John Mark Hicks

Guest Sermon post by Becky Frazier

Texts: Luke 1:46-55; Psalm 126; John 1:6-8, 19-28; Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11.

This week, we gather to celebrate the third week of advent. The meaning of advent is the arrival of something or someone important. And during these four weeks leading up to Christmas, Christians around the world practice the discipline of waiting, of anticipating, of holy longing for the arrival of Christ. We light one candle, and then another and another until the whole wreath is full of light. We count down the 25 days leading up to Christmas with advent calendars full of treats like chocolate or if you go to Costco, even things like cheese, wine, and jellies. 

We decorate our houses while listening to a Christmas playlist. We buy gifts and wrap them, placing them under the tree, adding to the joyful anticipation and excitement of finally getting to open them on Christmas morning. We sing songs about hope, peace, joy, and love. During advent, we practice waiting. As we reenact the awaiting and arrival of Immanuel, God with Us, Christ, the Messiah into the world each year, we also acknowledge that we are a people still waiting as we anticipate his return. He has come and he will come again. We are a people who wait. 

I think all of our texts this week point to this kind of waiting. The kind of waiting that takes a lot of faith. The kind of waiting where you don’t know how long it will be. Or what it will really ultimately end up like. 

Isaiah 61 written to a people leaving exile, a people who had waited for home for a long time. And now they continue to wait for God to be faithful to his promise to send a messiah and usher in a new garen and a new Jerusalem. 

In Mary’s song we find Mary waiting for the arrival of the child that was growing inside her, perhaps no bigger than a peanut at this time.  But she is also waiting the fulfillment of God’s promise “The promise he made to our fathers, *to Abraham and his children for ever.”

In our gospel reading John the baptizer shares about the coming of one greater than him. He is not the one they are waiting for, but he is preparing the way for the one to come. The wait is almost over. 

And our Epistle shares what to do in the midst of waiting. Rejoice, pray, hold fast. “The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do this.”

I don’t know about you, but waiting isn’t really my favorite thing. Around Christmas, waiting to get to open presents is fun, but waiting for word back from the doctor is not. Waiting for a job to open up when we don’t have one is stressful. Waiting for our marriage to get better or for finances to not be so tight for our house to sell or for a loved one to be reconciled to us is painful and anxiety producing. In seasons of waiting, when we don’t know what is next, when we can’t plan for the future because we don’t know what to expect the waiting is difficult and stressful. We know that Jesus was born into the world. We read about it and his life and his ministry and his death and his resurrection. We celebrate it each Christmas time. So the wait is easy. December 25th will come and go as it always does and every year it seems to come more quickly.  But waiting for his return might be a bit harder for us. At least it is for me. 

Isaiah and Mary tell us about what the kingdom of heaven will be like. What the new Jerusalem will be like. What new creation will have in store. It’s liberty to the captives. It’s comfort to the brokenhearted. It’s help for the hurting. Hope for the oppressed. And food for the hungry. It’s justice and righteousness and a new garden and a new city where shalom, love, and mercy reign. 

And I look around us and I see war in Ukraine and Palestine and South Sudan. Civilians and women and children killed and hospitals the target of bombs. I look at the fact that one in ten people in our city struggle with food insecurity and the fact that 25,000 people around the world die of hunger every single day. I look at the gun violence that is rampant in our nation and the racism and misogyny that seem to grow unchecked. I see a badly broken prison system more focused on retribution and satiating corporate greed than on restoration and justice. I see friends and loved ones hurting from infertility, loss of loved ones, illness, domestic violence, messy divorces. It seems like everywhere we turn we are face to face with all of the terrible things that people can do to each other and the brokenness of the world that we live in. 

We are still waiting. Waiting for war to end. Waiting for sickness to end. Waiting for oppression to end. Waiting for violence to end. Waiting for all to be made right.  Waiting on the church to get it together and be who Jesus called us to be. If I’m not careful, the waiting can turn to despair and hopelessness, to resignation or to rage.  

I wonder if the reason that the church has intentionally set aside one whole month out of every year to practice waiting is so that we can learn together what sort of people we are to be when we wait. The kind of waiting we are called to is an active participation. Not something passive that is happening to us. Something that we are victims of. We wait with hope.  With the arrival of Christ, the kingdom of God is now here, it is at hand. We can reach out and touch it and catch glimpses of it in thin spaces here and there. Advent is our yearly opportunity to relearn how to wait. 

As we wait for a kingdom of peace, we practice anew being a people of peace.  As we sang last week :Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”  We practice forgiving even when it seems impossible. We turn the other cheek. We reject war and terrorism and violence in all of its forms. We assume the best about others and are quick to offer grace. We let that car merge for goodness sake! 

As we wait for a time when suffering ceases, we seek to be a people who ease suffering wherever we can. We give a cup of cold water. We share our food. We comfort the broken hearted and do what we can to not inflict suffering on anyone else. Taking care in the things we buy and the way we respond to our servers and baristas. We take food to those who had surgery and remind those who have suffered loss that they are not alone.  

As we await a kingdom where the proud are scattered and the lowly are lifted up and justice prevails, we refuse to align ourselves with the kingdoms of this world.  We don’t seek wealth or power or privilege because that is no kind of currency in the kingdom of heaven.  Instead, we welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and offer hospitality to the unhoused.

We wait but as we wait, we participate. Perhaps this double meaning of advent, the remembrance of the waiting for the birth of Christ while we also sit with the reality that we are still waiting for Christ occurs together to remind us that the one we are waiting on can be trusted. God has been faithful to his promises and always will be and nothing represents this more fully than God-enfleshed, Immanuel, the infant born in a manger, fully human and fully god. God has promised us that he would dwell with us and that he would save us and in Jesus God has done what he promised he would do. We are not waiting from a posture of crossing our fingers and hoping for the best. We wait with assurance that the God who revealed himself to us in Christ is the kind of God that he says he is. One who is trustworthy. One who is kind. One who is faithful. One who longs to be with us. One who is loving and who is love itself. 

Many times in scripture this waiting is likened to a woman in the  midst of childbirth. When a woman is with child, the baby is both here and not here yet. Something is happening. Something is growing. There is evidence of that in a fluttering feeling and a stomach growing larger, almost imperceptibly at first. And in the meantime, there is work to be done to prepare. To get a nursery ready to welcome a child home. To pick a name. To buy clothes and toys and diapers and all the things babies need. To adjust life and schedules for this new season. 

And there is work that must happen in the body – a metamorphosis into mother – ready for birth and then the task of nourishing and feeding her child. My understanding is that none of this is comfortable to say the least and some parts are incredibly painful. There are backaches and swollen feet and doctors appointments where you have to drink gross stuff and sleepless nights and kicks to the ribs. And that’s before the actual birth. But the joy and the love and the sheer wonder of new life is worth it all. 

What better image at Christmastime is there for the coming of the Christ. And so we wait. And we prepare. We ready the world. We ready ourselves. Because God is faithful to God’s promises and a new creation is waiting for us. May you wait with hope, with peace, with joy, and with love. 

Book Recommendations by John Mark Hicks

I have been doing a lot of reading in this area for years and much more recently. In fact, the first week in October I finished the definitive history of the October 1974 war between Israel and Egypt in the south, and between Syria and Israel in the north. The book was Abraham Rabinovich, The Yom Kippur War: The Epic Encounter That Transformed the Middle East (Penguin Random House, 2017).

If you have an additional suggestions, as this is certainly not an exhaustive list or even necessarily the best books on the topic, feel free to add another or more in the comments.

 General Historical Introduction up to 2019.

Dov Waxman, The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: What Everyone Needs to Know (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019). Intentionally balanced and as about as objective as one can achieve.

Scholarly History of Palestine up to 2022.

Ilan Pappe, A History of Modern Palestine, 3^rd edition (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2022). Engages scholarly literature, details the history of Palestine, critiques both Palestinian and Israeli narratives, and provides critical assessment of key historical events and peacemaking attempts.

Contemporary Reflection on “Land” in Current Theological/Political Context.

Walter Brueggemann, Chosen? Reading the Bible amid the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2015). Drawing on both Israeli and Palestinian peace advocates, he critiques both “promised land” ideology and violence in the land, particularly focused on the militarization of the state of Israel. He discourages the use of the Bible as a direct support for the state of Israel and their inheritance as belonging to that state “forever.”

From the Jewish Perspective.

Yossi Klein Halevi, Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor (San Francisco: Harper, 2018). This Israeli author uses personal experience, history, and ethnic identity to describe what it is like to live in Israel. Often empathizing with Palestinians, he defends the need for a morally responsible and democratic state as a Jewish homeland in the Middle East.

Palestinian Perspective on Reading the Bible.

Mirei Raheb, Faith in the Empire: The Bible Through Palestinian Eyes (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2014). If you want to understand how Palestinian Christians see the conflict in the light of the Bible, this is probably the best book. He seeks peace from the conflict.

History of Zionist Settlement in Palestine.

Rashid Khalidi, Hundred Year’s War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (Picador Paper, 2021). Written from a Palestinian perspective, this book tells the story of Zionist settlement enabled by 20th century Western empires. It recognizes the mistakes by both Palestinians and Jewish settlers. It is a dispute about land, not religion or ethnicity.

Biblical Theology of Land in the Light of Jesus.

1. Gary M. Burge, Jesus and the Land: The New Testament Challenge to “Holy Land” Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2010). He denies that Christian Zionism is consistent with New Testament biblical theology. The promises that belong to Abraham belong to all those who trust in the Jewish Messiah, Jesus.
2. O. Palmer Robertson, Israel of God: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow (Philipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing, 2000).  He argues that Abrahamic promise is fulfilled through the Messiah in the Church, who is the Israel of God (Gentiles grafted into Israel), and, consequently, the state of Israel has no perpetual claim to the land they inhabit.
3. Darrell L. Bock and Mitch Glaser, eds., The People, the Land, and the Future of Israel: Israel and the Jewish People in the Plan of God (Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 2014). Multi-author work which covers the major concerns of those who propose Israel still has a future in the land, perhaps including the state of Israel, and, at the same time, seeking peace in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

This lesson is based on Ephesians 4:1-16, delivered at the Northwest Christian Convention in Turner, OR, on July 30, 2023.

This is lesson was delivered at the Northwest Christian Convention in Turner, Oregon, on June 28, 2023.

The message is based on Ephesians 1:3-14.

Text: Matthew 9:9-17

Jesus uses Hosea 6:6 to critique the criticism of some who objected to his eating with “tax collectors and sinners.”

The point? Jesus pursues mercy for the sake of healing, and this is at the heart of kingdom living. It is pouring new wine into wineskins.

I have now read the fifth of twelve books suggested by FB friends. This one was recommended by Michael Asbell. This is my summary.

David Moffitt, Rethinking the Atonement: New Perspectives on Jesus’s Death, Resurrection, and Ascension (Grand Rapids: BakerAcademic, 2022).

While the term “atonement” is most often used to describe the cross of Jesus as the focus of God’s atoning activity, Moffitt suggests that “atonement” is more inclusive than the cross itself.  Rooting his argument in the homily we know as Hebrews, the work of atonement involves not only the cross but Christ’s resurrection and ascension.  God reconciled the world through the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus the Messiah. This is a more wholistic picture. I have argued this myself in several places (including in this summary, though I don’t have an emphasis on ascension that belongs in this picture as well).

Moffitt argues that Hebrews, while proclaiming the death of Christ as the sacrificial slaughter for our sins, focuses more attention on the ascension of the resurrected Christ into God’s holy sanctuary to present the blood offering and to take up residence in that holy space as the high priest who presently and continually intercedes for the saints. His point is that in addition to the cross, the resurrection and ascension of Jesus are “themselves fully and robustly salvific” (p. 5). All of these events in the life of Jesus are atoning. God saved us through the death of Christ “but even more by rising, ascending, and now interceding for them at the right hand of the Father” (p. 6).

Hebrews patterns the work of Christ on the model of the Levitical sacrificial system, though Christ is actually the archetype and Leviticus is the type.  The sacrifices were slaughtered, the blood was poured at the altar, and then the blood was taken into the most holy place and sprinkled on the ark of the covenant. Through the blood offering, the high priest interceded for the people.

The preacher in Hebrews understands the work of Christ in this way. Jesus is slaughtered on the cross and poured out at that altar, but then the resurrected Jesus ascends to the most holy place (the heavenly sanctuary) to present the offering before God. As high priest, Jesus remains in the presence of God to intercede for the people. Though Jesus could not be a priest on earth because he was from Judah and not Levi, he is a priest in the heavenlies according to the order of Melchizedek continually interceding for the people. In this way, Christ’s atoning work continues in the presence of God, and Christ is present to God as the embodied resurrected Messiah, our high priest. Consequently, the church lives with confident boldness as it journeys through the wilderness of life because it knows that its heavenly high priest stands before God as its intercessor.

Typically, the cross is understood as the singular place where Jesus offered himself as a bloody sacrifice and on the cross presented himself to the Father. Moffitt, based on Hebrews as well as a few other texts, wants to understand those two movements in a sequence. Christ first shed his blood on the cross and thus offered himself as one who bears the sins of the people, and then the resurrected Christ offered himself in the heavenly sanctuary when he ascended to the heavenly sanctuary. Hebrews teaches “Jesus is the one who died as the sacrifice, rose as the sacrifice, and ascended into the heavenly tabernacle to offer himself to God as the sacrifice” (p. 65).

Moffitt rejects claims that Jesus is the object of divine wrath. The function of the shedding of blood is not about turning away God’s wrath. Rather, the sacrifice suffers the covenant curses for the people, and so did Jesus. He suffered as a representative in solidarity and identification with the people. Jesus was the obedient representative of the people who renewed Israel’s covenant with God through the sin-bearing function of his death, and gave this renewed covenant eternal meaning through the presentation of his offering in the heavenly sanctuary as an eternal high priest, the resurrected Jesus, the Son of God.

While the Son came to earth to bear sins (as in bearing them away), he will come again without sin and for full salvation. The work of reconciliation (or atonement) is not done until Christ returns and fully deals with sin in all its consequences.

Through the lens of Hebrews, Moffitt’s book is a welcome acknowledgement that atonement is a fuller concept than simply the work of Jesus on the cross. Jesus is both victim and priest, both sin-bearer and intercessor, both the offering and the offeror.  

The atoning, or reconciling, work of God in Christ by the Spirit is the full story of the gospel: incarnation, life, cross, resurrection, ascension, intercession, and return.   

Texts: Acts 1:6-8; 2:16-21, 37-41

Days 56-58 in Around the Bible in Eighty Days.

The prophet Joel promised Israel, who at the time was suffering a great national tragedy, a time when God would restore its fortunes. They would never again be same and all who called on the name of the Lord would be saved (Joel 2:25-3:1).

Peter announced in Acts 2, “This is what was spoken through the prophet Joel” (Acts 2:16). Whatever was happening on the day of Pentecost in Acts 2 was a moment to which Joel pointed. It was the beginning of the restoration of Israel.

The question the disciples asked in Acts 1:6-8 about the time when God would restore Israel was not a bad question. They were, however, too anxious about the timing. Jesus told them to wait, and the Spirit would come. When the Spirit came, the restoration of Israel began.

Just as Joel foretold, God poured out the Spirit upon Israel through the newly enthroned Messiah. This pouring, however, was not limited to an individual or even to a specific group. Rather, it was poured out on “all flesh,” including Jew and Gentile, women and men, and enslaved and free. On that day, the Spirit testified to the reality of the kingdom secured at the right hand of God by the resurrected Jesus.

Just as God had gathered Israel at Mount Sinai, so now God gathered renewed Israel at Mount Zion. Through repentance and baptism, they became a newly gathered people who would continue the mission of Israel as a light to the nations. And they would inherit the promise God made to Abraham–experienced through the gift of the Spirit—to continue and purse that mission by scattering missional communities devoted to Jesus across the world.

“Revival” is sometimes used quite specifically, and at other times it is used rather broadly. It can mean anything from one’s own personal spiritual awakening to the impact of a culture-shaping movement of God across churches, regions, and even nations (e.g., the First Great Awakening). It can also refer to a spontaneous local congregational event (e.g., Jonathan Edwards in 1734-35), a planned series of meetings across several congregations (e.g., Cane Ridge was one in a series of communion festivals in 1801 Kentucky), or a spontaneous movement of congregations in a region (e.g., Welsh Revival in 1904-5).

The word can refer to many different things depending on who is using it, and it means something a bit different in different traditions and contexts. This is one reason we see some back-and-forth in social media about the significance of the Asbury “revival.”

In the present moment, I think we can discern three sorts of revivalistic practices or experiences that are linked to historic traditions within Christianity. I do not intend for the list below to restrict overlapping or expansive practices, and neither is it exhaustive. The distinctions are often fluid, but there are discernible traditions. These generalizations may be somewhat unfair as a typology, though it does offer a way of seeing a bigger picture.

1. One stream focuses on conversions, and this is strong in Presbyterian and Baptist traditions (especially in the 1700-1800s). Generally, these revivals focused on preaching, teaching, and convicting sinners and/or nominal Christians for the sake of their authentic conversion. This was often the function of protracted meetings or Gospel Meetings among Stone-Campbell congregations, and often they were intended to plant a congregation. Conversion (often including rededication) was the focus, and the preaching of the Word was the primary means.

2. Another stream focuses on igniting the fire of holy living, and this is primarily the concern of the Holiness Movement (1850s and beyond). Generally, these revivals focused on deep contrition, repentance, mourning, fasting until awakened by the Spirit through intimacy and encounter. The primary manifestation of this intimacy was expressed in worship and holding on to that presence. This is similar to what we are seeing at Asbury, whose roots are in the Wesleyan Holiness tradition. Sanctification was the focus, and worship was the primary means.

3. Another stream is represented by Classic Pentecostalism (1900s-1920s). Because Pentecostalism, at least in its origins, is closely linked to the Holiness Movement, much of what is present in Holiness revivals is also there in Pentecostalism. However, it is more expectant that the outcome will be speaking in tongues, miracles, and extraordinary expressions of the Spirit. These will result not only in personal and communal awakening but also serve the mission of God as a witness to their neighbors. Sanctification was the focus, and the tangible presence of God through extraordinary gifts was the evidence.

I am grateful for the Asbury revival. It is a rather classic example of Holiness Revivalism. That does not mean everything is simply psychological as if manufactured by the human spirit. God is no mere spectator when God’s people assemble. Quite the contrary, it appears (I can only speak from a distance) God has come to Asbury in the mode in which Asbury’s tradition is both seeking and expecting, and God is gracious.

Revivals are traditioned. They exist within traditions (as the three types outlined above indicate). There are historical precedents and models. They do not easily transcend the traditions in which they are nurtured and practiced. That does not make them bad or inauthentic, just different. One is no more “revivalistic” than the other as all of them experience spiritual awakening through their traditions, habits, and practices. God uses all these traditions, and the Spirit is the active agent in all the good fruit they produce.

These different traditions, however, are helpful to the body of Christ due to the different circumstances, personalities, cultures, etc. present in the world. We need all kinds for all kinds of people. Ultimately, what we need, however, is the work of the Spirit in our hearts and communities.

In addition, the historic church–the liturgical tradition, in particular–has not generally been regarded as revivalistic in the modern sense of that term (especially in light of the evangelical revivals of the 17th-20th centuries). Nevertheless, it seems to me, that the goal of revivals is present in liturgical contexts as well.

If the assembly is a moment where we encounter God, and the Spirit is active there to form people into the image of Christ, liturgy is also a means that the Spirit uses. This is most particularly true of the sacraments, which are not typically the focus of evangelical revivalism (with some notable exceptions, like Wesley himself). Yet, God is able to revive the soul and community through its assemblies for worship, sacraments, and service to God.

“Revival” comes in many ways but always by the Spirit of God. Authentic revival transforms. This can happen in a recovery group, a small group Bible study, a coordinated Gospel Meeting (e.g., Hardeman Tabernacle Sermons in the 1920s Nashville), chapel services, or churches.

Though initiated and led by the Spirit (since only the Spirit can sanctify us), revivals have traditions and traditioned practices. There is nothing wrong with that.

However, we must be careful that we don’t make a particular tradition of “revival” a one size fits all, or assume a particular tradition of “revival” is more authentic than another. Instead, let us celebrate every way in which the Spirit encounters us and give thanks for the fruit the Spirit bears in our lives and in the lives of others, even if it comes through different practices, traditions, and settings.

Sola Dei Gloria

Thoughts in Light of the Asbury “Revival”

On February 8, a rather routine chapel service at Asbury University developed into a continuous worship and nonstop prayer meeting where God has responded to the prayers for inner healing, deliverance, forgiveness, and reconciliation. According to what I’ve been told and the reports I have read, this continuous assembly of worship is student-led and is primarily worship in song with occasional testimonies and brief lessons from Scripture. An ordinary student chapel service grew into a “revival.” (I don’t use “revival” in a technical sense but in the sense of an awakening, a transformative encounter with God.)

I understand the skeptical voices; I can sense that in myself as well. Should not revival mean the poor have good news preached to them, the oppressed are liberated, and people are treated fairly and with dignity? Some might suggest that is true revival (or true fasting, to use Isaiah’s language in chapter 58). Others might insist that revival only comes through the preaching of the Word so that hearts are convicted by the gospel. Nevertheless, I think people assembled to love on God and receive God’s love is the most basic form (perhaps the starting point) of revival.

It is a both/and. Revival gatherings like the one at Asbury are means of grace through which God works for transformation. And they are invitations to embrace the whole mission of Jesus, including sharing Jesus with others, caring for the sick, sharing resources with the poor, and advocating for justice.

In my understanding, God is doing something every time believers assemble, whether in chapel, campground, home, or a church building—no matter where they assemble.  Every assembly has the seed of revival because of God’s own initiative. When the people of God gather to seek God’s face, God is present. God has promised an active loving presence, though sometimes that loving presence becomes a word of confrontation with those who use the assembly as a “den of robbers” (Jeremiah 7:11).

When we approach assembly as a “den of robbers” (“we are God’s people,” so it doesn’t matter whether our lives are transformed), or as a pep rally (we are here to pump you up and create a spiritual high for you as if this were a concert), or as mere duty (part of checklist to avoid Hell), then we miss the fundamental meaning of assembling. What is that? When we assemble as a community in the Spirit, God is present for us, with us, and in us to encounter (meet) us for the sake of communion with God and each other as well as the transformation of our lives into the image of Christ.

The assembly gathers as a community of believers to love on God, and God loves on us. More accurately, God takes the initiative by calling us and gathering us into assembly to love on us, and we respond to God by loving on God and each other. This circle of love, a mutually indwelling love from the Father through Son by the Spirit, is the most significant and fundamental dynamic within the assembly, though it is often scarred by pettiness, hatred, exclusion, and discrimination. The circle of love, however, is the dynamic that drives revival or awakening when we experience it.

God transforms us through encounter, which may come with a tangible sense of God’s presence, a quiet spirit, or many other descriptors. The Spirit of God is always active when we are assembled, creating space in our hearts to know God. We may experience this inwardly through mourning, repenting, lamenting, rejoicing, or praising. We experience this communally as believers share prayers, longings, songs, testimonies, Scriptures, and the Lord’s table. We are transformed by the work of God’s Spirit within us and among us. This inner revival is a gift we receive with gratitude.

An authentic encounter with the loving and holy God also calls us into the life of God. We are invited to participate in the communion of Triune God where there is shalom. Many seek peace and security in other things, including sex, drugs, consumerism, alcohol, nationalism among many other things. The high levels of anxiety in Western culture create a deep need for encounter with transcendence. A worshipping assembly can be an occasion for such an encounter. I know have experienced it many, many times. This is, in part, what many see in the work of God at Asbury—an anxious generation seeking peace in God’s love.

Moreover, an encounter with the loving and holy God calls into God’s mission. When we experience God’s transforming grace and holiness, our response is not only gratitude but participation in the mission of God. With Isaiah, we say, “Here I am! Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8). This mission is wholistic, including not only leading others to that encounter but also sharing shalom with others through hospitality, generosity, and advocacy. If revival stops with inner renewal (as wonderful a moment as that is), it fizzles out without the embrace of God’s mission. The embers of revival will die out without participation in God’s mission. This calls for endurance and persistence.

I am not a skeptic of revivals because I believe assembly is one place where God has promised to revive us. At the same time, I do apply discernment and wisdom (as best I can) to give thanks for the good fruit and to identify the bad fruit. Though God is present in every assembly, we are still human beings, and human beings bring with them not only their genuine search for God but also their self-interested baggage, including their consumeristic expectations.

What we yearn for, I hope, is a moment to genuinely bring our hearts before God and for God to transform our self-interested, consumeristic baggage into the image of the Son, both in communion with God and on mission with God.

That is my prayer every time I gather with the people of God, and when God does something more surprising than I imagine, I hope to receive it without deconstructing it.

[Sermon begins at the 55 minute mark.]

How do you persuade a wealthy congregation in Corinth to share their resources with an impoverished and ethnically different group of people in Jerusalem almost 1,000 miles distant?

When they shared from their resources with the Jerusalem believers, Paul wrote, they would “glorify God by [their] obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ” (2 Corinthians 9:13). But Paul did not command them to share (2 Corinthians 8:8). Rather, he probed whether they truly believed the story of God in Christ.

If they believe that they have been made rich by the grace of God’s Son, who though being rich became poor for our sakes, then the Corinthians should share their blessings with those who are poor (2 Corinthians 8:9-10).

In other words, the Corinthians were not commanded to obey a rule, but invited to participate in the story of God. And when they participated, they would then obey the gospel (or conform themselves to the image of Christ).