Galatians 2:11-21 · Paul Opposes Peter
A Longer Stride and a Larger Embrace
Galatians 2:11-21
Sermon
by Maxie Dunnam
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Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron, and said, “Look, we are your bone and flesh. For some time, while Saul was king over us, it was you who led out Israel and brought it in. The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel.” So all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron; and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David king over Israel. David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned over Judah seven years and six months; and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years. The king and his men marched to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who said to David, “You will not come in here, even the blind and the lame will turn you back”—thinking, “David cannot come in here.” Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion, which is now the city of David. David had said on that day, “Whoever would strike down the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack the lame and the blind, those whom David hates.” Therefore it is said, “The blind and the lame shall not come into the house.” David occupied the stronghold, and named it the city of David. David built the city all around from the Millo inward. And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of hosts, was with him. (II Sam 5:1-10 NRSV).

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but trough faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing. (Gal 2:15-21 NRSV).

My life has been immensely enriched during the past couple of months by Eugene Peterson. His reflections on the life of David in his book Leap Over A Wall is genius: genius in interpreting and plumbing the meaning of Scripture, genius in applying Scripture to our day-to-day life, genius in his writing style and poetic expression.

The subtitle of the book is “Earthy Spirituality for Everyday Christians.” Peterson skillfully uses the David story to tell not about David, but about you and me. Of all the characters in the Bible, David is most human. His life is lived on the “rough-edged actuality” of real life. His relationship with God is an energetic and passionate one. Through David’s trials, temptations, passions, and the lyrical poetry, we gain powerful insights into the role of God in our own life.

In wrapping up the story of the capture of Jerusalem and its establishment as the City of David, 2 Samuel offers this wonderful phrase: “And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of Hosts, was with him.” (2 Samuel 5:10). Petersen reminds us that “another way to translate the Hebrew phrase halok v gadol is that David proceeded from that moment with ‘a longer stride and a larger embrace’” (Leap Over A Wall, pg. 135). I want to use that image today to elaborate on my vision for this season of the Seminary’s life: A LONGER STRIDE AND A LARGER EMBRACE.

Get the setting, as well as the story, in your mind. This was a pivotal time in David’s life.

(He) had just been made king over Israel as well as Judah, uniting the separated tribes, and he needed a center for his new government. His present base was Hebron, but that was far to the South and wouldn’t attract the allegiance of the northern tribes of Israel. But if he went to the North, he would leave out the southern tier. He needed a non-Israelite, non-Judaic site. Jerusalem was just the ticket: a small, fortified city set right along the borders between Israel and Judah, and never occupied or in the possession of either. (Leap Over A Wall, page 132).

…“the change at this point in David’s life was radical . . . All his life he had been marginal; now he was central. For years he had been living furtively and defensively; now he was in a position to live royally and commandingly. That’s a huge change. Would David change too? Would he change into a Middle Eastern despot, or would he grow?” (Leap Over A Wall, page 135).

The text says, “And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of Hosts, was with him.” David proceeded from that moment with “a longer stride and a larger embrace.”

The Trustees who are here for our Executive Committee meeting, our returning students, and our ongoing community of staff, administration, and faculty, know that I presented a White Paper to our board of trustees last spring. It was a beginning expression of my vision for this next season of our life here at Asbury. I’ve shared this vision paper broadly within the community. Outside the community, I’ve shared it with clergy and lay groups across this nation. It is a work in progress. The overall dimensions are clear—the implications and practical expressions of it are evolving.

The overarching call is for Asbury to be a catalytic agent in helping move the church from a clergy paradigm to a whole people of God paradigm. To do that I believe we must be less clergy/mainline church-centered, and incorporate into our life the Scriptural principle that ministry belongs to all baptized Christians.

I’m calling for “the longer stride and the larger embrace.” I believe David, at his capture of Jerusalem and the establishment of a Kingdom of united tribes, moved into a whole new season of his life. So too, we’re moving into a new season here at Asbury. It has to do with change, but more—it has to do with growth. Change may be God’s will, but not always. Growth is God’s will—always.

In my convocation addresses through the years, I have sought to define the nature and mission of theological education, particularly here at Asbury Theological Seminary. I continue that effort today.

I’m calling for Asbury to recapture our classical essence as “seminarius,” which means seedbed and/or demonstration plot. Organic is a key image. “Change can diminish us; it can cut us off from our roots; it can panic us so that we abandon our past… But when we grow in contrast to merely change, we venture into new territory and include more people in our lives—serve more and love more. Our culture is filled with change; its poor in growth. Change is everywhere; growth is rare. New things, scientific and technological marvels, developments, opportunities are announced, breathlessly, every hour. But instead of becoming ingredients in a long and wise growth they simply replace something that has been. The previous is discarded and the immediate stuck in—until, bored by the novelty, we run after the next fad. Men and women drawn always to the new never grow up. God’s way is growth not change.” (Leap Over A Wall, page 135-136).

Seminarius, seedbed, demonstration plot, organic/organism—growth. From the beginning, with my inaugural theme, “Standing Firm – Moving Forward, ” I have contended for growth. “Nothing from our past is thrown out with the garbage; it’s all composted and assimilated into a growing life. And nothing—no ‘moral,’ no ‘principle’—is simply tacked on from the outside.” (Leap Over A Wall, page 136). In one convocation address, I talked about memory and imagination as the dynamic of our life as a seminary.

Again, David provides the metaphor. He first came to our notice, when, as the youngest of Jesse’s eight sons, he was pulled out of the sheepfolds in the Bethlehem hills and anointed as the future king of God’s people. After that, in the prime of his adolescence, he had met the giant Goliath in battle and slain him. This brought him to the attention of everyone—and particularly to King Saul, so he became a musician in Saul’s court, wearing the badge of fame as the killer of Philistines. Then for approximately eight years, he was a fugitive in the wilderness, hiding out from the wrath of King Saul who sought to kill him. For two years he was the leader of the guerilla band of 600 at Zikleg. Then he became the king of a single tribe, Judah, in the village of Hebron. Now he is the king of Israel and Judah.

“David at 37 was more than he was at 17. More himself. More his God-given and God-glorifying humanity. A longer stride, and a larger embrace. (Leap Over A Wall, page 136).

That’s the way it has to be with us here at Asbury. Moving into our 80th year, we don’t loose ourselves from the past, we bind ourselves more solidly to our distinctive as an Orthodox/Wesleyan/Methodist/Holiness/Evangelical community of learning. We stand firm, but we move forward. We take the longer stride and the larger embrace.

Let me reflect on the vision as you have helped sharpen it.

I don’t know to whom the Holy Spirit first gave the word that we are using as a kind of descriptive slogan, but I’m grateful for someone’s sanctified attention: WHERE HEAD AND HEART GO HAND IN HAND. ATS has long been a center for prayer. Both the college and the seminary were born in prayer. I relish the stories out of our history of our predecessor leaders’ complete dependence on prayer. There’s one about the building of Estes Chapel. It was during the war. Building materials were rare, scarce to come by, and expensive. The builders ran out of materials for the building of the chapel and it looked as though they were not going to be able to get any. Dr. McPheeters paced up and down the incompleted chapel, praying that somehow God would intervene and bless. And, just like God—it happened. A truck, loaded with lumber, broke down and couldn’t continue on its way and Dr. McPheeters was able to purchase that truckload of timber and continue building the chapel.

The steps have been humble yet bold, our leaders have gripped the horns of the altar of prayer and persisted in faith until the blessings came.

We have always been a center for prayer. Who knows when the longer stride came or was it simply an expansion of awareness and language? We are now a Center for Prayer and Spiritual Formation. We are seeking to be self-conscious about the fact that serious Christian academic learning happens in the context of worship, prayer, spiritual formation, and deliberate attention to Christian community. Head and heart go hand in hand.

I like the metaphors David Tiede combines to describe the essential work of a theological school. David is the president of Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. His metaphors are academy, abbey, and apostolate. Action words connected with these are think, be, and do. Think suggests the core of the academic enterprise and equates with a theological school as academy. Be stands for the personal character and spiritual formation of persons and equates with a theological school as abbey. Do stands for the practices and skills of pastoral ministry and equates with a theological school as apostolate. Quite a vision for theological education: academy, abbey, and apostolate.

Students must go from Asbury knowing how to think critically—theologically and reflectively. They must also go from here having at least begun the process, and given themselves to the disciplines of spiritual formation, knowing that sound learning and vital piety must be kept in harmony. But also going from this place with the understanding of the apostolate—that is, committed and equipped for the practice of ministry.

Let me fill in some of the blanks suggested by these metaphors as they overlay my vision for a transforming theological seminary that self-consciously claims ministry belongs to the whole people of God, and the seminary is to be a catalytic agent helping move the church out of its institutional boundedness to recover a movemental quality.

As a seedbed, the notion of academy and abbey are brought together as we genuinely seek God.

That’s a big part of what we are about here—genuinely seeking God—head and heart going hand in hand. Let me focus that a bit more sharply. Sister Marie Bonaventura, a nun in the Middle Ages, was living a relaxed life in Rome. After much encouragement, she was finally persuaded to attend a conference on the disciplines of the spiritual life. The very first meditation was on the purpose and end of man. The meditation inspired such fervor in her heart that the priest, giving the meditation, had scarcely finished when she called him to her, and said, “Father, I mean to be a saint, and quickly.” She then went to her cell, and writing the same words on a scrap of paper, she fastened it to her crucifix, where it would be a constant reminder. “I mean to be a saint and quickly.”

But the saints of the ages have all known that there is no way “to be a saint—quickly.” St. Francis de Sales gave direction for our journey.

We must begin with a strong and constant resolution to give ourselves wholly to God, professing to him, in a tender, loving manner, from the bottom of our hearts, that we intend to be his without any reserve, and then we must often go back and renew this same resolution. (A Year With the Saints, page 2).

The whole of our Christian journey is disciplined attention to God and that must be at the heart of what we’re about here in the seminary. We want to be a transforming theological community. Academy and abbey become one. We don’t ignore, or even lessen, our academic pursuit of critical reflection on the texts and traditions of the church. In a post-modern age that honors neither learning nor ministry, we must dare to believe that a “learned ministry” is a goal still to be sought. For the sake of the church and the Kingdom, a “learned ministry” must be shaped in character—morally and spiritually—in the context of prayer and spiritual formation.

We must clarify what it means to be a holiness school. Justification without sanctification is not a complete salvation. Meister Eckhart warned that “there are many who are willing to follow our Lord halfway—but not the other half.” Our community—as academy and abbey—must cultivate in us a thirst for holiness. That is, in part, an academic enterprise. We can’t pursue a serious study of Scripture without being consistently and constantly confronted by God who demands, “Be holy as I am holy.” And we can’t study our Wesleyan perspective without concluding that this was one of Wesley’s paramount contributions to an understanding of the Christian faith and way—holiness of heart and life—personal and social holiness.

But it’s not just an academic pursuit, the work of the academy. It is abbey also. The end to which we move in our thirst for holiness is purity of heart. The Puritan divines labeled this heart-work. John Flavel, a 17th century English Puritan, put it in this perspective: the “greatest difficulty in conversion is to win the heart to God; the greatest difficulty after conversion, is to keep the heart with God… Heart-work is hard work. (Keeping the Heart, Grand Rapids, Michigan, Sovereign Grace Publishers, 1971, pages 5, 12).

The crux of our heart-work towards holiness is our will surrendered to Christ so that God can take possession of it. The apostle Paul expressed it autobiographically in our New Testament lesson: “I died to the Law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified to Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live in faith by the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:19-21).

Holiness requires the full surrender of our independent self-will in order that God can eradicate our self-orientation. Let me tell you about one of our graduates who is modeling this. Many of you know her—Tammy Hutchins. I wish I had time to tell you Tammy’s story. Here’s a brief snapshot. Like many of our present students, Tammy was converted and nurtured in a dynamic campus ministry—in her case, the University of Georgia. She felt God’s call upon her life. But again, like many, was clueless as to the shape of that call and where it might lead. She came to Asbury in total dependence on the Lord. The summer before her last year in seminary, she went to India on a short-term mission. God confronted her there in a deeper, more profound way than ever before. She fell in love with the homeless street children in Bangalore and knew this was a part of God’s calling on her life. By a series of miraculous God-incidents, she is now in India, in a thrilling ministry with the little children.

I have known few people who are as totally dependent upon the Lord as she. She sends e-mail messages to her friends and supporters. I always read them with great joy, as well as being challenged. Though at least 35 years younger than me, Tammy is a kind of mentor. I’m learning from her simple bedrock faith and radical abandonment to Jesus. Always in her communication, there is a confession of her dependence upon the Lord, and her willingness to live sacrificially in order to fulfill God’s call. In one of her e-mails (October 4, 2000) she wrote:

I encourage you to let God take you deeper in prayer and intimacy. I know these are the “Christian catch phrases” these days. But…well…it’s the truth. I guess my prayer for you is that you would go deeper with Jesus, that you would let Him wash through you like a rushing river, cleansing, soothing, filling you in every good way. Intimacy…just more of Jesus. That place where you utter a prayer and in an instant, it has been answered. That place where you are convicted of yourself in sin and in the same moment encouraged and refreshed. That place in your heart where man’s words cannot reach, but one word from God, and you melt.

Is it too much to pray that that kind of thirst for holiness and purity of heart and dependence upon the Lord would be cultivated in the life of every person in our community?

Now add apostolate to the metaphors of academy and abbey—and add demonstration plot to the notion of seedbed as the essence of seminarius—and you take a longer stride and make a larger embrace of ministry belonging to the whole people of God.

We must listen more closely to the Church. We must not allow our paying attention to the ordination requirements of denominations to substitute for listening to the Church. We can respond to ordination requirements and the requirements of our accrediting agencies, and still be more responsive to the grassroots Church that we’re called to serve. The most pronounced call from the grassroots is for effective preaching, leadership, moral character, and an honest and recognizable spirituality. Congregations seek leaders who are grounded in Scripture and accept it as the authority for faith and life, and though they express it in different ways, they want persons who seek holiness and who have moral and ethical integrity.

Whether we readily admit it or not, there is a kind of distrust of the seminary and of theological education by the grassroots local church. Much of this is due to classic American Protestant liberal theology and its successors: radical feminism, theological pluralism, political correctness, and moral/ethical relativism. These are still pervasive in theological education. That is not our problem here at Asbury, though I’m sure we get tarred with the same brush. Another aspect of the distrust is the doubt folks have about whether seminaries are actually preparing persons for effective leadership in local congregations and the larger Kingdom enterprise.

One aspect of our failure – perhaps the primary one – is that traditional theological education is institutionally bound. We think primarily of the Church as an institution and our task as preparing persons for leadership within it. While we must not ignore or fail in this, we will not be adequately serving the Kingdom unless we respond more intentionally and contribute more deliberately to the Christian faith as a movement rather than merely an institution. Becoming a movement, or having a “movemental” quality to our institutions will mean that we become apostolic in our style and passion. This means that local churches must move from being “come-to” to “go-to” congregations and the seminary must model this dynamic.

Going to may be the greatest apostolic task that is ours. Some of you know the statistics: 36 million Americans (14% of the population) live in poverty. Of those, the portion living in our urban centers has increased from 30% in 1968 to about 47% today. Are we going to them?

Seventy million individuals in the United States are under the age of 18. Are we going to them?

Nearly one million foreign-born people immigrate to this country every year. Are we going to them?

Thirty-two million people in America speak some other language than English as their primary language. Are we going to them?

We have more unsaved and unchurched people in our nation than ever before in our history—172 million. Are we going to them?

But not only in style, we must be apostolic in our passion. For the apostles, Jesus Christ was the Good News. The conviction of who Jesus is and what God has done and is doing through Him will give us the power to be for our age what the first century Christians were for theirs. We must become convinced and become passionate about what Christ can do for persons and for society. Our big task is to contextualize the message to the culture…because what Christ can do for persons and society is universal, not culturally bound, but is culturally adaptable.

This means, among many things we don’t have time to explore, that much of the ministry in the future, in this country especially, will be led by bi-vocational and/or lay pastors. The question then arises: Will the seminary continue to see itself as an academy for graduate theological education alone, or as a servant of the Church to educate and equip the whole people of God? The Church of the 21st century, which is apostolic in style and passion, will necessarily see itself as existing for the sake of mission in the world. It will see itself not as having a mission, but as being mission, with the world as our parish. This will require a paradigm shift of rather monumental proportions. The Church will have to change from seeing itself as an institution, or as an organization, to seeing itself as a Movement—an organism. This will require a move from being clergy-centered to ministry as the responsibility of the whole people of God? Put simply, the ordinary Christian is a minister and a missionary. This ministry and mission takes place in one’s personal life—home and family; in societal occupations -- in the workplace and in politics; and in one’s corporate life in the church. The role of pastor within the congregation will take the form of teaching, vision casting, motivation, and empowerment.

This paradigm shift will also require moving from individualism and individuality to community. Also it will require a shift from program orientation, which is a come-to dynamic, to unleashing gifted people for marketplace discipleship, to do Kingdom work in the world.

I like the way our own Howard Snyder has contrasted our stereotypical understanding of church to the Kingdom of which the church should be a sign:

Kingdom people seek first the Kingdom of God and its justice; church people often put church work above concerns of justice, mercy and truth. Church people think about how to get people into the church; Kingdom people think about how to get the church into the world. Church people worry that the world might change the church; Kingdom people work to see the church change the world. (Snyder, Liberating the Church: The Ecology of Church and Kingdom, page 11 as quoted in the book The Other Six Days, page 212).

Well, we have a lot more to do—both in reflection and action—in filling in the blanks for this next season of our life here at Asbury. But the big idea is clear: moving the church and, by necessity, the seminary from a clergy-centered, mainline church-centered institution to a Holy Spirit Kingdom movement, an organism of mission and ministry by the whole people of God.

Movement in this direction will require the investment of us all—energy, imagination, flexibility, a willingness to grow, commitment, a tolerance for ambiguity, some surrender or turf, mutual respect, appreciation and accountability.

I close with this confession: I came to the Presidency eight years ago, feeling totally inadequate for the task but confident of the call. Those feelings have not changed—I still feel inadequate—but listen – who is adequate? For all our endowment, facilities, outstanding faculty, able administration—we are all inadequate. And “unless the Lord build the house, the builders labor in vain.” That’s the message of Scripture to a self-reliant age. But hear this. My feelings of inadequacy have been baptized with the experience of being led and supported by the Holy Spirit and this community, by the joy of seeing the Lord powerfully at work in individual lives and in the direction of the seminary. I can identify with the confession Kathleen Norris made in her strange and beautiful book, The Cloister Walk. Norris talks about her experience of becoming a Benedictine oblate. She said she knew two things: one, she didn’t feel ready to do it, but she had to act, to take the plunge. Two, she had no idea where it would lead.

Listen to a portion of Norris’ confession:

The fact that I had been raised a thorough Protestant, with little knowledge of religious orders, and no sense of monasticism as a living tradition, was less an obstacle to my becoming an oblate than the many doubts about the Christian religion that had been with me since my teens. Still, although I had little sense of where I had been, I knew that standing before the altar in a monastery chapel was a remarkable place for me to be, and making an oblation was remarkable, if not an incomprehensible, thing for me to be doing. (Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk, pages xvii-xviii).

Norris then told about the monk who was to be her oblate director—that is, the one who guided her studies of the rule (a period that was supposed to last a year but rambled on for nearly three). She spoke with appreciation for this spiritual guide who waited patiently for her to sort out her muddle. Finally she said to him, “I can’t imagine why God would want me, of all people, as an offering. But if God is foolish enough to take me as I am, I guess I had better do it.”

The monk smiled broadly and said, “You’re ready.”

I guess the question is, “Are we?” Are we ready to take a longer stride and a larger embrace? It will require risk, and most of us prefer the hell of a predictable situation, rather than risk the joy of an unpredictable one. We need to remember the words of T. S. Elliott: “Only those who are willing to risk going too far can possibly find out how far to go.”

MaxieDunnam.com, MaxieDunnam.com, by Maxie Dunnam