Getting More Of God Than We Really Want
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle A
There is an old story about a Sunday school teacher who asked a young girl in her class why her little brother wasn't coming to Sunday school any longer. The girl replied, "Well, to tell the truth, he just can't stand Jesus!" Her brother had more of Jesus than he wanted.
We all can understand this. Once in a while we get more of Jesus than is comfortable. James Dittes has suggested that many people who always sit on the back pew don't want to feel too close to God. Sitting in the back pews is protection for them. Possibly, many of us who come to worship are not hankering for the blessed arms of Jesus. We sense that a genuine confrontation with our Creator and Sustainer can be a terribly shattering experience.
This brings us to our lection for today. God calls Moses to the mountain to give him the tablets of the Commandments. Moses stays on the mountain for forty days and nights. During this time God's glory is revealed as a "devouring fire" displayed to all the people at the foot of the mountain. We suspect that Moses and the people got more of God than they really wanted. We can imagine that they preferred a more comfortable God.
When Aristotle said, "Everything in moderation," he had his mind on ethics, not theology. But plenty of people follow Aristotle in their relation to God. We all want a "moderate" relationship with God, with no risky commitments. We shy away from a God who is always hounding us about social injustice and prejudice. We definitely flee from a God who keeps showing up in frightening neighbor need.
The biblical story says Moses felt he got more of God than he wanted. It began with the sidestepping, when, as God called him out of a quiet pastoral life to lead the Israelites to freedom. Moses was not keen on a God who would completely dominate his life. Other incidents in those wilderness years depict a Moses who would like to repeal the Exodus experience and return to his father--in--law's sheep. Such a God would be more manageable and less burdensome. If he didn't know that God was a "devouring fire" before he went up on the mountain, he knew it afterward. He got more God than he really wanted.
If Moses got more God than he really wanted, the Israelites who followed him out of Egypt felt the same. At one point they became so hungry and thirsty that they wished themselves back in the land of their oppression. They hadn't noticed that God's liberation might lead them out into danger and privation. Another time they wanted God to promise them prosperity and well--being. While Moses was away, they molded a golden calf, a symbol of success - fertility and abundant families and crops. This was as much of God as they wanted. They had little use for a God who not so gently shaped them into a people for all humanity, enabling humanity to see itself as chosen and elected for God's agenda. The bottom line is that God comes to us in this relentless way, often disturbing our comforts.
II
The biblical story gives us many instances of getting more God than anyone bargained for. Jonah's God became too much when Jonah was called to offer God's grace to the Ninevites who were off his religious radar screen. Jeremiah complained that God made him wish he had never been born. Job desperately wanted a God who balances the books on good and evil.
The Gospel of Jesus offered a God who was more than anyone wanted. Jesus' God was too inclusive for many. Jesus' God received moral outcasts, Samaritans, Roman occupation officers, some who made personal fortunes through cooperating with the Romans, and the sick who were thought to be ill because they were sinners. Jesus' acceptance and concern for these pointed toward a God who most folks just couldn't stand or want.
Jesus invited his death partly because he offered a "too much" God. His disciples sensed Jesus' God as dangerous to their hope of national restoration and personal reward. The God of Jesus was interested in larger issues than national dignity or personal prosperity. Jesus' God called for service and humility, and this was more than they wanted. At the end, offending those who stood for a limited, controllable God, a God who gave them exclusive rights to broker God's favors, sealed Jesus' fate. One said, "Jesus wasn't crucified because he said, 'Consider the lilies and how they grow.' He died because he said, 'Consider the thieves in the Temple and how they steal.' " Whatever Jesus' feelings about his people's national hopes and messianic dreams, he continually attacked the prevailing religious system because it offered a shield against the God who proves to be more than we want.
But is it thinkable that Jesus also had times when God became more than he wanted? Holy Week hints at this. In the Garden, Jesus prays that God might allow him to slip out of the city and avoid the trap his enemies have set for him. Faithfulness to God was almost more than he wanted. When pinned to the cross, he cried out, "My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?" Even if these words from Psalm 22 have been attributed to Jesus by Matthew for dramatic effect, they are true to the cross experience of Jesus, and all who go after him to their own cross. The God who calls us out can seem more than we want.
We can say the same for Paul and those to whom he preached. Initially, This "too much" God focusing on the life and death of Jesus was more than Paul wanted. In frantic efforts to protect himself, Paul tried to stamp out this overwhelming God--in--Jesus. Finally, Paul conceded and in the years following he proclaimed a "too much" God. Like Jesus, this got him into much difficulty, for this was more God than many of those in his audience wanted.
The biblical record is clear about this. God is a "devouring fire" demanding all that we have, are, and hope to be. For eternity, God will be a joyful, comforting glory, and the fulfillment of those scriptures promising that we will stand with saints and sing hymns to God forever. But for now the Bible says our experience of God is often less than quiet comfort. A young pastor wrote his Bishop and invited him to come to his congregation and conduct a Quiet Hour. The bishop replied that what this pastor's church needed was not a Quiet Hour but a tornado! God often is too much for us because God comes to us in "tornadic," "devouring fire" guises, just what we don't want. Luther preached that the New Testament is a theology of the cross, not a theology of glorious, triumphant, and unmixed blessings. Richard Niebuhr put it rather plainly in his famous quip: "We want a God without wrath, [who brings] men without sin into a kingdom without judgment, through the ministrations of Christ without a cross." Paul does say that we can have a peace "beyond all understanding." But this peace comes after turmoil, confusion, pain, and a touch of despair.
III
Albert Schweitzer was a Renaissance person. Son of a German Lutheran pastor, gifted in music, philosophy, theology, biblical studies, and a preacher, he has become one of the classic instances of Christian discipleship in our time. While still a young man, he wrote a provocative book on the historical Jesus that challenged the understanding of Jesus of both liberals and conservatives. Possessed of a high moral sense and troubled over the European domination of Africa and the suffering such colonial ventures caused, he entered medical school to train himself in tropical medicine so that he might directly minister to the sufferings of the African people.
In his autobiography he tells how his friends and colleagues were upset at his decision to become a medical missionary. They argued that his many talents would be lost if he were to be swallowed up by the tropical jungle of central Africa. If we were one of Schweitzer's friends, we would have put the same objections to him. But all these hesitations were born in trying to protect themselves from the "too much," "devouring fire" of God - the God who often seems a whole lot more than we have wanted.
The church in our time could listen up at this point. So much of the modern church - liberal or conservative - seems to be offering a God who backs away from the "devouring fire." The church has given itself over to the success standards of the world: membership growth, glitzy church buildings filled with all the latest technology, praise worship that seldom gets around to mission, sermons that avoid the critical questions of the thoughtful, along with a refusal to say that allegiance to the kingdom of God supercedes loyalty to our nation.
Staying within these limitations, the church serves up a God and accompanying beliefs; effectively protecting us from the "devouring fire" where God becomes more than we really want. But we are all poorer, for this "too much" God is the God whom we really desire. This is the same God who Augustine said makes our hearts restless until we rest in this God. So it's back to the same old point - through the cross and suffering comes life and resurrection, and in no other way. The good news is that if God seems more than we want, we will discover the happy secret that this God is the God we really want. This is something we shall confront again and again as we now go on to the season of Lent.
We all can understand this. Once in a while we get more of Jesus than is comfortable. James Dittes has suggested that many people who always sit on the back pew don't want to feel too close to God. Sitting in the back pews is protection for them. Possibly, many of us who come to worship are not hankering for the blessed arms of Jesus. We sense that a genuine confrontation with our Creator and Sustainer can be a terribly shattering experience.
This brings us to our lection for today. God calls Moses to the mountain to give him the tablets of the Commandments. Moses stays on the mountain for forty days and nights. During this time God's glory is revealed as a "devouring fire" displayed to all the people at the foot of the mountain. We suspect that Moses and the people got more of God than they really wanted. We can imagine that they preferred a more comfortable God.
When Aristotle said, "Everything in moderation," he had his mind on ethics, not theology. But plenty of people follow Aristotle in their relation to God. We all want a "moderate" relationship with God, with no risky commitments. We shy away from a God who is always hounding us about social injustice and prejudice. We definitely flee from a God who keeps showing up in frightening neighbor need.
The biblical story says Moses felt he got more of God than he wanted. It began with the sidestepping, when, as God called him out of a quiet pastoral life to lead the Israelites to freedom. Moses was not keen on a God who would completely dominate his life. Other incidents in those wilderness years depict a Moses who would like to repeal the Exodus experience and return to his father--in--law's sheep. Such a God would be more manageable and less burdensome. If he didn't know that God was a "devouring fire" before he went up on the mountain, he knew it afterward. He got more God than he really wanted.
If Moses got more God than he really wanted, the Israelites who followed him out of Egypt felt the same. At one point they became so hungry and thirsty that they wished themselves back in the land of their oppression. They hadn't noticed that God's liberation might lead them out into danger and privation. Another time they wanted God to promise them prosperity and well--being. While Moses was away, they molded a golden calf, a symbol of success - fertility and abundant families and crops. This was as much of God as they wanted. They had little use for a God who not so gently shaped them into a people for all humanity, enabling humanity to see itself as chosen and elected for God's agenda. The bottom line is that God comes to us in this relentless way, often disturbing our comforts.
II
The biblical story gives us many instances of getting more God than anyone bargained for. Jonah's God became too much when Jonah was called to offer God's grace to the Ninevites who were off his religious radar screen. Jeremiah complained that God made him wish he had never been born. Job desperately wanted a God who balances the books on good and evil.
The Gospel of Jesus offered a God who was more than anyone wanted. Jesus' God was too inclusive for many. Jesus' God received moral outcasts, Samaritans, Roman occupation officers, some who made personal fortunes through cooperating with the Romans, and the sick who were thought to be ill because they were sinners. Jesus' acceptance and concern for these pointed toward a God who most folks just couldn't stand or want.
Jesus invited his death partly because he offered a "too much" God. His disciples sensed Jesus' God as dangerous to their hope of national restoration and personal reward. The God of Jesus was interested in larger issues than national dignity or personal prosperity. Jesus' God called for service and humility, and this was more than they wanted. At the end, offending those who stood for a limited, controllable God, a God who gave them exclusive rights to broker God's favors, sealed Jesus' fate. One said, "Jesus wasn't crucified because he said, 'Consider the lilies and how they grow.' He died because he said, 'Consider the thieves in the Temple and how they steal.' " Whatever Jesus' feelings about his people's national hopes and messianic dreams, he continually attacked the prevailing religious system because it offered a shield against the God who proves to be more than we want.
But is it thinkable that Jesus also had times when God became more than he wanted? Holy Week hints at this. In the Garden, Jesus prays that God might allow him to slip out of the city and avoid the trap his enemies have set for him. Faithfulness to God was almost more than he wanted. When pinned to the cross, he cried out, "My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?" Even if these words from Psalm 22 have been attributed to Jesus by Matthew for dramatic effect, they are true to the cross experience of Jesus, and all who go after him to their own cross. The God who calls us out can seem more than we want.
We can say the same for Paul and those to whom he preached. Initially, This "too much" God focusing on the life and death of Jesus was more than Paul wanted. In frantic efforts to protect himself, Paul tried to stamp out this overwhelming God--in--Jesus. Finally, Paul conceded and in the years following he proclaimed a "too much" God. Like Jesus, this got him into much difficulty, for this was more God than many of those in his audience wanted.
The biblical record is clear about this. God is a "devouring fire" demanding all that we have, are, and hope to be. For eternity, God will be a joyful, comforting glory, and the fulfillment of those scriptures promising that we will stand with saints and sing hymns to God forever. But for now the Bible says our experience of God is often less than quiet comfort. A young pastor wrote his Bishop and invited him to come to his congregation and conduct a Quiet Hour. The bishop replied that what this pastor's church needed was not a Quiet Hour but a tornado! God often is too much for us because God comes to us in "tornadic," "devouring fire" guises, just what we don't want. Luther preached that the New Testament is a theology of the cross, not a theology of glorious, triumphant, and unmixed blessings. Richard Niebuhr put it rather plainly in his famous quip: "We want a God without wrath, [who brings] men without sin into a kingdom without judgment, through the ministrations of Christ without a cross." Paul does say that we can have a peace "beyond all understanding." But this peace comes after turmoil, confusion, pain, and a touch of despair.
III
Albert Schweitzer was a Renaissance person. Son of a German Lutheran pastor, gifted in music, philosophy, theology, biblical studies, and a preacher, he has become one of the classic instances of Christian discipleship in our time. While still a young man, he wrote a provocative book on the historical Jesus that challenged the understanding of Jesus of both liberals and conservatives. Possessed of a high moral sense and troubled over the European domination of Africa and the suffering such colonial ventures caused, he entered medical school to train himself in tropical medicine so that he might directly minister to the sufferings of the African people.
In his autobiography he tells how his friends and colleagues were upset at his decision to become a medical missionary. They argued that his many talents would be lost if he were to be swallowed up by the tropical jungle of central Africa. If we were one of Schweitzer's friends, we would have put the same objections to him. But all these hesitations were born in trying to protect themselves from the "too much," "devouring fire" of God - the God who often seems a whole lot more than we have wanted.
The church in our time could listen up at this point. So much of the modern church - liberal or conservative - seems to be offering a God who backs away from the "devouring fire." The church has given itself over to the success standards of the world: membership growth, glitzy church buildings filled with all the latest technology, praise worship that seldom gets around to mission, sermons that avoid the critical questions of the thoughtful, along with a refusal to say that allegiance to the kingdom of God supercedes loyalty to our nation.
Staying within these limitations, the church serves up a God and accompanying beliefs; effectively protecting us from the "devouring fire" where God becomes more than we really want. But we are all poorer, for this "too much" God is the God whom we really desire. This is the same God who Augustine said makes our hearts restless until we rest in this God. So it's back to the same old point - through the cross and suffering comes life and resurrection, and in no other way. The good news is that if God seems more than we want, we will discover the happy secret that this God is the God we really want. This is something we shall confront again and again as we now go on to the season of Lent.
