The One Campaign

Jeremiah 8.18-9.1

We drove out into the villages of Kampong Speu province in Cambodia. Our little Kia van called Grace carried us from the hustle and bustle of Phnom Phen with its markets and traffic, pavement and cinderblock buildings to the dirt roads and thatched houses of the province. We left the city and drove out into the rice fields along dirt roads the Buddhist monks built and maintained for alms. The roads narrowed until it felt like Grace was just teetering atop the mounded orange dirt.

As we got closer to the five villages with the five churches we were going to visit, the van passengers became quiet. The rice didn’t look right. After only two and a half weeks in Cambodia even we could tell it wasn’t right. It was supposed to be shoulder high. And it was supposed to have brown tassels at the top that pulled the thin, green stalks over with the heavy weight of the rice they promised. These stalks stood up straight at six inches tall. There were no brown tassels. There were hardly green stalks. We were looking at rice plants, but no rice.

We started firing questions at our Cambodian companions. Is the planting season different in the southwest of Cambodia than in the rest of the country? No. Did they plant their crop late? No. Was it bad rice that they planted? No. They had invested in the seed and tended the ground and planted the rice in plenty of time. The people had done what they could, but it hadn’t rained. The streams and rivers that they so ingeniously diverted to their fields for irrigation, had withdrawn to mere trickles, not enough to even convince to divert, much less fill the fields.

Finally, our little van, Grace, stopped on an impossibly small road next to a foot path. As we surveyed the land we saw vegetation and only the hint of thatched rooftops in the distance. We walked the rest of the way into the village where we were we received with the customary Cambodian greeting – welcome mixed with reticence, shy smiles and humble salutations. They were surprised by our just showing up without warning and not sure what to do with us. In different circumstances they might have offered us a bowl of rice and fish or a coconut to sip, but they had virtually nothing to offer.

We had heard of famine before. On our way to Kampong Speu we had even heard it bandied about in a way that I had thought was too casual. Famine is a significant word. It means wide-spread hunger and food shortage. Before I walked into that village that day, I had seen hunger and want, but I had never seen famine. That day we saw famine. We listened to village matriarch who told us that her greatest desire was to lay down and die. We looked into her eyes and saw her pain and also the suffering of her village, which she bore personally. We felt helpless in the face of their pain. In their despair, we despaired. Seeing their hurt, we hurt.

The people in Jeremiah’s time were despairing. We’ve heard for the last two weeks about how Israel was divided and then forced into exile. We’ve heard about how they have turned from God and relied on themselves. We’ve heard about the repercussions of their folly. Here in chapter eight we hear them cry out. They cry to Jeremiah the prophet and they cry to themselves, wallowing in their self-pity. They had so fully turned their backs on God that they could not even call out to God in sorrow. “Is the Lord not in Zion?” they bellowed, “Is her king not in her?” (19).

They bemoaned the poor harvest, which may have meant that there was actually a poor harvest. There may have been a drought or excessive heat. By the end of the summer the crops should have been ready to harvest. As autumn approached they should have been bringing in the cereal crops and storing them, but they have not gotten enough food to carry them through the winter. Their barns and their stores may have been empty. That would surely bring on despair.

But the poor harvest may have also been a metaphor for the difficulties they were experiencing. The people of Israel were supposed to have inherited a land flowing with milk and honey. They had journeyed for forty long years to inherit the land. They had demanded that God give them a king to have parity with the other nations around them, and yet their lives had not been made easy. They had not been allowed to enjoy the milk and the honey without work. They had not been protected from invasion. Their lives were made all the more difficult by their own poor choices. And now they struggled with their faith. And Jeremiah, their prophet struggled with them.

Jeremiah had witnessed their disobedience, but he had also seen the pain in their eyes. He had heard the hurt in the quaver of their voices. He had been with the people and known that they ached from the hunger of their bellies and from the hunger of their hearts and he, too ached with them. He cried out on their behalf.

There is an interesting thing that happens in this passage. It is hard to tell if it is all of a sudden in verse twenty-one, or if it has been going on throughout and we, hard of heart as we are, haven’t noticed. Somewhere along the way, we the readers come to realize that as we listen to Jeremiah’s lament on behalf of the people, we here another voice. We are hearing God’s own lament. Jeremiah has spoken to us as a prophet of the Lord for two weeks already and yet it is surprising when we realize that this lament is also the lament of God.

God sees the pain of the people and cries out, “For the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt, I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me” (21). Is there no Balm? Is there no salve? Is there no comfort they all cry out together – the people, Jeremiah, and God. God is not simply upset that the people have not obeyed. God is upset that the people are suffering. God didn’t want that to happen. God didn’t want the suffering to occur. It pains God that the people suffer, whether it is in the sixth century BCE or in the twenty-first century in the Current Era. So God laments their pain and bemoans their suffering.

Unfortunately suffering occurs. It’s part of our existence. It is part of the reality of not yet being united with God. It is part of being human that together we ache, we hurt, and we despair.

There is a unity in our suffering. And there is a unity in our restoration. There is a balm that is given to everyone. It is not withheld from a single person for any reason. There is no ‘in’ crowd. There are no ‘cool kids’. All are given the cool salve that can ease the pain of the most injured heart. That balm is the restoration we receive from Christ Jesus who strips away all of the things that we build up between God and ourselves renewing the relationship between God and people.

Paul says that there is one God. That is the God who hurts and mourns for us. God is the one God of all the people. And Paul says that God has given one mediator between God and humankind. That is Jesus Christ who gave himself so that all may live. One God, one Mediator, for the one people. We, humans, are together in our suffering and together in God’s saving grace.

So what? I mean, that’s great and all, but what does it mean for us? Does it mean that we have to travel to the other side of the world to witness suffering? Does it mean that when we see suffering, though our hearts might break, we take comfort in the fact that God’s heart is breaking, too, and walk away? Does it mean that when we feel suffering we should just dismiss it and brush it aside?

No, we the Church are called out of our pews and out of the doors, indeed, to see what suffering humans have wrought in the world. We have to witness that suffering and allow ourselves to be effected by it, but that is not all. The suffering cannot be left at that, as a dismissible fact of the human condition.

Where is the Church on Monday morning? Where is the Church on Thursday afternoon? Where is the Church in the ugly suffering of life? In the middle of the week, when we have left Sunday morning behind, the Church is us at our jobs. On Tuesday afternoon the Church is us as we finish the school day and wait in the carpool line.

There, in the world, where the Church is most of the week, we must witness to and join God’s work. That’s our job, to let people know that there is a balm in Gilead that is Jesus Christ our Lord. We must talk about and share the good news everyday, not just Sundays. Then it is our job to be the balm for the people – to offer comfort by being present with them. Being God’s visible presence of compassion in the world, that the task of the church.

Before our little van, Grace, carried us back to Phnom Phen, we held hand with the people of the village in Kampong Speu, and we offered prayers to God. We offered prayers of lament, crying out to God for help on their behalf. Our voices quavered and our eyes dampened as we demanded God’s attention there. The people of the village lifted up prayers, too, prayers of thanksgiving for having seen God’s presence that day in the visitors that came to them with such compassion and love. There around the circle we were one people, suffering one plight, receiving the one grace of Jesus Christ our Lord.

A Hot Wind Blowing In The Land

Jeremiah 4.11-12, 22-28

We’re back in the Old Testament book of Jeremiah this week. He is a prophet of God talking to the northern kingdom, to Judah. If you’ll recall, the people of Israel have divided into two kingdoms, Judah and Jerusalem. While we are more familiar with the name of Jerusalem, it was Judah with which the prophets were more interested and it was Judah that later persevered to become Israel again.

Jeremiah was a prophet. He spoke on behalf of God to God’s people. He delivered messages to them that they were unable or too busy to hear themselves. At the time the Judeans were trying to defend themselves from northern invaders. They were concerned with that time, the time in which they were living and not with God’s time. The people of Judah knew the invasion was coming, the prophet Jeremiah had told them that too. So they set about trying to defend themselves. They became focused on themselves, on their nation, and on their own needs. They failed to give proper credence to God. They failed to remember God’s presence with them throughout their history. They failed to rely on God.

To get their attention, a warm wind blew across the land and God sent Jeremiah to talk to the people. The words of God, spoken by Jeremiah, are words of lament. God does not desire for the people to be struck down, but they have forgotten that they are God’s people. They remember that they are Judah and that they must defend themselves from the outside threat. They remember that they used to be with Jerusalem and that together they crossed the Red Sea, but the people of Judah had forgotten that they were God’s people. They had forgotten about their relationship with God. The people did not do it out of malice. They did not think that it would be good to break away from God. They had just allowed their relationship with God dissolve over time.

Verse 22 uses a beautiful play on words. It says that the people do not know God, but they know how to do evil. It reads skilled in the translation that we use, the people are skilled at doing evil, but it is really the same word, to know. The people of God do not know God. They may remember that God was there. They may remember that God had helped them out in a couple of pinches in the past. They may remember that it is God who created the world, but they have forgotten to work on their relationship with God. They have forgotten that their God is not only one to be feared and one to be worshipped, but also one to know, one to work on getting to know. Instead of putting time into getting to know God, they have put time into developing their ability to do things that displease God – not out of being indignant, but out of apathy.

And the repercussions of the Judeans’ actions were widespread. It seemed to them that their actions impacted only themselves and their future. They were trying to build up their kingdom. They were trying to make it safe and convenient for the people of their nation. They were just trying to take care of themselves. It seemed as though their choices affected only them, but their choices were further reaching. They were very skillfully tearing down the world, which God had so carefully and thoughtfully created for them.

God looked upon the earth and it ceased to be the place that God had created. It was no longer the lush life-sustaining garden with a perfect and delicate balance of heat and cool and rain and dry. There was a warm wind blowing across the land. In place of the climate God had created was a land that was wasted of its resources. The dirt was depleted of its nutrients and the streams had dried. Where the sun had shone brightly, it was now hid from sight. The mountains shook and the hills moved to and fro. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, creation was being undone. The animals were ceasing to exist. The birds of the air were fleeing (v25) and the cities were being laid low.

Chaos was slowly let loose again like secrets slipping from Pandora’s Box. Chaos had been so carefully hemmed in by God, pushed back over the horizon as the world was created, yet the skillful hands of the people of God had let it loose again in the desecration of creation. The people did not think to themselves that it would be good to tear down all that God had built up. They were not that callous. It just sort of happened, over time. Things had begun to fall apart and they had become accustomed to it. They did it all as they were grasping at life, trying} to do what they could to preserve what they had.

It’s important to point out that God did not do this to the people. God did not cause the destruction. God did not tear apart the land or send the animals away. But did not God stop it from happening, either, which I find difficult to deal with. I want God to swoop in like a superhero and hold back the destruction that humanity has begun. I want God to hold back the warm wind that blows across the land, and restore the rivers and streams, but that is not what happens.

Instead, God sent the prophet Jeremiah to warn the people, to open their eyes. And God stood with Judah and watched the destruction happen. God remained by Judah’s side as the mountains trembled and the hills shook. God was right there waiting, waiting for Judah to just turn and reach out and ask for help. And Judah did not do it. So it builds and builds, the tension, the chaos, the destruction. What Judah has heaped upon itself increasing to the point where humanity cannot take it any more. What God has created has destroyed itself and the order has given way into waste and void…only, not yet.

In verse 27, God holds out that sparkle of hope we look for, that moment we anticipate in every difficult passage, that moment where God’s mercy reigns. As the freight train of destruction barrels down the abandoned track, God says through the prophet Jeremiah, “The whole land shall be a desolation; yet I will not make a full end.” God will not make a full end. God will not allow things to dissolve completely into waste and void. Judah had a pretty long way to go along down that abandoned track before God put on the emergency brake. They were almost at the end, about to derail; only God would not allow that to happen to the beloved people.

Instead, God says, the “earth shall mourn and the heavens above grow black; for I have spoken, I have purposed; I have not relented nor will I turn back” (v28). God will not turn back from God’s people and God will not allow creation to be completely destroyed. Even if the destruction comes from sinfulness, from waste and hate and greed God will not allow the sinfulness to rule in the end. Despite all of humanity’s best efforts God’s redemptive purpose for the people cannot ultimately be thwarted.[1]

There is a warm wind blowing across our land. Our earth, God’s gift to us of creation, is stressed by the way we live our lives. We are skilled at making our lives easy. We live lives based on individuality and convenience. That means that we tend not to rely on one another and we tend not to rely on God. Though God is standing by waiting for us just to turn and reach out and ask for help, we do not turn, we do not reach, we do not ask. But God is there, just the same, waiting for us.

After many years of preaching that the earth and all its resources were gifts of God that had been given for humanity to use completely, the Evangelicals have changed their stance. Over the last year, Christians on the far right have done an amazing thing and reached across the political divide to environmentalists. The evangelicals have been moved by God and have reformed their understanding of the purpose of God’s creation. They say it is not just for God’s people now, but also for God’s people extending out into the future. It is a radical shift in a relatively short period of time, but they felt the warm wind on their cheeks, and recognized God in it and God’s desire for us to care for creation and one another. Even though we do not have to act in order for God’s redemption to be given to the world, God still desires for us to act, for us to turn toward God, for us to turn toward one another.

There is a warm wind blowing across the land and it is God’s presence with us, God beckoning to us to change our ways to be the stewards we were called to be in the Garden of Eden, to care for our world and one another and to know God.
[1] Texts For Preaching: Year C. p507.

Refashioned

Jeremiah 18.1-11

Jeremiah, a prophet of God, spoke to the people of Israel at a time when they were divided and in exile. Israel was in two parts, Jerusalem (the southern kingdom), and Judah (the northern kingdom). The people of God had divided from themselves and when they divided, they lost their strength. They were no longer strong against the nations that wanted to overtake them, so they were ousted from the land they had been promised so long ago by God, and they went into exile. They were separated from their land and from the place that God had given them to be together. The people of God were feeling lost in an unfamiliar place and they were bending to pressure around them.

Jeremiah was sent to them to proclaim the message of God. His job was to tell them what God wanted them to know. In today’s scripture passage, God wanted Jeremiah not only to talk with the people, but also God wanted him first to see a potter at work so that he could understand what God was saying. Jeremiah went to the potter’s house and watched the potter work.

Have you ever worked with clay? It always looks so easy to see someone else do it. On the potter’s wheel the clay seems to respond immediately and gracefully to the potter’s every move. With agile hands, the potter draws the dark, wet earth up from a slab into a tower and then drops a hand down into the middle to hollow out an inside. The clay becomes a pot that curves out to form a big belly of a wall or in slightly to create a concave arc.

But there is some skill involved. The clay is not immediately ready to form a pot. When it is dug out of the ground near a stream bed, or out of a tightly-sealed bucket, the clay is not ready to respond to the potter’s hand. First the clay must be worked. It has to be turned over and over in the potter’s hands, which warm and loosen the clay with every touch. It is turned in on itself and pulled out another way. It can take time to work with the clay so that it will be receptive to the potter’s touch.

Then it is placed on the wheel. Slowly, as the wheel is turned, the potter balances the clay upon the wheel, centers it in the space so that it will not wobble as the speed of the wheel increases. Only after so much attention has been given to the clay, does the potter begin to draw the clay up into a pot. And then, as likely as not, the pot will fall in on itself. Dark earth returning to dark earth. Fragile walls falling back into the mud pack. But the clay is not lost. It is not tossed aside as unresponsive and useless clay. The clay is given another chance. The potter begins again, with the same clay folding it in on itself, balancing it on the wheel.

Gently, gently, the potter pulls up the sides of the pot. Tenderly, taking care to pay attention to it, the potter urges the clay to stretch and grow beyond its natural desire to remain in the river bed into a useful and gorgeous vessel.

After Jeremiah had seen the potter work, he could tell the people of God what God intended for them. God intended to build them up. God wanted to tend to the people and work with them, to soften them and mold them and draw them up into a beautiful vessel. The people of Israel were up to their old tricks. They were disregarding God and choosing to go their own way instead of in God’s way. But even though they were being willful and stubborn, even though they were turning from God and cared only about their own opinions, even though their actions said everything except that they loved God, God was not willing to toss them aside.

Those stubborn people were God’s people. They were Israel with whom God had made a covenant that said that God would be with them and help them and protect them. God could have chosen to start all over like with Noah and the ark, but instead, like a potter with clay on a wheel, God chose to refashion Israel. The Israel that was built back up was made of the very same clay with which it had been fashioned before. Nothing had changed about the clay with which God was working. It was all the same people. It was the same group. Things were just going to be a little different now.

The clay was the same, but the way it looked when it was all put together was different. God desired something else for Israel and God helped them to build it up. Israel was refashioned into something more pleasing to God and better for themselves. Refashioned they were stronger.

It’s not so hard to see that we at Dickey Memorial are clay with which God works. We are very old clay that has been worked and reworked by God for one hundred and thirty years. New people are incorporated into our community and the clay is reworked to form our community again, only more beautifully, more fully. When people visit they speak of how warm we are and how caring. People notice not only the beauty of our church building, but also the beauty of the people of our church. And that does not change. The people of the church are the clay that God fashions and refashions into useful vessels.

This coming year is an exciting and, perhaps, perplexing time for our church. We are in the process of refashioning. We are trying to listen to God’s desire for us and to allow ourselves to be molded by God’s will for us. We watch our church rise upon the potter’s wheel in a new way beneath God’s hands. Though some things may look different we are only being refashioned. We are not reconstituted wholly new.

Our community stays the same. What is fundamentally us is the same. We remain a loving family who is always ready to welcome a new member. We remain caring disciples who look beyond ourselves and our doors to tend God’s sheep. We remain a curious group of people who desire to experience God together in fellowship and worship.

We gather around this table together to proclaim the unity of the church, to proclaim the grace of God that has drawn us together, to proclaim the forgiveness that washes over each of us equally. Though our Sunday morning may look different, we are fundamentally the same church that God has drawn together for so long and tended so lovingly.

Like the Israelites we need only to respond together to God’s guiding hand to be built in to the beloved community God desires for us to be.