Creekside Church Sermon of April 13, 2003 "Jesus Our Blessed Intruder" Mark 11:1-11	Rev. David Bibbee
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Have you ever heard of a welcome intrusion? I haven't, either. To be intruded upon is neither welcome nor wanted, but one of the important tasks of life is learning how to deal with them without being undone by them.

Seventeen years ago, the then fourteen year old violin prodigy Midori was playing Leonard Bernstein's complex, "Serenade" with the Boston Symphony Orchestra under the direction of, who else, but Leonard Bernstein. She attacked the composition with incredible intensity and artistry. But, into her performance the E string of her violin snapped. With great poise, she signaled the concert master who gave her his Stratovarius and she continued to play. But minutes later the same string on the Stratovarius broke. She once again traded violins and without missing a lick she completed the score. When she finished, the audience erupted into clapping, whistling, foot stomping, and thunderous ovation for her three violin feat. The broken strings did not stop her. Afterwards she seemed surprised by people who wanted Midori to explain why she responded as she did. "What was I supposed to do?" Midori said. "My strings broke and I didn't want to stop the music."

There is no way of knowing what intrusions might come our way or when they will come, but when they do, we can choose our response. I am not talking about the irritating annoyances like phone solicitations during supper or a thought that you want to write down, but someone asks you something, and when you sit down to retrieve the thought, it has vanished. No, I am thinking about seismic intrusions like, "I don't love you anymore. I'm leaving," or the call in the middle of the night from a too steady voice, "Your son is in jail for driving while intoxicated. He struck a jogger who was pronounced dead at the scene." I'm thinking about the man who has given his company his all. He is summoned to the manager's office and is told, "You have been a valued asset to the company, but we are changing directions, and your services are no longer needed. Here is your severance check. Clean out your desk by 5:00." I am thinking about the woman who received test results from her doctor over the phone. "The biopsy confirms our suspicions. It's an inoperable mass. I'm transferring you to my nurse who will set up a radiation schedule for you."

Intrusions - they thrust themselves upon us without our permission. They test our character, our faith, our resolve, and ultimately we decide our response. Do we buckle beneath the burden or stand up and go on with our lives - if not stronger than before, then at least wiser for having been through it. This is why our faith in Christ is so important. "Fear not, I have overcome the world," he said. "Plant your seed in good soil where it can take root, draw nourishment, and grow," he said. Paul tells us we can overcome all things through Christ who strengthens us. I'm speaking to many of you whose lives have been intruded upon, and you go on, your lives a testimony to the sufficiency of Jesus' mercy and love.

These are intrusions we can overcome, but not all intrusions should be overcome. Some intrusions should overcome us.

Palm Sunday is one of those Sundays from which we have inoculated ourselves. Repeated exposure has strengthened our resistance. "Palm Sunday? We know that story. Jesus goes to Jerusalem on a spindly-legged little donkey. The crowds are cheering. People throw their coats on the ground before him and others wave palms." "And then?" someone may ask. "We know how it ended, too. It's a shame something else couldn't have worked out for Jesus. A real shame. But it is so nice to see the little ones walking down the aisle waving their palms, imagining Jesus is right here and they are doing it for him."

Well, he is right here, and what we do in worship is for him. How does that grab you? If it doesn't, imagine this. The sanctuary doors crash open and the Iraqi Republican Guard pours in brandishing Kalishnikov rifles. Outside you see Al Kaeda operatives surrounding the building. Walking side by side down the center aisle comes a cigar chomping Saddam Hussein and a serene-faced Osama bin Laden. "You'll do as we say," they declare. A collective gasp comes from the congregation. You hear someone behind you say, "Honey, I don't see any of this in the bulletin!"

Would you feel intruded upon? Intrusive isn't a word we associate with Jesus. In the gospels he is pictured moving in and out of towns and villages and mingling with the people discreetly. He wants the disciples to remain hushed about his identity. He wants no fanfare. But when he made his palm-waving entry into Jerusalem, there was nothing discreet about it at all.

The disciples did all they could to dissuade him from going. They could see the writing on the wall. But God so loved the world that he gave his only son, and Jesus so loved the whole lot of us that he wasn't going to leave us to figure life out all by ourselves. Jesus did not ride into Jerusalem to see the sights, or get some long overdue adulation. We see another side of Jesus on Palm Sunday - not the, "Come unto me and I will give you rest," Jesus. Not a, "Behold I stand at the door and knock Jesus," waiting patiently in hopes that someone will let him in. He didn't have that kind of time. His donkey ride marked the beginning of his end.

Jesus didn't bother asking or knocking. He came barging into Jerusalem to make institutional religion and Imperial Rome deal with him. Watch out when he comes clip clopping on that little donkey. He won't hesitate to intrude upon our controlled, domesticated worship. Just when we think we are efficiently managing church, he barges into board meetings and preempts our regularly scheduled reports to remind us as the church that we belong to him, and that what he wants from us is not just participation or membership, or 2.5% of our income. He wants us! He wants our prayer, our worship, our commitment to learn his word. The blessed intruder wants us, loves us, and has designs for our lives.

Think for a moment about the teachers who had the greatest influence upon you. Did they just spit out facts and figures and then ask you to mentally regurgitate it for a grade? Did the present the material and say, "There it is…take it or leave it."? Or did they make you their project? Great teachers have passion and conviction that what they teach matters, and they want it to matter to you. They care too much to leave you alone. They get pushy and intrusive. They are in your face.

Jesus loves us too much to leave us be. He paid a dear price to have us. He's depending upon us to hold up our corner and daily turn and return to him. If we do, there will be no staying the same. We will reach out to him and others because we cannot help ourselves. When he intrudes, there is no telling what might happen.

A young pastor visited an old woman from his church who was very ill in the hospital. She lay with her head tilted back and her mouth gaped open, fighting for breath. Since she was so sick, he didn't stay long. "Would you like to have prayer?" She gave a barely noticeable nod. "What do you want me to pray?" he said. She replied, "Pray that I will be healed." He prayed something like, "Lord, if it be your will, heal this sick sister and restore her to your service. But if it is not your will, help her accept her situation with trust. Amen."

The old lady then shot straight up in bed, opened her eyes, slid out of bed, stood and ran toward the nurses station crying, "I'm healed! I really think I've been healed!" The stunned pastor walked across the parking lot to his car and opened the door. But before getting in he looked up to the sky and said, "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

God's intrusions upset our equilibrium. Jesus upset the religious and political equilibrium in Jerusalem when he rode like a strange king into the city. He drove the money- changers from the temple. He stepped on the toes of the powerful. What was done to him is what our world always does to those who threaten the order of things.

The court handed down a ruling this week that affirmed the prohibition against cross burning in Indiana saying that the intimidation it creates outweighs the law protecting free speech. An Osceola resident who organized community support against the Ku Klux Klan was asked in a radio interview to respond to the ruling. She was delighted by it, and then said, "It's regrettable that we are still fighting this battle. I thought we had moved beyond all that."

There is a lot we have not moved beyond. But into the hatred of the world barges the blessed intruder. His disciples tried to talk him out of it, hoping to appeal to some self-preservation instinct, but his will wasn't his own. He loved us too much to leave us to ourselves.

In 2001 there was a devastating earthquake in Armenia. Trapped under tons of concrete was a mother and her little child. When the building collapsed they were sandwiched between two great concrete slabs, with just enough space to allow them to huddle together. They spent a week in that tiny space. It was bitter cold, dark, and they had no food or water.

The little girl kept pleading with her mother for water. The mother was desperate, and then she found a piece of glass. She cut her finger and urged her daughter to suck it. It was the only liquid to keep the child alive. The little girl begged, "Please, Momma, cut another finger for me." Mother and daughter were eventually rescued. If it hadn't been for the mother's sacrifice, the daughter would not have survived.

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