Jonah 3:1-5, 10; Mark 1:14-20
Presented January 22nd, 2006, by J.D. Kline
The Third Sunday after Epiphany
In my growing up years in the church, I remember wincing whenever I heard the common admonition at the end of a worship service, “Go in the fear of the Lord.” Even when I came to understand that the fear being spoken of had far more to do with respect and awe, with reverence and wonder, than with being afraid, the admonition continued to disturb me. For all too many persons do indeed view God as one to be feared, as one who is somehow out to get us.
One evening this week I happened to see a History Channel documentary about Abraham Lincoln. Though his values were much influenced by the Christian faith, Lincoln was not an active participant in any church, so troubled was he by questions about God arbitrarily assigning persons to eternal punishment. Lincoln could not reconcile the image of God as loving Creator with the notion of everlasting condemnation, a struggle many share yet today.
Frank Laubach, so noted for his work in literacy, shares much of his spiritual journey, his struggles as well as moments of intense connection with God, in his book Letters by a Modern Mystic. On one occasion, he hears the voice of God lamenting that many foolishly fear God, seeking to flatter God for their own reward, while God yearns for deep and loving relationship. Laubach hears the Spirit saying to him, “I want love and friendship more than I want groveling subjects.”
Do we grovel before God, convinced that God must be persuaded to offer us blessing, or do we embrace the gift of grace, the remarkable gift of God’s generous, even reckless, love for us? Our Wednesday morning Bible study group is exploring the Gospel of Luke, and this past week we looked at Luke 15, which contains the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son. In each parable this theme of God’s extravagant love confronts us. A shepherd who recklessly leaves 99 sheep behind in the dangerous wilderness, in order to find one sheep that has strayed; a woman who, upon finding a lost coin, throws an extravagant party, that she and her friends might celebrate; and a yearning father, ever scanning the horizon for the return of a wayward son, running to the son when he appears and, no questions asked, receiving him back fully as a worthy child, sharing the best of robes, placing a family ring on his finger, and killing the fatted calf for a joyful celebration.
In each case, it is a love and a joy that far exceed anything that might be expected. Why is it, then, that so many Christian bodies focus, not on this message of grace beyond measure, but choose instead to pull out those passages of Scripture that suggest judgment and fear instead? Perhaps, like the prophet Jonah, we want to place limits upon God’s grace; we only want grace to be shared with those who we decide are worthy.
Look with me at Jonah’s story, surely one of the foundation stones of the New Testament’s message of love that knows no limits. Jonah, you may remember, hears the call of God to preach to the Ninevites. Biblical scholars tell us that Jonah’s story likely was written in the aftermath of the exile, that trying time in ancient Israel’s history when the people were forced to live in a strange land, cut off from all that long been comfortable and familiar. When the people were finally free to return from Babylon to Jerusalem, it was because the Assyrian Empire, home of Nineveh, had gained prominence and power over the Babylonians. Once back home in Jerusalem, the people continued to face difficulty and discouragement, their beloved temple destroyed and the city still in ruins. Not surprisingly, voices began to be raised, calling upon the Israelites to close ranks, to shut themselves off from the rest of the world, to become a separate people having little contact with the world around them.
In that kind of climate, consider how Jonah’s story would be heard. The story centers on Jonah’s call from God to go to the “great city” of Nineveh. Other prophets of the day, particularly Nahum and Zephaniah, denounce Nineveh as the evil city, “a city of bloodshed” (Nahum 3:1) that God shall turn into “a desolation, a dry waste like the desert” (Zephaniah 2:13). But in Jonah, Nineveh is called the great city—a city whose wickedness greatly disturbs God, but a people to whom a message of repentance needs to be preached.
No doubt you remember Jonah’s resistance to the call, how he sought to flee from God’s presence, going in the very opposite direction from Nineveh. The issue, as Jonah confesses in chapter four, is that God is a God of compassion and forgiveness, a God whose love would extend even to the wicked Ninevites, and Jonah does not want those he considers to be enemies to experience forgiveness and new life. “I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger,” Jonah cries out in his own anger against God, “and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to forgive . . .” (4:2-3).
When Jonah eventually gives in to God’s call, he walks across the city of Nineveh, shouting, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (3:4). Despite Jonah’s disdain for the people of Nineveh, they take note of his words, and the king of the great city issued an edict calling upon all the people to repent. And God, seeing the response of the Ninevites, does precisely what Jonah fears—he forgives the people, and does not destroy the city.
At the very time when much of Israel is tempted to close ranks, to narrow its focus, to claim God’s grace as its exclusive possession, the story of Jonah offers a radical alternative. The story reminds the people of God’s deeper intention, which is that God’s love is ever reaching out, ever yearning to enlarge the circle, ever tearing down walls of suspicion and separation, instead calling all manner of people into loving relationship.
The prophet Isaiah, you may remember, calls the returning exiles to this same kind of expanded vision. “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel,” the prophet cries out for God, in words recorded in Isaiah 49. “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). And only chapters earlier, the prophet offers a similar reminder of the people’s high calling: “I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness” (Isaiah 42:6-7).
When Jesus calls the first disciples to embark with him on a journey of faithfulness, it is a call to join in this enlarging of the circle. To embrace life in God’s kingdom is to take seriously the grace of God, to trust—as baffling as it may seem to those of us who live in a world quick to label some worthy and others not—that no one is beyond the reach of God.
Some years ago I came across a poem entitled “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot,” written by Robert Buchanan. The ballad is based upon an old fable that, after Judas committed suicide, his soul wandered through the universe, bearing his body, seeking a place for it to rest. Hell would not take it in; the earth would not receive it; the sun refused to shine on it. In all creation, Judas could not find a resting place.
At last, in a nameless region of darkness and ice and snow the soul of Judas sees a lighted hall, with the shadows within of people moving about. The soul lays the body in the snow, running back and forth outside the windows. Although Judas does not know it, inside Jesus sits at the table with his guests, ready to receive the fleeing soul and relieve Judas of his burden. Listen to the ballad:
‘Twas the Bridegroom sat at the table-head,
and the lights burned bright and clear—
“Oh, who is that?” the Bridegroom said,
“Whose weary feet I hear?”‘Twas one looked from the lighted hall,
and answered soft and slow,
“It is a wolf runs up and down
with a black track in the snow.”The Bridegroom in his robe of white
sat at the table-head—
“Oh, who is that who moans without?”
the blessed Bridegroom said.‘Twas one looked from the lighted hall,
and answered fierce and low,
“Tis the soul of Judas
gliding to and fro.”‘Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot
did hush itself and stand,
and saw the Bridegroom at the door
with a light in his hand.‘Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door,
and beckoned, smiling sweet;
‘Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot
stole in, and fell at his feet.“The Holy Supper is spread within,
and the many candles shine,
and I have waited long for thee
before I poured the wine!”(source: Morton Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence)
The ballad captures something of the flavor of the apostle Paul’s writings to the Ephesians, in which he describes God’s ultimate plan as “a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in [God], things in heaven and things on earth” (Ephesians 1:10). And in his letter to the Philippians, chapter two, after urging us to put on the mind and spirit of Christ, Paul continues, asserting that because Jesus humbles himself, taking the form of a servant, even unto death, so God raises Jesus. Cries Paul,
Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him
the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (2:9-11).
Philip Gulley and James Mulholland are two pastors serving Quaker congregations who have together authored a book entitled If Grace is True, in which they affirm,
It was the God of Jesus that attracted us. The God who loves people more than formulas, mercy more than judgment, and pardon more than punishment. The God who seeks the lost, heals the brokenhearted, accepts the outcast, is kind to the wicked and the ungrateful, is merciful and forgiving, and loves the whole world.
This message of incredible grace, the promise that God is indeed in the business of reconciling all things in heaven and on earth and under the earth—this remarkable message continues to amaze and astound us—we who would much prefer to decide who’s in and who’s out in God’s kingdom, who’s worthy and who’s not. In truth, the gospel story frequently appears scandalous, for in spite of all the sermons we have heard about grace, we are far more prone to believe that we must somehow earn God’s approval. But the freeing message of the New Testament is that grace is ours for the taking, and in the receiving of God’s remarkable gifts, we are transformed. Since grace is true, we become co-creators of a new realm, a new way of living—life in the kingdom of God.
Sisters and brothers, embrace the good news, and together, with Christ, let us join in bringing forth the kingdom of mercy, the kingdom of compassion and self-giving love, the kingdom of justice and of grace. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer
God of peace, you who are our strength, our Rock, our fortress, our ever present help, how blessed we are by your good gifts—by the gift of your glorious creation, by the beauty of the recent snowfall, by the wonders of life and love and relationships. Thanks be to you, O God, for creating us in your image, for inviting us to walk in your ways of gracious love, reconciling peace, and compassionate service. Thanks be to you, O God, for filling our lives with meaning and purpose, for opening our hearts and minds to new opportunities to share your grace and your loving kindness.
Forgive us, gracious God, when we fail to pay attention to your calling upon our lives, when we become so pre-occupied with our own desires and our own pursuits, that we forget the strength and wisdom that come to us as we wait in peace, as we become still and recall that you are the God of all life.
God of forgiveness and new life, form us more completely into the people you envision us to be. Where we encounter darkness, may we be messengers of light. Where we know despair, transform us with your hope. Where there is brokenness and fear, guide us in paths of healing and reconciliation.
O God of healing, hear us now as we hold before you those in special need of your healing care . . . .
Spirit of peace, bring your peace to our divided and troubled world. Where there is hatred, teach your ways of self-giving love. Take away our bent to warfare and selfishness and sinning, and grant instead a renewed passion for living together in your Spirit. We pray these prayers in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.