For what are you hungry? Can you
imagine the cruelty of going up to young Jesus, having gone 40 days without a
square meal, and tempting him with his favorite foods? Or, just with a loaf of
bread?
Bread was the primary food in biblical lands, like rice to Asians, and the
Devil’s temptation, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to turn into a
loaf,” would have been a real temptation.
You’ll have to agree. The Devil has it right. The Devil knows what God can
do. The Devil recognizes God’s power. God can transform stones into bread! God
is the Transforming Power in this universe.
The Devil just doesn’t understand how
God uses this power. Certainly not to impress. Certainly not to
dazzle. Certainly not to prove anything. If God would occasionally use the power
of transformation to dazzle and impress, it would certainly make my job
easier. You’d have to admit that if I could ask God to transform these stones
into bread, this sermon would be more captivating. But it would also turn it
into a spectacle, something akin to a David Copperfield Magic Show. And God
isn’t into spectacle or magic.
Can’t you see God looking at the way
we have messed up the rebirth of New Orleans, vast sections of the city still
the way they were the day after the waters receded, and little effort to bring
back neighborhoods for the poor? And with a bolt of lightning, God strikes and
the 9th Ward of New Orleans is transformed with sturdy, beautiful,
freshly-created homes and trees and parks and shops? God cannot be pleased with
the Meacham Parks vs. the Kirkwoods? With the North St. Louis vs. the Central
West End? With Ladue vs. East St. Louis? With those who live on North Tucker
Boulevard vs. those who live on South Tucker Boulevard?
In one of the stories where Jesus
miraculously fed the multitude, he withdrew to a quiet place. And the crowds
caught up with him the next day. Jesus saw them approaching and said, “You don’t
seek me, but only because you ate your fill of the loaves of bread.” You’re
bread-hungry, miracle-hungry. “Seek the bread that endures.” And the crowd
responded, “We want to see another miraculous sign of this bread that
endures.” And Jesus said to the crowd, “The bread of God comes from heaven and
gives life to the world.” And the crowd answered, “Rabbi, give us this bread
always.” And Jesus concluded, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to me
shall not hunger and whoever believes in me shall never thirst, and the bread
which I give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:35ff., apt)
Bread, for the life of the
world! “How blessed are you who hunger now.” For what do you hunger?
There is throughout Jesus’ teaching a
close relation between physical hunger and hunger for life. Jesus fasted in the
wilderness to bring these two hungers into one. Most of us have never
experienced real physical hunger. But we are so hungry for life. Our stomachs
may be full, but our souls are so often vacant. So often, in our in-between
moments, we ask, “Is this all there is?”
Now, you might be relieved to hear me
say that the Devil also has it wrong, because God doesn’t do anything that isn’t
purposeful. And the purpose of God’s action is always transformative. And the
season of Lent on which we have embarked has to do with meeting the God of
Transformation. The Bible tells us that we cannot come to Easter unless we pass
through Lent. Bonhoeffer said it, “When Christ calls us, he bids us come and
die” (p.99, The Cost of Discipleship). Thomas Troegger said it, “The
first requirement of resurrection is death. We cannot choose life without
choosing the death of our old selves” (p. 92-3, Are You Saved?). Jesus
said it, “For those who want to be my disciples, let them deny themselves and
take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24).
What a contrary message to our
day! We live in the Age of Self. Be true to thine own self. You have to take
care of yourself. Be good to yourself. Pamper yourself. You’re worth it. Express
yourself. These are the messages of the Advertising World. These are the
messages of the Self-Help industry. But Jesus isn’t reading our books. He has us
scratching our heads. The word of our day is Improve Yourself. And Jesus’
word is Deny Yourself.
Somebody has it wrong. But think
about it: The more self-absorbed we become, the more self-absorbed we become. It
is a circular pursuit that leads to nothing more. Narcissism produces
navel-gazing. And that is all. Does it truly make us happy? When we focus only
upon ourselves, you would think it would be to our gain but more often it is to
our detriment.
Obviously, there is nothing wrong
with inward focus. That is what Jesus was doing in the wilderness, searching
himself, searching his own soul. He wandered among the stones in the wilderness
searching for answers. But in America these days, we are into the Age of
Narcissism, “an inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love,”
excessive self-focus.
Jesus’ message to us is clear: don’t
dwell on yourself. Don’t be self-absorbed. You find yourself by losing
yourself. You find yourself by finding your Creator and then discovering God’s
life-giving love within you. It isn’t that you don’t matter. You matter a great
deal to God. God loves you. God values you. God wants for you the greatest gift:
your own transformation. God wants to offer you the Bread of Life to the world
around you.
But transformation isn’t
self-induced. You don’t obtain it; you receive it. It comes from Beyond.
I have known so many people who have
gotten lost inside themselves to the point that they can’t find their way
out. You can’t self-help your way to God. And you can’t fill the God-Hole within
your soul with self-improvement. You can deny yourself, which means, to deny
narcissism, and allow God’s transforming hand to come upon you and allow God’s
Holy Spirit to direct your paths. And then you will discover the beauty within
you.
It might prove helpful to look at the
root of the word, transform. Many human efforts have to do with reform,
going back to an earlier form, trying to re-capture what once was. Other human
efforts have to do with conforming to a nearby model, trying to look like
the person next door. And some persons are dismayed because things aren’t
uniform, one form for all: “There is only one way; my way.” We can become
very formal, given to outward appearance.
And then there is the word,
transform, to change from one form to an entirely new form. The utter truth
of the matter is that we can conform ourselves, reform ourselves, but we cannot
transform ourselves. That is beyond human power. Once when Jesus was asked, “Who
can be transformed?”, he answered, “What is impossible for you is possible for
God” (Mark10:26b-27).
Jesus said, “No one tears a piece
from a new cloak to put it on an old cloak; if he does, not only will he have
torn the new one, but the piece taken from the new will not match the old. And
nobody puts new wine into old skins; if he does, the new wine will burst the
skins and then run out and these skins will be lost. No. New wine must be put
into fresh skins” (Luke 5:36-39). And to Nicodemus one night, Jesus said, “I
tell you, unless a person is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John
3:1ff). Or my favorite parable, “Unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and
dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest”
(John 12:24).
Troegger said, “We cannot choose life
without choosing the death of our old selves. We prefer to ooze our way into new
life, to make tiny adjustments that do not threaten who we are or how we live”
(p. 92-3, Are You Saved?).
Just this past week, I received a
copy of a letter from Kelly Sisson, pastor of Glade Church in Blacksburg,
Virginia, home of Virginia Tech, where those tragic killings occurred last year.
She wrote, “Today, the President of Virginia Tech, Dr. Steger, announced the
decision of how Norris Hall (where the shootings took place on April 16) will be
used and reclaimed for the future. A major portion of Norris Hall will become a
state-of-the-art Center for Peace Studies and Violence Prevention. This is the
culmination of a Task Force led by our provost, Mark ManNamee—who is absolutely
here “for such a time as this.” He has been grace upon grace form the first
moment of this tragedy—and it is nothing short of miraculous that this
recommendation made it out of all the possibiliies that were on the table.”
Knowing campus politics, Kelly called
this decision to transform a place of classroom murder into a peace studies
center “miraculous,” and is indicative of God’s transforming hand upon the
provost, the president, the task force and that community seeking to make sense
of the absurdity of that mass murder.
Our society is clearly broken. The
killings in Kirkwood were followed by similar killings at Northern Illinois
University and at Baton Rouge, seeming to tear the center of our nation
apart. Only God’s transforming power can help us overcome this insanity.
Liberals like myself, and perhaps
like you, run from the word, “conversion.” We’re uncomfortable hanging out with
the man who said, “I don’t know who this Jesus of Nazareth was, but one thing I
know: once I was blind, but now I see.” We believe in osmosis, gradual
evolution, carefully planned progress, reasonable change, realizable goals and
measured objectives in reaching them.
And God works in transformation. The
time the disciples spent with Jesus is typically marked by how dense they are,
how little they understand. Only upon the violent death of their leader, in
their utter abandonment they turn to become great spiritual leaders
themselves. And this transformation was God’s doing.
Our growth in Christ is not so much
by gradual evolution but by revolution. Not so much by our planning as by God
intruding. Not so subtle as radical. One of the most radical Christian
educators, John Westerhoff once said, “Christians are not born. Neither are they
simply made, formed or nurtured. Conversion—a reorientation of life, a change of
heart, mind and behavior—is a necessary aspect of mature Christian faith. . ."
(p. 21, Inner Growth, Outer Change).
The Devil had it right. The Devil
knew that God can transform things. “If you are the Son of God, turn these
stones into bread.” This is not beyond God’s power. But like the Devil, neither
can we control God’s transformation. The purpose of nurture in the church to be
ready for it, to be prepared, so that when God breaks into our patterns and
routines, we are ready also to say, “Once I was blind, but now I see.” Our
stone-like hearts can be turned into hearts of flesh, hearts of love. “Behold,”
says the Transforming God, “I can make all things new.” More often than not, we
will find this gift by opening ourselves at the hurting margins of God’s world.
Ruth had just moved into the city,
into her own apartment. She was a beautiful young adult, her dark skin and blue
eyes a reflection of her Ethiopian father and her European mother. Yet on her
first night in the city, Ruth was killed by an intruder.
And her mother was thrown into the
wilderness, a captive wilderness of the soul. She knew in her head not to blame
God. But in her heart she could not but question God. She felt the weight of
Ruth’s death around her neck, tightening, day by day, like a noose. She felt
strangled, suffocated, and alone. She turned inward, searching for answers. She
turned inward to mourn. She turned inward and got hopelessly lost.
Then something trivial
happened. Someone asked if she would fix breakfast for the church one
Sunday. Her friends were thrilled to see her finally turning outward. She
volunteered the next Sunday, and the next, turning into years of Sunday morning
breakfasts. She toasted and buttered and jammed her way out of her wilderness
through the ministry of hospitality to friend and stranger who gathered around
her table.
God had taken her broken heart, and
mended it, without her even knowing. Toast and cereal transformed her life. She
hadn’t forgotten her loss, but God had transformed that grief into gain, that
wilderness into calling. Instead of the Last Supper, she was serving, after her
own loss, a First Breakfast, a sacred meal. She had passed through the
wilderness and was sharing her reborn love again. It was beyond what anyone
could have expected from something so mundane as preparing Sunday breakfasts at
church. But somehow it represented a Calling from Beyond. And Sunday mornings at
her church became resurrection for all who tasted of the Bread of God which
gives life to the world and to hungry souls.
Jesus said, “I am the Bread of
Life. Whoever comes to me shall never hunger or thirst, and the bread which I
shall give (is) for the life of the world. . .” (John 6:35f.).
And should not our Lenten prayer be,
“Rabbi, give us this Bread always.” Amen.
