Pause

Luke 5:12-16

August 25, 2012 • PF Hope

Sometimes, you just have to get away. In the summer of 1989, Cathy and I worked in the inner city of Chicago, on the west side, in the Austin community. And it was hard work, seeking to share the love of Christ with people who didn’t really care a lot of the time. We worked with a day camp, and most of the parents didn’t care where their kids were, as long as they didn’t have to worry about them. But we pushed on, and in many ways shared Jesus’ love with those kids, believing that if the kids came to know Jesus, they’d bring their parents to the church as well. So there was the daily work, and there were also the pressures that built up among the team. There were ten of us living in a four-room apartment—three men, seven women, and the only air conditioning in the apartment was in the girls’ dorm room. The men made do with fans during one of the hottest summers on record (perhaps until this year). And one day, I’d had enough. I didn’t realize it until some of my supplies came up missing and, really for no good reason, I lost it. I went off on the person who took my supplies, and then I stormed out of the building, got in my car and started driving. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just headed west. And once I had run out of steam, I stopped, bought a candy bar, and drove back. Sometimes you just need to get away. Sometimes you just need to have a bit of a rest in order to begin again. Sometimes you need a pause.

Of course, from the beginning, we’re told we need those breaks. We don’t listen well, especially today when our culture insists we have to work 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. I mean, really, does anyone seriously NEED to shop at Wal-Mart at 3:00 a.m.? And yet, they’re open. To have a grocery store or a restaurant closed on Sunday seems odd to us. But we were not meant to live that way. Enshrined in the Ten Commandments, God’s basic instructions for life, is this command: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord. On it you shall not do any work” (Exodus 20:9-10). Sabbath is another word for “pause.” Stop. Cease. Don’t do any work. Allow your body and your soul to rest. Humans were made for a rhythm of six days of work and one day of rest, but we, of course, have done God one better. We now work seven days and often feel guilty if we rest, if we pause. Soldier on, keep going, don’t stop—that’s the message we get from our culture, and sometimes from each other.

And yet Jesus, the Son of God, didn’t live like we do. Jesus, who only had about three years to accomplish the ministry he came to do, took the command to rest seriously. We see that in the Gospel passage we read this evening. It’s a busy time in his ministry. He’s just called his first disciples to follow him, and now he finds himself confronted with a leper. Lepers in Biblical times were outcasts. They were kept outside of town, as commanded in the Old Testament, and if anyone approached them, they were to call out “Unclean!” No one wanted them around, because leprosy was highly contagious and there was no cure. One scholar put it this way: “To the rabbis the cure of a leper was as difficult as raising a person from the dead” (Marshall qtd. in Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, pg. 463). However, it was expected that one of the signs of the arrival of the Messiah would be the healing or cleansing of lepers. So this leper, who perhaps has heard about Jesus and has heard the whispers that he might just be the one, the savior, the Messiah, calls out to Jesus when he sees him passing by. Luke says the man fell on his face and begged Jesus for healing: “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean” (5:12). And Jesus does what no one was supposed to do, what hadn’t been done to this man since the day he was diagnosed with leprosy. Jesus touched him. Jesus reached out, across the distance that separated them, and he put his hand on the man. Think about that for a moment. Leprosy patients could live as long as twenty years with the disease (ZPEB, Vol. 2, pg. 139), so depending on how far along he was in his leprosy, it could have been a very, very long time since anyone has touched him. They say that one of the most isolating parts of being in the hospital or being in a nursing home or even just living alone is that no one touches you. There is great healing power in human touch, in knowing you are connected to someone else. This man had been isolated for a long, long time, until Jesus touched him and said, “Be clean!” (5:13). “And immediately,” Luke the doctor says, “the leprosy left him.”

Before he could go back to his old life, though, there were some things he had to take care of. He needed to go to the priests and have them certify him as healed; that was a directive given in the Old Testament. So go do that, Jesus says, and don’t tell anyone else that you’ve been healed. Got that? Don’t tell anyone. And so what does the man do? He does what we would probably do. He tells someone. I imagine he tells everyone, though Luke doesn’t say that. Instead, Luke says, “The news about him spread all the more” (5:15)—him being Jesus. Of course, the former leper might have only told one person, and they told one person, and they told one person…and you know how that ends up. Pretty soon, everyone knows. So something like that happens here. And Jesus’ popularity skyrockets overnight—not because of what he was teaching, but because of the healing. People want to see the show. So Luke says, “Crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses” (5:15). Crowds of people. People everywhere. People who want something from Jesus.

So what does Jesus do? Well, if we were his advisors, we’d draw up a marketing plan, get him on “Good Morning America” to talk about his ministry, make sure the evening news covers his latest speaking engagements, and be sure to highlight the fact that he can heal people. We’d take advantage of the “word of mouth” publicity, and we’d have Jesus out there seven days a week, 364 days a year (we’d probably let him have his birthday off). But that’s not what Jesus does. Luke says when the crowds grow, Jesus withdraws. In fact, he often withdraws. He goes out to the “lonely places” in order to pray (cf. Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 78). The disciples don’t seem to understand that. Over in Mark’s Gospel, there is another occasion where people come to see the show, and Jesus goes off by himself, early in the morning, to a “solitary place” to pray. And, the way Mark tells it, when the disciples get up and can’t find Jesus, they go looking for him. When they do find him, up in the hills, they say, “Everyone is looking for you!” In other words, “What are you doing up here, wasting your time praying? People are waiting for you. You have obligations, responsibilities! You don’t have time to pray!” And do you know Jesus says? “Let’s go somewhere else. Not back down to the crowds. Let’s go preach somewhere else” (Mark 1:35-39). I can almost see the dumbfounded looks on the faces of the disciples. Why wouldn’t he want to dive back into the crowds, into the popularity? Why would he spend so much time praying?

There’s another occasion in Matthew 16, again at a time when large crowds are gathering. In fact, in the previous chapter, Jesus feeds 4,000 people with seven loaves of bread. And he’s argued with some of the religious leaders, so perhaps he’s just had enough. Jesus decides it’s time to get away. Far away. As far away as he can. He takes the disciples on a retreat, way up to the northern part of Israel, to a place called Caesarea Philippi. To find a more religious place in first-century Israel would have been difficult. Caesarea Philippi had altars to all the popular pagan gods. In fact, we stood there, perhaps in the place where Jesus took the disciples, this summer. There are ruins of former pagan temples, and a cave that is sometimes referred to as “The Gates of Hell.” The Temple there was dedicated to Pan, the Goat God, and all sorts of other temples stood next to it. It was a whole smorgasboard of pagan worship. So many scholars think it was here, next to these temples, that Jesus asked the disciples who they thought he was. Peter was the only brave enough to blurt out, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (16:16). And Jesus praises him, telling him, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,” and then, perhaps pointing to the pagan temples behind him, he says, “and the gates of Hades [or Hell] will not overcome it” (16:18). In other words, these pagan religions will not stand. Nothing will overcome the one who confesses Jesus as savior. But, you see, this time away, this pause in their ministry and activity and busy-ness, was exactly what the disciples needed to be able to see Jesus clearly, to know who he was and is. 

Different places, different situations, all with the same result. Jesus knew the value of a pause when things get busy, when they get out of control, when it seems as if you don’t know what to do next. And that brings us to tonight, because after tonight, we’re taking a “pause” from PF Hope, a hiatus if you will. And I want you to know this was not an easy decision. In fact, it’s a decision we’ve probably put off too long; it’s one we knew was coming. There are a lot of factors that have come together to bring us to this point, but perhaps the easiest way I can sum it up is that for the last several months, the leadership for PF Hope has been running in a spiritual survival mode. We’ve kept busy. We’ve done all the things that needed to be done. We’ve put on services. We’ve taken field trips. We’ve played music, sung songs, preached sermons, prepared food. And we’ve ignored the model Jesus set for us of pausing and resting and listening, and so now we’ve come realize there is a deep, spiritual exhaustion happening among the leadership and those who help every week to put PF Hope together. I want you to hear me clearly: I do not believe we misheard God when we began this ministry. I believe we responded in the way God would have us respond. But there have been a lot of circumstances we didn’t anticipate, a lot of things have happened that have been, honestly, out of our control, and a lot of choices made that have served to complicate the ministry here. Things have been busy, but busy-ness is not ministry. We still believe that the calling of PF Hope is to reach people who aren’t being reached in any other way with the love of Jesus. The question is: how do we do that moving forward? Because we’re not done. This is not a “stop.” This is a pause. This is a break to give the leaders, and your pastors, time to pray and reflect and rest. These next several months are meant to be a time where we tune in again to where God will lead us next in fulfilling that mission that still burns in the hearts of everyone here.

So, what is next? Well, rest. Sabbath—pausing—is first and foremost about “rest,” about renewing the heart, mind and spirit. Exodus specifically commands rest—and uses the rhythm of creation as a model. God worked in creation for six days and rested on the seventh. We’re to do the same, not in a legalistic way, but in a way that we’re able to do what God calls us to do next. Jesus took those times away so he could reconnect with his heavenly father, so that his spirit would be renewed for the next phase of his ministry. So rest is in order to combat the spiritual exhaustion that has become an ever-present companion. And coupled with that is worship. The band and others who have provided significant leadership to this ministry have been busy leading worship and haven’t really had time to worship God themselves. I know from nearly twenty years in ministry that there is a measure of worship you can do when you’re leading, but you’re also always conscious of all the things that have to happen, or what went wrong with the equipment just before you began—or any number of things. When our family is on vacation and able to worship, just worship, it’s refreshing. And so rest and worship are on the agenda for the next weeks. And while we won’t be worshipping here, we’re still going to have worship at the church building on McCool, three services on Sunday morning. The band will be helping lead worship there. Beginning in October, they will lead a worship service a month. They’re also taking responsibility for one of our Christmas candlelight services this year. So it’s my hope you’ll join us at McCool, and together we will continue to worship.

We’re also going to be renewing our focus on Jesus. Not that we’ve ever taken our focus off of Jesus. But, just like those disciples at Caesarea Philippi, sometimes we need that pause, that break to be able to see Jesus clearly again. You know how you can get so tired you can’t see clearly? That’s a sign it’s time for a rest. And then, ultimately, this time of pausing is for discernment, for listening to God in times of prayer as to what form this outreach will take next. And I invite you to be an active part of that discernment process. Spend some time over the next few months specifically asking God where he is leading us next, and when you think you hear what God is saying, let me know, let Wade know. I believe God speaks most clearly in community—in fact, this decision to take a pause was made in community. There was not one person off by himself in an office who made the decision. It was a community, a prayerful community, who wrestled and struggled and risked enough to be open and honest with each other. So let’s commit to being that for each other. Prayerful discernment is the biggest “task” of this pause, and it’s something we’re all going to have to be involved in.

So where will God lead us next? I don’t know, but I’m excited to find out. Our mission hasn’t changed. Jesus gave it to us in some of his final words to his disciples: “Go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). Our mission as a church is to become a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ. From the depths of our being, we want everyone to know who Jesus is. We’re as convinced as we ever have been that this is our calling, that this sort of outreach is our ministry, and that God is still leading us down this road. What the road looks like, exactly, isn’t known yet, but I know this: when it does become clear, we’ll see that God has already been at work, preparing the way for us to go. So pause now, prepare your hearts, because I don’t think we’ve yet seen all that God wants to do through you and me and PF Hope.

Flesh of My Flesh

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Ephesians 5:21-33; Genesis 2:20-25; Matthew 19:1-11

August 19, 2012 • Portage First UMC

An older man and his wife were getting ready for bed one night, and when he crawled under the covers and just started to get comfortable, he heard her say from the darkness, “Do you remember when we were younger, and you’d snuggle up next to me as we went to sleep?” The old man sighed, very loudly, and scooted a little closer to her. After a moment or two, he heard her say, “And do you remember when we were younger, you used to put your arm around me and hold my hand when we went to bed?” Once again, with a loud sigh, he moved closer and took her hand in his, only to hear her say, “And honey, do you remember, when we were first married, how you used to nibble on my ear?” At this the man, threw back the covers, jumped up out of bed with a loud sigh stormed out of the room. “Wait!” she said. “Where are you going?” The man turned around and said, “I’m going to get my teeth!”

And they say romance is dead! Well, that story reminds us that love is more than a feeling. When we think of the word “love,” in our culture we most often think of romance or sex. But, as we’ve discovered in the last couple of weeks, the ancient world had a much broader definition of love. In fact, as I’ve shared with you during this month, there are four words for love in the New Testament world. “Storge” refers to family love—the kind of love we first experience. “Philos” refers to friendship love—the first place we begin to care for those outside our family. And today we come to the third word for “love,” the concept we probably most often mean when we talk about it, and that word is “eros.” Eros refers to the love between a husband and a wife, marital love. Now, we get the word “erotic” from eros, but in reality, we’ve perverted that word to mean something dirty, something beyond the bounds of marriage. In its original meaning, eros refers to the kind of life-long commitment and fidelity that God calls husbands and wives to. While we might use eros to refer to a certain kind of sex or sexual entertainment, that was not the original intention. We are sexual beings, but from the Bible’s perspective, we express that within the bounds of marriage, in a place where a husband and wife are committed to each other “til death do us part.”

Today, in America, weddings have become an industry. Every year, people spend thousands of dollars each year on the wedding day itself. On average, Americans spend $5,392 on an engagement ring and $26,984 on the wedding ceremony itself. And that’s an average. The actual costs range from $13,214 in Utah to $70,030 in Manhattan. On average, the couple will spend $194 per guest, which includes $1,393 for the ceremony site and $12,124 for the reception. Bridesmaids will end up spending $1,695 each, a figure which includes the dress, travel, gifts and parties (Stevens, “Pronounce Yourself Frugal,” Chicago Tribune, May 20, 2012, pg. 7-1). We make a huge economic investment in the wedding ceremony itself, but often we forget that on the other side of the wedding is a marriage. We invest far less in sustaining the marriage than we do in putting on a wedding, which is why, today, 50% of first marriages end in divorce (www.divorcerate.org). Sixty-seven percent of second marriages end in divorce, and—are you ready for this—seventy-four percent of third marriages end in divorce. Couples with children have a slightly lower rate of divorce, but not by much, and research project after research project has shown that Christian faith has little to no effect. Christian marriages end at the same high rate as non-Christian marriages. Through the prophet Malachi, God says that breaking a marriage covenant is the same as a husband doing violence to the one he should protect (cf. Malachi 2:16), and yet, we live in a time where break-ups and divorce are rampant, marriage is undermined and we seem to have no idea what it means to love our spouse in the way God intended. So what is a Biblical picture of eros love, marital love? Paul has some things to say about marriage when he writes to the Ephesians, and so we’re going to start in Ephesians 5 this evening/morning with a well-known passage about submission and love.

This passage is tricky and has often been taken out of context, so it’s important to understand what Paul is actually saying when he writes, “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord” (5:22). That word “submit” has been used in many cases to justify violence against women, even in Christian circles. There are churches who teach that if your wife won’t “submit” (however you define that), you can justify “making her submit.” I knew of a church (not in this area) that held classes several years ago to teach men how to make their wives submit. But here’s the thing: we think of submission in terms of power and authority and strength and might and domination. When someone “submits” to us, we think we have power over them. Paul uses this word twenty-three times in his letters, and there is no occasion when he uses it to describe one person exerting their power over someone else. It’s always in the setting of showing respect because of a person’s qualities or their position. Paul tells us to submit to civil authorities, to church leaders, to parents and to masters. In other words, it’s a matter of showing honor, whether we agree with them or not (Wood, “Ephesians,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 11, pg. 75). We may or may not like the results of this year’s presidential election, but our calling is to show respect to the office of president. That’s the sense Paul is using here as well. Wives, submit to your husbands—they deserve respect because of who they are to you.

But let’s look again at the context, because this is not a blanket statement for wives to just give in to whatever their husbands want. Look at what Paul says about husbands: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (5:25). Now, the word there for “love” is not eros; it’s agape, which we’re going to look at closely next week, but Paul gives the explanation and the example of how a husband is to love his wife so that she will naturally “submit” or show honor. The path or guideline for a husband’s love is this: love her the way Christ loved the church. Do you remember how Christ loved the church? Jesus willingly gave his life for the sake of those he loved. The story of the Bible is the story of a broken relationship. Humanity walked away from God; we sinned. God cannot be in the presence of sin, and so somehow that relationship had to be made right. Jesus came in order to do that, to show us how to live, and then to offer himself as a sacrifice on the cross. Jesus loved us enough to die in our place, or as Paul says, he “gave himself up” for us, for the church, for all his people. That’s the example Paul uses when he describes the kind of love husbands are to show their wives: “complete, self-abandoning love” (Wright, Paul for Everyone: The Prison Letters, pg. 67). A husband is called to be willing to give up his life for his wife. So, in many ways, Paul is giving the heavier responsibility to the husband, and his description of this relationship automatically leaves out any violence, harm, bullying, arrogance or any idea that women are somehow inferior to men. That’s not what he’s saying at all. Rather, he’s saying we have responsibilities to each other, and we’re not to coerce each other. The husband is the protector of the wife, and the wife is the first champion and chief encourager of the husband (Wood 75-76).

In a world like Paul lived in, where the Romans basically treated wives as property or as little more than slaves to their husbands, this was a revolutionary teaching, especially when Paul has set all of this in the context of verse 21: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” This is a word not just to husbands and wives, but to all who find themselves in any kind of relationship—whether romantic or family or friendship. In other words, this is a word to all of us (unless we choose to live under a rock by ourselves). It sets the tone for the next several paragraphs in this letter, but it certainly applies in the passage we’re looking at this evening/morning. The original design for marriage was mutual submission—each looking out for the best for the other. From the beginning, this was God’s intention. In the beginning, Genesis tells us, God made Adam, and brought before Adam all the animals to be named. “But,” Genesis says, “no suitable helper was found” for Adam (2:20). You see, in the very beginning, God recognized we men needed help! In fact, in verse 18, God says, “It is not good for the man to be alone.” We couldn’t go it alone—for one, we’d never stop and ask for directions and it was going to be a long time, God knew, before GPS was created. And let’s be honest: by ourselves, some of us would starve to death! So God put Adam to sleep and, in the very first surgical procedure, God removed a rib from Adam and made Eve. Now, why is Eve’s creation described this way? After all, God made Adam, we’re told, from the dust. Couldn’t he have made Eve the same way? Of course God could; God can do anything. But Eve was made from Adam so that there would be an eternal, indelible link between man and woman, so that when Adam first saw Eve, he would say, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (2:23).

Paul uses that example as he drifts back and forth between the husband-wife relationship and the Christ-church relationship, both of which he refers to when he says it’s a “profound mystery” (5:32). There is a link between husbands and wives that goes deeper than flesh and bone, though in the view of Genesis and, I think, also Paul, the visible expression of that link, that connection is the sexual relationship that is meant for husbands and wives to exclusively share. But the connection is deeper than even that. Paul says they belong to each other, and that they are set apart for each other. That’s what the phrase “make holy” refers to. It’s a Greek word that means “to set apart.” In fact, in the old Jewish marriage ceremony, a husband would say to his wife when he gave her the ring, “Behold, thou art sanctified to me.” You’re set apart for me. Marriage becomes an exclusive relationship, with a bond that is deeper than we can really describe, though Paul tries. He says it’s like the other is part of your own body, and “no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body” (5:29). So, the bottom line: flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones, husbands and wives are to care for each other as if they are part of each other, an extension of each other, which, in fact, they are, so much so that Paul and other Biblical writers talk about “leaving and cleaving” from our parents. Not that we cut our parents out of our lives, but they no longer hold first influence or first importance. When we are married, our first and highest allegiance goes to our spouse. Tom Wright says, “Often what pulls a marriage off course is the failure of one or other partner to distance themselves emotionally from their parents and devote themselves totally to their spouse. This is worth pondering in itself” (68). Today, some parents don’t set up an environment where their children can do that, and continue to insist on a primary role, and children aren’t always determined to make that break. But Paul says we leave our father and mother and become “one flesh” with our spouse (5:31).

Now, that’s the Biblical ideal, but we live in the real world, and we know it doesn’t always work that way. The statistics I quoted earlier bear that out. Getting married today means you have a 50% or better chance of being divorced within the first ten years, especially if you are between 20-24 years old when you get married. Is there a way out? Does the Bible give any escape clause? Because we’re always looking for the escape clause in whatever we’re involved in, so for that, we turn to Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel, where we find him preaching to large crowds in the desert of Judea, south of Jerusalem. And while he’s there, some Pharisees, who interpreted the religious law very strictly, came up to him. They always seemed to be around, watching for Jesus to do or say something they considered wrong. So this day, they approach him with a question. It’s a good question, because to contradict them would be to contradict Moses, the great teacher of the people, the great lawgiver. They ask, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?” After all, they tell Jesus, Moses said a man could give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away (19:3, 7). In fact, they say Moses “commanded” that action, but that’s not correct. They’re referring to Deuteronomy 24, where Moses does say, “If a man marries a woman who becomes displeasing to him because he finds something indecent about her, and he writes her a certificate of divorce, gives it to her and sends her from his house…” and then he goes on to actually say that if she marries another man and he divorces her, she can’t go back and remarry the first man. The whole passage isn’t about reasons for divorce; it’s about a proper ordering of the community. What the Pharisees actually ignore is the phrase Moses uses to allow divorce: if the man finds “something indecent” in the woman. He doesn’t define that, which is probably why they ignore it. In Jesus’ day, there were two schools of thought about that. One rabbi taught divorce was only allowed in the case of adultery, and another rabbi taught that a man could divorce his wife if she burned the toast, and still another rabbi allowed divorce “if you find someone more attractive” (Keener, Bible Background Commentary, pg. 96). In addition, the legal system of the day was very man-centric. The husband could divorce his wife at any time and for any reason, while the woman could divorce her husband only under certain conditions and with the help of the court (Keener 97). So, the Pharisees say, what do you think, Jesus? Who do you side with in this ongoing debate?

Jesus first makes the case, just as we have, for the “one flesh” idea, that husbands and wives are one. “What what God has joined together, let no one separate” (19:6), he says. Jesus goes on to say that divorce wasn’t God’s original plan, and that Moses allowed it “because your hearts were hard” (19:8). Moses allowed it because the world is so broken that sometimes our treatment of each other becomes sinful and there’s really no other choice (cf. Carson, “Matthew,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, pg. 413). But Jesus doesn’t say that makes it the preferred option. In fact, he goes to somewhat define Moses’ terms of “indecency” as “sexual immorality” (19:9)—or at least that’s how the NIV translates it. The word there is “porneia,” and a lot of ink has been spilled trying to explain what that word means exactly. It’s can mean “adultery” or “sexual immorality” or even “prostitution.” We, obviously, have adopted that word in our language to refer to a perversion of God’s good gift of sexuality—it shows up as our word “pornography.” But the word really has a broader meaning than that. Its basic meaning is “marital unfaithfulness” (Carson 413). It means the marriage covenant is broken. And certainly, adultery and other forms of sexual immorality fall into that category. But might there be other things also? The man who abuses his wife because he can—physically, mentally, sexually. When someone acts in bullying or abusive manners, when a body is hurt or a spirit is crushed—is the bond broken? In today’s world, we don’t have to go anywhere to have access to pornography. It’s all online, all for the taking. When we fantasize about someone other than our spouse, someone who doesn’t really exist, is the bond broken? Do we break the covenant when we fail to follow Paul’s instructions to submit to and love one another? It’s not simple, and it’s not something, Jesus said you take lightly. In fact, when Paul describes the union of husband and wife he uses a word (we translate it as “be united”) that means “to be glued” (Wood 78). Lifelong exclusive marriage is God’s plan for husbands and wives, and it’s also true that these things don’t automatically trigger a divorce. At the heart of our faith is the principle of and belief in forgiveness, but it’s going to take two people working very hard to get to that point. Reconciliation can happen, but it’s not going to be easy.

And there are times when divorce happens. Whether it should or not, it happens. What do we do then? First of all, let me assure you that even though divorce isn’t God’s plan, it’s not the unforgivable sin, either. Forgiveness is available. And we have to remember in the midst of the brokenness we’re experiencing that the divorce doesn’t just affect two people; there are so many more in your lives who have been affected and who may be uncertain what to do or how to respond. If marriage glues two people together, divorce tears them apart and neither are ever the same. Paul, I think, gives us a good word here, though it’s not just a word for marriage. To the Romans, Paul reminds us: “as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). That phrase, “as far as it depends on you,” is important. We do what we can to pursue forgiveness, to live above tearing the other person down, and seek to live with integrity as much as we can. Divorce is not the end of the road.

As the church, however, our goal is to strengthen marriages before we get to that point. Just this week, I received an e-mail with a testimony about how a couple re-centered their marriage around their faith and that decision became, truly, salvation to both of them and to their marriage. Marriage, quite honestly, is hard work, and Paul doesn’t dance around that truth. Sacrifice? Submitting? Honoring? Those are hard things to do. The easy thing to do is to walk out, especially today when you can end a marriage online. Cathy and I have been married for twenty-three years, a drop in the bucket compared to some of the folks in our church, and yet it’s not always been easy. There are times when, for both of us, if it weren’t for our faith, we might not have made it to the next day. Especially after the kids were born, marriage took a lot of work. It still does, though we’re in one of the best places I can remember us being right now, even with the stresses that push in daily. But you have to make time for each other. Why is it when we get married, we stop dating our spouse? Times where it’s just the two of you are vitally important—though if you have kids at home, you may end up wondering what to do or talk about if you don’t have them out with you. Listen to how comedian Jeff Allen dealt with getting away without kids.

VIDEO: Jeff Allen - Wedding Anniversaries

So you need time away, without the kids. Children need to know they’re loved, but they also need to know you love your spouse enough to spend time together, to continue to grow your relationship. Our culture idolizes children, lets them in many ways control the family. Children are valued, loved, cared for, nurtured and that even happens when you allow yourself to work on your marriage. Cathy and I have, for the last many years, had a regular date time set aside and most weeks we keep that. We both have Fridays off, so on Fridays during the school year we go out to lunch together, and we talk, we catch up because often during the week we’re going here and there and there’s no time to work on “us.” So for us, going out to eat removes us from the temptation to do “ordinary things” around the house and not focus on each other. Each husband and wife have to find a time that works for them, and then put it in ink in your calendars. There shouldn’t be much that changes that appointment.

Beyond that, you need to make a commitment to each other that issues won’t fester. Paul said, “Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry” (Ephesians 4:26), and that’s good advice for husbands and wives. When you are married, you make a covenant for better or worse. Too often, we let things just sit because we’re afraid of upsetting the other person. Well, he may need to be upset. She may need to be turned around. You both may need to listen. Eros love isn’t just about sex. And it isn’t just about sharing a mortgage. Deep, committed covenant love means you’re in this thing for the long haul. It may mean that today you do what she wants to do. Or tomorrow she does what you want to do. That’s part of loving and submitting and honoring one another.

And when those tough times come, it’s important to go back to the beginning. What was it that made you fall in love with this person to begin with? What qualities, what characteristics—what was it that drew you to each other? And I hear people say, “Well, they’ve changed.” So have you. None of us stays the same. But I know this: those who are willing to work hard on their marriage want to know why you fell in love with them, and that might be the reminder they need to recapture part of themselves they have lost. It’s easy to criticize the other person, but are you the person they fell in love with? Are you growing more into a loving and lovable person? Sometimes, very often, it takes simply remembering what a gift your spouse was and is.

I don’t have a lot of treasures, priceless things, but this is one of the few I do have. It’s a Bible—a New Testament—and it doesn’t look like much; there’s nothing really on the outside that would make it stand out. But it was found among my grandmother’s things when she passed away. And when I opened it, I found this inscription: “Presented to Walter F. Ticen with the prayers of the Presbyterian Church and Sunday School, Beloit, Kansas, September 25, 1917.” And on the opposite page, presumably in my grandfather’s handwriting, is his father’s name and that he lived in Sedalia, Indiana. This was my grandfather’s Bible when he served in the Army during the time of World War I. There’s also a picture tucked in here of my grandparents from 1920, after he had returned home. I never knew my grandfather; this Bible and a couple of other items are really the only I connection with him. It’s a treasure. There is not another one exactly like it in the world. So what do you think I do with it? Toss it around, leave it laying out in the rain, let the dog chew on it, or lose track of it? Absolutely not. I keep this treasure on a high shelf in my office, to remind me of my heritage of faith and of those who prayed for my grandfather, and of those who pray for me. Why am I telling you this? Because when you got married, God gave you a treasure, a work of art, a masterpiece. And that other person might not look like a treasure on the outside; you have to look inside to see God’s fingerprints. On your wedding day, God entrusted you with a one-of-a-kind creation, a treasure you are to value, honor, and protect—every day of your life (cf. Lucado, The Lucado Inspirational Reader, pgs. 153-154). How are you doing with living out eros love? What one thing will you do this week to strengthen your marriage or the marriages of those around you? Write it down, make a commitment to do it before next Sunday. Small steps can lead to great progress and turn those “worse” times into “better.” So, let’s pray for our marriages, shall we?

Come Before Winter

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

1 Samuel 20:1-17; 2 Timothy 4:9-22; John 15:13-17

August 12, 2012 • Portage First UMC

According to Facebook, I have 1,027 friends. And since it’s on the internet, it must be true, right? 1,027 friends…and most of them I actually know! It’s a result of having lived in many different places in my life, and having served three churches over the past twenty years. But, honestly, most of them I don’t see very often if at all. A few of them are “friends of friends” that I may never have met. Social media is actually changing the very definition of the word “friend” (or at least what we think it means), because you can be “friends” online with nearly anyone in the world. Facebook alone has an estimated 845 million active users, so conceivably you could have 845 million friends all over the world, never having met most of them. The other thing social media has done is introduced the concept of “unfriending” people. Online, you simply click a link and you’re not friends anymore. All of this without having to see, confront or talk to the other person. Now, I use social media and I know it has tremendous power to connect people, but it’s changing the concept of friendship radically, especially among younger people. Today, many people have lots of online friends, but we have very few “real” friends.

By “real friends,” I mean those folks you could call at 2:00 a.m. and know they would listen to you and do whatever it would take to help you if needed. Or, at the very least, people who will be there to listen, to not judge and to buy you a cup of coffee in the real world. Friends are vitally important to our well-being. John Ortberg tells of a research project done a few years ago by a social scientist from Harvard. The researchers tracked 7,000 people over a period of nine years, and one of the things they learned is that people who were isolated, who had few or no friends, were three times more likely to die younger than those who had strong relational connections. Maybe even more surprising was this fact: “People who had bad health habits (such as smoking, poor eating habits, obesity, or alcohol use) but strong social ties lived significantly longer than people who had great health habits but were isolated. In other words,” Ortberg says, “it is better to eat Twinkies with good friends than to eat broccoli alone.” Another study, reported in the Journal of the American Medical Association, told of a project in which 276 volunteers were infected with a virus that produced the common cold. (Not something I would volunteer for!) Those who had close friends were four times better fighting off the illness than those who were more isolated. The study said these people were less susceptible to colds, had less virus, and produced significantly less mucous than people who kept to themselves. It’s true: unfriendly people are snottier than friendly people (John Ortberg, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them, p. 33)!

The Gallup Organization studied the relationship between friends and work. People who have no friends at their job only have a 1 in 12 chance of feeling engaged in or connected to their work. On the other hand, if you have a “best friend” at work, you’re seven times more likely to be engaged in what you’re doing. Time magazine put it this way: “Let friendship ring. It might look like idle chatter, but when employees find friends at work, they feel connected to their jobs. Having a best friend at work is a strong predictor for being a happy and productive employee.” The bottom line? Friendships—real friendships, not just online connections—are vitally important, because, as the Bible has asserted all along, we were made for community.

Last week, we began a series of messages looking at the various relationships in our lives. During August, we’re focusing on four words that, in the New Testament world, describe love, and so we began last week with storge, which is family love. Families are where we first learn what love looks like, and when we get that healthy picture, we’re able then to share that with others, with friends. The Biblical word for friendship is philos, as in “Philadelphia,” which is actually a Greek word that means “city of brotherly love” or “city of friends.” “Philos” describes the kind of bond between two people that comes from a work relation, or common interests, or any number of other things that connect people. In ancient times, this word described the “best man” in a wedding party, whose responsibilities included asking for the hand of the bride, finding out if she would marry the groom. “Philos” is being willing to stand by someone, to do what is needed for them, and in the Scriptures there are many images of such friendship. For our sake this morning, though, I want to just look at three stories, and from each of those stories, draw out a principle of Biblical friendship. So—three stories, three principles, and one question I’m going to ask all the way through: how good a friend are you? Pretty simple, so we’re going to start in the Old Testament, with two men named David and Jonathan.

David, you might remember, was chosen by God to be king of Israel after the first king, Saul, failed to be who God called him to be. David was a shepherd boy who suddenly found himself at the center of political intrigue, because Saul was not going to go quietly. He made repeated attempts to kill David, and often he had David on the run throughout the desert of Judea. Jonathan, you might not remember. He is Saul’s son. He is the heir apparent. He is the one who, by succession, would naturally follow his father on the throne, become the next king. And that’s why Saul can’t begin to understand the friendship that grows between David and Jonathan. David is Jonathan’s replacement. David is the reason Jonathan will not become king. And yet, rather than join Saul in his murderous rage against David, Jonathan becomes David’s most loyal friend and supporter.

When we join the narrative in 1 Samuel 20, Saul has already made attempts on David’s life. Jonathan is in denial, and I don’t think it’s because he’s trying to deceive David or because he’s trying to keep both sides happy. I think it’s because he can’t imagine why his father would want to kill the one God has chosen. To Jonathan, David is not a replacement. He is a friend. And so, in this chapter, when David comes to Jonathan, asking what he has done to deserve such treatment, Jonathan says, “My father wouldn’t do that!” When David pushes the issue, Jonathan’s next words are those of a close friend: “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do for you” (20:4).

David reminds Jonathan that the next day is a special feast. It’s the beginning of the month, the New Moon Feast, a time when a special meal was eaten in God’s presence and special sacrifices were offered. And even though David was hated by Saul, David would still be expected to show up at dinner, because he was part of the royal court (Goldingay, 1 & 2 Samuel for Everyone, pg. 95; Arnold, NIV Application Commentary: 1 & 2 Samuel, pgs. 296-297). So, David says he’ll skip the meal, and if Saul is angry, Jonathan will know that his father intends to harm David. The rest of our reading, then, is a description of the covenant of friendship David and Jonathan share. Now, we usually use the word “covenant” to describe a marriage relationship, but here it’s used in a different but no less significant way, because the whole conversation is couched in terms of loyalty to each other. David wants to be assured Jonathan will keep his promises even at the risk of angering his father. And Jonathan, for his part, wants David to promise to take care of Jonathan’s children when David becomes king. Jonathan knows it’s customary for ancient Near Eastern kings to get rid of all the descendants of anyone who might threaten their throne (Arnold 299), and so Jonathan asks David to show the same mercy to his offspring that he shows to Jonathan. Together, they make promises to each other that come from a deep loyalty rooted in the relationship both of them have with God.

The word used here to describe it is hesed, which is a difficult word to translate into English. Most often, you might find it as “kindness” or “lovingkindness.” It can mean loyalty, faithfulness, mercy, love. The basic meaning is close to this: when the one who owes you nothing gives you everything. Most often, it’s used to describe the way God views us, but it’s also used in the Bible and in the Old Testament specifically to describe human relationships in which we faithfully live out our commitment to each other by doing what we can for the other. We put the other first. We show kindness by what we do, by the way we treat those we call our friends (Arnold 301). Jesus described it this way: “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31). And for these friends, it was a commitment that extended to each other’s family. In fact, when Jonathan is killed and David becomes king, he extends kindness to Jonathan’s sole survivor, Mephibosheth (Goldingay 97). So the first principle we find for Biblical friendship is loyalty, a willingness to do what is needed for the other person.

In the movie Rudy, we meet a young man who wants nothing more than to play football for Notre Dame. But he’s told he’s too small, he can’t do it, and even though he’s given a place on the practice squad, all he really wants to do is to suit up. He wants his parents, so proud of him for being admitted to Notre Dame, to see him on the field. The new coach says no, until Rudy’s friends do what they don’t have to do and stand up for him.

VIDEO CLIP: Rudy, “Dress in My Place”

Biblical friendship is rooted in covenant and in unfailing kindness. Philos—friendship—is loyalty. So the question: how good a friend are you?

Now, let’s turn to the New Testament. David and Jonathan’s story is rooted in the early stages of a friendship, but Paul’s story, as we find it in 2 Timothy, is nearing the end. In fact, many believe 2 Timothy was, perhaps, the last letter Paul wrote before he was killed by the Romans. At this point in his life, Paul has been through a lot. He’s traveled all over the known world, preaching the Gospel, leading others to Jesus, starting churches and facing opposition. He’s in prison now, probably in Rome, and he is alone. So he takes up pen and paper and writes to his friend, his “dear son,” as he calls him in the beginning of this letter, Timothy (1:2). Timothy is one Paul mentored and then helped establish as a pastor in Ephesus. This letter is, in many ways, Paul’s final charge and challenge and encouragement to Timothy—his last chance to mentor him. So he covers many things, and then, at the end of the letter, Paul gets very personal. He’s lonely. “Only Luke is with me,” he says (4:11), and he needs to know someone is out there, someone is supporting him. He’s known what it feels like to be deserted, to be left alone when facing trial, and to have people he trusted “do him harm” (4:14). He’s known what it’s like to have people reject the faith he tried to hard to live and to instill in them (4:10). Now, he knows God has been with him through all of that, but you know, sometimes we just need to have flesh and blood reassurance. It’s true that Jesus will never leave us or forsake us (cf. Hebrews 13:5), but sometimes we need that friend who comes alongside as a reminder. That’s why, I think, Proverbs reminds us, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity” (17:17). You’ve known times like that, haven’t you? I have. It is in the most difficult times in our lives when we find out who our “real friends” are. It is in those times when we walk through the fire that we discover who will come alongside and walk with us. Even when others desert us, a friend will stick close. Hear again words from Proverbs, words which, to me, almost read like a prayer: “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (18:24).

And so, Paul writes to Timothy. “Do your best to come to me quickly,” he asks. In fact, he specifically asks Timothy to come before winter (14:21). Now, undoubtedly, he’s worried about Timothy traveling in bad weather. There’s an urgency in the request that Timothy would come before the sea lanes are closed for the winter. Land travel was bad enough in the winter; sea travel was impossible (Arnold 296). So certainly he is concerned about the weather; that’s also evident because he asks for his cloak, his heavy outer garment he left in Troas (4:13). Even in a relatively warm climate like Rome, the underground prison would be damp and cold. But I think there’s a deeper significance in Paul’s call for Timothy to come before winter. He seems to know his end is near; he says as much earlier in the letter when he tells Timothy, “I am being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near” (4:6). Paul wants Timothy to make sure he arrives so Paul can see his friend one last time before he leaves this world. “Winter” becomes a metaphor for the end of one’s life. And though Paul knows he has been faithful to what he was called to do (cf. 4:7-8), he still longs to know that his ministry and his friendship with Timothy has made a difference. “Come before winter, Timothy. I need your support, I need to sense your faithful friendship.” So, the first principle of Biblical friendship was loyalty. And the second principle is this: we show our friends support even in the darkest of times. We stand by them, like Timothy stood by Paul.

One other quick thing to point out when it comes to Paul: consider how willing he is to forgive those who have hurt him. He writes this: “At my first defense, no one came to my support, but everyone deserted me. May it not be held against them” (4:16). That challenges and convicts me, because when someone has hurt me, when someone has deserted me or, worse, intended to harm me, I have a hard time getting to forgiveness. Now Paul does not say we should put ourselves back in a place where we can be hurt again. He also doesn’t say we should continue to try to be friends with them. Perhaps they have proven they can’t be trusted or counted on or whatever. But part of friendship is being willing to forgive (for our own sake, if nothing else), to move on, to do what Paul did, to turn the hurt and the relationship over to Jesus. And I’ll admit, that’s hard for me to do. I’m working on it. So, again, the question: how good a friend are you?

For the third story, we turn back a few pages to the Gospel of John, to a walk Jesus took with his disciples on the last night before his crucifixion. We looked at this story a few weeks ago, but this morning I want to focus on the sort of people Jesus calls “philos”—friend. “Greater love,” Jesus says, “has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s philos. You are my philos if you do what I command” (15:13-14). And he goes on to talk about his command is to bear fruit by loving one another. So these disciples are Jesus’ friends, his philos. And they live that out by doing what Jesus said. They live it out by bearing fruit for his kingdom. They live it out by loving one another. These particular disciples lived it out in the next few years by going to the ends of the earth to tell others about Jesus. They shared faith. They preached good news. They made an impact on their world. And all of them, except one, died a martyr’s death because of their faith. The world put them to death because they were so radically wrapped up in the love of Jesus, in being Jesus’ friends. So the third principle, then, is this, I believe: to be a true philos to someone means we share faith. We are concerned enough about their eternity that we want to make a difference in the lives of our friends with the love of Jesus.

Of all the things we talk about with our friends, rarely do we talk about the most important things. We talk about the weather, the latest technology, who won the big game last night, where we should go to eat today, how our kids are doing in school, how our golf game is going, or what kind of car we’d like to buy next—all of these things that we talk about, endlessly, and rarely do we ever get around to talking about the things that are most important. Rarely do we ever get around to talking about our faith. You know, our mission statement here at the church is that we’re becoming a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ. Our mission statement as the United Methodist Church is that we are making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. We believe, and the Bible tells us this, that the message of Jesus is the most important message in the world. Choosing to follow him is the most important decision we will ever make because that decision alone determines our eternity. We’re wasting time worrying about things that won’t last while people we call friends—whether they’re on Facebook or in the real world—all around us are headed into an eternity without Jesus. Hell, whatever else it is, is eternal separation from God’s presence. When will our friends become important enough to us that we’ll do what Jesus said and share our faith with them?

Now, I’m not talking about being a Bible thumper and going to every friend and telling them to “turn or burn.” Sharing our faith with someone ought not to be a threatening thing. It ought to be something that flows out of us naturally, through an invitation to go with you to a church service or an event or a work project, or by sharing at an appropriate time how your faith in Jesus helped you through a difficult or dark place. You see, becoming a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ and making disciples for Jesus doesn’t just happen within these walls. It can’t. It’s more likely going to happen in your everyday life, in the relationships and friendships God has entrusted to you. You will reach people and touch lives I never will because of your commitment to a philos love which includes loving our friends enough to be concerned for their eternity. I’ll never forget when I was very young the way God impressed this on me. I can even remember where I was in our house in Sedalia, and I was watching something (I don’t remember what) on television when God spoke very clearly to my heart. God gave me a vision of a friend of mine spending eternity without Jesus, and in that moment I could feel what it would be like if that friend entered eternity separated from God. It was a horrible, empty feeling. And, I think, it’s that experience that has given me a passion for mobilizing folks to share faith with friends. Philos love calls us to do what Jesus commands, to love others enough to share faith with them. So, again, the question: how good a friend are you?

So David and Jonathan remind us of the vital importance of loyalty. Paul and Timothy remind us how critical support is, especially in difficult times. And Jesus calls us to share faith. These images are at least part of what Biblical friendship looks like. And along the way this morning, you’ve been examining what kind of friend you are. So let me ask one more question: are you willing to invest the time and energy it’s going to take to become a better friend? Because it will take time, and perhaps patience. This week, one morning, I was working at Starbucks, and sitting across the room from me were two friends, one of which was talking rather loudly. And he kept talking. And kept talking. And I got to the point where I wanted to ask him to stop talking, but his friend patiently listened. And the more I thought about that, I wondered if he realized how good a friend he had there. To practice philos is going to mean we need to listen well in order to know our friends well enough to know what they need. How can we live out loyalty to them? How can we support them? How can we share faith with them? We’re going to have to listen more than we usually do. So much of our friendships stay on the surface because we talk and we talk and we talk and we don’t listen. And more than that, we don’t take time to listen to the whispers of the Holy Spirit, because if we’re listening to the Spirit of God, I believe we’ll be able to hear what our friend needs. Are you willing to take and invest the time that’s needed to be a true philos?

And, one more thing—like Paul asked of Timothy, we need to do it before “winter,” before there is no more time. When we were in college, Cathy and I had a friend named Sherry. We were all in InterVarsity together, and got to know each other, and then we all graduated, Cathy and I got married, and everyone moved on with their life. Sherry came to visit us once in seminary, not long after she’d been diagnosed with scleroderma, a disease that attacks the connective tissue in your body. Sherry fought against it well, even entering a program at Ohio State for her doctorate. We visited her there once, and then we sort of lost touch. When she died a few years later, just shy of having completed her doctorate, I wondered why we hadn’t said the sorts of things we should have. We were always joking around with Sherry; that was somehow easier. But I don’t know that we ever became the support she needed. I don’t know that we ever listened well enough to know what that would look like. Now, this is not one of those “feel bad for me” stories. Sherry’s in heaven with Jesus, but her story and other things that have happened to me through the years have made me determined to let people know how important they are to me. I want to be a good and loyal philos. I want to represent Jesus well, because friendship is vitally important to each of us. God made us for community. God made us to be in relationship with each other. So let me ask you one more time: what kind of friend are you? And if you’re not the kind you want to be, what will you do this week to become more loyal, more supportive, more like Jesus? Who is in your life right now whom you can invest in? I can’t urge you enough to do it before “winter.” Let’s pray for our friends, shall we?

Where You Go

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Ruth 1:1-18; Ephesians 6:1-4; John 19:25-27

August 4/5, 2012 • Portage First UMC

We have a framed picture hanging downstairs in our house, right next to the kids’ rooms, which was given to us many years ago. It’s a prayer, one I have to often resort to, which says, “Lord, give me the patience to endure my blessings!” Don’t we sometimes feel that way about our families? The one set of relationships we’re born into is often the most difficult to navigate through, which is why, I would imagine, George Burns once said, “Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.” And George Bernard Shaw put it this way: “When our relatives are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them.” Most of the time, most of us love our families, but then there are those moments that creep up on us, that get under our skin and stay there. Home may be the place, as Robert Frost said, where they have to take you in, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. How do you practice love toward those who are biologically related to you?

This evening/morning, we’re beginning a new series for the month of August, asking that question about all sorts of relationships. Our English language is rather limited, with just one word to describe all sorts of different feelings and emotions and behaviors. In the Greek language, which the New Testament was written in, there are four words for “love,” each one describing a different experience. So using those four words, for the next four weeks, we’re going to be looking at different ways we’re called to love others. Next week, we’ll talk about the love we share with friends, and the following week we’ll focus on the relationship between husbands and wives. Then, the final week, we’ll talk about the all-encompassing, no-strings-attached sort of love God has for every one of us. But this morning, we’re going to begin at a very basic level, at the most basic building block of our society. The word is “storge” and it refers to family love. And, though the word storge is not found in the New Testament, love of family is depicted all throughout both the Old and New Testaments. Family is where we learn first what love is, and one of the most prominent places we see that in the Scriptures is in a story about a woman named Ruth.

Ruth was not a Hebrew. She was from the country of Moab. Moab was just over on the other side of the Dead Sea (cf. Goldingay, Joshua, Judges & Ruth for Everyone, pg. 164), south of Jerusalem and Bethlehem. In fact, when we were at the Dead Sea in June, our guide pointed out the “mountains of Moab.” We could see them clearly, so Israel and Moab were close neighbors…geographically. However, as with a lot of close neighbors, they didn’t always get along. Now, it’s not clear in Ruth’s time what relations were like between Moab and Israel, especially since Israel at this time wasn’t really a unified country. They were ruled by judges, really more “heroes” who came to the people’s rescue when trouble came on the land. It was in that time that a famine hit. Famines aren’t all that uncommon in the land; it is a desert, after all. There are often long times without rainfall. But this famine was bad enough that a man from Bethlehem, Elimelek, decided he wasn’t going to be able to provide for his family, and since conditions seemed to be better in Moab, he moved his family there.

Though it may have been meant to be a temporary move, it seems to have become rather permanent when Elimelek unexpectedly died. You remember how we talked about widows a couple of weeks ago, how they had no one to support them and were often impoverished. Thankfully, Naomi, Elimelek’s widow, had two sons who would take care of her, and one of the signs that the family settled down to stay in Moab is that the sons marry Moabite women. They settle down into happy family life, presumably with at least a comfortable income, and then tragedy strikes again. Both sons die; we’re not told how or even if they died at the same time or some time apart. All we’re told is that, once again, Naomi is at a crossroads, and this time she has no one to support her. Not only that, but she now has two daughters-in-law to take care of. No income, no heirs, no job—the only occupation left open to most women in those days was prostitution, and Naomi can’t bring herself to do that. Nor does she want to beg. Aside from living in abject poverty, her only other option is to return home (cf. Driesbach, “Commentary on Ruth,” Cornerstone Biblical Commentary, Vol. 3, pg. 514), to Israel, to Bethlehem, and hope that there would still be family there who would take her in and care for her.

So Naomi, Orpah and Ruth start out on the road back toward Bethlehem, and along the way Naomi must have realized what she’s doing. She’s taking Moabite women back to Israel. To her, they’ve become family, but to those who haven’t known her now for ten years, they’re women from another culture, unclean, worshipping strange gods, perhaps. How will they be accepted? And will her family take them in as well? It’s going to be enough to try to feed Naomi, an extra mouth. Will her family accept three extra women? There was no benefit in these young women returning to Israel with Naomi (Dreisbach 517), so perhaps feeling some apprehension, or even some guilt that they are stuck tagging along with her, she tells them to go back to their mother’s house. “May the Lord show you kindness,” she tells them, “as you have shown kindness to your dead husbands and to me. May the Lord grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband” (1:8-9). When both of them insist on continuing with Naomi (which would have been the expected response in a culture that valued “haggling” over every arrangement), Naomi insists they go back to Moab. She points out that she is too old to have other sons, and even if she would, it would be wrong to ask these women to wait for them to grow up. Go home, she tells them. So Orpah does. But Ruth doesn’t. We’re told Ruth “clung” to Naomi. She “stayed close to” Naomi; she “joined” Naomi in whatever future awaited her. In fact, Ruth goes so far as to, in essence, renounce her other family and her past; she tells Naomi, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried” (1:16-17). She gives up her gods, her land, her right to be buried in her homeland and becomes Naomi’s family. You have to wonder—why?

Bible scholars have pondered that question, and speculated about it. Some suggest Ruth had no family to return to, or that her home life had been terrible or hard. Perhaps Naomi’s life was better than what she might go back to, though that’s hard to imagine. There are all sorts of thoughts, but perhaps it’s as simple as this: in whatever time she had been part of Naomi’s life, the two had become true family. Ruth saw something in Naomi that she wanted in her life. Perhaps it was Naomi’s faith, though that seems a bit shaken at this point, and besides that, in those days, faith was more a matter of cultural identity than personal choice. You typically didn’t choose your gods; in many ways, they “chose” you by where you lived. So perhaps faith plays into it, but for Ruth there seems to be something more going on here. Whatever was going through Ruth’s head, we do know this: at this moment, Ruth shows the meaning of the word “commitment,” of what “storge” or family love looks like. She is willing to give up everything else in order to be family for Naomi. While Orpah’s decision to return may seem to be the “smart one” (at least from Naomi’s viewpoint), it’s Ruth we remember because of her dogged determination to live out “storge,” family love (cf. Driesbach 518).

The word that echoes throughout the story of Ruth (and if you don’t know the whole story, I’d encourage you to read it this week) is “commitment.” Family love is first and foremost about commitment—radical commitment like Ruth demonstrates. Commitment that says you’ll do whatever it takes to uphold and care for your family members. The “sane” thing would have been for Ruth to return home, at least in the way we usually think. But Ruth is committed to Naomi and to her welfare. Since Naomi had lost all of her children, Ruth takes on the role that her children would have otherwise fulfilled, even to the point of gathering food for them when they get to Israel. In fact, at the end of the story, Naomi is told that Ruth “is better to you than seven sons” (4:15). “Storge” love says we do whatever it takes to care for and to uphold those whom God has put in our families.

We see that same spirit in the brief reading we had from the Gospel this morning. It’s actually a passage we looked at during the “Seven Last Words” series last Lent, where Jesus, from the cross, entrusts the care of his mother to the beloved disciple. Jesus, in the midst of his pain and agony, wants to make sure his mother is taken care of, and even though the beloved disciple may not have been a blood relative, he “took her into his home” from that moment on (19:27). He showed a “storge” commitment to Jesus’ mother. He cared for her and upheld her, and he would make that commitment no matter what else was to come.

Now, sometimes that gets interpreted this way: that Christian people should be doormats. No one may say it quite that way, but that’s often the way some see it. I knew a woman whose brother was constantly spending everything he got on alcohol and other things, so that when his bills came, he had nothing left to pay them. He came to her and asked for money, which she refused to give to him. His response? “I thought you were a Christian, and Christians were supposed to help those in need.” Well, she went through a time of guilt for refusing him—so does this sort of commitment and loyalty mean we’re supposed to be taken advantage of? Because we all, most likely, have those people in our families who would and could try to do that, to take advantage of our compassion and desire to help. But commitment is not a matter of being run over. It’s a matter of doing what is right for the one we love. Paul gives us a picture of that in his letter to the Ephesians.

In a couple of weeks, we’re going to look more at the passage that comes right before this one, because it deals directly with husbands and wives. It’s the famous “wives, submit to your husbands” passage, so you’ll want to be sure to be here for that one! But let me set up today’s instruction by reminding us of Ephesians 5:21, the verse that introduces all of these family directions. In that verse, Paul writes these words: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” This was a radical teaching for families and individuals in the culture of Paul’s day. “Submit to one another” means that no one is over another. No one is the sole head. Rather, there is a mutual care and love and commitment you didn’t find in other places in the Roman world, though it does certainly reflect the sort of care we saw in the Ruth story. But, you see, the world Paul lived in was very hierarchical. The father called the shots, always. When it came to children, fathers held life and death power over each one. He could sell them as slaves, send them to work in the fields (even in chains), and even inflict the death penalty. When a child was born, he or she was placed at the father’s feet, and if the father picked up the child, that meant the child could live. If he walked away, the child was left out to die. And if they were left out, they might be picked up, most likely by people who would care for them until they could be sold to the slave trade or the brothels. Now, remember, this was Roman custom, not Hebrew, but that is the culture Paul is writing to when he gives these instructions for “storge,” family love, to the Ephesians. He’s writing to a world in which a son never came of age until his father died. Until that moment, the son was completely and always under the power of his father (Barclay, The Letters to the Galatians and Ephesians, pgs. 175-176).

To that world, Paul and the Christian Gospel say this: “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right” (6:1). Paul links that to what he calls the “first commandment with a promise”—commandment meaning the Ten Commandments. “Honor your father and mother,” Moses told the people, “so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you” (Deuteronomy 5:16). So, obeying your parents is the way you honor them. Now, “obey” means to “listen to, consider, or submit to.” I think the way we live that out changes as we grow, but we never outgrow the command to honor our parents. When we are children, the road to honor involves doing what we are told, and as we grow it changes more into listening, considering what our parents say, seeking their wisdom when we have choices to make. You know, it’s the old adage that most of us didn’t realize how smart our parents were until we got in our twenties, or especially when we started having kids of our own. Suddenly, our parents got real smart real quick, right? “Storge” love between children and parents involves honor—showing our parents that they have worth to us, much as Ruth did when she went with Naomi, took Naomi as her mother and showed her honor, value, worth. We “obey” when we consider, when we listen, when we value our parents.

But’s not the only side of Paul’s instruction. He goes on in verse 4: “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” Now, again, this is addressed to fathers in Paul’s word because of the absolute control they held over the welfare and well being of their children. In today’s world, I believe Paul would address this directly to both parents, though it is still true that fathers need greater encouragement than mothers to be involved in their children’s life and to dispense kindness to their children. So what is Paul saying? He tells the Colossians almost the same thing. To them, he writes, “Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged” (Colossians 3:21). Have you known children who were discouraged, who had their spirits broken, by the treatment they received from their parents? I knew a girl who loved to smile, and when she was in the youth choir at the church she could barely sing sometimes because she was smiling so much. Now, I’d love to have a youth choir full of smiling people, but her father was from a very old school, and one day he told her, “Why do you smile so much up there? You need to stop smiling when you’re in front of the church.” And you know what? She did. And pretty soon, the joy of singing was gone from her life. It became a chore to be endured. Now, that’s pretty mild, I’ll admit. There are lot worse things that parents do to their children to break their spirits, up to and including actual abuse. Physical abuse is horrible and should never be permitted, but verbal, emotional or spiritual abuse is nearly as bad and leaves scars that run much deeper. How many broken spirits have there been because of the harsh or disapproving words of a parent? How many children have quit trying because the words and actions of their parents told them they would never be good enough? Remember a couple of weeks ago we talked about the power of the tongue—how it can tear down or build up (cf. James 3:8-10). Parents, let me challenge you: examine your words toward your children (whether they live at home or are on their own) this week. Which goal have your words accomplished? “Fathers, do not exasperate your children…children, obey your parents in the Lord…” And all of this takes place in the context of mutual submission, each of us looking out for the best for the other. When that becomes the setting for our family life, we begin to get a glimpse of true “storge” love.

But there’s one more essential piece here. Instead of “exasperating” your children, he instructs parents to “bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord” (6:4). By training, Paul means the cultivation of mind and morals—in other words, helping their minds grow and giving them a set of morals, a sense of right and wrong. And by instruction, he means setting boundaries. When he says “instruction of the Lord,” of course, he’s talking about giving them faith, passing along belief in Jesus. We live in times where it’s fashionable or politically correct to “let the child choose.” In other words, we don’t want to tell them what is right and wrong; we think they should discover it on their own without any interference on our part. And that’s become true even when it comes to faith. We don’t want to “push them away” by “forcing them to come to church,” and so we just don’t. And instead, they walk away from the faith because they’ve never been given any instruction, any training. Paul would find the mindset we have today absolutely unbelievable. He would have grown up in a home where religious instruction was assumed. Parents—mothers in the early years and fathers later on—knew they were responsible for carrying on the traditions, the faith. Certainly, there comes a time when a child chooses to follow Jesus for themselves or not, but that time is not when they are young. To not bring them up in the faith, to not surround them with instruction in the Lord is to abdicate our responsibility as parents, and I believe we will be held accountable for that one day. There is a scene in the film Courageous that speaks to this. Let’s take a listen.

VIDEO CLIP: Courageous, “Better Father”

Now, I know there are some difficult situations. For one, divorces in which one parent has faith and the other doesn’t, or where they attend different churches makes faith instruction difficult. However, I want to say to you parents that you are only responsible for what you are able to do. So be faithful in bringing your children up in the Lord as much as you can. Live your faith in front of them, lead them in faith when you can, and pray like crazy. 

And then there are situations where abuse has happened, and that’s a shadow that follows us through our adult lives. How do we honor a parent who has abused us, whatever form that abuse took? Well, that’s a whole sermon by itself, but let me just say this very briefly: you find what you can honor in them and do that. It may be no more than a thankfulness that they gave you life. Or perhaps you can find good qualities you can affirm. Perhaps, as I know of in one situation, God stepped in and drove that person to their knees; it’s not that God caused the abuse, but in the midst of it, this person found a hopeful and healing presence through faith in Jesus Christ. Abuse situations need care, and often counseling, so that we can find ways to honor our parents, so that we can, even in the midst of pain and struggle, continue to live out “storge” love. I don’t know your situation, but God does, and I believe in a God who brings good out of everything, even when we can’t see it.

Find ways to encourage, not to tear down, and to do this well, you’ll need to know each other, to be able to speak their language. My children both came from Cathy and I, and yet they are very different. To encourage Rachel in the way I might encourage Christopher won’t work. I need to know them well enough to be able to speak their language. Same with our spouses, which we’ll talk about more in a couple of weeks. But here’s the deal: in what way can you encourage your family this week? Do the dishes. Take out the trash without being asked. Do someone else’s chores this week. Leave a note on their pillow or, if they are going somewhere, in their suitcase. Send a text when it’s not expected. And come to church as a family. Talk about what you learn, how God spoke to you during the service. It doesn’t matter how young they are; I guarantee they’re listening. And over everything else, make sure your family knows you have Ruth’s kind of commitment to them: “Where you go, I will go.” No matter what else happens, we are going to be together, and in the midst of a world that says otherwise, we are going to make it. Where you go, I will go.

I want to close by sharing with you one of my very best dad moments ever. Rachel was not born yet, and Christopher was somewhere between 2 and 3. He and I were in the kitchen at our house and making something—probably brownies that he had requested—and somehow the conversation got onto what he wanted to be when he grew up. So I was listing off several things that little boys typically want to be. “Do you want to be a fireman? A policeman? A doctor?” No, no, no. Everything was no. So I played along, and I asked, “Well, then, what do you want to be?” “I want to be just like you, Dad,” Christopher said. And do you know, at that moment, he could have asked me for anything and I would have done it or bought it. Thankfully, he was only 3 and didn’t know that. But that gave me hope. The only way we really know what kind of parents we have been is when we look at our children’s lives and see the good parts of ourselves reflected in them. When we see our faith shining through them, we can can give thanks for the “storge” love that brings us through it all. Where you go, I will go. Let’s pray for our families, shall we?