The Promise of Restoration

 

September 24, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Psalm 145:1-9, Joel 2:23-32

You’ve probably heard the old saying, “for want of a nail, the kingdom was lost.” It’s an admonition to pay attention to small things, since they have a tendency to affect bigger and bigger things. If you’re not familiar with it, I’ll share the whole saying with you, with this preface: “for want of” is an old linguistic construction that means “because [something] was lacking” or “because [something] was missing.” This version is one of the variations in Ben Franklin’s “Poor Richard’s Almanack”, though versions have been found written in French and German as far back as the 13^th Century.

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.[1]

I very much appreciate the way this saying illustrates the need to care for small things in order to affect bigger things – even though I struggle with this myself. As a person with Attention Deficit Disorder, I can either focus on the very large or the very small, but trying to hold both means losing both. It’s a good, humbling reminder, though, that I can’t do everything on my own. Fortunately, none of us have to do everything alone – for God is always with us, encouraging us to support each other.

In 2020, a number of small things went wrong to create a great disaster in the world. At the beginning of the year, a BBC/Netflix documentary crew was in Ethiopia to film the beginnings of the year’s gregarious locust swarm. A combination of warm and wet weather had let the swarms grow more than usual – and the 2019 civil war in Yemen meant that there were fewer containment efforts for the swarm. When the pandemic hit, the documentary crew left their cameras and drones, and coordinated with local Kenyans to get this footage of the beginnings of the locust swarm, on the march and beginning its flight. [2]

[BBC/NETFLIX - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAI6W2TOkh4]

This super-swarm of billions of locusts is, fortunately, rare. It’s the largest recorded in over 70 years, and finally ended due to rainstorms in the Himalayas weighing down the locusts and preventing them from continuing beyond the mountains. But seeing these insects changes how we hear the book of the prophet Joel these thousands of years later. Joel, it seems, is preaching in the aftermath of a locust swarm that has devastated Israel after the return from exile. This terrible event has destroyed entire fields of grain and grapes, meaning that there is not enough food and wine for the people, nor enough even to make sacrifices of food at the temple. The people of the land are justifiably worried – how will they survive? How will they survive as a family? As a nation? Will God forgive them for not being able to make the sacrifices at the temple?

Yet, after reminding the people of the terrible destruction they have faced, Joel brings good news: God promises to restore all that has been lost and more.

“Rejoice, and be glad… for God has given you the early rain in its season and sent down showers for you, both early and late, as previously. The granaries are full of grain, the vats spill over with new wine and oil. I will make up for you the years the swarming locust consumed – the jumper, the finisher, the chewer – my mighty force that I sent against you. You will have all the food you need to be satisfied...”[3]

 God’s action, in seeing the destruction and pain of the people, is not to turn God’s back on the people – but instead to reach out and give exactly what is needed to restore them. Yes, the loss of crops is terrible – but God sends the early rains to replace them quickly. When God says, “I repay you for the years the swarming locust consumed,” this is language that in Hebrew is used to settle debts; it’s like a divine insurance payout.

Now, when Joel refers to the pouring out of the spirit, he’s making a reference to other parts of the story. In Ezekiel 39, God says, “I will not hide my face anymore from them, when I pour out my Spirit upon the house of Israel.” And even earlier, in Numbers 11, Moses says, “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, that the Lord would put his Spirit on them!” Joel leans into these thoughts, noting that all who worship God have direct access to the Spirit.

But, Joel says, times won’t always be good. God’s vision and dreams of the Spirit show that things are looming on the horizon. Armies. Blood. Fire. But despite this devastation, Joel promises that there is safety, subtly referencing Proverbs 18:10: “Adonai’s name is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and become inaccessible.”

Joel, then, shows that God’s promises of restoration hold in times of bounty and difficulty. In fact, it could be thought of as a positive version of the “For want of a Nail” saying:

God makes promises of restoration
   God pours out the rains at the right times for the crops to grow
   The crops grow, and provide food to the people
   The people eat their fill and praise God
God acts on the promise of restoration
    God pours out the Spirit on all humanity
   The people grow in vision and dreams
   The dreams fill the people with hope in the midst of chaos
   The people praise God and survive
God continues to act on the promise of restoration

This promise of restoration that Joel makes is, of course, picked up in the book of Acts, when Peter refers to it taking place again in connection with the events of Pentecost. Peter explicitly extends the pouring out of Spirit on all who worship God. You see, we are all connected with God. We strengthen that connection any time we worship, any time we pray, any time we listen for discernment, any time we help, any time we hope. For God wants us to care for each other, and in so doing, praise God through the living of our lives! This is the praise of the psalmist: “They will speak of the power of your awesome deeds; I will declare your great accomplishments… The Lord is merciful and compassionate, very patient, and full of faithful love.”[4]

We know today that locust swarms happen because of rain at the wrong time and place. But rain also is the way that swarms end – when the wings of the locusts are heavy with rain, they cannot continue. Locusts eat the grain of now, but fertilize the ground as they go, providing a boost to the crops when they are replanted and regrow. God pours out the promise of restoration even in the midst of the great swarm – and God pours out the promise of restoration into each and every one of us, causing us to dream dreams of hope, and envision visions of community. Let us always keep our hearts open to God’s guidance – so that we can know when a nail is needed, and see that God has already provided it.

May God pour out the Spirit on you, that you may dream dreams of hopeful possibility. May God restore to you, in great and small, that which you need to survive. And may Christ lead you always, reminding you that you are loved by God and by God’s children, now and always. Amen.

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[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/For_Want_of_a_Nail

[2] The documentary team recovered their equipment and filmed the end of the locust flight in India – an incredible feat given all the shakeups in the world that year!

[3] Joel 2:23-26, selected, James Crenshaw trans.

[4] Psalm 145:6, 8

Graceful Possibilities

September 17, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Exodus 14:19-31, Matthew 18:21-35

Forgiveness is hard. Even though we regularly pray, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” – we struggle with forgiving debts, both fiscal and emotional. Actually – you may be aware that there are two versions of the Lord’s Prayer in the Bible, in Matthew and Luke’s Gospels. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus uses the same word twice - “Opheilema” – a Greek word meaning “a failure to pay that which is due” – a debt. Luke uses “Opheilema” and “Hamartia” in the same sentence. Hamartia is literally an arrow shot that misses the mark, figuratively the tragic flaw of human character – and is the word we usually translate as “sin.” Luke’s version, then, states, “Forgive us our sin in the same way we forgive our debtors.”

  If you haven’t thought about what the Lord’s Prayer is actually saying in a while, that may be a big moment. In the prayer, we are asking God to forgive us in the same manner, or to the same extent, that we forgive others. That puts so much weight on our actions – I know I’ve thought about this passage before with worry – “What am I still holding on to that I should let go of? Will God forgive me if I haven’t forgiven everything?” When Peter asks Jesus, “How often will my sibling sin against me, and I will forgive him? Up to seven times?” it’s like he’s asking the same question – how often do I need to forgive someone else?

Jesus, of course, responds with the famous, “not just seven times, but seventy and seven times.” – whether he means 77 or 490 times, the purpose is the same – it’s not going to be an easily tracked number. You’re supposed to forgive, not to reach an arbitrary standard, but just simply forgive.

Then Jesus tells a story. A parable – a box of meaning to be unlocked again and again. In the story, a man owes a king over 10,000 talents of silver – an impossible debt to pay, as that would take over 50,000 years of work at minimum wage to even earn that stated amount. The king calls in his marker, the man begs for patience, and the king mercifully forgives the debt – releasing the man from the threat of slavery for his entire family. Newly released of his impossible debt, the man shakes down someone who owes him 100 days wages – and receives the same response, have mercy, and I will pay it in time. Instead of forgiving this much less amount of debt, the man has his debtor thrown into prison. The king hears about this, and applies the same logic to the man, throwing him into prison permanently.

I don’t know about you, but on the face of it, this story is terrifying to me. At first blush, I feel like the man was incredibly lucky to have that debt forgiven in the first place. But then I think – just how did such a debt come to be? Is it possible that the whole point of the king forgiving the debt was to say that there was never such a debt in the first place? That we begin with grace, a recognition that yes, we will mess up, we will miss the mark – but that God wants us to try again and again, and not give up.

Jewish New Testament scholar AJ Levine reminds us that Jesus uses the word “debt” deliberately: “It goes directly to the pocketbook;” she writes, “It says, don’t hold a debt. If someone needs, you give. The call is for economic justice.”[1]

Let’s go back to the Lord’s Prayer for a moment. What if God’s grace isn’t contingent on our forgiveness? What if, instead, we are asking God to help us forgive in the same way that we have been forgiven? “Forgive us our debts, as you help us forgive our debtors.” What if, instead of excoriating ourselves for the ways we have missed the mark, we recognize the grace-filled possibilities of forgiving others and trying again and again?

One of the earliest stories of God’s grace is from the book of Exodus. We know the story of Moses: “Let my people go!” he shouts to Pharoah again and again, and Pharoah doesn’t relent. Finally, Pharoah agrees, once God’s power to affect even him cannot be denied – but once the Hebrew people are underway, Pharoah reneges on his promise, and sends his armies to force the people to return to slavery and oppression. The Egyptian armies catch up with the Hebrew people in a terribly restricted place – backed against a sea, with no visible crossing. During the night, God’s very presence burns between the groups, keeping the Hebrew people safe as the winds blow in, separating the waters and creating a path of dry land. The Hebrew people walked safely across, when the pre-dawn light reveals them, and the Egyptians start to chase them.

God interferes directly, turning the wheels of the chariots and making their progress difficult. Some of the Egyptians recognize that God is present, and retreat, calling for others to do the same. But those who continued on, determined to enslave and oppress, to follow the evil orders of their superior – they end up caught in the floods as the waters rush back to their usual place. After that, the Pharoah sends no more armies after the Hebrew people.

At first glance, this hardly seems a story of grace. God’s actions seem more like vengeance or retribution than grace. Reading strictly, we might at first say, shouldn’t the Hebrew people have forgiven the Egyptians for breaking their word, and meekly come back with the armies? But of course not. As Debie Thomas writes, “Forgiveness isn’t pretending that an offense doesn’t matter… or assuming that because God is merciful, God isn’t grieved and angered by injustice.”[2] Forgiveness in this story is seen in fleeing rather than fighting. In trusting God to lead the people beyond the need for violence, and to continue to protect them.

God also acts to protect the Egyptians who listen. Turning the wheels to prevent the chariots from continuing causes at least some of the Egyptians to turn around, to recognize that they are acting in the wrong. The only ones who perish are those who foolishly follow Pharoah’s orders, even when it is clear that those orders are evil and against God’s will.

God sees graceful possibilities in a situation that seems to be impossible. Note that here, too, there is no immediate healing or reconciliation. The Egyptians that survived by running away do not make things right with the Hebrew people. Instead, they go their separate ways. Forgiveness here isn’t the end of the journey – but the beginning. At many points during the wilderness wandering, the Hebrew people want to turn around and return to Egypt – but they gradually recognize that God is leading them in a better direction. Forgiveness – Grace – is not quick and easy. It is a process that takes time, but gradually – oh so gradually! – brings an end to the weight of hatred and bitterness that prevents us from following God’s way.

When Jesus tells us to forgive seventy and seven times, he’s telling us to look for graceful possibilities. To bring forward love, instead of resentment. I love how Debie Thomas puts this, too: “If I’m consumed with my own pain, if I’ve made injury my identity, if I insist on weaponizing my well-deserved anger in every interaction I have with people who hurt me, then I’m drinking poison, and the poison will kill me long before it does anything to my abusers. To choose forgiveness is to release myself from the tyranny of my bitterness… To cast my hunger for healing deep into Christ’s heart, because healing belongs to him, and he’s the only one powerful enough to secure it.”

We respond to God’s grace – amazing, awesome, awe-inspiring grace – by being free to offer grace to others. By seeing new, graceful possibilities for restorative justice – a way forward that God provides to heal both oppressed and oppressor.

Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran pastor in Denver, describes mistreatment and sin as a chain that binds us unwillingly. But her words about breaking that chain are incredible: “Maybe retaliation or holding onto anger about the harm done to me doesn’t actually combat evil. Maybe it feeds it. Because in the end, if we’re not careful, we can actually absorb the worst of our enemy, and at some level, start to become them. So what if forgiveness, rather than being a… way to say, ‘It’s okay,’ is actually a way of wielding bolt-cutters and snapping the chains that link us? What if it’s saying, ‘What you did was so not okay, I refuse to be connected to it anymore.’?”[3]

So, my friends – what if you forgave the person that irritates you so much? Or the person that owes you a debt that cannot be repaid? Or even one that can? What if all of us, together, agree to forgive each other. What graceful possibilities would emerge then?

May you be forgiven and filled with God’s grace. May you forgive, and be filled with Christ’s love. May you see how forgiveness can change the world, and see the Holy Spirit at work, breaking the chains of evil, and bringing God’s good plan to fruition. Amen.

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[1] The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus

[2] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2748-unpacking-forgiveness

[3] https://sojo.net/articles/sermon-forgiveness

Overcome Evil with Good

 September 3, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby

Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel

Matthew 16:21-28, Romans 12:9-21

After spending the last week with COVID, I hope you’ll forgive me for recording this sermon, rather than delivering it in person. Early in the week, my voice did that thing where, due to the build up of fluids in my head and throat, it dropped about two and a half octaves for a while. I rarely sound like myself when that happens – instead, becoming Basso Profundo for a day or two. It’s kind of fun, but I’ve had loved ones not recognize my voice – and that can be disturbing. Still, I was reminded that the last time it happened, it was just before I went to seminary – I was working for a country music radio station in Detroit at a grand event – the Downtown Hoedown. As part of my job, I was expected to escort country musicians through Campus Martius to reach their staging area. The crowds were thick, and though my voice was deeper as a result of spending several days outside in heat, haze, and smoke, it didn’t carry as far. I found myself standing up differently – straighter, making my presence known physically instead of verbally. I’m not normally an intimidating guy, but somehow, the deep but quiet voice meant that people did, in fact get out of my way, and the way was clear for the musicians behind to follow.

It was effective, I suppose – so much so that my boss pulled me aside, and reassigned me. Apparently, I was intimidating guests to the event. No matter how effective and efficient it was to clear a path that way, in the end, it was making the experience worse for guests, and thus I had inadvertently become a stumbling block to the whole thing.

It should be no surprise, then, that I identify with Peter in Gospel of Matthew – he leaps in, full of enthusiasm, and is praised for it. Jesus gives him the nickname “Rocky” – “Cephas” in Aramaic, “Petros” in Greek – for being the first to leap to the conclusion that Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus says, “I tell you that you are Rocky. And I’ll build my church on this rock. The gates of the underworld won’t be able to stand against it.”[1] Very high praise indeed! I imagine Simon “the Rock” BarJonah felt like he was on top of the world, looking down on creation[2]! That’s when Jesus starts to talk about the traumatic and difficult future he’s facing as the Messiah, and Peter jumps right in again – “God forbid it, Lord! This won’t happen to you!”

Jesus tells Ol’ Stoneface, “Get behind me, Adversary. You are a rock that could make me stumble, for you are not thinking God’s thoughts, but human thoughts.”[3]

From being named by Jesus as the rock on which the church will be built – to being called the Adversary. All in the course of 5 verses. Now, Peter’s crashed down hard, leaving a metaphorical hole in the sand. He’s got a few options: he could dig the hole deeper, he could try to climb out on his own, or he could stay in the hole for a moment and wait to see what Jesus says next.

Fortunately, Peter chooses that moment to actually stay quiet and listen to what Jesus has to say: “All who want to come after me must say no to themselves, take up their cross, and follow me. All who want to save their lives will lose them. But all who lose their lives because of me will find them.”[4]

In this specific context – after Jesus acknowledges Simon Peter’s messianic statement, and then rebukes Peter for asking God to forbid Jesus’ death and resurrection – Jesus is making the point that Jesus is not taking the easy path, and if you’re following him, you, too, will not be taking the easy path. It would be easy to puff yourself up as a follower of Jesus – “Look at how righteous I am! Look at how holy!” but it is much harder to follow in the way that he leads us. A way of humility. Of careful care for others. Of giving your life to make the lives of many others better. Not of bold swagger, of self-aggrandizement, of prosperity and ease.

Jesus’ way is the way of love. Paul attempts to dive into the specifics of what this love looks like at many points in his letters – most strikingly in I Corinthians 13, but also in his letter to the Romans. “Love should be shown without pretending,” Paul writes, “Love each other like the members of your family. Don’t hesitate to be enthusiastic – be on fire in the Spirit as you serve the Lord!... Consider everyone as equal, and don’t think that you’re better than anyone else.”[5]

You see, in the days of the early church, the world had fallen victim to an illness of spirit – an illness of pride. It’s an illness that continues to affect us today, wherein one person may look at another, and say, “you are beneath my notice,” or, “I am better than you are.” Conversely, some people might look at another and say, “You are much better than I am, so I can do anything to you and yours to get even.” This illness goes against what God planned for us – to be loved in unique ways, but all loved nevertheless. The treatment for such an illness is not a greater separation, hatred, even war – the treatment is instead what all of us need when we are sick. Rest. Nourishment. Care.

Yes, there are times when physical isolation is necessary. But the goal isn’t to be isolated permanently – but instead to be connected spiritually even when physically separated, until the illness is past, and we can be reunited again! When Paul writes, “Don’t pay back anyone for their evil actions with evil actions of your own… but defeat evil with good,”[6] this is exactly what he’s getting at. Heaping evil upon evil just increases evil – the only way to overcome it truly is to bring goodness where there is animosity.

Just as we nurture our bodies back to health, we respond to evil with practical steps. First, we can forgive each other, offering grace without payment, just as God has offered us forgiving grace. In this way, we overcome the evil of resentment – helping to see each other as truly beloved fellow children of God. Next, we can seek reconciliation – promoting healing and peace in the community of people we know directly. This is like bringing Gatorade or noodle soup to loved ones – healing in both body and spirit. Lastly, we can continue to advocate for justice through peaceful means, just as Christ has taught us. This is a way of both improving the health of the wider community, and helps to inoculate against the illness of pride returning again. Using your voice to advocate for those whom society is determined not to listen to – that’s a powerful medicine of healing goodness.

Through it all, we pray for one another – not telling God what to do, who to save, and so on, but asking God to hold us together. In prayer, we listen for God’s call, seek the healing and forgiveness that we need, and practice offering that same healing and forgiveness to others in our lives. Sometimes, we need to step back, and realize that we’re looking at others as being better or worse than ourselves – and we need to hear God calling us back to take up the cross and follow Jesus. We may need a time of rest and recovery – or we may need to offer that time to others with grace and love. Sometimes, that insight may come from others, too – be sure to listen when others tell you that you may be taking things too far. And don’t be afraid to reach out to others in this way, too.

My friends, may you be filled with the grace of God, the love of Christ, and the healing of the Holy Spirit, overcoming evil with good in your life and in the world. Amen.

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[1] Matt 16:18

[2] Inadvertent Carpenters reference.

[3] Matt 16:22-23

[4] Matt 16:24-25

[5] Rom 12 (selected)

[6] Rom 12:17, 21