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Creekside Church
Sermon of APril
20, 2008
"Seeing
All There Is to See"
John
14:1-14
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Rev.
David Bibbee
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For
pastors, an important part of the learning curve in a new church is
finding out which families are "inter-related." If you are
not careful, you could make a harmless, innocent remark about a member
only to have the person you're addressing take it the wrong way and
report back to the person in question -- who just happens to be her
sister.
In seminary,
the term we used for these interconnected relationships was "family
systems." Learning to navigate Creekside's system was a challenge
and a half. LaVonne Myers and Mary Lou Martin are sisters. Betty
Lamb and Roger Stutzman are brother and sister. Wylan Schultz is
Myrtis Justiniano's sister. A Gordon son, Mike, married a Kilmer
granddaughter, Aundria, who is also a Weldy daughter. A Gordon brother,
the uncle of the Gordon son, who married a Weldy daughter, married
a Peffley. Are you with me so far? Curt Miller is the son of Norma
Miller but neither is related to Myron Miller, and Paul Pletcher
is NOT related to Bill Pletcher nor is Keith Hostetler related to
Ned Hostetler.
Some connections
are a breeze to make, especially between parents and children. Angi
Marcin speaks with the same vocal inflection and intonations as
her father, John Zerbe. Karen Gilliland Gabrielse looks like her
mother, Marilee and talks like her father, Walt.
Mark Houser
is a member at the Crest Manor Church of the Brethren. Mark was
separated from his mother at birth and adopted. After college, he
wanted to contact her, and his parents helped. Mark found that she
was living on the west coast. One afternoon I stopped at the Housers'
for a short visit. A woman I had not met opened the door. I immediately
knew she was Mark's mother. They looked alike. Their speech patterns
were the same. They had the same laugh. They had the same mannerisms.
It was a convincing case for genetics as a determining factor of
who we are. Whether resemblances are due to genetics or environment,
the parent/child bond is a strong one.
"If you
know me, you will know my Father also." Jesus said this to
the disciples. It comes from the place in John's gospel called,
"the farewell discourses." Jesus was not one for short
good-byes. There was a lot to tell the disciples, and he took over
three chapters to do it.
"Don't
be troubled," he said. I doubt that they heard him. They were
too frightened of events that were impinging upon them. What would
become of Jesus, and what would become of them? "Believe in
God and me." They believed. Their belief was a shaky belief
in the face of the impending storm. "I'll get your rooms ready.
Where I am going, you'll be there, too
I'll be back to get
you." Jesus assured them. Thomas wasn't one to pretend to know
what he didn't know. He asked Jesus, "Where will you take us?"
"We're going to my Father's house. You know the directions."
Thomas replied. "NO WE DON'T!"
Then Phillip
joined the conversation. "Show us the Father, and we'll be
satisfied," he said. "Show you the Father? Show you the
Father!? Come on, Phil -- I've been with you three years, and you
still don't know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the father."
When you look
at Jesus, you are looking at God. This was the core confession of
the early Christian faith. Jesus wasn't like the local deities,
only better. Jesus didn't seem like God. Jesus didn't resemble God.
He didn't do a really good impersonation of God. He wasn't a spokesperson,
envoy, or ambassador for God. The first Christians had the audacity
to say, "Jesus IS God." In Jesus we see all we need to
see of God. In Jesus, God walked among us, pitched his tent, gave
us a good look into God's heart and in the process filled our hearts
with his presence.
I remember the
first time I saw God. I was just a kid at the time, and I was rather
disappointed. My Grandma LeMay was into scrapbooks -- not like the
DreamWorks productions that are so popular today. Her scrapbooks
contained pictures and series from newspapers and magazines that
interested her. She asked me if I wanted to see God. I remember
the anticipation I felt as she turned the pages. "At last --
the Almighty." It was a photograph of a painting by an artist
who saw some clouds that in his mind formed a momentary God look-alike.
The painting was just a cheesy "old-man-in-a-robe-sitting-on-a-cloud"
God. I still hadn't seen God, but at least I knew how God didn't
look.
Let's suppose
that God gave the world a good look at God's self. Let's suppose
that no one died in the process, something, which the Hebrews believed,
would certainly happen to the person who laid an eye on God. To
finally see God -- the Almighty and omnipotent, the Creator of the
celestial spheres, the Potentate of time -- that would be a great
event, wouldn't it? It would finally blow the arguments of atheism
to smithereens. The atheists would be dumbfounded -- along with
half the people who show up for church on Sunday.
The existence
or non-existence of God would be laid to rest. That would be a great
thing
or would it? The mystery God would be peeled away. We
would break the commandment about making idols. The Hebrews danced
half-naked around a golden calf and we would sell commemorative
T-shirts and collector's plates. Images of God would be plastered
everywhere. Corporations would fight for "endorsement"
deals. God's face would be turned into a multi-billion dollar merchandising
enterprise. God would become our "trinket."
The awesome,
unfathomable, timeless God would no longer be holy, transcendent,
or bring us to our knees in awe. Instead of being an object of praise,
he would be another object to manipulate for our own purposes.
A mystic named
Rudolph Otto called God, "the Wholly Other." He said that
all constructs of God are desperately inadequate. Our language,
our metaphors, our poetry, our religions are as adequate in describing
God as a house of cards in a tornado. "We see as much of God
as a chicken that is still in the egg." 1 John 4:12 says, "No
one has ever seen God." John 1: 18 likewise says, "No
one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son who is close to the
Father's heart, who has made him known."
Our search for
God and the longing to see God brings us to Jesus. "In him
the presence of God was and is pleased to dwell." The issue
for us is whether we will believe it and embrace it. Are we prepared
to go out on a limb and live as though believing that Jesus is God
and God is Jesus matters? It's a huge claim to say that Jesus' words
are God's Word -- that everything he said and did was God's saying
and doing -- that Jesus and God are indivisible -- that he came
to us, walked with us, died for us, and has prepared a place for
us as the surest sign that God loves us.
The issue is
believing Jesus' response to Thomas' question: "How can we
know the way?" Jesus told him, "I am the way, and the
truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
It's a tough text for some of us. We're "turned off" by
the arrogant, insensitive ways some people use Jesus' words to condemn
others who do not believe as they do. Not wanting to be associated
with "those" Christians, we go to the other extreme of
believing that God always "keeps the light on" and never
locks the door.
I've seen Sunday
school classes in our church end in anger and tears over arguments
about this verse. Some say, "Jesus is absolutely the only way
to get to heaven and all other ways lead straight to hell."
Others say, "Jesus is the very best way, but who are we to
say there are no other legitimate paths to truth and ultimately
to God?"
To shed light
on the passage and not reinforce a zealous preconceptions of it
we must note the "pulse of the passage." Earlier I said
the disciples were anxious. Jesus' predictions were ominous. The
religious leaders were conspiring against him. The disciples were
scared and vulnerable. He was hinting that he would soon be leaving
them. Knowing they were frightened he comforted them. "Don't
let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe in me
I'm leaving to prepare a place for you."
Jesus' words
were pastoral, comforting and reassuring. Why then do some Christians
turn, "I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one can
come to the Father except through me," into a harsh exclusion?
It doesn't fit the spirit of the text or the spirit of Jesus. He
isn't trashing other beliefs or religions. The only religion Jesus
criticized was his own! If he denounced anyone, it was the self-righteous
Pharisees who were bad-mouthing people they thought were beneath
them.
Why don't we
hear Jesus' assuring Thomas and Phillip and the disciples and present
company included, that the right path and the secure path is Jesus'
path? Why do we turn Jesus' words into a warning instead of encouragement?
Someone suggested this as the reason -- "Calling the roll is
a lot easier than follow the leader." "When the roll is
called up yonder I'll be there. Sorry for the rest of you."
Dare I say there
are Christians who arrogantly tell others, "Jesus is the only
way to God," who have themselves forgotten the way of Jesus?
Jesus asks them what he asked Phillip -- "Have I been with
you all this time and you still don't get it?" Arrogance wasn't
Jesus' way. He befriended those the Pharisees rejected. He didn't
paint them pictures of hell. He ate and drank with them. He healed
them. He pointed to a better path -- a hard one where people learned
to live and give sacrificially, carry crosses, wage peace, and love
people into the Kingdom.
Bible scholar
Sarah Breuer says, "I'd like to think that Christian's dreams
of the future are more like the book, The End of Poverty than Left
Behind. Anxiety and fireworks usually sell better, though."
In her memoir,
Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott writes about why she stays
so close to her church. She and her son Sam missed church maybe
ten times in twelve years. Her pastor, Veronica, often sang from
the pulpit and told stories from her childhood. One was about the
time when she was seven years old and her best friend got lost.
The little girl ran up and down the streets of the big town where
they lived, but couldn't find a single landmark. She was scared.
Finally a policeman stopped to help. He put her in the passenger
seat and they drove around until she finally saw her church. She
pointed it out to the policeman, and told him firmly, "You
can let me out now. This is my church, and I can always find my
way home from here."
Lamott writes,
"And that is why I have stayed so close to mine-- because no
matter how bad I am feeling, how lost or lonely or frightened, when
I see the faces of the people at my church, when I hear their tawny
voices, I can always find my way home."
Want to see
God? Look further than Jesus. You need not blaze your own trail.
If you know him, you will know the Father also. Stick with him and
you'll find your way home.
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