Posted on by Chris Moon

1 Kings 7:40-51 – Worship at its best

Here we have the completion of the temple in Jerusalem, finished by King Solomon, the son of King David. As you can tell, especially if you’ve been reading the whole of 1 Kings 6-7, this was an elaborate construction project. This was to be the “house of the Lord.” It was to be the place where God’s presence dwelt among His people. It was in the center of Jerusalem, at the very beginning of the reign of the house of David over the people of Israel. These were God’s people, and God would dwell among them.

In front of the temple were two pillars cast in bronze. They were more than 30 feet tall, topped with capitals with bronze latticework and bronze lilies and pomegranates all around them. On the north and south of the temple were bronze wash basins that were six feet square and three feet high. They were decorated with images of lions, oxen, and cherubim. On the southeast side of the temple was a huge basin called the “sea.” It was 15 feet across and more than seven feet tall. It sat on top of 12 oxen, three facing each direction. The sea held about 12,000 gallons of water.

Along with the pillars and the wash basins and the sea were pots and shovels for use in the operation of the temple, for the sacrifices. Those pots and shovels were also made of bronze. And no one knew how much bronze was used to make all of these objects. The Bible tells us “the weight of the bronze was not ascertained.”

Inside the temple were the furnishings and tools for the temple. These were made of gold – the altar, the table for the bread of the Presence, the lampstands, the lamps, the tongs, the cups, the snuffers, the basins, the incense dishes, and the fire pans. Even the sockets of the doors of the temple were made of gold. Again, this was an elaborate construction project.

So what was this text about? What do we have to learn? Are we just supposed to understand that Solomon’s kingdom was one of great wealth? They easily could make stuff out of bronze and gold because they had a lot of bronze and gold. I suppose that’s part of the point of this text. But I think there is more to it than that.

I think this text teaches us about worship. Specifically, this text reminds us how a person ought to worship God.

Worship is not made out of just anything. Proper worship is made with the best a person can offer. In 1 Kings 7, this was the best that God’s people could give to Him. And they gave it. Their worship – and their preparation for worship – cost them something. It was extravagant and over-the-top. It required work and effort on their part – years of labor and tens of thousands of workers. It required people of skill who used their skills. It required the most precious of metals the earth has to offer. And it required those precious metals in abundance. Everywhere you looked outside the temple – and even more so inside of it – you’d find shiny objects. Everything was shiny and bright and reminded you the glory and value of God. And all of this had to do with the worship of God.

And sometimes, I find it hard to get my sleepy head off of my pillow on a Sunday morning. It’s possible for our worship to feel cheap in comparison. And sometimes it is. When we’re slow to come to worship with our church family on the Lord’s Day as we’ve been taught in Scripture, our worship gets cheap. When we worship in a haphazard and half-hearted and distracted way, our worship gets cheap. When we keep all sorts of sin in our lives but give the impression to others that we are saints – all while refusing to repent – our worship gets cheap.

Be wary of that. Don’t do that. Give God your very best in worship. Prepare your heart for worship and then worship well.

In finishing his long letter to the church in Rome, the apostle Paul had an important request for the Christians there. “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12:1). Worship involves presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice. It means we give everything. In the church age – in this season after the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ – it’s not gold and bronze that God wants us to place in front of Him. No, it’s you. You are the prize. You are the precious metal. You are the sacred object to God.

We visited our old church last weekend to help that church celebrate its 200th anniversary as a congregation. That little church in the mountains of east Kentucky was founded in 1825. It’s quite the milestone. As a former pastor of that church, they invited me to speak. I was one of four former pastors who were there for the celebration. They thought we would have something valuable to share with them as they remembered their long history that dated back to before the Civil War. It was a humbling experience.

I reminded them I was born in Kansas. My home state was founded in 1861. By the time Kansas became a state, that little church in Kentucky already had been preaching the gospel, baptizing new believers, and training people up in the way of the Lord for 36 years.

I told them I live in Colorado now. Colorado became a state in 1876. By then, that little church in Kentucky had been preaching the gospel, baptizing new believers, and training people up in the way of the Lord for 51 years.

I also told them that I now preach here. This church was founded in 1977. By the time the people here were having their morning coffee and thinking about starting a church, that little church in Kentucky had been preaching the gospel, baptizing new believers, and training people up in the way of the Lord for 152 years. The founders of that church had passed the gospel work to their children’s, children’s, children’s, children’s children – or something like that. That little Kentucky church is the oldest thing I know!

What makes a church like that last for so long – for 200 years? The grace of God, surely. It must be God’s doing. But how do you see the grace of God most clearly in a person’s life? I can tell you. You can see it in a person’s worship.

One of the pastor’s wives of that east Kentucky church told me she’d been to Colorado once. Went up on Pike’s Peak. She was determined to go up there and sing, at the top of her lungs, “How Great Thou Art.” But when she got up there, overlooking the eastern plains of Colorado, all she could do was sit on a bench with her head between her knees and whisper the words, “Then sings my soul …” It’s hard to breathe up there!

But that woman of faith sang, in spite of it all. That’s not cheap worship.

When it came my turn to speak to that old church, I reminded them of a time when a fierce old man in that congregation came forward to be re-baptized. My church tradition doesn’t believe in second baptisms, generally speaking. One is enough. But I re-baptized him anyway. That man wanted it because he wanted to show his grandchildren, who all were sitting in a row next to him, the way.

That’s not cheap worship.

I also told the church of an old man who had been well loved there but has since gone to be with the Lord. The man’s name was Philip. He was a blue-collar guy. Overalls and tractor grease. Plain-spoken. He used to mow the church grounds with this tractor at no cost. One day while Philip was mowing, he pulled me aside as I was walking from the church to the parsonage. He put a $50 bill in my hand. “Preacher, you may need this.” Philip wasn’t a man of wealth. Then he went on mowing.

That’s not cheap worship.

At that 200th anniversary worship service, I got stuck on the stage with all the other old preachers and worship leaders. So I was looking out at the crowd. It was a mighty crowd. Midway through the service, they invited the “Church Street Boys” to the front for a few songs. It was a reunion for that old singing group in the church. Those “boys” were no longer boys. They were old men. But that didn’t matter. They sang. I didn’t know some of those old gospel songs. But I looked out at the faces in the congregation, and those people knew those songs – because they were singing. Young and old, men and women, they knew the songs. And they sang right along with the “Church Street Boys.”

That’s not cheap worship. This is the kind of worship to which Christ always has called people.

Three wise men came to Jerusalem looking for the King (Matthew 2:2). They found a man named Herod instead. So they asked Herod, as they held their boxes of gold, incense, and myrrh: “Where’s the King? We have come to worship Him.”

After Jesus died on the cross for our sins and rose again, the disciples found Him on a mountain in Galilee. Some of those disciples had their doubts, as you know. But some didn’t. “And when they saw him they worshipped him” (Matthew 28:17).

At the end of the book of Revelation, after the disciple John had been given the big vision of the end times, John saw the angel who was with him. John fell down on the spot to worship at the feet of that angel. The angel would have nothing of it. The angel said, “I’m just a fellow servant with you and prophets.” And then what did the angel tell John? “Worship God” (Revelation 22:8).

How is your worship?

Posted on by Chris Moon

2 Samuel 17:27-29 – Kingdom loyalty

David had been having a hard time. He was on the run. He’d just raced across the Jordan River, trying to escape the clutches of his son Absalom, who had seized control of the kingdom. This was David’s own fault, of course. David’s sin with Bathsheba and the events that followed it sent him into this dark valley. God had said David’s punishment would be family chaos that would spill into public view (2 Samuel 12:10-12). That’s exactly what David got.

So Absalom was hot on David’s heels, following David across the Jordan River into the land of Gilead. Absalom brought a large army with him. A battle was brewing. Absalom intended to kill his father, David, the anointed one of God.

And David and his group crossed the Jordan, tired and hungry, short on supplies, wondering what was going to happen next. David was met there by three men who offered help. Here is the text again:

“When David came to Mahanaim, Shobi the son of Nahash from Rabbah of the Ammonites, and Machir the son of Ammiel from Lo-debar, and Barzillai the Gileadite from Rogelim, brought beds, basins, and earthen vessels, wheat, barley, flour, parched grain, beans and lentils,honey and curds and sheep and cheese from the herd, for David and the people with him to eat, for they said, ‘The people are hungry and weary and thirsty in the wilderness’” (2 Samuel 17:27-29).

I’d like to make the point today that this text is about loyalty to the kingdom of God. That is what was happening here. Three men – Shobi, Machir, and Barzillai – were loyal to the king of Israel and to the people who belonged to the king of Israel. And the loyalty of these three men came at a time that was most inconvenient and dangerous to them. Who knew what Absalom would do to them if he was successful in killing David?

We need to ask ourselves as seriously as we can, with as much honesty as we can, whether we are capable of being as loyal to the kingdom of God as Shobi, Machir, and Barzillai were. God’s kingdom today on earth is led by Jesus Christ, the Son of David. Jesus is our King, and He leads the church. How loyal are you to Jesus and to His kingdom on earth, the church?

What do we know about these three men – Shobi, Machir, and Barzillai?

Shobi was an Ammonite, the son of Nahash. We believe this to be the same Nahash who was a deceased king of the Ammonites, a man who had been friendly toward David. When Nahash died, his kingdom was ruled by one of his sons, a man named Hanun. Hanun wasn’t a good king. When David sent his men to Hanun with his greetings, Hanun disgraced them – and David – shaving off half of their beards and cutting off the bottom portion of their clothes and sending them out of town. It was hugely offensive and led to war. David destroyed Hanun’s army. But Hanun’s brother Shobi was spared. It must have been surprising when David walked through the king’s house, checking for Hanun’s relatives. Shobi was there – trembling, I’m sure. Was this death? No. It was life. At some point, David gave his decision. “You’re spared.” Scholars speculate David even put Shobi in charge of the nation of the Ammonites. David could have wiped out the entire family, of course. But David didn’t. He spared Shobi’s life.

Later, when David was on the run from Absalom, Shobi brought beds, basins, and earthen vessels, among other things, to David’s people. We call this loyalty.

Machir was a Benjaminite. During the big conflict between the house of King Saul and the house of David, Machir sheltered one of Saul’s grandsons, a young man named Mephibosheth. Mephibosheth was a pitiful fellow, crippled in both feet. After David secured his kingdom and swept the house of Saul out of power, David went searching for any descendants of Saul. David located Mephibosheth at the home of Machir. Machir must have wondered what David’s intentions were when the king pulled up in the driveway. The standard procedure was to kill every member of the old monarch’s family, particularly the males. Eliminate potential competition. David showed up and asked for Mephibosheth. “He’s going to eat at my table from now on. I’m going to look after his every need.”

Later, when David was on the run from Absalom, Machir brought wheat, barley, flour, parched grain, beans, and lentils, among other things, to David’s people. We call this loyalty.

Barzillai was a Gileadite. We know less about him than about Shobi and Machir. Really, the only thing we know about Barzillai is that he was very old and very wealthy and that he preferred to serve rather than be served (2 Samuel 19:31-40). We don’t know what kinds of interactions, if any, Barzillai had had with David. But Barzillai lived in Gilead, on the far side of the Jordan River, presumably near Mahanaim. And so he would have known all about David’s dealings with the family of King Saul and about Mephibosheth and Machir. He also would have known well David’s dealings with Shobi and the Ammonites. And Barzillai had resources, and he knew how to use them.

So when David was on the run from Absalom, Barzillai brought honey and curds and sheep and cheese from the herd, among other things, to David’s people. We call this loyalty.

These three men were different kinds of men. Shobi was a pagan Ammonite, a Gentile, whose family formerly had been in conflict with David. Machir was a Jew, who came from the tribe of Benjamin – King Saul’s tribe – which formerly had been in conflict with David. And Barzillai was a bit of a mystery. God leaves it to us to wonder about Barzillai’s backstory.

They were different kinds of men, but they had one thing in common. They were loyal to the kingdom of God. The kingdom had left a positive impression on them. For at least two of these men, they would have been first-hand witnesses to the mercy and grace that is a hallmark of the kingdom of God. Shobi could very well have been killed by king David. But he wasn’t. Machir could very well have been present at the execution of Mephibosheth – an execution that could very well have extended to Machir. But that execution didn’t happen. These men witnessed the mercy of the kingdom of God. It was undeniable in their lives.  

If there’s one thing we ought to say about the kingdom of God, it’s that it is merciful. The apostle Peter once wrote that Jesus “is patient.” In what way, Peter, is Jesus patient? Peter said Jesus “is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). The kingdom of God is marked by patient mercy, so that you might be saved.

Has that left an impression on you?

You need mercy. Do you know it? The apostle Paul wrote, “None is righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10). If you look back on your life and cannot see your sinfulness in clear display, in high definition – all of your lack of understanding, your failure to listen to God, the lies you’ve told, the wounds you’ve left on others, the chaos you’ve caused – if you cannot see that, you ought to start praying that you can see it. You are in a precarious spot.

But if you can see all that sinfulness, you ought to know Jesus stands ready to offer you mercy. The apostle Paul wrote, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift” (Romans 3:23-25). Paul called it redemption, and it comes by the blood of Jesus Christ who was hanging on the cross. It is received by faith, not by works. It is a marvelous thing – a free gift. We deserve the sword, but we are given meals at the king’s table. We once were part of the rebellion, but now we’re elevated to eternal life.

Has that left an impression on you?

Shobi, Machir, and Barzillai saw their opportunity to serve King David and the kingdom, and they did not hesitate. They came out of Mahanaim, their arms loaded with gifts. They had seen the kingdom of God in action, and they couldn’t stop thinking about it. They had to go. They had to give. It wasn’t convenient, really. It was at some risk to themselves. Absalom was encamped just over there, surely watching. The world always is watching. But those three men came anyway. They unloaded their donkeys and their camels. They brought what they could.

“The people are hungry and weary and thirsty in the wilderness.” The three men were concerned not just with King David. They also were concerned about the kingdom, about the ones with the king, about the ones whom the king loved most on this earth.  

So this is a text about loyalty to the kingdom of God. Are we loyal to Christ, our King, and are we loyal to His church on earth? Are we loyal like these three men were loyal? Do we see our opportunity to serve and then go for it, even if it’s inconvenient or risky or expensive? Has the kingdom of God made an impression on you? 

When Joseph of Arimathea heard Jesus had died on the cross on that dark Friday, Joseph didn’t wait. He asked for the body of Jesus. Joseph wanted to give the body a proper burial. It was dangerous business to do what Joseph of Arimathea did. The Jewish council wouldn’t like it. Pilate might get suspicious. It was dangerous business to have your name added to the list of potential political and religious agitators in first-century Jerusalem. But Joseph didn’t wait. The gospel of Mark said Joseph of Arimathea needed “courage” to do what he did, asking Pilate for the body (Mark 15:43). Joseph wasn’t a wimp. He didn’t shy away from controversy.

Who does something like that? Mark tells us Joseph of Arimathea “was also himself looking for the kingdom of God” (Mark 15:43). Joseph knew what it meant to be loyal. There was something about this King and this Kingdom that had left an impression on him. And if something leaves an impression on you, you tend not to forget. You tend to act.

It is Memorial Day weekend. It’s an old national holiday, dating back to shortly after the Civil War. People began decorating graves to remember those who perished during that conflict. It was a war that left its mark on people. When something leaves a mark like that, you’ve got to do something. So people began decorating tombstones. “Bring the flowers. Write a note of remembrance. Mark the day. Don’t forget.” The memory leads to action.

It’s not all that convenient, of course – buying flowers, driving to the cemetery, going out among the headstones, looking for names. It’s not all that convenient. It takes time. It takes money. The weather might be bad. So the practice of decorating graves has fallen on hard times in this country. Not many people do it anymore.

Will something like that happen on the church’s “memorial days”? May it never be.

Posted on by Chris Moon

2 Samuel 3 – The King who sings over us

Read 2 Samuel 3.

We attended the state swim meet last week. It was a big event – bigger than the other swim meets during the season, as you might expect. The venue was bigger than the others. The swimmers were bigger and faster. The officials were more official-looking, and more numerous. The stands were full of people. The air was full of anticipation. The stakes just felt bigger. This was where the best of the best came to perform their very best.

But it wasn’t the swimming I found most impressive at the state swim meet. No, it was the national anthem. It was sung by a young man whom we’ve heard sing before. One swimmer, a member of our own team, sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” for that crowd of anxious onlookers. His name is Dexter. He’s not yet a great swimmer. He’s short and a bit pudgy, just a freshman, 14 years old, still a boy and not a man. Dexter didn’t make the state swim meet to swim any races. But the powers-that-be wanted Dexter to be there anyway. They wanted to hear him sing.

Dexter has a great voice. It’s still the voice of a child; the hormones haven’t taken hold to deepen it. Dexter holds a steady pitch. He remains on key even while singing acapella. The vibrato is perfect. It’s a voice that catches your attention. You’ve heard a bad national anthem before, sung by someone who thinks he can sing but can’t. We’ve all heard that. Dexter’s is not that. It is near perfect.

And the fans know it. As Dexter sings, they look at each other. They look over at him. They grin. When Dexter holds out that iconic note at the end of the anthem – “… o’er the land of the FREE …” – it is totally perfect and sustained just long enough for you to know that he means it. He really means it. When Dexter finished at the state swim meet, the place erupted into applause and shouts. They knew this was good. I knew then that this was the best performance we would witness that day. All the fast swimming by those big and strong young men would not hold a candle to this – to Dexter singing his national anthem.

When you hear someone who sings well, you stop and appreciate it. The song makes you stop. You have to stop. You just listen. Nothing more. It’s a gift to you.

David sang over the dead body Abner. “Should Abner die as a fool dies?/Your hands were not bound;/your feet were not fettered;/as one falls before the wicked you have fallen.” It’s not enough to hear only the words. The words are helpful, but they aren’t enough. We need to hear it sung – by David – in the moment – behind the casket as they carried it down Main Street in Hebron – as the whole city walked in stunned silence, their cloaks torn, watching David cry – as the army shuffled in behind, embarrassed – as Joab, the general, kept his eyes glued to the ground, shamed for his wrongdoing, cursed.

I can picture all of that. But I want to hear David’s song. If only we could have heard it sung in that moment, then we would know a little more about this text and about this man, David, who was just coming into his kingdom.

David was a man of songs. David calmed King Saul with songs when the king was struggling with his evil spirit. David later composed and sang a song of lament for Saul and his son Jonathan as the nation mourned their deaths. And all along, David was writing songs that we know as the Book of Psalms. They are songs of lament and thanksgiving, about defeats and victories and enemies and friends. They are songs to be prayed. And sung.

But we don’t know the sound of David’s voice. We only have the words he wrote and the words he sang. I suppose that’s all God wanted us to have. But to hear it sung, in the moment – that would have been something. I bet we would have stopped to appreciate it. It would have been a gift.

David was lamenting the loss of Abner, who had been an enemy to David’s kingdom and only recently had become an ally. It is strange David felt so wounded about Abner’s death. After all, David was just getting to know the man. They’d spent years fighting one another.

After King Saul died, Abner had established another king to oppose David. Abner waged war against David’s army. Abner had plotted and strategized against David’s budding kingdom in Judah. Abner wasn’t necessarily an evil man. Scripture gives us evidence of a soft side to Abner. But Abner hadn’t been a friend to David. He’d been an enemy, opposed to David’s kingdom.

Abner had a change of heart when his own king accused him of misconduct. Abner likely was accused of trying to steal the kingdom away from his own king by taking control of the king’s harem. Abner was very offended by this. And it was this anger that turned Abner’s allegiance toward David. It wasn’t necessarily that Abner saw the genuine goodness of David or believed in his heart about the divine promises given to David. What we know is Abner was angry.

So Abner likely visited with David, at least in part, to secure his own place in the united tribes of Israel, under King David. Abner now was intent on bringing David’s kingdom into reality – and sticking it to Abner’s old boss. Abner began to negotiate with other tribes in Israel to put together a new alliance with David. Abner was serving as a broker, a peacemaker, a uniter.

Then Abner visited King David. It seemed to have been a good meeting. An agreement was reached. “So David sent Abner away, and he went in peace.” Abner was moving in the right direction – toward the kingdom of David. All was good – until Abner met with Joab at the city gate. Abner didn’t see the knife.

And David grieved. He wrote the song, and he sang it. I wish we could have heard it.

Here was Abner, a man who had turned toward David. He was a man who had turned toward the kingdom that was being established by God. Abner’s turning wasn’t a perfect turning. Abner’s motivations were mixed. He was angry and hurt by the one he had served so long. The kingdom of this world was hard and ungrateful. Abner learned that.

So Abner was turning to David. He was turning to the kingdom of God. Surely, David knew some things about Abner that we didn’t know. Because David announced at Abner’s death. “Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel?” We’re led to believe Abner was not far from the kingdom of God. He was an enemy who was becoming a friend. And David sang over him.

That reminded me. One of God’s prophets, a man named Zephaniah, wrote about the coming of God’s kingdom – what it will be like. Zephaniah wrote,

“The Lord your God is in your midst,
    a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
    he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zephaniah 3:17).

We live in a messy world, and God is singing over it. It’s a world full of ambition, treachery, jealousy, competition, hatred, bitterness, anger, revenge, and murder. And God’s kingdom is coming.

God is rarely in a hurry. He is in total control. And His kingdom is coming. God gives us room to live in it. We are part of it. “Thy kingdom come,” Jesus taught us to pray. Some people are part of bringing the kingdom to fruition, and some people are attempting to pull it apart at the seams. And yet other people, they aren’t sure what they are doing – sometimes pulling, sometimes building, sometimes running away and shaking their fists, sometimes kneeling. 

Do you sense the world is like that? And God, if we could only stop long enough to hear Him, is singing over it. He’s not in a hurry. He has His own plans. He’s seen all of this before. There are songs to be sung about the people in His kingdom. “The Lord your God is in your midst. … He will exult over you with loud singing.”

At one point in Jesus’ ministry, he could hear His disciples talking with each other while they were walking down the road (Mark 9:33-37). I imagine they were behind Him, and Jesus just quietly listened. The disciples were having an argument. Hushed tones, but anxious and eager to be heard.

That night, after they arrived at the home where they were staying, Jesus asked them about it. “What were you discussing on the way?” No one said anything. You could have heard a pin drop. They’d been arguing about which one was the greatest. They were embarrassed to admit it, but that’s what they were doing. Of course, Jesus knew. And so Jesus told them that if anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.

Do you think the disciples understood? All this arguing, all this fighting, all this competition – What would it come to? The kingdom is coming. God is working on His own time, not ours. “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you” (2 Peter 3:9). Stop and listen. “The Lord your God is in your midst. … He will exult over you with loud singing.”

A short time after Abner was murdered, David was anointed king over all Israel. The long-awaited kingdom had come. Abner wasn’t needed as a broker. Joab wasn’t needed as a hammer. Abner’s anger and maneuvering – and Joab’s vindictiveness and insecurity – came to nothing. The kingdom came without them.

God doesn’t need you, and He doesn’t need me, to make His kingdom come. But He loves you, and He’s singing over you – even though you’re a bit like Abner sometimes. Your turning toward the kingdom of God may not be a perfect turning. You can plot and plan all you want. You can help things all you want. You can hinder things all you want. But God’s kingdom will come.

Still, He’s singing over you – God’s church.

Do you ever stop to listen?

Posted on by Chris Moon

2 Peter 2 – Very, very bad news

Some people are just “bad news.” That’s not a phrase you hear a lot, but it is one of those things we occasionally say – “That guy is bad news.” Of course, you can receive some bad news. “You have a flat tire.” That’s bad news. But sometimes, people are bad news. “The kid down the street came and slashed your tires last night. That kid is just bad news, I’m telling you.” You understand. You probably can think of people in your life who are bad news.

We like to think the Bible is full of good news. That’s what the word “gospel” means in Greek. It means “good news.” And the Bible has plenty of good news in it. You are saved from the wrath of God by the cross of Christ. Your sins can be forgiven by grace through faith. You can experience eternal life and resurrection from the dead and the new heaven and the new earth. It’s good news. The Bible’s main message is good news.

The Bible also has people in it who are “good news.” Jesus is good news. He’s the pinnacle of good news. But also, King David, generally speaking, was good news. So were Moses and Abraham and Noah. And Ruth, Elijah, Daniel, Esther, and Nehemiah. Eleven out of the 12 disciples were good news. One of them, of course, was “bad news.”

And that’s an interesting conversation. Doesn’t the Bible have a lot of people in it who are “bad news”? I suppose so. The story of Cain and Abel tells us that. If you kill your brother, you’re bad news. The Pharaoh of the exodus was bad news – refusing God’s command to let the people go. The giant Goliath was bad news, mocking the armies of the living God. King Saul was “good news” until he became “bad news” and slaughtered the 85 priests at Nob. King Ahab and his wife, Jezebel, were bad news. King Manasseh, who authorized child sacrifice in Israel, was bad news. So was King Nebuchadnezzar – for a while anyway. Haman, wanting to kill all the Jews, was bad news. King Herod was bad news. Caiaphas was bad news. Pilate tried to be neutral news, but he was bad news, too.

In 2 Peter 2, we find people whom the apostle Peter described as very, very bad news. I can’t imagine it possible for Peter to have described these people in a more negative light. These were false teachers whom Peter said would come in among the churches to lure Christians away from the faith.

I compiled a list of the ways Peter described these false teachers. The words I came up with are quite negative. These people were false, destructive, apostate, sensual, blasphemous, greedy, exploitive, condemned, sinful, ungodly, lawless, unrighteous, lustful, defiling, rebellious, arrogant, unrepentant, irrational, destined for destruction, unapologetic, stains on humanity, deceitful, adulterous, hungry for sin, manipulative, accursed, gone astray, empty, short-lived, foolish, slaves of corruption, defiled, damned, and no better than dogs or hogs.

That’s a lot of negative descriptors. These false teachers were very, very “bad news.”

You surely noticed how Peter went on and on about how terrible they were. Sometimes, we can get excited about something and rattle on and on about it. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of another place in Scripture where such a lengthy and vivid description occurs. This passage stands out in that way. Peter seemed to want us to sit up and take notice – to look around and see the danger that might be lurking just inside the church walls.

“There will be false teachers among you.” That’s what the apostle wrote. Peter is warning us that within the global church and, perhaps, within many local churches, false teachers will arise and spread deception about the gospel. These false teachers will try to deceive believers using the tools of sensuality, lawlessness, and pride. And they will be motivated primarily by greed.

The first thing I thought of when I considered false teachers were today’s prosperity gospel teachers. The prosperity gospel is a perversion of the gospel that declares you can have health and wealth if you have enough faith. It’s a false teaching, of course. God may desire a believer to live in poverty or poor health, and that believer can honor God and spread the gospel even while in poverty or poor health. But the prosperity gospel declares God wants to make you healthy and wealthy – if you have enough faith.

You’ll find many problems with the prosperity gospel. It has a lot of derivatives – a lot of spin-off varieties that emphasize one thing or another. Some prosperity gospel types fashion themselves as apostles or prophets or faith healers or ministers of “deliverance.” They claim to have powers and gifts that make them special – and definitely more special than you.

The prosperity gospel is destructive. If you don’t get rich and if you don’t get healed after professing your faith in Christ, you might give up on your faith. If your spouse or child dies despite your very heartfelt “prayer of faith,” then you might think you did something wrong and it was your fault, rather than the will of God. And if a faith healer comes and says he’s going to clear up your gout or your limp or your clogged arteries and then doesn’t, he might give you a suspicious look. It’s not his fault, after all. No, no. It’s you and your lack of faith. And so you can see the danger of the prosperity gospel.

But the prosperity gospel sells. Remember the false teachers Peter lambasted in his second letter? They were motivated by greed. “In their greed they will exploit you with false words. … They have hearts trained in greed.” The prosperity gospel has at its heart the desire for money – your money. And it’s relatively easy to get money from people when you promise them wealth or healing from God or special powers from the Holy Spirit.

And so when I considered Peter’s condemnation of false teachers, that’s what I thought about first – the prosperity gospel. There are other false teachers out there, of course. Think about the progressive church, which teaches you don’t really need to worry about sin – not adultery, homosexuality, transgenderism, etc. “I’m OK. You’re OK. What we’re doing is OK, no matter what.” It is false teaching – trying to wipe sin off the books.

These are people “who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them. … They are blots and blemishes, reveling in their deceptions, while they feast with you. … They entice unsteady souls. … They promise them freedom, but they themselves are slaves of corruption.”

The apostle Peter goes on and on. These people are “bad news.”

And Peter has bad news for them. They will be judged. God always has judged the wicked – the wicked angels, the wicked people during the time of Noah, the wicked residents of Sodom and Gomorrah. They were condemned “to extinction.” Peter wants us to know this. He goes on and on about it to make sure we know these false teachers will be judged. Apparently, it is a heinous thing in God’s eyes to lead His church astray. “Their destruction is not asleep. … For them the gloom of utter darkness has been reserved.” These people are bad news, and Peter gives them bad news.

At the same time, Peter in this passage gives us a glimpse of some “good news” people. Maybe they’re not entirely “good news” people. After all, what do you do with a man like Lot? But Peter said God judges the wicked and rescues the “godly” from trials. Noah was preserved in his wicked generation, and Lot was rescued from the judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah. So you do not need to worry about false teachers. God will deal with them. In fact, Peter announced, God already is dealing with them. Meanwhile, the godly will be rescued.

Peter wants us to know all of this. It is quite likely, during your Christian walk, that you will encounter people who will try to steer you away from God’s Word and from your faith in the One True God. They will seek to deceive. They will twist the gospel. They will attempt to lead you into an indulgence of your flesh and your pride. You need to know these false teachers exist. These people are “bad news.” And God has bad news for them.

What should we do? I suppose we simply need to stick to Jesus. Even some of the false teachers, they knew Him. Before they turned away and began teaching their falsehoods, they knew Jesus. Peter said they had “escaped the defilements of the world through the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” So the difference between the false teachers and you is that you have not gone back to those old defilements. You haven’t been like the dogs returning to the scene of their sickness. You haven’t been like the sow returning to the mud pit. You are remaining “in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

Remain there. Don’t turn. Keep your eyes on Scripture. You know God’s Word, by faith – that Jesus Christ took on flesh, lived as one of us, shunned all temptation and sin, died on the cross for our sins, in our place, rose on the third day to new life, ascended to the right hand of the Father, and will return someday in glory. This is “the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

It also is known as “good news.”

Posted on by Chris Moon

Romans 6:3-4 – New Life, an Easter Sunday message

Read Mark 16:1-8 and Romans 6:3-4.

The apostle Paul said, “We too might walk in newness of life.” Like Jesus did. After Jesus was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, Jesus walked in newness of life. The women at the tomb were perplexed. “Where is Jesus’ body?” “Well, He has risen. He’s not here. He’s going before you to Galilee. That’s where you will see Jesus. He already is on His way. Go and tell the disciples.”

As Jesus was going to Galilee, He was walking in newness of life.

And Paul wrote, “We too might walk in newness of life.” That’s encouraging. When I was a child in our little Kansas town, I remember standing on our front porch watching the kids of the neighborhood ride their bikes up and down the street. One of the kids had a little device on his bike that made it sound like a motorcycle. I don’t know exactly what the device was. But his bike sounded like a motorcycle, revving up and down the street. All the kids were impressed. I was impressed. “I’d like one of those – whatever it is,” I said to my mother. “Nope.” I stamped my foot. “But I want it! What that kid is doing, I want to do that!” “Nope.” You know how ruthless a mother can be – so unkind and uncaring. What came next was my own childhood meltdown. You know how children do that.

Often when we consider Jesus, we just know the answer is “nope.” “I’d like to walk on water.” “Nope.” “I’d like to raise the dead.” “Nope.” “I’d like to show compassion to strangers like Jesus did.” “Do you really? Well, nope.” Jesus in the gospels seemed to have the ability to do things we simply cannot do – though we might like to do those things.

But here, in Romans 6, Paul said we can do something Jesus did. “We too might walk in newness of life.” It’s encouraging. “To walk in newness of life? I’d like to do that.” Paul isn’t like your mother. Paul said we can do it.

“We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Your baptism is the time when you begin walking in newness of life. That’s what Paul said – after you are buried in baptism, down in the water, in faith that Jesus Christ was crucified for the sins of the world. If you are baptized in faith, you are baptized into Christ’s death. And after you are buried in faith, down in the water, the pastor will pull you up. You will be raised from the dead, so to speak, just like Jesus was raised from the dead. And then you too will walk in newness of life.

And so some of you – many of you – most of you, I suppose – are walking in newness of life. You already are doing it. You’ve been baptized. You’ve been buried and raised. And here you are – brand new. Do you feel new?

“New” is the operative concept here. “We too might walk in newness of life.” It is not old life. It’s new. God wants us to know that. Faith in Jesus Christ brings new life to us.

This concept was very important to the apostle Paul. He wrote about new life a lot.

The apostle Paul told the Corinthian church, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). It’s new – not old. The old life is gone.

The apostle Paul told the Galatians, “For neither circumcision counts for anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation” (Galatians 6:15). It’s new. You aren’t part of the old covenant but the new. Don’t worry about those old laws.

The apostle Paul told the Ephesians, You are “to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:23-24). It’s new. It’s not the old sinful self, full of lust and selfishness and deceit and pride. It’s the new self that looks a lot like the character of God.

The apostle Paul told the Colossians, You have “put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator” (Colossians 3:10). It’s new. That means constant renewal in knowledge. It’s not old and stagnant.

The apostle Paul told the Romans, “But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code” (Romans 7:6). It’s new. It is governed not by the old way of the old law but by the Holy Spirit. This “newness” was very important to the apostle Paul.

So there. Now you know I know more about the Bible than you. I am only joking, of course. Many of you are astute students of Scripture. However, I do have something over you: I attended Wednesday morning coffee time last week, and most of you didn’t. You really are missing something by not coming to coffee time. Wednesday morning coffee is a time for people to get together to talk. People want community, and you can find community at Wednesday morning coffee time.

The conversation on Wednesday morning can cover a wide range of subjects. Last week, the topic of Easter came up. One person remarked how Christians often serve ham at their Easter meals. It’s a Christian tradition. Someone observed, while sipping his coffee, that a ham on the table wouldn’t be very welcoming to any Jews who happened to come to your house for Easter lunch. Ham is a forbidden food for Jews. It’s unclean. The old covenant says so. “Wouldn’t a Jew be a little uncomfortable if you put ham on the table at your Easter lunch?”

Yes. And, I suppose, that’s the idea. It’s newness of life. The old is gone, and the new has come. The old covenant with its dead laws and regulations has been swept away by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus fulfilled and abolished the old law. In Christ, there’s no distinction between Jew and Gentile. And so the people of God eat ham on Easter. We eat ham to remind ourselves that we can eat ham.

It’s newness of life. We are free in Christ. Do you feel new?

You really should think about coming to the Wednesday morning coffee. Sometimes, the people there talk about gardening. They talked about gardening last week. Did you know if you take a potted tomato plant at the end of summer and place it upside down or on its side through the winter, new sprouts will grow on that old plant? Put it in your garage or shed where it can stay warm. The old plant looks dead and lifeless. But if you are patient, you’ll see the new growth, small and green, sprouting out of the old. Even in the dead of winter.

It’s newness of life. God has built reminders into His creation. Do you feel new?

This was important to the apostle Paul. He would know. Paul had been baptized (Acts 22:12-16). For a portion of Paul’s life, he hated Christ and His disciples. Paul persecuted them. He ripped them from their families and threw them in jail. Then Paul encountered Jesus on the road to Damascus. Paul was left blind by that encounter, and he had to be led into the city where he spent three days in prayer and fasting, wondering what this was all about.

And then a Christian came to find Paul. Good old Ananias. Everyone loved Ananias. Ananias came to find Paul. “Brother Saul” – that’s how Paul was known in those days – “Brother Saul, receive your sight.” And Paul did. Then Ananias told Paul that Paul would be a witness to everyone of all that he’d seen and heard. Then Ananias said, “And now why do you wait? Rise and be baptized and wash away your sins, calling on his name.”

And Paul did. And he walked in newness of life. Do you feel new?

Sometimes, we might forget we are new. We might feel old and tarnished. We might feel tired and frustrated. Sometimes, we lose sight of what we’ve been given. We lose sight of who we are. Sometimes, we are tempted to sin and fall back into the old way of life.

I think the apostle Paul is trying to tell us something important here: Don’t forget who you are. “Do you not know?” That’s what Paul said. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Paul is saying, “Remember your baptism!”

At a long ago church, I once forgot to turn on the heater in the baptistry. The water was cold. Ice cold. That was the Sunday an old businessman came to get baptized. He was a grouchy old man. But his grandchildren were in church with him that day. He wanted them to see it – to see his faith. So we went up to the baptistry. I remember him looking back at me when he stepped down into the water. He won’t forget his baptism.

Don’t forget yours. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

Posted on by Chris Moon

Romans 6:3-4 – Raised by Glory, an Easter sunrise message

The apostle Paul wanted us to know every Christian is united to Christ. Paul must have been thinking back to Easter Sunday at the same time he was thinking of the life of the Christian. Jesus died; the Christian dies. Jesus was buried; the Christian is buried. Jesus rose; the Christian rises. The Christian’s death, burial, and resurrection is “with Him” – with Christ. So every Christian is united with Christ. Paul wanted us to know this.

In Romans 6, Paul used a certain phrase you may have missed. You might call it a throw-away phrase, tucked into the back pocket of that passage, barely noticed. Paul said, “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.” That’s a wonderful phrase – and not a throw-away phrase at all. Put it up to your ear and listen to it. “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.” The translators of the English Standard Version gave it a bit of a rhythm. “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.” It’s a phrase that bounces along all by itself. It doesn’t need your help. “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.”

How was Jesus Christ raised from the dead? How was He brought to new life? By the glory of the Father. If you needed to answer a question on a test, to name the reason why Jesus Christ still lives and reigns today, you could just say what Paul said. Your professor would have to give you a passing grade. “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.”

It means Jesus was raised from the dead by the decision and power of God. The “glory of the Father” encompasses a lot of things. The glory of the Father is Christ Himself (2 Corinthians 4:6). So we could say Jesus Christ, who is the glory of the Father, raised Himself from the dead (John 10:17). The glory of the Father also is the Holy Spirit (1 Peter 4:14). So we could accurately say the Holy Spirit raised Christ – and us – from the dead (Romans 8:11). The glory of the Father also is simply the physical manifestation of God’s power. When Lazarus was raised from the dead, Jesus told poor Martha, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” (John 11:40).

So I think it is safe to say God raised Jesus from the dead. All three Persons of the Trinity were involved. It was a physical manifestation of God’s power. God did it.

The women were worried about the stone. Mary, the other Mary, and Salome – How would they move such a large stone from the entrance of the tomb? They were asking each other that question on the road. “Who will move it for us? Are we just going to happen upon a group of burly young men, at the crack of dawn, in the cemetery, to roll the stone out of the way?” The women could not move the stone. And they knew it.

Of course they knew it. That’s not how resurrection happens. You cannot move the stone. You cannot effect your own resurrection by your own strength, cunning, skill, or “goodness.” Jesus’ resurrection was not the product of natural phenomena or human effort. Dead men don’t rise. It is not possible in a naturalistic sense.

No, resurrection only is possible by God. Jesus once told His disciples, who were perplexed by His teaching that rich people would have a very hard time entering the kingdom of God – Jesus said, “With man, it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God” (Mark 10:27). There are some things you simply cannot do. Have you discovered this in life? It is why you must throw yourself onto the goodness and grace of God. Trust Him.

“Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.” Listen to it again and again. Memorize it. It’s a phrase that needs no help from us. But we need it. Oh, how we need it. “Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father.”

Posted on by Chris Moon

Romans 6:3-4 – Dead and Buried, a Good Friday Message

Read Mark 15 and Romans 6:3-4.

We gather tonight on a solemn occasion. The reason it is solemn is because it is a night when we remember Jesus Christ being nailed to the cross. He died at a place called Golgotha, which means “Place of a Skull.” That’s quite the name for a place. I wonder what kind of skull they were referring to when they named it “Place of a Skull.” You probably aren’t wondering. You know. You’ve been on the trails and up in the woods and happened upon the skulls of dead animals – deer, elk, coyotes. You don’t name a place after something like that. It’s too common. But if it was a human skull you found? That’s something to remember.

A dead human body ought to be buried. It should not be left out in the open to rot and deteriorate, and to be seen by all. Golgotha, the “Place of a Skull”, probably had seen a lot of that kind of thing. But a human body, including the skull, ought to be buried. We need closure.

After King Saul was killed in battle, the Philistines cut off his head and then hung his body on the wall of a nearby city. His body was left there to rot – to be seen by all. Saul’s exposed dead body announced that Israel’s king had been defeated and shamed. But the Bible tells us some brave Israelites took courage and took King Saul’s body down and buried it (1 Samuel 31). That was good. Human bodies should be buried. We never hear what happened to King Saul’s decapitated head. For me, the story is satisfying – but not perfectly so – because of Saul’s skull. What happened to it? But we do get partial closure. They buried what they could.

The people at the foot of Jesus’ cross, at the “Place of a Skull”, didn’t let anything improper happen to Jesus’ body. His body wouldn’t be left out in the open to rot and be picked at by birds. It wouldn’t be abused or mutilated. No, Jesus’s body would be buried. The Sabbath was coming. It would be a stain on Israel to leave the body unburied.

So Joseph of Arimathea, a good Jew, gathered his courage and asked Pilate if he could bury the body of Jesus. I think Joseph was a valiant Israelite – brave. Pilate agreed to Joseph’s request, and Joseph took down the body of Jesus, wrapped it in a linen shroud, and laid it in a new tomb. Joseph rolled a stone over the front of the tomb. The two Marys saw all of this.

And that’s what we remember tonight. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was dead and buried. It would have been about this time of day, right around dusk, when all of this was taking place. And the people went home. They at least had some closure. This was especially so because the Sabbath was starting. It was a day of rest. In our own culture, we used to mark tombstones with the letters R.I.P. – rest in peace. People would mark the graves of their loved ones with those letters – R.I.P., carved into stone. Jesus, rest in peace. Israel, rest in peace.

It’s a solemn thing, like this night.

Throughout history, Christians have found it important to note Jesus had been buried. Not just dead, but buried, too. The most ancient creed we have, dating back at least to the fourth century, is known as the Apostles’ Creed. It starts like this, “I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born from the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried.” Jesus’ body was buried. The early creed says so. Remember it.

Even more important than the Apostles’ Creed is what the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth. Paul’s was a “creed” that’s actually in the Bible. It starts like this: “For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried” (1 Corinthians 15:3-4).

I suppose it is important to know that among the things that happened to Jesus was that He was crucified – and buried. We get a certain amount of closure to know a person who has died also has been buried. That’s the end of the person – Dead and Buried. It’s over. I once watched a family in the green mountains of East Kentucky bury the matriarch of their family. They dug her grave by hand in the family cemetery. They lowered her casket by hand. And they buried her by hand – one shovelful of dirt at a time back into the grave. It was closure.

That reminds me of you. To the Roman church, the apostle Paul wrote: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death …” Paul said if you have put your faith in Christ and gone down into the waters of baptism, you were buried, too. You were baptized into His death. You were buried with Jesus by baptism into death.

It gives us quite the picture, doesn’t it? You put your faith in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You believe in Him. You trust Him to forgive all of your sins and to bring you back into a right relationship with God. You trust Him to remove your filthy garments and to make you white as snow – holy and pure. So you wade out into the lake, or you step down into the baptistry. The pastor stands in the water with you. The pastor already had his own burial. This is about you. It’s time for you to be buried. And the pastor takes courage, like Joseph of Arimathea, and he buries you with Christ. You are plunged down into the water. Humans can’t live down there. You can’t breathe in the water. It’s the end – Dead and Buried.

It’s closure. A good church knows it when it is time to bury a person. The old man just couldn’t keep going in his old ways. He just couldn’t keep up the charade of self-determination and self-acceptance. At some point, he just gave up. Living like that is just too hard. Round and round a person goes. Sin after sin. No satisfaction. No peace. No joy. No love. No hope. That old woman just couldn’t keep it up. The wear and tear of life was just too much. The bitterness and worry was too much.

She died. He died. The church knows. And we buried them. The old has gone …

It’s closure. Don’t you want to bury the old, dead, sin-stricken man or woman? And not just part of him or her but the whole thing, head to toe? The word “baptism” in Greek means to dip, immerse, or submerge. The whole thing gets buried. You’re plunged down into the water. Dead and Buried. It’s over. Your sins are forgiven, paid for by Christ on the cross. By faith, you aren’t a slave to sin and death any longer – because you were buried with Christ by baptism into death. By faith, you were buried in His death. That’s good news on a solemn evening.

And what was it again that Paul said? “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that …” Ah, there’s more. But that’s a sermon for Sunday. You’ll have to come back then for the rest of it.

Posted on by Chris Moon

Mark 12:41-11 – Take note!

Read Mark 12:41-44.

Jesus saw something interesting that day in the temple treasury, and He made sure the disciples took note. Every now and then in Jesus’ ministry, we see Jesus taking note of something He thought was remarkable – either good or bad. On one occasion, a Roman centurion came pleading help from Jesus. The centurion’s servant was lying at home paralyzed, suffering greatly, and the centurion was absolutely certain the Jewish Messiah could heal him. The centurion was a Gentile, a pagan. Jesus marveled at the man’s faith (Matthew 8:10). That was notable. On another occasion, Jesus went to His hometown, to people who knew Jesus and His family. It was a good Jewish town, surely. But Jesus couldn’t do many miracles there. The people had no faith. Jesus found that amazing (Mark 6:6). It was notable.

Here in Mark 12, Jesus watched the rich people of the community drop their big offerings into the shofar chests in the temple treasury. Scholars think these chests, shaped with a trumpet bell on top, made a clanking noise when money was deposited into them. Big clanks here and there. Rich men walking with chests puffed out. They’d be noticed for their gifts. If nothing else, they could feel good about themselves. Not many people could make such large donations to the work of the temple.

And then the poor widow came in. Among the rich, I picture her as small and quiet. She had at least two things running against her in life. She was poor. That’s not a good thing, usually. If you are really poor, you are going to be insecure in things like food, clothing, and housing – the necessities of life. A day may come when you can’t afford to buy those things. The other thing running against this woman in life was the fact she was a widow. That was a vulnerable place to be in those days. Really, it’s a vulnerable place to be today. You are on your own as a widow. We might hope the poor widow had children who could assist her, but we aren’t told that. She simply is identified as a poor widow.

So this woman was different than some of the others in the temple treasury that day. A lot of them were rich. Mark tells us: “Many rich people put in large sums.” And this one poor widow came in an dropped in two small copper coins. They amounted to a penny. A bit of nothing, really. Barely a clink.

But Jesus found it notable. He knew that woman. He knew what her gift meant. Perhaps Jesus had met her earlier in the day. Or perhaps He simply was using His divine knowledge. Regardless, He knew her and her situation. It was notable enough He called his disciples over to have a look. He wanted them to take note, too. He found something He wanted them to see. I imagine Jesus pointed her out of the crowd as she left the temple treasury. “That woman, right over there. Do you see her?”

Jesus saw what she had done. Of course He did. Jesus is the divine Son of God. He sees everything. Every small act of faith, Jesus sees it. It’s comforting when you think about it. And it’s a bit discomforting. Jesus sees every small sin, too.

But Jesus seemed impressed by what He saw from the poor widow. It was notable. Jesus wanted the disciples to see it. What the poor widow had done was a big thing – bigger than the gifts of all those rich people who made their big donations, with their big coins clanking into those offering boxes, making such a big racket. Jesus told the disciples, as he pointed her out from across the temple treasury, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more …”

I wonder what that poor widow had been thinking. She gave everything she had. That’s what Jesus said. And Jesus would know. Who would do such a thing? What was she going to eat? What was she going to drink? What would she wear? Where would she live? She gave everything she had to live on. She just threw it into the offering box without so much as a sound. No one likely even noticed her. Except Jesus.

Maybe someone manipulated that poor widow. You know how there are certain people in this world who prey upon the vulnerable, the elderly, the uneducated. Jesus knew about evil people like that. Just a moment earlier, He had warned people about the scribes. They were a proud, greedy bunch. The scribes liked it when people greeted them in the market and gave them the best seats in the house. They also, Jesus said, “devour widows’ houses” (Mark 12:38-40). Perhaps the scribes manipulated poor widows into giving up what wealth they had. “Give it to God. You don’t need it.” Pretty soon, those widows would have nothing to live on. Maybe that was what happened to that poor widow. Maybe she had been manipulated.

Or maybe she just was a woman of faith. You know people like that. “Grandma, where is your next meal going to come from? Where is your next rent payment going to come from? How will you pay your bills?” Grandma is resolute. “The Lord will provide. Child, you just have to trust.” Perhaps that is it. Maybe the poor widow wasn’t manipulated. Maybe she simply trusted the Lord to take care of her every need.

Maybe. We don’t know exactly. Jesus didn’t declare that poor widow was a great woman of faith, although we’re pretty sure she was. Jesus also didn’t say she was a victim of those greedy scribes. What we do know is Jesus said the poor widow gave “more.” She gave more than the rich people who were there. How can that be? It is hard to give less than that poor widow gave. What’s less than a penny? But you know this. You know the teaching.

Jesus was saying the poor widow gave proportionally more than those rich people did. Jesus said, “They all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Those rich people gave their big gifts, and then, we assume, they went home. They had homes to go home to. Food still was in the pantry. Their closets still were full of clothes. The car still was in the garage. The kids’ college tuition fund still had money in it. The 401(k) still was growing. Everything was pretty good. They were living with “abundance,” as Jesus said.

The poor widow, meanwhile – What was going to happen to her? How would she live after giving up those two small copper coins – “all she had to live on”? Mark’s Gospel doesn’t tell us what happened to the poor widow. We don’t have Jesus rushing out after her – to turn a few loaves of bread into an “abundance” for her – or to miraculously make her next rent payment. The poor widow just walks into and out of the Bible.

I think we are to assume the poor widow would be just fine. God would take care of her. Is that a safe assumption? Are you comfortable with that? After all, Jesus had said, “Do not worry about what you will eat …” (Matthew 6:25).

But what about you? Are you going to be fine? “Oh, yes, yes,” we’ll say. “After this, we’re going to go home to have lunch. There’s a roast in the crockpot right now, just simmering away, covered in salt and pepper and one full stick of butter. It’s been there since 4 a.m. That’s when you have to start the Sunday roast – at 4 a.m. Kick off the covers, walk through the house in your pajamas, start the roast, then head back to your warm bed. But make sure you plug in the crockpot. Don’t forget that part. The whole family might be coming over after church. It will be a good afternoon. Yes, yes, we’ll be fine.”

Some of us have our systems. We have so much to give, and we give it. Everything else is in its place. Money in the bank. Bills paid. Tithe in hand. A little savings. A little fun money. Everything is good. But don’t upset the system. The system keeps things in balance. The system is good.

So we will be OK. But are we going to be fine because of our abundance – or because of God? The Lord is not looking for big gifts in the offering box. The precise size of the gift doesn’t seem important to Jesus. He is looking for faith – in you. He wants to know you trust Him, and that you are willing to act on that trust.

I think we need to be careful. This text is a warning. Jesus in the temple treasury, after watching that poor widow deposit her two copper coins into the offering box, made the connection between what we give and what we have left over. We ought not to disconnect the two – because Jesus didn’t. The amount we give has meaning in relation to what we still have left over. Those rich people gave a lot, but they had a lot left over. That poor widow gave a little, a penny, and had nothing left over. Her gift was “more.”

I don’t know that Jesus is telling us to give everything away like that poor widow did. Of course, Jesus did tell some people to do that (Mark 10:21). But I think Jesus is telling us we aren’t measured by what we have or, necessarily, by what we give. No, I think Jesus is telling us we are measured by our faith. And what we give and what we have left over can tell Jesus an awful lot about our faith.

Where do you put your trust? Is it in Christ, or is it in your abundance? You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. But do you know you will you be fine because of your abundance – or do you know you will be fine because you know you have a Savior who cares for you and who sees you even when you become small and insignificant in the world’s eyes, even when you are down to your last penny?

I once had a church elder tell me, “Preacher, don’t tell the people to give. Never tell them to give.” I gently noted that giving is in the Bible. But that church elder said, “Don’t tell them to give. They don’t want to hear it. And …” – now this is important – “there are some little old ladies in the church who will hear you and give. They’ll do it. I know they will. And they shouldn’t. They are widows. On fixed incomes. And they’ll hear you say, ‘Give to God,’ and they’ll do it. So, preacher, don’t tell the people to give. Because some will. And they shouldn’t.”

For better or worse, I took that elder’s advice. I’ve not preached much on giving over the years. Maybe that elder was right. Maybe some of you, widows or not, shouldn’t give to the work of the kingdom of God. Who am I to say? But whether you give a lot or a little or nothing at all, I do know this: Christ knows your faith – and what you give and what you have left over can tell Jesus an awful lot about it. “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more.”

It is Palm Sunday. The people laid their palm branches and their cloaks on the road in front of Jesus. They cried, “Hosanna!” They welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem as king. He had everything in the palm of His hand. But by the end of the week, Jesus was hanging on the cross – for the forgiveness of your sins. Truly, I say to you, He put in more. What more could Jesus give? The old prophet said, “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace” (Isaiah 53:5). That is notable.

Posted on by Chris Moon

Mark 9:14-29 – Anything but prayer

When I encountered this text, one thing I wondered about was what happened before Jesus arrived on the scene. It would be the scene before this scene. We know what Jesus had been doing. Jesus and Peter, James, and John had just come down from the Mount of Transfiguration. We believe the normal name for that mountain was Mount Tabor, but I’m happy just to call it the Mount of Transfiguration. It was a glorious moment there on the mountain. Jesus had been praying. He was transfigured. His clothes became dazzlingly white. Moses and Elijah made appearances. The Father in heaven spoke to the disciples. It was a glorious moment. It would have been good to stay up there on the Mount of Transfiguration. But there was more work to do down in the valley. So down they went – Jesus and the Three. And they found an ugly situation at the foot of the mountain.

We know what Jesus and the Three had been doing, but we don’t know what was happening at the foot of the mountain, down with the crowd and the boy and the hapless disciples. I wonder what happened down there before Jesus arrived on the scene.

That poor boy had an evil spirit that seemed intent on killing him. And the boy’s father was beside himself about it, and naturally so. And the disciples? They turned out to be no help. The father brought the boy to Jesus. Did you catch that part? The father brought the boy to Jesus, and all he found were the disciples. They couldn’t do anything. “No, I’d really like to speak to the manager. Is he around?” “No. He’s up on the mountain. What can do for you?” It caused quite a commotion. The skeptical scribes were there in the crowd, heckling from the back row. “You guys can’t do anything!” It was an ugly scene.

I guess I’m primarily curious to know how the disciples tried to cast the demon out of that boy. The disciples weren’t exactly novices at casting out demons. They had done it before. Not long before this story, Jesus had sent them out two by two, like pent-up animals out of the freshly landed ark – out into the world – and Jesus gave the disciples authority over demons. And the disciples went out in six directions. They were successful. Mark tells us in chapter 6, “So they went out and proclaimed that people should repent. And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them” (Mark 6:12-13).

So the disciples were like high school boys in auto shop class, just after they’d changed the oil in their first few cars. I imagine them brimming with confidence. They were ready to work on the head gaskets. But then the disciples encountered this one particular demon there at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration. It was a difficult case. That demon didn’t respond like the other demons had responded.

I wonder how the disciples tried to cast out that demon. What were their methods? I assume the disciples tried to do things the way Jesus did. That’s the best tactic. Learn from the master.

They probably tried rebuking the evil spirit. That’s what Jesus did. He rebuked the demons. To rebuke something means to express disapproval of it or to level a criticism. But you have to be rather sharp about it if it’s a true rebuke. “You evil spirit! You are tormenting this poor boy!” Something like that. Exclamation points are required.

At the very start of Jesus’ ministry, just after Jesus called the disciples to follow Him, He encountered a man with an unclean spirit in Capernaum, on the Sabbath (Mark 1:21-28). It happened right there in the synagogue, in the middle of the sermon Jesus was preaching. The demon called out from the man who was sitting there in the congregation, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are – the Holy One of God.” Mark says Jesus rebuked the spirit and said, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the spirit did.

I think the disciples must have tried to rebuke that evil spirit at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration. “You evil spirit, making this boy mute!” And then I imagine they commanded the spirit to come out of the boy. That’s probably the most important part of the whole project of casting out demons. “Thomas, give it the command. Tell it to ‘Come out!’”

That’s another thing they’d seen Jesus do. It worked for Jesus. Over on the far side of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus cast a demon out of a man and into a large herd of pigs (Mark 5:1-20). The pigs rushed down the hill into the sea and drowned. Jesus was resolute. “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” Jesus had done the same thing in Capernaum. Perhaps those were the magic words – “Come out!”

I think the disciples, surrounded by that crowd at foot of the Mount of Transfiguration, must have tried to command the spirit to come out of that boy. “Come out of him. Now.”

It didn’t work. “Andrew, you try it.” “OK. Come out, you demon. Now! … We mean it!” It didn’t work. The rebuking didn’t work. The commands didn’t work. This demon was stubborn.

Maybe the disciples tried asking the demon its name. Jesus once did that. On that hillside on the far shore of the Sea of Galilee – to that evil spirit He sent into the pigs – Jesus asked the demon its name. “What is your name?” That might have been important. The people standing there may have needed to know what Jesus was dealing with. That demon’s name was Legion. Jesus not only had authority to cast out demons one at a time. But He also could throw out a thousand of them with just a word. People needed to know that.

“Philip, ask the demon its name.” I imagine they might have done that. That didn’t work either. I think this was a quiet demon.

Maybe they tried to move the demon into some animal. Jesus had done that, too. Remember the pigs on the far side of the Sea of Galilee, drowned in the lake. I imagine the disciples looke around. “Does anyone here have … a pig?” No success.

What do you do when you can’t rebuke, you can’t cast out, you can’t make headway – when you can’t do the things that have worked in the past? What do you do? What do you do when you simply are stuck, when your own efforts are futile, when you just don’t know what to do? What do you do when there are no magic words, magic bullets, magic numbers?

I wonder what the disciples tried before Jesus showed up. We only can speculate.

Fortunately, Jesus did arrive. I imagine the disciples were happy to see Jesus. The people brought Jesus the boy. The spirit saw Jesus and sent the boy into new convulsions. So Jesus did what the disciples had seen Him in the past. He rebuked the demon. “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” And that was that. The moment was dramatic. At first, they thought the boy suddenly died, right there in front of them. But Jesus took the boy by the hand and raised him up. The boy was fine.

Later, when the disciples were all alone with Jesus, they asked Him about it. It was an embarrassing situation, really. Things had gotten ugly out there. They didn’t want to get in a situation like that again. So the disciples asked Jesus. “Why could we not cast it out?” Did they tell Jesus all the ways they tried to cast it out? We don’t know. But I think Jesus knew. He certainly knew one thing they didn’t try.

Jesus said, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.”

That might be disappointing to know. Not by anything but prayer. Some demons could be driven out by other methods, I suppose. Rebuking them. Calling them out. Sending them into the pigs. Some demons could be driven out by bold disciples speaking bold words in faith. Never forget the faith. But some demons – “this kind” – you’ve got to pray.

Not by “anything but prayer,” Jesus said. I guess we say that, too. But we modify it sometimes. We don’t say, “Not by anything but prayer.” We just say, “Anything but prayer.” That’s a mentality you can have. That mentality wants to become our quiet, subconscious, unspoken mantra in life. “Anything but prayer.” We don’t even realize this is how we think.

“I’ll do anything but pray. I’ll figure out how to accomplish this hard task on my own. I don’t have a lot of time in my day. I don’t have time to pray. I’ve got my work. I’ve got my kids. I’ve got the commute. I’ve got the house. I’ve got my parents. I’ve got my hobbies. I’ve got projects. Busy, busy, busy. So I’ll just do it myself, by my own power. I’ll use any method but prayer. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ Didn’t my dad say that? Anything but prayer.”

…

“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed” (Mark 1:35). Early in Mark’s gospel, we just got to meet Jesus. We just got done shaking His hand, and there He goes – off by Himself to pray. Didn’t Jesus know the people needed Him – that Jesus could do something for them?

…

“This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” Many people have said it: If you want to do great works for God, you’ve got to be a person of great prayers to God.

Jesus always was doing great works for God. And He always was praying. He always was opening Himself up to His Father, living in communion with Him, living in dependance upon Him. And Jesus seemed to be telling His disciples, “If you want to cast out this kind of a demon, this kind of intractable, hard, entrenched, mute and deaf spirit, you must do the same. You must be men of prayer.”

Have you given up your praying? Men and women of faith always are people of prayer. Always. That’s what they do.

You can’t convince your child or your brother or your parent or your neighbor or your co-worker of the gospel? “Why can’t I do this?” You must pray.

You can’t bring yourself peace, free yourself from anxiety, eliminate your pride, end your self-serving narcissism, cast out your lustful tendencies, fix your children, fix your parents, fix your spouse, fix yourself? “Why can’t I do this?” You must pray.

You can’t make your community turn to Christ? You can’t grow your church? You can’t spark a revival or a spiritual awakening? “Why can’t I do this?” You must pray.

In the final analysis, your methods aren’t good enough. Are we, as a church, people of prayer? Are you, as a Christian, a person of prayer?

Posted on by Chris Moon

Mark 5:21-43 – Out of the crowd

One prominent feature of this episode in the life of Jesus is the crowd. The crowd always is present in this text. In fact, this is one the primary features of the Gospel of Mark – the crowd. People are everywhere in Mark’s Gospel. In this text, the crowd was there when Jesus’ boat approached the shore. The crowd was there as Jesus moved through the town, following Jairus toward his home. The crowd was there when the poor woman with the hemorrhage of blood slipped in behind Jesus to touch the hem of his garment. The crowd was there, first weeping and then laughing, at Jairus’ house with Jairus’ dead daughter inside.

The crowd always was with Jesus. The crowd makes this text a little hectic. These scenes are full of commotion. The crowd, Mark tells us, “thronged about” Jesus. That means they were jostling each other, pushing in, eager. Some in the great crowd that surrounded Jesus believed deeply in Him. They believed in His power to heal. They thought if they could just touch him, they would be healed (Mark 3:10). Others in that great crowd were irreverent – skeptical even. You can count the disciples among them. “What do you mean someone touched you? Of course someone touched you. Just look at this crowd. Everyone’s trying to touch you!” Meanwhile, the people at Jairus’ house frowned their faces at Jesus. “No, Jesus, that poor, 12-year-old girl is dead alright. She’s certainly not sleeping. We know death when we see it. The land of Israel always has been full of death. Are you trying to make some kind of a joke?”

Two healings occurred in this text. And Jesus labored in this text, I think. He worked. But Jesus didn’t labor with the healings. Those seemed quite easy for Jesus. No, Jesus labored with the crowd – the difficult, boisterous, pushy, doubtful crowd. Jesus’ work was with the people. The miracles do not appear to have been any work at all.

Some of us don’t like crowds. We will avoid crowds at all costs. That’s why some of us chose to live in a place like this. To us, crowds mean stress and anxiety. They mean work. The problem with crowds, we know, is they are full of people. And people are difficult.

I recall our family visiting Disney World years ago. The thing I remember most about our visit to the “magic kingdom” were the first three minutes inside the park. The park was having some kind of “dance party” that morning, and we were swept into it. If you haven’t been there, the front entrance to Disney World is like a main street, with shops along both sides. It’s supposed to look like a scene from a Disney film. Parents and children were shoulder-to-shoulder moving down the street. Vendors were everywhere, selling all sorts of souvenirs. The scent of food was in the air. Costumed performers were dancing around in circles. Some were dressed like Disney characters. The music was blaring. Above us were people, balanced on tall stilts, dancing.

I’ll never forget that moment. It was a bit much for me. If I was a child, you would say I was “over-stimulated.” Sight, sound, smell – it overwhelmed my senses. I just wanted to get out of there, and we did. I ushered our family right through that “dance party.” It was an evacuation drill for our kids. “Keep moving! Don’t look back! Where are the roller-coasters anyway? Anyone have a map?” It was a lot – moving along with the thronging crowd. I’d prefer a quiet day in the woods.

Some of us don’t like crowds. Jesus had no choice. He spent his ministry on earth laboring with the crowds – with people of all walks of life. He labored with people who wore costumes and pretended they were something they were not. He labored with people who were loud and obnoxious. He labored with people who were sad and sick. He labored with people who wanted to accuse Him and hurt Him. He labored with people who just wanted to escape but were stuck there in the crowd. He labored with the happy and the hurt.

Who are these people? When I look at a crowd, I just see bodies and facial expressions and movement and noise. Some people might look at a crowd and just see germs – “a good way to get sick,” they say, “hanging around all those people, in the crowd.” Some people might look at a crowd and feel eyes. “Is everyone looking at me?” Some people might look at a crowd and find it very energizing. Others might find it exhausting.

Jesus had no choice in any of this. The crowds just were with Him – seemingly all the time. Who were these people?

In Mark 5:21-43, the crowd produced two individuals. These two people ceased simply to be part of the crowd. They became individuals. They had histories. They had social standings in their communities. They had desires and personalities.

One of these individuals was a man named Jairus. Jairus had a family – a wife and a 12-year-old daughter. The gospel of Luke informs us she was his only daughter. Jairus was a leader in the community. He ruled over the synagogue, which was the house of worship for the Jews in that town. Jairus was a respected man. He also likely was a wealthy one. He was a symbol of spirituality, of faithfulness, of ritual purity. But Jairus had a problem. His daughter was on the verge of death. Jairus was desperate. That is the first person who emerged from the crowd that day – the man named Jairus.

The other individual who emerged from the crowd that day was a woman – a nameless woman. Women obviously are different than men, and in those days, they had a lower social standing than men. And this woman’s situation even was worse. She suffered from an issue of blood. This hemorrhage would have been a major inconvenience and obstacle to a normal life. But it also likely made her ritually unclean among the Israelites. It was the law. This woman would not have been welcome in open society for fear she might contaminate others. Her ritual impurity was contagious. This woman likely didn’t have a husband. She wasn’t exactly “marriage material,” if you know what I mean. And she may have been unable to have children even if she had been married. We’re not sure what kind of job this woman worked, but she may have been unemployable – because of the blood. And we know she was poor – her finances ravaged by all the doctors she’d visited for those 12 years. Those doctors left her worse off than when she began. So she probably was a pretty frustrated and depressed. And, suffice it to say, she was desperate. And again, we don’t know her name.

These were the two people who emerged that day from the crowd that surrounded Jesus Christ. They are very different kinds of people, aren’t they? One was a prominent man – wealthy, with a family, ritually pure, respected, powerful. We know his name was Jairus. The other was a lowly woman – likely poor, likely with no family, ritually impure, shunned, powerless. We don’t know her name. But both these individuals were desperate. They had needs. And they’d heard about what Jesus could do.

We look at the crowd. Who are these people? Well, now we know two of them.

Is there anything that ought to keep a person from coming to Jesus? This text reminds us nothing needs to separate us from Christ. Not our gender. Not our social status. Not our economics or wealth. Not our ritual purity or religious background. Not our family status, our fertility, our history, our physical ailments.

Out of that crowd came two very different individuals. But the thing they had in common was they came. Jairus walked up to Jesus and fell at His feet. The nameless woman took a different tact. But by the end of her story, she also was on the ground at Jesus’ feet.

Different kinds of people, but similar, desperate needs. And faith. I assume you saw how faith is the theme here. These healings were predicated on faith.

Jesus didn’t let the woman remain in the crowd, anonymous, nameless. We don’t know her name, but someone in that crowd likely did. “Who touched my garments?” Jesus didn’t let the woman hide. No, no. That wouldn’t do. You must confess your faith.

And she did. In fear and trembling, feeling in her body that she’d been healed. She fell down at Jesus’ feet and told him the “whole truth.” This is faith. It doesn’t matter who hears. The social conventions don’t matter. Nothing matters but Jesus. “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

And then the people came from Jairus’ house just then, with bad news. “Your daughter is dead, Jairus. I’m sorry. It’s over. Don’t waste the Teacher’s time anymore. Come on home. We’ll help you bury her.” It’s like letting the air out of the balloon … or building the tension. Jesus heard it, and He told Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.” Remember, this text is about faith.

And Jairus did believe. He believed all the way home, all the way through that weeping crowd standing on his front porch, all the way through their certainty about the girl really being dead, all the way into the room with his wife and Jesus and those three young, wide-eyed disciples. Jairus believed with a faith that persevered in the face of the world’s unbelief. We know Jairus believed because that little girl woke up and had lunch.

This is what was in the crowd around Jesus – some people with faith like this. It’s the same faith we are called to have. It’s a faith that seeks out the salvation that only Jesus can provide. It’s a faith that rises irrespective of a person’s background – rich or poor, male or female, black or white or brown, healthy or disabled. None of that matters. It’s a faith that steps out publicly and falls at Jesus’ feet. It’s a faith that knows it cannot be silent – that it must tell the “whole truth” – that it must witness. It’s a faith that perseveres when the world laughs at it.

And Jesus labored with the crowd, looking for that kind of faith. He found it.

We were at a spring training baseball game in Arizona. It brought a big crowd. In the ninth inning, the would-be players were given opportunities to bat. These were the players who had small chance to make the team. One of those would-be players had the first name of Harold. I remember his name because a little girl next to us was cheering for Harold. “Harold, you can do it!” “You got this, Harold!” “Come on, Harold. I believe in you!” The sweet voice of a child, cheering on Harold. Everyone nearby could hear her. It made us chuckle. It was misplaced faith. Harold hit a fly ball to left field that was caught. And he didn’t make the team.

But there’s something to it, I think. Is your faith in Jesus even that bold, unashamed, vocal? Remember, Jesus is looking for that kind of faith in this crowd – the desperate faith of Jairus, the fearful and trembling faith of the nameless woman. Paul wrote it to us, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9). Believe and confess your belief. That’s salvation.