Creekside Church Sermon of February 20, 2005 "The Framework of Faith: Worshiping at Heaven's Gate" Genesis 28:10-17	Rev. David Bibbee
Send this sermon to a friend

In 1958 she painted a picture called, "Ladder to the Moon." Against a turquoise sky, she painted a handmade wooden ladder suspended in the sky. On the horizon was the black silhouette of the Pedernal Mountains that she saw everyday from her New Mexico ranch. Above the ladder was a pearl-colored half moon. To the Pueblo Indians, ladders symbolized the link between the earth and cosmic forces. Georgia O'Keeffe didn't explain the meaning of Ladder to the Moon, but those who study her art believe she was making a religious statement.

Her inspiration may have come from a dream. It wasn't the first time someone dreamt of ladders. Jacob did. You remember Jacob--the twin of Esau, the sons of Issac and Rebecca. Esau was first born, but Jacob contested by grabbing Esau's heel, and he wouldn't let go until the obstetrician pulled them apart. Esau was the rugged, outdoors type, and a little slow on the draw. Jacob was mama's boy, and very clever. You remember that Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright for a bowl of soup, and with Rebecca's help, Jacob tricked his blind father, Isaac, into giving him the blessing which belonged to Esau.

The covenant God made with Abraham and Isaac included Jacob. It makes you wonder about God. Jacob, the crafty, conniving weasel was the one through whom God's covenant would continue. Go figure. Do you suppose that God wanted to show that whatever good came from this arrangement would be due to him, and not Jacob? Something big is unfolding here that only God can see.

Esau hated Jacob. If ever he got his burly hands around little brother's neck, he would squeeze the life out of him. Jacob knew it, and was on the run. Between Beersheba and Haran, Genesis says he found a "certain place" to spend the night. A certain place is code for, "no place at all." Alone in the middle of a pitch-black nowhere, Jacob used a rock for a pillow and fell asleep.

Then came the dream-the one we used to sing about--"We are climbing, Jacob's ladder… Every round goes, higher, higher." He saw a ladder that reached from earth to heaven. The traffic on it was heavy-- a procession of angels walking up and down. Apparently they were wingless angels who needed to take the stairs. From the top of the ladder, God promised to give Jacob the land on which he slept, descendants like the dust of the earth, and the promise to never forsake him.

When he woke, his heart was in his throat. He said, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I didn't know it." Jacob received a revelation, but what I want you to consider isn't the revelation's content. Look at Jacob's response. In the Message, it says, "... Jacob was terrified. He whispered in awe, Incredible. Wonderful. Holy. This is God's house. This is the gate of heaven."

Jacob responded instinctively in worship. He wasn't on a padded pew. He didn't have a bulletin or hymnal. Worship didn't begin with prelude and end with a postlude. Jacob met God, and his impulse wasn't to dissect the experience, analyze it or theologize it. He did the only thing he could do- he fell to his knees and poured out praise.

A Freudian psychologist might say Jacob's dream was a product of unresolved issues locked in his unconscious, and that the dream was trying to purge the guilt. But, nothing suggests that Jacob felt even a wisp of guilt about his actions. Even with a rock for a pillow, he slept like a baby. Jacob realized he was in the presence of God and he responded the only way he could-- in worship.

Worship, the second mark of discipleship, is our response to an encounter with God. In worship we gather around the Word, we remember our calling, we affirm what we believe to be most true, we receive God's grace, we are fed and strengthened to go out into the world to serve and love as God loves. Worship to disciples is what food is to the body. We can no more worship occasionally and expect to be spiritually fit than we can eat occasionally and expect to be physically fit.

Worship isn't confined to Sunday morning, brick colonial churches, or gothic cathedrals. Jacob was in a desolate place, and found that it was a dwelling place of God. He called that patch of sand, "God's house, and" - "the gate of Heaven."

In January 1977 I went with a class from Manchester College to Bogotá, Columbia. One Sunday we climbed to the top of Cerro de Monserrate, a high mountain with a spectacular view of Bogotá in the valley below. At the summit is a church and a famous statue called, "The Fallen Christ." Inside the church, crutches, canes, and leg braces adorn the sanctuary walls. People who didn't need them anymore left them behind. They made a pilgrimage to the church, prayed before the Fallen Christ, and were healed.

Climbing Monserrate was a challenge. There was a steady stream of people going both directions on a narrow path. Several were crawling on their hands and feet, not from exhaustion, but as an act of reverence. Others climbed barefoot, carrying frail, old people or sick children on their backs. The church on Montserrat was beautiful, but my mind was on the path, and seeing people with dirty, bleeding hands and feet climbing for a healing, and not a scenic view like the rest of us.

I had leg cramps and was sucking wind in the thin mountain air. But my little struggle was nothing compared to others. I wondered what it would take to get me to climb a mountain on my knees. As I looked at the people on all fours I realized that for me God's presence wasn't on top of Monserrate, in the church, or at the Fallen Christ. God's presence was in these people, and seeing them was a moment of worship for me.

You don't come across a burning bush every day. You might stand on a ladder to clean your downspouts, but outside of a Georgia O'Keeffe's painting, you haven't seen ladders floating in midair. But you have seen and felt things. You've had experiences that don't fit into the usual categories, and you're not alone. A Gallup poll showed that nearly 47 million Americans have had what they call a religious or mystical experience. To borrow Jacob's expression, they stood at heaven's gate.

In my Christmas Eve message, I mentioned the term, "thin places." It comes from Celtic Christianity that evolved in Ireland and Scotland. The Celts believed there were places where the divide between heaven and earth was minimal. One such place is where land meets water, or a doorway that forms the meeting of inside and outside. Their calendars reminded them of the thin places between the changing seasons. Other thin places included holy trees, mountains, or springs with water bubbling from the depths. At these special times and places the Celts believed the veil was stretched so thin that you could see through to the other side.

Let's lighten up and talk about quantum mechanics. Physicists in this field are working on something called "string theory." They theorize that if we could see the most miniscule elements that form all matter, we would find networks of pulsing, vibrating strings of energy. If it can be proven that these strings exist, physicists say, they would have found the "theory of everything." It could mean we are living in just one of thirteen or more parallel universes. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry. I don't understand me either. But a question posed by this theory is, "What could happen if one universe brushed against another?

We already know the answer. When heaven impinges on earth; when meet God in ordinary events and realize that God is not just remote but involved in our lives; when an overwhelming awareness of Christ's presence embraces us, evaporating our cares and concerns, WE WORSHIP. Gathering with other Christians for worship in a sanctuary is a necessary aspect of discipleship, which does get us into touch with God. But it happens in the corridors of hospitals or nursing homes. It happens while meditating on a work of art, while listening to beautiful music or the song of a bird, floating down a scenic river, watching a sunset or gazing into a starry night, holding a cup of coffee in your lap, watching the morning mist roll off the lake, watching someone climb a mountain on hands and knees, or like Jacob, in a certain place in the middle of the night.

Years ago, a Harvard Professor named William James, wrote a book called, The Varieties of Religious Experience. He discovered that spiritual encounters were far more prevalent than he thought. James identified four characteristics that are common among those who have them. One, they are INEFFIBLE. They defy being described or explained in words. Those who have them resort to saying, "It was like..." Two, they are TRANSCIENT. Such experiences don't last hours or days. They take only seconds, going as quickly as they came. Three, they are PASSIVE. An encounter with God isn't something we order or whip up like a cake recipe. We don't create them. They just happen. And four, they are NOETIC. This means that because of the meeting, we know something we didn't know before. We gain new insight into life. We are given wisdom to benefit others and ourselves.

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.
I can feel his mighty power and his grace.
I can feel the touch of angel's wings; I see glory in each face.
Surely, the presence of the Lord is in this place.

When we sing these words we think of what happens here, in this sanctuary, surrounded by familiar faces. Then we worship. We know the Lord is in this place. But like Jacob, we have and will have times when we say, "God is in THIS place, and I didn't even know it."

I know a mother who teaches her children to be on the lookout for thin places. She learned that a sure way to get no response from children and adolescents is to ask, "How was your day?" "Oh, it was all right." "Okay." "Not bad." "I've had better." She tries again. "Well, what did you do today?" "Nothin'." Instead she asks, "Where did you see God today?" "My teacher helped me with a problem." "A kid kept two boys from fighting." "Something Jesus said popped into my head when I was feeling sad." "Eddie Simmers, the slow kid, got 100% on a test and the teacher put in on the bulletin board." "Our teacher stopped math class and told us to go to the window to see a rainbow."

Thomas Merton said, "Life is simple. We live in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through us all the time." There are no shortages of thin places. We haven't seen God in all his glory, but in unexpected times and places a little opening appears, enough to let the light to get through. We see when we pay attention, and ask the question, "Where did I see God today."

When it happens, no one will need to tell us what to do or say. We'll know. It happened to a cheat named Jacob. You might end up sounding like him. "Well I'll be... God is right here, and I didn't even know it!" And a wave of awe might wash over you, and you will worship, saying, "Incredible. Wonderful. Holy. This is God's house. This is the gate of Heaven."

All of the sermons that have appeared in text form on our Web Site since August 1996 are available here in the On-Line version. Use the search engine below to find the sermon you want. You may search by date, sermon title, or content. The sermons are full-text searchable.

Sermon Search:



Exact phrase    All words (AND)    Any word (OR)