Truly Satisfied

    How many of you made New Year’s resolutions this year?  How many of you have already broken them?  How many of you didn’t even bother making New Year’s resolutions figuring you would break them anyway?  Yeah, I’m guilty of that last one.

    Among the many things I find fascinating about the human condition is that we seem to be caught in this tug of war–a tug of war between forces which try to tell us “you are perfect just the way you are” and forces which tell us “you will never be happy or satisfied until you change and do this.”  Perhaps you have not noticed this trend in our society and culture, but I assure you, it is there.

    I mean, you don’t have to go very far to hear voices saying things like, “I don’t have to change anything about myself.  I’m fine just as I am.”  Or “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do, I can do whatever I want as long as I’m not hurting anyone.”  If you scroll through the news feeds any given week, you will see at least a story or two about accepting all sorts of body types; accepting people no matter what color they are; accepting people no matter their religion; or accepting people no matter their sexual orientation.  These things are front and center, a lot.

    And yet...even though this is being articulated over and over and over, we are also constantly bombarded with advertisements and even stories which tell us the exact opposite.  I mean for every story on accepting your body type, you probably see two or three stories about appropriate diets; what foods will get you a flat belly; what exercises will tone all your muscles.  For every story you read about how women are beautiful just the way they are, there are more than enough ads out there trying to sell make up and other items to cover up flaws.  Men are challenged to be rugged, handsome, and well cut while at the same time being caring, compassionate, and “in touch with their feminine side.”  And we can’t seem to escape this.  We cannot seem to get out of this back and forth, back and forth reality of folks telling us we are okay and fine; and then other voices telling us we need to improve ourselves and get better.  It can be maddening.

    Those of you who remember Mark Chapman remember that he was a poet, and in one of his books of poetry, he wrote this poem entitled Dis-satisfaction

Take a look–I’ve got it all
A great wife, health
Bank account that’s not small
Yet what is that sporadic, niggling burr
that nestles underneath my saddle?
Is it the ebbing of the physical
or a flaw in my gear box?
Maybe nature’s perverse trick to ruffle my feathers
Or one last long squall before the water calms.
I wrestle with this wisp of unease
It pins me more than not
A twinge of craziness asks
Am I a gerbil on a treadmill?
A captive in a cosmic joke?
A malcontent without a cause?
Is my chain being yanked because I care?
Maybe it is a plague of self absorption?
Blind faith would–could–be a lifeline
But for whatever reason no solace there.
Is the question unanswerable?
A maddening changing of the guard
Truth unacceptable
An accelerating slide down a slope
To a place I don’t want to go.
    What was Mark saying in that poem?  I think, he was saying that despite all the things in his life that he had; despite having wealth and love and possessions; despite living the American dream, there was still something nagging at him.  There was still something causing him discomfort.  There was still something eating at him which could not find satisfaction.

    I think all of us know this feeling.  I think all of us have that gnawing deep in our core–for despite all we have and every time we’ve been told that we are fine just the way we are, we don’t believe it.  We don’t think we have achieved any sort of perfection.  There is still something within us that desires transformation, but we don’t often know what that transformation is.  “Blind faith would–could–be a lifeline, but for whatever reason, no solace there.”

      Here we enter an interesting twist in Mark’s poem, and in the world around us.  For we in the church proclaim a path to deal with such dissatisfaction.  We in the church proclaim a path to solve this back and forth bouncing between feeling fine about ourselves and yet knowing there is something missing.  We in the church believe we have that answer, and I would argue it’s not blind.  It’s tangible, but I will get there in a minute.

    First, I would like to say what the answer is not.  The answer is not come and see what our church is doing.  The answer is not come and see how well our pastor preaches.  The answer is not come and see all of our programs that we have for youth.  The answer is not come and see how good a people we are.  The answer is not come and see all the good things we do.  The answer is not come and see us.

    That might sound strange to your ears–especially since I have been known in my previous years to tell you that we should be doing all sorts of things, and that when people see us doing good things, they will want to do those things too, and then they will join the church.  (How’s that for a run-on sentence!!!)  Yes, I have said such things in the past, but I was wrong.  People do not have life changing experiences–experiences which literally transform a person inwardly and outwardly by coming in contact with a church.  They only have such transformational experiences when coming in contact with Jesus.

    I mean, take a look at our Gospel lesson today from John.  It’s the story of how Jesus began assembling His group of disciples.  Jesus finds Philip and says, “Follow me.”  This is all we have regarding the encounter, but it must have had quite the effect on Philip.  Whatever transpired between Philip and Jesus, it was enough to cause Philip to rush to Nathanael and say, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”  Think about that.  From a simple encounter where Jesus says, “Follow me,” Philip rushes to Nathanael with words about Jesus being the Messiah!  Something deep happened to Philip.  Something very deep indeed.

    And what is Nathanael’s reaction to Philip?  How does Nathanael respond to this change in Philip?  Does he say, “Wow, Philip. I can see that your life has been transformed. I can see that God has done something to you, and my meeting with you has changed my life.  I want to follow Jesus so that I can have the same transformation as you.”?  Was this Nathanael’s reaction?  No.  Not in the least.  Natahanael is skeptical.  Nathanael doesn’t believe Philip.  “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

    Philip responds with the only thing he can, “Come and see.”  Come and see what though?  Well, the answer is obvious.  Come and see Jesus!  The invitation Philip ends up giving is not, “Come and see me.”  The invitation is to come and see Jesus!

    Ah, now, only now, can we see the potential for transformation.  Only now can Nathanael’s skepticism be met.  Nathanael actually does go.  He actually has an encounter with Jesus, and what happens?  What happens when Nathanael comes in contact with the Messiah?  Well, his life is changed.  He comes to believe.  He becomes a disciple.  Philip pointed the way, but Jesus brought about the transformation.  Jesus brought Nathanael to belief. 

    This is important to realize–very important because you and I will never transform anyone.  You and I will never be able to help anyone overcome their dissatisfaction.  You and I will never be able to solve the dilemma of being caught between the forces which tell us we are okay and we need to change.  It is only Jesus who can solve that problem. 

    And how does He do that?  How does He transform us and bring us to a place of satisfaction?  Here is how: by loving us while we are sinners.  By dying for us when we are broken. 

    You see, when we accept that we are sinful, that we are broken, then we know we need to change.  We know that we need to be transformed.  And hopefully, we discover that no amount of material possessions, money, sex, food, clothing, or activities can bring about that transformation.  Many of you know this.  Mark articulated this brilliantly in his poem.  These things will not bring about the deep change necessary.  There will always be that nagging piece deep within that says, “I’m not there yet.  These things haven’t really changed my character.  I am still deeply flawed.”

    But when you encounter Jesus with this frame of heart, something changes within you.  When you have an encounter with Jesus and He looks deep within your heart and He sees your flaws; He sees you as you are, and He still embraces you and loves you, you can’t help but marvel at His love and compassion.  You can’t help but be deeply affected because you know that He is the Messiah.  He is what we should be.  He is what we were made to be before our selfish nature took over.  And He was willing to offer himself in our place to die the death we deserved.  It’s like the child who was caught and knows he’s in trouble.  Who knows he’s done wrong.  Who knows he’s disappointed his parents to no end.  Whose shame is tangible and who expects to receive punishment but instead receives forgiveness along with the words, “You have done wrong, but we will love you because you are our child.”  At that moment, nothing else matters.  Nothing else will ever bring that kind of satisfaction.  You are loved in the midst of your brokenness, and you need nothing else.

    I remember vividly the Sunday before Mark suffered his stroke.  When I asked for prayer requests, he said, “That we may come to understand what you are preaching.”  I hope and pray that I am preaching Jesus.  For it is He who we must point to.  It is He whom we invite people to come and see.  It is He who transforms us and all those whom He comes to.  It is He who came for the sake of the world to bring us such satisfaction.

    For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.  Amen.

Russell Brand, Robin Williams, and the Gospel

I was not going to comment about Robin Williams' suicide.  Many have, and I have nothing to add to their commentary.  Much of what has been shown to me on my Facebook feed has been relatively well thought out, but none of it truly made me think deeply.

Leave it to the Drudge Report to link an article in The Guardian written by Russell Brand.  This article truly drew me in and made me wrestle because it links Williams' death with some of the big questions in life.

I didn't know much about Brand until I read his Wikipedia page--assuming Wikipedia is reliable here.  I found out he and Williams shared much in common.  Both are/were very much tortured souls.  Both, I think, struggle/d with some very tough questions regarding life.  From the article:

It seems that Robin Williams could not find a context. Is that what drug use is? An attempt to anaesthetise against a reality that constantly knocks against your nerves, like tinfoil on an old school filling, the pang an urgent message to a dormant, truer you.

Is it melancholy to think that a world that Robin Williams can’t live in must be broken? To tie this sad event to the overarching misery of our times? No academic would co-sign a theory in which the tumult of our fractured and unhappy planet is causing the inherently hilarious to end their lives, though I did read that suicide among the middle-aged increased inexplicably in 1999 and has been rising ever since. Is it a condition of our era?

...

What platitudes then can we fling along with the listless, insufficient wreaths at the stillness that was once so animated and wired, the silence where the laughter was? That fame and accolades are no defence against mental illness and addiction? That we live in a world that has become so negligent of human values that our brightest lights are extinguishing themselves? That we must be more vigilant, more aware, more grateful, more mindful? That we can’t tarnish this tiny slice of awareness that we share on this sphere amidst the infinite blackness with conflict and hate?

That we must reach inward and outward to the light that is inside all of us? That all around us people are suffering behind masks less interesting than the one Robin Williams wore? Do you have time to tune in to Fox News, to cement your angry views to calcify the certain misery?

What I might do is watch Mrs Doubtfire. Or Dead Poets Society or Good Will Hunting and I might be nice to people, mindful today how fragile we all are, how delicate we are, even when fizzing with divine madness that seems like it will never expire.

I found an echo of this thinking in his stand up show "God Complex" (warning: raunchy and quite blasphemous) when Brand said the following:

Why are they doing this to us?  Why are they positioning our heroes in these meaningless landscapes?  Why are they creating a cultural malaise in which nothing has nutrition; where our food lacks nutrition; where there's an emptiness in my stomach that can't be filled by drugs or fame or money?  Who is it that benefits from this system?  Who benefits from us having a void within ourselves that can never be filled?  Who is it that claims they can fill this void?

It is quite intriguing that Brand answers such questions in three ways: two in his article and one in his show.  1. Escaping by watching movies which have messages.  To enter stories.  2. To be nice to people mindful of our fragility and delicate nature.  3. Worshiping sexuality.

Unfortunately, none of these things satisfy.  None of them.  Show me one person who has had their hunger filled by entering into story after story after story and/or watching movie after movie after movie.

Show me one person who has become satisfied with being nice to people.

Show me one person who has become satisfied with having as many sexual encounters as possible.

They do not exist.  None of these things brings satisfaction, and they all lead to hopelessness.  There is always another story; another person who needs to receive some niceness; another encounter to be had.  There is always a desire which finds temporary fulfillment, but defies satisfaction.  If you place your self-worth in such things, you will only find disappointment.

But such things are the default setting for humankind.  These are the things we automatically search for.  Brand asks who benefits from this system?  (I'd not call it a system; I'd call it our selfish-nature.)  We all do.  We all seek our own benefit.  We all seek our own will to power as Nietzsche called it.  Our selfish gene dominates as Richard Dawkins would say.  And our selfish gene does not become satisfied.  Our will to power is never quenched.  And if that will to power is threatened; if our selfish gene becomes thwarted as our false idols crumble, what happens?

Despair.
Anger.
Frustration.
Hopelessness.
Escapism.
Depression.

What can bring satisfaction?  What can lead us away from the desires for our own will to power?  What can pound the selfish gene into submission so that it cannot dominate others or be easily exploited?

Only the Gospel.
Only God's action through Jesus Christ.

I have gone through this train of thought numerous times in this blog and in my more recent sermons.  I never realized just how the Gospel truly is the hope of humanity as I was caught up in my own will to power; my own selfishness.  I know I was on the path to despair and even hit a bit of depression.  The Gospel changed all that.

I know Robin Williams was a Christian, but I don't know if he grasped the power of the Gospel.  In his comedic routines, I'm not sure he did.  I think he saw Christianity as a set of rules and regulations.  I think Russell Brand does too.  In my estimation, this isn't good.  It shows a failure on the part of the Church to articulate what God has already done.  It shows the Church has been more concerned with advice instead of proclamation.

That proclamation brings lasting change and satisfaction.  It brings hope and peace and joy.

These are things much needed by the world.  Williams and Brand show us that unequivocally.

Not As the World Gives: Sermon on John 14:15-21

(Note: I did not post this sermon last week because I ended up changing the last portion of the sermon drastically on Sunday morning.  What was written was not exactly what was proclaimed.  The sentiment is basically the same, but how one arrived at the final destination was quite different.  A member requested that I post the sermon, and I will do so with the above disclaimer.)

    Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

    I’d like to take some time to unpack this statement this morning, because in all reality, I think many folks’ hearts are troubled.  Many folks are afraid.  I mean, I know Sean Hannity oftentimes tells his listeners, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” but then he goes on and on and on about why your hearts should be troubled and you should be afraid, particularly of one political party.  And of course, those on the other side of the aisle point the fingers right back and say, “Actually, you need to be afraid of them!” They are the ones causing all the problems.”  I’d better stop there before I offend too many other folks.  While this saying of Jesus I think speaks to such matters, there’s a lot of groundwork that needs to be laid before we go too far down this rabbit hole.

    So, therefore, let’s begin with Jesus.  “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives.”  Let’s start by wrestling with this, “What does Jesus mean by giving not as the world gives?”  To grasp this, I think we need to try and see how the world gives.  And to do this, I’d like to read a few snippets from C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  The scene I will read from is about one of the characters named Edmund who has an encounter with the White Witch.  I think you will see its relevance.

    “It is dull, Son of Adam, to drink without eating,” said the Queen presently.  “What would you like best to eat?”
 
    “Turkish Delight, please, your Majesty,” said Edmund.
 
    The Queen let another drop fall from her bottle onto the snow, and instantly there appeared a round box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight.  Each piece was sweet and light to the very center and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.  He was quite warm now, and very comfortable.
 
    While he was eating, the Queen kept asking him questions.  At first, Edmund tried to remember that it is rude to speak with one’s mouth full, but soon he forgot about this and thought only of trying to shovel down as much Turkish Delight as he could, and the more he ate the more he wanted to eat, and he never asked himself why the Queen should be so inquisitive.

    Let’s skip down a little bit.

    At last, the Turkish Delight was all finished and Edmund was looking very hard at the empty box and wishing that she would ask him whether he would like some more.  Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves. But she did not offer him any more.  Instead, she said to him,
 
    “Son of Adam, I should so much like to see your brother and your two sisters.  Will you bring them to see me?’
 
    “I’ll try,” said Edmund, still looking at the empty box.
 
    “Because if you did come again–bringing them with you of course–I’d be able to give you some more Turkish Delight.”

    I’m going to stop reading and just brush through the highlights.  At this point, the White witch begins laying it on thick telling Edmund that if he brings his brother and sisters, she will make him a prince.  She will give him a crown and riches.  She promises him the moon and all the Turkish Delight he can eat.  Of course, if Edmund doesn’t deliver, he won’t receive this stuff or anymore Turkish Delight.  But Edmund is almost beyond thinking.  He has tasted something very sweet, and he wants more.  How badly?  A few short pages later, Edmund is reunited with his sister, Lucy, and he finds out the Queen he ran into was actually the White Witch.  He finds out she is dangerous, but what is his state of mind?

    Edmund was already feeling uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets, and when he heard that the Lady he had made friends with was a dangerous witch he felt even more uncomfortable.  But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight again more than he wanted anything else.

    I want to ask you, do you see any parallels between this work of fiction and the way the world gives and what the world promises?  I hope you do.  I personally can’t help but see them vividly. 

    The world beckons to each and every one of us offering satisfaction.  The world says, “Eat of this fruit.  Taste and see that it is good.”  And it is.  I mean, let’s just take one example.  How many of you, like me, were extremely proud of your first paycheck?  I remember receiving it while working for the Banquete Grain Coop.  I had worked long hours, and the check was rather large.  I was happy.  I had tasted the fruits of my labor, and I liked it.  I liked it a lot.  Holding that check offered me promise: I could buy CDs of my favorite music.  I could take someone out on a date.  I could afford to drive my parents’ car to the places I wanted to go.  I could go to movies.  A whole new world was opening up.

    How many of us become delighted with such a thing?  And so we strive to get a better job so that we can get more of that precious commodity of money.  As we earn more, we spend more.  Our standards rise with our income.  Never satisfied, we long for more, and the world offers us more and more promise.  We stuff our faces with the Turkish Delight of such things, but we aren’t satisfied.  We always want more.

    And we oftentimes aren’t aware that there will come a day of reckoning.  There will come a time when the world sees that we are enamored with what we have, and it will use that to its advantage.  Later in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the White Witch demands Edmund’s life.  The world oftentimes demands ours.

    “How so?” you might ask.  Oh, it starts innocently enough.  “Make yourself invaluable to your company so that you have job security.”  And so we work hard–oftentimes harder than we have to.  “Can you stay a few hours late this week?  This job really needs touching up, and you are the best one we have.”  And so we stay.  “Can you work half a day on Saturday?  We really need this project completed.  Don’t worry, we will take care of you.”  The extra money rolls in, and we rejoice.  It will help us pay down a little bit of debt and perhaps go on a vacation.  But who then pays? Do children miss their parent?  Does a spouse or best friend have to cancel a date?  The corporate ladder gets climbed, status gets added, a sense of self-importance rises.  The world demands more and more.  We pay it.  Working and slaving as we see that one day retirement can take place–we will have a nest egg.  But we are never sure that it is enough.  We’re never quite peaceful about it.  There is still that nagging hunger to get more.  Finally, we are too worn out to work to get more.  We’re too tired and weak, so we stop.  We try to rest.

    But then what does the world do at that point?  Here’s what I have begun to see–the world gives, and then it does its best to take it all back.  The world robs you of your family and personal time to pad your bank account and then seeks to drain it dry leaving you penniless when you die.  Don’t believe me?

    How many of you who worked for many years find medical bills eating up your income?  How many of you know someone who slaved for years who are now spending almost everything they have on nursing homes or home health care?  Prices of food, fuel, and shelter continue to rise.  Taxes continue to go up.  When you die, your family has to pay for funeral expenses, and then the government will come in to collect its share from those who inherit whatever you had left to pass on.  Yes, the world gives, but then it wants a whole lot in return.  It wants to dominate you and take you for all that it once gave to you.  And it never leaves you at peace.  Never.

    “My peace I leave with you.  My peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

    Jesus stands in stark contrast to how the world operates.  At first, it may not look like it.  In fact, when you first look at Jesus and look at all that He says, it is quite frightening.  The world offers the sweetness of Turkish Delight–it looks appealing; it tastes sweet, but it never satisfies.  Jesus offers death.  “Let anyone who wishes to follow me deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me.  For anyone who wishes to save their life will lose it, but those who lose their life for my sake and the sake of the Gospel will find it.” 

    These are not comforting words.  They seem a very bitter pill to swallow.  The Turkish Delights come in a pretty box; the food Jesus offers comes dressed in a cross.  “Come and die,” Jesus says.  “Die to everything the world says you should have.  Die to finding your self-worth in your job, in your bank account, in your possessions, in your race and ethnicity and all those other things the world says give you satisfaction.  Do not eat of the sweetness of the world, feast on me.”

    It sounds crazy.  Completely crazy.  It’s impossible for us to do such a thing.  Literally, it’s impossible for us to die to these things because they are our default settings.  We’ve been taught to be productive citizens.  We train our children to be good producers and consumers.  We buy into the system to the very core.  And we can’t escape it.

    So Jesus says, “You can’t live the life you are supposed to live.  You can’t die to yourself, so I will die for you!”  And He does.  On the cross, He dies and pours Himself out for the world.

    “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life.  For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world, but to save it!”

    And we may say, “Yes, I believe this!  Yes, I believe that Jesus died for me.  I believe that Jesus is the Savior.  I believe that Jesus lived the life that I couldn’t live, but why don’t I have peace?  Why am I still so hungry for what the world gives?  Why do I still have the emptiness inside?”

    Think about the deepest desire of your heart.  What is it?  Be honest with yourself.  What does your heart dream about?  Safety?  Security?  To be admired?  I told you before, mine was to be seen as a great pastor and to receive recognition.  If these things are at the center of your heart, then you are simply trying to work out your own salvation.  You are simply trying to justify yourself and rely upon yourself.  You may cognitively believe that Jesus died for you, but it hasn’t sunk into the deep recesses of your heart, and that’s why you still hunger.  You are still pursuing the things of the world.

    “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not be afraid.”  How can we reach this point?  How can we reach the place where we are not afraid of the future or our hearts are troubled?  Not by anything we can do, but by what Christ has done.  He has already accomplished all.  He has already justified you.  He has already given you worth.  He has already prepared a place for you.  He has promised to take care of you.  It is finished.  Put your trust in Jesus, and He will pour Himself into you.  He will fill you.  He will give you peace, and unlike the world, He will never, ever try to take it away.  It’s yours forever.  Amen.