July 30, 2017
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
Opening harmonica: I Surrender All
One of my mentors--and among the wisest people I know--a man by the name of Eugene Peterson—wrote a book one time called, A Long Obedience In the Same Direction, where he says:
We live in a world that begins with the assumption that anything worthwhile can be acquired at once--assumes that if something can be done at all, it can be done quickly--efficiently. It’s because our attention spans have been shortened—conditioned by thirty-second commercials—the result of which is that it is not difficult (in our kind of world) to get somebody interested in the message of the gospel; (but) it is terrifically difficult to sustain that interest.[1] In other words, nobody wants to sign up for a long apprenticeship—a long obedience--because if it’s going to take too long, well, count us out…
And I believe Eugene is right. See, the world you and I live in, is one where everybody’s in a hurry--everybody wants a shortcut--wants the app that gets us “instant credit,” or a rocket mortgage--allows us to have “snap chats”—and so we become beyond impatient for results. Ten years ago, businesses were told that their window for getting back to a customer who had a complaint was (anybody care to guess?)--ten days; today—ten years later--it’s ten minutes. Or take this one—you text somebody—and you’re waiting for them to reply—how long before you get mad and decide they don’t care about you? (And, by the way, men tend to check their phones twice as often when they’re waiting—that’s because we’re pathetic!) Or spiritually speaking—the way all this impatience shakes out--is that we’ve adopted a lifestyle of “spiritual tourism”—only want the high points—want the destination without the journey. But the problem with all that—and the sad realization for people of faith--is that the Christian life simply cannot mature that way--can’t be done on the fly—can’t be microwaved. And in our best moments, we know that, don’t we? Of course we do…
Because along comes Jesus—(that’s been our refrain these past weeks--reading and preaching Matthew’s gospel: “Along comes Jesus!”)--comes into the world with an invitation to get in on something so much bigger than ourselves--and so lacking in perks--so devoid of the security we crave--an invitation to be a part of the kingdom of heaven. And he drops that invitation on us smack dab in the middle of this harried, impatient, demanding culture!
See, that’s what Jesus wants to tell his followers, here—here in middle of Matthew 13—wants to tell them (and tell us) about this great, costly adventure called discipleship. And what we have read, this morning, is unusual—unusual in that Jesus--who more often communicated by telling stories--chooses here to fire off this lightning round of quick, snappy comparisons—metaphors—talks about one thing by referring to another thing--gets at the meaning of one thing by comparing it to another… The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, Jesus says—like yeast, like buried treasure, like a fine pearl, like a net cast into the sea. The images come staccato-like--one right after the other--no preparation, no explanation… And it’s not like Jesus to be in such a rush. Usually he gives more room—room to digest what he’s saying--but not here… They just come at us--these bursts of what the kingdom’s like—one, two, three, four, five—like scrolling through pictures on your phone. We want to say, “Hold on, Jesus--slow down! Lemme see that one again!” The kingdom of heaven is like this and this and this and this and this. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want us getting stuck on any one of them--just wants to dazzle us—have us captivated by the sheer number and variety of things the kingdom of heaven is like--it’s like all of this…
So, if we break it down a bit, I’m thinking the first two comparisons are pretty straightforward. The kingdom’s like a mustard seed—and like a handful of yeast—nothing much to look at--not all that impressive--but give them something to work on—sow the seed, mix the yeast in with the flour—and the results can be astounding: a tree big enough for birds to nest in,
(which is crazy!); (switch slides) or bread enough to feed a family for a month:
(And I love that picture—the kid’s feet aren’t even touching the ground he’s so happy with his bread!) If the kingdom’s like that, why, then it’s surprising and potent--way more than meets the eye… (remove slide)
So there’s that--but then the next two comparisons get more difficult. First, the kingdom’s like somebody finding a buried treasure
—finds it in a field—then covers it back up--sells all he has to buy the field. He’s poor, don’t you see—but gets rich through sheer luck. (remove slide) Or the next one--the kingdom’s like a merchant—say, somebody who searches for and finds a pearl of great price—
…sells everything to buy that pearl. Here’s somebody of some means who becomes even wealthier—gets there through persistence, through skill. But rich or poor--skillful or just plain lucky--each one finds something of great value and then sells all they have to make it their own. Each finds something that makes everything else they own trivial by comparison--so they don’t even think twice about trading it all in. Meaning that if the kingdom is like that, why, then it’s rare, but attainable—within reach--for those not only willing, but eager to pay the price… (remove slide)
So that—but then the final comparison—the one about the kingdom and a fishing net—one that takes a different tack altogether. Thrown into the sea, the net gathers fish of every kind
--good and bad--all to be sorted out once the net is full. And if the kingdom is like that, then it is not, in the end, something we find so much as it’s something that finds us—finds us and hauls us up into the light… (remove slide)
Now, all that is a whole lot to digest--especially in one sitting. (In fact, I hope you’re still with me, here!) But I need to tell you—that, despite all that variety of imagery Jesus uses to draw his comparisons, here--there is something strikingly similar about them. What is striking is that they each have to do with hiddeness—the mustard seed hidden in the ground, the yeast hidden in the dough, the treasure hidden in the field, the pearl hidden among all the other pearls, the net hidden in the depths of the sea… So that, we might say--if the kingdom of heaven is like these things, then it’s not something readily apparent, right?--rather, it’s something that has to be searched for--something just below the surface--waiting to be discovered—waiting to be found. (Does that make sense?)
And I don’t know about you, but when my mind tries getting hold of that—that sense of discovery--that sense of what it might be like to unearth the kingdom--to find it, so I might begin to inhabit it--begin to live into the work of kingdom living it implies—when I try getting hold of that great big idea--I find myself drawn to one simple phrase that shows up here. It’s the part that tells me that those who seek God’s kingdom “go and sell all that they have.” Jesus says it twice. There is a complete relinquishment of everything material. He does not say that we sell those things we no longer need—doesn’t say we have a garage sale or bring our extra stuff down to Cornerstone[2]; he says we sell everything! The seeker divests his/her self of all possessions, of everything that has temporal value, that he or she might gain that which is of eternal value. And that’s the phrase that won’t leave me alone…
It won’t leave me alone—instead leaves me feeling like somebody who does not measure up to the high calling and radical discipleship to which I have been called—not even close... I mean, is that your experience? Or do you hear verses like these--verses telling you what the cost of being a follower of Jesus really is--and you say to yourself, “Oh good--because that’s me—I havegiven God everything—have notcompartmentalized my life—have not hidden a single thing from God. No, like the old hymn people sang back in the day: “I surrender all.” Is that your response to words like these? Or is it more like mine: “I surrender some.” I mean, we may hope and pray that we’re learning to trust God with deeper levels of surrender and relinquishment--but we are not all the way there yet... And that is the honest truth about us…
One of the things I’m struck by--when I talk with people who’ve been in a hard place serving God--like our missionaries from Park that we get to hear from in the summer--or like our young people--back home from Detroit last night—ready to tell us about their mission trip—when I listen to them, I’m struck by the absence of complaining that I hear. They don’t complain about the food—they don’t complain about harsh living conditions--how hard the floor was where they slept—none of that. No, what I hear them telling is what a privilege it was—the privilege of being joined with other believers sharing God’s love and the good news of the gospel with people in need. I do not hear people talk about what they gave up; I hear people talk about what they gained. Because selling what they had was a privilege—one that brought a joy far outweighing anything they have been left without--that’s what I hear…
It’s like that thing I learned about experienced mountain climbers--that when they find themselves in a dangerous place (like on the face of a cliff--or the slopes of a glacier)—they do this strange thing--they rope themselves together—tie themselves to one another for protection. Because sometimes, one of ‘em slips—they fall—literally, they “backslide.” But because not everybody falls at once--those still on their feet are able to keep the backsliders from falling away completely, don’t you see. They brace themselves with that rope--are able to help each other upward and onward--‘til they all reach the summit together…
And that, right there, is the good news of the gospel, isn’t it? You and I are called to lives of surrender, not all by our lonesome, but together, in community—roped to one another. And the way we come to deeper levels of surrender is by starting that journey with other people seeking to live that way, too—people looking for life beneath the surface, in a deeper place… We rope ourselves together with the rope of the gospel. And sometimes we slip and fall. Sometimes we cling to things that get in the way of our finding—get in the way of our becoming more like Jesus. But we have taken hold of the same rope—the rope that will hold us, the rope that keeps us on the path of surrender, which is the only real path to freedom. We hold on, and in our holding on we let go—let go of our complaining—let go of our need for convenience--so thrilled are we with the view from that place of trust we find ourselves reaching. The pettiness that so consumed us back at the bottom no longer consumes us, because we have begun to understand what Jesus meant when he said, “Whoever finds their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”
1
[1] From, A Long Obedience In the Same Direction, p. 12.
[2]Our second-hand clothing store here at Park…