Imperative
Commentary
Recently, British researchers discovered that 42 percent of the church-goers in that country fall asleep during the sermon. The numbers may be astounding, but the habit is as old as Eutychus’s fatal nap in Acts 20.
Even the great eighteenth-century evangelist John Wesley noticed that a number of people in his congregation were fast asleep. Without a warning, he suddenly broke his train of homiletic thought, and yelled out at the top of his voice, “FIRE! FIRE!”
Startled, the sleepers jumped to their feet, now quite awake. “Where’s the fire?” they shouted, glancing around the room.
“In hell,” replied Wesley, “for those who sleep under the preaching of the word!”
While the Bible is full of indicatives—stories and narratives—it is also a book of imperatives—commands to repent and follow and change behaviors. Today’s lectionary readings share this common feature: Jonah goes to Nineveh and commands repentance; Paul writes to the early Corinthian congregation with strong words about behavior expectations and changes; and Jesus begins his ministry with calls to follow him.
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
The prophets began to emerge on Israel’s scene shortly after its settlement in Canaan. At first, they functioned as lingering echoes of Moses’ booming voice, now fading in the historic distance. Although they continued in this role, seeking ways to translate the theology and social lifestyle of the Sinai covenant into new and changing circumstances for Israel, the prophets also became a third national leadership team, standing somewhere between the cultic role of the priests and the political venue of the kings. There is little evidence that they considered themselves as providing new revelations for Israel. Rather, they were interpreters of the Sinai covenant, subservient to Moses and the original Suzerain-Vassal documents. Their authority, while rooted in contemporary visions, was derived from the ancient standards, and never ran ahead of Exodus or Leviticus or Deuteronomy.
What eventually coalesced from their common declarations, however, was the rallying point of the “day of the Lord.” Increasingly the prophets heard Yahweh declaiming that things were getting so bad, both within Israel and among the nations of her world, that only a direct divine intrusion could set things right again. This impending divine visitation became known as the great and terrible “day of the Lord.”
While God’s visible actions in this imminent momentous occasion would probably span a lengthy period of time, the outcomes would be so decisive that it could be termed a single event. Three major things would happen when Yahweh arrived on that “day:”
The key element of this word of anticipation and judgment was that it was part of God’s larger plans to bring the whole of the world, all its nations, back into a relationship with their Creator. This is how Jonah comes to have his international preaching assignment.
Jonah was commissioned by Yahweh to travel all the way to Nineveh, capital of the dreaded Assyrians, and speak a message of divine judgment against this aggressive civilization. One might think that any loyal Israelite would gladly rise to such a task. After all, Assyria was the great political enemy of the day, constantly threatening life in Canaan. Jonah, however, was wise enough to understand the heart of Yahweh. It was not God’s desire to destroy the Assyrians, he knew, but rather to bring them, along with all the other nations of the world, into a larger family of peoples who were returning to their Creator in worship and submission and the recovery of full human joy.
So Jonah tried to evade his task by getting as far away from Nineveh as possible. In the famous story told in Jonah 1–2, Yahweh pursues Jonah on the high seas, causes a storm that nearly swamps his ship, and preserves the prophet from suicide-by-drowning in the belly of a large fish. Yet when Jonah finally resumes his unwelcome mission to Nineveh, in today’s lectionary reading, his suspicions come true, as the people of that great city actually repent for a time. God’s promised judgment is put on hold, and Jonah cries like a spoiled brat.
The meaning of the tale is clear, however, and genuinely prophetic: although the Creator’s world has turned against its maker, Yahweh has prepared Israel as a special missionary people; through it, as promised to Abram in Genesis 12, all the nations of the earth will be blessed. The tiny book of Jonah is one of the greatest affirmations of the missional nature of the redemptive covenant established by Yahweh with Israel at Mt. Sinai.
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Probably sometime in late 51 A.D. or early 52 A.D., Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about this communication in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul’s authority after reading that letter, and then began to instigate factionalism in the community. Cliques grew, based upon personal preferences about which leaders were better preachers, and who had a right to claim greater sway among them (see 1 Corinthians 2-4). Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus and Achaicus), all highly respectful of Paul’s apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although it was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, because the earlier communication has been lost, this one survives as 1 Corinthians in our New Testaments. Immediately in the opening passages, Paul addresses the difficulties some have at his continued influence in the congregation. He chastises the members for dividing up into parties where each waves a banner acclaiming the worthiness of a different leader. These groupings were sinful and disruptive, according to Paul, for they denied the honor that ought to be given only to the true head of the church, Jesus Christ. Such schisms also played favorites among human leaders, setting them over against each other, rather than recognizing their complementary gifts for helping the church as a whole to grow. By chapter four, Paul was ready to give an declaration for his own apostolic authority, pleading with the Corinthians to receive his teachings as God’s own initiatives toward them.
In chapters five and six, Paul painfully rehearsed some of the examples of immorality within the congregation that must have been the focus of his earlier letter. Several social sins, including blatantly inappropriate sexual relations and lawsuits between Christians, are marched out onto the platform in descriptions that must have left little doubt as to who Paul was talking about. The reflections about sexual behaviors may have reminded Paul of the queries on the list brought by Stephanus, Fortunatus and Achaicus. To these he turns next. Apparently, there were eight questions raised:
Mark 1:14-20
Second century bishop Papias knew that the church of his day recognized this shortest of the gospels as consisting essentially of the preaching of Peter about Jesus, even though the words themselves were recorded by Mark. There are several internal hints to support this hypothesis: Peter’s call to be a follower of Jesus is the first to be recorded (Mark 1:16), even though each of the gospels reports the various callings in different sequences; Peter is identified as “Simon” early in the gospel (Mark 1:16, 29, 36), which fits with the probable way Peter was addressed by his family and friends, before Jesus renamed him (Mark 3:16) “Rocky” (the essential meaning of the Greek name “Peter”); the story of Jesus healing Peter’s mother-in-law is told with more personal detail (Mark 1:29–37) than is found in its other gospel recordings (Matthew 8:14–15; Luke 4:38–39). Together these clues cement a close connection between Mark’s gospel and the preaching of Peter. The old apostle declared these remembrances to his congregation in Rome, and his younger assistant took down notes that eventually morphed into this earliest gospel.
The first glimpse of Jesus in the Gospel according to Mark is found immediately in the introductory heading or title of 1:1 — “The beginning of the Good News (gospel) about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Several things are important in this short statement. First, the author presumes there is much more to declare about Jesus than that which will be contained in these proclamations; this is only “the beginning.” Second, whatever one might think about Jesus, even with the gruesome crucifixion story still ahead, the impact of his life and ministry is “good news.” This colors how one should receive the message that follows. Third, Jesus is already understood at the beginning of this story to be the Messiah foretold by the prophets of the Old Testament. The term “Christ,” appended to “Jesus,” is a title, not a name (although it would come to be used as such). Jesus was “the Christ,” meaning the one anointed to be the great deliverer of the Jews. This is why the baptism and divine commissioning of Jesus are told first (Mark 1:9–11) and are clearly expressed as a divine anointing (verse 10). Fourth, an additional designation is given to Jesus; he is called “the Son of God.” While Christianity has made this a common theological phrase, it was originally a very specific political term used to honor the Roman emperor. When Caesar Augustus died, the Roman Senate declared him to be divine. All the rulers who came after him were, in turn, identified as the “Son of God,” when they mounted the throne. For Mark to call Jesus the “Son of God” was a deliberate move to identify him as a rival to the Roman emperor of the day.
Our initial impressions about Jesus, as the narrative unfolds, are those showing him to be a man of action, healing and power. In the first two chapters alone, Jesus is breathlessly busy, flitting all over Galilee, healing and teaching with such abandon that he is constantly followed (Mark 1:45), and always under urgent demand (Mark 3:7–8). While the gospel seems, at the start, to be merely a collection of stories about Jesus’ healings and brief teachings, it soon begins to take linear shape. In fact, its literary form will be copied by Matthew and Luke, who depend extensively on Mark’s record. This is why these three are together called the synoptics (those who see similarly). In a very broad outline the gospel of Mark looks like this:
1-8 Jesus blasts the powers that harm human life by means of the greater power of the Kingdom of God
Transitional Event: Transfiguration in chapter 9
9-10 Jesus teaches his close companions about the cost and character of discipleship
Transitional Event: Entry into Jerusalem in chapter 11
11-16 Jesus moves to the cross and beyond in a fulfillment of the cost of discipleship upon himself, and a paradoxical expression of the power of the kingdom of God
Among the many things that can be said about Mark’s gospel, there are several interesting and critical features that are unique to it. First, no infancy story is recorded (in distinction from Matthew and Luke). This gospel about Jesus begins with his full-grown adult powers in place, and these are immediately confirmed and amplified by the commissioning endowment of the divine Spirit. In other words, according to Peter’s preaching and Mark’s penning, Jesus jumps out of the starting gate at full throttle, a man on a mission, with energy and purpose.
Second, the prophecy of Isaiah is recalled up front. That Old Testament spokesperson announced the coming of the great day of the Lord, speaking of a time when Yahweh would break into human history to bring judgment against the nations of the world and the evil in Israel, save a remnant, and begin the new and transforming messianic age. In this way Mark links the coming of Jesus directly to the Old Testament identity of God, and the actions of salvation history contained in it. This connection is further affirmed when Jesus opens his mouth to preach. His very first words are written by Mark as “the good news of God” (1:14) and commence as a staccato summary of the prophetic “day of the Lord” theology: “The time has come. The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!” (1:15).
As with those who first heard Jesus’ commanding declarations, the only meaningful response is to follow him in honor, belief and service. Do we still hear Jesus’ voice? Do we still respond?
Application
Those who follow Jesus see the world through different eyes and begin the journey of faith with a cry of repentance. It is then, and then alone, that dawns a ray of hope. The journey begins in that moment, just as Bill W. testified in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. It starts at the bottom.
The Bible is full of calls for repentance, precisely because none of us will take the journey to God on our own. It is not until we come to our senses, down in the hog wallows of our lives, that we begin to cry in agony for the grace of deliverance.
When repentance comes, it can be a devastating thing.
This, obviously, goes against the consumer mentality that has gripped our society. We have been drugged into believing that we are okay on our own, that we have all the means and resources necessary to see us through any jam in life’s river. That is why, in a culture guided by consumption, we are not really on the way to anywhere. We do not need to repent, according to pop psychology, but only to obtain. We do not need to change our ways, only our strategies. We do not need some outside power to help us, only to encourage us. We can do just fine on our own, thank you! So as the writer of Hebrews knows well, this call to discipleship and pilgrimage often dies before it gets a good response from our lips or a faithful commitment in our actions.
Still, “the longest journey begins with the first step,” as the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu put it. And repentance is the first step on the road to healing. Grace has no place in the self-satisfaction of a do-it-yourself religion. Jesus himself said that he did not come to gather the so-called righteous (i.e., the ones who are satisfied with where they are at), but sinners to repentance.
Alternative Application (Jonah 3:1-5, 10)
Madeline L’Engle once explained to a conference gathering how she came to understand the meaning of her life. At the time, she was the “writer in residence” at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Fifth Avenue in New York City. She met regularly with the rest of the staff at the church, and developed a fast friendship with the cathedral bishop.
One day the two of them were talking about the times in their lives when they felt they had grown the most in terms of inner graces and spiritual depth. It did not take long for each to realize that the most creative energies had come to life only at the end of periods of great struggle, often filled with agonizing mental and emotional torment. In fact, said Madeline L’Engle, the best of her books were written just after the worst times of her life!
As they talked, each experienced the growing realization of what poet and hymn-writer Margaret Clarkson identified when she penned Grace Grows Best in Winter. More than that, they also found that the turning point leading out of the dark night of the soul was, for each of them, always a moment of repentance.
After some tender moments of further sharing, the bishop got up to leave. At the door, said L’Engle, he stopped for a moment and then turned around to face her. “Madeline,” he said to her, “I don’t know how to say this, but have a bad day!”
He was the best kind of friend, Madeline told us, for he truly cared about her. He did not wish for her to experience the nastiness of life. Yet he did wish for her to find the grace of God that only emerges with power out of the repentance that comes to those who realize the insufficient, incomplete, inept, and inconsistent state of their hearts. Only a very kind and truly great friend could see that sometimes what we need most is a bad day that will help us turn our hearts toward home.
Even the great eighteenth-century evangelist John Wesley noticed that a number of people in his congregation were fast asleep. Without a warning, he suddenly broke his train of homiletic thought, and yelled out at the top of his voice, “FIRE! FIRE!”
Startled, the sleepers jumped to their feet, now quite awake. “Where’s the fire?” they shouted, glancing around the room.
“In hell,” replied Wesley, “for those who sleep under the preaching of the word!”
While the Bible is full of indicatives—stories and narratives—it is also a book of imperatives—commands to repent and follow and change behaviors. Today’s lectionary readings share this common feature: Jonah goes to Nineveh and commands repentance; Paul writes to the early Corinthian congregation with strong words about behavior expectations and changes; and Jesus begins his ministry with calls to follow him.
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
The prophets began to emerge on Israel’s scene shortly after its settlement in Canaan. At first, they functioned as lingering echoes of Moses’ booming voice, now fading in the historic distance. Although they continued in this role, seeking ways to translate the theology and social lifestyle of the Sinai covenant into new and changing circumstances for Israel, the prophets also became a third national leadership team, standing somewhere between the cultic role of the priests and the political venue of the kings. There is little evidence that they considered themselves as providing new revelations for Israel. Rather, they were interpreters of the Sinai covenant, subservient to Moses and the original Suzerain-Vassal documents. Their authority, while rooted in contemporary visions, was derived from the ancient standards, and never ran ahead of Exodus or Leviticus or Deuteronomy.
What eventually coalesced from their common declarations, however, was the rallying point of the “day of the Lord.” Increasingly the prophets heard Yahweh declaiming that things were getting so bad, both within Israel and among the nations of her world, that only a direct divine intrusion could set things right again. This impending divine visitation became known as the great and terrible “day of the Lord.”
While God’s visible actions in this imminent momentous occasion would probably span a lengthy period of time, the outcomes would be so decisive that it could be termed a single event. Three major things would happen when Yahweh arrived on that “day:”
- There would be a catastrophic judgment meted upon all the nations of earth, including Israel/Judah. It would fall as a divine judicial assessment that none were living appropriately to the lifestyle of the Sinai covenant, or changing their behaviors toward that direction because of the missional influence of God’s people.
- In spite of the conflagration, a remnant of Israel would be spared. This small group would be evidence that not all of the people had forgotten their God, and similarly that God would never forget the divinely created community.
- After the cleansing of judgment and the restoration of the remnant, a new and vibrant messianic age would be ushered in. This would be a time in which all the implications of the Sinai covenant would be lived out with fresh and natural devotion by the renewed people of Yahweh. Furthermore, throughout the world, every nation would actively seek to conform its moral behaviors to that same pattern of life. The creation itself would be reinvigorated with its edenic glories, and the Creator and all creatures would find themselves enjoying the harmony and unlimited bounty intended by God at the beginning of time.
The key element of this word of anticipation and judgment was that it was part of God’s larger plans to bring the whole of the world, all its nations, back into a relationship with their Creator. This is how Jonah comes to have his international preaching assignment.
Jonah was commissioned by Yahweh to travel all the way to Nineveh, capital of the dreaded Assyrians, and speak a message of divine judgment against this aggressive civilization. One might think that any loyal Israelite would gladly rise to such a task. After all, Assyria was the great political enemy of the day, constantly threatening life in Canaan. Jonah, however, was wise enough to understand the heart of Yahweh. It was not God’s desire to destroy the Assyrians, he knew, but rather to bring them, along with all the other nations of the world, into a larger family of peoples who were returning to their Creator in worship and submission and the recovery of full human joy.
So Jonah tried to evade his task by getting as far away from Nineveh as possible. In the famous story told in Jonah 1–2, Yahweh pursues Jonah on the high seas, causes a storm that nearly swamps his ship, and preserves the prophet from suicide-by-drowning in the belly of a large fish. Yet when Jonah finally resumes his unwelcome mission to Nineveh, in today’s lectionary reading, his suspicions come true, as the people of that great city actually repent for a time. God’s promised judgment is put on hold, and Jonah cries like a spoiled brat.
The meaning of the tale is clear, however, and genuinely prophetic: although the Creator’s world has turned against its maker, Yahweh has prepared Israel as a special missionary people; through it, as promised to Abram in Genesis 12, all the nations of the earth will be blessed. The tiny book of Jonah is one of the greatest affirmations of the missional nature of the redemptive covenant established by Yahweh with Israel at Mt. Sinai.
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Probably sometime in late 51 A.D. or early 52 A.D., Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about this communication in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul’s authority after reading that letter, and then began to instigate factionalism in the community. Cliques grew, based upon personal preferences about which leaders were better preachers, and who had a right to claim greater sway among them (see 1 Corinthians 2-4). Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus and Achaicus), all highly respectful of Paul’s apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although it was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, because the earlier communication has been lost, this one survives as 1 Corinthians in our New Testaments. Immediately in the opening passages, Paul addresses the difficulties some have at his continued influence in the congregation. He chastises the members for dividing up into parties where each waves a banner acclaiming the worthiness of a different leader. These groupings were sinful and disruptive, according to Paul, for they denied the honor that ought to be given only to the true head of the church, Jesus Christ. Such schisms also played favorites among human leaders, setting them over against each other, rather than recognizing their complementary gifts for helping the church as a whole to grow. By chapter four, Paul was ready to give an declaration for his own apostolic authority, pleading with the Corinthians to receive his teachings as God’s own initiatives toward them.
In chapters five and six, Paul painfully rehearsed some of the examples of immorality within the congregation that must have been the focus of his earlier letter. Several social sins, including blatantly inappropriate sexual relations and lawsuits between Christians, are marched out onto the platform in descriptions that must have left little doubt as to who Paul was talking about. The reflections about sexual behaviors may have reminded Paul of the queries on the list brought by Stephanus, Fortunatus and Achaicus. To these he turns next. Apparently, there were eight questions raised:
- Is singleness a more appropriate Christian lifestyle than being married, and if so, what should married folk do about it? (7:1–24)
- How should unmarried people handle their sexual desires? (7:25–40)
- When we are offered meat that originates in local religious ceremonies involving other gods, what are we to do (and who gives you a right to tell us)? (8:1–11:1)
- What is the most appropriate way to celebrate the Lord’s Supper, especially with the diversity of our congregational population? (11:2–33)
- The expression of spiritual gifts is becoming a conflict among us. How do we deal with this? (12–14)
- Did Jesus really come back to life after his death, and does it matter? (15)
- Is there a standard practice about sharing our possessions and financially contributing to the needs of others? (16:1–11)
- When is Apollos coming to provide some leadership among us? (16:12)
Mark 1:14-20
Second century bishop Papias knew that the church of his day recognized this shortest of the gospels as consisting essentially of the preaching of Peter about Jesus, even though the words themselves were recorded by Mark. There are several internal hints to support this hypothesis: Peter’s call to be a follower of Jesus is the first to be recorded (Mark 1:16), even though each of the gospels reports the various callings in different sequences; Peter is identified as “Simon” early in the gospel (Mark 1:16, 29, 36), which fits with the probable way Peter was addressed by his family and friends, before Jesus renamed him (Mark 3:16) “Rocky” (the essential meaning of the Greek name “Peter”); the story of Jesus healing Peter’s mother-in-law is told with more personal detail (Mark 1:29–37) than is found in its other gospel recordings (Matthew 8:14–15; Luke 4:38–39). Together these clues cement a close connection between Mark’s gospel and the preaching of Peter. The old apostle declared these remembrances to his congregation in Rome, and his younger assistant took down notes that eventually morphed into this earliest gospel.
The first glimpse of Jesus in the Gospel according to Mark is found immediately in the introductory heading or title of 1:1 — “The beginning of the Good News (gospel) about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Several things are important in this short statement. First, the author presumes there is much more to declare about Jesus than that which will be contained in these proclamations; this is only “the beginning.” Second, whatever one might think about Jesus, even with the gruesome crucifixion story still ahead, the impact of his life and ministry is “good news.” This colors how one should receive the message that follows. Third, Jesus is already understood at the beginning of this story to be the Messiah foretold by the prophets of the Old Testament. The term “Christ,” appended to “Jesus,” is a title, not a name (although it would come to be used as such). Jesus was “the Christ,” meaning the one anointed to be the great deliverer of the Jews. This is why the baptism and divine commissioning of Jesus are told first (Mark 1:9–11) and are clearly expressed as a divine anointing (verse 10). Fourth, an additional designation is given to Jesus; he is called “the Son of God.” While Christianity has made this a common theological phrase, it was originally a very specific political term used to honor the Roman emperor. When Caesar Augustus died, the Roman Senate declared him to be divine. All the rulers who came after him were, in turn, identified as the “Son of God,” when they mounted the throne. For Mark to call Jesus the “Son of God” was a deliberate move to identify him as a rival to the Roman emperor of the day.
Our initial impressions about Jesus, as the narrative unfolds, are those showing him to be a man of action, healing and power. In the first two chapters alone, Jesus is breathlessly busy, flitting all over Galilee, healing and teaching with such abandon that he is constantly followed (Mark 1:45), and always under urgent demand (Mark 3:7–8). While the gospel seems, at the start, to be merely a collection of stories about Jesus’ healings and brief teachings, it soon begins to take linear shape. In fact, its literary form will be copied by Matthew and Luke, who depend extensively on Mark’s record. This is why these three are together called the synoptics (those who see similarly). In a very broad outline the gospel of Mark looks like this:
1-8 Jesus blasts the powers that harm human life by means of the greater power of the Kingdom of God
Transitional Event: Transfiguration in chapter 9
9-10 Jesus teaches his close companions about the cost and character of discipleship
Transitional Event: Entry into Jerusalem in chapter 11
11-16 Jesus moves to the cross and beyond in a fulfillment of the cost of discipleship upon himself, and a paradoxical expression of the power of the kingdom of God
Among the many things that can be said about Mark’s gospel, there are several interesting and critical features that are unique to it. First, no infancy story is recorded (in distinction from Matthew and Luke). This gospel about Jesus begins with his full-grown adult powers in place, and these are immediately confirmed and amplified by the commissioning endowment of the divine Spirit. In other words, according to Peter’s preaching and Mark’s penning, Jesus jumps out of the starting gate at full throttle, a man on a mission, with energy and purpose.
Second, the prophecy of Isaiah is recalled up front. That Old Testament spokesperson announced the coming of the great day of the Lord, speaking of a time when Yahweh would break into human history to bring judgment against the nations of the world and the evil in Israel, save a remnant, and begin the new and transforming messianic age. In this way Mark links the coming of Jesus directly to the Old Testament identity of God, and the actions of salvation history contained in it. This connection is further affirmed when Jesus opens his mouth to preach. His very first words are written by Mark as “the good news of God” (1:14) and commence as a staccato summary of the prophetic “day of the Lord” theology: “The time has come. The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!” (1:15).
As with those who first heard Jesus’ commanding declarations, the only meaningful response is to follow him in honor, belief and service. Do we still hear Jesus’ voice? Do we still respond?
Application
Those who follow Jesus see the world through different eyes and begin the journey of faith with a cry of repentance. It is then, and then alone, that dawns a ray of hope. The journey begins in that moment, just as Bill W. testified in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. It starts at the bottom.
The Bible is full of calls for repentance, precisely because none of us will take the journey to God on our own. It is not until we come to our senses, down in the hog wallows of our lives, that we begin to cry in agony for the grace of deliverance.
When repentance comes, it can be a devastating thing.
This, obviously, goes against the consumer mentality that has gripped our society. We have been drugged into believing that we are okay on our own, that we have all the means and resources necessary to see us through any jam in life’s river. That is why, in a culture guided by consumption, we are not really on the way to anywhere. We do not need to repent, according to pop psychology, but only to obtain. We do not need to change our ways, only our strategies. We do not need some outside power to help us, only to encourage us. We can do just fine on our own, thank you! So as the writer of Hebrews knows well, this call to discipleship and pilgrimage often dies before it gets a good response from our lips or a faithful commitment in our actions.
Still, “the longest journey begins with the first step,” as the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu put it. And repentance is the first step on the road to healing. Grace has no place in the self-satisfaction of a do-it-yourself religion. Jesus himself said that he did not come to gather the so-called righteous (i.e., the ones who are satisfied with where they are at), but sinners to repentance.
Alternative Application (Jonah 3:1-5, 10)
Madeline L’Engle once explained to a conference gathering how she came to understand the meaning of her life. At the time, she was the “writer in residence” at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Fifth Avenue in New York City. She met regularly with the rest of the staff at the church, and developed a fast friendship with the cathedral bishop.
One day the two of them were talking about the times in their lives when they felt they had grown the most in terms of inner graces and spiritual depth. It did not take long for each to realize that the most creative energies had come to life only at the end of periods of great struggle, often filled with agonizing mental and emotional torment. In fact, said Madeline L’Engle, the best of her books were written just after the worst times of her life!
As they talked, each experienced the growing realization of what poet and hymn-writer Margaret Clarkson identified when she penned Grace Grows Best in Winter. More than that, they also found that the turning point leading out of the dark night of the soul was, for each of them, always a moment of repentance.
After some tender moments of further sharing, the bishop got up to leave. At the door, said L’Engle, he stopped for a moment and then turned around to face her. “Madeline,” he said to her, “I don’t know how to say this, but have a bad day!”
He was the best kind of friend, Madeline told us, for he truly cared about her. He did not wish for her to experience the nastiness of life. Yet he did wish for her to find the grace of God that only emerges with power out of the repentance that comes to those who realize the insufficient, incomplete, inept, and inconsistent state of their hearts. Only a very kind and truly great friend could see that sometimes what we need most is a bad day that will help us turn our hearts toward home.
