Creekside Church Sermon of March 28, 2004 "Divine Guidance" John 12:1-8	Rev. David Bibbee
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Mel Gibson's film, The Passion of the Christ, has created a stir since it was released on Ash Wednesday. It has generated discussions about Christianity in circles where it has not been spoken of before. Whether the film will have a lasting impact, particularly among those who know little or nothing about the faith, remains to be seen. One thing it is doing, however, is enlarging people's understanding of passion. In our sex-saturated culture, passion pertains to the hot chemistry generated between people loosely defined as, "lovers."

Passion has a much deeper meaning in light of the last hours of Jesus' life. This is the Sunday before Palm Sunday, or, as we sometimes call it, "Passion Sunday." Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem. Attempts at dissuading him have fallen on deaf ears. His defining hour lies ahead.

On the way, Jesus stops at the home of his friends-Lazarus, Martha, and Mary. Maybe a family member or friend with little time to live asked to spend one last time with you. Such moments are cherished, and underscore the goodness of the relationship. Jesus sat down to supper one last time with his closest friends.

Imagine you are among the guests. Across from you sits Lazarus. The table talk begins with what everyone's been up to. After most had talked about their recent cruises, work, families, and health, someone asked Lazarus, "What have you been up to, Laz? You're looking good. Been working out? How do you feel?" Now things get really interesting. "Well…. Lazarus said, "I was dead for a few days last week. Other than that, I can't complain." "Dead!? Did you say dead? If we had known, we would have sent the sisters some flowers and a card." "Yea! If we knew you had been dead a few days we would have sent a 'Good to have you among the living' card, or something."

As usual, Martha was in the kitchen, putting final touches on the standing rib roast and garnishing the Jell-O mold. The kitchen was Martha's domain, not Mary's. Mary was into spiritual things. As Martha fetched the second course, Mary knelt at Jesus' feet and anointed them with an entire container of expensive perfume. With no concern about appearances, she let down her long hair and wiped Jesus' feet. The house was filled with the sweet fragrance, along with stunned silence.

A woman from church invited me to go with her to visit a Greek family she had befriended. We entered the house, and after everyone hugged Marie, she introduced me as her priest. "Ahhhhhh!" they went, and beginning with Grandpa George, each one bowed and kissed the back of my right hand. Then they sat me down and stuffed me with Greek delicacies. It seemed a little over-board, compared the greetings I get in Brethren homes-- "Here…give me your coat. Do you want a cup of coffee?"

When Jesus was present, you never knew what to expect. It is reasonable to assume the disciples were at the meal, but John only mentioned one-Judas. Incensed by Mary's excessive, Judas asked, "What do you suppose all that wasted perfume cost? How many mouths do you suppose it would feed at the Faith Mission?" Jesus would certainly appreciate his reasoning. "Judas is right, Mary. Shame on your waste."

In the Gospel of John, things are not what they seem. There are two levels of understanding events. Living bread isn't bread to fill the stomach. Living water does more than slake thirst. Literal words, material things and events point to spiritual realities. Water turns into wine. The Word becomes flesh.

In John's gospel, sight takes insight. Truly seeing takes another set of eyes. It was an ordinary dinner party at the home of friends, but the guy with gravy on his chin was resurrected by the honored guest-the sign of a resurrection yet to come. Mary wasn't just the flighty one who daydreamed about impractical, improbable things. She alone understood what lay ahead for Jesus. Her's wasn't an act of waste, but an act of worship. Mary's anointing of Jesus was also preparation for his burial. The house was filled with the fragrance of prefume, but mingled with it was the smell of Jesus' death. Judas bemoaned the plight of the poor, but his concern was smoke and mirrors, hiding the heart of a betrayer.

There is more to life than we let on. Things happen. Events have no significance beyond themselves. There are no powers directing the course of our lives other than the decisions we make, plus luck, and Doris Day still sings: "Que cera, cera, whatever will be will be…"

But there are times when we know there is more to life. C.S. Lewis said that our yearning, our longing, our dissatisfaction with life, our hunger for something beyond all we can possibly possess is a clue that we were made for another world. Paul told the Corinthians that if there is no life beyond life, we of all people should be most pitied. He said they were in the world, but not of it. We keep one eye on the life God gives us in the world we walk as strangers, while the other eye catches glimpses of the deeper reality that is hidden in plain sight.

A writer named Carmen Corde told a story about a woman who gave birth to a blind son. She gave explicit instructions to family, friends, and neighbors never to mention the words "color," "light," or "sight," in his hearing. She wanted him to believe that his dark world was the only world, and there was no such thing as blindness. He grew without a clue of his disability. Her plan worked, until the day a little girl jumped over the fence and talked to the boy, using all the forbidden words. The fragile world of his mother's design crumbled, and the boy stood at the threshold of a world he could scarcely imagine.

We are that girl jumping the world's fence, speaking words that haven't been heard about a reality that hasn't been considered, much less seen. The world is a mess and getting messier. Attempts at stabilizing it with bigger bombs are de-stabilizing it. Prospects are not promising. We should be climbing the fence, telling all who will listen about the God of the universe who is a God of love, who is even now working out his purposes on the pages of history. The God of Jesus is personal to the point of guiding our steps through life, if we seek him.

One of the daily exercises in our Traveling the Prayer Paths of Jesus series suggested writing as much as you could remember of the previous hour of your life. What did you do? What did you think? In what way did the presence of God come to the forefront of the hour as you looked back upon it? How do you know God is speaking, acting, and guiding your life? It's a matter of paying attention.

Joan Chittister is a Benedictine nun who gives the Vatican fits. Listen to what she says about paying attention to God in the specific moments of life:

We are part of a holy universe, not its creators and not its rulers. God has done the creating, God does the judging, and God waits for us to realize that.

Everything we are, everything that is said, everything that happens to us is some kind of a call from God. In fact, everything that happens is God's call to us either to accept what we should not change or to change what we should not accept so that the Presence of God can flourish where we are… Finding God is a matter of living every minute of life to its ultimate.

There is more to life than we let on. The imprint of God's creating finger and the scent of God' love is everywhere. We can see it and smell it-- when we pay attention. We can sense God's guidance, when we pay attention.

While in seminary I was a youth pastor at a large Presbyterian church. The young lady who was president of the youth group was from a wealthy family. Her father was the CEO of a major railroad. He never attended church. Her mother was a flashy, fashion-conscious woman who attended two churches and seasoned her speech with numerous references to "God" and "Jesus." She once told me about God's guiding hand in her life. "Whenever I ask for help, he always comes through. Many times I've gone shopping in Chicago at Sachs 5th Avenue and Nieman-Marcus, and couldn't find a parking place. So I drive around the block and pray, 'Lord Jesus, you know I need a parking place. Please provide one.' The next thing I know, I see a car pull out and I pull in."

The Lord forgave me for what I almost said. "No wonder God isn't more involved in the world. He's been too busy finding you parking places!"

God, give us the attentiveness to sense your guidance in the simple, seemingly insignificant moments of our lives. A couple weeks ago, the person who was to share their God-Instance in worship had a conflict and couldn't do it. It happens. That week, I became a first-time grandfather, and in the flurry that accompanies such a moment, I forget to ask someone else to do it. I didn't realize it until I got to church. At that moment I knew I would do it.

It was hard to share, given that circumstances surrounding Haily's birth were not what her parents had hoped. But that all disappeared as I witnessed her birth, something I had not expected to do. It was an incredible moment, and a healing one as well. Though it was difficult to tell you, doing it was also a healing moment. Why did I go to the hospital at the hour I did? Was the reason someone couldn't do a God-Instance because I was supposed to do it? Looking at the whole scenario, I believe God did have a guiding hand in it. I can't prove it. I just know it.

In his latest book, Rumors of Another World, Phillip Yancey tells the story of a nun in a contemplative order that sent postcards containing art commentary to an English publisher. It turns out she was an amateur art critic. She had corresponded with other art critics, but none had met her. They all agreed she had remarkable insight.

One of them went to see her and found her living in a plywood trailer on the grounds of a Carmelite convent. Most of her day was spent in prayer, except for two hours during which she translated Medieval Latin manuscripts and studied art from postcard reproductions. Her named is Wendy Beckett, a sixty-something woman who had big teeth, wore oversized glasses and a full habit. Someone at the British Broadcasting Company got the idea of sending Sister Wendy on a tour of great art museums and filming her as she saw original works of art for the first time. The show became a sensation in England, and some of you may have watched her on PBS. Her books on art became best sellers.

Her monastic life didn't change. She lived in silence, praying ten hours a day. She didn't have a television or read newspapers because she said she preferred focusing on God and not the outside world. Yancy says that she looks at art, especially religious art, with two eyes. Her left eye sees strokes on the canvas, composition, light, and color. With her right eye she sees aesthetics, the art's spiritual dimension, and the artist's intent. Sister Wendy's to "see" is the result of years spent in prayer. She learned to look beneath the surface in a world that is stuck on surface superficiality.

Sister Wendy and other spiritual seekers like her have discovered that life isn't neatly divided into the natural and supernatural. Nature and spirit are different sides of the same reality. The extraordinary is nestled in the ordinary moments of life.

The story is told about a famous concert pianist on the night of a performance. I don't know if it happened or not, but it's a good story because it makes a point. Prior to the artist's entrance, a boy climbed up on the stage, sat down at the piano, and began playing "Chopsticks." The cultured crowd was mortified. The artist then came on stage smiling. He stood behind the boy and whispered in his ear. "Keep playing. No matter what I do, keep playing." Then all around, above, beneath, and through "Chopsticks" with mistakes and all, the pianist was a masterpiece of brilliance and depth. They ended together and the audience erupted into thunderous applause.

I take this as a parable of what God can fashion in our lives. God takes our simple tunes played out in common ways in the common days of our lives. God takes the missed notes and mistakes and painful blunders and turns it all into a beautiful piece of music.

He leads us. He guides us, even though we can't with certainty say how. He leads us. He guides us…if we'll just keep playing and looking beneath the surface of life with the eyes of faith.

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