Mark 1:21-28

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

A friend of mine from college had an interesting way of filling his free time: he would climb up the exteriors of various buildings on campus. This all happened at Valparaiso University, so one of his climbing adventures took place on this building: the 60’-high Chapel of the Resurrection (see image below).

His attitude towards life was engaging, fresh, and often quite different from mine. I rode a bike, always with a helmet firmly attached; he had a skateboard. I played cards and video games; he came up with crazy pranks to pull off on campus. I was concerned about following the rules; he pushed boundaries. I kept my feet firmly on the ground; he...did not. Well, I kept my feet firmly on the ground until the day I finally went with him to climb a building on campus. I didn’t attempt it until our senior year. In all reality, it was little more than an attempt to impress the girl I had recently started dating. We all made it up to the roof and back down without falling and breaking any bones. And she must have been impressed because we kept dating and eventually married.

I asked my friend if he was ok with me talking about him and his campus climbing adventures for my sermon illustration. He joked that he wasn’t aware of the story of Jesus climbing the temple. However, I reminded him there is a story about Jesus climbing the temple. It’s found in Luke 4:9, which reads: “The devil...placed [Jesus] on the pinnacle of the temple.” It all makes sense now...the devil made him do it!

I’m not advocating for anyone to go scale the facades of buildings. That’s not exactly what inspires me about him. I am inspired by his impulse to push against rules, norms, and expectations in order to serve others. This same friend graduated and went down to Guatemala to work with people who lived in landfills. That takes a serious boundary-pushing impulse.

I hope you are blessed with a friend like this; someone who helps you see new possibilities. A friend like this keeps you on your toes. A friend like this helps you understand that some rules are made to be broken.

In this way, my friend modeled an aspect of Jesus’ life that is often overlooked by Christian churches in the West today: Jesus was ornery. This is evident in the miracles he performed, the wisdom he taught, the friends he made, the freedom with which he lived his life, and the way he understood and related to God. All of it clashed against the customs and rules of his time.

Ornery Jesus reserved his most radical and controversial actions for the Sabbath day–the day no work was to be done. I imagine Jesus was pretty low key throughout the week, but as soon as the sun goes down on a Friday night, Jesus would get a look in his eye that suggested he was ready to break some rules...because some rules are made to be broken.

In the gospel story for today, Jesus is teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath. He’s not teaching like everyone else teaches...this guy is impressive! He’s engaging, authoritative, and exciting. He’s pushing boundaries. He’s the skateboard-riding, thrill-seeking, excels-at-everything guy captivating a room full of rule-followers wearing safety glasses, pocket protectors, and bike helmets...or whatever the equivalent was 2,000 years ago.

He is addressing an assembly of people whose power is perfectly preserved by the rules they impose and enforce. But here they are, eating up Jesus’ every word. They begin to see that the rules should ensure that all people thrive. Maybe someone other than a priest can forgive someone’s sins in God’s name. Maybe people should be allowed to be healed on a Sabbath day. Maybe sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes are worthy companions with whom to sit down and break bread.

And then someone in the assembly recognizes what Jesus is doing and calls him out on it. “I know who you are. You will destroy us!” Scripture says this is the voice of an “unclean spirit.”

The unclean spirit has found a compatible host in this religious man preoccupied with his own power. This unclean spirit is threatened by anyone suggesting there is a life to be lived beyond the rules, regulations, and structures that preserve the power and privilege of the elite. The voice insists what matters in life is to follow the rules so that you can keep your cupboards and treasure chests full, even if those same rules mean others are denied their fair share.

Jesus does not sit quietly and listen to the concerns of the unclean spirit. He does not allow the voice of lies, deceit, and unbelief to utter another single word. He has no time to waste rationalizing with such narrow-mindedness. Instead, Jesus commands this unclean spirit to be silenced and remove itself from the man. It does. All are amazed.

I like to think that all those who witnessed this event in the synagogue that Sabbath day left feeling free and emboldened to push the limits of society, ready to treat people with more respect and compassion than they had before. However, there were some whose hearts were hardened against the new gospel they were hearing and witnessing with their own eyes. They saw Jesus as an ornery rule-breaker. And when your identity, value, and salvation is tied up in maintaining the rules even if those rules oppress others, then ornery rule-breakers must be stopped at any cost. These men would conspire with other powerful people to rid themselves of this rebellious Jesus once and for all. They would, of course, fail.

Fortunately for human civilization, history is full of examples of people who have been in touch with the rebellious nature of the universal Christ and have gotten into “good trouble,” as the late Georgia Representative John Lewis liked to refer to it. John Lewis, leading the crowd of black southerners across the Edmund Pettus bridge to register to vote. Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, raising the world’s awareness of the sin of apartheid in South Africa. Malala Yousafzai, shot in the head for demanding girls be given the right to be educated in Taliban-occupied Pakistan, only to survive and find an even louder voice. These are just a few of the stories most of us know well. But each day there are people who challenge rules and assumptions that only serve to preserve the power of the privileged. They get into good trouble.

God did not send Jesus into the world to sanction our worldly preoccupation with preserving our sense of power and privilege. God sent Jesus into the world to expose the sin of humankind, teach us a more beautiful way for all people, and remind us that we are forgiven even when we fail to follow that more beautiful way. In the coming days and weeks, I encourage you to get to know ornery Jesus. Ornery Jesus calls out injustice. Ornery Jesus calls out the unclean spirits that tell us our salvation lies in our power and privilege. Ornery Jesus looks at an obstacle as intimidating as a 60’ brick wall and says, “We can make it up there.”

Amen.

Mark 1:14-20

After John was arrested, Jesus came from Galilee proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled. The kingdom of God has come near. Repent. And believe in the good news.”

As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fisherman. He said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately, they left their nets and followed him. As he walked a little farther, he saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John, in their boat mending the nets. Immediately, he called them and they left their father in the boat with the hired men and followed him.

We have engaged a pretty serious training regimen for our new puppy Rosie – something I’ve never done with any other dogs in my life. She’ll be a year-old in March and she spent a week away from home at a place called “Purpose Driven K9” a few weeks ago, learning how to do a few things – like “heel,” which means to walk in-stride, always to the left, and slightly behind the person who is holding her leash. And she’s learning to “auto-sit,” too, which means that when her person stops walking, not only does she stop walking, but she sits without her human having to say or do much to encourage it. And she’s also learning to “place,” or to “stay” in one spot – and be glad about it, too.

If you’ve ever met a puppy – especially a puppy named Rosie, who lives at my house – you can imagine that the idea of staying in “place” – and being glad about it – is a pretty high bar.

All of it is in service to, what her trainers and the program call, achieving “Coffee Shop Mentality.” “Coffee Shop Mentality” is achieved when your dog can sit still, maintain a relaxed state of mind and a calm presence – even out and about in the world – sitting at the coffee shop, perhaps, in spite of whatever dogs or people or squirrels might be around to otherwise tempt and distract and excite them.

But it all seems to begin with following. So, of course, today’s Gospel brought it to mind.

Jesus is out and about, rounding up followers and, unlike Rosie, James and John and Simon and Andrew just seem to follow, to do what they’re told, right out of the gate. No cynical questions, like Nathanael asked last week, when he first met Jesus. (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”) No hesitation that – Mark’s Gospel reports, anyway. No tangible end-game, either, really – except for this strange promise of “fishing for people,” which isn’t really all that tempting a lot of days is it? (Sometimes I’d rather just fish for fish, or nothing at all.)

But Jesus seems to simply walk on by, extend the invitation, and those first disciples follow him. They “heel,” if you will. Like perfectly trained, purpose driven puppies.

And what I love about Jesus is the same thing I wondered about when I saw the handful of dogs in Rosie’s obedience class – every one of them different from the next and nothing but a bunch of mutts. We’re not exactly sure what Rosie is … some mix of black lab and German Shepherd, we were told. Her canine classmates included one possibly purebred Husky, but otherwise the breed or pedigree of the other hounds was unclear to me. Again, nothing but a bunch of mutts as far as I could tell.

And Jesus’ disciples weren’t much to crow about when it came to pedigree, either. Fishermen, tax collectors, some women who never even get named right out of the gate. But, just like any good dog trainer, Jesus seems to think he can work with anyone – and that everyone has something to learn, some way to grow, something to offer with a little guidance, some inspiration, a good example, and a whole lot of love.

And I think that’s because the time had come near for him. Like Jonah in our Old Testament reading, so many generations before, Jesus was calling anyone who would listen to pay attention to what was going on in their lives and in the world around them, to recognize their part in it, and to repent, to change, to be transformed by the Good News God was trying to bring to bear upon the world, instead.

See, Jonah was driven to speak out against the wickedness and evil and violence among the people of Ninevah.

Jesus was moved by much of the same, and motivated by the arrest of his friend John the Baptist. He was feeling the call upon his life from that day down by the river, when he was declared “beloved,” and “Son of God,” and “the one with whom God was well pleased.” So, Jesus was moved to help that Good News come to pass, to get the ball of God’s grace for the sake of the world rolling in a new, big, abundant sort of way.

And there’s enough in our lives and plenty going on in the world that I hope moves us to want to live more faithfully, to recognize more honestly our part in the brokenness that surrounds us. As hard as it can be to acknowledge and admit, we are the people of Ninevah, I believe, with plenty of wickedness and evil and violence for which to repent and long to repair. (I’ll spare you the litany of those specifics for now. I feel like I’ve been banging that drum enough lately.)

But, like those first disciples by the sea (and like my dog, Rosie, too), our ability to change and to be changed, to be transformed and to find and live into our purpose, begins with following.

In the face of all that surrounds us, we stay close… and behind… and keep our eyes trained on our master.

We stop every once in a while and we listen carefully for the next command – because there are so many distractions and temptations to do otherwise.

And sometimes God leads us to green, peaceful pastures and beside still waters.

Sometimes there are mountains and sometimes there are valleys. There are rough places and straight paths, too.

Sometimes God leads us into the center of Ninevah or toward no place we’d recognize or choose if we could.

Sometimes God leads us through sickness and fear and grief and gladness.

But the hope and point of it all, is that God is always leading and always calling us to follow. And God has already arrived and is always waiting, too, in whatever lies ahead for us.

So I’ve decided our “coffee-shop mentality” as Rosie’s trainer calls it, is something, like what it means to live and to be in the world, but not of the world as people of Good News: to know and understand and be grateful for our place in the grip of God’s grace, such that the hardships and challenges and temptations that surround us don’t have the power to unsettle or tempt or distract so much that we lose our focus on where God is leading:

Always home. Always toward mercy and forgiveness and redemption. Always in the name of Jesus, the one who calls us and leads the way, first – even through death and the grave, so that we might follow him with obedience, faith, and hope toward resurrection and new life in his name.

Amen