In a small Swiss town there was a cathedral. It was called the Mountain Valley Cathedral. There has been a great deal of money spent on the wonderful stained-glass windows and tall arched ceiling. The cathedral also boasted of an outstanding pipe organ. The organ was designed in such a way that when it was played, people could hear it from all over the valley. As the people would work on their farms, they could often hear the organ as it was played. It gave great joy to the people of the valley for many decades.

Then one day the valley became silent. The organ was in need of repair. They called in one expert after another and yet no one was able to solve the problem. Specialists from all over Europe were asked to help and still no one was able to fix it.

Then one day when all hope was gone, an old man came to the cathedral. He asked if he could work on the organ. The sexton agreed and the old man worked for two days. The sexton was becoming nervous because the old man was saying nothing about what he was doing. Finally, on the third day, there was the sound of music all through the valley. People dropped what they were doing and ran to the cathedral. When the old man was done playing, the sexton asked why it was that he had been able to fix the organ after so many had failed. The old man said, "I am the one who built the organ, and I am the only one who can fix it."

This was the cry of Jesus as he looked over the city of Jerusalem. He wanted to fix the people but they would have nothing to do with him. The truth is that only the one who made us can fix us.

Adapted by Parables, Etc. (Platteville, Colorado: Saratoga Press), February 1987, p. 6.

In his autobiography, Dr. A.J. Cronin tells of a neighboring family called the Adamses. Mr. Adams was an accountant in New York City, but he loved to spend all the hours he could working in his garden at their Connecticut home with his only son, Sammy. When WWII broke out, Mrs. Adams suggested they take a refugee child into their home. Mr. Adams wasn't much in favor of the idea, but he went along with it to please her. The child they received came from an orphanage in Central Europe with the impossible name of Paul Piotrostansilis. Unfortunately, as Paul learned the language of his new family in Connecticut, he also learned to manipulate the truth. He found it easy to steal and do mischief and broke the Adams' hearts many times. He did, however, develop a close friendship with the Adams' little son, Sammy.

One day, Paul, against their specific warning, went swimming in a polluted stream near their home and came back with an infection that brought with it a raging fever. Because of the possibility it might be contagious, Paul was put in a separate room and Sammy was told to stay away from him. Paul eventually pulled through the crisis, but, while he was still sick, one morning the family found Sammy asleep in bed with Paul, the two of them breathing into each other's faces. And sure enough, Sammy caught the disease. The fever raged through him, and only four days later, Sammy died.

Dr. Cronin remembered hearing about the tragedy while away on an extended study leave. He wrote his neighbors, expressing his sympathy for them, telling them that he, for one, would understand should they feel the need to send Paul back, after all the heartache he had caused them. A few months later, upon returning from his leave, Dr. Cronin went next door to visit the Adamses and was surprised to see the same familiar sight of a man and a boy working side by side in the garden. Only this time the boy was Paul.

"You still have him then?" Cronin inquired. "Yes," Henry Adams replied, "and he is doing much better now." "All I can say to you, Paul," Cronin muttered, "is that you're a pretty lucky boy." "Dr. Cronin," Henry interrupted, "you don't need to bother trying to pronounce his name anymore, either. He is now Paul Adams. We have adopted him. He is now the son we lost."

That's the kind of love God has for us. A love that Jesus expresses in the face of threatened death, a love that goes about its business, in spite of the consequences. Love that adopts us as children. Love that makes us citizens of heaven. Love that puts us in our places and gives us our inheritances.

This past summer, there was a young mother mallard who had her brood. And it was interesting to watch how she took care of all seven of them. When anyone approached the lake, she became immediately aware and would gather her little brood together and hustle them along to hide in the reeds and brush that surrounded the edge of the lake. Once, someone went really close to get a better look, and she flew away. I was surprised by that at first – a mother abandoning her young. But then it became obvious what she was up to: She was offering herself as a decoy. She wanted the intruders to notice and follow her, away form her ducklings. She was willing to sacrifice herself in order to protect her offspring.

Now maybe we can understand the lament and the passion in Jesus' own voice. It is the cry of a mother who is worried to death about not only Jerusalem, but about all of us. Like a mother, Jesus sees far more clearly than do we, the children, the danger we are in. Like a mother, Jesus knows we tend to overestimate our powers and are prone to go off on our own, leaving the protective wings, to seek our own excitement and adventure. And like a mother, Jesus chases after us.

Do you see the image? Like a mother, Jesus' love is so great that his all-consuming passion is to sweep us up into his protective arms. And although there are others in pursuit of him, namely Herod, Jesus, like a mother is persistent. He sticks to what his love compels him to do. He pursues his flock with a passion. His answer to Herod shows that: He has a little work to do in Galilee yet, a few chicks to sweep beneath his wings; and then, he is headed to Jerusalem, where he will, in essence, fly off from his chicks alone and draw God's judgment to him so that the jaws of death might sink their teeth into his flesh only, and not into his children whom he loves with a mother-hen's protective passion.

In England in the 1940s a young woman entered Oxford University with little focus. She had no idea what to do with her life. But she soon came under the influence of a colorful professor of English, a writer with a gift, named C.S. Lewis. She became a Christian through much of his influence.

She left Oxford, against the advice of friends and family, and began to study nursing. After five more years of rigorous training, she was certified as a nurse.

But her story doesn't end there, for her questing, Christian spirit would not let her rest with the way things were. You see, she ended up working on a cancer ward in a London hospital. Gradually, she came to realize that most of the doctors ignored the patients who were deemed terminally ill. As a result she watched many of them die virtually alone.

Greatly troubled she felt that Christian compassion needed to be expressed to these patients in a visible way. She approached the hospital administration with an idea she had for surrounding those dying of cancer with friends and loved ones during their last days, rather than isolating them in sterile rooms with strangers. Her radical ideas were quickly rejected.

But undaunted, she decided to enroll in medical school to try to make a difference even though she was already 33 years old and would not graduate until she was 39. This she did and later a movement soon grew around her ideas that made it possible for dying patients to live their days in a setting of love and support.

Cicely Saunders, out of Christian compassion and a sense of calling to help in a specific way, began this movement in England in the 1950s. It later moved to the Americas and is now used everywhere and in every town. It is called the Hospice Movement, and it draws its inspiration from Jesus' own passion and compassion for his children -- "as a hen gathers her brood under her wings."

My prayer is that God will continually come to us in new ways and in fresh images, so that more Cicely Saunderses among us can be moved and inspired to take risks to join in God's compassion for his children. Amen.

In the Russian novel, The Brothers Karamazov, a woman has come to talk witha holy man about her problems with faith. "What if I've been believing all my life, and when I come to die there is nothing but burdocks growing over my grave? . . . How can I prove it? How can I convince myself?" The holy man's answer is: "By the experience of active love. In so far as you advance in active love, you will grow surer of the reality of God and of the immortality of the soul."

Jaques Maritain, the great French philosopher of the last century, said there were really only three questions that had to be answered: "Who am I?" "Where am I?" and "Where ought I to be going?" Jesus knew who he was, and where he was, and where he had to go. Lincoln knew. So have all great leaders and great men and women of faith known. Do we know? Or are we out of focus, our goals fuzzy and ill-defined? Our world is so insane, but not anymore so than the world of Jesus. Most people in his day, went to work every day, and came home, and were pulled this way and that. And they didn't ask the big questions very often. We remember Jesus because he did.

In his Large Catechism Martin Luther describes the church: "There is on earth a little holy flock or community of pure saints under one head, Christ. It is called together by the Holy Spirit in one faith. I was brought to it by the Holy Spirit and incorporated into it through the fact that I have heard and still hear God’s Word. In this Christian church we have the forgiveness of sins, which is granted through the holy sacraments and…the Gospel"

William Powell Tuck tells in his book, The Way for All Season, of a church where at the conclusion of a powerful and inspirational service, the congregation joined in singing the hymn, "I Surrender All." At the end of the hymn a young man jumped to feet and shouted, "You people don't mean a word of what you say! You sing, "I surrender all to Jesus," "Where He leads Me I will Follow," "Trust and Obey," and you don't believe a word of it. How many of you are willing to follow, surrender, trust and obey? How many?

The congregation sat stunned under the impact of his words, people were too shocked to even dismiss the young man as just another messed up kid. They were haunted by the question, speechless, until the youth leader, walked up to the podium and announced: "The following dramatic presentation was brought to you by the Youth Group." It was only then that the congregation let out a collective sigh of relief. I imagine, that more than one member thought, "Aren't those youth something" without ever giving the question they had raised another thought.

Do we really want to follow wherever Christ will lead us? Have we surrendered all to Jesus? Have we taken up the cross as our own? These tough questions are the questions of Lent.

Jesus called Herod a fox after some Pharisees reported that Herod wanted to kill Jesus. Jesus' response challenged any such plans: "Tell Herod I've got work to do first." Jesus was not implying that Herod was sly, rather he was commenting on Herod's ineptitude, or inability, to carry out his threat. Jesus questioned the tetrarch's pedigree, moral stature and leadership, and put the tetrarch "in his place." This exactly fits the rabbinic usage of "fox." Fox did not mean then what it means now. Jesus was cutting Herod down to size, and Jesus' audience may have had an inward smile of appreciation at the retort.

Herod was a pompous pretender. Jesus was direct. Antipas was a shu·al ben shu·al (a fox, the son of a fox). In other words - a small-fry.

It may come as a surprise to Christian listeners, who are used to thinking of Pharisees as hypocrites and enemies of Jesus, that in this passage it is Pharisees who warn Jesus to flee from Galilee because Herod wants to kill him. Not all Pharisees were hostile to Jesus. While Jesus and the Pharisees did not see things eye to eye, we find in Luke and Acts that Pharisees are often in the company of Jesus and not always antagonistic. Jesus is often invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner (Luke 7:36, 11:37; 14:1). In Acts 5:33-39, when the Jewish Sanhedrin wanted to kill the apostles, a well-known Pharisee, Gamaliel, counsels them to be careful how they treat these men. If the undertaking of the apostles is of human origin, Gamaliel says, it will fail; "but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them in that case you may even be found fighting against God!" Some Pharisees had even become Christians (Acts 15:5). And of course we know that Paul himself was a Pharisee. In fact, in his defense before the Sanhedrin he uses the present tense and says, "I am a Pharisee" (Acts 23:6).

Today's passage almost has the feel of Aesop's fables with barnyard animals playing a starring role. In the short space of five verses, we find pictures of both a fox and a hen. Herod is called a fox. Jesus says he feels like a mother hen. And the people in Jerusalem are all the little chicks running around in great danger.

There is an old proverb that warns, "The fox is in charge of the henhouse." We might use that expression when we put the oil companies in charge of making sure we don't have price gouging during an oil crisis. There's a fox in charge of the hen house.

Jesus describes Herod as a "fox," a fascinating choice. I am sure that Herod would have preferred a nobler mascot. A fox is an animal noted for cunning, craftiness and slyness. A fox will prey on the young of others. And Herod could be just that ruthless, as we see in the fate of John the Baptist. Herod is a symbol for raw, political power.

Why a hen? Why not a lion, King of the jungle? Why not an eagle? Why not a mighty warrior on a white horse from Revelation? We want to hear about the one with eyes like a flame of fire and with the armies of heaven following him. We want to hear about the sword that comes from his mouth and strikes the nations. I prefer to tell you a story of victory and conquest. I even want to say that the hen is victorious over the fox. In the end it is true, but first he has to die.

The well-known preacher Barbara Brown Taylor says, "Jesus won't be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first." Jesus came to be a suffering servant and live a life of self-sacrifice. And he calls us to that life as well.

It was interesting to watch a young mother mallard take care of all seven of her ducklings. When anyone approached the lake, she became immediately aware and would gather her little brood together and hustle them along to hide in the reeds and brush that surrounded the edge of the lake. Once, someone went really close to get a better look, and she flew away. It might surprise you at first that a mother was abandoning her young. But then it became obvious what she was up to: She was offering herself as a decoy. She wanted the intruders to notice and follow her, away form her ducklings. She was willing to sacrifice herself in order to protect her offspring.

Now maybe we can understand the lament and the passion in Jesus' own voice. It is the cry of a mother who is worried to death about not only Jerusalem, but about all of us. Like a mother, Jesus sees far more clearly than do we, the children, the danger we are in. Like a mother, Jesus knows we tend to over-estimate our powers and are prone to go off on our own, leaving the protective wings, to seek our own excitement and adventure. And like a mother, Jesus chases after us.

Do you see the image? Like a mother, Jesus' love is so great that his all-consuming passion is to sweep us up into his protective arms. And although there are others in pursuit of him, namely Herod, Jesus, like a mother is persistent. He sticks to what his love compels him to do. He pursues his flock with a passion. His answer to Herod shows that: He has a little work to do in Galilee yet, a few chicks to sweep beneath his wings; and then, he is headed to Jerusalem, where he will, in essence, fly off from his chicks alone and draw God's judgment to him so that the jaws of death might sink their teeth into his flesh only, and not into his children whom he loves with a mother-hen's protective passion.

What would you do if someone gave you one million dollars and then told you to come back as often as you liked and you could have whatever money you needed whenever you wanted?  Just ask and it is yours.  What if he told you to tell all your friends and they could also come and have a million dollars?  Do you think you would tell your friends?  Do you think you would show up regularly to receive more from this very wealthy and very generous person?

What would you think if you told your friends and they had you arrested?  What would you think if people said you were an idiot for getting money from this generous person?  What if people killed you for telling them about this person who was giving away free money?  Would you expect people to accuse you of being narrow minded when you told people that they couldn't get free money from any other person?  Would you expect people to say things like, "You know if we get our money every week, we won't really appreciate it?" Would you expect people to hunt down this very wealthy, very generous person and kill him?

Welcome to the world of the prophet.  If you were to take these examples and replace the money with forgiveness, you would exactly describe the insanity that faces the prophet, the apostle, and all the messengers of God.  God wants to cover us in His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation and for some reason, that makes people angry.

In Mission, British Columbia, a fellow by the name of Ike tells the story about his Grandpa's hen house which burned to the ground one day. Ike arrived just in time to help put out the last of the fire. As he and his grandfather sorted through the wreckage, they came upon one hen lying dead near what had been the door of the hen house. Her top feathers were singed brown by the fire's heat, her neck limp. Ike bent down to pick up the dead hen. As he did the hen's four chicks came scurrying out from beneath her burnt body. The chicks survived because they were insulated by the shelter of the hen's wings.

There's a Peanuts cartoon that I've kept for years that I think speaks to this text.

In the first frame, Lucy is standing next to a tree. Looking up, she shouts to Linus, "What are you doing in that tree?"

Linus answers from the branches of the tree, "Looking for something." Then he adds, "Can you see Snoopy? We climbed up here together, but now I don't see him."

Lucy unsympathetically shouts back up the tree, "Beagles can't climb trees." The next frame shows Snoopy falling out of the tree right on his head with a loud "klunk." "You're right!" Snoopy concludes.

Then Lucy lets Snoopy have it, "You stupid Beagle, what are you doing climbing around in a tree?" Snoopy's sore head is still spinning.

Linus interrupts from the tree, "Don't yell at him.... We're trying to find a strange creature in a nest...."

Lucy walks off saying, "You're both crazy! Go ahead and knock yourselves out! I couldn't care less!!"

Then Snoopy with his head still sore and spinning things, "Rats...I was hoping for a hug!"

When we've been stupid and we have hurt ourselves we generally like to be hugged. Children know this; snoopy knew it; but we adults sometimes get it wrong. We don't like to admit our faults. God help us if there are a lot of Lucy's around. Jesus looks out over the city of Jerusalem, badly in need of divine comfort. In their stupidity they have killed the Prophets and stoned the messengers of God. They need to experience God's forgiveness but they are doing it again. Jesus has come with a word of grace and they will not listen. As a result the house of Israel will be left desolate.

Everything was almost ready for Holy Baptism. The water was poured, the oil for anointing was prepared. The baby was very quiet, being held by the parents. But as the baptismal candle was lighted, the 3-year-old brother was heard to exclaim: "Uh-oh! That's gonna hurt!"

Listen to these great hymns that were sung during Jesus’ day in the Synagogues and Temple worship in Jerusalem.

• Hide me in the shadow of thy wings. 17:8.
• In the shadow of thy wings I will take refuge till the storms of destruction pass by. 57:1
• Oh to be safe under the shelter of thy wings. 61:4
• In the shadow of thy wings I sing for joy. 63:7
• Under his wings you will find refuge. 91:4

How do we know these songs were sung? They are the songs found in the book Psalms. Psalm 17, 36, 57, 61, 63, and 91 speak of the protective wings of God. So when Jesus expressed his desire to comfort Jerusalem he used an image widely understood, “I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gather’s her chicks under her wings.” But Jesus’ desires go unfulfilled for Jerusalem was “unwilling,” Jesus said, to receive the shelter he offered.

But let us not miss a significant point being advanced here: In the Psalms it is Yahweh who longs to gather Israel under his protective wings. Here in the Gospel of Luke it is Jesus. An equation is being drawn. Jesus equals God. How very sad then that Israel refused.

Robert Fulton, an artist and engineer was responsible in the early 1800's for putting sailing ships out of business. He made the steamboat a standard on the open seas. It is said that he presented his idea to Napoleon. After a few minutes of this presentation Napoleon is reported to have said, "What, sir, you would make a ship sail against the wind and currents by lighting a bonfire under her decks? I pray you excuse me. I have no time to listen to such nonsense."

Have you ever seen a chicken hawk go after it's prey? The old mother hen is often aware of the presence of the hawk in time to gather her chicks under her wing. With a furious fuss she squawks till her brood is safe by her side. She fluffs out her wings and protects them with her own body. The chicken hawk dives and the old hen turns her body toward him and cocks a wary eye without moving from her children. The predator comes in again for the kill and the mother spreads her wings even wider. A third time he dives only to be thwarted by the determined self-sacrifice of the mother hen. She is too big to be a target and the chicks are too safe to be seized so he flies away.

Perhaps we need Santa at Christmas to help us be merry and joyous because we have a flawed understanding of Jesus. From today's gospel text we learn that the first reaction to Jesus' presence on earth, of God-in-our-midst, was joy. Joy so tremendous, joy so utterly overwhelming that it must somehow escape the bounds of earth itself and jump towards the heavens.

In John Ortberg's wonderful book The Life You've Always Wanted (Zondervan,2002), he writes: We will not understand God until we understand this about him: "God is the happiest being in the universe" (G. K. Chesterton). Yes, God knows sorrow. Jesus is remembered, among other things, as a 'man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.' But the sorrow of God, like the anger of God, is his temporary response to a fallen world. That sorrow will be banished forever from his heart on the day the world is set right. Joy is God's basic character. God is the happiest being in the universe.

Joy is what makes Christmas. Each of us may look to some annual family tradition to trigger that joy. But the trees, the carols, the cookies, the presents, the parties, are only various expressions of a single experience of the spirit JOY born again into our souls.

I love the story of a Christian missionary hiking the high Andean trails to a remote village in Peru. He found a rock along the road, a curious geode, and put it in his backpack as a souvenir. That evening he strode into the village to a very unfriendly welcome. No one offered him a bed. No one asked him to sit by their fire. He learned that a famine had plagued the Indians for over a month. And the people were starving. Each was simply afraid to share amidst so much deprivation. 

Praying to Jesus how to help them, he got an idea. Calling the Indians around a campfire he preached God's loving care in Christ. Then he said, "I'm going to feed you by making some stone soup. Yummm! It's tasty! I grew up on it! And you'll like it just fine!" Then he opened his backpack and produced the rock he'd found that morning. 

The Indians scoffed, "Stone soup! Why that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" 

"Trust me," the missionary assured them. "See! I've brought the stone. But I'm going to need a pot to put it in." An Indian woman quickly volunteered her pot. 

"And I'll need about two large buckets of water to boil the stone in." A man, shaking his head, brought the water. So, in went the stone, in went the water, and over the fire the pot was suspended. Curious now, the villagers began to gather around the pot, peering into its contents. The missionary began to stir the pot and drool. "You know, stone soup sure is good with carrots!" To which an Indian said, "I've got six carrots!" He quickly fetched them and they were cut up into the pot. Then the missionary smelled deeply of the bubbly broth and sighed, "Some potatoes sure would add to the flavor." From pockets and other hiding places came dozens of spuds. They were quickly added to the soup. Soon people were bringing onions, celery, and bits of meat to top off the pot of stone soup. And within the hour a community was formed around that stew pot. All ate. And all were filled and they heard the story of Jesus Christ. 

Hebrews 11:32 - "And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephtah, of David and Samuel and the prophets -"

"Prophet" is the Greek word used in the Greek Old Testament to translate a Hebrew word whose meaning is obscure; the Greek meant a person who spoke or interpreted oracles, and therefore was not speaking his own thoughts, but those of a god. Although the word in essence means "forth-telling," not "fore-telling," still part of the Greek word means "before," and since they considered prophecies and prophetic utterances to deal with future events and foreknowledge, it was not difficult for them to take the next step and consider that the prophetic message was a predictive one. They also felt that a prophet must necessarily speak while in an ecstatic state, so that the god might speak through him. It was this idea of the prophet as giving ecstatic predictions that has colored and misinterpreted our understanding through the centuries.

While it is true, as stated above, that the meaning of the Hebrew word is obscure, the most generally accepted scholarly opinion is that it merely meant "to announce;" but this announcement was on divine order, and so, finally, the prophet was one "who utters a God-given message." This could be, and often was, a prediction of future events, usually a warning of doom if conditions were not improved, but it did not have to be such a message. Whatever it involved, it came directly from God, and it is for this that we remember the prophets - as spokesmen for God.

In this way, we can see that the prophet differs from the priest. While both were communicators, they were on opposite sides of the fence, so to speak - the priest carried the words and petitions of the people to God, while the prophet carried God’s messages to the people.

We have a wide range of individuals in the ranks of the prophets - from the early ecstatics to the sophiscated such as Isaiah; from those who acted out their prophecies to those who were almost fantastically visionary; from those who were specifically ethical to those who were seemingly objective. All of which tells us that God never goes by any man’s rules - he chooses the best and most effective medium at any one time. And certainly the disparity of the prophets is proof of that.

Prophecy, as such, had long disappeared by New Testament times, although we find the use of the term in connection with New Testament men (and women, too). But in the New Testament, it refers to preachers and evangelists; they were Christian teachers to whom the Spirit, at times, made special direct communication and who interpreted God’s will to man.

Today, of course, the pastor or preacher or minister of a congregation fulfills the role of the prophet. In fact, this is one of the specific elements within the call to preach.

1 Chronicles 22:2 - "David commanded to gather together the aliens who were in the land of Israel, and he set stonecutters to prepare dressed stones for building the house of God."

As we know, the Hebrews, in their early history, were a nomadic people, and, as such, they needed homes which were readily portable as they moved from one grazing ground to another. However, as they settled into a more agricultural existence, their habits and modes of living changed. They soon discovered that the tents which they had formerly occupied, and even those houses of clay which they had built when they settled in Canaan, were vulnerable to attack by robbers and enemies.

So, they looked around for more permanent and satisfactory building materials. Canaan is a very stony land, and sandstone in particular is common there. It was, then, a natural development that they should start making homes of stone. Thus, the art of stonecutting and masonry was introduced.

Naturally, if stone was so good for the homes of the people, it had to be the material that was used for the house of God. After all, God required the finest efforts of his people, and their best achievements. So, as our text tells us, David started his project with orders to round up all the craftsmen that would be needed - among them stonecutters.

If we read the accounts of the construction of the Temple, as recorded in the first book of Kings, we find that the foundation consisted of great hewn stones, and that the superstructure was also of stone. The repairs made later by Jehoash and Josiah included hewn stones, and they are also mentioned in connection with the materials used for the second temple.

1 Kings 5:15 tells us that Solomon gathered together 80,000 stonecutters to provide these stones for the Temple. And Josephus says that the traditions of the Jews tell of stones in Solomon’s Temple that were 60 feet long! But there was more than just the Temple in Solomon’s Jerusalem. We know of the many building projects that he initiated. For example, we are told that his palace, and the house built for the Pharaoh’s daughter, were made of costly stones.

We may today see examples of Israelite stone work in the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem. A stone from the old city walls is fourteen feet long and 3 and 3/4 feet square. And, to further show how wide-spread the use of stone was in ancient times, there are remains of quarries in many places of the Holy Land.

Today, of course, we see deep gouges in many places in our land, where stone is quarried. The present day quarry worker is very similar to his ancient brothers. And in more than one respect - one of the first known labor strikes was conducted by stonecutters (in 600 B.C.) who were working on a Temple building project! And why? Because they hadn’t been paid for several months! Apparently the men of the past had more in common with men of our century than we would have expected!

When we think of modern day builders laying a corner stone, it is generally a small concrete box that contains current newspapers and other documents for future generations to break open and read about what took place during the era of construction. But not so during this period of time. The corner stone was the key to the rest of the structure. The appropriate stone in size and shape would be placed strategically so that the rest of the building might take its alignment and form based on the corner stone. The Maison Carre in Nimes, France, a 2000-year old Roman temple was constructed of huge stones. Pivotal among them was the corner stone; one stone of precise measurements, condition, and shape upon which the rest of the building would stand and be formed.

With this metaphor, the biblical writers established that the kingdom God built would be founded upon Jesus Christ. Every detail in its dimensions, shape, size, and form relates directed to Christ. Without the corner stone the building has no value.

It was to be his first trip back to China. He was born in China to missionary parents in the 1930s. When his parents had to flee China and return to the States because of the Second World War, however, Tom Stone came with them. And he had never been back; never seen the land of his birth -- until his journey in the 1990s. As the plane landed in Beijing his heart began to pound. What would it be like? Would he remember anything? What would he discover about himself in this land of his birth?

Tom Stone took in China like a breath of fresh air. He loved so very much of what it was. The Great Wall. China's bustling cities. The gentle people. The vast landscape. Wonderful! Breathtaking! Exciting! How good it was to be home again. He found China much to his liking except for one thing -- one thing that he had not expected to find. He thought the great Chairman Mao Tse-tung was dead and gone. Not so. It seemed like he ran into the image of the Chairman at every turn.

Tom knew that Chairman Mao had written The Little Red Book as a kind of "bible" of his thoughts. Tom assumed that The Little Red Book was a thing of the past, tucked away with memories of the Chairman. But it was not so. The Little Red Book was for sale everywhere. The Chairman's "bible" functioned like the "bible" for many Chinese people.

If it wasn't The Little Red Book that reminded Tom Stone of the Chairman there were plenty of other reminders. Aluminum buttons with Mao's picture on it were abundantly evident. He saw them everywhere on people's clothing. People wore them proudly as a way to venerate their great ancestor. "Was this just nostalgia?" Tom wondered, "or are these people looking to Mao as a kind of god?"

Once he had become aware of the presence of Mao, Tom Stone found him everywhere. Posters and portraits of the Chairman were omnipresent. "Why do you hang his picture like that?" Tom asked one day. "Mao's picture helps to ward off evil spirits," he was told. Elsewhere Tom saw a woman trudging up the streets caressing a tiny bronze statue of Mao. "Mao made us proud of China," the woman said to Tom. "Our leaders now dishonor his name."

Tom Stone had discovered that for millions and millions of Chinese citizens Mao Tse-tung still lives and is believed to exercise supernatural powers on behalf of his people. Perhaps the greatest sign of all this was the way in which Mao had become the "St. Christopher" of China. Nearly every taxi he entered and every truck that he saw carrying goods for the life blood of modern day China, prominently displayed a portrait of Chairman Mao. His face dangled from rear view mirrors or was plastered on the dash board of their vehicles. Mao Tse-tung was, indeed, respected and venerated as a godlike man.

Tom Stone had read much on China. He had read much on Mao Tse-tung. He knew that Chairman Mao sought to portray himself to his people as one larger than life. Mao was a man who was sorely tempted to reach for the stars. He was a mortal who reached for immortality. He was a man who would be god. Millions of Chinese people today firmly believe that Mao was, indeed, a man who would be god."

Death is no respecter of persons, or families. There is an Eastern legend about a Hindu woman whose only child had died. She went to a prophet to ask for her child back. The prophet told her to go and obtain a handful of rice from a house into which death had not come. If she could obtain the rice in this way, he promised to give her the child back. From door to door she asked the question, "Are you all here around the table fathers, mothers, children...none missing?" But always the answer came back that there were empty chairs in each house. As she continued on, her grief and sorrow softened as she found that death had visited all families. Yes, death is universal; our painful experience is not the only one of its kind. Because God is faithful, because Jesus Christ is alive, so is your loved one and mine.

Do you remember the Legend of the Touchstone? It's a great story to recall on Easter Sunday morning. According to that ancient legend, if you could find the touchstone on the coast of the Black Sea and hold it in your hand, everything you touched would turn to gold. You could recognize the touchstone by its warmth. The other stones would feel cold, but when you picked up the touchstone, it would turn warm in your hand.

Once a man sold everything he had and went to the coast of the Black Sea in search of the touchstone. He began immediately to walk along the shoreline picking up one stone after another in his diligent and intentional search for the touchstone. He was consumed with this dream. He wanted desperately to find this miraculous stone. However, after several days had passed, he suddenly realized that he was picking up the same stones again and again. So he devised a plan... pick up a stone; if it's cold, throw it into the sea. This he did for weeks and weeks.

Then one morning he went out to continue his search for the touchstone. He picked up a stone; it was cold... he threw it into the sea. He picked up another stone - cold! He threw it into the sea. He picked up another stone... it turned warm in his hand, and before he realized what he was doing... he threw it into the sea!

That's a good parable for Easter, isn't it? Because that can so easily happen to us. We can come upon a miraculous moment like Easter... we can feel it turn warm in our hands... but then (so dulled by the routine) before we realize what we are doing... we throw it away. Absentmindedly, mechanically, nonchalantly... we toss it aside and miss the miracle of Easter.

In Greek mythology, Hades, the god of the Underworld, the god of the Dead, is the most hated of all the immortals, because he is the only god who never answers prayer. Never. The exception that proves the rule is the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus was the greatest of mortal musicians. When his beloved wife, Eurydice, died, he simply could not accept the finality of that loss. So he took his harp and journeyed to the Underworld. There he played so beautifully, sang so poignantly of mortal sorrow, that tears of molten iron ran down the implacable face of Hades, and for the only time ever recorded, he relented. Eurydice would be permitted to follow Orpheus back into the world of the living, the world of the sun. But he must not look behind him until they had both safely emerged from the darkness of Hades' realm back into the sunlight.

So imagine what he is feeling as he begins the long walk through the tunnel. He sees the small point of light at the end, and he begins to hear faint footsteps, growing ever more solid, as Eurydice begins to resume physical form. How he wants to look and see her again, to verify that it is her footsteps that he hears! But he dare not. And now they have almost emerged. One more step and the quest will be achieved life snatched back from the grave! But at that moment she stumbles against a stone and cries out, and by instinct, without thinking, he turns to catch her and keep her from falling. But he has broken the ban, he has violated the requirement, he has transgressed the taboo. And so he turns only to see her for one intolerably heartbreaking moment reaching for him as she evaporates and fades back into the mist, forever lost in the darkness.

Hades is the only god who never answers prayer. And that is the hardest thing about Death to accept: that impenetrable stone wall suddenly erected across your path, that steel door slammed in your face. No matter how important and essential the deceased was to your life, you aren't getting him back. That is what makes it the great and final Enemy. The Apsotle Paul says, "The last enemy to be defeated is death" (1 Cor. 15:26). We live with that promise because Jesus overcame death!

But before the resurrection, it's no wonder the people were filled with terror and awe when the dead man sat up and began to speak.

There is an ancient legend about the monk who found a precious stone, a precious jewel. A short time later, the monk met a traveler, who said he was hungry and asked the monk if he would share some of his provisions. When the monk opened his bag, the traveler saw the precious stone and, on an impulse, asked the monk if he could have it. Amazingly, the monk gave the traveler the stone.

The traveler departed quickly overjoyed with his new possession. However, a few days later, he came back, searching for the monk. He returned the stone to the monk and made a request: "Please give me that which enabled you to give me this precious stone!"

A commitment of the whole heart, that's what heaven, the Kingdom of Heaven requires of its followers. I love this last parable because Jesus does not say the Kingdom of Heaven is like a pearl of great price. He says the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant, a merchant who finds a great deal on a flawless stone and does everything in his power to close the sale. That's commitment to a greater cause. That's sacrifice and hard work. That's what heaven is like. Amen.

A man named Coulson Kernahan once related a remarkable dream-allegory called “The Man of No Sorrows.”

A prophet from the orient arrived in London and announced that he was the savior of the world. What made him stand out was his proclamation that sorrow and pain have no place in the universe. He declared that human society will never be saved until sorrow is discredited.

The people eagerly accepted this teaching, as you might imagine, and tears and sorrow were banished from human society.

Jesus quoted the words of the Psalmist: "The very stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner..." (Ps. 118:22) Later Simon Peter would quote these words to the rulers and the elders in testimony concerning the good news of Christ. (Acts 4:11) Later he would cite those words again in his epistles. (I Pet. 2:7)

There was a legend that was well known in New Testament times that in the building of the temple of Solomon most of the stones were of the same size and shape. One stone arrived, however, that was different from the others. The builders took one look at it and said, "This will not do," and sent it rolling down into the valley of Kedron below. The years passed and the great temple was nearing completion, and the builders sent a message to the stonecutters to send the chief cornerstone that the structure might be complete. The cutters replied that they had sent the stone years before. Then someone remembered the stone that was different than all the rest that somehow did not seem to belong. They realized that they had thrown away the cornerstone. They hurried into the valley to retrieve it. Finally under vines and debris they recovered it and with great effort rolled it up the hill and put it in place so that the great temple would be complete. The stone that had been rejected had become the chief cornerstone. Jesus, who had been rejected now reigns at the right hand of the Father. From rejection to rejoicing.

A guide at Blarney Castle in Ireland was explaining to some visitors that his job was not always as pleasant as it seemed. He told them about a group of disgruntled tourists he had taken to the castle earlier in the week.

"These people were complaining about everything," he said. "They didn't like the weather, the food, their hotel accommodations, the prices, everything. Then to top it off, when we arrived at the castle, we found that the area around the Blarney Stone was roped off. Workmen were making some kind of repairs." "This is the last straw!" exclaimed one lady who seemed to be the chief faultfinder in the group. "I've come all this way, and now I can't even kiss the Blarney Stone."

"Well, you know," the guide said, "according to legend, if you kiss someone who has kissed the stone, it's the same as kissing the stone itself." "And I suppose you've kissed the stone," said the exasperated lady. "Better than that." replied the guide. "I've sat on it."

"Shunem: Site of the Prophet Elisha's Resurrection Miracle." If they had had road signs in the days of old this might have been the sign that welcomed you to Shunem. All the people of Shunem and all the people in the cities around Shunem surely knew of Elisha's miraculous feat. This was an area known for its prophets!

Elisha's prophetic forerunner, Elijah, was the first prophet to raise a young man to life. It happened in Zarephath (1 Kings 17:8-24). Perhaps it is not surprising that Elisha also raised a young man to life. We are told, after all, that Elisha inherited a double share of Elijah's spirit!

In a story told in 2 Kings 4 we hear that Elijah came to Shunem one day and had a bite to eat at the home of a wealthy woman. Since there were no fast food restaurants in Elisha's day, he stopped quite often at the house of the Shunammite woman to get something to eat. The woman sensed that Elisha was a holy one of God. So she persuaded her husband to fix up a permanent guest room for Elisha. She invited Elisha to stop and stay with them whenever he passed through Shunem. And he did. Free room and board is a pretty good deal, after all!

Now Elisha was an honorable man. He thought he should really give this woman some kind of gift. He told his servant Gehazi to ask the Shunammite woman what gift he might give to her. Gehazi went. He discovered that the woman was quite content with what she had. She asked for nothing. "But there must be something we can give this woman," Elisha insisted to Gehazi. Then Gehazi had a wonderful idea. "This woman has no child and her husband is old," he said to Elisha. Elisha got the point. He announced to the woman of Shunem that, "At this season, when the time comes round, you shall embrace a son" (2 Kings 4:16). And it came to pass just as Elisha had promised. One day years later, the son of the woman of Shunem went out among the reapers to be with his father. Suddenly he began to complain bitterly. "Oh, my head, my head!" he shrieked.

"Carry the lad to his mother," the father ordered. The reapers did so. The boy lay on his mother's lap until noon, and then he died. The Shunammite woman carried her son straightway to Elisha's guest room and laid him on Elisha's very own bed. She then set out to Mt. Carmel determined to find Elisha. When she found the prophet she fell before him and took hold of his feet. "Did I ask my Lord for a son?" she pleaded. "Did I not say, 'Do not mislead me'?" (2 Kings 4:28).

Elisha got the point. He returned to Shunem, went to his room where the dead boy lay, shut the door and began to pray. Elisha then stretched himself upon the boy and breathed his breath into him. Soon the child sneezed seven times and then opened his eyes. "Take your son," Elisha said to the woman of Shunem.

"Shunem: Site of the Prophet Elisha's Resurrection Miracle." Thus a sign at the city gate might have read. The city of Nain was just a stone's throw down the road from Shunem. The citizens of Nain undoubtedly basked in Shunem's glory. They, too, believed themselves to live in a land where prophets do miracles."

Listen for a moment, to the story of one of the most dramatic victories we Christians know anything about.

The night Jesus was born angels came to shepherds near Bethlehem, and one said, "I bring you good news of a great joy." That was a happy greeting.

But a deep, dark valley of sorrow lay between that salutation and the joy it promised. For the new-born Child, trials and sufferings began almost immediately. When he was just a baby a jealous king tried to kill him. When he grew up the people at Nazareth threw him out of their city. He became a wandering teacher - homeless, often hungry and weary, tempted and sorely tried. He was hated, accused, denied, betrayed. At last, there came a Friday when a wreath of thorns was pressed hard on his brow, and he was spat upon, scourged with whips, nailed to a cross, and by mid-afternoon he was dead. Before sundown, his body was placed in a tomb, lent for the purpose through the generosity of a kind-hearted man. The life whose beginning was heralded by the happy song of angels had been one long sequence of heartbreak and pain.

But the story does not end here. On the first Sunday following his burial, very early in the morning, Jesus met his friends walking in the garden outside the tomb, and his first word was this: "All hail!" - the Greek word "chairete," "Joy be to you!" "Be of good cheer!"

This greeting was a happy one, this greeting in the garden. Here, perhaps not more than an hour away from the tomb, Jesus picked up the theme of joy precisely where the angels had left it more than thirty years before. And here today, nearly 2,000 years later, let us echo that theme again: "Be of good cheer: we bring you good news of a great joy!"

Easter is a magnificent day! It is the most significant day of the entire year. It is a day of celebration ... the finest clothes, lilies trumpeting their beautiful fragrance, Christian fellowship, joyful greetings ... nothing can be too good. On Easter we celebrate new hope and the possibility of living life to its fullest. God is saying to us that his blessings and love are ours. Good and even great days are now possible for us with the best of days still to come in heaven.

What problems lurk in your life? Are you afraid of death? Are you afraid of life? Easter proclaims that you can be victorious over any problem that you might face. Victory can be yours by believing in Easter and by appropriating Easter into your daily life.

But what is Easter? Easter is power. The power of God released which raised a dead Son after he had been in the grave for three days. Many gravestones carry the inscription, "Here lies ...," but on Christ’s tomb are the words, "He is not here." In Joseph’s garden is history’s only empty grave. I believe Christ rose from the dead, and I believe the resurrection power of God is still being unleashed today.

God wants to resurrect us from whatever defeat is in our lives and then give us a victorious death. He wants to resurrect us from a life of loneliness and gloom into one of meaning and joy. He wants to resurrect us from a life deadened by fear to a life enlivened by confidence. He especially wants to resurrect us from our own personal death into his very own personal paradise.

So roll back the stone of any unbelief in your hearts, behold the glory of the empty tomb, and thrill to the power that can now be yours. Place your weak and trembling hand into his and say with Thomas, "My Lord and my God." Belief in Jesus and his resurrection is the key that delivers us from fear and sorrow. Jesus is the key to personal happiness, to peace, and to life everlasting. You can know this peace, you can know this joy, you can have this power, if today you will commit yourself to him, and then say with your whole heart, "I know that my Redeemer lives!"

1 Samuel 9:9 - "Formerly in Israel, when a man went to inquire of God, he said, ‘Come let us go to the seer’; for he who is now called a prophet was formerly called a seer."

It is presumed (especially when reading our text), that the office of the seer antedated the office of prophet in Israel, although the functions of each were the same. Our text is probably a gloss on the original text, added at a later date by someone who realized that Samuel was not a member of a roving band of ecstatics, such as the early prophets (see PROPHET), but that he was a solitary man in close communication with God, who spoke the messages of God.

The office of the prophet, as we generally think of it, did not clearly emerge until the tenth century B.C. at the earliest, but it is obvious that there were, at all times, men who were tuned in on God’s wave length, if we may say so, and who were commissioned to present God’s messages to the people. It is quite possible that the office of seer was lifted from the Canaanites, and then made into a distinctively Israelite profession through a process of refinement.

We do have specific instances of the non-Hebrew seer, who was actually a messenger of Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews. For example, in Numbers 22 to 24, we have the story of Balaam, a seer who was employed by the king of Moab at the time of the Israelites’ wanderings, but who actually became a spokesman for God.

However, there is one thing that we must remember - the earlier the time with which we are dealing, the more primitive the concepts, so it should be no surprise to us that the seers were often dabblers in fortune-telling and became involved with the baser forms of divination, such as wizardry, necromancy, and such practices which has been expressly forbidden. But there is a mysterious fascination about things, and the temptation was great. So we find that there were degenerate seers also in Israel.

I suppose that if we wish to make a more specific differentiation between seer and prophet, we might be justified in saying that the seer made his powers his profession and livelihood, and his functioning was habitually passive: he waited to be consulted. The great prophets, on the other hand, were men of all walks of life who were literally "plucked out of their ways of life" by God, and were driven to deliver God’s messages to his people.

Today I don’t suppose we have a profession or calling that parallels that of the seer, although we might not be too far off base if we compare him to the modern-day fortune-teller, who makes his living off the credibility of others, and who, in more cases than not, will predict what he knows the client wants to hear, rather than jeopardize that living.

The story is told of a fourth wise man who had followed the Star announcing the birth of Jesus. He, too, went to Bethlehem with a gift for the Savior. His gift was that of precious jewels to give to Jesus.

On his way to Bethlehem he found a man who had been beaten and robbed by thieves and left to die. The wise man took the injured man to an inn and paid for his care with one of the jewels that had been meant for Jesus.

When he finally arrived in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph had fled to Egypt with Jesus. He found that Herod and his soldiers were killing children and that Mary and Joseph had escaped with Jesus. The wise man saw a soldier preparing to kill one of the children of Bethlehem and so he bribed him with another jewel to save the child's life. The mother's tears of gratitude was all he needed to hear.

The wise man went on to Egypt in pursuit of Jesus and his parents. However, while in Egypt the wise man became ill and a kind but poor woman nursed him back to health. On one occasion he found this woman crying and soon discovered why. Her son had been forced to join the army and now this woman was very distraught. The wise man was so grateful to this woman for all she had done that he used his last jewel and bought her son out of the army. Now he had nothing to offer Jesus.

Thirty years had passed and many other journeys, until the man thought that he should return to his home town. On his journey home, as he was passing through Jerusalem there was a large crowd. It was the day that Jesus was to be crucified. Upon learning this he stood with the crowd hoping that he still might see Jesus.

As he stood waiting to see Jesus, a tile from a nearby roof fell and landed on the wise man's head and killed him. Some might argue that his life was a failure because he never brought his gifts to Jesus. Yet, because he believed in Jesus as God's anointed, he was transported to heaven. There in heaven he finally saw Jesus. Jesus was on his throne and wearing a crown. The wise man could barely believe his eyes when he saw the crown of Jesus. In the center of the crown were the three jewels he had given to help others.

Jesus said, "When we do it to the least of these, you do it unto me."

Adapted by Stuart Robertson, Balanced Burdens (London: Hodder and Stoughton, Limited), p. 142.

Jesus went into the synagogue on the Sabbath and saw a man with a crippled hand. He knew that the Pharisees were watching to see what he would do, and he felt angry that they were only out to put him in the wrong. They did not care a scrap for the handicapped man, nor did they want to see the power and love of God brought to bear on him.

There were other instances where Jesus showed anger or sternness. He "sternly charged" the leper whom he had healed not to tell anyone about it (Mark 1:43) because he foresaw the problems of being pursued by a huge crowd of thoughtless people who were interested only in seeing miracles and not in his teaching. But the leper disobeyed and so made things very hard for Jesus.

Jesus showed anger again when the disciples tried to send away the mothers and their children (Mark 10:13-16). He was indignant and distressed at the way the disciples were thwarting his loving purposes and giving the impression that he did not have time for ordinary people.

He showed anger once more when he drove "out those who sold and those who bought in the temple" (Mark 11:15-17). God's house of prayer was being made into a den of thieves and God was not being glorified hence Jesus' angry words and deeds. Commenting on this, Warfield wrote: "A man who cannot be angry, cannot be merciful." The person who cannot be angry at things which thwart God's purposes and God's love toward people is living too far away from his fellow men ever to feel anything positive towards them.

Finally, at Lazarus' grave Jesus showed not just sympathy and deep distress for the mourners (John 11:33-35), but also a sense of angry outrage at the monstrosity of death in God's world. This is the meaning of "deeply moved" in John 11:38.

The first perversion of the doctrine of the second coming of Christ is perpetrated by those I'm going to call "prophecy mongers." You know these people. They come with their charts and graphs, with their predictions and projections, claiming to have special insight into the workings of God in the world, so that they're able to cue us in on just where we are in the divine timetable. And somehow, every political event of the past fifty years fits neatly into their scheme of things. But Jesus said that no one not even himself knew the day or the hour of his coming, but only the Father.

But there is another distortion of this doctrine that is equally vitiating although in comes from a completely different direction. Here I refer to those who, far from exaggerating the eschatology of Jesus, want to minimize it because they are embarrassed. They rationalize it or demythologize it or spiritualize it, so that they can embrace Jesus and his teachings without getting all the supernatural trimmings that go with it. The fundamentalist and the rationalist share a common assumption about the second coming. They both assume that this is teaching we can easily understand and exploit and have at our disposal, so that it no longer threatens us, no longer hangs over our heads like Damocles's word, ready to fall upon us and shatter our pretty pretensions into a thousand smithereens. The fundamentalist over explains the second coming, and so takes away its mystery, while the rationalist explains it away, robbing it of its meaning.

Jesus said, "Keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." It is here at the point of waiting that most of us have our greatest difficulty.

Then Vice President George Bush represented the U.S. at the funeral of former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev. Bush was deeply moved by a silent protest carried out by Brezhnev's widow. She stood motionless by the coffin until seconds before it was closed. Then, just as the soldiers touched the lid, Brezhnev's wife performed an act of great courage and hope, a gesture that must surely rank as one of the most profound acts of civil disobedience ever committed: She reached down and made the sign of the cross on her husband's chest. There in the citadel of secular, atheistic power, the wife of the man who had run it all hoped that her husband was wrong. She hoped that there was another life, and that that life was best represented by Jesus who died on the cross, and that the same Jesus might yet have mercy on her husband.

It was June 18, 1815, the Battle of Waterloo. The French under the command of Napoleon were fighting the Allies (British, Dutch, and Germans) under the command of Wellington. The people of England depended on a system of semaphore signals to find out how the battle was going. One of these signal stations was on the tower of Winchester Cathedral.

Late in the day it flashed the signal: "W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N- - -D-E-F­-E-A-T-E-D- -." Just at that moment one of those sudden English fog clouds made it impossible to read the message. The news of defeat quickly spread throughout the city. The whole countryside was sad and gloomy when they heard the news that their country had lost the war. Suddenly the fog lifted, and the remainder of the message could be read. The message had four words, not two. The complete message was: "W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N- - -D­ E-F-E-A-T-E-D- - -T-H-E- - -E-N-E-M-Y!" It took only a few minutes for the good news to spread. Sorrow was turned into joy, defeat was turned into victory!

So, it was when Jesus was laid in the tomb on the first Good Friday afternoon. Hope had died even in the hearts of Jesus' most loyal friends. After the frightful crucifixion, the fog of disappointment and misunderstanding had crept in on the friends of Jesus. They had "read" only part of the divine message. "Christ defeated" was all that they knew. But then on the third day— Easter Sunday—the fog of disappointment and misunderstanding lifted, and the world received the complete message: "Christ defeated death!" Defeat was turned into victory; death was turned to life!

What is at about human nature that makes us put off the most important things until a crisis looms? So often we coast in our relationships until they skid into a crisis. We think nothing of spending thousands on a car and blindly drive it by the homeless shelter everyday. We think nothing of a sixty-hour workweek but can't find time for dinner as a family.

We live lives of loneliness and sorrow because those things that could build our friendships, family, and faith get our leftover time.

Then, one day it is too late, we have waited too long. We are like the Rabbi who did not run to Jesus until his daughter was "at the point of death [eschatos]."

Take a moment to examine your life today. What is at the "eschatos"—the point of death — in your life right now? What part of your spiritual or relational life is barely breathing? Find ways to make those areas (family, friendships and faith) a higher priority than career and income. Do something different this week. Before scheduling anything else, book time with God, schedule an appointment with those in your own family. Then, after prioritizing God and your family, then set up the rest of the week.

In an age in which time is more and more limited and valuable, why do millions return to our sanctuaries week after week to listen to sermons? Though there are multiplied reasons, for many it is the desire to hear an authentic word from God. In lives that are torn by stress, puzzled by ethical questions, filled with anxiety about the future, they come to you as God's messenger to be reminded that their lives matter, that God cares, that there is hope. They come, as the Greeks came to Philip, saying, "Sir, we would see Jesus."

One young preacher expressed feelings of frustration about his place in the pulpit. He wrote: "I wish I did not hate preaching so much, but the degradation of being a Brighton preacher is almost intolerable…the pulpit has lost its place."

The writer was F. W. Robertson who, within a few years of his premature death in 1853, was being called one of England's greatest preachers. Perhaps more important than the accolades of historians are the words of one of his church members:

"I cannot describe…the strange sensation, during his sermon of union with him and communion with one another which filled us as he spoke…

Nor can I describe the sense we had of a higher Presence with us as he spoke—the sacred awe which filled our hearts—the hushed stillness in which the smallest sound was startling—the calm eagerness of men who listened as if waiting for a word of revelation to resolve the doubt or to heal the sorrow of a life."

No greater image of oppression and captivity exist today than that of World War II's Nazi concentration camps. Elie Wiesel, a teenager then, witnessed the death of many family members. He recalls the day when he, as well as the other prisoners, were finally liberated from Auschwitz by the allies. On that day powerful, strong soldiers broke down the fences of the concentration camp to release the prisoners. Frail, feeble, gaunt, and near death they were terrible victims of a horrible criminal evil.

In spite of his condition Wiesel remembers one solider, a strong black man who upon seeing the horror of human suffering was overcome with grief. He fell to his knees sobbing in a mix of disbelief and sorrow. The captives, now liberated, walked over to the soldier, put their arms around him, and offered comfort to him.

I can't help but wonder what it is that Jesus saw on that day he began his ministry. Looking out at those gathered in the synagogue, just as I am looking out at you this morning, as near as I can figure, he saw the same thing that strong black soldier saw: Terrible victims of a horrible criminal evil. Now this is no complement! Listen to his words: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, he has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.

We don't like to think of ourselves as victims of sin. But evil, in a manner of speaking, has had its own way with us and when Jesus arrived on the scene ready to liberate us prisoners I am sure he was over come with grief.

(If this is used as a sermon ender then finish with the line: The good news is that our Ally has Arrived. Amen!)

There's a story from World War II that's been told many times which occurred over the Pacific. Eddie Rickenbacker and some colleagues on an aircraft were shot down and managed to inflate a raft. The food and water were soon expended, and all hope for their rescue seemed to fade. As they related the story later, they described how together they had formed a prayer band and had prayed earnestly for deliverance. It was just at that time that a seemingly miraculous circumstance occurred. A seagull, clearly far off course, began to circle the raft, came lower and lower until at last they were able to capture it. They drank its blood and ate its flesh and were strengthened and sustained. The next day they were found and brought safely to shore. They told the story, and there was spread across the pages of the newspapers of the United States this answer to prayer.

The story then began to take a rather distorted turn. Without anyone really meaning to be judgmental or to cast aspersion on anyone else, there arose the notion that if only one had ample faith, a seagull would come. Now its a spiritual cause and effect; if only we had ample faith, our seagull would come. What about the hundreds of young fliers who had gone off to the Pacific, had been shot down, and were never seen again. We should resist with every fiber of our being the notion that somehow these were persons who had little if any faith, else a seagull would most certainly have come. The presence of the seagull for the persons on that raft was certainly a token that deliverance is always possible; at the same time, there was and is no indication in the New Testament that such deliverance on its own terms is promised. John dies in the prison; almost all the disciples are martyred. There were many persons in Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria in the time of Jesus who were not healed. There were many fliers for whom no seagull came. "Blessed is he that taketh no offense."

And the meaning for us? The basic assurance is that all things are working together for good, as Paul reminds us in Romans 8, and that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. But this is no guarantee of deliverance from all of the difficulties which beset us. Indeed, we are reminded in John 16 that "in the world we will have tribulation; but we can be of good cheer, for he has overcome the world." The true meaning of faith, then, is the capacity to believe even when no seagull comes, to know that beyond the vicissitudes and tribulations of life there is life transcendent; there is no more suffering nor sorrow nor crying.

If you have noticed that pastors often seem to dislike funeral chapels, you should know that the cause of the apparent animosity is not professional jealousy. The mortuary funeral chapel is used for only one purpose and is associated with nothing but death. The church building, on the other hand, is associated with all aspects of life. All kinds of things go on at churches - baptisms, weddings, potlucks, many types of meetings, day care, choir rehearsals, funerals, worship services, confirmations. Churches are associated with life in all its variety and splendor, in all its sorrow and pain. The church reminds us that the story of Jesus is more about life than about death.

The primary emphasis of John's declaration is to say who Jesus is (the Lamb of God) and also to say what Jesus does (takes away the sin of the world). This is all well and good, but the old Adam in me gets nervous when I have an encounter with a "sin stealer." I want to be as graphic and as plain as I can be about this Jesus is the ultimate sin stealer, and that troubles me. You can certainly use language that describes this reality in different terms, like "Jesus removes our sins," or "Jesus washed my sins away," but Jesus "rips us off" as far as our corporate and personal sins are concerned. I am a witness to this, because I was reared by a sin stealer, my mother. Now Daddy was a "sin reactor and responder," and I was the not always grateful recipient of his reactions and responses, but Mama was the sin stealer, the one who had the spiritual discernment and psychology to see that I would live in the benefits of John's declaration and Jesus' action.

This sin stealing was shown most clearly on an early spring day long ago, when my mother had made my favorite lunch for school. It was a small container of chocolate milk, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I went off to Public School 129, but a block and a half away, eager for the morning to pass so I could sink my teeth into one of those delicious cookies, but as I turned from Stuyvesant Ave on to Quincy Street I was face to face with Junebug, the bully of the block.

"Gimmie that lunch, punk!" he said.

"But, Junebug, that's my lunch."

"You better gimmie that lunch!"

"But it's mine. My Mom made it for me, and she made me my favorite ."

Junebug's right uppercut sent me and the lunch to the ground. He picked up the lunch and said, "That's what you get for not listening to me!" and went off to school. I also went off to school with no lunch and lots of anger.

At home that late afternoon I was very silent. Mama, knowing something was up, said, "What happened at school today?"

"I'm gonna kill him!"

"What?"

"I'm gonna kill him!"

"And who do you plan to kill?"

"Junebug. He beat me up, he stole my lunch, and I'm gonna kill him!"

Mama thought for awhile and then said, "Here, have some food. Don't start your homework right away there is something we need to do together, but you must do it as I say."

The next morning I saw Junebug in front of the school. He pointed to me and said, "Here is that punk who I stole cookies from yesterday!"

I walked up to him, handed him a bag and said, "Junebug, here are some cookies. They're for you. I and my mother made them."

"Whatta you mean, punk? Giving me cookies? I can take them from you anytime I want!"

"But we made them for you take them."

"Are they poison?"

"No, they're okay take them."

He took the bag from me and handed it to one of his buddies. "Hey, Bootsie, you try them."

"But they just may be poison," said Bootsie.

"Try them anyway, already! They just may be good!"

After one bite, and Bootsie still standing, Junebug passed out the cookies to his buddies, saying, "The punk has brought me, Junebug, some cookies! Isn't that great!"

The next day, I saw Junebug during recess. I walked up to him, gave him a bag and said, "Junebug, here are some more cookies. Take them, they're free."

"Are you messing with me, man? Are you messing with me? These are the ones that are poison! Yesterday was just to set me up!"

"Don't worry, Junebug. They're just fine." He took the bag and backed away from me with a terrified look on his face.

The following day, I saw Junebug in the cafeteria. I said, "Junebug, here are some more cookies. Enjoy them!"

"How can I enjoy cookies if you keep on giving them to me! Now cut it out, man! I didn't even finish yesterday's cookies! No more cookies! (He took the bag anyway.)

On the next day, I saw Junebug at the end of school. I walked up to him and said, "Junebug, here are...." He took one look at that bag of cookies and turned running and screaming all the way down Quincy Street. I haven't even had the notion of taking someone's life ever since. Because Jesus is a sin stealer, My mom stole my intention to sin.

One morning a little girl sat at a kitchen table to eat breakfast with her mother and father. As she listened to the prayer her father prayed before the meal, she was especially intrigued that he thanked God for God's presence everywhere.

After the father finished his prayer the little girl asked him, "Father, is it really true that God is everywhere?"

"Yes," said her father.

"Is God in this house?" she asked.

"Yes," her father said.

"Is God in this kitchen?"

"Yes," her father said.

"Is God on this table?" she asked.

"Yes," her father said.

The little girl hesitated and then asked, "Is God in this cup?"

Her father said, "Yes."

Upon hearing this the little girl quickly covered the cup with her hand and exclaimed, "I've got Him!"

In Job's attempt to make some sense out of his suffering, he tried desperately to figure God out by confining God to his own narrow conception of God. In other words, Job was trying to get God to respond within the limited confines of Job's own theological cup. In fact, Job was so certain of his theology that he believed he would prevail if his case were presented before God. To be sure, this is why he wanted to find God. He said, "Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power? No; but he would give heed to me. There an upright person could reason with him, and I should be acquitted forever by my judge" (Job 23:6-7).

Finally in chapter 38 God appears before Job as a voice out of the whirlwind: Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements -- surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy? -- Job 38:2-7

As soon as God speaks, Job realizes that he can never have the luxury of saying: "I've got God!" Indeed Job now knows that God has exceeded Job's expectations and refuses to be contained and fit neatly into any theological box that Job has constructed. So God answers Job, but not according to Job's definition of the problem of suffering. Instead God transposes the issue to another level which emphasizes God's power and divine knowledge in contrast to the human weakness and ignorance of Job.[1] In response, Job now realizes how foolish he has been to propose that he understood everything that happens. In fact, Job answers God and says, "See, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but will proceed no further" (Job 40:4-5).

No longer does Job seek to arrange a debate where he can instruct God. He finally realizes that it is he and not God who is unaware of life's complete picture. When we too are tempted to believe that God is bound by our theologies, rituals, denominations, and traditions, like Job, we are called to remember that God is boundless and cannot be contained in any of our cups. We cannot put God in the cup of any ritual and say, "I've got God covered." We cannot put God in the cup of any theology and say, "I've got God covered." We cannot put God in the cup of any church tradition and say, "I've got God covered." We cannot put God in any ethnic or gender cup and say, "I've got God covered."

Job learned that God stands above all human systems and wisdom. The purpose behind it all is not to answer directly the problem of suffering, but to give Job a vision of God's glory and presence with Job in the midst of Job's suffering. Thus Job discovers that he can trust God's purposes even though he cannot clearly understand them. Indeed, he comes to see that his new relationship with God will sustain him in the midst of his suffering.

Our African American forefathers and foremothers in the midst of the suffering of slavery could identify with Job's predicament. Even in the face of sorrow and suffering in the absurdity of slavery they were able to sing praises to God through the spirituals. Even though their relationship with God did not bring an immediate end to their oppressive condition, they were sustained by the faith that the cup of slavery could not contain the God of their hope and liberation. By the grace of God, it was a faith that enabled them to sing: Nobody knows the trouble I see, Nobody knows but Jesus. Nobody knows the trouble I see, Glory, Hallelujah.

1. Beverly B. Gaventa, editor, Texts for Preaching, (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993), p. 551. "

Duke Chaplain William Willimon writes," The reason this passage is so tough is that we are modern people who live in flattened, cause-effect world full of data and facts. We simply may not have the intellectual imagination to deal with words and images like those Jesus serves up today." Willimon is on to something. We do live in a flattened 9 to 5 world. Force life into bite sized data, facts, time-frames. Translate our joy and sorrow into tidy cause and effect formulas. When something terrible happens how often have you heard someone say or said yourself, "there must be a reason."

Being able to clutch onto reasons gives us the illusion of control, security, and power. If we become too tidy-minded we run the risk of acting like the Bible police. Then we think our spiritual comfort zones have expanded. Which they have but only in a sense "on paper" not in any real, three-dimensional way in which we can live and move and have our being when the vicissitudes of life confront us.

Horatio G. Spafford was a Chicago attorney who lost everything he had in the great Chicago fire of 1871. Yet he put his best efforts into helping Dwight L. Moody rebuild the Northside Tabernacle, the first building to go back up after that disaster. In 1873 Spafford's wife and four daughters were en route to England aboard the Ville du Havre when it was struck at sea by another ship and sank. Only his wife survived. In the face of such grief, in the pain and sorrow and guilt that threatened to drown him in sorrow, Spafford wrote:

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul.

How could he say that? His life was built on a strong foundation, and when the rains came, he knew he was in a house - and his children were in a house - that would stand forever. Remember those other words Jesus spoke about a house?  "In my Father's house are many rooms," he said. "I go to prepare a place for you..." (John 14:1-6).