Sermon for February 24

Here is the sermon from February 24.  The text upon which it is based is Luke 13:31-35.

February 24, 2013

Prepare Our Ears: Listening To Jesus

They were a really wonderful couple.  Both had winning smiles, friendly personalities, and were just really likeable.  They were the kind of people that you could sit down with and talk about things for hours.  Both were rather popular, and had good work ethics.  You could tell that they really thought about things when you would talk with them, and even though they might not arrive at the conclusions that you had hoped, it only seemed to make you feel that much more protective about them.

And yet, as you spent time with them, you could also see that not everything was wonderful in their lives.  Just like any other couple, they had their challenges and difficulties when it came to sharing a life.  The only problem was, they didn’t really seem to have the tools to work together on those challenges and difficulties.  There were things that each one saw in the other that they wished were different, but it just seemed like they didn’t have the courage to talk about those things with each other.  That still didn’t change the fact that they were likeable and friendly.  But you could see the strained lines in their smiles at times.  You could hear that hurt in their voices when they would touch upon the things that they didn’t talk about as a couple.

They were the kind of people that you opened your heart to, and that wormed their way in so easily.  And so it was, when they started coming around less frequently, you knew something was wrong.  When you would try to get one or the other to talk about it, you could feel the heartache in their voices as they would try to change the subject, and your heart would just ache for the pain that they each were feeling.  You wished that you could help them through the difficult times, but when you would attempt to help, they would change the subject fairly quickly.  You could tell that there were some raw wounds there, and neither of them was really ready to open them up, clean them out, and let the healing begin.

They wormed their way into your heart.  You felt the ache for them.  And one day, that ache reached a peak when one of them talked to you.  “It’s all over.  We just can’t make it work anymore.”  And you knew that their hearts were breaking, but yours was hurting almost as much.  They were like family.  You wanted nothing more than to sit down with them, to bring healing into their lives, especially in their relationship with each other, but they just didn’t seem to be willing to do it.  In their eyes, another way seemed better, even though that other way would be just as painful.  And your heart ached for them as they went on down the path they had chosen, hurting, and your heart hurt right along with them.

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem…How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!”  Do you hear the heartache there?  Do you hear the pain of knowing that Jesus wanted nothing more than to bring healing to His people, and yet, they had rejected God’s way in order to go down the path that they thought would be the best one?  For centuries, God had been calling out to His people.  “Let me show you what it really means to be my people.”  And for centuries, those same people had failed to listen to God’s voice, and had been going the way that seemed best to them.

The heartache of Jesus that we hear today in our Bible reading from Luke 13 isn’t new.  It stretches all the way back to the very beginning.  In the third chapter of the Bible, we already see that heartache and compassion of God toward His human creation.  Adam and Eve had decided to follow their own hearts and minds rather than live as God had outlined.  And then we are told that they tried to hide from God.  As God came walking in the garden looking for them, we have the first cry of heartache from God.  “Where are you?”  The man and the woman weren’t eagerly waiting to spend time with their Creator.  God knew exactly where they were.  They weren’t hiding from Him.  But their first indicator that God was experiencing heartache came as He had to ask the question.  “Where are you?”

And that refrain continued through the centuries.  God wanted to send a man by the name of Jonah to a foreign city, where God knew that His grace would be received, and Jonah decided that he didn’t like the way that God was pointing.  And so God ended up having to call Jonah to repentance and faith, just like He did the people of Nineveh, who ironically repented much quicker than Jonah, one of God’s own people.  And then, as the people of the nation of Judah were being conquered and marched off into exile for their failure to hear God’s compassionate cry to return to Him, He still spoke out to them.  Jeremiah’s message would often be, “Return to me.”  And Ezekiel, living at about the same time, would spell it out even more powerfully.  “I don’t desire the death of anyone who walks away from Me, but I would much rather they return and receive the life that I have created for them.”

These are just a few examples of the heartache of God as His heart ached.  His people were hurting, and God wanted to make things right.  The only problem was, they kept going down roads that brought even more pain and heartache to their lives.  They couldn’t bring themselves to believe that God’s design and will were much better than their own thoughts and ideas.  And so they wandered, and wandered, encountering heartache and pain, all of which was also found in God’s heart.

Compassion has a price.  As you get into the lives of others, and you see the places where they are hurting, your heart cannot help but hurt along with them.  Compassion has a price.  You can’t stand idly by and be unaffected when they worm their way into your heart.  Compassion has a price.  When you want to help them to make things better, your heart is going to go through the same aches and pains as theirs, perhaps not as intensely as theirs, but when you are truly compassionate with them, you cannot help but feel some of the ache and pain.

Compassion has a price.  It’s a heart that not only aches and shares their pain, it’s one that does so willingly, and knowingly.  Compassion has a price.  And no one knows that any better than our God and Lord, Jesus.  Compassion has a price.  And Jesus didn’t only share in the heartache and pain that His people endured.  Jesus would see the price, and know that it was so much more than any of His people realized (including you and me), and Jesus would march forth willingly to pay that price.

Compassion has a price.  For Jesus, it wasn’t only sharing our heartache and pain, it involved taking our heartache and pain upon Himself.  It involved bearing the brunt of the pain and suffering that our heartache and pain causes, even including the physical beating that it brings about.  It involved the shedding of His lifeblood, all to do what was right for His people.  All to show God’s compassion toward His human creation.  

Compassion has a price, and Jesus willingly paid that price to its maximum.  And as Jesus did that, He didn’t do it only for the city of Jerusalem.  The price of compassion is one that stretches all the way back to the man and the woman in the garden, and stretches all the way forward to the day when Jesus reappears.  The price of compassion reaches from the city of Jerusalem all the way to the ends of the earth.  The price of compassion that Jesus paid on the cross still reaches all the way to you, today, here in our community, as Jesus shares your heartache and pain.

God’s compassion is for you.  And the good news for you this morning is that you have access to that compassion that stretches beyond time and place.  God shares His compassion in the places that He has set aside to deliver it to you.  He has shared that compassion with you as He claimed you as His very own child in the washing waters of baptism.  He shares that compassion with you as you hear His sweet words of forgiveness.  He pours that compassion into your life as you open your mouth to receive the true body and blood of Jesus in the supper that He set aside as a means of delivering that compassion to you.  God’s compassion is for you.

Now, if those were the only ways that God shared compassion with us, it would be enough.  The thing is, God wants His compassion to overflow into the lives of His human creation.  He gives us sure and certain places where we have access to it, but He also works to bring it into our lives in other ways, as well.

We experience God’s compassion in our friendships here with our fellow believers.  You’ve probably had at least one or two occasions in life where you were experiencing heartache and pain, and one or two of your brothers and sisters in Christ were here to share that heartache and pain with you.  They comforted you.  They cared for you.  Their heart ached with yours.  They supported you.  They prayed for you and with you.  They showed their care in ways that truly touched home.  And as they did that, they were also sharing God’s compassion with you.

God’s compassion becomes a living thing, not just through baptism and forgiveness and the supper of Jesus, but also through every single one of our brothers and sisters in Jesus.  We see that compassion some today, as we pray for those who hurt, and as we lift up and comfort those who mourn loss in their lives.  We see it in another way down at the other end of our building, as some of God’s people show compassion by giving a little of the substance of life so that others may have their lives sustained.  God’s compassion becomes a living thing, not only through God’s means of delivery, but through every act of compassion that God’s people engage in as we live our lives together.

In some ways, that seems overwhelming to us.  We have to face the fact that we simply cannot be God’s compassion to every single other person.  Only Jesus can be God’s compassion to all people.  What we find is that we’re much like the picture painted by what is most likely a familiar story to us all, but is a good one to describe what we’re thinking about today.

A boy and his friend were walking along the seashore.  It was low tide, and every once in a while, the boy would reach down, pick up a starfish, and throw it back out into the water.  After he had done this a few times, his friend asked him why he was doing it.  The boy replied that he knew that the starfish would die up here on the shore, and so he was picking them up and throwing them back out into their home, so that they would survive.  His friend looked at the miles of shoreline that lay ahead of them, and asked the boy why he would do that.  After all, think about all the starfish on the miles of shoreline that wouldn’t know the boy’s compassion.  What kind of difference did it make if the boy threw a few back?  Reaching down, the boy picked up a starfish, looked his friend in the eye, and said, “It makes a difference to this one.”  

Compassion comes at a price.  Jesus alone can pay the price of compassion for all of His human creation.  It’s great that we, as God’s people, want to show compassion for many.  But there are miles of shoreline, and we are but few.  To focus on the shoreline and the thousands of starfish that lie ahead seems overwhelming, as it should.  We are not Jesus.

But in your life, God gives you the opportunity to show His compassion to a few.  You cannot toss all the starfish back into the ocean, but this week, you will encounter one or two that need that compassion.  Who will be your starfish?  Be warned.  Compassion has a price.  They might worm their way into your heart, and as you hear of their pain and ache, your own heart might start to ache along with them.  But you then have the opportunity to share God’s compassion into their lives.  It might not happen in a few minutes, or hours.  It might take days, weeks, months, or even years.  Your heart may ache with them through ups and downs.  Compassion has a price.  Jesus has paid the big price on the cross and in His resurrection.  It’s a great joy that we get to share God’s compassion through Jesus, even though it may mean that our heart aches along with them.  The ache of compassion is far better than the ache of separation, though.  May we constantly be discovering this, for the sake of Jesus, our Lord.  Amen.