Between now and Advent we’re going to
be returning to the book of Hebrews for a while, after looking at the first
couple of chapters earlier this year.
So it’s probably good to do some
revision before we begin. So there’s your first slide (SLIDE
1). And there’s your second. (SLIDE 2)
Right – moving on…..
(SLIDE 1). 10 most frequenly occurring words in
Hebrews – gives you an idea of the kind of territory we’re in. Unlike any other book in the Bible, Hebrews
straddles the worlds of the Old and New Testament. It’s speaking particularly
to folk who’ve been brought up within Judaism; people who understand the
language of temple and sacrifice and the law, and who place a great value on
Moses and Abraham as their forefathers.
That’s the world the writer starts in. But then he goes on to make a
quantum leap. He tells them that in Jesus, the law is fulfilled, sacrifice is
over, and one even greater than Moses or Abraham has been among them.
And in the first couple of chapters he
outlines what we called the parabola of Salvation (SLIDE
2). With the Son of God, beginning in glory with the Father; descending
to live among us, and die for us in Jesus, and then being raised from death and
returning triumphant to his Father in heaven.
And reading between the lines, it looks
like these folk have got it. They’ve realised that Jesus is the Messiah and
have begun to respond to him. But now, things are getting tough. They’re being
persecuted. They’ve been kicked out of the synagogue. Folk aren’t trading with
them anymore. Family and neighbours are turning their backs on them because of
this new faith in Jesus. Life is hard.
And the writer of Hebrews wants to
reinforce their understanding and encourage them to stay faithful in the middle
of this struggle.
So in chapter 1, he emphasise that God has spoken to us
through his divine Son. Not just a
man, not just a prophet. Not even an angel – Jesus is God amongst us. That’s
why we need to listen to him.
But secondly, God’s son has come as
one of us to set us free. He’s identified with our humanity in the most
profound way by taking on flesh. And that means he can sympathise with us in
our struggles - because he has been where we have been.
Opening chapters –writer’s keen to
stress the divinity of Christ, but also his humanity.
And that’s where we pick up the story,
in Chapter 3.
1Therefore, holy brothers,
who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and
high priest whom we confess. 2He was faithful to
the one who appointed him, just as Moses was faithful in all God’s house.
So first of all, let’s
begin with that word THEREFORE.
There’s an old adage that
says ‘when you see a THEREFORE you’ve got to ask what it’s there for.”
And it’s there to point the
Hebrews back to the last few verses of chapter two, where the writer reminds us
that that the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity, has shared our
humanity in Jesus and knows what it is to be tempted and to suffer.
And these people especially
needed to hear that, because they were having a hard time. “You’re not alone”
the writer’s telling them. “In fact, you’re in the best possible company,
because Jesus himself suffered these kind of things too. Don’t forget that”
he’s saying.
Therefore, HOLY BROTHERS, he continues.
Now we tend to have a very
rosy view of the early church. Everybody smiling and sharing nicely; everyone
deeply Godly and faithful. Miracles happening at the drop of a handkerchief.
But any serious reading of
the New Testament bursts that bubble in seconds. Almost every New Testament
letter was written to respond to some difficult issue within a local
congregation. The Apostle Paul was no fool – he knows that people are people,
even when those people are gathered in congregation in the name of Christ.
So why does the writer use
this lofty title – ‘Holy Brothers’ – as though they were already the complete
article?
Well, in a sense, they
already are the complete article. “If anyone in in Christ, they are a new
creation. The old has gone, the new has come.” That’s what Paul says in 2nd
Corinthians. But the remainder of this life is about the process of becoming
that new creation. As the band Talking Heads once put it, ‘the future is certain - give us time to work it out.’ Our future
in Christ is certain, but for now we’re still working it out, changing slowly
into the people God would have us be. The old word for that is sanctification.
So when the writer calls
them ‘Holy Brothers’ he’s not saying they’ve arrived; they’re no more perfect
than any other congregation. He’s reminding them of where they’re going, and
the promise that God will finish the good work that he’s begun in them.
1Therefore, holy brothers, who
share in the heavenly
calling,
Now we could take that
phrase in a couple of ways. It could mean ‘those who are called to go to heaven
after they die”, but it could also mean “those called by heaven to live in a
particular way in the here and now”. Chances are the writer has both meanings
in view, but it’s helpful to be reminded that faith isn’t a form of escapism or
insurance for the afterlife. A genuine Christian faith has the present in view
every bit as much as the future, and it has to be worked out in the bump and
grind of our everyday living.
Here’s a good question to
ponder on that one. It’s good that you’re here today. But think about what you’ll
be doing this time tomorrow. And then ask yourself how your faith is going to
affect how you are in that situation.
It’s a good question, isnt’
it? Gets you thinking. What am I called to be; how am I called to act in my
regular, going about, every day life?
1Therefore, holy brothers,
who share in the heavenly calling, FIX YOUR THOUGHTS ON JESUS.
Not on your circumstances;
not on your problems; not on your self; not on angels. not on Moses. On Jesus.
He keeps doing this, the
writer. He keeps bringing it back to Jesus. Which is kind of annoying if you
want to just talk about God in a vague, all roads lead to heaven kind of way;
as many folk do these days. God-talk can be awfully wooly you know. Talk about
Jesus is embarrassingly specific.
So why does he do it? Why
this embarrassing particularity? Because he believes that in Jesus we are
seeing uniquely the image of the invisible God. People have speculated and
pondered about God for millennia, leading to all kinds of weird and wonderful
conclusions; but Jesus trumps all of that because he shows us what God is like first hand. He is the APOSTLE – literally the one God has sent – and
the HIGH PRIEST of our faith. The one APPOINTED from the
foundation of the world to mediate between God and humanity, make atonement for
our sin and bring lasting reconciliation.
And this is hard for the
Hebrews to get their heads around. Up until now it was all about the Law and
all about MOSES and the writer’s keen to help them see that lifting
Jesus up doesn’t mean putting Moses down – Moses too was faithful in God’s
household.
But there’s a key
difference which is spelled out in VERSES 3 AND 4: Jesus is worthy of greater honour, even than Moses. Why? Because Moses, like all things, belongs
to creation. He’s a creature. But Jesus, along with the Father and the Spirit,
is the Creator. The builder of
everything.
Paul puts it this way in
the letter to the Colossians:
“15Jesus is the
image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16For
by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and
invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were
created by him and for him.”
And that’s why, even today,
attempts to bracket Jesus with Mohammed or Moses, Abraham or Buddah, don’t hold
water in Christianity. However enlightened they were, and whatever wisdom they
brought us, they were men, and not God.
Moses and others like him
were SERVANTS within the household of
God, but Jesus Is God’s only begotten SON. God from God, light from light as
the Christmas carols have it. That’s the difference.
And that’s where I want us
to linger for a few moments as we draw to a close. Because if Jesus is the Son,
and he calls us his brothers and sisters, then what does that make us? Not mere
servants, but part of the family. Sons and daughters of God also. And that, for
its time, was revolutionary thinking.
You see, in the ancient
world, with all its gods, it was understood that human beings were basically
there as servants. Slaves created to do the god’s will. That was the
fundamental dynamic. Our only worth was in whatever service we could render to
the gods.
Feeding them, appeasing
them, sacrificing to them, building temples for them. You could earn a god’s
favour, but only if you did the right things. And even then, they could be
notoriously fickle with their affections. You never really knew where you stood
with the Gods because life was a game of chess and the gods felt about as
attached to human beings as we might do to a pawn or a knight on a chessboard.
The ancient world taught us
that we are servants of the gods and nothing more.
And Judaism, of course,
emerged in that same ancient world and spoke its cultural language; but from
its earliest days it also tried to speak of its one God, YHWH, in different
terms.
This God thinks of us not primarily
as servants, but as sons and daughters.
In the story of creation,
when Adam and Eve disobey and eat the apple, they’re driven naked from the garden.
But what does God do for them then? He fashions clothes for them out of animal
skins. He takes care of them like a Father would.
When the Israelites cry out
for deliverance in Egypt God hears and rescues them. They become his people.
But when, in future generations, they keep turning away and letting him down,
you can hear the pain in his voice when he speaks to them through the prophet
Hosea:
“When Israel was a
child, I loved him,
and
out of Egypt I called my son.
2 But
the more I called Israel,
the
further they went from me.
They
sacrificed to the Baals
and
they burned incense to images.
taking
them by the arms;
but
they did not realise
it
was I who healed them.
It’s the voice of a Father.
When Jesus taught his
disciples to pray he taught them to call God ‘Abba’ - which means daddy –
something unheard of in his day. And as he prepared to leave them on the night
before the crucifixion he said “I no
longer call you servants, because a servant does not
know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything
that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.”
Make no mistake, we’re here
to serve God. But we’re more than servants. More than little chesspieces moved
around the board by an unseen hand.
God loves us with a
Father’s compassionate love. And God wants us to know in the depths of our
being that we are his beloved children. His sons and his daughters.
And that’s the place I want
you to stay in your thinking as you leave the church this morning. I want you
to ask yourself how you feel about God. Do you know him as Father; or are you
just trying to keep on the right side of him, or maybe even keep out of his
way, as Lord?
We were made for more than
that, you know.
An emaciated boy sits on a
hillside, knees curled up to his chest, head resting on them like the weight of
his life is just too much to bear.
He set out to find himself;
but here he is six months later - more lost and lonely than ever. It wasn’t
supposed to turn out like this. Disgust stalks his day dreams. Disgrace envelops
him like the thin grey blanket he cowers under when the wind sweeps down to the
lake.
All his reasons for leaving
seem woefully arrogant and selfish in the cold light of this new morning. And as
he’s thought and thought and thought about it, day after day, the pressure’s formed
a hard diamond of regret within his mind. It’s there all the time now. A real
presence he can only escape for a few hours at a time, in fitful sleep.
But now that the last of
his pride has leached out of him, he knows what he has to do. He has to walk
towards the pain and make for home.
He knows things can never
be the same, but he’s prepared for that. He has the words ready. “Father, I’ve sinned against God and against
you. And I’m no longer fit to be called your son. Please take me on as one of
your servants.”
This is the rhythm he
breathes in and out as he slowly makes his way back home, the words he sobs out
on his Father’s shoulder when the old man drags him off his knees and takes him
joyfully and desperately in his arms.
A servant? No. My son, My son. Always my son. Even
when I thought you were dead. Even though you wished I were dead.
Take him home, clean him up, and let’s feast.
For this son of mine was as good as dead; but now he is alive; he was lost. But
now he’s found.
Amen – thanks be to God for
his word.
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