 Luke 21:13: “This will be your opportunity to bear witness.” Luke 21:10-38 is my text for the Saturday sidewalk and Sunday sermons. Usually—at least when I have been in the pew listening—this text is a “let’s get the timing of the second coming right” (i.e., when is Jesus coming back and let’s prepare for it) text. Luke isn’t asking (or telling) the timing on the second coming, but that soon all hell is going to break loose and you need to stay faithful to Me through it all. Luke 21:13 stands out—and it’s not usually a verse covered too much when Luke 21 is viewed as a “timing of the second coming” passage. Here it is: “This will be your opportunity to bear witness.” More straight forward, this verse, after all the disaster that is described to take place, this verse is actually, like a pause . . . like this: “There will be wars and natural disasters and before all this you will be jailed, persecuted, and brought before authorities on account of Me . . . an opportunity for martyrdom.” This takes all the power from us. Something even as Christians we shun and do whatever we can to retain our power. Still . . . Yep, that’s the word here: μαρτύριον, martyrdom. Makes sense this word can be martyrdom or testimony, witness (which is how the ESV and most Bible translations render it). But we can’t loose sight over the fact this word conveys being a martyr. When all hell breaks loose and you are persecuted and jailed and killed for being my followers, all this will present an opportunity for you to be a martyr, an opportunity for a witness. When Jesus goes on afterward, saying don’t plan on what you’re going to say at your defense, I will give you the words (v. 14-15). Many use this to take back the power, to retain our power. Many take this as God will supernaturally give you words to say. We all like to be able to claim that—makes us out to be powerful, special to God, a force to be reckoned with; heck, God is speaking through me! Yea. No. It points in another direction: “Don’t try to defend yourself when brought before the court because you’re a follower of Me. Testify—witness, be a martyr—of Me. This will be your opportunity to be my witness, my martyr.” This speaks. We are too prone to defend ourselves. To claim power. Rather we are called to testify (to loose all power) of Jesus, even when all hell breaks loose. Perhaps we can fathom this type of bearing witness in places like Afghanistan, Syria, China, Iran, Venezuela. Maybe, someday we’ll be in a place like that. But what about now? We can’t even take the tough times here and now and see the opportunity to be a witness, let alone when all hell breaks loose. This is an opportunity for you to be a witness, a testimony, a martyr.
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 As people are gathering in Asbury and now other campuses, whether this is truly a revival or not, people are still praying and confessing confessing sin and committing themselves more deeply to God.
Many people appeal to the “Spirit” texts in Acts as both rationale (proof) that what is happening in Kentucky and other campuses is a “revival” and, also, among the sincere prayers that truly want God to do it again (like in Acts). I'd like to give you, however, some prayers based on the contexts of thees “Spirit” texts in Acts, which have the marks of these Acts chapters (2, 4, 8, 10, 13, and 19), that are faithful to the text, and underscore the theological intent Luke wanted to pass on to the church long afterward . . . so, let us pray . . . Acts 2: The promised Spirit falls and gives birth to the church in the presence of witnesses from all the known nations, i.e., all the corners of the earth. Yes. Do this again: may the church rediscover the falling of the Spirit so that it in its local expressions it will bear witness to the nations. And, may the Spirit renew the church’s desire for apostolic teaching, fellowship, and concern for the poor—and for what it means to be gathered together as church. Acts 4: May the Spirit fall to shake us, the church, that we might learn to bear witness and boldly proclaim the gospel despite the nations raging. And may we, again, develop a concern for the poor, and as well hold all things in common as a witness to those that rage against us. Acts 8: May the Spirit fall on us in such away that we accept the Samaritans among us, those who are different, unclean, born of the “wrong” ethnicity, may the Spirit throw us out of our temples and into new hinterlands to proclaim and live out the gospel. Acts 10: May the Spirit fall on those whom we hate, our enemies, those who are among the “raging Gentiles,” so that we, the church, may rediscover the gospel is also for the “raging Gentiles.” Acts 13: Although very rarely it is included in the revival proof chapter lists, it should be: May the Spirit might fall on us so that missionaries would be called and set apart and sent to the unreached around the globe and to those who are among us even now, the unclean, dirty rotten Gentiles so that they may hear and have opportunities to respond to the good news of Jesus Christ; may the Spirit drive us out toward the hinterlands and the ends of the earth. Acts 19: Though not a falling of the Spirit part of the narrative, still may the Spirit move us toward unknown and unreached places and fill us in such a way to confront idolatry (even our own idolatries and the idolatries we kind of like having around so our identities as church can be maintained in this land). Hear our prayers. Amen!  At the end of my summer Bible college internship at my church, I had the privilege of giving a sermon at our evening Sunday service. Back then, most folks showed up, so it was a nice sized crowd who’d come to hear this rookie preacher-in-training. My text was 2 Chronicles 7:1-3, when the fire came down and filled the temple after King Solomon’s prayer. “As soon as Solomon finished his prayer, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices, and the glory of the LORD filled the temple. And the priests could not enter the house of the LORD, because the glory of the LORD filled the LORD'S house. When all the people of Israel saw the fire come down and the glory of the LORD on the temple, they bowed down with their faces to the ground on the pavement and worshiped and gave thanks to the LORD, saying, ‘For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.’” Now I certainly would preach this a little different now. Then I took a look at all the places God filled his temple. I think I did alright. But what happened at the end surprised me and I’ll remember it until heaven. I had asked for no closing hymn after sermon and my closing prayer, just a thank you and good night . . . I remember Olive simply played a song as I moved from the pulpit to the steps down from the platform . . . when I had gotten down the steps, I saw a long line of people streaming up front to the altar. More than half the congregation (about 100 folks) was down on their knees at or near the altar, with the rest simply not moving from where they sat. No one left the sanctuary. I had gathered with the elders in the back and we all were kind of stunned. My preaching was good, but not that good! Now if only all my church work and special guest preaching times throughout my years had similar effect. Hasn’t happened since. I have been in a number of church service settings with similar reactions to the sermon and/or simply the whole service. There were a few times at chapel or a “deeper life” with varying lengths of duration when I was a professor at Prairie Bible College in Three Hills, Alberta. I do believe in moments like these, when it seems God is doing something far beyond the normal come and go of a church (or a chapel) service. I have read and studied the big, historical movements and moments in our American church history. From Jonathan Edwards to Charlies Finney to Timothy Dwight, as well as such moments on Christian college and seminary campuses. So, I know that God is able to do beyond the normal at or after a service—sometimes we can explain why, most of the time it just happens and we can’t explain it. It just happens with varying after effects. So, I do not want to play down or diminish what God could be doing at Asbury right now; but, I do want to give some perspective that I am not hearing from our various Christians folks in-the-know about “revivals.”
These are what I am thinking right now.
I do hope new commitments are being made by these students and faculty. I do pray new missionary movements will be born. I do pray they will never ever be the same. And, I do hope many unsaved will be saved as a result. Yet in the age of the internet, I am also concerned that we’re making more of this “Asbury revival” than ought to be made of it, that somehow God is not at work where we are at, moving in mysterious ways, unnoticed by social media . . . yet He is still working.  It’s not what you think. I am not speaking about church folk being addicted to porn or anything like that. In fact, I am not writing here about sexually explicit porn. Nonetheless, to be frank, I am concerned about something less obvious, as harmful, maybe even more dangerous. Especially to the church. We seem to know the common definitions of the words “porn” or “pornography” as images of sensuousness, sexuality, and sex. Interestingly, there is a definition that puts porn/pornography on a whole deferent level beyond the easy to identify “sexual porn.” Merriam-Webster also defines “porn” as the “depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction.” Most immediately pivot to the sexual implications. However, while that can—as it should—definitely be understood to be the sexual nature most associated with porn/pornography, this definition makes it possible that more than sex can be in the arena of porn. In fact anything “emphasizing the sensuous or sensational aspects of even a nonsexual subject and stimulating a compulsive interest from their audience” is, well, porn. Here I’d like to focus our attention on what I will call “church porn.” I am borrowing from the so-called image-based sexual revolution that has been afoot since 1916, when ladies began displaying knee-high bathing suits above the ankles and men showed off their muscle-building on the beach to display their fit bodies for public consumption. (And you thought it was a sixties thing.) It’s taken decades, but the sexual revolution has created everyday habits and associations that form the way you and I think, literally about everything. As teenage boys (and sadly, girls, as well), by the time they are young adults, are exposed to thousands of hours of sexual imagery (explicit and soft and suggestive), mostly depicting that women are there to meet their needs and pleasure, the same is also true of those entering ministry. Here I am not just focused on sexual porn, but the porn of success, images of desire and expectations that have formed a whole narrative about the world and how it works. This has created sensational and, yes, sensuous feelings, expectations, and imaginations in those training for ministry, who will be praying and seeking for “a call,” and, as well, those simply picking a church and looking to meet his/her (or family) needs—informed and shaped needs created by those thousands of hours of exposure. As individuals seek “God’s will,” they have been, already, exposed to hours of imagery of what will meet one’s needs, bring success, and be affirmed by one’s felt peer group. These thousands of images have shaped the imagination of what that “call” or church should look like. This is the porn that is molding the expectations of both their choice of a church and “the call” one feels when looking for a pastoral call, a potential place of ministry (lay or pastoral), or simply “being led” to a choice of church to attend. This is a problem. A problem for the church. A problem for churches that don’t stimulate that compulsive interest that has been embedded into us, culturally, socially, or personally. This type of porn is not obvious, but it is ubiquitous. This type of porn is everywhere, in advertisement, in TV shows, movies, social media . . . heck, it is even used in advertising one’s church or church event. We are at a place where we should, as Supreme Court Potter Stewart said of obscenity itself in 1964, “I know it when I see it.” We know this cultural and social image-based porn is bombarding us. We should. But do we? Perhaps, somehow, we feel, as Christians, as mature Christians, we are above this ubiquitous sensual bombardment of cultural and social images and free to let God be God in our thinking, especially as it relates to church or a call to ministry. We are not. And, that’s a problem. This cultural and social porn is not even considered as a factor that plays a role in our decision-making process as we consider a call to ministry or what church to choose. Mostly, that call or that church has been chosen for us—we just don’t know it—of course, we’ll affirm we’ve been led by God in that choice. Yet, there is a good chance that God has not. Church porn has. In part 2, I will address how such church porn, the amassed thousands of embedded cultural and social images we are inundated with, molds what we think is God’s leading when it comes to “the call to ministry” or simply choosing a church to attend. In part 3, I will offer a counterstory as a path of recovery from addiction to church porn.
 While working on sermon prep on my text (Acts 4:1-31) for the weekend sermons (at the Saturday Sidewalk Church & Sunday service) a small part of the text hit me: “by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth” (Acts 4:10b). Back in my early years as a Christian, I spent hours memorizing Bible verses (and sometime paragraphs and even whole chapters). One of the first verses committed to memory was Acts 4:12: “And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.” Although I have studied the passage and preached on Acts 4 many times, it never occurred to me that the “no other name” is not simply “Jesus” but “Jesus Christ of Nazareth.” For, basically in one breath (short 2 verses), we learn that the man in the story was healed “by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth” and this is the name “given among men by which we must be saved.” Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Of course, “Christ” means Messiah, the anointed One, the long awaited promised One of Israel. The little preposition “of” (before Nazareth) has to be explained, defined. Probably because the following noun is a small village, it is fair to render Acts 4:10b, “by the name Jesus, the Messiah, from Nazareth.” “Jesus of . . . Nazareth” is more common than one realizes in the New Testament. Obviously, not the most common title, but still 17 or so times. In Acts, Luke uses it seven (7) times in relationship to Jesus (Acts 2:22; 3:6; 4:10; 6:14; 10:3, 8; 22:8; 26:9); and, once Jesus’ followers are referred to as “Nazarenes” (Acts 24:5). Identifying Jesus as being from Nazareth would not have been good PR, nor would it ingratiate the accusing crowd toward Peter and John. In other words, it didn’t help the situation at all. There would have been shame not honor in being from Nazareth. The significance of attaching “Nazareth” to Jesus’ name is further affirmed in the gathering of the Jerusalem aristocracy in the Acts 4 scene—“Annas the high priest and Caiaphas and John and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family” (4:6) verses Peter and John who “were uneducated, common men” (4:13b). Furthermore, let us not overlook this whole incident is the consequence of Peter and John healing a lame beggar (Acts 3:1-10). Note that this healing—the actual occasion in chapter 3—was “in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth” (3:6b), the very name under heaven by which we must be saved (4:12). The reference here to Jesus being from Nazareth and the power to heal and the gospel preached in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth is not incidental. It is central to the story—and to the word being spoken here. We should stop to consider what it meant to refer to Jesus as the Nazarene or from the village of Nazareth. Remember (we all remember) Nathanael’s words to Philip after he was told they had found the Messiah: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46). This alone gives the impression that Nazareth was not a big deal, more likely an inferior place, low socially. The bad side of town. Nazareth was a very small, insignificant Galilean village. So much so that one, more recent, writer put it, “God grew up in a forgotten town.” The fact that we know very little about Nazareth from ancient writers is telling, in that it was an uncelebrated, forgotten little village, “off the beaten path, even for Galilee.” Being called a “Nazarene” would have been a stigma that Jesus would carry his whole life and, literally, beyond. Yet, this is the only name under heaven—the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth—by which anyone can be saved. The gospel early on was attached to the two worst social aspects imaginable: the cross and where Jesus was from, namely an insignificant, small, lowly village in the dark Gentile land of Galilee, Nazareth. Naming Jesus from Nazareth would have been, not only geographically a faux pas, but a social blunder, something that would have discredited “the name.” And, thus the messengers. But it is the name we must be saved. No power in palace, privileged place, nor powerful earthly names. The gospel—right away—in the story is associated with a lack-luster, shameful, insignificant name. Luke’s story tells us immediately that the gospel was associated with the poor and insignificant. It was essential to the story. Luke made it so in the name. In the church world, this seems to be the opposite now. We announce there is another name by which we can be saved, one not necessarily associated or from Nazareth. But we must for there is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved, and that is the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. This spoke powerfully to those at the Saturday Sidewalk Breakfast & church and reminded our Sunday congregation of our mission and purpose in the Hill.
 Some sermon prep thoughts . . . the fuller text is Galatians 3:23-4:7 . . . and yes, this is a Christmas Season Sermon text . . . See Galatians 4:4. The part I am reflecting on is the well known Galatians 3:27-39: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to promise” (Galatians 3:27-29). I am not sure that we fathom how radically deconstructing these words would have been for the Greek, Roman, and Jewish man, especially male head of households, who were also masters of household slaves . . . nor can we (but we should) grasp the radical reconstruction and liberation these same exact words would have been to the Greek, Roman, and Jewish women and slaves and free (emancipated) slaves, who had no home or legal status whatsoever . . . interestingly we forget that Paul just mentioned sonship (“you are all sons of God, through faith,” v. 26) and will talk soon again about sonship and heirs (Gal 4:1-7), that is, being sons of God. I know we like to be modern and relevant and say “sons and daughters of God,” attempting to get past the so-called ancient gender-bias; but this is both unwarranted and does injustice to the text in its culture—depriving the Christian, especially the female Christian, of its impact. “Sons” were everything in the Greek, Roman, and Jewish world. They got everything. They had far more respect. They got citizenship. And if you were the first born male, an heir to family wealth, possessions, land, and legacy. The goal of marriage to the Greek and Roman was to produce a legitimate male heir citizen for the Empire. So, to deprive the female Christian direct title “son” with all of its rights and privileges (as it would have meant to the ancient world reader) would be simply not right, unfair, unbiblical . . . it is not Christian. The impact of such sonship on the Jew, the Greek, slave or emancipated slave is left with no contemporary translative spin—as it should be. Yet, our cultural sensitivity (although sincere and well-meaning at times) toward the gender-bias we have robs the sister in Christ of the applicable impact on her status as a “son of God.” And, for sure, this simple slight of hand turning “sons” into “sons and daughters” makes us (you know I mean, us brothers) feel as if we’ve (they’ve) solved all the gender-bias (male-dominating, male-centrism) within Christianity and its religious systems, habits, and attitudes with one easy “translation” fix. In some since, this translative adaption helps to lessen the power of this text to deconstruct our male-centeredness and robs the church from allowing the place of the female to be reconstructed into the place of a “son of God.” It is no wonder the early church grew as it did . . . and it is no wonder why women were especially attracted to the fulness of time when God sent his son, “born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal 4:4).
 “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as one receives a homeless person will never enter it.” Here are some streams of thought that sprung from my sermon prep on Luke 18:15-30 (which is posted fully at the end). For now, this passage is two stories that are most definitely linked together: Infants and children being brought to Jesus for a blessing, being told that the kingdom of God belongs to them, and a rich young ruler who asks how he may obtain eternal life. Additionally, the previous Wasted Blog post is a part of this stream of sermon prep thought: A blunt text, rationalizing, and a confession: a brief reflection on Luke 18:22. There is little doubt that this is about the gospel and the poor: who are we?The wider section of Luke 14-18 that we have been journeying through during the Saturday Sidewalk Sermons and Sunday morning sermons reveals whom we are to seek and welcome to the Table of God‘s Kingdom--that is, whom are to be invited to salvation in Christ, that is eternal life. There is little doubt, the invitation is for the least among us . . . don’t get me wrong, of course, the wealthy and well-off and those who have the privilege and blessings of this age’s systems and structures are invited to come sit with them (it seems this is the Gospel process). In our current passage (Luke 18:15-30), the young rich ruler is instructed to give his wealth to the poor . . . two things to be noted here: 1) for those that didn’t catch this earlier on my facebook feed, this principle was understood by both Jesus and his disciples as a principle to be followed broadly by the rich if they were to be followers of Jesus; and 2) this was what Jesus was modeling--something this young rich ruler could not, in the end, imagine doing, for he walked, sadly, away from Jesus’ gracious invitation to enter the kingdom of God. Perhaps on this Day of giving thanks, we can find a way to give away what we have to the least among us. Most of us will give thanks around a Thanksgiving table for the bounty God has given to us--often accompanied by a comparison to those who have little or nothing (“Lord, we thank you for what we have, for we know that so many are not as fortunate,” et al.) . . . this is more in line with the Pharisee in the preceding parable, who compared himself to others. The parallel in the Luke 6 Beatitude: The kingdom of God belongs to the poorA thought from my sermon text, Luke 18:15-30: the reference to the kingdom of God belonging to the children means these two stories are a poor vs. the rich contrast and we should suspect that deconstruction, a reversal, is afoot: V. 16: But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God” (ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ). Note the parallel: Luke has already told us back in chapter 6 that “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. 6:20). And surprise, surprise, the very next thing is a scene of a rich young ruler wanting eternal life (i.e., entering the kingdom of God), who is then told to give to the poor, and walks away from (eternal life!) “because he was wealthy.” Recall how Luke presents the Kingdom Beatitudes back in chapter 6 . . . he parallels the poor/kingdom (6:20) with “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (6:24). I’ll leave it right here . . . Love God, Love Your NeighborLuke 18:16 (just a verse from my whole text, Luke 18:15-30): “But Jesus called them to him, saying, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.’” When the rich young ruler had heard Jesus say that the kingdom of God belonged to incomplete adults, those not fully human, that is children, this begged a question pertinent to his station and social status (which was good because he was wealthy, which meant he had a name that counts and a status that allowed all the privileges and, of course, he was a grown male which made him fully human). That question was, “Good Teacher, then how do I inherit eternal life*?” He obviously knows how to inherit riches: be born in a legacy family and be a grown male—this is the Rome-way. It is not Jesus’ way . . . this is what concerns that rich young ruler. As it should. As it should also concern us. While Jesus is far more than a mere Teacher as the rich young ruler had addressed him, he picks up on the word “Good” to help the young rich ruler grasp he is asking a first-commandment question—God is the only good, so remember, Love the Lord Your God first—but in the next breath Jesus directs the wealthy ruler to the second--which is like the first (cf. Matthew 22:39)—command, namely to Love Your Neighbor. Thus, give-God-all-you-got is to be met with selling-all-you-got-and-giving-it-to-the-poor, these are the twin sides of inheriting—not earthy riches, that’s easy, just be born with a name and have the right address—of inheriting eternal life. Not sure we’ve actually come to grips with this side of the gospel . . . it’s there, right in our text for Sunday morning (Luke 18:15-30). *The kingdom of God, eternal life, and being saved are all interchanging terms and concepts in Luke. An ellipsis: whoever models Jesus gets to enter into the kingdom of GodI grant the last of this thread is far more application than exegesis (but it’s that, too), yet it is an application that is a faithful reading and dynamic equivalent [you’ll see I do some translating here] to Luke’s and Jesus’ narrative intent (and of the Greek) found in Luke 18:15-30, specifically, verses 16-17: “But Jesus called them to him, saying, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it’” (ESV). There are a number of things that are before us in the text, for they would have been before both the original audience of disciples and Pharisees, and, as well, those to whom the Gospel was written, namely Theophilus’ church community: 1) As already mentioned, infants and children would have been considered not fully human, incomplete adults, one the lower tiers of human hierarchy, both in the Jewish and the Greco-Roman world; 2) Children/infants simply would not have been presented, especially in public, to any Rabbi (and I note that Jesus is referred to by the rich young ruler as Teacher, aka a rabbi); 3) There would be ritual impurity amid the presentation of the infants that would have been improper for Jewish Rabbis, but obviously Jesus is impervious; and 4) Finally, there is an ellipsis in verse 17 that needs to be understood. Allow for an explanation of the ellipsis before moving on to my application (which reveals the intent of Jesus and Luke here): a grammatical ellipsis, whether written or spoken, is when some words are missing yet assumed, offering some balance to the thought or sentence that is implied by the author and supplied by the hearer/reader. Examples: “John saw two hawks in the sky, and Bill saw three” and “Amanda is managing the restaurant Thursday, and Joseph is Friday.” The second example is like our Luke 18:17 ellipsis, in that the verb “manage” is left out but is clearly intended. The ellipsis in Luke 18:17 is the verb “receive.” The ellipsis is masked by the English word “like” (i.e., “like a child”). The word “like” implies to the English reader that it is the children we should be like. However, the ellipsis being crafted here is to imply that it is the “receiving” that we are to be like. Here’s my translation so you can here and see how the ellipsis works:
The “infants” and “children” are not coming or receiving Jesus in this story. They are not coming to Jesus because of something about them--we infer this, but it is not there in the text and the social/cultural location suggests otherwise. And, it is the parents who are bringing them to Jesus and Jesus is receiving them. Thus, the set up for the intended ellipsis. We should make a narrative link to what Jesus is doing. This is exactly what Jesus is modeling, “receiving children.” He is not receiving children as a child or like a child would--that’s our hallmark-card spin on it--but Jesus is doing the receiving, the welcoming of the children. This reading of the text, and hearing the cultural view of humans that is at play, allows us to apply this warning concerning the unavailability of the kingdom to those who do not welcome/receive children because Jesus has reversed the poles in His kingdom. Now, if we read--as we should--the other aspects before us in this text, namely infants/children would have disturbed the piety of a rabbi (i.e., the clean vs unclean) and the view that receiving them counters the tiered humanity prevalent at that time . . . it would be fair to render this verse: “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as one receives a homeless person will never enter it.” Of course, you can change “homeless” to be anyone whom you believe is less than human or unclean . . . and not only believe, but live in such a way that your modeling is nothing like Jesus’ model . . . and the danger? You will not enter the kingdom of heaven. This is affirmed by the next story of the rich young ruler choosing not to model Jesus and turns away from the kingdom. Luke 18:15-30 (ESV)
 This is both blunt and transparent . . . Luke 18:22, a verse in this Sunday's Sermon text . . . “When Jesus heard this, he said to him, ‘One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.’”
In a few seconds, after the rich ruler walks away “sadly,” Jesus then says: “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” There is no doubt this is to be applied rather broadly and not to be rationalize, “Well, this was to one person and God doesn't call every rich person to do this,” for the disciples understood it to apply to all rich people, “then who can be saved then?” Those who typically have the authority to interpret texts like this one are from among those with elevated status in the social structures, i.e., those who rule and have wealth—you can see the conflict of interest here. I do. I feel that conflict myself. I am not exempt from “spiritualizing” or looking for exemptions for this text. We all scramble to exempt ourselves, somehow, from this--no matter the size of our paycheck and bank accounts. Me, too. I have always been rather plagued by this text. But after 40+ years of following Jesus (and this is a “follow Me” text, cf. 18:22d), I wonder if we are so attached to this world—as the Rich Mullins song says, the stuff of earth competes for our allegiance—that we are not free to actually follow Jesus in the way the Gospels teach us? I confess, this week’s sermon text rattles me. And more so because it’s a feast week! Thanksgiving. And it’s cold out. There are homeless surrounding me. And I live amid scarcity.  While the Pharisees and scribes grumbled that Jesus was receiving tax collectors and the marginal, the uneducated, outcasts living in “the streets and lanes of the city,” and “the poor and crippled and blind and lame” (14:21), and eating with them, Jesus asked them a question:
The question sets up an expected answer: “No, no-one would do that!” Such a decision puts the 99 at risk (stop thinking Jesus means for us to assume the shepherd left the 99 well attended—that would spoil the story all together—no sure we are to assume nor fill in the blanks). Simply we have, you see,“Lost sheep happen.” Still, the angle Jesus shoots for is dangerously shocking: this rather well-off Shepherd (having 100 sheep would have indicated he leaned toward being a more wealthy Shepherd) goes and seeks his lost sheep, carries it home, and everyone rejoices. This is the counter to the grumbling of the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus was welcoming and eating with the likes of those strays from Galilee and the marginal he has been picking up while on his way to Jerusalem. While it is good to see the Shepherd as a picture of Jesus, this leaves the listener/reader with nothing to do but contemplate how much Jesus loves him. A good thing and important (sure), but that’s not Luke’s point. This is a counter to the Pharisees and scribes, which should indicate what we have here is a counter-intuitive correction to the church’s proclivity toward doing exactly what the Pharisees and scribes were doing: neglecting the poor and marginal, whether it be to affirm the cultural and social tiered-hierarchies (both church and outside the church) and/or to not be so unwelcoming of such among them as a church and/or creating and maintaining institutional systems that affirms and sustains the haves/have-nots at church (cf. the problem in James). This is exactly what the previous Banquet parable was about in Luke 14. Additionally, the interlude on discipleship just prior (14:25-33) instructs us that discipleship is following Jesus, and thus we have our marching orders here in this (and the next two) parables of Luke 15.
 “One Sabbath, when he went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully. And behold, there was a man before him who had dropsy. And Jesus responded to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” But they remained silent. Then he took him and healed him and sent him away” (Luke 14:1-4). I take it that Jesus could have engaged from a range of folks who surrounded this supper meal with a few different types of maladies needing to be healed. This man with “dropsy” was not a part of the table fellowship, that is one of the invited guests at the Pharisee’s supper party. This man with “dropsy” most likely was from the crowd of folks who would have been outside watching the supper party, for Jesus “took him and healed him,” then “sent him away.” Remember such meals would have been semi-public in that people would have shown up, outside, to see who was there, who sat where and next to whom. This was common in those days. Again, these meals functioned in Jesus’ world to establish the “in-group” and to set boundaries, and as well, in the Jewish world to inform and embody (and enforce) the religious values of ceremonial purity. This man with “dropsy,” whom Jesus most likely pulled in from the surrounding on-lookers (cf. Luke, after all, does tell us Jesus “took him”). This would have violated the purity laws for sure, especially in a ruling Pharisee’s home! Additionally, the table-etiquette would have also been to demonstrate and enforce who the ”wrong people” were. This man was "wrong people"! Gentile and Jewish meals were occasions to to “advertise and reinforce social hierarchy.” The choice to heal a man with “dropsy” was a surgical strike. I am sure the man had the sickness known as dropsy and was healed, but there was an ulterior lesson to happen among the invited guests and host in the instruction to be given by Jesus to those reclined at that table. The disease of dropsy causes someone to thirst, actually to have an unquenchable thirst, even to the point of dying because of drinking too much water. Thus, there was an association with the “thirst” for money or status, often referred to as “dropsy.” In the ancient Greco-Roman world writers would refer to the insatiable nature of greed as “dropsy,” for as with other desires that could be satisfied, no matter how much a greedy person acquires, it would never be enough--in terms of wealth and social status. So, the healing of the man with dropsy was parabolic of the host, the honored guest (or guests), and others seated around that table. This healing on the Sabbath of a man with dropsy exposed that those who reclined at that table also had a disorder, a malady, that was no less self-detrimental. Jesus’ two parables at this supper table affirm this: First, the parable of the wedding feast is about seeking honor and establishing one’s status and place among others (14:7-11). The second parable was about a great banquet feast (vv. 12-24) that would have exposed the motives for invitations to such a table, namely there would be a good return, a payback, an invite to their own parties, a status affirmed. However, they were to invite the poor and powerless that cannot repay them or give them some advantage of association. Interestingly, immediately following this event at the ruling Pharisee’s supper party, there is an interlude concerning the cost of discipleship (14:25-33), namely that following Jesus puts one at odds with the established honor system of friends and family and work associates. Not only do these parables at the Pharisee’s supper table expose hearts of greed (aka, hearts of dropsy), they also instruct us—the reader/listener—that we, as follower of this Jesus, are not to seek our own honor or bid attention for leverage in our social groups, and that; thus, with such platforms we are to invite and associate with those who cannot pay us back or build up any honor or social leverage. The Pharisees reclined at that table exploited hospitality for their self-serving agenda and used this acceptable form of hospitality “to secure their positions of dominance in their communities and insulate them from the needy.” Yet, Jesus was acting in such a way to indicate that the transformation of the world had already begun. This would speak to the church community, the listeners and readers of Luke’s Gospel of the importance of the new age re-socialization (i.e., the deconstruction of current social norms and the reconstruction) of God’s new community. Which does your church and Christian life depict? The table of those with social-cultural dropsy, where the patterns, platforms, and powers play out for higher honor, advantage and leverage, and social affirmation; or, the table, the new community of God, that deconstructs social and cultural associations designed to lift your esteem and status and demonstrates that the kingdom of God, the redeemed transformation, has begun? Church should demonstrate the new age of God’s kingdom has begun. But perhaps our hearts need to be healed of dropsy. Whom do you associate with? Whom does your church intentionally associate with? Whom do you invite to your tables?
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AuthorChip M. Anderson, advocate for biblical social action; pastor of an urban church plant in the Hill neighborhood of New Haven, CT; husband, father, author, former Greek & NT professor; and, 19 years involved with social action. Archives
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