Today – as would please our forbearer in faith, John Calvin – we have three passages that are all centered around the sovereignty of
God. That’s a very churchy thing to say so I’ll start by asking you what in the world that actually means. What does
it mean to you when I talk about “the sovereignty of God,” and how do you see it in action? (Answers are given.) Those are some
good answers. I wonder, though, how does it make you feel to think about God as
“sovereign?” (Answers are given.) Thank you. Hold on to
those thoughts while we explore this idea together.
The term “sovereignty” is a governmental term. Originally it meant that someone had authority over
the lives of others. Kings made treaties about trade routes and levied taxes
without consulting the farmers or citizens whose lives were affected by their profit. They had ultimate authority over who lived
and who died. As people of faith, throughout the centuries, we have always had
to reconcile the level of authority of some with the ultimate authority of God.
Some attempt to show the authority of God through empire and control,
but Jeremiah saw it in a simple potter’s wheel. I have to say, he’s not wrong. One of the most deeply spiritual experiences I’ve had was in a pottery class in college. There is something very
elemental about mud and clay. There’s something that is both precise and nebulous in the selection and
weighing of clay, the kneading of it to release air bubbles, and the molecular alignment of the spinning wheel. Sometimes I wondered
how much of me was guiding the clay on the wheel, and how much of the clay was
forcing me to pay attention to the centrifugal force that was centering and
shaping the clay.
Jeremiah saw this happening in some form or another and thought, “Aha! That’s what it’s like to be formed and moved by God. If there is some impurity that
competes with God’s purposes, then the vessel is spoiled and reworked.” He further sees this as a description of what is happening on a national
scale for Israel and Judah, so he calls for repentance on a national level.
Sadly, there is not much that could be more confusing to us than a call
for repentance on a national level. Don't get me wrong. I’m pretty sure we’ve been in worse situations, but a call to repentance on a national level would be very confusing right now. For one, we are not a
theocracy. There are many faiths that make up this great nation. Some see this
as a strength. Some see it as a problem. Regardless of which faith people have
or share, some believe we must repent for moral
impurity. By that, they mean, as someone recently said, the “pelvic sins.” Others also believe we are morally flawed, but our flaws have less to
do with expressions of self and the desire for partnership and more to do with
the unequal nature of justice in our practices. Whether in criminal justice,
employment practices, the treatment of immigrants, or equal access to
healthcare, it’s simply not a level playing field.
Now, I realize that these issues are both simple and complex, and just by raising them I have either lost you or engaged
you. It’s easy for us to get separated in the forest of public opinion. Take it from someone who used to wander around in
the woods a lot as a kid, sometimes you just need a familiar tree to help you
find your bearings.
That’s what Paul does for us in his letter to Philemon. Most assume he
was writing from prison in Rome at the time. We have no idea how Onesemus got
there, but he’s the subject of concern. Paul is writing on his behalf to Onesemus’ former owner, asking him to be received as a brother, as Paul’s child, as a useful companion. What’s interesting is the way Paul is writing this as a request, even though
he could command it.
Philemon’s consent is the key component to Onesemus’ restoration. Again, there’s no mention of what Onesemus did to end up in jail. It’s only said that he had been useless as a slave, but as a brother, he
can do so much more. Repentance is still important here, but it’s kind of all mixed up with the idea of “hessed,” the Jewish concept of doing the right thing. More than that, Paul says, “if he owes anything, charge it to me. Oh, by the way, you owe me.”
It’s definitely a heavy-handed request, but ultimately, it’s not about what any of them owe each other. Ultimately, it’s about responding to the love and sovereignty of
God, because sharing our faith becomes more effective when we see all the good
that we might do in Jesus Christ. The idea of becoming more effective because
of the possibilities of good that we unleash in one another is what motivates many to become the type of ally that Paul was for Onesimus, and it
begins with seeing one another as brothers and sisters in Christ. It also moves
us to see the part we play – even in our brokenness – in one another’s redemption.
I’ll give you an example. The other day I saw a post online that said, “The beauty of anti-racism is that you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t racist. You just have to be willing to fight it when you see it, even when you see it in yourself.”
Now, I realize that’s another one of those hot buttons that may have sent you off in
another direction, so let’s find another tree marker to help us stay on the path. How about we
start with kindness. That’s another one I see all the time. “Kindness is free. Spread it around!”
That feels better, right? So why do we have
this passage from Jesus telling us to hate everyone and everything? He can’t be hangry. He just came from a dinner party!
This is where comparing the stories helps. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus says that you can’t love others more than him. The point Jesus is raising here is not the
idea that hate is a central value.
Instead, he’s saying that when we make ourselves or our loved ones or our homes or
our jobs or our friends the center of our value system, we are not recognizing
the sovereignty of God! John Calvin would call that idolatry. Reinhold Niebuhr
would call it polytheism. Jesus just calls it a
lack of faith in God that leads us to make sacrifices to other gods instead of
living sacrificially for God.
It’s kind of like the old Bob Dylan tune, “It may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you gotta serve somebody.” That’s why Jesus brings up the cross. That’s why Jesus tells his followers that they have to count the cost for
this project of faith. That’s why he calls us to come out of our little made up kingdoms into God’s “kin-dome” and receive the terms of peace.
Those terms look like this:
•
We must recognize that we are, and have been, held by the one who
shapes and forms according to our faith or according to
our rebellion.
•
In God’s hands we come to see that when we come together to balance our accounts, we are all formed and reformed into a greater vessel by our potential
for the greater good.
•
As we follow Christ, we come to know that kindness is not free, but it is the thing that
frees us to know that God is active, present, and good.
To these terms, we must surrender, again and again, and again, as we are
formed and reformed, all for God’s glory and all for our well-being as God’s own heart; God’s beloved children. Amen.
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