A NOTE about the sermon series for Lent, of which this is the first:
Lent is a season of self-examination, focused on how we are following Christ in living the life and love of God in the world. It can be personal or communal, and this year we focus on how we as a church are living the life and love of Christ.
In a book called Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, Robert Shnase -- a bishop of the United Methodist Church, outlines five practices, and we will look at our own church life through the lens of each:
March 5 -- radical hospitality
March 12 -- passionate worship
March 19 -- intentional faith-development
March 26 -- risk-taking mission and service
April 2 -- extravagant generosity
In the story of Jesus healing Bartimaeus (in Mark 10:46-52) of blindness, all five practices are acted out in some way, and each Sunday we will explore how we act them out in our life as a church and as a body of Christ today. This week we focus on the blind longing of Bartimaeus not to miss Jesus, as a way of exploring our own practice of, and longing for worship.
A
blind beggar, sitting by the roadside,
hears
that Jesus of Nazareth is nearby –
maybe
just this one time and for only a moment,
and
he begins to shout out and say,
“Jesus,
Son of David, have mercy on me!”
His
name is Bartimaeus and he lives in the city of Jericho, and but for those two
details is his story not also our story, every time we gather for worship?
Like
him we hear that a messiah has come and is near, but we do not see him. It seems others have, and have been touched
and made whole by him. Hungry people
have been fed. Thirsty souls have been
satisfied. Broken and bent-over people
have been healed and made well. People
at odds have been reconciled and re-united.
Empty and wandering people have found new meaning and purpose. Sinful people, ashamed of their own lives,
have been forgiven, set free, and welcomed into gracious, loving community with
others around them.
We
would love to see that. We would love to
see the messiah, know the presence of God, feel the healing love of God in our
lives, in this church, in the world we inhabit.
Maybe
one time we did, but now have just the memory of it. Maybe we glimpse it a little bit, but we’re
not really sure. Maybe we don’t know
what Jesus really looks like, and we don’t even know where to look.
In
some deep corner of our hearts, every time we come here on a Sunday morning as
a Christian church to worship God, are we not like blind Bartimaeus shouting
out to the heavens and to the darkness that surrounds us, “Jesus, Son of David,
have mercy on me! Jesus, Son of David,
have mercy on us!”?
In
the story there is a happy ending. The
blind man – Bartimaeus, finds himself in the presence of Jesus.
Jesus
stands still and says, “Call him here.”
And
they call the blind man –
the
people around him, say to him,
“Take
heart; get up, he is calling you.”
So
throwing off his cloak, he springs up
and
comes to Jesus.
How
many times and in how many settings and in how many stages of our life have other
people done that for us? Told us to take
heart, that Jesus is not only calling us, but waiting for us? That he was not only waiting for us, but they
would help us find our way to him?
I
doubt that any of us ever come to God and find the healing love we so long for,
alone.
Every
Sunday – there are so many who help to make this place and this time a place of
worship for us. From the people who
clean the sanctuary and keep the yard outside neat and in order, to those who
greet and usher and help teach Sunday school and staff the nursery, to the
people who plan the worship and the music and prepare the bulletins and show
the slides and sing in the choir and show up Sunday after Sunday to fill the
pew beside you or in front or behind you, so you know you’re not alone, and not
the only one wanting to see and be touched by Jesus.
And
that’s only this one hour Sunday morning.
What about the rest of our lives and all the people who help us in so
many ways to find our way to God, to get to the place where Jesus waits for us,
to be able to hear a word and feel a touch of healing in our lives.
“Jesus,
Son of David, have mercy on me” is a prayer that is answered maybe always and
only through the help and the ministry of other people in our lives.
So
the blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”
Jesus
said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.”
Immediately
he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
Our
life is changed when we really see and meet Jesus. New meaning emerges. New directions take shape. We begin to follow and live a different way.
And
it’s not only us that’s changed. Our
being-changed changes others around us as well.
Makes them more open to something new in their life as well.
Because
Bartimaeus did not write his own story.
He did not insert himself into this telling of the story of Jesus. It was somebody else who saw him, saw his
healing, saw him then following Jesus, who decided this had to be part of the
telling of who Jesus is, and what Jesus does.
I
wonder if the people who saw and told and retold the story of Bartimaeus until
it just forever became part of the story of Jesus, were also at least some of
the people who at the beginning of the story tried to keep Bartimaeus quiet,
told him to shush, didn’t think he belonged in the picture and the story at
all?
But
then they saw something they weren’t expecting.
They saw Bartimaeus and Jesus in a new light. The blinders were taken from their eyes. They too were changed. And they could not but tell the tale.
I
wonder, when we are healed and have our eyes opened, or when we see someone
else’s life changed for good in some way by God and by Jesus, does it change us
as well and make our understanding and our telling of the story of God and of
Jesus that much bigger, and wider, and more inclusive of the most unlikely
characters?
Because
aren’t we all blind Bartimaeus sitting by the roadside, shouting out,
“Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!”?
No comments:
Post a Comment