World's Tallest Abuse of Jesus' Name for Tourism

This is not an icon, it is not a devotional or spiritual exercise, as misguided as that would be. It is a $1.5 million waste of money!!

I saw this on Yahoo news a while back and have been meaning to write a post on it ever since. A statue of Jesus is all well and good, but a 167-foot tall statue is pushing things a bit too far.

A reporter in Warsaw commented that, "The project has split society in Poland, with supporters saying the statue will attract pilgrims to the city, and opponents insisting that the collosal monument has nothing to do with the teachings of Jesus Christ."

Local authorities only seem to be concerned with the amount of tourism this statue will attract. Really??? Is this what Christianity has come to? But, some will say, it could be used as an evangelistic tool. While I believe that is dubious at best, it remains a possibility, but potential evangelism will probably occur in spite of the statue, not because of it. It simply screams, "Look at what I did!!" on behalf of the community that created it. They made sure it was the biggest in the world, and the $1.5 million and 5 years that it took to build it could have been used for actual Christ-centered ministry!!

I'll get off my soapbox now.

Was It Worth It? A Sermon on Mt. 11:2-11

The scriptures say, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.” Really? Just how does that work again?

Do you ever have doubts? Do you ever wonder what its all about? What’s the use? Why bother? When I was in my last year of seminary, a dear friend of mine, Tony - a dear friend of all of ours - died very suddenly from lung cancer, which had only been diagnosed four days earlier. Ironically, I found myself in Pastoral Care class that day, and the professor sat us all in a circle and sort of burst out, saying, “If I didn’t believe in the resurrection, I would just pack up my bags and go home right now.”

So much for professional detachment, I guess, but her words spoke more than what she actually intended to say. She doubted. Just like Job doubted when his life fell apart, just like we all doubt when one bad thing after another falls on top of us. Is there really a God out there watching out for me?

John the Baptist’s question was no less of a doubt than that. The same John, who cried out to the people who had come to be baptized by him in the River Jordan, “I baptize you with water, but there is one coming who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

I don’t know about you, but I always picture Billy Graham when I read things that John the Baptist says. John boldly preached the coming Messiah. He went out into the wilderness and did all his weird and crazy things because he knew that only a radical life would attract the attention of the people, which is what Jesus did as well.

This same John the Baptist, who reminds me of Billy Graham, is now in prison, awaiting his own execution for crimes of heresy committed against the Jewish culture. While he’s there, he manages to get a message out to Jesus, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”

I stood up for you, Jesus; I took a fall for you, and now I want to know that it was all worth it. You really are the Messiah, right? This wasn’t all for nothing? I’m not going to be put to death by my enemies for nothing?

You know, I looked through my files the other day to see if I had ever preached on this passage before. As it turns out, I have not, and I think I know why. This is not an easy question to ask, or to admit to asking. To admit that we have doubts is one thing, but to bare our vulnerability to one another is extremely uncomfortable.

John was desperate. According to Israel’s understanding, the coming Messiah was supposed to be a fierce warrior who would cleanse the land and drive out the infidel Romans. Jesus didn’t seem to be doing that. In fact, it appears, upon my own reading of the gospels, that John is more evangelical than Jesus - at least in the early days.

“Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”

What are we waiting for, this Advent, this Christmas? What are we expecting? Who do we want in Jesus Christ? And how will we react when Jesus doesn’t live up to our expectations? It’s a terrible thing when someone has to die three months before they graduate from seminary, after struggling to overcome chronic depression, after working so hard to achieve a goal that, as Tony believed, God himself called him to?

The year before I entered the seminary, another tragedy struck, which shook everyone to their core. I only met the fellow once, but he was one that everyone respected, everyone turned to and thought very highly of. One day, however, he sent his family back to Dubuque ahead of him from the church where he preached on Sundays, a couple of hours away. Later that afternoon, a ruptured gas line ignited in the basement of that house that completely blew it apart. There was almost no doubt about it - he committed suicide in that parsonage.

Doubt can lead to despair, and despair can lead us to make some powerfully unfortunate decisions. I don’t know what was going on in this person’s life, but all was not well with his soul.

I sense a little of this desperation in John’s plea to Christ: “Are you the one who was to come?” He’s at the end of his life, and he knows it. But Jesus does not answer him directly. Instead he says to John’s disciples, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor.”

In a very gentle, positive way, Jesus is saying to him, “Take a look around you. What do you see? There are signs everywhere pointing to the work that I am doing among the people, work that give the people hope.”

Now hope is what Advent is all about. Expectation is what it is all about. But what is it that we hope for? What do we expect? If we expect Jesus to make all of our dreams come true, then we are looking to the wrong Messiah. Jesus didn’t come here to save our bank accounts, he came to save our souls.

When my friend Tony died, I wasn’t able to see him, it happened so quickly. But when I met with him before he went into the hospital, I knew that he had found what he was hoping for. Tony didn’t have to ask John the Baptist’s question, because the Messiah that he knew and loved was one who had given him hope, and courage, and love. Great miracles had happened in Tony’s life and Tony recognized them for what they were, signs of Jesus Christ.

Life gets tough sometimes, and at those times we can feel so alone, so vulnerable. But we are not alone, not ever, and Christ remains with us to strengthen us in our vulnerabilities. “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor. 12:9),” says the Lord.

John needed to know that he was not alone, and Jesus responded to that need with compassion and understanding, but also with truth. Sometimes we need a change of attitude, and at some of those times we need others to help us to change our attitude. But sometimes that’s all we need to be able to regain that sense of hope and expectancy that we had somehow lost ahold of.

Our lives are full of bad things, evil things happen to us everyday. But our lives are full of good things too. They are filled with the signs of the presence of God.

Jesus then turns to the crowd surrounding him and returns questions with questions. “What did you go out into the wilderness to look for? What was it about the life that you were leading that was so inadequate that it drove you out into the wilderness to look for something else? What was that something else that you were looking for? Did you find it?”

The thing about Jesus is that he is not what we expect. Jesus is not what we are looking for. Jesus is not even what we want. He is what we need. He is here for us, and he is also coming for us. Amen.

Let Us Give Thanks - Lk. 17.11-19

One of my favorite Bible commentators, William Barclay, summed up this passage with this very sobering thought:

“There is no story in all the gospels which so poignantly shows man’s ingratitude.”
Our gospel story this evening is, according to the section heading in the pew bibles, about Jesus cleansing ten men who had leprosy. But that’s not necessarily what this story is about, it simply happens to be the context in which the events of this story unfold.

One day, Jesus is traveling along the border between Galilee and Samaria. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, and according to Luke’s gospel this will be his very last trip to Jerusalem. So anyway, he’s passing by the border of Samaria, when ten men approach him. The text says that these men had leprosy, so, according to tradition, they didn’t come too near to Jesus.

The Book of Leviticus states that any person afflicted with leprosy must live alone, apart from the rest of the community of Israel. They must wear torn clothing, let their hair be unkempt, cover the lower part of their faces, and cry out to any who comes near, “UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN!” Scripture doesn’t actually state how far off they must stand, but tradition holds that if the wind is blowing from the leper’s position in the direction of healthy people, then the leper should stand at least 50 yards away, as a courtesy to the healthy people, so as to not put them at risk of becoming unclean.

Wow, could they possibly think of any more ways to alienate these people? I just don’t think they feel unwanted enough.

Now, the irony of leprosy, is that it was never actually fatal, in and of itself, and it is only contagious after close, prolonged contact. Apparently as much as 95% of people have a natural immunity to the disease. They don’t even call it leprosy any longer, its’ Hansen’s Disease.
However, in biblical times, there was no greater sign of being cast out of God’s presence than that of leprosy. In a culture that had very strict rules about ritual cleanliness as a prerequisite to come before God’s presence, lepers were, by definition, excluded. They were a stain on Israelite society, an embarrassment to God’s chosen people.

So here is Jesus, confronted with these ten men who obviously bear this despised mark of God’s disfavor upon themselves. “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” they cry out to him. Well, that’s certainly unexpected. What will Jesus do? What should any self-respecting Jewish rabbi do in that situation? Duh!! He healed them.

“Go, show yourselves to the priests,” the text says, and as they went they were cleansed.
What a miracle that was! I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be in their shoes, or sandals, or whatever it was that they wore. These are simply social outcasts, these are national outcasts. They have no part in Hebrew society. No one even considered treatment for their condition, and there are many ways to treat leprosy. They were in exile in their own land, unloved, unwanted, cursed by God...and that probably doesn’t even do justice to the way they felt about themselves. I believe that there is very little in our society today that could compare to the horrors of living with leprosy in Israel in biblical times.

But to be suddenly healed of all that, to have it taken away simply by a word of kindness. These men had obviously heard of Jesus, they must have known of his reputation for healing, or else they wouldn’t have called out to him that way. But did they know what to expect? Did they, could they, truly expect anything to happen? One of them, I think, did.

All ten of the lepers were cleansed, but only one returned. He praised God in a loud voice and threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. What a gift they had been given - yet the only one who returned to express his thanks wasn’t even a Jew.

“So often,” says William Barclay, “once a man has got what he wants, he never comes back.”
“Were not all cleansed?” asked Jesus, “Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except for this foreigner?” Jews and Samaritans didn’t even like each other, but the Jews of that crowd expressed no gratitude, no joy in the unbelievably tremendous gift that they had just been handed.

You know what’s funny, I was watching a baseball game one day, and this guy hit a home run, and they showed him making the sign of the cross and looking up to heaven. Obviously he was thanking God, and I thought, Oh, isn’t that neat that they’re showing this on television. But then it kind of hit me, that if that same man had struck out instead, I wonder if he would have said, “God...” (you can figure out the rest of that on your own).

We pray to God, asking him for help when we have some need, but how often do we thank God for the everyday blessings that we enjoy? And what do you suppose happens to us, over time, when we habitually forget to thank and praise God every day for His many gifts to us.
So what are you thankful for?

There is a liturgical prayer, called the General Prayer of Thanksgiving. It’s a clever title, I know, but it is a prayer for all seasons, a prayer that encompasses all of life; it’s a prayer that should always be on our lips, and close to our hearts, so let us pray:

Almighty God, Father of all mercies, we, your unworthy servants, give you most humble and hearty thanks for all your goodness and loving kindness to us and to all people.
We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ, for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.

Give us, we pray, such a sense of all your mercies, that, with truly thankful hearts, we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to your service, and by walking before you in holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be all honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.