Pastor
Tom Johnson, July 5, 2015
There is a
tradition for newly ordained pastors. Sometimes it includes being ordained in
their home congregation. Sometimes they preach their first sermon in their home
congregation or are invited to preach early on in their ministry. My good friend, Pastor Ryan Tietz, will be preaching for the first time
in his home congregation, St. James, in Lafayette, Indiana next week. He just
received a call to be professor of Hebrew at Concordia Theological Seminary in
Fort Wayne, Indiana. He is just now
preaching there the first time even though he has been ordained for quite some
time. He is very excited. Although, his sermon text is from Amos which is about
the rejection of his ministry by his own people. Ironic.
I was never asked
to preach in my home congregation. It is Covenant Presbyterian Church in West
Lafayette, Indiana. Maybe it is because they called Tom Johnson to be their
associate pastor about the same time I was ordained. I met Tom Johnson while
I was in seminary. He is a really nice person. He has been serving at my home
congregation for over 18 years now. I really don’t blame them for choosing that
Tom Johnson over this Tom Johnson. I don’t think they take offense at me. I
don’t take any offense at them. It’s just good to know that it is possible for Tom Johnsons to be
received well in ministry. Although, I will say, it would be awkward for this Tom Johnson. The congregation would
remember little TJ making a mad dash to the donuts after service—or the Tom Johnson who had to mow the church lawn for a whole summer
because he snuck into the sanctuary with his friend, pulled pipes out of the
organ consul, and blew into them like a flute. Not that Tom Johnson, I assure you!
This morning we
join Jesus on a visit to his hometown. He begins to teach in his home
synagogue. And they are quite impressed. “Preach it, rabbi!” they thought. “He
is really good. Such wisdom and depth! What great power and authority!” And then they
catch themselves. “Wait a minute…hold on, everyone. The last time we saw this
rabbi he was covered in sawdust. Hard labor in the wood shed had callused his
hands. We know his mom, Mary, and his brothers and sisters. “What sort of
résumé is that? His origin is too close to ours. Our stories are too similar.
We know he is mere flesh and blood. Do you remember that one time he stayed
back in Jerusalem and his family could not find him? His parents were beside
themselves. We all were.” And because people
in Jesus’ hometown expected less from
Jesus, they received less from him. And Jesus himself could
not believe that they would so carelessly cut themselves off from all the
blessings God had in store for them.
The truth is we
cut ourselves off from God’s blessings all the time—just like the people in
Jesus’ hometown. We do this when our vision of God is small. We do this when we
remake God into our own image like people in Jesus’ hometown. God has made us in his image. God created us to reflect his love, creativity, and care
for this world. Theologians call this the Imagio
Dei. It is a very profound truth but just as simple: God made us. And he molds
us to do his work on earth. We have not made
God. We do not mold and shape God. And yet, that is exactly what we try to do.
Just look at recent news and our reaction to it. It is good to do some soul
searching as a nation in reaction to horrific violence and death. It is good for us
to work together for laws that support our values and laws that bring glory to
God. But it is not good when we speak of God or of Jesus in mere human terms and categories. “Is not
this the carpenter?” Would not Jesus be
a Republican? Would he not be a Democrat? Would he not take our side on this or that social issue? We
presume we have got this Christ-figure figured out, well-categorized, and
working for us. But what we have
really done is diminish our vision of who Jesus is. He is not American. It
makes me cringe to say that—especially just one day after the 4th of
July. He is Savior of the world. He
loves all people. He is on humanity’s
team. This Scripture reminds us that we should not despise the humanity in others.
I believe this is critical in our message to the world around us. I know
it is probably not our intention but many non-Christians think that we follow a
God who despises certain people, takes sides against them, or excludes them
from his plan. We may not introduce doubt to the world by the question “Is not this the
carpenter?” but we do when we define by mere human categories or remake God
into our image. Sadly, many in the world sees a judge of sinners instead of a friend
of sinners.
“Is not this the
carpenter?” Yes, he is. Our Savior made furniture and homes with his hands. He
got his hands covered in sawdust. He took gnarly branches and stumps and made
beautiful beams and joints. He used tools with an artisan’s skill. This is the same eternal Word made flesh—the flesh and bones of a
carpenter. He is the Son of God through whom heaven and earth were made. He not
only has sawdust on his hands; he
also has stardust on his hands. He is
maker of heaven and earth. He works with
wood. He works with dust and breathes into our nostrils the spirit of life. He
knits us together in our mothers’ wombs. We are fearfully and wonderfully made.
And the Carpenter has only begun his craft. The Carpenter puts
his hands to the wooden cross. He transforms this Roman tool of death into an instrument
of forgiveness and salvation. He rises from the dead to whittle, carve, and
remake us. The Carpenter fashions us again into his own image with his
nail-marked hands. And he says, “I make all things new.”
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