I Speak Jesus: How to learn a living language ~ Colossians 1:15-20

 

Language is a funny thing. I love it. Words are interesting and intricate – both filled with meaning and madness at the same time. I’ve learned a few languages – all badly – and live in a home with a non-native English speaker and so I’ve experienced my fair share of language mishaps.  

There was the time in Germany I wanted to tell someone, I have a present for you [Ich habe ein Geschenk für dich.] But substituted the English word gift for present and ended up saying, I have poison for you [Ich habe Gift für dich.] There was the time my wife, a non-native English speaker told me that she bought me a beaver for my birthday– she meant beagle. Or the time our daughter told our son, who was playfully joking about women, to stop being “so sexy” rather than “so sexist.” And finally, there was the delightful experience of learning that French people use the word “walk” when they want to say something “works.” The New Testament will call Jesus God’s Word from the very beginning before time itself. This Easter as we celebrate the resurrection, I want to teach you how to speak Jesus.

To speak Jesus is to recognize that Jesus is God’s native language.

For Paul, Jesus is the image of God, the “fullness” of God embodied, an agent of creation, and reconciler who is – yep, you guessed it – God’s Word to us! Jesus, we’re told, is the “image of the invisible God.” The ancient church, heavily relying on Paul’s words, said: We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only-begotten of God, begotten of his Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made. That “being of one substance” is actually one word in Greek: homoousia. This ancient Greek word can sound utterly odd and abstract, yet it should be one of the most exciting words in our Jesus vocabulary, telling us that what God shows himself to be in Jesus is simply who he always is; he doesn’t decide to be like Jesus for thirty-odd years or even thirty thousand. God and Jesus are one. God is Christlike and in him there is no unChristlikeness at all.   

 

The early church had a delightful image for this reality: light one candle from another, and you don’t have any less of the first flame and you have a second flame as bright and hot as the first. The Son truly shares the living flame of God’s nature with no qualification or lessening. He is the character and nature of the living God made visible. So we don’t have to despair about who God is or what God wants. Jesus is, according to Paul, supremely the one who makes God credible, trustworthy. In Paul’s second letter to the church at Corinth, Paul says that all of God’s promises find their “yes” in Jesus.

To speak Jesus you need to learn an important word: “all.”

Paul and the early church were not content like so many people to describe reality as spiritual and non-spiritual. No, Paul wants to remind us, and by “remind us,” I mean repeat incessantly, almost annoyingly, that “all things” were created, “all things” came into being, “all things” were formed, sustained, held together, by Jesus, through Jesus, and for Jesus. So to speak Jesus is to know that Jesus speaks the language of flesh and bodies, and not just through people, but the bodies of trees, mountains, rivers, bugs, and flowers. In the movie Finding Nemo, do you remember the seagulls? 

 

They only know how to say one word, “Mine!” To listen to Paul, to speak Jesus, is to recognize that speaking Jesus means that the possessive pronouns all refer to Jesus. Everything is “mine” and “his.”  Listen to how one fifth-century Christian, St. Patrick, spoke of this reality:

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

Friends, I would like to invite you into a resurrection conspiracy of sorts. The origin of the word “conspiracy” did not originally have its more present, sinister overtones. Originally, it meant – con [with]  spirare [to breathe] or breathe as one. The big secret is that God and Jesus share the same breath but even more eye-opening one is that you can’t escape Jesus who breathes in everything. The resurrection reminds us that even when we are at our worst – we still can’t escape God’s presence.  The resurrection reveals that love is always stronger than death and that Jesus is at the center of everything. The conspiracy of the resurrection is that God doesn’t know how to be absent. The problem, however, is that we like to create separation and Jesus loves to create union. Helen Keller said “I sometimes fear that much religion is man’s despair at not finding God.” Friends, speaking Jesus is not a dead language. It’s a living, powerful thing that points to Jesus always finding you. When you’re at your worst – Jesus still says “mine.” When you feel all alone – Jesus is present – sustaining you, loving you. When you feel lost take a conspiratorial breath and remember that there simply is no place where Jesus is not.

Finally, to speak Jesus is to know to know to translate pleasing and peace.

I want to end the sermon talking about the words Christians often forget that we simply can’t do without. Vss. 19-20 say it all, “For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.”

Friends, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus reminds us that God’s love was never withheld from us – the words are important – pleasing and peace. These words were what God was saying in and through Jesus from the very beginning. They are the whole language. But we are not always capable of hearing them. That was, and continues to be, the problem.

To learn to speak Jesus is to recognize that Jesus’ death on the cross was not meant to change the mind of God but to change our minds about God. Listen to Paul, the motive of God wasn’t perturbed but pleased. It wasn’t punishment but peace. Not because God was overly romantic, imagining that Jesus would be welcomed with open arms. No, God was pleased because he wanted to reconcile us, to heal us, to save us by conquering death and sin. God was pleased because he has always believed that we are worth saving.  Whatever actually occurred through Jesus’ death and resurrection, it wasn’t to make God love us but rather to reveal the love of God. To speak Jesus, then, is to speak with extravagant tenderness.

Thirty years ago I was part of a church that ended up reaching out to a local biker gang. These were rough dudes who had little time for religion but who hummed when Jesus was spoken about. In one of the most memorable moments I’ve ever had in church, one of the bikers was asked to share his story of coming to faith, of trusting Jesus of God’s pleasing and peace. He spoke about a broken home and broken life that was being healed by Jesus and he began to weep as he blurted out to the entire congregation, “I hope y’all know that Jesus loves you so eff-ing much.” Yep, he dropped the F-bomb right in church. And friends, that was one of the most beautiful words I have ever heard. And he does. He does love you – not in some bored or distant sort of way but passionately and presently. So go and speak Jesus to your family, your neighbors, your enemies, yourself. Go and say, “Jesus was the image of God, the one who created all things, and who was pleased to love you so eff-ing much. He died and rose again. You can’t kill God’s love!” So go and speak Jesus extravagantly. And with that I have one more language lesson – the word “extravagantly” originally meant “to wander outside.” It meant “unusual” and “outside the bounds.” And in Jesus speak that’s exactly where and how love is. It’s everywhere – inside, outside, even upside-down. You can leave this building and find it in all things. You can walk courageously out of here and discover an extravagant love that sings from everywhere. Go and tell about it. Go and speak it. Go and speak Jesus. 

We ended the sermon by singing this song. It's beautiful. Click here if you want to hear it. 

The Shattered King: a Palm Sunday Poem ~ Luke 19:28-44

 

Brothers and sisters,

Pay attention – heed my words

Our story comes – through rhyming blurbs.

It all started with an ironic parade

With colt and cloak and shouts of praise

A worship band and with hands raised

Here comes the king

Let’s sing his praise

He blessed comes – to rule and reign

And we will win and glory gain (pause)

And all our foes will be subdued

Our national shame will be removed

These Roman invaders – crushed and killed.

We’ll sing and dance, a Patriot’s thrill

For it’s either us or them – us or them – us – NOT them. (pause)

But now here comes a troubled few.

Who worry rightly of this political brew

Shut them up – these leaders say

For you are not king as your disciples pray

Shut them up – for the Romans may hear.

Shut them up – a riot we fear.

Shut them up – this heretical cheer.

For politics doesn’t belong

And you are not our king. (pause)

And then he stops – this would-be king

And he finally speaks: If they didn’t sing –creation would croon, the rocks would ring – for I am (pause)

And he rode on, this donkey king

And came upon the city in Spring

With peasants working, markets churning, children playing, old men praying, soldiers marching, new life starting, elderly dying, people striving, people stirring, people – so many people - trying

And then . . .

And then it says in verse 41 . . .

Brothers and sisters, Jesus cried.

He bawled. He wept his bitter tears. He sobbed and coughed, face smeared, eyes red

We worship. He weeps.

Some want a king to conquer foes. He weeps.

Some want no part, fine with the status quo. He weeps.

And here I want to pause, to ponder,

to wonder in silence, to let our minds wander.

Take a moment – which person are you? (pause 30 seconds)

We worship. He weeps.

And whispers gently – You do not know the way of peace.

You do not know though you have heard

You do not see you think it absurd

That the king is here

And love is law

Forgiveness policy

Nonviolence the operation of shock and awe

And the platform that God is not against you, not against them, not mad at you, nor partisan for them

So which one are you?

Which problem do you have?

Do you want a kingdom without a cross? (pause)

Are you like the crowd? You want to win, to vanquish foes, to bless only kin, to drop the bomb, to wield the woes, to chant the slogans, and deal the blows –rejecting suffering, without love for enemies. You refuse - to be shattered.

Or do you want a cross without a kingdom? (pause)

Are you like the pharisees? You want a religion nice and tidy, with rules and order from the Almighty, redemption for yourself but without pity for those who languish in the city – without justice or public contention. You refuse - to shatter things.

Brothers and sisters, of every color, this Palm Sunday,

Reflect on this

Jesus declared himself to be king of this world.

And not some petty tyrant to tyrannize with law or hate and without grace

He came to establish God’s kingdom of peace, allowing himself to be shattered and battered, worn and torn. He is the shattered king.

So that finally God might be understood: God is love – willing to suffer what he should - and cry.

Let us not act as if his story is private - for it’s about cities, factories, mentalities, everything – do you see?

Let us awaken to the reality - that this week brings.

We worship. He weeps.

He is the shattered king.

Why is it important to lean into this story every year? We need to because it’s so easy to forget: to forget that Jesus is more than savior but declared himself king, to forget that the gospel is a kingdom for the present not simply a heaven for the future, to forget that the cross doesn’t simply belong in our hearts but in our streets, in our mouths, in our politics, to forget that disciples who worship Jesus can still misunderstand him. Luke goes to great lengths to reveal that the disciples don’t get Jesus – in vs.11 of ch. 19 he tells us that they thought the kingdom of God would immediately appear and be the destruction of Rome. Even after Jesus talked about turning the other cheek, taking up one’s cross, they thought that spilling Roman blood would save them. They believed that military might would be God’s glory but in AD 70 Jesus was proven right as the Roman General Titus destroyed Jerusalem.

Palm Sunday reminds us that our God often doesn’t live up to our expectations. We struggle to understand why God doesn’t act as we would want Him to, behave the way He is supposed to. Palm Sunday reveals that those who praise him are also quite willing to betray him when we encounter something that we don’t like – that cuts across the grain of our personal beliefs, our political hopes, our own ethical visions. Jesus himself was aware of this – in vs. 14 he cryptically describes his hearers, the disciples, no less, as citizens of a country who “hated” the one sent to them saying, “We do not want this man to rule over us.”

Friends, Jesus doesn’t betray us but sometimes his message can feel like betrayal. It grates against a desire to define ourselves by our nation, by our kinship, by our own vision of peace and prosperity. But he has declared that there is only one side for peace, one side for salvation, only one who is King. Jesus rides in on a donkey and tells us that there is no side but mine – and then he weeps. And yet, while he may weep, he will not stop. Will you join him?