyria.”

Narrator:

The word of the Lord.


Sermon:

In our Year of the Bible readings, your mind has likely gone numb with the sheer number of the kings of Judah and Israel. And it doesn’t help that their names are all variations of each others—Jeroboam, Jehoram, Jehu, Jumpin’ Jehosephat!

When I first read the Kings narrative to my kids a few years ago, I remember what a relief it was to get to Hezekiah. After reading through this whole narrative of 1st and 2nd Kings, where king after king is more evil in the sight of the Lord than the king before, where Kings refuse to follow the Lord, worship false gods, lead the people in wickedness—after a while, it’s a little depressing.

But then King Hezekiah shows up. Hezekiah led the people into confession. Turned them back to God. Cleared away the temples to the false gods. Re-established the practices of the people. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord.

It was such a relief to hear about a king that did the right thing, whatever his motives. My kids even noticed. “Mom. Did you just say that this king did what was RIGHT in the eyes of the Lord?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Does this mean that things are going to get better for the people then?”

“Well….”

“When they did what was wicked, they get punished. So if they do what’s right, things should be good, right?”

Whose bright idea was it for me to read the Bible to my kids?

With great fear and trepidation, I read on in the story. For a short time—like 3 verses in chapter 18—things went well. God was with them and they whooped up on the Philistines and Hezekiah decided not to obey the King of Assyria.

Bold move. BIG king with the BIG name of BIG Assyria vs the 39 year old—let’s call that age YOUNG, shall we—39 year old YOUNG king of LITTLE Judah.

And then Sennacherib starts talking smack about the Lord at the gates of Jerusalem. He tells the people—in Hebrew, no less, to make sure they’d understand him—that they are just plain silly to rely on their God. Didn’t they see how all of the “gods” of the other towns failed to protect them as he burned their cities and carted them all off to exile. He tells them lies about their God, about their King, and about how well they will be treated if they walk away without a fight.

And Hezekiah orders the people not to respond to Sennacherib’s taunts. The Assyrian rant is met with silence. They stand their ground in silence.

How deafening must that silence have been?

Picture this. You are one of the few Hebrew people who have not yet been carted off to exile. You are standing on the wall of Jerusalem, looking out over the Assyrian army. You have a stick and some rocks. They have cavalry, shields and swords. You are so non-threatening to this King that he is making jokes. He is enjoying this. You are a mouse to his cat.

During this silence, which your King has commanded, what are you thinking?

What can this kid Hezekiah do? My own vine, fig tree and cistern? Sounds pretty good to me…

I hear Babylon is nice this time of year.

Boy, how I wish I would have waited to remodel my kitchen.

Wouldn’t NOW be a good time for God to do something?

Luckily for the people, standing with knocking knees on the wall of Jerusalem, Hezekiah remembered God. He tells the prophet Isaiah to lift up a prayer for the remnant that is left. Then Hezekiah prays to God, making clear that he does not share Sennacherib’s comparison of the one God to all of those other false gods of wood and stone. And then, Hezekiah reminds God that the people have not forgotten the covenant. They are only a remnant of the covenant people. But, nonetheless, it is time for the Lord to act to protect the remnant.

Hezekiah doesn’t ask for this for himself –“Please God save us because I like my lifestyle here and because I’ll look like a fool if you don’t”.

He doesn’t even only ask it for the people in stunned silence on the wall. This isn’t about pity or favoritism or homeland security.

Hezekiah prays for deliverance so that all the kingdoms of the earth will know that the Lord God is God alone. Hezekiah can go into the house of the Lord and pray because he KNOWS what the Rabshakeh does not know. All of those other gods were wood and stone, but the God of Israel called the people together in covenant and this God, the one God, listens to the people when they call. What does the Rabshakeh know about being in a relationship with God? Clearly, nothing.

Our passage leaves us with a bit of a cliffhanger. I hate to give anything away, but since you have your own Bibles, I guess you can find out what happens to Sennacherib on your own.

I’ll tell you what doesn’t happen.

Lightning does not come out of the sky, smiting Sennacherib and his Rabshakeh where they stand.

The 126 people left inside the city walls do not leave Helms Deep and demolish all of the Orks or Assyrians.


Aslan does not show up at the last minute and eat the King of Assyria.


Dumbledore does not return to save Hezekiah.

Perhaps that’s what would happen if J.R.R. Tolkein, C. S. Lewis or J. K. Rowling were telling the story of H. E. Zekiah.

But then this would be fiction. about a god of wood or stone.

But it isn’t. This is the story of God’s people in relationship with the one God. And this might be a shining moment for the people.

As we know, God’s people don’t have a lot of shining moments in the biblical text. Or in the texts of our lives, for that matter. We are, shall we say, people who err. We ignore God’s commandments, we violate the image of God in others and ourselves, accept lies as truth, exploit neighbor and nature, and threaten death to the planet entrusted to our care.

Yet God acts with justice and mercy to redeem creation.

And how did God act? In this brief shining moment when the people remember their end of the covenant and pray to God, turn to God for help, what happens?

a spirit of a rumor….

My children, needless to say, were a little disappointed that after all that smack talking by the Rabshakeh, all God did to show God’s awesomeness was to send a spirit of a rumor so that Sennacherib would be killed back home.

“So their victory was that the Assyrian army left?”

“yeah, pretty much.”

While this was somewhat lost on my children, whose lives have thankfully not been besieged too much, I could understand why Judah would count this as a victory.

Haven’t there been times in our lives when enemies are at our gates? You stand there, knees knocking, ready for the assault, and it doesn’t come. You peek out between your fingers, only to find that they have turned around and are leaving. You have been delivered—not in a way that makes you look powerful and successful—but in a way that allows you to enjoy another day.

God listened to the cries of the people. It was time for the Lord to act. The Lord acted. But not perhaps in the way we would have scripted it. Israel was not restored to power and glory. Remnant is the operative word to describe them from this point on, but isn’t being a remnant better than total extinction?

It was time for the Lord to act, and act God did, but unfortunately, it is hard to keep God to the script. The script I want to write is one where other people’s wickedness is punished and our faithfulness, our one shining moment, is rewarded.

Instead, God’s script is full of instances where God acts for God’s people, but never in the way we could have predicted or would have requested.

And thank God for that. The one God became flesh and invited us to join him at this table, we who should never have been invited. God listened to the cries of God’s people and it was time for the Lord to act. We will come to this table to celebrate the One God, whom we worship, who hears our cries, who became one of us, and who moves among the church today, setting us free to accept ourselves and to love God and neighbor.

Amen.

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Posted by marciglass

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