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Luke 21:5-38 · Signs of the End of the Age
The End of Time
Luke 21:5-19
Sermon
by John Wayne Clarke
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No reading of Luke is complete without coming to realize that Luke is concerned that the world understands that Jesus is the hope of the world and that any teaching that leads away from that fact is a false teaching. No matter what, no matter when, Jesus will be there to give us life.

In our own time, there have been those who have predicted that the end was near because of some tragedy that has shaken our world. Each time some doomsday people took from that awful event that God was getting ready to shut down planet earth. There is nothing new in people claiming such knowledge. It happened in the time of Jesus and it will happen again in our time, as well.

In the world in which Jesus lived, there were certain events that seemed to foretell the end of the world. Just such an event was the destruction of the temple in 70 A.D. To some people that event signaled the time when Jesus would come again and the end was near. Luke is careful to teach that the end of the world is not going to be connected with any event we can orchestrate.

Jesus uses the story of the temple being destroyed to make an important point. History tells us that on a clear day the temple in Jerusalem was visible from miles away. The reason it was so easy to see was that it was constructed of huge pieces of white marble and when the sun struck it just right it almost looked like a snow-covered mountain. Not unlike our own capital building, the temple was a visible reminder of stability and strength. Anyone who had ever seen it knew that it was always going to be standing as a witness to the greatness of God. The huge marble pieces would stand the test of time and would always remind the Jewish people of the permanence of their place in the promised land.

Our text today tells us that the disciples asked Jesus a very human question. If what Jesus has taught them is true, namely that the temple itself will fall, when will this catastrophic event take place? Hey, wouldn't you want to know? Of course you would, so would I. We would want to know because we would be afraid that when it happened, we would not be ready and we might die! We, like the disciples, would have been scared to death! Remember that temple meant as much to the disciples as it did to anyone else.

Every church, from time to time, needs to "clean the rolls." It is always a difficult task and one without many rewards. Sometimes it is hard to hear why people stop attending worship and why they stop supporting the church in other ways, as well. Generally churches have by-laws or a constitution to guide them in this process. There are several ways to approach the job. One is to send out a letter asking the member what he or she intends in terms of continuing or not continuing as a member of the church. That is the easier choice. The second way is to send volunteers out to visit these folks, talk with them, and personally invite them to come back. As is often the case, the volunteer visitors will discover that most of the people visited had found other things to do on Sunday morning. It is surprising just how much routine determines the things we do. Sometimes a person no longer attends worship simply because they changed their Sunday morning routine. They got used to watching the early morning news shows or something similar. Another common response is, "We came to church when our children were involved. When they outgrew Sunday school, we stopped coming," or "I enjoy going to church on the really big days, like Christmas and Easter. Compared to those days, other services are a little bit dull." But likely, the most difficult thing to be told is that the church is no longer relevant to that person's life. That means the church has failed this person in some way. Worse yet, it means the church didn't even recognize the problem before the missing member stopped attending.

In this day and age of terrorist attacks, of planes falling out of the sky, of not knowing what the future may be, we would be well served to be diligent in ensuring that our members feel the real need to be a part of the worshiping community. It would be truly terrible if our church members, or anyone for that matter, felt as if the only thing to do was sit back and wait for the end of time to happen. Imagine waiting for the temple to be destroyed without so much as seeking an understanding of why. The disciples, at least, were not afraid to ask.

One of my favorite movies was The Poseidon Adventure from 1972. You might remember that a cruise ship was turned upside down by a big wave. Everything was turned upside down. Reality was turned "upside down." The way out was up to the bottom and back to the front. The survivors had to go to the bottom of the boat, which was now the top, to get out. A whole group of people were not willing to follow the lead of the pastor to crawl up a Christmas tree to get out of the ballroom, to safety. He said: "Everybody is dead who was above us when the ship turned over. Now they're underneath us. It's up to us to get out of here."

The people who waited for help drowned, but those who were willing to risk, to have faith eventually were saved. Not all, but most. The pastor was indeed the Christ figure for those people. They eventually trusted in him and were saved. So for us it is no different, "But not a hair of your head will perish." Jesus says, "By your endurance you will gain your souls. By your endurance you will gain your lives. By your faith in me you will be free. The world may be falling apart around you, but having faith in me will save you."

We live in a very confusing and, it seems at times, broken world. We live in a world where there is suffering, pain, and sorrow. We live in a world where competing religions threaten to undo our ability to live together in peace. Things are not as they once were. The world is not simple and it is not innocent. The days of Leave it to Beaver are not even known to our current generation. Our young people today know only a world where terrorism and indifference pervade our world. They have every right to question where history is going. We dare not miss the opportunity to help them, like the disciples, learn that they do not need worry about the end of the world. If you live life not worried about the end of the world, you will live life to its fullest now and that will help everyone.

In the mainline church, we have sometimes avoided talk of the Second Coming. However, today we are faced with a new kind of indifference. It is a feeling of hopelessness that threatens the very foundation of our world. Now, as it was over 2,000 years ago, the ultimate answer is to be found in Jesus Christ.

There is no need for us to be afraid! Christian people have nothing to fear about the end of time. Christian people have nothing to fear about death or the end of the world. In our suffering and pain, we have nothing to fear. We will not be immune to the pain of this world. Christians are not set apart from the world, but experience all the harsh realities of this world. Someone said: "Whatever the future may hold, God can be trusted to see you through. In the meantime, demonstrate your faith and faithfulness by doing whatever it is God is calling you to do."

"I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks — who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering." Henry David Thoreau wrote these words because he was concerned, more than a century ago, that Americans were so busy making a living that they didn't know how to enjoy life.

As we live out our days and await eternity — whenever it may come — why not spend every day trying to experience in some way the joy of living, no matter how many days we may have to live? Let's ask ourselves: How is it with sauntering — with the joy of living — in our time? In our place? Perhaps we need to slow down in order to keep moving.

We know that Jesus' words in verse 18 cannot mean that Jesus' followers will not be harmed by their enemies. Some of them we know, were beaten, thrown in jail, and killed. But Jesus affirms for us that the ultimate security of his disciples is in God's hands. The people who persecuted the disciples and other Christians in the early years of the church failed to understand that in the end, God will fashion eternity. That is why we can take great comfort in Jesus' words, "By your endurance you will gain your souls."

Hope for the future, hope for today, is worth living for. Making each day count even if it is just taking a walk. We cannot fear the future, because that is in God's hands, we cannot fear today, because that is in God's hands, too. So live for the moment and wait. Wait for the coming not with fear, but with hope. We wait planning our lives, living our lives, hoping our lives will mean something to those around us.

The following story came to me on the internet. It was from an anonymous source, but nicely sums up today's Gospel Lesson.

The pickle jar, as far back as I can remember, sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window.     

When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. 

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back." 

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly.      

"These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me."           

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again." He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other.      

 "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to that."           

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town.        

Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have.           

When I married, I told my wife, Susan, about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.      

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "You'll never have to eat beans again ... unless you want to."

The first Christmas after our daughter, Jessica, was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. "She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her.

When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room.    

"Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.  

With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt.

Neither one of us could speak. 

— Author unknown

That pickle jar was, and is, a symbol of hope in their world. Where is your pickle jar?

Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays after Pentecost (Last Third): Father, Forgive Them, by John Wayne Clarke