Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri

Morning Worship · October 18, 2009

  Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Litany of Praise and Invocation

From Psalm 104  

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

   God is clothed in majesty,

   wrapped in light like a garment.

God stretches out the heavens like a tent,

spreading beams of energy over the waters.

   Let clouds become chariots

   and wind the wings of the Spirit!

Let us pray:

   By the streams of the earth

   you water every living thing

   and by the streams of your love

   our hearts are bathed in your eternal presence.  Amen.

New Testament Lesson

Mark 10:35-45

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left hand is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wished to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

Message

Downward Mobility

Tim Carson

You can’t really begin to understand the story we’ve just heard read from Mark without first hearing what led up to it.  Timing is everything, and Mark knows it, which is why what we first hear is that Jesus is traveling with the disciples toward, of all places, Jerusalem, the city that stones the prophets.  As they walk, he talks about what seems inevitable if he continues – a death march, the pouring out of his life for the cause, giving it all over for the sake of his absolute compulsion to proclaim God’s kingdom, even if it kills him.  And it will.

Now enter the disciples James and John, sons of Zebedee, part of the inner circle that has been around from the beginning.  They’ve been around so long; you would think they would start to get it, but no.  For some reason they seem dumber and more self-centered than when they began.  This holds out a glimmer of hope for the rest of us, of course, as we tend to slide back, over and over, to where we’ve been rather to where we should be going; back into our old self rather than rising to the new one.  James and John are like the worst of that tendency on steroids.

You see; Jesus is talking about the inevitable price he will pay for being faithful to his prophetic call, and they pull him aside just like he had been talking about the baseball game.  By the way, Jesus, when the day comes that you’re all decked out in your messianic splendor ruling like you should, could we, if it’s alright with you, sit in the places of honor at your right and your left?

I’ve always wondered about the expression on Jesus’ face at this point.  It must have been some combination of, “They can’t be serious,” “Can they possibly be so dense?” and “Is there no limit to human self-centeredness?”

Especially now, we understand how easy it is to lean toward the grandiose, toward narcissism.  When you get to the point that anybody’s silly life drama is thought interesting enough to justify a reality show about it, you know we’re in trouble.  How much more do we need to gawk in the mirror at ourselves?

A friend just told me about a certain coach who was observing one of his players making the sign of the cross on himself before making a free-throw and the coach shouted out from the bench: “God doesn’t give a *$&!  whether you make that free-throw or not!” But we somehow believe that our free throw should be the center of the divine attention.

We continue to suffer under the delusion that we’re the center of the world.  It’s not a new delusion.  Jesus is looking right at it in the faces of his disciples.  “Hey, when the time’s right, could you put us in the places of glory, right there where God and everybody can notice?”

When you think about it, most of the prosperity gospel movement – this religious side show that convinces people that God is a cosmic Santa Claus waiting to lavish the true believers with gifts, that prayer is like putting our nickel into the God machine, turning the crank and getting what we want – is a reflection of this narcissism, this radical self-preoccupation.  You’ll never hear this story from Mark in any of those gatherings, because it would be such a wet blanket.  It would empty their stadiums like a slow leak in a balloon, just like it slowly and surely shrank the number of people following Jesus as he made his way toward Jerusalem.  If you want to hurt your church growth plans, just start talking like Jesus talks, about how folks need to take up their crosses and follow him (Mark 8:34).

In fact, that’s what he said to his disciples next: “Excuse me, but you have no idea what you’re asking.  Are you willing to drink the cup I’m about to drink, to receive the baptism I’m about to receive?”

They say sure, of course, we’re in; we can go the distance.  But of course they can’t and don’t, not now.  Later you will, he says, looking up around a corner they can’t see.  Do you know the next time that the phrase, “right hand and left” is used in Mark’s gospel?  It’s when there are two crucified beside him, one on his right hand and left (Mark 15:27).

What all this is leading us to is a fundamental distinction that Mark simply won’t let us miss and that is the difference between the love of power and the power of love.

Religious experience can be and has been used as a kind of authorizing force to keep, protect, and wield power.  It also can be a powerful force of personal and collective transformation, surrender to the highest impulses of devotion and service known to the world.  Like everything, religious power is used and misused.  Religion can be healthy, and it can be sick.  It can tear down and build up.  It can hurt, and it can heal.

I’ve recently been rereading some of the history surrounding the Spanish Inquisition.  The horrors committed in the name of Christ are beyond comprehension.  And if you were to take this as the only expression of the Christian faith in the world, I think the only conclusion a person could come to would be that the world would be far better without Christians than with them.  I saw a t-shirt not too long ago and it read, “Jesus, save me from your followers.”

Thank God that the Inquisition and other atrocities committed under the banner of religious faith do not tell the whole story, but are rather heinous distortions of what was meant to be.

At issue is this difference between the love of power and the power of love and how Jesus challenges us to turn that corner.  It is not an easy corner to turn, either socially or personally.  The desire for control and the will to power are so very seductive.  And yet, says and shows Jesus, the way to a spirit-led, faith-enfolded life is by surrendering one’s power to the greater power of love.

Think about it this way: Everyone, by virtue of being alive in the world, has some measure of personal power.  It’s not a bad thing in and of itself; it just is.  If we become preoccupied with acquiring power or wielding it, then it starts to work in opposition to the love-driven life in which our power is surrendered to the power of love.

You say you have no power?  I beg to differ.  In fact, the smallest creatures in the world often have the greatest.

Do you know what is capable of exercising some of the greatest tyranny in the world?  One mosquito in a darkened room.  Now that’s power, the power to drive us to distraction.  I’ve never slapped myself as hard in the face as when I was attempting to respond to that lone tyrant.

 And who has the most power in a quiet gathering where silence is golden?  Well, the crying baby, of course.  That baby, for a time, rules the roost.  And everything will be provided to that one child as soon as possible in order to satisfy its needs.  The most powerless one in the room, we assume, has the most power.

We all have power, every one of us.  The question – on a spiritual level – is what we are going to do with it.  The disciples were confused about that.  They thought that their proximity to Jesus somehow gave them privilege to have more of what the world lusts after all the time – more rank, privilege, and station.  Let us sit at your right and left hands, in the places of honor.

When Jesus was talking to his other disciples, the ones who were irate that James and John would be so arrogant to presume some superior place, he told them that for the rest of the world, (what he lumped together as the “Gentiles”) those with power lord it over others and it’s expected.  But it’s not to be that way with you, he said.  For you, the one who wishes to be the greatest should be the greatest servant.  The one who wishes to be number one should be number one in serving.  The Son of Man didn’t come to be served, but to pour himself out in love.

A theologian by the name of Paul Tillich once wrote a book entitled, Love, Power, and Justice (Oxford University Press).  In this slender little volume, he brought together three enormous ideas and connected the way that they operate together.  Love, he said, has the potential to transform Power into Justice.  Power without love can easily become tyranny.  Love without power is often impotent; it stands by feeling things without the ability to act them.  Justice comes as a result of the tempering of power with love.  And whenever more than two people are in the room, love has to be translated into justice.  Justice is the physical manifestation of love.

So the question for you and me, for the disciples of Jesus, is this: What are you doing with your power?  And what are you doing with your love?  Are you allowing your power to be shaped by love – the love of God, your love for God, love of neighbor?  What are you doing with your power, and what are you doing with your love?

And the most important question for people of faith: Are you putting your power at the disposal of God?  That’s another way of asking, “Are you picking up your cross and following?”

When I was in high school, I was at my home church in Springfield on a Sunday morning, and I wandered into the sanctuary before the worship service.  There, arranging the flowers as ever, was Frieda Fielder.  Frieda was up in years, and to a youth she seemed ancient.  Among many other things in church like teaching Sunday School, and baking a gazillion apple pies for the annual pie sale, Frieda was the flower woman.  By that, I mean she grew them in her garden and then cut fresh flowers to bring to church every Sunday – and I mean every Sunday.  She was a fixture in the church, and I can scarcely remember a Sunday without her there doing exactly that.

During college, I worked evenings as the night custodian, and when college was over and I was seminary bound, here came Frieda with two shopping bags. She plunked them down on the church office desk and said, “These are going to help you now more than they will me.”  It was the entire set of the Interpreters Bible Commentary.  I remember finding her notes written in the margins as interesting as the commentary itself.

Well, that Sunday morning, this brash young man wandered up to Mrs. Fielder and, seeking to flatter her, said, “Mrs. Fielder, I can’t remember such pretty flowers anywhere.”  She stood up, turned around, and said rather curtly, “The Lord knows my heart!”  End of conversation.

You see, in the Christian community, the church is the curriculum and we are all teachers and learners.  I didn’t know it at the time, but she had just given me Servant Ministry 101, courtesy of Frieda Fielder: You are to offer the best to the Master without thought of reward or recognition.

Are you putting your power at the disposal of God?  Or are you doing what the disciples were doing and asking whether you would sit at the right hand or left hand?

The Son of Man came to serve and to pour out his life for many.  The highest aspiration and calling for those who would dare to follow him is to figure out what cup they need to drink and what baptism they need to receive for his sake.  If you will, the way may not be easy but it will be joyful.  This is the essence of servant ministry.

“Come unto me all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

It is in putting on the yoke of Christ that we find our perfect freedom, as his yoke of grace replaces the many yokes of our many cruel masters. You know how many there are. When we take that yoke of Christ upon our shoulders, it unseats our love of power and replaces it with the power of love.

Can you drink the cup that I drink?

Every drop. Every drop.

Let us pray.

Now by your tender mercies on the road by the yoke that is not a burden, but is rest, by a future we do not know, but which belongs to you, we give you our highest praise, for we glorify you in all that we do, through Christ, who was the perfect servant and gave his life for many. In his name we pray, Amen.

Benediction

And now may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, the fellowship and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.