"Bondage Breaker"

Luke 8:26-39



Pastor Tom Johnson, June 23, 2013

In this account of the Gerasene demoniac, I counted more than ten words or descriptions that describe bondage of all kinds. You have the demons who bind this poor guy, which is perhaps the most obvious bondage. The attacks the individual suffers “sieze” or bind him. The authorities “keep him under guard;” they bind him with chains and shackles. Jesus himself is his held his captive audience, with his back to the sea, and must face this sensational display of behavior. Even the demons themselves are “legion,” a company of demons who are bound to to torment this man day and night. And when they encounter Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, they are bound in the fear that Jesus may throw them into the abyss.

For an Israelite, this is literal hell—to dwell in Sheol, the place of the dead—to be naked, bound, and under the power of death and the evil one—to live among the unclean swine—to be human but live more wild than the domesticated pigs around him. One fourth century Christian poet (Prudentius) calls this man’s condition a “sepulchral prison”—a jail of death that keeps this man from living, loving, and experiencing the goodness of the world around him.

But the Gerasene demoniac is a bondage breaker. With superhuman strength, he pulls on his chains and shackles; he stretches, twists, and breaks his iron bonds. And when he breaks his bonds, he reveals the truth that chains and shackles cannot reform the human spirit. Incarceration will not redeem a person’s soul. As the Scripture says, “Our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph 6:12). This bondage breaking man with a legion of psychological, mental, and spiritual afflictions reveals the powerlessness we all experience. Flesh, blood, chains, shackles—our strength and technology cannot tame the savage nature of sin.

But Jesus delivers him. His afflictions transfer to the herd of swine and they drown in the sea. The once afflicted, wild, and out of control man is now sitting down, clothed, and in his right mind. This is the sobering truth about evil: he was not just a perpetrator of bizarre behavior; he was also the victim of spiritual and psychological oppression. It’s sobering to realize that our behavior is not under our control but the result of whatever has bound us—whether it be a spiritual affliction, substance abuse, mental illness, lust for power or pleasure, or something as simple but paralyzing as fear.  When the rest of those in the surrounding country of the Gerasenes hear the story, They don’t rejoice over that one of their own has been delivered from his madness. They are “seized with great fear,” our text says. That is to say, they are in a bondage of their own—not with the bonds of chain and shackle—the enemy that has bound them is fear. The pig herdsmen and authorities were not only powerless to subdue this man, did more harm to him than good, and were apathetic to his newfound freedom; they are all in a bondage of their own—seized by fear. Is it fear that Jesus will do even more damage to their agriculture and way of life? Is it fear that Jesus has unmasked their powerlessness to control someone on the fringe of their community? Is it fear that Jesus will continue to uncover those things that bind us and keep us from truly living? Is it the frightening prospect that we are not the captains of our souls like we often like to think we are? Whatever it is, it is sobering and a frightening thing to realize that we can sometimes be helpless to free ourselves from whatever binds us.

Before we sit down, clothed, and in our right minds, it is a scary prospect for Jesus to uncover our deepest and darkest prisons. He brings our chains and shackles into the light of day. But does not do so to shame us but deliver us. He is the Bondage Breaker, the one who breaks all bonds that bind us. “He breaks the power of canceled sin, He sets the prisoner free; His blood can make the foulest clean, His blood availed for me.” Jesus breaks the bonds of sin, death, and the devil so that we are free—free to live and tell our stories.

The healed man begs Jesus to go with him. But Jesus tells him to live and tell his story: “Declare how much God has done for you.” Just tell your story—sensational or not. And so he goes, “proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.” “I was naked but Jesus clothed me. I was outcast but he brought me in. I was rejected but he accepted me. I was in bondage but he set me free. I was running around wildly but now I am at peace.”

Jesus frees us to live and tell our own stories. Scripture says, “No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” So that we can say, “I was naked in my sin and brokenness but Christ’s clothed me with the robe of his righteousness. I was outcast but he brought me in. I was an orphan but the Father adopted me. I was in bondage to unspeakable things but he set me free. I was running around aimlessly and dangerously close to death but he gave me peace and a new lease on life.”

“Thank the Lord and sing his praise; tell everyone what he has done. Let all who seek the Lord rejoice and proudly bear his name. He recalls his promises and leads his people forth in joy with shouts of thanksgiving. Alleluia. Alleluia.”

“Do you see this woman?”

Luke 7:36—8:3

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 16, 2013

Jesus is a dinner guest at a Pharisee’s home, named Simon. And right after sitting down for their meal, an uninvited woman pops in—a notoriously sinful woman—a woman of ill-repute. She lavishly pours a very expensive alabaster jar of ointment to anoint Jesus. She not only bathes him with the ointment but also her tears. Her tears must have been gushing out of her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, and dripping off her chin. Her hair is also drenched with her tears by trying to dry Jesus feet. I think we all can imagine that hair is not as absorbent. Her actions are more impulsive and unplanned than they are rational. Let’s be honest. It’s bizarre. It’s sensual. It is an over-the-top display of human affection. It probably would make us blush or feel a sense of revulsion. But Jesus is not ashamed. He is not repulsed. He accepts her loving adoration. He takes it all in.

Simon, the religious leader, is disgusted by the whole display. And, he says to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.” “Does Jesus not see this woman for who she truly is?” Simon asks. Our Scripture says he said it to himself. I suppose he said it loud enough for everyone to hear—or at least for Jesus to hear. Or Jesus heard because he not only knows who and what kind of woman she is, he knows the thoughts and intentions of every human heart.

Jesus won’t let this terribly judgmental comment slip by. He needs to address it. But how? By telling a story. “Simon,” Jesus says, “I have a story to tell: A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” It is a short story that ends with a question. The absurdity of the story is easy to miss. A banker has two loans out. One person owes 500 denarii, the other 50. A denarius is a day’s wage—about $100 a day. That means one person owes $50,000, other $5,000. One person owes the remainder of a mortgage on a home, the other the price for a used car. Both of them, in a most un-precedented and outlandish turn of events, are told they don’t need to pay off their loan. Where can I get a loan like that? Don’t think that creditors were more likely to forgive debt in the 1st century than they are in the 21st century. Both have a lot to be thankful for and good cause to love this lender. But which of them will be especially thankful? That’s easy, isn’t it? The one who will take years and maybe decades to pay off his loan and all the interest over the years. “The one for whom he canceled the greater debt,” Simon says. And Jesus says, “You’re right! You have judged rightly.” And then Jesus turns the tables on the religious teacher.

“Do you see this woman, Simon?” “You wondered to yourself if I saw this woman for who and what she is. But who is the one who does not see? Do you see this woman? Do you see yourself? You didn’t show me any hospitality. There was no welcome mat to dust off my feet. You did not receive me with a warm handshake. You didn’t even let me know where the washroom was. But this woman you call a sinner has lavishly treated me with dignity, respect, and love. Do you see this woman? She is a trophy of God’s grace. She is responder to divine love. Do you see this woman? She is thankful. She has tears of joy. Every tear drop is a flood from God’s ocean of love and mercy. Her worship is lavish because she is lavishly loved. Her debt was ridiculously large. Her forgiveness is ridiculously greater. And so her display of thankfulness and love is just as ridiculous.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran pastor who opposed the Nazis in Germany and was later executed for his plot against Hitler, visited Paris as a young theological student. He went to Catholic Mass and was deeply moved to see prostitutes showing great devotion and love in their worship. He said “one can see quite clearly how close, precisely through their fate and guilt, these people are to the heart of the Gospel...It's much easier for me to imagine a praying murderer, a praying prostitute, than a vain person praying. Nothing is so at odds with prayer as vanity.” That is the real tragedy of Simon. His vanity—his pride keeps him from seeing his own sin and brokenness. His pride and self-righteousness prevent him from experiencing the ridiculous—yet beautiful and glorious—grace of God.

To be on the outside of this work of God is to think others fail and are unworthy of God’s attention and love. To be on the inside of this work is to see this woman as she truly is—a woman who is accepted and loved by God and who loves him back. It is to see that we are all in this human experience together. We all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. But even better, we experience forgiveness so that we become thankful and maybe even tearful, lavish worshipers. Do you see this woman? Do you see Simon’s struggle? Do you see Jesus? They are all beautiful.

“There is no God like you!”

1 Kings 8:22-43

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 2, 2013

Solomon is realizing his dad’s dream. King David wanted to build the Temple in Jerusalem but he had too much blood on his hands, God tells him. So, his son Solomon takes the material and plans David prepared, and builds the Temple. It is here in our reading from 1 Kings that Solomon prays a masterful prayer. His prayer is conversational, reverent, and filled with wisdom—yes, with the Wisdom of Solomon.

“O Yahweh, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath!”

“You are wholly unique, God! Any conception of deity pales in comparison to the truth of who you are in all the universe!”

For many, such statements of the uniqueness of the God of Scripture as the true and living God may make us feel a bit uncomfortable. “Why must we have competition between religions?” someone might very well ask. “This is not a race! Believing in the God of the Bible is not an exclusive club. Why condemn people who follow other gods and other religions?” someone might also very well ask.

That is what I love about Solomon’s prayer! It is not adversarial. It does not condemn people. It is not exclusive. It is winsome, welcoming, and inclusive! You’ll remember that Solomon shares his difficult journey of faith in the book of Ecclesiastes. There he talks about the meaninglessness he found in worldliness. He shares the futility of human wisdom and empty pursuit of pleasure. He exhausts many pursuits to fill the void inside his soul. And he is left with his God-shaped void that only the true and living God can fill. And so Solomon reaches the place in his journey where can worship and praise God, saying, “O Yahweh! There is no God like you!”

As a result, he has a very different view of this building made of stone and mortar, cedar and gold, and intricately woven fabric. He sees a very different place this house of worship has in his Hebrew world-class city. Maybe it is no accident that we have begun a discussion about our brick and mortar needs for this building. Perhaps God is reminding us of the role this structure plays in the lives of our community of faith. The Temple is not a place where God dwells, Solomon reminds us in this same prayer. The universe could not contain him. And yet, he dwells in the hearts and communities of his people. The Temple is not reserved for one race, language, and culture. From the first day of its dedication, Solomon had the wisdom and vision of what would happen on the Day of Pentecost when people from all over the world were filled with the Holy Spirit. God’s Kingdom shatters earthly boundaries and distinctions. Long before John had his revelation of worship in heaven from a multitude that no one could number from every tribe, nation, language, and people, Solomon envisions God already drawing all humanity to himself.

This makes the God of Solomon unique—not exclusive—but special among the pantheon of gods in the ancient world. Each culture—often times each village—had its own Baal—its very own god that was their god exclusively. It was not very different our schools that each have a mascot that always cheers for the home team. Yahweh has always been on the cutting edge of inclusivity. It’s been on his heart and in his plan to draw a multiethnic humanity to himself from before the foundation of the world. And it seems like we are the ones catching up to the broad swath of his love. We get to discover how wide the embrace of his outstretched arms truly is.

“When a foreigner…comes from a distant land” Solomon prays, “…hearing of your greatness…when they pray, hear them,”

“Answer their prayer, God! Reveal yourself to every soul…so that all the peoples on this terrestrial ball may know your name and fear you.”

I love the fact that Solomon’s prayer gives people time and space to reach their own conclusions—to allow God to reveal himself so that they can say, “There is no God like Yahweh!” Can his prayer be any more inclusive and evangelistic? And how about that challenge to God?! How bold Solomon is to pray to God like that! “God you are a promise keeper and Lover of your creation—keeping covenant and steadfast love. So do what you promise to do! Extend your gracious love to all the world! Use this building—and us—to be conduits of your promise keeping love.”

Solomon prays that people have intimate knowledge—a relationship with their Creator and filled with reverential awe because although he is Almighty and transcends the universe, he lovingly interacts with his people.

“O God, there is no God like You! Just be who you are and it is enough! Simply do what you have promised to do and your blessing will rain down on your creation! O God, there is no God like You! For you so loved the world that you gave your only-begotten Son to live, heal, tell the good news, die, and rise again for all.”

“There is no God like You!” “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life!” “There is no God like You!”  Every twist and unexpected turn in our journey has led to confident trust in the uniqueness of your grace and love for all humanity. There is no God like him, indeed.”