“The secret of serving”
Mark 9:30-37 (September 22, 2024)
Have you ever had to keep a secret? It’s not easy!
News of a birthday party that happens to slip out at the wrong moment, in front of someone who shouldn’t hear? A bit of good news you’ve just found out? You’re dying to say something … when – oops – out it tumbles. A piece of salacious gossip that would set your neighbour’s ears a-tingling? My goodness, it's hard to hold it in! Why is it that as soon as someone asks us not to share, the pressure to do so increases exponentially?
In last Sunday’s reading, we heard Peter confess that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ. You’d think that would be the kind of news to shout from the rooftops. Isn’t evangelism part of Jesus’ call to discipleship? Yet Jesus “sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone about him.” (Mark 8:30)
Again, in today’s reading, Jesus passes through the region of Galilee. But he doesn’t want anyone to know it. All through the Gospel of Mark we have repeated instances of Jesus telling folks to keep quiet – the demons he cast out, the people he healed, even the disciples themselves.
Scholars have referred to this as the “Messianic Secret.” Jesus does not want people to share. Perhaps because the disciples are not ready. They only have part of the story. They’ve had the miracles, the wonderful, spectacular miracles! But they haven’t had the cross. They have yet to see the full implications of Jesus’ life and ministry.
In our passage today he speaks of the cross again: “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.”
The disciples can barely take it in. A Messiah who suffers is not part of their calculation. It does not compute. “They did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask.”
I think, actually, the disciples are beginning to understand. When scripture says “they were afraid to ask,” it seems to me they had an inkling. And it scared them. There are times in all our lives when things are just too hard to speak of. We don’t want to face them. We push them aside. “Please, can we not talk about this?”
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So then, what are the disciples talking about? Well! Does it come as any surprise to hear they were arguing about who’s the greatest?
This is a human tendency. And it’s present, at some level, in every one of us. We want to get ahead. We want to be first in class, #1, the gold medal winner. We want a place of honour, privilege, maybe power. In its extreme form, this becomes a kind of narcissism, where all we can see is ourselves. “Look at me!” Do you know anyone like that?
Surely not any Mennonites, for we have learned to be a modest and humble people. But perhaps, if you look deep enough, you’ll be able to find, here and there, a hint of selfish ambition.
The disciples know better. Which is why they hang their heads in silence. They know what they’ve been discussing. And what’s worse … they know that Jesus does too. It’s an awkward moment.
Jesus, of course, can see into every heart. Don’t even bother trying to hide it! It’s not going to work. He’ll see right through that self-righteous mask you try to wear. You may be able to fool others – maybe even yourself sometimes – but you’ll never fool him!
“Tell me, what was it you were discussing?” he asks. Silence.
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So then Jesus takes a seat – which is the posture a rabbi used when he wanted to teach his students. He calls the twelve and gathers them around and sits down.
Then he repeats this shocking word of instruction, the same sort of thing we heard last Sunday, when he said you gain life by losing life. And that we should take up our cross. In today’s passage he says, “Whoever wants to be first must be servant of all.” Not chief disciple but last in line.
And then, just to give a bit of visual aid, he takes a little child and puts it among them. Watch now as he takes this child in his arms. Literally, he hugs him. Jesus wraps his big strong arms around this little one and pulls the child in toward himself. As though he’s known them all his life, and loves them with a love that will never, ever, let them go. And isn’t that the truth of it!
He holds this little one tight. Then looks around at his friends. And says that whoever welcomes “one such as this” welcomes Jesus himself. And not only that, but welcomes the very God who sent him! Think about it. Reject God’s little ones and you reject God’s own self. Welcome God’s little ones and the Holy One of heaven and earth arrives in your midst!
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Welcome is at the centre of what Jesus is speaking of. More than a few perfunctory lines given by the worship leader at the beginning of a service, I mean a real, heart-warming, never-turn-away welcome that embraces the least, the lowly, the pushed aside, the otherwise-ignored.
Have you ever felt unwelcome? Like you didn’t belong in a group of people? An outside? One whom they would never fully-embrace?
Now, consider the opposite. A time when someone went out of their way to extend hospitality, and make you feel included, to bring you in.
I remember hearing about the greeting someone received when they first came to a congregation. One person in that church, in particular, had reached out to them. “And who knows, I might not be here,” they said, “if it wasn’t for that.”
In our circles, who goes unnoticed? Who is looked over? Who is deemed unacceptable, and therefore excluded by definition?
There’s always an edge to Jesus, isn’t there? He pushes at our boundaries. He won’t let us rest easy with the status quo of our lives. Because he wants for us so much more! He’s calling us into a heavenly kingdom, a new way of being, God’s way, even here on earth.
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Jesus took the child in his arms and he hugged them.
Lindsay and I had a little song we sang with our children as they were growing up. We learned it from one of their kindergarten teachers:
“Four hugs a day, that’s the minimum,
Four hugs a day, not the maximum.”
And so we’d chase each other around the house, mostly laughing, though sometimes resisting, until we got our hugs.
Sometimes we have this romantic notion of children, like they’re all cuteness and innocence. But anyone who’s spent much time with them will realize that children can be just as self-centred as adults can.
You’ve heard me speak of my 2 ½ year old granddaughter, who I love dearly. But I also know she likes to test the limits of good behaviour. It’s all part of growing up. She likes to think she has some kind of power over me. Little ones don’t have a lot of opportunity for that (the world is so much bigger than they are), so I frequently play along with it. She directs me and I obey her orders.
But sometime she’ll need to learn (we all need to learn) that living well with neighbours means we try not to push others around. I’m not bigger than you, nor are you bigger than me.
In the Realm of God, says Jesus, the values of this old world we live in are being turned upside down. “Whoever wants to be first must become last of all and servant of all.”
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And now we come full-circle, because our passage began with a secret – remember? Mark’s Messianic Secret: “Don’t say anything. Don’t tell anyone about me.” Yet word about Jesus continued to spread. You can’t hold the Good News in.
So I want to finish by sharing another of Jesus’ so-called secrets. Maybe you’ve already heard it! But here it is again. It still surprises me.
The secret to life – and here I mean fullness of life – is found in serving. Serving God, serving others. Letting go of that deathly-tight grip we have on our own well-being, so that we can pay attention to the interests of our neighbours.
In doing this, we die to our own self-centredness. We lose our lives, at least that sinful part of us that wants to make ourselves bigger than everyone else around. Living in the kingdom of God shrinks our egos down to size.
We lose our lives to save our lives. When we focus not just on ourselves but on those around us, we find that, miraculously, our lives become enlarged, enriched. We grow, as persons, to become more than we were before. More loving, more caring. More aware of other’s needs. More compassionate. More Christ-like in character.
The community we are part of grows larger too, with more invited in. The bonds that tie humanity together are strengthened. And Lord knows, in our coming-apart society, we need that! We all do better together. Life for all of us becomes larger, fuller, richer, more lovely.
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When I think of Jesus and the child in our story, I think of a woman who lived in small-town Ontario, in the first church I served. Her name was Thelma. And you could find her every Sunday morning in the corner of the lower auditorium, where the nursery was located.
She gladly took responsibility for it. All the children of the church came through her door. It was their first contact with the family of faith – and I guess with Jesus himself – as their parents went about the important business of worship upstairs in the sanctuary.
Thelma worshipped too, sort of. There was a speaker wired into the nursery so she could listen to the sermon while she sat in her rocking chair, holding a little one in her arms. But her primary focus was always the children in her care. And she never claimed to be missing out.
Maybe you know a Thelma. Maybe you’ve been a Thelma. I hope today we will pray for people like her who offer care for little ones. And I don’t only mean children. I mean newcomers, people with disabilities, and all sorts of folk whose lives depend on the kindness of others. People on beds of illness, people on the street. The very young and the very old. People far away in need.
“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all. … Whoever welcomes one such little one in my name … welcomes me.” Do you want to know fullness of life? Here’s the secret: Try serving others. Try living the Christ-life with your neighbour.
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And now for the really good news: We are all God’s children, drawn by the arms of Jesus, into the circle of God’s love. What a gift!
But don’t tell anyone! Unless, of course, it happens to slip out along the way …
https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56876 [retrieved September 23, 2024]. Original source: https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/come-unto-me-little-children-11621." width="278" height="98" />
“A royal waste of time”
Ephesians 5:15-20 (August 18, 2024)
There’s a note my children gave me, attached to a lovely new canoe paddle, as a gift for my retirement – that is, my first retirement. It reads like this: “In hopes that you will always remember to do the things that bring you joy … - the ‘kids.’”
I love the thoughtfulness of that. It was good advice and so I decided to keep the note. In fact, it’s sitting in our car, just under the dashboard. Every time I get in, I see that encouragement to do what gives me joy.
A year ago, someone entered our unlocked vehicle and took several things, including a handful of change and a set of prescription sunglasses. The one thing they left was this note. I guess they thought it had no value. But it does! At least to me.
And it sounds remarkably like the advice given to us in Ephesians chapter 5. “Be careful how you live,” it begins, “not as unwise people but as wise.”
And what does this wisdom consist of? Paul’s advice to the Ephesians was to make the most of the time. Literally, the phrase is to “redeem” time. To buy it up. Take it back and put it to good use. Don’t let a single moment go to waste.
“Because the days are evil,” he says. And while that may sound a bit extreme to us, it was indeed a dark time for that first-century Christian community, in conflict with the synagogue and in growing tension with the state.
Paul says, “Redeem the time.” Be wise, not foolish. Use what you have for good, not evil.
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Would you say the “days are evil?” I feel very fortunate to live at this particular time, and in this particular place. Yet there’s an undercurrent that gives me pause. You can hear it voiced in conversations. Beyond the standard complaints about this or that …
There is anxiety about change in our society, conflict all around us, difficult problems with no solution in sight, threats and dangers looming on the horizon.
Of course, we develop coping mechanisms to keep all this at bay: We seek entertainment to distract us. We turn to consumerism, filling our lives with more possessions. We go to parties. Or we find ourselves drawn into the virtual world of the internet, which is itself addictive.
“Don’t be drunk with wine,” says this letter to the Ephesians. Don’t spend your time on meaningless diversions. But instead, be filled with the Spirit of God.
I want to pause and have you think about what’s filling your life. What monopolizes your time? What do you spend your emotional energy on – your worries, your fears, your frustrations? And now ask yourself this: Is it wise or foolish to live this way?
“Be careful how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.” (Eph. 5:15)
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I was sitting with some folks the other day, visiting back and forth, and the phrase came up: “Life’s too short!” It’s a familiar expression, isn’t it?
Life’s too short … For what? For getting upset about this or that. For allowing some trivial matter to ruin a relationship. For letting our worry about something overwhelm us or take away the joy of living.
Life’s too short for a lot of things. This is what Ephesians says: Don’t waste your time. Instead, redeem it. Use it for something good, joyful, hopeful!
We only have so many years. What did the Psalmist write? “The days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even then their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” (Ps. 90:10)
Toil and trouble. Oh dear. That sounds like another pessimistic assessment. These days, with all the demands upon our lives, time goes by even faster, and seems to be in short supply.
Our passage today calls us to be full of God’s Spirit. The Spirit that brings new life. The Spirit that reminds us of Jesus. The Spirit that is mysteriously present in and through the whole creation, in every place and every time.
This Spirit brings to us the presence of God, and the activity of God.
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“Be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts …” (Eph. 5:20)
Make melody to the Lord. It’s what we do here every Sunday morning. Singing has been part of Christian worship for centuries. The writer of Ephesians commends this practice. He tells us it’s a good thing.
I asked a friend this week why they sing. And this is what they answered:
“I like singing. It comes from the heart. And the mind. I like the feeling it gives. And I like to think that it inspires and encourages people. I like to sing praise to God and about God. I think I’ve been given a talent that I need to use to glorify God.”
The singing this person speaks of comes from the heart and reaches toward heaven. And when it touches the lives of others along the way, so much the better!
Do you sing? At home? In the car? With the radio? Do you hum softly so no one else will hear? Lindsay and I find ourselves singing more than ever, now that we have grandchildren in our lives. Little ones are not self-conscious or embarrassed. We read a book, we sing a song, we clap our hands in rhythmic delight.
Singing is part of our human lives. And it doesn’t all depend on skill or training. It’s a natural form of communication.
Listen … robins sing! Whales sing. “The valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy.” (Psalm 65:13)
Christians sing:
“My life flows on in endless song,
above earth’s lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that Rock I’m clinging.
Since love is Lord of heav’n and earth,
how can I keep from singing.”[1]
And so the writer of Ephesians tells us to make melody to the Lord in our hearts, in the midst of a discordant world
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“Giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Eph. 5:20)
Giving thanks at all times. Not just in church. But at home, at work, when we rise in the morning – now that’s a tough one for me, because I can be a little grumpy first thing. And when we go to bed at night.
One author writes: “Gratitude is a powerful force that can transform our perspective on life. By appreciating the good in our daily experiences, we shift our focus to positivity and find fulfillment. Expressing gratitude deepens our connections with others and fosters a sense of community.”[2]
“Give thanks at all times … and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Really, for everything? Well maybe not. Not for death and disaster and darkness in the world. But thankfulness in the midst of everything. Finding something to be thankful for, even in the worst of times. Looking for that one thing that inspires gratitude and directs it to God. Being thankful for God, whose presence never leaves us.
“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank-you,’” wrote the medieval mystic Meister Ekhart, “it will be enough.”[3]
It’s interesting – the word for thanksgiving in the New Testament is Eucharist. And Eucharist, you may know, is another way of referring to the Lord’s Supper. It is a meal of gratitude in which we offer our prayer of thanksgiving. “Thank you, God, for the gift of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.”
Be full of the Spirit, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. And giving thanks.
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I guess you may have noticed: This is the language of worship. This is what the Christian community is meant to do with the time that we’ve been given.
We live lives that are full of worship. That carry what we do here every Sunday morning out into the world. How many times have you caught yourself humming throughout the week something we’ve sung at church, or a piece the choir has performed? It sticks with us. And leads us forward.
This is the antidote for “evil days:” Focus on God! Don’t waste time on silly things that do not matter. Keep in mind the very purpose of your being.
In the Westminster Catechism of 1647, the question is asked, “What is the chief end of human beings?” And the answer is: “The chief end of all humanity is to glorify God, and to enjoy God forever.”[4]
What a remarkable thing to say! Our whole purpose in living is to enjoy the presence of God. Is there joy in your relationship with Jesus? Do you relish being in God’s presence? Do you delight in it?
Live wisely, says Ephesians. Live for what matters. Let beauty and wonder and prayer and praise be part of all you do. Know that God is with you. Even when the days are evil. Redeem them.
Wake up every day and say, “God I thank you! Today I will live for you. Today I will sing your song!”
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You may have wondered why I chose such an odd title for the sermon this morning: “A royal waste of time.” Actually, I borrowed it from a book about worship by theologian and author, Marva Dawn.
She talks about society’s expectation that we use our time productively. We’re always so busy, working to accomplish some great and wonderful thing. But worship, she says, is not like that.[5]
Worship is not our usual busyness. It accomplishes nothing, other than putting ourselves in a place of receptivity, where we can be open to the gift of God, and offer ourselves to God.
The world around us may think of that as a complete waste of time. But nothing could be further from the truth! This is how we learn to enjoy the presence of our Creator.
And this is also where we begin to offer our lives to the service of God’s kingdom. And the life that is truly worth living. The thing that makes our joy complete. What did my kids tell me? “Always remember to do the things that bring you joy.”
“Be careful how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time ….”
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Oh yes, there’s one last thing I need to say. And that is, if there’s something you need to do, or need to say. Or something you think you need to be. Don’t put it off, don’t wait for long.
Because life’s too short. It really is. Whatever days we’re given, they don’t go on forever. So make them count. Take whatever God gives you and live it to the full.
Remember to sing the song that God puts in your heart. And give thanks every single day.
For life itself is a gift. And every moment can be full of God’s beauty and grace. If you seek these things, you will find them. May it be so for you. Amen.
[1] Robert Lowry, Bright Jewels for the Sunday Scholl, 1869, alt.
[2] https://swagcaptions.com/gratitude-quotes/, Accessed August 16, 2024.
[3] https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/meister_eckhart_149158, Accessed August 17, 2024.
[4] https://www.ligonier.org/learn/articles/westminster-shorter-catechism, Accessed August 13, 2024.
[5] Ministry Matters™ | Why worship is a royal waste of time, Accessed August 13, 2024.
WE ARE NOT ALONE! NPMC. August 11, 2024
1 Kings 19:1-16
The 4th century Desert Fathers tell the story of a hermit who wanted to understand the meaning of a particular Scripture. He poured over this text day and night, asking God to reveal its meaning. For 70 weeks, he fasted, eating only once a week.
Finally he said to himself: “Look at all the work I have done without getting anywhere. I will go to one of my brothers and ask him.” He had barely gone out the door when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to him: “The 70 weeks you fasted did not bring you any closer to God, but now that you have humbled yourself and set out to ask your brother, I have been sent to reveal the meaning of this text.” What he could not find alone, an angel revealed to him as soon as he was willing to seek help from his brothers and sisters.
"Elijah is here!"
Elijah is one of the most mysterious characters in all of Scripture. These were the days of a bitter struggle between monotheism and polytheism. Israel was torn between the God of their escape from Egypt, and the local Baalite fertility gods who promised to influence rains and rams.
Elijah lived on the edge of the desert, a sort of old fashioned nomad who would appear out of nowhere to deliver an important message, and just as mysteriously disappear. The king sent messengers to consult with the prophets at a pagan shrine. On their way, they were accosted by "a man with a garment of hair and a leather belt around his waist" who described their assignment, and sent them back with a sobering message for the king.
That was Elijah's pattern. Burst on the scene with dramatic words or acts; vanish into the wilderness to lament his lack of success; there recoup strength for his next brazen encounter. His struggle seemed a solitary one. We catch only rare glimpses of Elijah consorting with other faithful prophets.
Though there are many important themes available to us in this passage, the one that seems especially poignant this morning is Elijah’s repeated plaintive lament - “I alone am left…” Yet immediately beyond today’s text, Elijah is sent to anoint kings for Syria and Israel, and his own successor. Then God adds: “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” “I alone am left!” “Seven thousand in Israel…”
The larger truths for Elijah, and for us in our faith journeys, are, first, that there are times when it seems we walk alone. The second truth moves us beyond our lonely private discouragement and despair. There are, after all, those 7, or 7,000, or 7 million others.
I alone am left…
We’ve all heard the old saying: “Laugh, and the world laughs with you/ Weep, and you weep alone.” The author, Ella Wheeler, wrote this in 1883 after reflecting on her day spent on the train en route to a dance. Near her sat a recently bereaved widow dressed in black.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. (Solitude)
There is truth in Ella Wheeler’s words. During such moments, we do feel very much alone.
This was certainly the case for Elijah. We find Elijah fleeing for his life, an Elijah in abject despair being fed, nourished and instructed by an angel. Both before and after a marvellous private revelation, God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here?” And twice, in verses 10 and 14, Elijah answers like a broken record. His words of self justification, his zeal for the Lord, are followed by a litany of everyone else’s misdeeds. Finally Elijah sums up his predicament in his pithy phrase “I alone am left.” And guess what? They’re seeking my life to take it.
Elijah’s isolation and loneliness feels awfully familiar. During such moments, if we were able to open slightly that shroud of blackness, we might at best catch some strains of an old tune. Many of you will recall that old Appalachian spiritual, “Jesus walked this lonesome valley.” Its origins apparently are a conflation of the Appalachian folk song tradition and the African American spiritual.
In the late 1800s, one of the early collectors of these “lonesome and love tunes” described their setting as a region that “from its inaccessibility (is) a very secluded one. There are but few roads—most of them little better than mountain tracks—and practically no railroads. Indeed, so remote and shut off from outside influence were, until quite recently, these sequestered mountain valleys that the inhabitants have for a hundred years or more been completely isolated and cut off from all traffic with the rest of the world.”
Jesus walked this lonesome valley.
He had to walk it by Himself;
O, nobody else could walk it for Him,
He had to walk it by Himself.
We must walk this lonesome valley;
We have to walk it by ourselves.
Oh, nobody else can walk it for us;
We have to walk it by ourselves.
Go, and anoint…
Elijah certainly walked that lonesome valley, and felt that he was walking that valley alone. “I alone am left,” he sobs. That, and the fear of his enemies, seemed to be Elijah’s last word on the matter. But this was not God’s last word.
“Go,” God said. This God who has spoken to Elijah in a “still small voice,” a “sound of sheer silence,” wants to remind Elijah of some things he in his despair has forgotten. Elijah seemingly cannot name the others who have also been faithful and zealous, even though they have been mentioned throughout these same Scripture passages. What about the Obadiahs who have risked their lives to rescue the hundred prophets of God, and those prophets themselves? What about that servant whom he dismissed just before this story. During such lonely moments, we forget those who share our commitments and struggles. As we turn our energies inward, we distort reality, robbing ourselves of the very supports we so desperately need.
Then God comes to us whether in the wind, earthquake, fire, or still small voice, and says “Go.” And that “Go” is followed by listing particular people with whom Elijah is to establish contact, people who will share Elijah’s purposes and struggle. In fact, even beyond those named, there is a yet larger number of people who share Elijah’s faith, a further 7,000 who have not bowed their knees to Baal.
A Togetherness Project
Christian faith was never envisioned as a solitary personal individualized project. Almost all the New Testament epistles are letters to groups of Christians, churches, or are letters to their leaders, replete with advice on how to help their congregations live better together as bodies of believers. Even the one notable exception, Philemon, is a letter to a Christian slaveowner, entreating him to receive his former slave as a brother. They are in this faith together.
Hebrews 10:23-25 admonishes us:
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching."
Many of you have experienced the support of this and other communities as you have faced important moments in your lives. Fellow believers have rejoiced with you in the birth of a child, have supported you in times of deep grief.
In his seminal work, What is an Anabaptist Christian, Palmer Becker answered his own questions about what are the “sacred” core values of Anabaptist Christians. He summarized those as 1. Jesus is the center of our faith. 2. Community is the center of our lives. 3. Reconciliation is the center of our work.
That is all well and good, but how do we deal with our Elijah moments. Like most North American Christians, we Mennonites have witnessed the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on our community life, on church attendance. One recent survey noted that roughly a third of North Americans have stopped going to church. Most of us remember times when church balconies were full to bursting, when most of our neighbours also headed off Sunday mornings to their churches. We wonder why Mennonite churches are not immune to such patterns, why we alone are remaining faithful.
If “community is the centre of our lives,” if living the Christ life is a togetherness project, why are we so few in the global scene?
Those 7,000 plus
It is understandable that we may at times share Elijah’s sense of despair. But God has a larger picture. Just as God pointed out to Elijah that there were still 7,000 who had not bowed down to Baal, so we need to remember that we are part of much larger provincial, national and international bodies of believers spawned by that Anabaptist vision. Furthermore, there are Christians in mainline, Catholic and Evangelical circles who are leaders in advancing the core convictions of our Anabaptist forebears,
Next January 21st will be the 500th anniversary of those first adult baptisms in Zurich that sparked the Anabaptist Reformation. The Mennonite World Conference now counts almost 1.5 million baptized believers in over 10,000 churches. There are far more Mennonites in the global south, Africa, Asia and South America than in North America and Europe.
And if all the Mennonite churches were to falter, there are several neo-Anabaptist thinkers and groups springing up here and in Europe, both mega churches and house churches, groups that have captured the core Anabaptist vision. The British churchman Stuart Murray helped bolster this movement with his 2010 book, The Naked Anabaptist, his attempt to focus the core gifts of the Anabaptist Reformation. Many of these groups make ample use of small intentional discipleship groups and engage in radical peace making.
We are far from alone with our understanding of the core callings of our Christian faith.
And We are Called to Go
But the story of Elijah does not end with his despair, his sense of “I alone am left.” We have that iconic story of Elijah standing on the mountain as the wind roared, an earthquake shook, and a fire burned. It was then in the sheer silence that God spoke clearly to Elijah.
First, God allows Elijah to repeat yet again his complaint. ““I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”
God has heard this lament, this broken record, before, but now God speaks. And the first divine word is “Go.”
And that is God’s first word to us as well. In Elijah’s case, there are specific things God wants the prophet to do, anointing kings and a successor.
I wonder if that is not the pattern for us as well during our times of discouragement. We can, and often do, spin the broken record, underscoring our being alone, our vulnerability.
But God says “Go.” Make contact with those other faithful ones. Do something about the current situation, whether that be speaking about our faith, acting upon that faith, comforting that grieving widow, supporting that grandchild, donating to that worthy cause, praying for peace. We too can anoint those forces for change.
And then comes that divine zinger. We didn’t read verse 18. But I will read it now. “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”
You are definitely not alone, Elijah. And neither are we. There are those thousands of fellow believers, millions in fact. And some of them are right here, and also in our neighbourhood and in our city and province and country.
We are not alone. And for that, we give God thanks.
