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The time: October 31, 1517. The place: Wittenberg, Germany.
The morning mist obscures the countryside as sunlight has not yet
conquered the day. Heavy footsteps move toward the north door of
Castle Church, and there is the sound of hammering. Moving
closer, one finds Martin Luther, a local professor of biblical studies,
nailing ninety-five theses or debating points to the castle’s bulletin
board. Moderate in tone and heavily academic, the list was
intended to be little more than a call to discuss the state of the
church. Yet, word of Luther’s deed spread like wildfire across
all of Europe. And today, historians credit that one event as the
beginning of the Protestant Reformation.
Who’d have ever thought that nailing a list on a door would stand the
church on her feet? Yet such are the ironies of history.
Luther’s deed was a spark in the dry wood of discontent with
Medievalism’s church and the fire that was kindled then burns even now.
We as Presbyterians are a part of Luther’s tradition. We are
Protestants. That is, we are protestors. We protest against
a church not in harmony with Scripture. And today is the day that
I remind you that reformation is not something we’ve done and so can be
done with it. It’s an ongoing process. We are reformed, to
be sure. But we are also ever reforming because the church has
not arrived yet. She is not yet complete. Luther himself
summed up our situation so well when he said,
“This
life, therefore, is not righteousness but growth in righteousness; not
health but healing, not being but becoming; not rest but
exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing
toward it, the process is not yet finished, but is going on, this is
not the end, but is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory,
but all is being purified.”
When you joined the Presbyterian Church you joined the tradition of
Luther. You entered the reformed and ever reforming
process. One of the vows you took in membership was to
“practice the purity and peace of the church.” That means that
you will use your power to see that the church is purified or brought
into harmony with biblical truth. So in a real sense each of us
is a small and local Martin Luther. We’re church reformers,
people who settle for no less than a mature church.
And this brings us to our text. “Look,” Isaiah said, “Look to the
rock from which you were hewn.” Here is a man who, like Luther
was later to do, called his people back to their beginnings. His
call, as is the call of all true prophets, was not for innovation but
renovation, a call back to the basics. And such is my call to the
church today.
The call of the reformer or prophet is nothing new in society. We
are not unique in our practice of purity and peace in the church.
Nor was Luther unique. We are all part of a long line of prophets
who cared enough about their faith to see that it was godly and mature.
Elijah
Elijah was one such prophet. He lived about 900 B.C. and his
story is found in First and Second Kings.
Elijah’s name means “Jehovah is God.” And the prophet’s entire
ministry was aimed at calling people to that fact. You see, King
Ahab had married a foreign woman named Jezebel. And from her
homeland of Lebanon she’d imported her foreign gods. Gradually
Israel’s God Jehovah was discarded as a worn relic, and Jezebel’s god
Baal was worshiped instead. Elijah rose to protest this turn of
faithlessness.
A grim, solitary figure, Elijah’s preaching was marked by angry
eloquence. He worked mostly in the desert, a fugitive from the
murder plots of Queen Jezebel.
See Elijah announcing God’s judgment on Israel. “Yet three years
and there shall be no rain,” he preached. And see him on Mount
Carmel dueling with the priests of Baal. “How long will you go
limping after two opinions? If God is God, serve Him. If
Baal is god, then serve him!” Then came fire from heaven at
Elijah’s command and proved that Jehovah is God. And yes, see
Elijah, this reformer, this prophet of God, see him slaying with sword
the priests of Baal. I tell you Elijah was a firebrand. He
was a harsh purifier of the faith.
Yet sometimes harsh tactics are called for to get things done.
Consider the typical downtown redevelopment project. For some
years now wrecking crews have been tearing down dilapidated and vacant
buildings. This summer whole blocks were raised. Why, even
a train station was moved! Like Elijah, these workers have a
vision. But before they build they must first purify!
John Calvin was a reformer much like Elijah. A lawyer from Paris,
Calvin fled to Geneva, Switzerland. There his ideas on
Christianity conflicted with the authorities. He was
exiled. Later he returned and for the rest of his life was
embroiled in controversy, criticism and conflict. Once, like
Elijah with the priests of Baal, he was involved in the beheading of a
heretic from Spain.
Perhaps God is calling you to a ministry like this. It does have
its time and place. Purifiers are always needed. One of our
elders told me about a fellow who used to walk to church every Sunday
and pass his neighbor rocking on his porch. “Come on and go to
church with me, Jake,” he’d call. “Not today. Not today,”
his friend would excuse himself. This went on for years when
finally one Sunday passing his friend the man said bluntly, “Jake,
you’re going to sit there and rock yourself straight into hell.”
And the next Sunday when he passed by, Jake was dressed and ready to go
to church and worship God.
Elisha!
But Elijah’s style is not the only tradition among the prophets.
For there is also Elisha. His name means “God is
salvation.” And whereas Elijah was harsh, Elisha was
gentle. Whereas Elijah worked alone and in the desert, Elisha
worked among a band of prophets and spent his time in the cities.
Whereas Elijah was a purifier, Elisha was a peacemaker, a benevolent
healer.
Consider Elisha’s miracles in contrast to Elijah’s harshness. He
miraculously brought a thirsty army water. He filled a widow’s
jars with oil so she’d have something to sell and could stay out of
debtors prison. He raised a family’s only son from the
dead. He healed the Gentile Naaman of Leprosy. He helped a
man fix his broken ax. He healed the Jericho town spring of
bitterness. And at Gilgal he miraculously removed poison from a
pot of stew.
Just as the church has always needed her Elijahs, so she has always
needed her Elishas. And there have been many. John Wesley
was such a man. Tired of nominal religion, angry over stale and
uninspired preaching, alarmed over social injustice, Wesley began the
Methodist movement. His street corner preaching struck fire in
the hearts of common people. His writings began to feed and
discipline and inform peoples’ faith. An old foundry in London
became headquarters for the renewal movement. Concerned with
souls, he called for decision. Concerned with peoples bodies, he
distributed food, called for social reform and is given credit by
historians for helping England avoid a bloody revolution as France had
had. Yes, Wesley was an Elisha, a healer, a peacemaker.
Perhaps God is calling you to an Elisha type ministry. Every
church needs many of this sort. I’m thinking of Mary Ramsey, a
lady in my former parish. Widowed early in life, Mary went to
work educating four children. Today they are all useful to
society--farmers, teachers, newspaper men. Mary helped ease the
racial tensions of 1960's desegregation by volunteering to be the first
white to teach a predominately black class. And in the church
body itself Mary was an Elisha. Her gift was showing acts of
mercy. Her frequent visits brought comfort, wisdom and listening
ears to each and everyone. Why, even when there was conflict Mary
was like oil in the machinery of the fellowship. A peacemaker
called rightly a daughter of God, Mary was an Elisha to the church.
And you? How do you fit in here among us? Is Elisha’s work
your God given work?
Zerubbabel!
Elijah, the purifier, the harsh prophet; Elisha, the healer, benevolent
worker of miracles--both have their place in God’s plan. But
here’s another--Zerubbabel. You say you’ve never heard of
him? An obscure figure, to be sure, yet nonetheless, Zerubbabel
has an important place in the affairs of God.
Zerubbabel was a descendant of King Solomon and therefore a
prince. Exiled to Babylon, Zerubbabel kept alive the hope for the
reestablishment of Israel. And when under King Cyrus, the Jews
were allowed to return, Zerubbabel was among the leaders who began to
resettle Jerusalem’s rubble. You’ll find some mention of
Zerubbabel in 1 Chronicles 3:19 and the book of Ezra, also Matthew 1:12.
Zerubbabel was a prime instigator in the rebuilding of the
temple. He began the work with zeal but met with immediate
opposition from the Samaritans and other nearby tribes. Afraid of
going on with the project, he quit for eighteen years! It was the
preaching of prophets Haggai and Zechariah that got things moving
again. Timid, cautious, sensitive to criticism, fearful--this was
Zerubbabel. But God used him. The temple was rebuilt!
A few years ago an English businessman was visiting a friend in
Uganda. The African, an enthusiastic hunter, arm-twisted his
reluctant visitor into going hunting with him. The first night
out the English visitor was so frightened he scarcely slept. Next
morning, quickly, the twosome came upon the fresh tracks of a full
grown lion. “Tell you what we’ll do,” said the Englishman
brightly, “You go ahead and see where he went, and I’ll go back and see
where he came from!” Such is the fear and trembling nature of
Zerubbabel--cautious, afraid, feeling that there is no need to rush
into things, wanting to wait eighteen years!
Thomas Cranmer fits somewhat into this category. A quiet scholar,
timid, cautious, he believed in gradual reform by gentle
persuasion. And then King Henry VIII got his divorce and split
with Rome by starting the Anglican church. And in 1532 one Thomas
Cranmer was summoned to become Archbishop of Canterbury. Things
went well under Kings Henry and Edward. But when Mary, Bloody
Mary, became queen she determined to make England Catholic again.
And Thomas Cranmer was put in prison to suffer a long solitary
confinement with brainwashing. It was during this time that
Cranmer recanted, denouncing all of the church’s reforms.
However, later Cranmer came to himself, denied the recantations he’d
signed, and at Oxford in 1556 was burned at the stake as a
heretic. Entering the flames, Thomas thrust in first the hand
that had once written the recantations.
And yes, God can still use Zerubbabels and Cranmers. The church
still needs timid, fearful, cautious souls who are sensitive to
criticism, folks who feel there’s no hurry to rebuild, to reassert,
folks who take eighteen years to make up their minds and get the job
done. Perhaps you fall into this category.
A Little Bit of Each
In preparing this sermon over the years, I’ve discussed this message
with my wife. And just this week she startled me by saying, “Who
are you? Are you Elijah or Elisha or Zerubbabel?” Well,
that set my mind to reeling. And I wonder. Aren’t we all a
little bit of each one? I can be as harsh and fiery as
Elijah. But there is also Elisha in me--the healer, the
benevolent worker. And I’ll vouch for the Zerubbabel in me.
How many times I’ve wanted to quit, my knees knocking, sensitive to
criticism, afraid to go on. Isn’t that the way with all of
us? And yet God can still use us!
A friend of mine bought an old oak table and refinished it
recently. She used an acid-like fluid to strip away numerous
coats of paint. Then she applied heavy grain sandpaper to the
table. There followed a finer sandpaper. And finally came a
soft brush and a polish rag. And the table is now restored to its
original beauty. This is a kind of parable of the church that has
always tended to be covered over with off-color tradition and coated
with superstitions and plain bad theology. And it belongs to each
of us to “practice the purity and peace of the church,” to, like Isaiah
said in the text, get back to the original, the basics. And
whether you are an acid-like purifier like Elijah or fine sandpaper
like Elisha, or even a soft, slow working polisher like Zerubbabel, God
can use you to keep the church honest.
Let’s work together in Christ.
Suggested Prayer
Lord, let there be a new reformation, and let it begin with me.
Amen.
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