Be Careful What You Wish For

John 12:20-33

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

“Now my soul is troubled. But what should I say – ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

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“Be careful what you wish for.” That’s all that came to mind when I read this week’s Gospel about those Greeks, those curious souls who show up out of nowhere wanting to meet Jesus. “Be careful what you wish for.” I’ll come back to them in a minute. But, “But be careful what you wish for.”

I think about the Ohio State Buckeyes and the Purdue Boilermakers – and their basketball fans – who were glad, maybe even relieved, to see their teams’ first-round opponents in the NCAA tournament this weekend. Only to be surprised and dismayed and embarrassed, even, to lose to the likes of Oral Roberts University, and North Texas. Be careful what you wish for.

I read this week about a family who was excited about their dog’s pregnancy, only to have her deliver 21 puppies – Neopolitan Mastiff puppies, to boot. Those are some big hounds. Be careful what you ask for.

And we’ve all heard about those lottery winners who wish for and win so much money that, when they get it, it ruins them, because they’re unprepared for what a windfall of wealth like that can do to a person’s perspective.

You get the idea: “Be careful what you wish for.”

And so, back to those Greeks in Jerusalem so many years ago, from this morning’s Gospel. They show up for the celebration of the Passover, where Jesus and his disciples and lots of others have gathered for the festival, and they ask to see Jesus. 

Maybe they’re curious. Maybe they’re skeptical. Maybe they’re considering conversion – or need some healing – or know someone who does – we don’t really know just what they’re up to or exactly what they’re looking for, in Jesus.

We just know they want to see him, presumably because they’ve heard good things. And it seems to me these Greeks, these Gentiles – and Jesus’ disciples and everyone else who was around to hear it, for that matter – get a lot more than they probably expected or bargained for when Jesus starts to let them know what’s to come.

I wonder if Jesus is still trying to break it to them gently when he says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain of wheat. But if it dies, it bears much fruit,” because, Jesus isn’t talking about wheat in a field. He’s talking about himself on a cross. So what he’s saying doesn’t sound so good – when you get beyond the imagery and the analogy and the metaphor of it all.

What Jesus knew was that his trip to Jerusalem for the festival of the Jewish Passover was going to turn into more than the party everybody else was looking forward to – the Jews the Greeks and everyone in between.

Jesus knows he is that grain of wheat. Jesus is about to fall. Jesus is the messiah who must die in order to accomplish God’s will – for himself and for the world. The disciples didn’t seem to always get it, but I’m trusting and hoping, by now, that we do.

But that’s not even the hardest part of it all, there’s even more to this story – to this life’s journey of faith for that matter – if we listen to all that Jesus predicts and promises about his own demise today. He says, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there my servant will be also.”

“Whoever serves me, follows me?” “Where I am, there my servant will be also?”  If serving Jesus means following him to the cross, how badly do we want this job?  If Jesus has plans to be at Calvary, am I the kind of servant who wants to meet up with him there? Is this really what I’ve gotten myself into? Is this really what I bargain for when I pray about being a better disciple; about living more faithfully; about doing God’s will in my life and for the sake of the world?

“Be careful what you wish for,” right?  I wonder if this is what those Greeks thought – and Jesus’ closest disciples, too, for that matter – when he hits them with all of this that day in Jerusalem.

See, I imagine what drew people to Jesus back in the day is very much like what draws people to Jesus now. And, to be honest, what has drawn people to Jesus over the ages isn’t always what God had in mind. So much of the time – then, as now, it seems – what draws people to Jesus is the miracles and healings, the beautiful preaching and clever teachings, the casting out of demons and the walking on water. What draws people to Jesus so much of the time is the Christmas and Easter of it all – the cute, cuddly baby in a manger with all those angels and candles and silent, holy nights; or the empty tomb, rolled away stone, resurrection, and the Alleluias of Easter morning.

But what Jesus promises today – for those first wannabe followers and for all of us, too – is that things are about to get ugly.

He says “the hour has come…to be glorified,” but you and I know now that by “glorified,” Jesus means “crucified.” He means whips and spit, thorns and nails.  He means betrayal, denial, and abandonment. He means despair and darkness and dying. And it sounds like he expects something from you and me in all of this, if we really mean to follow him.

No, the crucifixion isn’t to be for us. No, we’re not asked to endure the whips and the thorns and the nails of it all, necessarily. But we are called to something, and it isn’t always easy or pretty or what we might have signed up for. And with Calvary and crucifixion and the cross looming, we’re called to wonder what that looks like. “Whoever serves me, follows me.” “Where I am, there my servant will be also.” “Be careful what you wish for.”

We serve and follow Jesus when we sacrifice, when we do without – like Jesus did; when we sacrifice our pride, our security, our popularity – like Jesus did; when we make ourselves and our desires small so that God’s will and God’s ways can be glorified – like Jesus did.

We serve and follow Jesus when we welcome the stranger, when we love our enemies, when we forgive who the world will not – like Jesus did.

We serve and follow Jesus when we stand up and speak up and defend the rights of others who are suffering, even if that means risking something ourselves – like Jesus did. (Our Asian-American neighbors seem to be in particular need of some love, attention, and justice these days.)

We serve and follow Jesus when we proclaim a love and a grace and a mercy so big it is an affront to the ways of this world.

So, yeah, let’s be careful what we wish for when it comes to following Jesus. But let’s be bold and faithful and courageous about it all, too. Let’s let God’s forgiveness lead us to forgive in a new way. Let’s let God’s faith in us grow our faith in God. Let’s let the love of God for each of us, move each of us to love one another. Let’s let the generosity of God move us to be more generous; the sacrifice of God, in Jesus, to inspire your own sacrificial living.

Let’s be careful – and prayerful – about what we wish for, because this following Jesus thing isn’t always easy. But we do it, trusting – like Jesus did – that it leads to new life for us and for others, on this side of the grave and beyond.

Amen

Worship and What Matters

John 2:13-22

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.  In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body.  After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

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I used the phrase “upset the apple cart” in last week’s sermon, in reference to all Jesus was about to say and do that would get him crucified and killed by the powers and principalities of the world around him. And today, we get the evidence of that, in what has euphemistically, kindly been called Jesus’ “cleansing of the temple.” Which sounds nicer, tidier than I think it actually was. This morning we are reminded that Jesus wasn’t all talk, as we hear about his most well-known public display of protest and disruption and righteous anger – flipping tables, brandishing whips, and making harsh proclamations and bold, brave promises about his own destruction.

And, the backstory of Jesus’ protest in the Temple is that the celebration of Passover was right around the corner and Jews from all over were traveling to Jerusalem to celebrate the holiday. Since animal sacrifice was such a crucial part of Jewish worship, and since it was really difficult to travel with animals, those who came – from out in the countryside into the big city had to buy the animals they were expected to sacrifice, once they got into Jerusalem. (It was difficult to get all of your luggage, all of the kids and your cattle, sheep, and doves, into a First Century mini-van.)

So, some like to point out that there is all kind of reason to believe the merchants in the temple were ripping off those who came to buy their animals, because it’s believed they made people use special currency, that they exchanged it unfairly, and that the animals were probably being sold for huge amounts of money, way above market value. (If you can remember the last time you bought a beer at a Major League Baseball game or an ice cream sandwich at Disney World, this sort of price-gouging is easy to imagine.) Still, it’s likely that none of this is the main thing Jesus was actually protesting that day in the Temple. It’s not nearly that complicated, really.

Jesus was protesting the very nature and practice of animal sacrifice in the first place, plain and simple.

Jesus was protesting the Jewish understanding that these practices of sacrifice – all of this keeping with the old ways and the old laws wasn’t the way to worship anymore. He was saying… proclaiming… promising that the kingdom of God had showed up in a new way – in Jesus, himself – and that the Son of God was what worship was all about, all of a sudden. Cattle, sheep and doves weren’t necessary and wouldn’t cut it anymore as far as sacrifices were concerned.

The short of the long is that Jesus is turning over tables and brandishing a whip and screaming at the top of his lungs – trying to make the point that God’s people needed to change the way they were doing things; change the way they were worshiping; change their focus on what matters in life as followers of the most-high God.

Does any of this ring a bell? Has any of this hit home yet as we gather in-person, in our proverbial Temple, for the first time in almost exactly one year? Has any of this hit home yet, as those of you out there, livestreaming our online worship from your couch or at your kitchen table with your coffee in-hand?

As we reflect on the last year of our lives – together, separately as a worshiping community – can we imagine that the ranting and raving and righteous anger of Jesus in the Temple might have something to say to us as God’s people, still – not just at Cross of Grace, but as God’s people, generally, all around the world?

Now, I don’t believe God, in Jesus, upset the apple cart of our life together as a worshiping community by way of the COVID-19 pandemic. But I do believe God wouldn’t mind if we learned a thing or two about the power and purpose and the practice of our life together because of what we’ve been trying to figure out since last March, and for the sake of whatever we have to learn going forward.

What I mean is, I wonder how much we are being called to prepare ourselves for things to be different going forward – and how and why we might be able to do that most faithfully.

I know that those of us here, wish we didn’t have to make reservations online, wish we didn’t have to limit our numbers, wish we could sing out-loud, wish we could share communion the old fashioned way.

Those of us online – as comfortable and cozy as it is to be at home – miss the power of being in our sacred space, miss the presence of our Partners in Mission, miss the sights and sounds and smells and spirit of gathering like we always have.

I, personally, loathe the notion that, since November, I haven’t been able to see who’s worshiping with us on the other side of the camera that’s now mounted on the back wall of our sanctuary. I find it equally frustrating that I can’t see the faces, the frowns, the smiles, or the expressions of those who are here, because all of that is safely concealed by these darn masks!

And I know there are Christians all over the place – and I imagine some in our own fellowship – who are as frustrated and even as angry as Jesus in the Temple over all of it.

But I think we get frustrated and angry about it – myself included – when we forget that, as much as we love it and as good as we are at it, worship isn’t the only, or even the most important thing about following Jesus. If we’re not loving each other, forgiving our enemies, giving our money, serving the world, and more, none of what we do on Sunday morning – in-person or online – means much. (God hates our solemn assemblies, after all, if they’re not accompanied by the work of justice. We heard that from the prophet Amos, once.)

So I think – as we reflect on the last year and even as we begin to see the proverbial light at the end of this pandemic tunnel – we might be hearing a call from Jesus today to shift our perspective some; to change our focus; to wonder just what will be different for God’s people going forward as we worship, learn, and serve the God who has sustained us until now.

And I always try to begin with gratitude. And I’m grateful that Cross of Gracers have been patient and kind and gracious about understanding that we’ve tried to be safe and faithful in all of this – and that loving our neighbors and caring for the most vulnerable among us has been the impetus behind the outdoor worship, the online worship, the masks, the physical distancing, and the other decisions we have and will continue to make, going forward.

I’m grateful that, because of all of the technology we’ve acquired or learned to use differently, we have connected and re-connected with handfuls of people online who would, otherwise, be strangers to the ministry of grace and good news we share. (I’m not sure we’ll ever do another wedding or funeral that doesn’t allow family and friends and loved-ones from around the country – from around the world, even – to participate online.)

And, of course, I’m grateful for the science and the vaccine and all the learning we’ve done this past year, which makes our gathering safer and possible and more likely as we keep moving forward with it all.

See, we have a beautiful place to call home at Cross of Grace. We’ve tried to refer to our temple as a “Center for Mission” since the day we first broke ground to build it. It is home for us. And it is a beautiful, safe, refuge in a million different ways. But we worship, first and foremost – and we are grounded by, first and foremost – and we are gifted with grace, first, foremost, and always – thanks to the temple that is Jesus Christ, the One who teaches us to love one another – and our enemies, too – to such an extent that we sacrifice some things every once in a while to make room for him in our lives and for the sake of the world. We don’t sacrifice cattle, sheep, and doves, anymore, thanks be to God...

But we have been – and will continue to be – called to sacrifice what is comfortable for us, so that others might be safe. (I have some ideas about that where our Food Pantry ministry is concerned. And it will require more than just donations and contributions on our part.)

We have been – and will continue to be – called to sacrifice what is familiar as we navigate some new territory where our life together is concerned. (I have some ideas about that, which will expand even our small groups and Bible Study ministries into online platforms and practices, even once we’re hosting them in-person.)

And we have been – and will continue to be – called to sacrifice our limited expectations of what God can do through us, in spite of our hardships, and in favor of a bigger, broader vision of what God’s church might look like going forward. (God’s vision has always been bigger and broader than what I can see or predict or plan for.)

So I confess, I’m not sure what all of this could mean, just yet, or exactly how we might be called to different ways of being God’s Church in the world. But we will do it well and faithfully and in service to God’s Kingdom, only when we remember that we do it with gratitude – first and foremost – for the sacrifice made by God, in Jesus Christ, who was destroyed and raised again, for our sake … and when our lives, as individuals and as a community, reflect that kind of selfless generosity, always for the sake of the world.

Amen