Good News, or Bad?

When Mark says “ripped apart”, he is using a variation of the Greek word schizo, as in our word schizophrenic.” What Mark is saying is that there is this curtain hanging between earth and heaven and when Jesus was baptized, schizo, it was ripped open and you could see into heaven. That means that we can see God because of the baptism of Jesus, we can get to God.”

The quiet kid, just staring at the prof, blurted out, “That isn't what it means.”

The prof was a little irritated at the 7^th grader and said, “Oh really? Well then, what does it mean?”

“It doesn't mean that we can get to God by ourselves,” the kid said.

It means that God can get to us; and no one or no thing is safe here from the voice and word of God.”

The kid had it right, a far better answer than the prof.

It is not about us and our puny accomplishments; it is about God,

and the gifts he offers to us.

I have good news and bad, and ironically both good and bad are the same news: The Lord is coming.

The Lord rips open the division between heaven and earth and is come among us.

Which way do we hear that message: as good or as bad news?

Each of us is engaged in our own little empire-building.

Whether it worrying how one will pay for the next semester, or worrying about the investments that just took a nosedive...

whether our concern is family relationships or the punk on the playground,...

it is all about me, my comfort, my desires, my ease.

Half of the persons waiting in Jesus' story thought like that, and they were wrong.

The other half were prepared, were ready for action, whenever it would be needed.

They recognized that life was not about themselves, but about the One who is coming, the celebration of that One's arrival, the joy of his presence,...

and what they can do because of it.

For the ones waiting in Jesus' story, the task was lighting the way for the celebration.

What will it be for each of us?

God will break in,

God is breaking in,

God has broken in...

Are we ready for action?

For the people of the village of Le Chanbon in France during WWII, the call to action came through their pastor's sermon.

He said, “One day Jesus will come into your life and ask you to do something just for him.”

And that day the Nazis came looking for Jews,

and the people of the village knew what they had to do.

They were prepared.

They hid their Jewish neighbors in basements and under chicken-coops, and not one was given over to the Nazis.

Maybe your test won't be as dramatic as that, but God will break in and expect things from us.

Perhaps God will barge in when a friend or relative is visiting you,

so that after the Saturday evening festivities you know that you need to say, “I'll be going to worship tomorrow morning. You are most welcome to come along...or you can sleep in... and we will pick up our activities when I return.”

Perhaps it will happen one day while you are engaged in your own pursuits and the pastor or staff member or committee chair asks

“would you share your life and faith with a class next month?,

or would you help me serve a meal to a bereaved family tomorrow?,

or would you sit with John as he waits anxiously in the hospital,

or when the pastor alerts you that it will be a difficult visit when you take the sacrament to a particular person.

None of these are comfortable things, none of them are about us, but rather they are about the Good Word that Jesus wants to get spoken in the world.

So, what are we doing here this morning? At least one of our purposes is to be training for that time when God breaks into our individual routines and asks us to do something just for him.

And so we make sure that a visitor has a bulletin and knows what happens in worship.

We offer the sacrament to those who come to the rail, and now and again to ones who can't walk that far, and to ones who are stuck at home.

We share the greeting of the Peace of the Lord with friends and also with those who are not yet friends.

We have ushers ready to respond when we have a physical emergency, which gladly does not happen often.

We share in the leadership of the various parts of the service, etc.

All sorts of things to remind us that it is to God's purposes we are attending.

A man said, “I feel like I've been preparing for this all my life.

All that sitting in church, listening to sermons, Bible reading...

All of that was getting me ready for the hardest day of my life.

It was like disaster training.

Now the disaster has come; my spouse has died,

but I know that I am as prepared as I can be for what God asks of me next.”

Worship as a training session... that is a good idea for us to keep in mind.

And we're not just talking about a purely future event, for the Lord God is busy breaking in each time we gather at the communion rail.

Touto estin to soma mou, Jesus says, This is my body. This is me.

This is the Lord of the final Resurrection coming among us right now, to call us to walk his way.

This is the Lord intruding, to transform one more corner of our lives and our relationships with others.

The Lord is coming.

Do you hear this as good news or bad?

The more self-centered we are, the worse it sounds.

The more ready, the more prepared we are, the more attuned we are to hear his voice, the better it sounds.

Come, Lord, Jesus, quickly come! Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.