Sermons

G2A #6: "Great Leaders & The Mistakes They Make" – Numbers - 1 Kings

At this point in the Biblical story the Israelites have settled in the promised land and divided along tribal lines, only uniting when threatened by outside military powers. On their own, the Israelites came to the conclusion that their best option would be to do what everyone else was doing–have a king lead them. After all, what could possible go wrong when someone’s motivation for doing something is, “Everyone else is doing it!” Actually, the more appropriate sentiment would be “Every other nation that rejects our God is doing it, so why shouldn’t we?”

God’s response is, “Don’t say I never warned you!”

It is here, with the Israelites’ decision to appoint a human leader, where this portion of the Biblical story strikes the richest soil. Their first two kings, Saul and David can be described in the same way: they brought military victory and were exactly the type of leader the Israelites desired, until they turned out to be big selfish jerks with violent tempers and a tendency to indulge their own interests, with disastrous consequences (does the name Bathsheba ring a bell?).

Both Saul and David are kings whose leadership included great success and great failure. But of the two, only King David is regarded with esteem. King David is so esteemed that he is named more than any other figure in the Hebrew scriptures. In the same way that the peoples’ freedom from slavery in Egypt is the most influential event in Old Testament history; David is the most influential person in Old Testament history.

Before we address the question of why David was so esteemed even with his grotesque failures, let’s talk a little about leadership.

One of the most effective leaders that I have ever personally spent time around was the senior pastor at the church in Tempe, Arizona where I served as a pastoral intern for one year. It was easy to admire him because he and I were very much alike (yes, I realize how bad that sounds, but let me explain!). It wasn’t just that he and I were alike, but rather that he excelled in the areas in which we were similar. We were both quiet, but whereas people tended to think my quietness was as sign of insecurity, his quietness was interpreted as a sign of authority. We were both reflective, but his periods of reflection and contemplation would yield profound insights. We both enjoyed golfing, but he was actually really good at it.

I’m saying this a bit tongue-in-cheek, of course; but there’s truth here. Think of someone who you consider a great leader, chances are you see this person as a better version of yourself–a version of yourself that commands more power, authority, and respect; a version of yourself that has accomplished more with his or her life than you have; a version of yourself that affirms your own preconceived understanding about life.

It is a core human truth that we evaluate effective human leadership along the lines of how much we see the leader as a more effective version of ourselves, which is probably the reason God warns against the people choosing a king in the first place. God’s leadership was more than sufficient for the people, but it was leadership that looked radically different from their own impulses and desires. Actually, it was leadership that they could not even see! So the people rejected God’s leadership in favor of leadership that looked decidedly more like their own impulses and desires.

Upon further reflection, I realize that I was certainly drawn to the senior pastor due largely to the ways we were similar; however, our similarities had little to do with his effectiveness as a leader. What made my supervising pastor such a successful leader was his ability to use his mistakes and imperfections as tools of effective leadership. When he made a mistake he told people about it, apologized for it, and learned from it. He knew in his heart that he was a person infused with the gift of God’s grace. Therefore he was not a prisoner to his mistakes and imperfections.

Which brings us back to the two kings: Saul and David. Both are guilty of atrocious crimes, but David is held up as the hero. Why? The answer lies with God’s activity, not David’s.

In response to Saul’s wickedness and inability to follow God’s commands, God rejects Saul. However, in response to David’s wickedness, God’s promise remains with David. It doesn’t seem quite fair, but that’s the difference. God created a covenant with David that Saul was never privy to. And while David faced harsh punishment for his sins, God’s promise remained valid. It was not David’s leadership that makes him a great leader; rather, it is the way in which God’s promises rested with him in spite of his imperfections.

The promise God made to David was a promise that laid the groundwork for the expectation of the Messiah–a descendent of the line of David in whom God would establish his eternal kingdom (2 Samuel 7:12). This promise would be echoed by the angel Gabriel in the address to Mary–a promise of a son who will “be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end”  (Luke 1:32-33).

The difference between Saul’s mistakes and David’s mistakes is that God forgave David’s mistakes and enabled him to lead as an imperfect person. Saul was a victim of his own imperfection. David was a strong leader because of his imperfection.

The good news is that as children of God through Jesus Christ, we too are heirs of the promise of the eternal kingdom. We too are heirs of the promise that grace will sustain us through every mistake and misstep. We too are heirs of the promise that we are greater than the sum of our failures. We too are heirs of the promise that God will not take God’s steadfast love away from us.

As we go about our lives as employees, students, parents, children, citizens, and church members, we are called to be leaders who are sustained by grace. We are not called to be perfect. We are simply called to spread the message of forgiveness to those who seek to harm us as well as those who are ignorant to the ways they harm us and the wider world.

And we will know that God has blessed us as leaders not when people hoist us up on their shoulders in victory, but rather when we are able to shoulder the burdens of others and provide a shoulder for others to cry on and lean on.

Amen.

G2A #4: "The Story of Our Life" – Exodus 1-15

What’s the story that defines your life?

What is the story that that most accurately represents or most completely informs your life?

Perhaps it’s a story stemming from the immigration of your ancestors? Many of us are quite conscious of the path our previous generations journeyed to bring the family to America–stories of precarious escape, fortunate assistance, and ceaseless hard work to make a better life for future generations.

Perhaps it’s a story about your children…or lack thereof.

Perhaps it’s a story of success from your own life: a chance encounter, a stroke of luck, an “in the right place at the right time” circumstance, or a hard-won achievement that opened up a world of possibilities.

Perhaps it’s a story of failure from your own life: a squandered opportunity, an “in the wrong place at the wrong time” circumstance, a door slammed in your face.

Perhaps it’s a story rooted in your physical well-being. Maybe you were part of a high school sports team that won the state championship. Maybe you have adopted a physical activity that gives order and structure to your world, such as jogging, weight-lifting, or yoga.

Perhaps its’ a story rooted in your physical ailments such as a devastating medical diagnosis, an addiction, or mental illness.

Or, perhaps it’s a story rooted in your affinity for a sports team. Have ever seen the remarkable encounter whenever two strangers meet and learn they are both Chicago Cubs fans? It’s an instant bond of solidarity rooted in understanding, suffering, and the optimistic motto: “Wait ’til next year.”

We define our lives by the stories not only of our lives but also the stories of the lives of those before us, beside us, and after us. The stories that define our lives can either enslave us or set us free.

My goal in these twelve weeks of exploring the scripture from Genesis to Acts is to uncover a greater understanding about the stories of faith that define God (and ultimately, ourselves). So far we have heard stories that would define God as a creator, destroyer, forgiver, promise-giver, and promise-keeper. While each of these labels point to some truth about God, it is the story of the exodus that becomes the primary way that God (and eventually Jesus) comes to be understood. The story of the exodus is the story that defines God’s life. It is, therefore, the story that defines our lives. It is the story of freedom.

A lot of narrative has taken place since we left off last week with Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac. Isaac went on to have two sons: Esau and Jacob. Jacob teamed up with his mom to trick his father into giving him the blessing meant for his older brother. Jacob ran away from home only to find himself engaged in a wrestling match with an angel. The angel changed Jacob’s name to Israel and proceeded to brake his leg – laying the foundation for the idea that when you wrestle with God you end up walking away limping.

Jacob had many sons, but he favored Joseph; thus, Joseph was despised by his brothers. They plotted ways to get rid of him, eventually selling him to some nomads. While imprisoned in Egypt, Joseph’s ability to decipher dreams and foresee a devastating famine eventually led him to a privileged position in the Pharaoh’s cabinet. The whole family immigrated to Egypt seeking food, and there were reunited with and forgiven by Joseph. They chose to stay in Egpyt, instead of returning to the promised land.

The immigrant Hebrew people obeyed God’s original commandment to “be fruitful and multiply." Their prosperity in Egypt was so great that it threatened the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh had no tolerance for people who didn’t speak the native language or worship their gods (of which he considered himself one); he was threatened by the immigrant’s prosperity; and he was convinced that in the event of war, the immigrants would show their true colors and join forces against the Egyptians from the inside.

So, the Pharaoh decided to murder all the Hebrew male children. Politically, this was a guaranteed check-mate. The remaining Hebrews men and women would continue to be enslaved, thus contributing to the national economy. And the girls would be unprotected from sexual assault from Egyptian men, meaning that any children born would not only be future slaves, but more importantly, only be half-Hebrew.

The act of faithfulness that initiates the story of the Hebrew freedom is the faith-filled refusal of the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, to murder the Hebrew male newborns. We can’t ignore the radical nature of this story: God uses the actions of two women who were very low on the cultural pecking order to initiate the freedom of God’s chosen people.

It is so incredible, it makes you wonder what other radical and unlikely people God will employ to see the exodus to completion I mean, what’s next––a stuttering murderer on the run, exiled from both his nation and his people, hiding out among a flock of stinky dirty sheep?

Well, yes, that is exactly the guy God chooses to see the exodus to completion! His name is Moses.

What ensues is this incredible story of God using the unlikeliest of heroes to convey God’s presence in a world of oppression, scarcity, and fear. The entire story establishes the timeless conflict between two types of ruling over people:

On the one hand is Pharaoh–whose leadership is about diminishing life, limiting growth, possessing, keeping people enslaved, and killing when one is threatened. On the other hand is the Lord–whose leadership is about multiplying life, being fruitful, setting people free, being in relationship, and who only resorts to killing as a way last resort in order to free those who have been enslaved.
— Rolf Jacobson

In the end, it is God’s life-giving version of lordship that proves more powerful than the Pharaoh’s life-taking version of lordship. Freedom is brought about by faithfulness, not force; patience, not political power. In the end,

The exodus is seen to be a sign of hope that poverty and oppression are not the last word, for God is at work on behalf of a different future.
— Terrence Fretheim

The exodus is the story that defines God’s life. From this point on in scripture, God is referred to as “The one who brought us up out of the house of slavery.”

The exodus is also the story that defines the lives of God’s chosen people. From this point on in scripture, God’s chosen people are referred to as “Those whom God brought up out of the house of slavery.”

There are many stories we can use to define our own lives––stories of success, failure, achievement, luck, ancestry, occupation, or family system.

But above it all, there is a story that unites us with each other, those who have come before, and those will come after. Above it all, we are “those whom God brought up out of the house of slavery.”

God has set us free from the stories that drag us down as well as the stories that puff us up. We are not slaves to our successes, failures, achievements, luck, ancestry, occupation or family system. We are the ones who have been set free for one single reason: that God would use us to set others free.

May we always remember that we are slaves who have been set free. May we keep our eyes open to those who are suffering in the world today. May we see them with the eyes of Moses, for even though we may be reluctant or doubtful that God can accomplish such great good through us, God most certainly can and will. That is true freedom.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

Rolf Jacobson quote from the online article “Commentary on Exodus 1:6-22; 15:20–6:8” at www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id-1086

Terrence Fretheim quote from Exodus (Interpretation commentary series), page 18.