Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. I'm asked to speak a couple of times a year on average, and I typically begin with an icebreaker or some attempt at humor. Not too long ago, I began by singing a children's Bible song about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. Another time, I began with a balloon trick. I do this all in the hope that even if just for a moment, you all might forget that intense feeling of disappointment when you saw me, rather than Nate, walk up on stage. And to add injury to insult, even though Nate paid me a compliment when he was up here, what you didn't see was that as he walked by me, he said, I lied, Doug. Is there any wonder I struggle with confidence and self-esteem issues? Today, however, perhaps because I've matured and become more confident, but more likely because I just see the futility of it all, I'm not doing that. No dog and pony show for you. Not today. We're going to dive right in. And I'll start by reading our passage for this morning. It's 1 Peter 2, verses 4-10 are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says, see, I lay a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you leave church on any given Sunday morning. If you ever took a sermon prep class at the local seminary or bought sermons for dummies at Amazon, I suspect both would implore the aspiring preacher to have an application in mind. Well, with today's passage, I don't have an application, and I'm not going to try to directly influence what you do when you leave here, but rather, perhaps, what you think. How we think about and understand things to a great extent determines what we do and how we behave. This dynamic is affirmed throughout all of Scripture. Yet when Jesus asks, who do you think I am? If an honest answer is that he is the resurrected Son of God and Lord and Savior, then your life is going to look very different from someone who doesn't share that view. Or, from a slightly different angle, if you'd like to be a more humble person, then unless you heed the Apostle Paul's warning not to think more highly of yourself than you ought, good luck, because it's going to be a struggle for you. Simply put, our actions flow from how we think and what we believe. Sometimes it's good not to do anything or take any action steps, but just to marinate in our thoughts. And what Peter wants us to think about in a word is identity. How should we think of ourselves? Who and what do we identify as and with? Who is our tribe? What is our truth? It's a very trendy and timely question in our present culture to ask how we identify. Who are we, really? Although it may be particularly trendy in today's culture, it's not a new question, but an ancient one. How we identify, who are we, and to whom do we ultimately belong, has always been the central question in Scripture ever since God first established his covenant with the Israelites and Moses at Sinai. And for the Christian believer today, there is still no more paramount a question. Now, for a long time, I found today's passage to be one of the many in the Bible that I kind of get, but I kind of don't. The importance, significance doesn't really fully sink in. Yeah, yeah, I'm a living stone. A royal priest? Sure. Part of a holy nation? You bet. Got it. But that's been changing over the last 20 years or so. My grasp of what Peter is asserting about my identity, who I truly am, has evolved and is still evolving, which is a good thing. And I owe this movement primarily to two very different but exceedingly impactful experiences in my life. Before sharing the first of those two key experiences, a few minutes of background are in order. I was the only boy with three sisters growing up outside of Chicago. My older sister Lynn fell in love and married Andrew one year out of high school. She was 18 and he 19. Now it turns out that Andrew's parents had been missionaries in Africa in a Portuguese colony called Angola. And that's where he was raised until the age of 12. As was the case with a number of African colonies at that time. violent insurgencies were spreading, and Angola was no exception. When independence finally came in 1975, Angola plunged for the next 27 years into civil war, the longest in all of Africa. The government became communist, aided by the Soviets and some 50,000 Cuban troops. Our CIA and South African defense forces supported the anti-communist rebels and, as is always the case, it was the people of Angola who suffered. Already a poor and underdeveloped country, Angola effectively went completely dark. No communication, no news, no way of knowing if any of the people Andrew and his family had ever lived with, worked with, played with, worshipped with, or even still alive. Then in the mid-1990s, after two decades of war, little snippets of news began to leak out of the country. During a temporary ceasefire, Andrew and his father were able to return in the hope of possibly reconnecting with old friends. What they found was that while many had somehow managed to survive, no family had escaped the carnage untouched by tragedy. What little infrastructure there had been was no more. Formal education for most of the nation's children had ceased. The mission station where Andrew had grown up was destroyed. Living for the average person, always difficult in Angola, had become a very tenuous affair. The next year, my sister, who had never been out of the United States, joined her husband in returning to Angola to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect there were some really, really, really good hotel deals. Shortly after that visit, violence erupted again, and the country fell back into darkness. Back home safely in the U.S., my sister and brother-in-law watched on CNN what was going on in the Balkans and guessed that the same type of refugee crisis, people and families fleeing the conflict zone to save themselves, just what's like happening now in the Ukraine, must surely be happening along Angola's borders as well. So with little fanfare, they flew to Windhoek, Namibia, to look for some refugees to help. Upon arriving, they were told that their plan was incredibly naive and dangerous. However, they did learn of several large refugee camps established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in the remote bush on the border, Angolan border, near both Namibia and Zambia. And this is where they began taking their four kids and small teams of like-minded people for the next several years. In 2002, I joined them for the first time in visiting Nangweshi Refuge Camp in western Zambia. And just as an editorial note, regardless what you think of the United Nations, what they do in the most forlorn and dangerous places on earth, in the most desperate of times for tens and tens and tens of thousands of refugees who, through no fault of their own, are barely clinging to survival. It's magnificent. It's just magnificent. We spent quite a bit of time that trip in the new arrivals area, where, after days, weeks, months, and even years, Angolan refugees would emerge cold, sick, hungry, naked, and afraid. My brother-in-law used to say that if our Messiah walks anywhere in Nangweshi, he most certainly walks among the new arrivals. Later that same year, a lasting peace accord was signed. So instead of going back to the refugee camps, it was decided that a small team would go into Angola, Tukwitu, the provincial capital in the central highlands, and then proceed further up into the countryside to the old mission station where Andrew had been raised. Our hope was to build a schoolhouse. Flying into Kuitu, our pilot, out of habit and an abundance of caution, came in very high doing corkscrew turns to make a more difficult target for enemy fire. When we landed, I modestly and politely dashed off the runway into some tall grass to relieve myself. When I came back, I saw the pilot going to the bathroom right next to the plane. And I asked him, what's up with that? And he said the airport was mined and that one should never leave the runway. Little heads up would have been helpful. Having never been in a war zone, Quito was just like you see on the news. Collapsed buildings, bullet holes everywhere. It was thought at the time to have more landmines than any other city in the world. Some of you older folk and any Anglophiles might even remember Princess Diana doing a famous photo shoot in Kuitu in 1997 to bring attention to her anti-landmine campaign. Our final destination was the old destroyed mission station at Jolanda. And it was here, by far the most remote and primitive place I'd ever been in my life. No running water or plumbing of any kind, no electricity, no phones, that the first experience that so influenced my understanding of 1 Peter 2 took place. Now, Chelonda's not a town or village as we know them. No stores, no services, no nothing. Just some small mud and thatch huts spread over a wide area. There was, however, a tiny wooden chapel where several of the villagers would meet every morning at six to start their day. Several times, I got up and walked the three-quarter of a mile to that chapel, sitting down in the dim early morning light with about a half dozen villagers, both men and women. It was all very informal, a reading or two from scripture, a few hymns, a time of prayer. Everything sung, spoken, or read, either in Portuguese or Mbundu. Now, when our three kids were very young, Debbie and my three kids, we used to play a game in which they would try to pick out what was odd or out of place in a particular picture. They wouldn't have found this scene very challenging. Sitting among those villagers who had all just come through almost four decades of armed conflict and upheaval, I might as well have been from Mars. The contrast so stark. Subsistence farmers who, like all but the most privileged Angolans, had been born into suffering and struggle, had lived their entire lives in suffering and struggle, and would die in suffering and struggle. It was truly a where's Waldo on steroids. My looks, my entire life experience, my language, my priorities, my expectations, my dreams couldn't have been more different even if I literally had been from Mars. Yet, as strange as that may seem, those mornings were an unbelievable blessing to me, spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. How could that possibly be? Hold that question in your minds for just a few moments. The second key experience in my life that has so helped shape my grasp of today's passage is far removed from my time in Angola, but no less impactful. Years ago, I was asked if I could come up with a curriculum which would provide a framework a framework for understanding god's entire story is revealed in the bible all of redemptive history from genesis to revelation despite being uniquely unqualified to do so i said yes from that exercise and from the five times I subsequently facilitated that class, my eyes were open to all sorts of things about God and his word. One of the most enduring lessons I learned was that God chose to reveal his purposes and his plans slowly and incrementally over a long period of time. In other words, he just didn't blurt out what he intended to do and leave it at that. If he had, the Bible would be a lot shorter, perhaps just a pamphlet. But it would also be completely incomprehensible. Instead, in his wisdom, God first unveils his plans in ways both the original audience and subsequent readers might be able to understand and get their arms around a little bit. Then over time, the same themes and ideas are developed further, expanding in scope and complexity until they reach their ultimate fulfillment, which typically is something we never, ever could have envisioned at the outset. Thankfully, almost every aspect of God's redemptive plan is introduced and developed this way in Scripture, including a key element of the plan that Peter highlights, God's house, the place where he dwells with his people. We're first introduced to this concept of God's dwelling place shortly after he rescued his people out of slavery in Egypt. God established a covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai in which he promises to be their God and to dwell with them as long as they agree to place their faith and trust in him. The Israelites were to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation set apart simple tent set up outside the Israelite camp where the Lord would meet with Moses. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all of the Israelites would stand and watch. As Moses entered the tent, the presence of God would descend in a pillar of cloud and fill that little tent with his glory. While still camped at Sinai, the Lord commanded his people to build a larger and more elaborate tent, the tabernacle, to serve as a sanctuary. Throughout all their time in the desert, the Lord's presence was over that tabernacle in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Spectacular. Absolutely. It must have been amazing to witness. But nothing in comparison to what God ultimately had in store. Once in the promised land, Israel's greatest king, David, wanted to build a permanent house, a temple for the Lord. But he was told that such a house wasn't his to build. Rather, a son of his would be the one to build such a house. And that promise was literally fulfilled when David's son Solomon completed the first temple and then over the course of 14 days dedicated it to the Lord by sacrificing 22,000 cattle and 120,000 sheep and goats. Quite the ceremony. But even at this relatively early stage in the biblical story, God is already encouraging us to lift up our gaze, our line of sight from the physical and the here and now to a time much farther into the future. This point is hammered home when Israel, because of its inability to keep the covenant, is conquered by the Babylonians, Solomon's great temple is destroyed, and the people exiled to foreign lands. Later efforts to rebuild the temple are never able to recapture its former glory. All during this time, though, a steady drumbeat of Old Testament prophecies tell of another king who is coming, an even greater son of David whose kingdom and throne will endure forever. And it is this king who will build God's true and everlasting house. The prophet Isaiah speaks of God laying a precious cornerstone and that whoever trusts in it, in that cornerstone, will never be ashamed. Although introduced and developed in a way the Israelites and the rest of us could understand, a tent, a tabernacle, a great temple made of stone, the place where God ultimately planned to dwell with his people could never be contained within a building built by man, no matter how extravagant. What God had in mind was always going to be far, far grander in scope and scale and significance. When Jesus came in the flesh to dwell, to tabernacle with us on earth, it became clear that he was God's precious cornerstone. He was the new and better temple of God, a magnificent, vibrant, growing spiritual house built with living stones, those of us who have placed their faith, hope, and trust in Jesus' name. Now that's something. That's a big deal. We as believers are nothing less than living, breathing stones who are together being built into a magnificent house, a holy temple in which God lives by His Spirit. Let's take a moment to look around. I'm serious. Take a moment to look at the people on either side of you. Do it! In front of you and behind you. Please don't frustrate me. You are looking at living stones. God's royal priests. Members of a holy nation. I know, I know, it's a little rough, a little ragged in spots. Depending on who you're sitting near, it might at first blush, be a bit hard to fathom. But Peter has no qualms about asserting our true identities as that is who believers truly are in Christ. And those are more than just a bunch of fancy words and spiritual-sounding titles. For the same resurrection life that Christ experienced animates us now. We are truly living stones. And we are royal priests not simply because we now have direct and privileged access to God, but also because we offer our lives, both in word and deed, as acceptable and pleasing sacrifices to him. And as God's people, it is our high calling to represent his kingdom on earth, to be a people who make known what God has done. Not only does this have great implications for how we view ourselves, but it also has great implications for how we view the church. For if we are living stones being built together into God's great spiritual house, then our significance, activity, and purpose as individual believers cannot be realized apart from other believers. After all, one needs a bunch of living stones to build a spiritual house. In a very real sense, we belong to one another. And not only do we belong to and depend upon believers today, as in this faith community we call grace, for example, but we are also being built together and united with the living stones of all previous generations. And just as future generations of believers will be united and built together with us. Circling back to those early mornings I spent in that dimly lit little chapel in the middle of nowhere in the central highlands of rural Angola, I shared earlier that as strange as it may have seemed, those mornings were a great blessing. But it no longer seems so strange to me. What I now realize is there was a reason why those mornings were so spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. For they were among the few times in my life, maybe the only times, that all the things that I normally associate with who I am, all the things that I typically assume make up my identity, had been removed. Like varnish stripping away all the many layers of paint. All that remained was my true and eternal identity. And I was privileged to be sharing a few sacred moments with people who weren't different than me at all, but who at their core and their fundamental essence were just like me. Living stones, royal priests, people who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, redeemed out of darkness and into his wonderful light. And for a moment, at least, I knew what Peter was talking about. So before I dismiss this this morning, I'd like to close by reading a passage from Psalm 118, verses 22 through 23. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Let's think about that as we leave this morning. Amen.
Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. I'm asked to speak a couple of times a year on average, and I typically begin with an icebreaker or some attempt at humor. Not too long ago, I began by singing a children's Bible song about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. Another time, I began with a balloon trick. I do this all in the hope that even if just for a moment, you all might forget that intense feeling of disappointment when you saw me, rather than Nate, walk up on stage. And to add injury to insult, even though Nate paid me a compliment when he was up here, what you didn't see was that as he walked by me, he said, I lied, Doug. Is there any wonder I struggle with confidence and self-esteem issues? Today, however, perhaps because I've matured and become more confident, but more likely because I just see the futility of it all, I'm not doing that. No dog and pony show for you. Not today. We're going to dive right in. And I'll start by reading our passage for this morning. It's 1 Peter 2, verses 4-10 are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says, see, I lay a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you leave church on any given Sunday morning. If you ever took a sermon prep class at the local seminary or bought sermons for dummies at Amazon, I suspect both would implore the aspiring preacher to have an application in mind. Well, with today's passage, I don't have an application, and I'm not going to try to directly influence what you do when you leave here, but rather, perhaps, what you think. How we think about and understand things to a great extent determines what we do and how we behave. This dynamic is affirmed throughout all of Scripture. Yet when Jesus asks, who do you think I am? If an honest answer is that he is the resurrected Son of God and Lord and Savior, then your life is going to look very different from someone who doesn't share that view. Or, from a slightly different angle, if you'd like to be a more humble person, then unless you heed the Apostle Paul's warning not to think more highly of yourself than you ought, good luck, because it's going to be a struggle for you. Simply put, our actions flow from how we think and what we believe. Sometimes it's good not to do anything or take any action steps, but just to marinate in our thoughts. And what Peter wants us to think about in a word is identity. How should we think of ourselves? Who and what do we identify as and with? Who is our tribe? What is our truth? It's a very trendy and timely question in our present culture to ask how we identify. Who are we, really? Although it may be particularly trendy in today's culture, it's not a new question, but an ancient one. How we identify, who are we, and to whom do we ultimately belong, has always been the central question in Scripture ever since God first established his covenant with the Israelites and Moses at Sinai. And for the Christian believer today, there is still no more paramount a question. Now, for a long time, I found today's passage to be one of the many in the Bible that I kind of get, but I kind of don't. The importance, significance doesn't really fully sink in. Yeah, yeah, I'm a living stone. A royal priest? Sure. Part of a holy nation? You bet. Got it. But that's been changing over the last 20 years or so. My grasp of what Peter is asserting about my identity, who I truly am, has evolved and is still evolving, which is a good thing. And I owe this movement primarily to two very different but exceedingly impactful experiences in my life. Before sharing the first of those two key experiences, a few minutes of background are in order. I was the only boy with three sisters growing up outside of Chicago. My older sister Lynn fell in love and married Andrew one year out of high school. She was 18 and he 19. Now it turns out that Andrew's parents had been missionaries in Africa in a Portuguese colony called Angola. And that's where he was raised until the age of 12. As was the case with a number of African colonies at that time. violent insurgencies were spreading, and Angola was no exception. When independence finally came in 1975, Angola plunged for the next 27 years into civil war, the longest in all of Africa. The government became communist, aided by the Soviets and some 50,000 Cuban troops. Our CIA and South African defense forces supported the anti-communist rebels and, as is always the case, it was the people of Angola who suffered. Already a poor and underdeveloped country, Angola effectively went completely dark. No communication, no news, no way of knowing if any of the people Andrew and his family had ever lived with, worked with, played with, worshipped with, or even still alive. Then in the mid-1990s, after two decades of war, little snippets of news began to leak out of the country. During a temporary ceasefire, Andrew and his father were able to return in the hope of possibly reconnecting with old friends. What they found was that while many had somehow managed to survive, no family had escaped the carnage untouched by tragedy. What little infrastructure there had been was no more. Formal education for most of the nation's children had ceased. The mission station where Andrew had grown up was destroyed. Living for the average person, always difficult in Angola, had become a very tenuous affair. The next year, my sister, who had never been out of the United States, joined her husband in returning to Angola to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect there were some really, really, really good hotel deals. Shortly after that visit, violence erupted again, and the country fell back into darkness. Back home safely in the U.S., my sister and brother-in-law watched on CNN what was going on in the Balkans and guessed that the same type of refugee crisis, people and families fleeing the conflict zone to save themselves, just what's like happening now in the Ukraine, must surely be happening along Angola's borders as well. So with little fanfare, they flew to Windhoek, Namibia, to look for some refugees to help. Upon arriving, they were told that their plan was incredibly naive and dangerous. However, they did learn of several large refugee camps established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in the remote bush on the border, Angolan border, near both Namibia and Zambia. And this is where they began taking their four kids and small teams of like-minded people for the next several years. In 2002, I joined them for the first time in visiting Nangweshi Refuge Camp in western Zambia. And just as an editorial note, regardless what you think of the United Nations, what they do in the most forlorn and dangerous places on earth, in the most desperate of times for tens and tens and tens of thousands of refugees who, through no fault of their own, are barely clinging to survival. It's magnificent. It's just magnificent. We spent quite a bit of time that trip in the new arrivals area, where, after days, weeks, months, and even years, Angolan refugees would emerge cold, sick, hungry, naked, and afraid. My brother-in-law used to say that if our Messiah walks anywhere in Nangweshi, he most certainly walks among the new arrivals. Later that same year, a lasting peace accord was signed. So instead of going back to the refugee camps, it was decided that a small team would go into Angola, Tukwitu, the provincial capital in the central highlands, and then proceed further up into the countryside to the old mission station where Andrew had been raised. Our hope was to build a schoolhouse. Flying into Kuitu, our pilot, out of habit and an abundance of caution, came in very high doing corkscrew turns to make a more difficult target for enemy fire. When we landed, I modestly and politely dashed off the runway into some tall grass to relieve myself. When I came back, I saw the pilot going to the bathroom right next to the plane. And I asked him, what's up with that? And he said the airport was mined and that one should never leave the runway. Little heads up would have been helpful. Having never been in a war zone, Quito was just like you see on the news. Collapsed buildings, bullet holes everywhere. It was thought at the time to have more landmines than any other city in the world. Some of you older folk and any Anglophiles might even remember Princess Diana doing a famous photo shoot in Kuitu in 1997 to bring attention to her anti-landmine campaign. Our final destination was the old destroyed mission station at Jolanda. And it was here, by far the most remote and primitive place I'd ever been in my life. No running water or plumbing of any kind, no electricity, no phones, that the first experience that so influenced my understanding of 1 Peter 2 took place. Now, Chelonda's not a town or village as we know them. No stores, no services, no nothing. Just some small mud and thatch huts spread over a wide area. There was, however, a tiny wooden chapel where several of the villagers would meet every morning at six to start their day. Several times, I got up and walked the three-quarter of a mile to that chapel, sitting down in the dim early morning light with about a half dozen villagers, both men and women. It was all very informal, a reading or two from scripture, a few hymns, a time of prayer. Everything sung, spoken, or read, either in Portuguese or Mbundu. Now, when our three kids were very young, Debbie and my three kids, we used to play a game in which they would try to pick out what was odd or out of place in a particular picture. They wouldn't have found this scene very challenging. Sitting among those villagers who had all just come through almost four decades of armed conflict and upheaval, I might as well have been from Mars. The contrast so stark. Subsistence farmers who, like all but the most privileged Angolans, had been born into suffering and struggle, had lived their entire lives in suffering and struggle, and would die in suffering and struggle. It was truly a where's Waldo on steroids. My looks, my entire life experience, my language, my priorities, my expectations, my dreams couldn't have been more different even if I literally had been from Mars. Yet, as strange as that may seem, those mornings were an unbelievable blessing to me, spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. How could that possibly be? Hold that question in your minds for just a few moments. The second key experience in my life that has so helped shape my grasp of today's passage is far removed from my time in Angola, but no less impactful. Years ago, I was asked if I could come up with a curriculum which would provide a framework a framework for understanding god's entire story is revealed in the bible all of redemptive history from genesis to revelation despite being uniquely unqualified to do so i said yes from that exercise and from the five times I subsequently facilitated that class, my eyes were open to all sorts of things about God and his word. One of the most enduring lessons I learned was that God chose to reveal his purposes and his plans slowly and incrementally over a long period of time. In other words, he just didn't blurt out what he intended to do and leave it at that. If he had, the Bible would be a lot shorter, perhaps just a pamphlet. But it would also be completely incomprehensible. Instead, in his wisdom, God first unveils his plans in ways both the original audience and subsequent readers might be able to understand and get their arms around a little bit. Then over time, the same themes and ideas are developed further, expanding in scope and complexity until they reach their ultimate fulfillment, which typically is something we never, ever could have envisioned at the outset. Thankfully, almost every aspect of God's redemptive plan is introduced and developed this way in Scripture, including a key element of the plan that Peter highlights, God's house, the place where he dwells with his people. We're first introduced to this concept of God's dwelling place shortly after he rescued his people out of slavery in Egypt. God established a covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai in which he promises to be their God and to dwell with them as long as they agree to place their faith and trust in him. The Israelites were to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation set apart simple tent set up outside the Israelite camp where the Lord would meet with Moses. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all of the Israelites would stand and watch. As Moses entered the tent, the presence of God would descend in a pillar of cloud and fill that little tent with his glory. While still camped at Sinai, the Lord commanded his people to build a larger and more elaborate tent, the tabernacle, to serve as a sanctuary. Throughout all their time in the desert, the Lord's presence was over that tabernacle in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Spectacular. Absolutely. It must have been amazing to witness. But nothing in comparison to what God ultimately had in store. Once in the promised land, Israel's greatest king, David, wanted to build a permanent house, a temple for the Lord. But he was told that such a house wasn't his to build. Rather, a son of his would be the one to build such a house. And that promise was literally fulfilled when David's son Solomon completed the first temple and then over the course of 14 days dedicated it to the Lord by sacrificing 22,000 cattle and 120,000 sheep and goats. Quite the ceremony. But even at this relatively early stage in the biblical story, God is already encouraging us to lift up our gaze, our line of sight from the physical and the here and now to a time much farther into the future. This point is hammered home when Israel, because of its inability to keep the covenant, is conquered by the Babylonians, Solomon's great temple is destroyed, and the people exiled to foreign lands. Later efforts to rebuild the temple are never able to recapture its former glory. All during this time, though, a steady drumbeat of Old Testament prophecies tell of another king who is coming, an even greater son of David whose kingdom and throne will endure forever. And it is this king who will build God's true and everlasting house. The prophet Isaiah speaks of God laying a precious cornerstone and that whoever trusts in it, in that cornerstone, will never be ashamed. Although introduced and developed in a way the Israelites and the rest of us could understand, a tent, a tabernacle, a great temple made of stone, the place where God ultimately planned to dwell with his people could never be contained within a building built by man, no matter how extravagant. What God had in mind was always going to be far, far grander in scope and scale and significance. When Jesus came in the flesh to dwell, to tabernacle with us on earth, it became clear that he was God's precious cornerstone. He was the new and better temple of God, a magnificent, vibrant, growing spiritual house built with living stones, those of us who have placed their faith, hope, and trust in Jesus' name. Now that's something. That's a big deal. We as believers are nothing less than living, breathing stones who are together being built into a magnificent house, a holy temple in which God lives by His Spirit. Let's take a moment to look around. I'm serious. Take a moment to look at the people on either side of you. Do it! In front of you and behind you. Please don't frustrate me. You are looking at living stones. God's royal priests. Members of a holy nation. I know, I know, it's a little rough, a little ragged in spots. Depending on who you're sitting near, it might at first blush, be a bit hard to fathom. But Peter has no qualms about asserting our true identities as that is who believers truly are in Christ. And those are more than just a bunch of fancy words and spiritual-sounding titles. For the same resurrection life that Christ experienced animates us now. We are truly living stones. And we are royal priests not simply because we now have direct and privileged access to God, but also because we offer our lives, both in word and deed, as acceptable and pleasing sacrifices to him. And as God's people, it is our high calling to represent his kingdom on earth, to be a people who make known what God has done. Not only does this have great implications for how we view ourselves, but it also has great implications for how we view the church. For if we are living stones being built together into God's great spiritual house, then our significance, activity, and purpose as individual believers cannot be realized apart from other believers. After all, one needs a bunch of living stones to build a spiritual house. In a very real sense, we belong to one another. And not only do we belong to and depend upon believers today, as in this faith community we call grace, for example, but we are also being built together and united with the living stones of all previous generations. And just as future generations of believers will be united and built together with us. Circling back to those early mornings I spent in that dimly lit little chapel in the middle of nowhere in the central highlands of rural Angola, I shared earlier that as strange as it may have seemed, those mornings were a great blessing. But it no longer seems so strange to me. What I now realize is there was a reason why those mornings were so spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. For they were among the few times in my life, maybe the only times, that all the things that I normally associate with who I am, all the things that I typically assume make up my identity, had been removed. Like varnish stripping away all the many layers of paint. All that remained was my true and eternal identity. And I was privileged to be sharing a few sacred moments with people who weren't different than me at all, but who at their core and their fundamental essence were just like me. Living stones, royal priests, people who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, redeemed out of darkness and into his wonderful light. And for a moment, at least, I knew what Peter was talking about. So before I dismiss this this morning, I'd like to close by reading a passage from Psalm 118, verses 22 through 23. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Let's think about that as we leave this morning. Amen.
Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. I'm asked to speak a couple of times a year on average, and I typically begin with an icebreaker or some attempt at humor. Not too long ago, I began by singing a children's Bible song about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. Another time, I began with a balloon trick. I do this all in the hope that even if just for a moment, you all might forget that intense feeling of disappointment when you saw me, rather than Nate, walk up on stage. And to add injury to insult, even though Nate paid me a compliment when he was up here, what you didn't see was that as he walked by me, he said, I lied, Doug. Is there any wonder I struggle with confidence and self-esteem issues? Today, however, perhaps because I've matured and become more confident, but more likely because I just see the futility of it all, I'm not doing that. No dog and pony show for you. Not today. We're going to dive right in. And I'll start by reading our passage for this morning. It's 1 Peter 2, verses 4-10 are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says, see, I lay a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you leave church on any given Sunday morning. If you ever took a sermon prep class at the local seminary or bought sermons for dummies at Amazon, I suspect both would implore the aspiring preacher to have an application in mind. Well, with today's passage, I don't have an application, and I'm not going to try to directly influence what you do when you leave here, but rather, perhaps, what you think. How we think about and understand things to a great extent determines what we do and how we behave. This dynamic is affirmed throughout all of Scripture. Yet when Jesus asks, who do you think I am? If an honest answer is that he is the resurrected Son of God and Lord and Savior, then your life is going to look very different from someone who doesn't share that view. Or, from a slightly different angle, if you'd like to be a more humble person, then unless you heed the Apostle Paul's warning not to think more highly of yourself than you ought, good luck, because it's going to be a struggle for you. Simply put, our actions flow from how we think and what we believe. Sometimes it's good not to do anything or take any action steps, but just to marinate in our thoughts. And what Peter wants us to think about in a word is identity. How should we think of ourselves? Who and what do we identify as and with? Who is our tribe? What is our truth? It's a very trendy and timely question in our present culture to ask how we identify. Who are we, really? Although it may be particularly trendy in today's culture, it's not a new question, but an ancient one. How we identify, who are we, and to whom do we ultimately belong, has always been the central question in Scripture ever since God first established his covenant with the Israelites and Moses at Sinai. And for the Christian believer today, there is still no more paramount a question. Now, for a long time, I found today's passage to be one of the many in the Bible that I kind of get, but I kind of don't. The importance, significance doesn't really fully sink in. Yeah, yeah, I'm a living stone. A royal priest? Sure. Part of a holy nation? You bet. Got it. But that's been changing over the last 20 years or so. My grasp of what Peter is asserting about my identity, who I truly am, has evolved and is still evolving, which is a good thing. And I owe this movement primarily to two very different but exceedingly impactful experiences in my life. Before sharing the first of those two key experiences, a few minutes of background are in order. I was the only boy with three sisters growing up outside of Chicago. My older sister Lynn fell in love and married Andrew one year out of high school. She was 18 and he 19. Now it turns out that Andrew's parents had been missionaries in Africa in a Portuguese colony called Angola. And that's where he was raised until the age of 12. As was the case with a number of African colonies at that time. violent insurgencies were spreading, and Angola was no exception. When independence finally came in 1975, Angola plunged for the next 27 years into civil war, the longest in all of Africa. The government became communist, aided by the Soviets and some 50,000 Cuban troops. Our CIA and South African defense forces supported the anti-communist rebels and, as is always the case, it was the people of Angola who suffered. Already a poor and underdeveloped country, Angola effectively went completely dark. No communication, no news, no way of knowing if any of the people Andrew and his family had ever lived with, worked with, played with, worshipped with, or even still alive. Then in the mid-1990s, after two decades of war, little snippets of news began to leak out of the country. During a temporary ceasefire, Andrew and his father were able to return in the hope of possibly reconnecting with old friends. What they found was that while many had somehow managed to survive, no family had escaped the carnage untouched by tragedy. What little infrastructure there had been was no more. Formal education for most of the nation's children had ceased. The mission station where Andrew had grown up was destroyed. Living for the average person, always difficult in Angola, had become a very tenuous affair. The next year, my sister, who had never been out of the United States, joined her husband in returning to Angola to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect there were some really, really, really good hotel deals. Shortly after that visit, violence erupted again, and the country fell back into darkness. Back home safely in the U.S., my sister and brother-in-law watched on CNN what was going on in the Balkans and guessed that the same type of refugee crisis, people and families fleeing the conflict zone to save themselves, just what's like happening now in the Ukraine, must surely be happening along Angola's borders as well. So with little fanfare, they flew to Windhoek, Namibia, to look for some refugees to help. Upon arriving, they were told that their plan was incredibly naive and dangerous. However, they did learn of several large refugee camps established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in the remote bush on the border, Angolan border, near both Namibia and Zambia. And this is where they began taking their four kids and small teams of like-minded people for the next several years. In 2002, I joined them for the first time in visiting Nangweshi Refuge Camp in western Zambia. And just as an editorial note, regardless what you think of the United Nations, what they do in the most forlorn and dangerous places on earth, in the most desperate of times for tens and tens and tens of thousands of refugees who, through no fault of their own, are barely clinging to survival. It's magnificent. It's just magnificent. We spent quite a bit of time that trip in the new arrivals area, where, after days, weeks, months, and even years, Angolan refugees would emerge cold, sick, hungry, naked, and afraid. My brother-in-law used to say that if our Messiah walks anywhere in Nangweshi, he most certainly walks among the new arrivals. Later that same year, a lasting peace accord was signed. So instead of going back to the refugee camps, it was decided that a small team would go into Angola, Tukwitu, the provincial capital in the central highlands, and then proceed further up into the countryside to the old mission station where Andrew had been raised. Our hope was to build a schoolhouse. Flying into Kuitu, our pilot, out of habit and an abundance of caution, came in very high doing corkscrew turns to make a more difficult target for enemy fire. When we landed, I modestly and politely dashed off the runway into some tall grass to relieve myself. When I came back, I saw the pilot going to the bathroom right next to the plane. And I asked him, what's up with that? And he said the airport was mined and that one should never leave the runway. Little heads up would have been helpful. Having never been in a war zone, Quito was just like you see on the news. Collapsed buildings, bullet holes everywhere. It was thought at the time to have more landmines than any other city in the world. Some of you older folk and any Anglophiles might even remember Princess Diana doing a famous photo shoot in Kuitu in 1997 to bring attention to her anti-landmine campaign. Our final destination was the old destroyed mission station at Jolanda. And it was here, by far the most remote and primitive place I'd ever been in my life. No running water or plumbing of any kind, no electricity, no phones, that the first experience that so influenced my understanding of 1 Peter 2 took place. Now, Chelonda's not a town or village as we know them. No stores, no services, no nothing. Just some small mud and thatch huts spread over a wide area. There was, however, a tiny wooden chapel where several of the villagers would meet every morning at six to start their day. Several times, I got up and walked the three-quarter of a mile to that chapel, sitting down in the dim early morning light with about a half dozen villagers, both men and women. It was all very informal, a reading or two from scripture, a few hymns, a time of prayer. Everything sung, spoken, or read, either in Portuguese or Mbundu. Now, when our three kids were very young, Debbie and my three kids, we used to play a game in which they would try to pick out what was odd or out of place in a particular picture. They wouldn't have found this scene very challenging. Sitting among those villagers who had all just come through almost four decades of armed conflict and upheaval, I might as well have been from Mars. The contrast so stark. Subsistence farmers who, like all but the most privileged Angolans, had been born into suffering and struggle, had lived their entire lives in suffering and struggle, and would die in suffering and struggle. It was truly a where's Waldo on steroids. My looks, my entire life experience, my language, my priorities, my expectations, my dreams couldn't have been more different even if I literally had been from Mars. Yet, as strange as that may seem, those mornings were an unbelievable blessing to me, spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. How could that possibly be? Hold that question in your minds for just a few moments. The second key experience in my life that has so helped shape my grasp of today's passage is far removed from my time in Angola, but no less impactful. Years ago, I was asked if I could come up with a curriculum which would provide a framework a framework for understanding god's entire story is revealed in the bible all of redemptive history from genesis to revelation despite being uniquely unqualified to do so i said yes from that exercise and from the five times I subsequently facilitated that class, my eyes were open to all sorts of things about God and his word. One of the most enduring lessons I learned was that God chose to reveal his purposes and his plans slowly and incrementally over a long period of time. In other words, he just didn't blurt out what he intended to do and leave it at that. If he had, the Bible would be a lot shorter, perhaps just a pamphlet. But it would also be completely incomprehensible. Instead, in his wisdom, God first unveils his plans in ways both the original audience and subsequent readers might be able to understand and get their arms around a little bit. Then over time, the same themes and ideas are developed further, expanding in scope and complexity until they reach their ultimate fulfillment, which typically is something we never, ever could have envisioned at the outset. Thankfully, almost every aspect of God's redemptive plan is introduced and developed this way in Scripture, including a key element of the plan that Peter highlights, God's house, the place where he dwells with his people. We're first introduced to this concept of God's dwelling place shortly after he rescued his people out of slavery in Egypt. God established a covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai in which he promises to be their God and to dwell with them as long as they agree to place their faith and trust in him. The Israelites were to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation set apart simple tent set up outside the Israelite camp where the Lord would meet with Moses. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all of the Israelites would stand and watch. As Moses entered the tent, the presence of God would descend in a pillar of cloud and fill that little tent with his glory. While still camped at Sinai, the Lord commanded his people to build a larger and more elaborate tent, the tabernacle, to serve as a sanctuary. Throughout all their time in the desert, the Lord's presence was over that tabernacle in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Spectacular. Absolutely. It must have been amazing to witness. But nothing in comparison to what God ultimately had in store. Once in the promised land, Israel's greatest king, David, wanted to build a permanent house, a temple for the Lord. But he was told that such a house wasn't his to build. Rather, a son of his would be the one to build such a house. And that promise was literally fulfilled when David's son Solomon completed the first temple and then over the course of 14 days dedicated it to the Lord by sacrificing 22,000 cattle and 120,000 sheep and goats. Quite the ceremony. But even at this relatively early stage in the biblical story, God is already encouraging us to lift up our gaze, our line of sight from the physical and the here and now to a time much farther into the future. This point is hammered home when Israel, because of its inability to keep the covenant, is conquered by the Babylonians, Solomon's great temple is destroyed, and the people exiled to foreign lands. Later efforts to rebuild the temple are never able to recapture its former glory. All during this time, though, a steady drumbeat of Old Testament prophecies tell of another king who is coming, an even greater son of David whose kingdom and throne will endure forever. And it is this king who will build God's true and everlasting house. The prophet Isaiah speaks of God laying a precious cornerstone and that whoever trusts in it, in that cornerstone, will never be ashamed. Although introduced and developed in a way the Israelites and the rest of us could understand, a tent, a tabernacle, a great temple made of stone, the place where God ultimately planned to dwell with his people could never be contained within a building built by man, no matter how extravagant. What God had in mind was always going to be far, far grander in scope and scale and significance. When Jesus came in the flesh to dwell, to tabernacle with us on earth, it became clear that he was God's precious cornerstone. He was the new and better temple of God, a magnificent, vibrant, growing spiritual house built with living stones, those of us who have placed their faith, hope, and trust in Jesus' name. Now that's something. That's a big deal. We as believers are nothing less than living, breathing stones who are together being built into a magnificent house, a holy temple in which God lives by His Spirit. Let's take a moment to look around. I'm serious. Take a moment to look at the people on either side of you. Do it! In front of you and behind you. Please don't frustrate me. You are looking at living stones. God's royal priests. Members of a holy nation. I know, I know, it's a little rough, a little ragged in spots. Depending on who you're sitting near, it might at first blush, be a bit hard to fathom. But Peter has no qualms about asserting our true identities as that is who believers truly are in Christ. And those are more than just a bunch of fancy words and spiritual-sounding titles. For the same resurrection life that Christ experienced animates us now. We are truly living stones. And we are royal priests not simply because we now have direct and privileged access to God, but also because we offer our lives, both in word and deed, as acceptable and pleasing sacrifices to him. And as God's people, it is our high calling to represent his kingdom on earth, to be a people who make known what God has done. Not only does this have great implications for how we view ourselves, but it also has great implications for how we view the church. For if we are living stones being built together into God's great spiritual house, then our significance, activity, and purpose as individual believers cannot be realized apart from other believers. After all, one needs a bunch of living stones to build a spiritual house. In a very real sense, we belong to one another. And not only do we belong to and depend upon believers today, as in this faith community we call grace, for example, but we are also being built together and united with the living stones of all previous generations. And just as future generations of believers will be united and built together with us. Circling back to those early mornings I spent in that dimly lit little chapel in the middle of nowhere in the central highlands of rural Angola, I shared earlier that as strange as it may have seemed, those mornings were a great blessing. But it no longer seems so strange to me. What I now realize is there was a reason why those mornings were so spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. For they were among the few times in my life, maybe the only times, that all the things that I normally associate with who I am, all the things that I typically assume make up my identity, had been removed. Like varnish stripping away all the many layers of paint. All that remained was my true and eternal identity. And I was privileged to be sharing a few sacred moments with people who weren't different than me at all, but who at their core and their fundamental essence were just like me. Living stones, royal priests, people who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, redeemed out of darkness and into his wonderful light. And for a moment, at least, I knew what Peter was talking about. So before I dismiss this this morning, I'd like to close by reading a passage from Psalm 118, verses 22 through 23. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Let's think about that as we leave this morning. Amen.
Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. I'm asked to speak a couple of times a year on average, and I typically begin with an icebreaker or some attempt at humor. Not too long ago, I began by singing a children's Bible song about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. Another time, I began with a balloon trick. I do this all in the hope that even if just for a moment, you all might forget that intense feeling of disappointment when you saw me, rather than Nate, walk up on stage. And to add injury to insult, even though Nate paid me a compliment when he was up here, what you didn't see was that as he walked by me, he said, I lied, Doug. Is there any wonder I struggle with confidence and self-esteem issues? Today, however, perhaps because I've matured and become more confident, but more likely because I just see the futility of it all, I'm not doing that. No dog and pony show for you. Not today. We're going to dive right in. And I'll start by reading our passage for this morning. It's 1 Peter 2, verses 4-10 are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says, see, I lay a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you leave church on any given Sunday morning. If you ever took a sermon prep class at the local seminary or bought sermons for dummies at Amazon, I suspect both would implore the aspiring preacher to have an application in mind. Well, with today's passage, I don't have an application, and I'm not going to try to directly influence what you do when you leave here, but rather, perhaps, what you think. How we think about and understand things to a great extent determines what we do and how we behave. This dynamic is affirmed throughout all of Scripture. Yet when Jesus asks, who do you think I am? If an honest answer is that he is the resurrected Son of God and Lord and Savior, then your life is going to look very different from someone who doesn't share that view. Or, from a slightly different angle, if you'd like to be a more humble person, then unless you heed the Apostle Paul's warning not to think more highly of yourself than you ought, good luck, because it's going to be a struggle for you. Simply put, our actions flow from how we think and what we believe. Sometimes it's good not to do anything or take any action steps, but just to marinate in our thoughts. And what Peter wants us to think about in a word is identity. How should we think of ourselves? Who and what do we identify as and with? Who is our tribe? What is our truth? It's a very trendy and timely question in our present culture to ask how we identify. Who are we, really? Although it may be particularly trendy in today's culture, it's not a new question, but an ancient one. How we identify, who are we, and to whom do we ultimately belong, has always been the central question in Scripture ever since God first established his covenant with the Israelites and Moses at Sinai. And for the Christian believer today, there is still no more paramount a question. Now, for a long time, I found today's passage to be one of the many in the Bible that I kind of get, but I kind of don't. The importance, significance doesn't really fully sink in. Yeah, yeah, I'm a living stone. A royal priest? Sure. Part of a holy nation? You bet. Got it. But that's been changing over the last 20 years or so. My grasp of what Peter is asserting about my identity, who I truly am, has evolved and is still evolving, which is a good thing. And I owe this movement primarily to two very different but exceedingly impactful experiences in my life. Before sharing the first of those two key experiences, a few minutes of background are in order. I was the only boy with three sisters growing up outside of Chicago. My older sister Lynn fell in love and married Andrew one year out of high school. She was 18 and he 19. Now it turns out that Andrew's parents had been missionaries in Africa in a Portuguese colony called Angola. And that's where he was raised until the age of 12. As was the case with a number of African colonies at that time. violent insurgencies were spreading, and Angola was no exception. When independence finally came in 1975, Angola plunged for the next 27 years into civil war, the longest in all of Africa. The government became communist, aided by the Soviets and some 50,000 Cuban troops. Our CIA and South African defense forces supported the anti-communist rebels and, as is always the case, it was the people of Angola who suffered. Already a poor and underdeveloped country, Angola effectively went completely dark. No communication, no news, no way of knowing if any of the people Andrew and his family had ever lived with, worked with, played with, worshipped with, or even still alive. Then in the mid-1990s, after two decades of war, little snippets of news began to leak out of the country. During a temporary ceasefire, Andrew and his father were able to return in the hope of possibly reconnecting with old friends. What they found was that while many had somehow managed to survive, no family had escaped the carnage untouched by tragedy. What little infrastructure there had been was no more. Formal education for most of the nation's children had ceased. The mission station where Andrew had grown up was destroyed. Living for the average person, always difficult in Angola, had become a very tenuous affair. The next year, my sister, who had never been out of the United States, joined her husband in returning to Angola to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect there were some really, really, really good hotel deals. Shortly after that visit, violence erupted again, and the country fell back into darkness. Back home safely in the U.S., my sister and brother-in-law watched on CNN what was going on in the Balkans and guessed that the same type of refugee crisis, people and families fleeing the conflict zone to save themselves, just what's like happening now in the Ukraine, must surely be happening along Angola's borders as well. So with little fanfare, they flew to Windhoek, Namibia, to look for some refugees to help. Upon arriving, they were told that their plan was incredibly naive and dangerous. However, they did learn of several large refugee camps established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in the remote bush on the border, Angolan border, near both Namibia and Zambia. And this is where they began taking their four kids and small teams of like-minded people for the next several years. In 2002, I joined them for the first time in visiting Nangweshi Refuge Camp in western Zambia. And just as an editorial note, regardless what you think of the United Nations, what they do in the most forlorn and dangerous places on earth, in the most desperate of times for tens and tens and tens of thousands of refugees who, through no fault of their own, are barely clinging to survival. It's magnificent. It's just magnificent. We spent quite a bit of time that trip in the new arrivals area, where, after days, weeks, months, and even years, Angolan refugees would emerge cold, sick, hungry, naked, and afraid. My brother-in-law used to say that if our Messiah walks anywhere in Nangweshi, he most certainly walks among the new arrivals. Later that same year, a lasting peace accord was signed. So instead of going back to the refugee camps, it was decided that a small team would go into Angola, Tukwitu, the provincial capital in the central highlands, and then proceed further up into the countryside to the old mission station where Andrew had been raised. Our hope was to build a schoolhouse. Flying into Kuitu, our pilot, out of habit and an abundance of caution, came in very high doing corkscrew turns to make a more difficult target for enemy fire. When we landed, I modestly and politely dashed off the runway into some tall grass to relieve myself. When I came back, I saw the pilot going to the bathroom right next to the plane. And I asked him, what's up with that? And he said the airport was mined and that one should never leave the runway. Little heads up would have been helpful. Having never been in a war zone, Quito was just like you see on the news. Collapsed buildings, bullet holes everywhere. It was thought at the time to have more landmines than any other city in the world. Some of you older folk and any Anglophiles might even remember Princess Diana doing a famous photo shoot in Kuitu in 1997 to bring attention to her anti-landmine campaign. Our final destination was the old destroyed mission station at Jolanda. And it was here, by far the most remote and primitive place I'd ever been in my life. No running water or plumbing of any kind, no electricity, no phones, that the first experience that so influenced my understanding of 1 Peter 2 took place. Now, Chelonda's not a town or village as we know them. No stores, no services, no nothing. Just some small mud and thatch huts spread over a wide area. There was, however, a tiny wooden chapel where several of the villagers would meet every morning at six to start their day. Several times, I got up and walked the three-quarter of a mile to that chapel, sitting down in the dim early morning light with about a half dozen villagers, both men and women. It was all very informal, a reading or two from scripture, a few hymns, a time of prayer. Everything sung, spoken, or read, either in Portuguese or Mbundu. Now, when our three kids were very young, Debbie and my three kids, we used to play a game in which they would try to pick out what was odd or out of place in a particular picture. They wouldn't have found this scene very challenging. Sitting among those villagers who had all just come through almost four decades of armed conflict and upheaval, I might as well have been from Mars. The contrast so stark. Subsistence farmers who, like all but the most privileged Angolans, had been born into suffering and struggle, had lived their entire lives in suffering and struggle, and would die in suffering and struggle. It was truly a where's Waldo on steroids. My looks, my entire life experience, my language, my priorities, my expectations, my dreams couldn't have been more different even if I literally had been from Mars. Yet, as strange as that may seem, those mornings were an unbelievable blessing to me, spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. How could that possibly be? Hold that question in your minds for just a few moments. The second key experience in my life that has so helped shape my grasp of today's passage is far removed from my time in Angola, but no less impactful. Years ago, I was asked if I could come up with a curriculum which would provide a framework a framework for understanding god's entire story is revealed in the bible all of redemptive history from genesis to revelation despite being uniquely unqualified to do so i said yes from that exercise and from the five times I subsequently facilitated that class, my eyes were open to all sorts of things about God and his word. One of the most enduring lessons I learned was that God chose to reveal his purposes and his plans slowly and incrementally over a long period of time. In other words, he just didn't blurt out what he intended to do and leave it at that. If he had, the Bible would be a lot shorter, perhaps just a pamphlet. But it would also be completely incomprehensible. Instead, in his wisdom, God first unveils his plans in ways both the original audience and subsequent readers might be able to understand and get their arms around a little bit. Then over time, the same themes and ideas are developed further, expanding in scope and complexity until they reach their ultimate fulfillment, which typically is something we never, ever could have envisioned at the outset. Thankfully, almost every aspect of God's redemptive plan is introduced and developed this way in Scripture, including a key element of the plan that Peter highlights, God's house, the place where he dwells with his people. We're first introduced to this concept of God's dwelling place shortly after he rescued his people out of slavery in Egypt. God established a covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai in which he promises to be their God and to dwell with them as long as they agree to place their faith and trust in him. The Israelites were to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation set apart simple tent set up outside the Israelite camp where the Lord would meet with Moses. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all of the Israelites would stand and watch. As Moses entered the tent, the presence of God would descend in a pillar of cloud and fill that little tent with his glory. While still camped at Sinai, the Lord commanded his people to build a larger and more elaborate tent, the tabernacle, to serve as a sanctuary. Throughout all their time in the desert, the Lord's presence was over that tabernacle in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Spectacular. Absolutely. It must have been amazing to witness. But nothing in comparison to what God ultimately had in store. Once in the promised land, Israel's greatest king, David, wanted to build a permanent house, a temple for the Lord. But he was told that such a house wasn't his to build. Rather, a son of his would be the one to build such a house. And that promise was literally fulfilled when David's son Solomon completed the first temple and then over the course of 14 days dedicated it to the Lord by sacrificing 22,000 cattle and 120,000 sheep and goats. Quite the ceremony. But even at this relatively early stage in the biblical story, God is already encouraging us to lift up our gaze, our line of sight from the physical and the here and now to a time much farther into the future. This point is hammered home when Israel, because of its inability to keep the covenant, is conquered by the Babylonians, Solomon's great temple is destroyed, and the people exiled to foreign lands. Later efforts to rebuild the temple are never able to recapture its former glory. All during this time, though, a steady drumbeat of Old Testament prophecies tell of another king who is coming, an even greater son of David whose kingdom and throne will endure forever. And it is this king who will build God's true and everlasting house. The prophet Isaiah speaks of God laying a precious cornerstone and that whoever trusts in it, in that cornerstone, will never be ashamed. Although introduced and developed in a way the Israelites and the rest of us could understand, a tent, a tabernacle, a great temple made of stone, the place where God ultimately planned to dwell with his people could never be contained within a building built by man, no matter how extravagant. What God had in mind was always going to be far, far grander in scope and scale and significance. When Jesus came in the flesh to dwell, to tabernacle with us on earth, it became clear that he was God's precious cornerstone. He was the new and better temple of God, a magnificent, vibrant, growing spiritual house built with living stones, those of us who have placed their faith, hope, and trust in Jesus' name. Now that's something. That's a big deal. We as believers are nothing less than living, breathing stones who are together being built into a magnificent house, a holy temple in which God lives by His Spirit. Let's take a moment to look around. I'm serious. Take a moment to look at the people on either side of you. Do it! In front of you and behind you. Please don't frustrate me. You are looking at living stones. God's royal priests. Members of a holy nation. I know, I know, it's a little rough, a little ragged in spots. Depending on who you're sitting near, it might at first blush, be a bit hard to fathom. But Peter has no qualms about asserting our true identities as that is who believers truly are in Christ. And those are more than just a bunch of fancy words and spiritual-sounding titles. For the same resurrection life that Christ experienced animates us now. We are truly living stones. And we are royal priests not simply because we now have direct and privileged access to God, but also because we offer our lives, both in word and deed, as acceptable and pleasing sacrifices to him. And as God's people, it is our high calling to represent his kingdom on earth, to be a people who make known what God has done. Not only does this have great implications for how we view ourselves, but it also has great implications for how we view the church. For if we are living stones being built together into God's great spiritual house, then our significance, activity, and purpose as individual believers cannot be realized apart from other believers. After all, one needs a bunch of living stones to build a spiritual house. In a very real sense, we belong to one another. And not only do we belong to and depend upon believers today, as in this faith community we call grace, for example, but we are also being built together and united with the living stones of all previous generations. And just as future generations of believers will be united and built together with us. Circling back to those early mornings I spent in that dimly lit little chapel in the middle of nowhere in the central highlands of rural Angola, I shared earlier that as strange as it may have seemed, those mornings were a great blessing. But it no longer seems so strange to me. What I now realize is there was a reason why those mornings were so spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. For they were among the few times in my life, maybe the only times, that all the things that I normally associate with who I am, all the things that I typically assume make up my identity, had been removed. Like varnish stripping away all the many layers of paint. All that remained was my true and eternal identity. And I was privileged to be sharing a few sacred moments with people who weren't different than me at all, but who at their core and their fundamental essence were just like me. Living stones, royal priests, people who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, redeemed out of darkness and into his wonderful light. And for a moment, at least, I knew what Peter was talking about. So before I dismiss this this morning, I'd like to close by reading a passage from Psalm 118, verses 22 through 23. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Let's think about that as we leave this morning. Amen.
Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. I'm asked to speak a couple of times a year on average, and I typically begin with an icebreaker or some attempt at humor. Not too long ago, I began by singing a children's Bible song about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. Another time, I began with a balloon trick. I do this all in the hope that even if just for a moment, you all might forget that intense feeling of disappointment when you saw me, rather than Nate, walk up on stage. And to add injury to insult, even though Nate paid me a compliment when he was up here, what you didn't see was that as he walked by me, he said, I lied, Doug. Is there any wonder I struggle with confidence and self-esteem issues? Today, however, perhaps because I've matured and become more confident, but more likely because I just see the futility of it all, I'm not doing that. No dog and pony show for you. Not today. We're going to dive right in. And I'll start by reading our passage for this morning. It's 1 Peter 2, verses 4-10 are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says, see, I lay a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you leave church on any given Sunday morning. If you ever took a sermon prep class at the local seminary or bought sermons for dummies at Amazon, I suspect both would implore the aspiring preacher to have an application in mind. Well, with today's passage, I don't have an application, and I'm not going to try to directly influence what you do when you leave here, but rather, perhaps, what you think. How we think about and understand things to a great extent determines what we do and how we behave. This dynamic is affirmed throughout all of Scripture. Yet when Jesus asks, who do you think I am? If an honest answer is that he is the resurrected Son of God and Lord and Savior, then your life is going to look very different from someone who doesn't share that view. Or, from a slightly different angle, if you'd like to be a more humble person, then unless you heed the Apostle Paul's warning not to think more highly of yourself than you ought, good luck, because it's going to be a struggle for you. Simply put, our actions flow from how we think and what we believe. Sometimes it's good not to do anything or take any action steps, but just to marinate in our thoughts. And what Peter wants us to think about in a word is identity. How should we think of ourselves? Who and what do we identify as and with? Who is our tribe? What is our truth? It's a very trendy and timely question in our present culture to ask how we identify. Who are we, really? Although it may be particularly trendy in today's culture, it's not a new question, but an ancient one. How we identify, who are we, and to whom do we ultimately belong, has always been the central question in Scripture ever since God first established his covenant with the Israelites and Moses at Sinai. And for the Christian believer today, there is still no more paramount a question. Now, for a long time, I found today's passage to be one of the many in the Bible that I kind of get, but I kind of don't. The importance, significance doesn't really fully sink in. Yeah, yeah, I'm a living stone. A royal priest? Sure. Part of a holy nation? You bet. Got it. But that's been changing over the last 20 years or so. My grasp of what Peter is asserting about my identity, who I truly am, has evolved and is still evolving, which is a good thing. And I owe this movement primarily to two very different but exceedingly impactful experiences in my life. Before sharing the first of those two key experiences, a few minutes of background are in order. I was the only boy with three sisters growing up outside of Chicago. My older sister Lynn fell in love and married Andrew one year out of high school. She was 18 and he 19. Now it turns out that Andrew's parents had been missionaries in Africa in a Portuguese colony called Angola. And that's where he was raised until the age of 12. As was the case with a number of African colonies at that time. violent insurgencies were spreading, and Angola was no exception. When independence finally came in 1975, Angola plunged for the next 27 years into civil war, the longest in all of Africa. The government became communist, aided by the Soviets and some 50,000 Cuban troops. Our CIA and South African defense forces supported the anti-communist rebels and, as is always the case, it was the people of Angola who suffered. Already a poor and underdeveloped country, Angola effectively went completely dark. No communication, no news, no way of knowing if any of the people Andrew and his family had ever lived with, worked with, played with, worshipped with, or even still alive. Then in the mid-1990s, after two decades of war, little snippets of news began to leak out of the country. During a temporary ceasefire, Andrew and his father were able to return in the hope of possibly reconnecting with old friends. What they found was that while many had somehow managed to survive, no family had escaped the carnage untouched by tragedy. What little infrastructure there had been was no more. Formal education for most of the nation's children had ceased. The mission station where Andrew had grown up was destroyed. Living for the average person, always difficult in Angola, had become a very tenuous affair. The next year, my sister, who had never been out of the United States, joined her husband in returning to Angola to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect there were some really, really, really good hotel deals. Shortly after that visit, violence erupted again, and the country fell back into darkness. Back home safely in the U.S., my sister and brother-in-law watched on CNN what was going on in the Balkans and guessed that the same type of refugee crisis, people and families fleeing the conflict zone to save themselves, just what's like happening now in the Ukraine, must surely be happening along Angola's borders as well. So with little fanfare, they flew to Windhoek, Namibia, to look for some refugees to help. Upon arriving, they were told that their plan was incredibly naive and dangerous. However, they did learn of several large refugee camps established by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in the remote bush on the border, Angolan border, near both Namibia and Zambia. And this is where they began taking their four kids and small teams of like-minded people for the next several years. In 2002, I joined them for the first time in visiting Nangweshi Refuge Camp in western Zambia. And just as an editorial note, regardless what you think of the United Nations, what they do in the most forlorn and dangerous places on earth, in the most desperate of times for tens and tens and tens of thousands of refugees who, through no fault of their own, are barely clinging to survival. It's magnificent. It's just magnificent. We spent quite a bit of time that trip in the new arrivals area, where, after days, weeks, months, and even years, Angolan refugees would emerge cold, sick, hungry, naked, and afraid. My brother-in-law used to say that if our Messiah walks anywhere in Nangweshi, he most certainly walks among the new arrivals. Later that same year, a lasting peace accord was signed. So instead of going back to the refugee camps, it was decided that a small team would go into Angola, Tukwitu, the provincial capital in the central highlands, and then proceed further up into the countryside to the old mission station where Andrew had been raised. Our hope was to build a schoolhouse. Flying into Kuitu, our pilot, out of habit and an abundance of caution, came in very high doing corkscrew turns to make a more difficult target for enemy fire. When we landed, I modestly and politely dashed off the runway into some tall grass to relieve myself. When I came back, I saw the pilot going to the bathroom right next to the plane. And I asked him, what's up with that? And he said the airport was mined and that one should never leave the runway. Little heads up would have been helpful. Having never been in a war zone, Quito was just like you see on the news. Collapsed buildings, bullet holes everywhere. It was thought at the time to have more landmines than any other city in the world. Some of you older folk and any Anglophiles might even remember Princess Diana doing a famous photo shoot in Kuitu in 1997 to bring attention to her anti-landmine campaign. Our final destination was the old destroyed mission station at Jolanda. And it was here, by far the most remote and primitive place I'd ever been in my life. No running water or plumbing of any kind, no electricity, no phones, that the first experience that so influenced my understanding of 1 Peter 2 took place. Now, Chelonda's not a town or village as we know them. No stores, no services, no nothing. Just some small mud and thatch huts spread over a wide area. There was, however, a tiny wooden chapel where several of the villagers would meet every morning at six to start their day. Several times, I got up and walked the three-quarter of a mile to that chapel, sitting down in the dim early morning light with about a half dozen villagers, both men and women. It was all very informal, a reading or two from scripture, a few hymns, a time of prayer. Everything sung, spoken, or read, either in Portuguese or Mbundu. Now, when our three kids were very young, Debbie and my three kids, we used to play a game in which they would try to pick out what was odd or out of place in a particular picture. They wouldn't have found this scene very challenging. Sitting among those villagers who had all just come through almost four decades of armed conflict and upheaval, I might as well have been from Mars. The contrast so stark. Subsistence farmers who, like all but the most privileged Angolans, had been born into suffering and struggle, had lived their entire lives in suffering and struggle, and would die in suffering and struggle. It was truly a where's Waldo on steroids. My looks, my entire life experience, my language, my priorities, my expectations, my dreams couldn't have been more different even if I literally had been from Mars. Yet, as strange as that may seem, those mornings were an unbelievable blessing to me, spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. How could that possibly be? Hold that question in your minds for just a few moments. The second key experience in my life that has so helped shape my grasp of today's passage is far removed from my time in Angola, but no less impactful. Years ago, I was asked if I could come up with a curriculum which would provide a framework a framework for understanding god's entire story is revealed in the bible all of redemptive history from genesis to revelation despite being uniquely unqualified to do so i said yes from that exercise and from the five times I subsequently facilitated that class, my eyes were open to all sorts of things about God and his word. One of the most enduring lessons I learned was that God chose to reveal his purposes and his plans slowly and incrementally over a long period of time. In other words, he just didn't blurt out what he intended to do and leave it at that. If he had, the Bible would be a lot shorter, perhaps just a pamphlet. But it would also be completely incomprehensible. Instead, in his wisdom, God first unveils his plans in ways both the original audience and subsequent readers might be able to understand and get their arms around a little bit. Then over time, the same themes and ideas are developed further, expanding in scope and complexity until they reach their ultimate fulfillment, which typically is something we never, ever could have envisioned at the outset. Thankfully, almost every aspect of God's redemptive plan is introduced and developed this way in Scripture, including a key element of the plan that Peter highlights, God's house, the place where he dwells with his people. We're first introduced to this concept of God's dwelling place shortly after he rescued his people out of slavery in Egypt. God established a covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai in which he promises to be their God and to dwell with them as long as they agree to place their faith and trust in him. The Israelites were to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation set apart simple tent set up outside the Israelite camp where the Lord would meet with Moses. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all of the Israelites would stand and watch. As Moses entered the tent, the presence of God would descend in a pillar of cloud and fill that little tent with his glory. While still camped at Sinai, the Lord commanded his people to build a larger and more elaborate tent, the tabernacle, to serve as a sanctuary. Throughout all their time in the desert, the Lord's presence was over that tabernacle in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Spectacular. Absolutely. It must have been amazing to witness. But nothing in comparison to what God ultimately had in store. Once in the promised land, Israel's greatest king, David, wanted to build a permanent house, a temple for the Lord. But he was told that such a house wasn't his to build. Rather, a son of his would be the one to build such a house. And that promise was literally fulfilled when David's son Solomon completed the first temple and then over the course of 14 days dedicated it to the Lord by sacrificing 22,000 cattle and 120,000 sheep and goats. Quite the ceremony. But even at this relatively early stage in the biblical story, God is already encouraging us to lift up our gaze, our line of sight from the physical and the here and now to a time much farther into the future. This point is hammered home when Israel, because of its inability to keep the covenant, is conquered by the Babylonians, Solomon's great temple is destroyed, and the people exiled to foreign lands. Later efforts to rebuild the temple are never able to recapture its former glory. All during this time, though, a steady drumbeat of Old Testament prophecies tell of another king who is coming, an even greater son of David whose kingdom and throne will endure forever. And it is this king who will build God's true and everlasting house. The prophet Isaiah speaks of God laying a precious cornerstone and that whoever trusts in it, in that cornerstone, will never be ashamed. Although introduced and developed in a way the Israelites and the rest of us could understand, a tent, a tabernacle, a great temple made of stone, the place where God ultimately planned to dwell with his people could never be contained within a building built by man, no matter how extravagant. What God had in mind was always going to be far, far grander in scope and scale and significance. When Jesus came in the flesh to dwell, to tabernacle with us on earth, it became clear that he was God's precious cornerstone. He was the new and better temple of God, a magnificent, vibrant, growing spiritual house built with living stones, those of us who have placed their faith, hope, and trust in Jesus' name. Now that's something. That's a big deal. We as believers are nothing less than living, breathing stones who are together being built into a magnificent house, a holy temple in which God lives by His Spirit. Let's take a moment to look around. I'm serious. Take a moment to look at the people on either side of you. Do it! In front of you and behind you. Please don't frustrate me. You are looking at living stones. God's royal priests. Members of a holy nation. I know, I know, it's a little rough, a little ragged in spots. Depending on who you're sitting near, it might at first blush, be a bit hard to fathom. But Peter has no qualms about asserting our true identities as that is who believers truly are in Christ. And those are more than just a bunch of fancy words and spiritual-sounding titles. For the same resurrection life that Christ experienced animates us now. We are truly living stones. And we are royal priests not simply because we now have direct and privileged access to God, but also because we offer our lives, both in word and deed, as acceptable and pleasing sacrifices to him. And as God's people, it is our high calling to represent his kingdom on earth, to be a people who make known what God has done. Not only does this have great implications for how we view ourselves, but it also has great implications for how we view the church. For if we are living stones being built together into God's great spiritual house, then our significance, activity, and purpose as individual believers cannot be realized apart from other believers. After all, one needs a bunch of living stones to build a spiritual house. In a very real sense, we belong to one another. And not only do we belong to and depend upon believers today, as in this faith community we call grace, for example, but we are also being built together and united with the living stones of all previous generations. And just as future generations of believers will be united and built together with us. Circling back to those early mornings I spent in that dimly lit little chapel in the middle of nowhere in the central highlands of rural Angola, I shared earlier that as strange as it may have seemed, those mornings were a great blessing. But it no longer seems so strange to me. What I now realize is there was a reason why those mornings were so spiritually and relationally rich and abundant. For they were among the few times in my life, maybe the only times, that all the things that I normally associate with who I am, all the things that I typically assume make up my identity, had been removed. Like varnish stripping away all the many layers of paint. All that remained was my true and eternal identity. And I was privileged to be sharing a few sacred moments with people who weren't different than me at all, but who at their core and their fundamental essence were just like me. Living stones, royal priests, people who once were not a people, but now are the people of God, redeemed out of darkness and into his wonderful light. And for a moment, at least, I knew what Peter was talking about. So before I dismiss this this morning, I'd like to close by reading a passage from Psalm 118, verses 22 through 23. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. Let's think about that as we leave this morning. Amen.
Yo, it's not September yet. What are you all doing here? We're supposed to have more space than this in the middle of August. It's good to see everybody. Thank you so much for coming. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten to meet you, I would love to do that in the lobby after the service, only because now is inconvenient. But just a couple of things behind the scenes I feel like I need to tell you. Rob, our bass player, walked by me and he said, go get him, pal. And I said, well, that's very nice. And then I was setting up up here and our worship leader, Aaron, tapped me on the shoulder, which is not typical. Normally he doesn't speak to me because my mental fragility is such that I can't handle it before a sermon. But he tapped me on the shoulder and I leaned back and he said, hey, just do good. And I, thanks buddy. Thanks for that. So we will do our best. This morning we are continuing in our series on the life of Moses. Last week, I kind of paused in the narrative because it had brought us to this place where the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai, and I felt like it was really important for us to also pause. There's this word in Psalms that we learn, this Hebrew word called shalom, and shalom just means kind of a holy pause. And I felt like it was important last week to just kind of take a shalom and pause on this part of the narrative that causes us to fear God, which is a good thing. And we focus on the fear of the Lord as the beginning of wisdom. But the reason that the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai was to give the law to his people. So what happens is the presence of God, and this is in Exodus chapter 19, and I'll just tell you this up front, okay? I want you to understand this, and I want to acknowledge this for you. I'm not going to read verses this week. This is, I hate to say this, this is just here for show this week. I'm not going to open it and read to you, all right? And I feel badly about that. But I'm resting in the fact that what I'm talking to you about is in Exodus 19. And I'm resting in the fact that I'm going to refer to passages in Romans and Galatians and Acts and John and Matthew so that we are. This is going to be a biblical sermon, but I just, there was nothing that I found in my preparation that zeroed in on what I wanted to say enough that I felt like it was worth sharing. So we will be in scripture this week, but I'm not going to open it. And I know that I'm not doing that, but hopefully we'll get to the end of the sermon and you'll think, yeah, that counts as a sermon. That's the goal. But this week it's Exodus 19. And in Exodus 19, we get the law. And when I say the law, we often think of the Ten Commandments. And if you're to open your Bible and read it, I think a lot of us understand what was happening when Moses received the Ten Commandments. But we tend to think, I believe, that Moses got these two tablets of stone and God etched onto them the Ten Commandments and he walked down the mountain with those tablets of stone with the Ten Commandments on them. And that is true. But what we might not pick up from the story, at least I didn't for decades of being a believer, is that all the other laws were etched on those tablets too. There's 630 something laws in Old Testament law, in the Old Testament for the Hebrew person. And so when God gave the law, it wasn't just 10 commandments. It was 10 commandments and the other 6 hundred and twenty. OK, that's what was on the tablets. And so when Moses comes back down the mountain, he has the law in his hands and he's sharing it with the Hebrew people. And here's what I think is really interesting about this point in history. And I'm going to take some liberties here. But I wonder, why did God give the law to his people at this time? And I don't know if you've ever thought about that. But let me kind of help you with that process. When God created Adam and Eve, he made one law. He said, do whatever you want. Don't eat from the fruit of that tree. That's the only rule. Do whatever you want. Go nuts. Do whatever you want. Don't eat of the fruit of that tree. That was it. That was the only law. And then they broke it because they wanted to be like God. They forgot to fear the Lord. God could have at that point said, okay, you screwed up. Now there's sin. Now the fall has happened. Let me give you the rules. Let me tell you what you need to do to be right with me. You messed up. Let me give you the rules. He didn't do that. Have you ever noticed that? He didn't do that. He just said, now you're going to have to work for your food. Life's going to be a little bit more difficult. Things between you and I will never be the same. But he didn't give him the rules. Then, a little while later, he hit reset on the entire earth by flooding it. And he allowed Noah and Ham, Shem and Japheth and their wives to be the new Adam and Eve that repopulated the earth. And the reason that he did it is because he looked across the earth and he said, this is evil and no one follows me. And I'm, I'm, I'm saddened that I've created this. And so he hit the reset button. When he hit the reset button, did he then give Noah the rules? No. He could have. He didn't. He could have said, listen, I gave you guys a chance. You messed it up. So moving forward, here are the rules for following me. He didn't do that. Then there was the Tower of Babel. After he dispersed the nations and gave them different languages, could he have also given them the rules? Yes, he could have. Did he? No. Then, a while later, I know that this is hard for you guys because you haven't thought about this before, but I've thought about this for years. Then a while later, he calls Abraham from the land of Ur of the Chaldeans, the Sumerian dynasty. And he says, hey, Abraham, I know this is going to sound weird. I want you to pick up everything that you own and I want you to move and I'm going to show you where you're going to move as you get there. It would be like you selling your house, packing a U-Haul, and just driving in the general direction of Utah, trusting God to show you where to go. That's what he did for Abraham. And when he did that, and when in Genesis 12, he made his promises to Abraham, I'm going to bless you with people and with blessing, and one of your descendants is going to bless the whole earth. And your descendants will be like the stars in the sky. This is God we know now in retrospect, founding the nation of Israel. It's the very foundation of this people that God has chosen to love and center out amongst all of humankind. He starts it with Abraham. And he could have, at that point, said, by the way, Abraham, here are the rules. But he didn't. He could have said with his son Isaac, here are the rules. He could have said with his grandson Jacob, who was then later named Israel, by the way, as the father of this nation, I am founding on your faith. Here are the rules. And he never did it. He never did it. He waited for some reason until Moses was leading his people through the desert to finally give them the rules. So I think it's a really interesting question to wonder, God, why did you wait that long? Why now? Why here? And all I can say about that is this. In the past, I have paused a sermon and I've moved over here. And I've said, some of you will remember, Jeffy does, I heard him laugh. Some of you will remember, this is my reckless speculation box. When I'm here, I'm speaking to you from what I believe to be the authority of Scripture. And I would I would tell you candidly, it's my best understanding of what Scripture is. It's not the authority of Nate or the authority of God. It's just when I read it, this is how I understand it. And I'm sharing that with you. OK, but when I step over here. I'm reckless, man. They're like, this is just what I think. This is just what I suppose. This is not here. Here, I feel like I have some authority. Here, I'm just being an honest adult with you and saying this is what I think, but I can't back this up with paperwork. Do we understand the difference? Here, when I answer the question, why does God wait so long to give the law? What I actually believe in my core is that he gave it begrudgingly. I do not think he wanted to. And I think we have an example of this when he gives Moses divorce laws. And he says, I don't really want to give you divorce laws because I don't want this to be a part of your life. But practically speaking, I see the necessity of it. So here are some ramifications and some parameters for that practice. I believe that God gave the law begrudgingly. And here's why I believe this. And this is where I'll step back here. Because I do think that there's some scriptural authority for this. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him and obey him. Why didn't he give Adam the law? Because he didn't want to. Because all he asked of Adam is just obey me. Just trust me. Just let me be the creator and you be the creation. Just obey me. Just trust me. Why didn't he give Noah the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Scholars believe Job predates Noah and all the others as well. Why didn't he give Job the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Why didn't he give it to Moses? Why didn't he give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob? Because I believe with all my heart that all God has ever wanted from us is to just trust him and obey him. But for some reason, the Hebrew people found that to be difficult. And for some reason, we found it to be difficult. And two separate times, God allowed the human experiment to exist with this impetus of trusting and obeying him. And it ended in the flood and it ended in the Tower of Babel. And then it came to his Hebrew people and he said, in my opinion, fine, here. Here's the law. And the law says, you want a path to my approval? Here it is. That's what the law says. When Moses comes down the mountain in Exodus 19 and he's got the tablets there, what God is saying is, do you want a path to salvation? To heaven? To eternity? To right standing before me? Is that what you want? Here. This is it. Follow the law. Go ahead. You want to know what the rules are? Here are the rules. And he gives them 630 rules. This is the path to be right with me. I've asked you over and over and over again, and here's what's so important, I think, for us. We feel this pull in our own lives, right? Just trust me. Just obey me. You don't have to all the way understand me. Just trust. We feel that pull, right? But God says, okay, you want law. This is the path. I've asked you to trust me. You've decided not to do that. You need to know the rules. Here are the rules. Here's the thing about the rules. And here's the thing about the law. And this is why I would be honest with you and tell you that this morning's sermon was really difficult to write because I've often said that the most difficult thing in preparing a sermon is deciding what not to say. And this morning, there's so much to say about the law and its import and how much it matters across the span of Scripture. I do not think you can overstate the importance of the law and its impact on the rest of faith and on what it was to be a New Testament Christian and even on how we understand our faith. If you want to be a Christian at all, with any knowledge of the Bible, with any knowledge of how your faith works, you've got to understand the importance of the law. I actually think it works this way. This is going to sound ludicrous. I believe in my email to the staff when I sent them my notes. I said, these seem unhinged, but just go with me. And even as I ran through them this morning, Zach, who's doing our slides, said, you're going to have to explain this one a little bit. And I said, yeah, I know. Okay, but here you go. The law equals Luke Skywalker's genealogy. Deal with it. I'm not even going to explain that. I'm just going to go on to the next point. No, here's the thing, and I've thought this a long time, and this is probably an outdated analogy, but I hope that it can hold up. I grew up, I was born in 1981. That makes some of you feel very young and others feel very old. I don't care. I was born in 1981. I was actually talking to a friend of mine this week. This is Jermaine to nothing, but I was talking to a friend of mine this week that I worked for when I was 19 and I think he was 22 and we were doing the same ministry together. And we both kind of had this realization at the same time, like we're the old dogs now, like we're both in our mid forties. We've been doing this for 25 years. We can't, we're not, we're not young anymore, which means frankly, I should be better at this than I am, but you know, here we are. I've thought for a long time, when I was growing up, Luke Skywalker and Star Wars hit me just in the exact right spot. He was a hero growing up. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia, they shaped my childhood. And if you don't know who they are and you don't understand this, I'm sorry for you. Do some work because it's worth it. In Star Wars, there's three movies. There's the first one, which is just called Star Wars. There's other movies that they've made since then with like J.J. Abrams. Who cares? Jar Jar Binks, get out of here. Nobody cares about those. Thank you, Jeff. The good ones. We're getting really close to an amen. I feel one coming. Maybe this service. Maybe so. That's right. I've never gotten an amen in the history of preaching at Grace, but if I denounce Jar Jar Binks and get one, that would be actually super funny. Sorry, I'm down the road really far on this Star Wars thing. There's three movies. It's Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and then Return of the Jedi, right? And at the end of Empire Strikes Back, at the very end of the movie, Luke Skywalker is like hanging off of this Death Star thing and he's having a confrontation with Darth Vader. And Darth Vader says the most famous line in movies, which is actually misquoted and not famous. We all quote it as, Luke, I am your father. That is not the line. The line is, no, I am your father. And if you have not watched Star Wars and the first two and a half hours of The Empire Strikes Back, when Darth Vader says, no, I am your father, it doesn't mean anything to you. But if you have, it means everything. And so I've often thought that trying to understand our faith by beginning in the New Testament and not understanding the Old Testament and the law is like trying to appreciate the impact of the greatest line in cinematic history without having watched the first two movies. Do you understand your Bible? The first two thirds of it are the Old Testament. When we start in the New Testament and our understanding of faith, we cheapen and shortchange our ability to understand that faith. And that an understanding of the import of the law is fundamental to it. Do you understand that the book of Galatians, the whole book, is about how to reconcile the law? And that if you don't understand what the law is, you can't possibly understand the book of Galatians? Do you understand that literally half of the book of Acts is an exercise in the New Testament church trying to figure out how to wrestle the law to the ground and what to expect of the Gentile converts into their Jewish faith. Do you understand that you can't understand Romans oratory and revolutionary the ministry of Jesus was if you do not understand the law? And so this morning, as we arrive at Exodus 19, and I think about myself as your pastor, and I have a responsibility to make sure we understand the import of the law. Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts. Because it's a big deal. It's important in how we understand scripture. And here's the greatest trick of the law. This one's pretty good. And this is another one that you're going to be like, dude, what are you doing? But just hear me out. The law sees dead people. A lot of you, I know, like to fill out your notes before I do the blanks. And I've decided a long time ago, I don't care. I'm not going to try to trick you. I'm not really thinking about that. I don't think anybody had this. I think I got you on this one. The law sees dead people. In 1999, here's another. At least it's not the 80s. I moved 20 years forward. In 1999, there was this movie. Gosh, I forget the name of it now. I even looked it up this morning, so I wouldn't. What was it? Sixth Sense. Thank you. Guy I don't know on the first row helping me out on his very first visit. Thank you very much, buddy. That's great. Come back any time. Sixth Sense. It had Bruce Willis. And there was this kid who plays the main character. And Sixth Sense stands out, and we all know it. We know what it is. Because it's like the greatest switcheroo in cinematic history. It's really amazing that at the beginning of the movie, they tell you that Bruce Willis is dead. And you are watching it in real time and you're like, no, he's not. He seems to be talking. He's fine. And you don't process it. And then at the end of the movie, so they've done this whole movie. And the kid who I think is Haley Jo Osmond, I think that's who plays him, thank you, I knew Liz Roberg would know that, that's why I looked over there, says that iconic line, I see dead people. And you realize, the last two hours of my life, I've misunderstood what was going on. And you realize Bruce Willis really did die at the beginning of the movie. And he's been playing a ghost this whole time. And when you watch Sixth Sense, I'm sorry a little bit if this is a spoiler alert. It's also been 25 years, so you make your choices. But when you watch that movie fresh and you realize at the end what you've actually been watching for two hours, it's kind of this moment where you go, oh my goodness, I didn't understand that. And it kind of blows your mind a little bit. That's what the law is. Because when God gave the law to his people, it was, if you want to be right with me, here's what you have to do. If you want a path to heaven. Here's the path. And so we took it for millennia to be the path. And the Hebrew people organized a religion around it. Saying we're going to be the best followers of this law that has ever been. And we're going to help everyone. When you break the law, here's what you do to restore yourself. And then you return yourself to trying to follow the law. Here's what we do. And they built a whole faith around that premise. If you want to be right with me, here's how you be right with me. And then Jesus comes along and he does the greatest switcheroo in history. And he shows us that the law sees dead people. And Jesus comes along and he says this about the law. You've heard it said that a man should not commit adultery. But I say to you that if you have looked at a woman with lust in your heart, you are guilty of that sin. And let's be very clear about this. I'm not making a joke right now. That makes every man in this room an adulterer. Okay? That's the law. Yeah, have you passed the test of not having actual intercourse with another person's wife? Great. But let me redefine this in such a way that you really understand the heart of the law. If you've left it after someone else, you're guilty. Whoa. That's a different standard. Jesus said, you've heard it said that you shouldn't kill someone else. You shouldn't murder. But I say to you that if you have hate in your heart for a brother, you are guilty of that sin. Which makes a portion of this room murderers. And so he comes and he doesn't. And I want to be very clear about this. Jesus does not redefine the law. He simply correctly defines it. And he shows us in his definition our inability to follow it. And what we find in Jesus's discussion of the law is that the whole law, and we find this in Galatians and we find this in Romans and we find this in Acts and we find this in Corinthians. This is everywhere, replete throughout the New Testament, that the entire point of the law is to show you that you can't follow it. That's the whole point. You think it's to show you how to be right before God, and really the point of it is to show you your inadequacy before God and your need for that. That's the law. The law sees dead people. It's not here to make a pathway for you to get right with God. The law exists so that you will know that you are incapable of following that pathway and will claim your need for Jesus who came and lived a perfect life and followed that law perfectly for you and died a perfect death to make a bridge to a God that you would never have access to if he did not come and perfectly fulfill that law for you. That's the point of the law. Jesus fulfilled the law and earned God's approval for you. The point of the law, friends, is to remind us of our need for Jesus. The point of God's standards is to show us that we can't meet them. The point of the cross is to remind us of the necessity of it. So when we arrive at this text in Exodus chapter 19, and we see the law brought down the mountain by Moses. And we understand it as a momentous occasion in the history of the Hebrew people and even in our faith. And we see that law as God providing a pathway to approval from him. Please understand that it is momentous. It does echo throughout the millennia. It is incredibly important. But it's incredibly important because its intent has always been to show you that you can't keep it. Its intent has always been to show you your inadequacy and your reliance on the perfect life and death of Jesus. And that the entire point of the law throughout all of history is to orient your gaze towards the cross and not towards yourself and your ability to obey rules. It's to surrender before God and say, I am not capable of that. I need this. That's the whole point. So please, church, when we think about the law, let's see it for what it is. Let's appreciate its import. But let us always, always allow it to direct our gaze towards the necessity of the cross and grow our spirit of gratitude for it. Yes? Let's pray. Father, you're good to us. We are so very sorry for inadequately following you. We're sorry for the ways that we let ourselves down as we think we're letting you down. We're so grateful for the grace that you show us in those moments. God, I pray that we would see this momentous occasion in Exodus as one that echoes throughout the centuries, but as one that is intended to point us towards you and towards your grace and towards your goodness and towards your mercy and towards your sacrifice. May the law forever point us towards the cross. May the law forever make us grateful of our Savior. And may the law forever make us grateful of what you did to make a path to be with you. In Jesus' name, amen.
Yo, it's not September yet. What are you all doing here? We're supposed to have more space than this in the middle of August. It's good to see everybody. Thank you so much for coming. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten to meet you, I would love to do that in the lobby after the service, only because now is inconvenient. But just a couple of things behind the scenes I feel like I need to tell you. Rob, our bass player, walked by me and he said, go get him, pal. And I said, well, that's very nice. And then I was setting up up here and our worship leader, Aaron, tapped me on the shoulder, which is not typical. Normally he doesn't speak to me because my mental fragility is such that I can't handle it before a sermon. But he tapped me on the shoulder and I leaned back and he said, hey, just do good. And I, thanks buddy. Thanks for that. So we will do our best. This morning we are continuing in our series on the life of Moses. Last week, I kind of paused in the narrative because it had brought us to this place where the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai, and I felt like it was really important for us to also pause. There's this word in Psalms that we learn, this Hebrew word called shalom, and shalom just means kind of a holy pause. And I felt like it was important last week to just kind of take a shalom and pause on this part of the narrative that causes us to fear God, which is a good thing. And we focus on the fear of the Lord as the beginning of wisdom. But the reason that the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai was to give the law to his people. So what happens is the presence of God, and this is in Exodus chapter 19, and I'll just tell you this up front, okay? I want you to understand this, and I want to acknowledge this for you. I'm not going to read verses this week. This is, I hate to say this, this is just here for show this week. I'm not going to open it and read to you, all right? And I feel badly about that. But I'm resting in the fact that what I'm talking to you about is in Exodus 19. And I'm resting in the fact that I'm going to refer to passages in Romans and Galatians and Acts and John and Matthew so that we are. This is going to be a biblical sermon, but I just, there was nothing that I found in my preparation that zeroed in on what I wanted to say enough that I felt like it was worth sharing. So we will be in scripture this week, but I'm not going to open it. And I know that I'm not doing that, but hopefully we'll get to the end of the sermon and you'll think, yeah, that counts as a sermon. That's the goal. But this week it's Exodus 19. And in Exodus 19, we get the law. And when I say the law, we often think of the Ten Commandments. And if you're to open your Bible and read it, I think a lot of us understand what was happening when Moses received the Ten Commandments. But we tend to think, I believe, that Moses got these two tablets of stone and God etched onto them the Ten Commandments and he walked down the mountain with those tablets of stone with the Ten Commandments on them. And that is true. But what we might not pick up from the story, at least I didn't for decades of being a believer, is that all the other laws were etched on those tablets too. There's 630 something laws in Old Testament law, in the Old Testament for the Hebrew person. And so when God gave the law, it wasn't just 10 commandments. It was 10 commandments and the other 6 hundred and twenty. OK, that's what was on the tablets. And so when Moses comes back down the mountain, he has the law in his hands and he's sharing it with the Hebrew people. And here's what I think is really interesting about this point in history. And I'm going to take some liberties here. But I wonder, why did God give the law to his people at this time? And I don't know if you've ever thought about that. But let me kind of help you with that process. When God created Adam and Eve, he made one law. He said, do whatever you want. Don't eat from the fruit of that tree. That's the only rule. Do whatever you want. Go nuts. Do whatever you want. Don't eat of the fruit of that tree. That was it. That was the only law. And then they broke it because they wanted to be like God. They forgot to fear the Lord. God could have at that point said, okay, you screwed up. Now there's sin. Now the fall has happened. Let me give you the rules. Let me tell you what you need to do to be right with me. You messed up. Let me give you the rules. He didn't do that. Have you ever noticed that? He didn't do that. He just said, now you're going to have to work for your food. Life's going to be a little bit more difficult. Things between you and I will never be the same. But he didn't give him the rules. Then, a little while later, he hit reset on the entire earth by flooding it. And he allowed Noah and Ham, Shem and Japheth and their wives to be the new Adam and Eve that repopulated the earth. And the reason that he did it is because he looked across the earth and he said, this is evil and no one follows me. And I'm, I'm, I'm saddened that I've created this. And so he hit the reset button. When he hit the reset button, did he then give Noah the rules? No. He could have. He didn't. He could have said, listen, I gave you guys a chance. You messed it up. So moving forward, here are the rules for following me. He didn't do that. Then there was the Tower of Babel. After he dispersed the nations and gave them different languages, could he have also given them the rules? Yes, he could have. Did he? No. Then, a while later, I know that this is hard for you guys because you haven't thought about this before, but I've thought about this for years. Then a while later, he calls Abraham from the land of Ur of the Chaldeans, the Sumerian dynasty. And he says, hey, Abraham, I know this is going to sound weird. I want you to pick up everything that you own and I want you to move and I'm going to show you where you're going to move as you get there. It would be like you selling your house, packing a U-Haul, and just driving in the general direction of Utah, trusting God to show you where to go. That's what he did for Abraham. And when he did that, and when in Genesis 12, he made his promises to Abraham, I'm going to bless you with people and with blessing, and one of your descendants is going to bless the whole earth. And your descendants will be like the stars in the sky. This is God we know now in retrospect, founding the nation of Israel. It's the very foundation of this people that God has chosen to love and center out amongst all of humankind. He starts it with Abraham. And he could have, at that point, said, by the way, Abraham, here are the rules. But he didn't. He could have said with his son Isaac, here are the rules. He could have said with his grandson Jacob, who was then later named Israel, by the way, as the father of this nation, I am founding on your faith. Here are the rules. And he never did it. He never did it. He waited for some reason until Moses was leading his people through the desert to finally give them the rules. So I think it's a really interesting question to wonder, God, why did you wait that long? Why now? Why here? And all I can say about that is this. In the past, I have paused a sermon and I've moved over here. And I've said, some of you will remember, Jeffy does, I heard him laugh. Some of you will remember, this is my reckless speculation box. When I'm here, I'm speaking to you from what I believe to be the authority of Scripture. And I would I would tell you candidly, it's my best understanding of what Scripture is. It's not the authority of Nate or the authority of God. It's just when I read it, this is how I understand it. And I'm sharing that with you. OK, but when I step over here. I'm reckless, man. They're like, this is just what I think. This is just what I suppose. This is not here. Here, I feel like I have some authority. Here, I'm just being an honest adult with you and saying this is what I think, but I can't back this up with paperwork. Do we understand the difference? Here, when I answer the question, why does God wait so long to give the law? What I actually believe in my core is that he gave it begrudgingly. I do not think he wanted to. And I think we have an example of this when he gives Moses divorce laws. And he says, I don't really want to give you divorce laws because I don't want this to be a part of your life. But practically speaking, I see the necessity of it. So here are some ramifications and some parameters for that practice. I believe that God gave the law begrudgingly. And here's why I believe this. And this is where I'll step back here. Because I do think that there's some scriptural authority for this. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him and obey him. Why didn't he give Adam the law? Because he didn't want to. Because all he asked of Adam is just obey me. Just trust me. Just let me be the creator and you be the creation. Just obey me. Just trust me. Why didn't he give Noah the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Scholars believe Job predates Noah and all the others as well. Why didn't he give Job the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Why didn't he give it to Moses? Why didn't he give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob? Because I believe with all my heart that all God has ever wanted from us is to just trust him and obey him. But for some reason, the Hebrew people found that to be difficult. And for some reason, we found it to be difficult. And two separate times, God allowed the human experiment to exist with this impetus of trusting and obeying him. And it ended in the flood and it ended in the Tower of Babel. And then it came to his Hebrew people and he said, in my opinion, fine, here. Here's the law. And the law says, you want a path to my approval? Here it is. That's what the law says. When Moses comes down the mountain in Exodus 19 and he's got the tablets there, what God is saying is, do you want a path to salvation? To heaven? To eternity? To right standing before me? Is that what you want? Here. This is it. Follow the law. Go ahead. You want to know what the rules are? Here are the rules. And he gives them 630 rules. This is the path to be right with me. I've asked you over and over and over again, and here's what's so important, I think, for us. We feel this pull in our own lives, right? Just trust me. Just obey me. You don't have to all the way understand me. Just trust. We feel that pull, right? But God says, okay, you want law. This is the path. I've asked you to trust me. You've decided not to do that. You need to know the rules. Here are the rules. Here's the thing about the rules. And here's the thing about the law. And this is why I would be honest with you and tell you that this morning's sermon was really difficult to write because I've often said that the most difficult thing in preparing a sermon is deciding what not to say. And this morning, there's so much to say about the law and its import and how much it matters across the span of Scripture. I do not think you can overstate the importance of the law and its impact on the rest of faith and on what it was to be a New Testament Christian and even on how we understand our faith. If you want to be a Christian at all, with any knowledge of the Bible, with any knowledge of how your faith works, you've got to understand the importance of the law. I actually think it works this way. This is going to sound ludicrous. I believe in my email to the staff when I sent them my notes. I said, these seem unhinged, but just go with me. And even as I ran through them this morning, Zach, who's doing our slides, said, you're going to have to explain this one a little bit. And I said, yeah, I know. Okay, but here you go. The law equals Luke Skywalker's genealogy. Deal with it. I'm not even going to explain that. I'm just going to go on to the next point. No, here's the thing, and I've thought this a long time, and this is probably an outdated analogy, but I hope that it can hold up. I grew up, I was born in 1981. That makes some of you feel very young and others feel very old. I don't care. I was born in 1981. I was actually talking to a friend of mine this week. This is Jermaine to nothing, but I was talking to a friend of mine this week that I worked for when I was 19 and I think he was 22 and we were doing the same ministry together. And we both kind of had this realization at the same time, like we're the old dogs now, like we're both in our mid forties. We've been doing this for 25 years. We can't, we're not, we're not young anymore, which means frankly, I should be better at this than I am, but you know, here we are. I've thought for a long time, when I was growing up, Luke Skywalker and Star Wars hit me just in the exact right spot. He was a hero growing up. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia, they shaped my childhood. And if you don't know who they are and you don't understand this, I'm sorry for you. Do some work because it's worth it. In Star Wars, there's three movies. There's the first one, which is just called Star Wars. There's other movies that they've made since then with like J.J. Abrams. Who cares? Jar Jar Binks, get out of here. Nobody cares about those. Thank you, Jeff. The good ones. We're getting really close to an amen. I feel one coming. Maybe this service. Maybe so. That's right. I've never gotten an amen in the history of preaching at Grace, but if I denounce Jar Jar Binks and get one, that would be actually super funny. Sorry, I'm down the road really far on this Star Wars thing. There's three movies. It's Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and then Return of the Jedi, right? And at the end of Empire Strikes Back, at the very end of the movie, Luke Skywalker is like hanging off of this Death Star thing and he's having a confrontation with Darth Vader. And Darth Vader says the most famous line in movies, which is actually misquoted and not famous. We all quote it as, Luke, I am your father. That is not the line. The line is, no, I am your father. And if you have not watched Star Wars and the first two and a half hours of The Empire Strikes Back, when Darth Vader says, no, I am your father, it doesn't mean anything to you. But if you have, it means everything. And so I've often thought that trying to understand our faith by beginning in the New Testament and not understanding the Old Testament and the law is like trying to appreciate the impact of the greatest line in cinematic history without having watched the first two movies. Do you understand your Bible? The first two thirds of it are the Old Testament. When we start in the New Testament and our understanding of faith, we cheapen and shortchange our ability to understand that faith. And that an understanding of the import of the law is fundamental to it. Do you understand that the book of Galatians, the whole book, is about how to reconcile the law? And that if you don't understand what the law is, you can't possibly understand the book of Galatians? Do you understand that literally half of the book of Acts is an exercise in the New Testament church trying to figure out how to wrestle the law to the ground and what to expect of the Gentile converts into their Jewish faith. Do you understand that you can't understand Romans oratory and revolutionary the ministry of Jesus was if you do not understand the law? And so this morning, as we arrive at Exodus 19, and I think about myself as your pastor, and I have a responsibility to make sure we understand the import of the law. Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts. Because it's a big deal. It's important in how we understand scripture. And here's the greatest trick of the law. This one's pretty good. And this is another one that you're going to be like, dude, what are you doing? But just hear me out. The law sees dead people. A lot of you, I know, like to fill out your notes before I do the blanks. And I've decided a long time ago, I don't care. I'm not going to try to trick you. I'm not really thinking about that. I don't think anybody had this. I think I got you on this one. The law sees dead people. In 1999, here's another. At least it's not the 80s. I moved 20 years forward. In 1999, there was this movie. Gosh, I forget the name of it now. I even looked it up this morning, so I wouldn't. What was it? Sixth Sense. Thank you. Guy I don't know on the first row helping me out on his very first visit. Thank you very much, buddy. That's great. Come back any time. Sixth Sense. It had Bruce Willis. And there was this kid who plays the main character. And Sixth Sense stands out, and we all know it. We know what it is. Because it's like the greatest switcheroo in cinematic history. It's really amazing that at the beginning of the movie, they tell you that Bruce Willis is dead. And you are watching it in real time and you're like, no, he's not. He seems to be talking. He's fine. And you don't process it. And then at the end of the movie, so they've done this whole movie. And the kid who I think is Haley Jo Osmond, I think that's who plays him, thank you, I knew Liz Roberg would know that, that's why I looked over there, says that iconic line, I see dead people. And you realize, the last two hours of my life, I've misunderstood what was going on. And you realize Bruce Willis really did die at the beginning of the movie. And he's been playing a ghost this whole time. And when you watch Sixth Sense, I'm sorry a little bit if this is a spoiler alert. It's also been 25 years, so you make your choices. But when you watch that movie fresh and you realize at the end what you've actually been watching for two hours, it's kind of this moment where you go, oh my goodness, I didn't understand that. And it kind of blows your mind a little bit. That's what the law is. Because when God gave the law to his people, it was, if you want to be right with me, here's what you have to do. If you want a path to heaven. Here's the path. And so we took it for millennia to be the path. And the Hebrew people organized a religion around it. Saying we're going to be the best followers of this law that has ever been. And we're going to help everyone. When you break the law, here's what you do to restore yourself. And then you return yourself to trying to follow the law. Here's what we do. And they built a whole faith around that premise. If you want to be right with me, here's how you be right with me. And then Jesus comes along and he does the greatest switcheroo in history. And he shows us that the law sees dead people. And Jesus comes along and he says this about the law. You've heard it said that a man should not commit adultery. But I say to you that if you have looked at a woman with lust in your heart, you are guilty of that sin. And let's be very clear about this. I'm not making a joke right now. That makes every man in this room an adulterer. Okay? That's the law. Yeah, have you passed the test of not having actual intercourse with another person's wife? Great. But let me redefine this in such a way that you really understand the heart of the law. If you've left it after someone else, you're guilty. Whoa. That's a different standard. Jesus said, you've heard it said that you shouldn't kill someone else. You shouldn't murder. But I say to you that if you have hate in your heart for a brother, you are guilty of that sin. Which makes a portion of this room murderers. And so he comes and he doesn't. And I want to be very clear about this. Jesus does not redefine the law. He simply correctly defines it. And he shows us in his definition our inability to follow it. And what we find in Jesus's discussion of the law is that the whole law, and we find this in Galatians and we find this in Romans and we find this in Acts and we find this in Corinthians. This is everywhere, replete throughout the New Testament, that the entire point of the law is to show you that you can't follow it. That's the whole point. You think it's to show you how to be right before God, and really the point of it is to show you your inadequacy before God and your need for that. That's the law. The law sees dead people. It's not here to make a pathway for you to get right with God. The law exists so that you will know that you are incapable of following that pathway and will claim your need for Jesus who came and lived a perfect life and followed that law perfectly for you and died a perfect death to make a bridge to a God that you would never have access to if he did not come and perfectly fulfill that law for you. That's the point of the law. Jesus fulfilled the law and earned God's approval for you. The point of the law, friends, is to remind us of our need for Jesus. The point of God's standards is to show us that we can't meet them. The point of the cross is to remind us of the necessity of it. So when we arrive at this text in Exodus chapter 19, and we see the law brought down the mountain by Moses. And we understand it as a momentous occasion in the history of the Hebrew people and even in our faith. And we see that law as God providing a pathway to approval from him. Please understand that it is momentous. It does echo throughout the millennia. It is incredibly important. But it's incredibly important because its intent has always been to show you that you can't keep it. Its intent has always been to show you your inadequacy and your reliance on the perfect life and death of Jesus. And that the entire point of the law throughout all of history is to orient your gaze towards the cross and not towards yourself and your ability to obey rules. It's to surrender before God and say, I am not capable of that. I need this. That's the whole point. So please, church, when we think about the law, let's see it for what it is. Let's appreciate its import. But let us always, always allow it to direct our gaze towards the necessity of the cross and grow our spirit of gratitude for it. Yes? Let's pray. Father, you're good to us. We are so very sorry for inadequately following you. We're sorry for the ways that we let ourselves down as we think we're letting you down. We're so grateful for the grace that you show us in those moments. God, I pray that we would see this momentous occasion in Exodus as one that echoes throughout the centuries, but as one that is intended to point us towards you and towards your grace and towards your goodness and towards your mercy and towards your sacrifice. May the law forever point us towards the cross. May the law forever make us grateful of our Savior. And may the law forever make us grateful of what you did to make a path to be with you. In Jesus' name, amen.
Yo, it's not September yet. What are you all doing here? We're supposed to have more space than this in the middle of August. It's good to see everybody. Thank you so much for coming. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten to meet you, I would love to do that in the lobby after the service, only because now is inconvenient. But just a couple of things behind the scenes I feel like I need to tell you. Rob, our bass player, walked by me and he said, go get him, pal. And I said, well, that's very nice. And then I was setting up up here and our worship leader, Aaron, tapped me on the shoulder, which is not typical. Normally he doesn't speak to me because my mental fragility is such that I can't handle it before a sermon. But he tapped me on the shoulder and I leaned back and he said, hey, just do good. And I, thanks buddy. Thanks for that. So we will do our best. This morning we are continuing in our series on the life of Moses. Last week, I kind of paused in the narrative because it had brought us to this place where the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai, and I felt like it was really important for us to also pause. There's this word in Psalms that we learn, this Hebrew word called shalom, and shalom just means kind of a holy pause. And I felt like it was important last week to just kind of take a shalom and pause on this part of the narrative that causes us to fear God, which is a good thing. And we focus on the fear of the Lord as the beginning of wisdom. But the reason that the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai was to give the law to his people. So what happens is the presence of God, and this is in Exodus chapter 19, and I'll just tell you this up front, okay? I want you to understand this, and I want to acknowledge this for you. I'm not going to read verses this week. This is, I hate to say this, this is just here for show this week. I'm not going to open it and read to you, all right? And I feel badly about that. But I'm resting in the fact that what I'm talking to you about is in Exodus 19. And I'm resting in the fact that I'm going to refer to passages in Romans and Galatians and Acts and John and Matthew so that we are. This is going to be a biblical sermon, but I just, there was nothing that I found in my preparation that zeroed in on what I wanted to say enough that I felt like it was worth sharing. So we will be in scripture this week, but I'm not going to open it. And I know that I'm not doing that, but hopefully we'll get to the end of the sermon and you'll think, yeah, that counts as a sermon. That's the goal. But this week it's Exodus 19. And in Exodus 19, we get the law. And when I say the law, we often think of the Ten Commandments. And if you're to open your Bible and read it, I think a lot of us understand what was happening when Moses received the Ten Commandments. But we tend to think, I believe, that Moses got these two tablets of stone and God etched onto them the Ten Commandments and he walked down the mountain with those tablets of stone with the Ten Commandments on them. And that is true. But what we might not pick up from the story, at least I didn't for decades of being a believer, is that all the other laws were etched on those tablets too. There's 630 something laws in Old Testament law, in the Old Testament for the Hebrew person. And so when God gave the law, it wasn't just 10 commandments. It was 10 commandments and the other 6 hundred and twenty. OK, that's what was on the tablets. And so when Moses comes back down the mountain, he has the law in his hands and he's sharing it with the Hebrew people. And here's what I think is really interesting about this point in history. And I'm going to take some liberties here. But I wonder, why did God give the law to his people at this time? And I don't know if you've ever thought about that. But let me kind of help you with that process. When God created Adam and Eve, he made one law. He said, do whatever you want. Don't eat from the fruit of that tree. That's the only rule. Do whatever you want. Go nuts. Do whatever you want. Don't eat of the fruit of that tree. That was it. That was the only law. And then they broke it because they wanted to be like God. They forgot to fear the Lord. God could have at that point said, okay, you screwed up. Now there's sin. Now the fall has happened. Let me give you the rules. Let me tell you what you need to do to be right with me. You messed up. Let me give you the rules. He didn't do that. Have you ever noticed that? He didn't do that. He just said, now you're going to have to work for your food. Life's going to be a little bit more difficult. Things between you and I will never be the same. But he didn't give him the rules. Then, a little while later, he hit reset on the entire earth by flooding it. And he allowed Noah and Ham, Shem and Japheth and their wives to be the new Adam and Eve that repopulated the earth. And the reason that he did it is because he looked across the earth and he said, this is evil and no one follows me. And I'm, I'm, I'm saddened that I've created this. And so he hit the reset button. When he hit the reset button, did he then give Noah the rules? No. He could have. He didn't. He could have said, listen, I gave you guys a chance. You messed it up. So moving forward, here are the rules for following me. He didn't do that. Then there was the Tower of Babel. After he dispersed the nations and gave them different languages, could he have also given them the rules? Yes, he could have. Did he? No. Then, a while later, I know that this is hard for you guys because you haven't thought about this before, but I've thought about this for years. Then a while later, he calls Abraham from the land of Ur of the Chaldeans, the Sumerian dynasty. And he says, hey, Abraham, I know this is going to sound weird. I want you to pick up everything that you own and I want you to move and I'm going to show you where you're going to move as you get there. It would be like you selling your house, packing a U-Haul, and just driving in the general direction of Utah, trusting God to show you where to go. That's what he did for Abraham. And when he did that, and when in Genesis 12, he made his promises to Abraham, I'm going to bless you with people and with blessing, and one of your descendants is going to bless the whole earth. And your descendants will be like the stars in the sky. This is God we know now in retrospect, founding the nation of Israel. It's the very foundation of this people that God has chosen to love and center out amongst all of humankind. He starts it with Abraham. And he could have, at that point, said, by the way, Abraham, here are the rules. But he didn't. He could have said with his son Isaac, here are the rules. He could have said with his grandson Jacob, who was then later named Israel, by the way, as the father of this nation, I am founding on your faith. Here are the rules. And he never did it. He never did it. He waited for some reason until Moses was leading his people through the desert to finally give them the rules. So I think it's a really interesting question to wonder, God, why did you wait that long? Why now? Why here? And all I can say about that is this. In the past, I have paused a sermon and I've moved over here. And I've said, some of you will remember, Jeffy does, I heard him laugh. Some of you will remember, this is my reckless speculation box. When I'm here, I'm speaking to you from what I believe to be the authority of Scripture. And I would I would tell you candidly, it's my best understanding of what Scripture is. It's not the authority of Nate or the authority of God. It's just when I read it, this is how I understand it. And I'm sharing that with you. OK, but when I step over here. I'm reckless, man. They're like, this is just what I think. This is just what I suppose. This is not here. Here, I feel like I have some authority. Here, I'm just being an honest adult with you and saying this is what I think, but I can't back this up with paperwork. Do we understand the difference? Here, when I answer the question, why does God wait so long to give the law? What I actually believe in my core is that he gave it begrudgingly. I do not think he wanted to. And I think we have an example of this when he gives Moses divorce laws. And he says, I don't really want to give you divorce laws because I don't want this to be a part of your life. But practically speaking, I see the necessity of it. So here are some ramifications and some parameters for that practice. I believe that God gave the law begrudgingly. And here's why I believe this. And this is where I'll step back here. Because I do think that there's some scriptural authority for this. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him and obey him. Why didn't he give Adam the law? Because he didn't want to. Because all he asked of Adam is just obey me. Just trust me. Just let me be the creator and you be the creation. Just obey me. Just trust me. Why didn't he give Noah the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Scholars believe Job predates Noah and all the others as well. Why didn't he give Job the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Why didn't he give it to Moses? Why didn't he give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob? Because I believe with all my heart that all God has ever wanted from us is to just trust him and obey him. But for some reason, the Hebrew people found that to be difficult. And for some reason, we found it to be difficult. And two separate times, God allowed the human experiment to exist with this impetus of trusting and obeying him. And it ended in the flood and it ended in the Tower of Babel. And then it came to his Hebrew people and he said, in my opinion, fine, here. Here's the law. And the law says, you want a path to my approval? Here it is. That's what the law says. When Moses comes down the mountain in Exodus 19 and he's got the tablets there, what God is saying is, do you want a path to salvation? To heaven? To eternity? To right standing before me? Is that what you want? Here. This is it. Follow the law. Go ahead. You want to know what the rules are? Here are the rules. And he gives them 630 rules. This is the path to be right with me. I've asked you over and over and over again, and here's what's so important, I think, for us. We feel this pull in our own lives, right? Just trust me. Just obey me. You don't have to all the way understand me. Just trust. We feel that pull, right? But God says, okay, you want law. This is the path. I've asked you to trust me. You've decided not to do that. You need to know the rules. Here are the rules. Here's the thing about the rules. And here's the thing about the law. And this is why I would be honest with you and tell you that this morning's sermon was really difficult to write because I've often said that the most difficult thing in preparing a sermon is deciding what not to say. And this morning, there's so much to say about the law and its import and how much it matters across the span of Scripture. I do not think you can overstate the importance of the law and its impact on the rest of faith and on what it was to be a New Testament Christian and even on how we understand our faith. If you want to be a Christian at all, with any knowledge of the Bible, with any knowledge of how your faith works, you've got to understand the importance of the law. I actually think it works this way. This is going to sound ludicrous. I believe in my email to the staff when I sent them my notes. I said, these seem unhinged, but just go with me. And even as I ran through them this morning, Zach, who's doing our slides, said, you're going to have to explain this one a little bit. And I said, yeah, I know. Okay, but here you go. The law equals Luke Skywalker's genealogy. Deal with it. I'm not even going to explain that. I'm just going to go on to the next point. No, here's the thing, and I've thought this a long time, and this is probably an outdated analogy, but I hope that it can hold up. I grew up, I was born in 1981. That makes some of you feel very young and others feel very old. I don't care. I was born in 1981. I was actually talking to a friend of mine this week. This is Jermaine to nothing, but I was talking to a friend of mine this week that I worked for when I was 19 and I think he was 22 and we were doing the same ministry together. And we both kind of had this realization at the same time, like we're the old dogs now, like we're both in our mid forties. We've been doing this for 25 years. We can't, we're not, we're not young anymore, which means frankly, I should be better at this than I am, but you know, here we are. I've thought for a long time, when I was growing up, Luke Skywalker and Star Wars hit me just in the exact right spot. He was a hero growing up. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia, they shaped my childhood. And if you don't know who they are and you don't understand this, I'm sorry for you. Do some work because it's worth it. In Star Wars, there's three movies. There's the first one, which is just called Star Wars. There's other movies that they've made since then with like J.J. Abrams. Who cares? Jar Jar Binks, get out of here. Nobody cares about those. Thank you, Jeff. The good ones. We're getting really close to an amen. I feel one coming. Maybe this service. Maybe so. That's right. I've never gotten an amen in the history of preaching at Grace, but if I denounce Jar Jar Binks and get one, that would be actually super funny. Sorry, I'm down the road really far on this Star Wars thing. There's three movies. It's Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and then Return of the Jedi, right? And at the end of Empire Strikes Back, at the very end of the movie, Luke Skywalker is like hanging off of this Death Star thing and he's having a confrontation with Darth Vader. And Darth Vader says the most famous line in movies, which is actually misquoted and not famous. We all quote it as, Luke, I am your father. That is not the line. The line is, no, I am your father. And if you have not watched Star Wars and the first two and a half hours of The Empire Strikes Back, when Darth Vader says, no, I am your father, it doesn't mean anything to you. But if you have, it means everything. And so I've often thought that trying to understand our faith by beginning in the New Testament and not understanding the Old Testament and the law is like trying to appreciate the impact of the greatest line in cinematic history without having watched the first two movies. Do you understand your Bible? The first two thirds of it are the Old Testament. When we start in the New Testament and our understanding of faith, we cheapen and shortchange our ability to understand that faith. And that an understanding of the import of the law is fundamental to it. Do you understand that the book of Galatians, the whole book, is about how to reconcile the law? And that if you don't understand what the law is, you can't possibly understand the book of Galatians? Do you understand that literally half of the book of Acts is an exercise in the New Testament church trying to figure out how to wrestle the law to the ground and what to expect of the Gentile converts into their Jewish faith. Do you understand that you can't understand Romans oratory and revolutionary the ministry of Jesus was if you do not understand the law? And so this morning, as we arrive at Exodus 19, and I think about myself as your pastor, and I have a responsibility to make sure we understand the import of the law. Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts. Because it's a big deal. It's important in how we understand scripture. And here's the greatest trick of the law. This one's pretty good. And this is another one that you're going to be like, dude, what are you doing? But just hear me out. The law sees dead people. A lot of you, I know, like to fill out your notes before I do the blanks. And I've decided a long time ago, I don't care. I'm not going to try to trick you. I'm not really thinking about that. I don't think anybody had this. I think I got you on this one. The law sees dead people. In 1999, here's another. At least it's not the 80s. I moved 20 years forward. In 1999, there was this movie. Gosh, I forget the name of it now. I even looked it up this morning, so I wouldn't. What was it? Sixth Sense. Thank you. Guy I don't know on the first row helping me out on his very first visit. Thank you very much, buddy. That's great. Come back any time. Sixth Sense. It had Bruce Willis. And there was this kid who plays the main character. And Sixth Sense stands out, and we all know it. We know what it is. Because it's like the greatest switcheroo in cinematic history. It's really amazing that at the beginning of the movie, they tell you that Bruce Willis is dead. And you are watching it in real time and you're like, no, he's not. He seems to be talking. He's fine. And you don't process it. And then at the end of the movie, so they've done this whole movie. And the kid who I think is Haley Jo Osmond, I think that's who plays him, thank you, I knew Liz Roberg would know that, that's why I looked over there, says that iconic line, I see dead people. And you realize, the last two hours of my life, I've misunderstood what was going on. And you realize Bruce Willis really did die at the beginning of the movie. And he's been playing a ghost this whole time. And when you watch Sixth Sense, I'm sorry a little bit if this is a spoiler alert. It's also been 25 years, so you make your choices. But when you watch that movie fresh and you realize at the end what you've actually been watching for two hours, it's kind of this moment where you go, oh my goodness, I didn't understand that. And it kind of blows your mind a little bit. That's what the law is. Because when God gave the law to his people, it was, if you want to be right with me, here's what you have to do. If you want a path to heaven. Here's the path. And so we took it for millennia to be the path. And the Hebrew people organized a religion around it. Saying we're going to be the best followers of this law that has ever been. And we're going to help everyone. When you break the law, here's what you do to restore yourself. And then you return yourself to trying to follow the law. Here's what we do. And they built a whole faith around that premise. If you want to be right with me, here's how you be right with me. And then Jesus comes along and he does the greatest switcheroo in history. And he shows us that the law sees dead people. And Jesus comes along and he says this about the law. You've heard it said that a man should not commit adultery. But I say to you that if you have looked at a woman with lust in your heart, you are guilty of that sin. And let's be very clear about this. I'm not making a joke right now. That makes every man in this room an adulterer. Okay? That's the law. Yeah, have you passed the test of not having actual intercourse with another person's wife? Great. But let me redefine this in such a way that you really understand the heart of the law. If you've left it after someone else, you're guilty. Whoa. That's a different standard. Jesus said, you've heard it said that you shouldn't kill someone else. You shouldn't murder. But I say to you that if you have hate in your heart for a brother, you are guilty of that sin. Which makes a portion of this room murderers. And so he comes and he doesn't. And I want to be very clear about this. Jesus does not redefine the law. He simply correctly defines it. And he shows us in his definition our inability to follow it. And what we find in Jesus's discussion of the law is that the whole law, and we find this in Galatians and we find this in Romans and we find this in Acts and we find this in Corinthians. This is everywhere, replete throughout the New Testament, that the entire point of the law is to show you that you can't follow it. That's the whole point. You think it's to show you how to be right before God, and really the point of it is to show you your inadequacy before God and your need for that. That's the law. The law sees dead people. It's not here to make a pathway for you to get right with God. The law exists so that you will know that you are incapable of following that pathway and will claim your need for Jesus who came and lived a perfect life and followed that law perfectly for you and died a perfect death to make a bridge to a God that you would never have access to if he did not come and perfectly fulfill that law for you. That's the point of the law. Jesus fulfilled the law and earned God's approval for you. The point of the law, friends, is to remind us of our need for Jesus. The point of God's standards is to show us that we can't meet them. The point of the cross is to remind us of the necessity of it. So when we arrive at this text in Exodus chapter 19, and we see the law brought down the mountain by Moses. And we understand it as a momentous occasion in the history of the Hebrew people and even in our faith. And we see that law as God providing a pathway to approval from him. Please understand that it is momentous. It does echo throughout the millennia. It is incredibly important. But it's incredibly important because its intent has always been to show you that you can't keep it. Its intent has always been to show you your inadequacy and your reliance on the perfect life and death of Jesus. And that the entire point of the law throughout all of history is to orient your gaze towards the cross and not towards yourself and your ability to obey rules. It's to surrender before God and say, I am not capable of that. I need this. That's the whole point. So please, church, when we think about the law, let's see it for what it is. Let's appreciate its import. But let us always, always allow it to direct our gaze towards the necessity of the cross and grow our spirit of gratitude for it. Yes? Let's pray. Father, you're good to us. We are so very sorry for inadequately following you. We're sorry for the ways that we let ourselves down as we think we're letting you down. We're so grateful for the grace that you show us in those moments. God, I pray that we would see this momentous occasion in Exodus as one that echoes throughout the centuries, but as one that is intended to point us towards you and towards your grace and towards your goodness and towards your mercy and towards your sacrifice. May the law forever point us towards the cross. May the law forever make us grateful of our Savior. And may the law forever make us grateful of what you did to make a path to be with you. In Jesus' name, amen.
Yo, it's not September yet. What are you all doing here? We're supposed to have more space than this in the middle of August. It's good to see everybody. Thank you so much for coming. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten to meet you, I would love to do that in the lobby after the service, only because now is inconvenient. But just a couple of things behind the scenes I feel like I need to tell you. Rob, our bass player, walked by me and he said, go get him, pal. And I said, well, that's very nice. And then I was setting up up here and our worship leader, Aaron, tapped me on the shoulder, which is not typical. Normally he doesn't speak to me because my mental fragility is such that I can't handle it before a sermon. But he tapped me on the shoulder and I leaned back and he said, hey, just do good. And I, thanks buddy. Thanks for that. So we will do our best. This morning we are continuing in our series on the life of Moses. Last week, I kind of paused in the narrative because it had brought us to this place where the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai, and I felt like it was really important for us to also pause. There's this word in Psalms that we learn, this Hebrew word called shalom, and shalom just means kind of a holy pause. And I felt like it was important last week to just kind of take a shalom and pause on this part of the narrative that causes us to fear God, which is a good thing. And we focus on the fear of the Lord as the beginning of wisdom. But the reason that the presence of God rested on Mount Sinai was to give the law to his people. So what happens is the presence of God, and this is in Exodus chapter 19, and I'll just tell you this up front, okay? I want you to understand this, and I want to acknowledge this for you. I'm not going to read verses this week. This is, I hate to say this, this is just here for show this week. I'm not going to open it and read to you, all right? And I feel badly about that. But I'm resting in the fact that what I'm talking to you about is in Exodus 19. And I'm resting in the fact that I'm going to refer to passages in Romans and Galatians and Acts and John and Matthew so that we are. This is going to be a biblical sermon, but I just, there was nothing that I found in my preparation that zeroed in on what I wanted to say enough that I felt like it was worth sharing. So we will be in scripture this week, but I'm not going to open it. And I know that I'm not doing that, but hopefully we'll get to the end of the sermon and you'll think, yeah, that counts as a sermon. That's the goal. But this week it's Exodus 19. And in Exodus 19, we get the law. And when I say the law, we often think of the Ten Commandments. And if you're to open your Bible and read it, I think a lot of us understand what was happening when Moses received the Ten Commandments. But we tend to think, I believe, that Moses got these two tablets of stone and God etched onto them the Ten Commandments and he walked down the mountain with those tablets of stone with the Ten Commandments on them. And that is true. But what we might not pick up from the story, at least I didn't for decades of being a believer, is that all the other laws were etched on those tablets too. There's 630 something laws in Old Testament law, in the Old Testament for the Hebrew person. And so when God gave the law, it wasn't just 10 commandments. It was 10 commandments and the other 6 hundred and twenty. OK, that's what was on the tablets. And so when Moses comes back down the mountain, he has the law in his hands and he's sharing it with the Hebrew people. And here's what I think is really interesting about this point in history. And I'm going to take some liberties here. But I wonder, why did God give the law to his people at this time? And I don't know if you've ever thought about that. But let me kind of help you with that process. When God created Adam and Eve, he made one law. He said, do whatever you want. Don't eat from the fruit of that tree. That's the only rule. Do whatever you want. Go nuts. Do whatever you want. Don't eat of the fruit of that tree. That was it. That was the only law. And then they broke it because they wanted to be like God. They forgot to fear the Lord. God could have at that point said, okay, you screwed up. Now there's sin. Now the fall has happened. Let me give you the rules. Let me tell you what you need to do to be right with me. You messed up. Let me give you the rules. He didn't do that. Have you ever noticed that? He didn't do that. He just said, now you're going to have to work for your food. Life's going to be a little bit more difficult. Things between you and I will never be the same. But he didn't give him the rules. Then, a little while later, he hit reset on the entire earth by flooding it. And he allowed Noah and Ham, Shem and Japheth and their wives to be the new Adam and Eve that repopulated the earth. And the reason that he did it is because he looked across the earth and he said, this is evil and no one follows me. And I'm, I'm, I'm saddened that I've created this. And so he hit the reset button. When he hit the reset button, did he then give Noah the rules? No. He could have. He didn't. He could have said, listen, I gave you guys a chance. You messed it up. So moving forward, here are the rules for following me. He didn't do that. Then there was the Tower of Babel. After he dispersed the nations and gave them different languages, could he have also given them the rules? Yes, he could have. Did he? No. Then, a while later, I know that this is hard for you guys because you haven't thought about this before, but I've thought about this for years. Then a while later, he calls Abraham from the land of Ur of the Chaldeans, the Sumerian dynasty. And he says, hey, Abraham, I know this is going to sound weird. I want you to pick up everything that you own and I want you to move and I'm going to show you where you're going to move as you get there. It would be like you selling your house, packing a U-Haul, and just driving in the general direction of Utah, trusting God to show you where to go. That's what he did for Abraham. And when he did that, and when in Genesis 12, he made his promises to Abraham, I'm going to bless you with people and with blessing, and one of your descendants is going to bless the whole earth. And your descendants will be like the stars in the sky. This is God we know now in retrospect, founding the nation of Israel. It's the very foundation of this people that God has chosen to love and center out amongst all of humankind. He starts it with Abraham. And he could have, at that point, said, by the way, Abraham, here are the rules. But he didn't. He could have said with his son Isaac, here are the rules. He could have said with his grandson Jacob, who was then later named Israel, by the way, as the father of this nation, I am founding on your faith. Here are the rules. And he never did it. He never did it. He waited for some reason until Moses was leading his people through the desert to finally give them the rules. So I think it's a really interesting question to wonder, God, why did you wait that long? Why now? Why here? And all I can say about that is this. In the past, I have paused a sermon and I've moved over here. And I've said, some of you will remember, Jeffy does, I heard him laugh. Some of you will remember, this is my reckless speculation box. When I'm here, I'm speaking to you from what I believe to be the authority of Scripture. And I would I would tell you candidly, it's my best understanding of what Scripture is. It's not the authority of Nate or the authority of God. It's just when I read it, this is how I understand it. And I'm sharing that with you. OK, but when I step over here. I'm reckless, man. They're like, this is just what I think. This is just what I suppose. This is not here. Here, I feel like I have some authority. Here, I'm just being an honest adult with you and saying this is what I think, but I can't back this up with paperwork. Do we understand the difference? Here, when I answer the question, why does God wait so long to give the law? What I actually believe in my core is that he gave it begrudgingly. I do not think he wanted to. And I think we have an example of this when he gives Moses divorce laws. And he says, I don't really want to give you divorce laws because I don't want this to be a part of your life. But practically speaking, I see the necessity of it. So here are some ramifications and some parameters for that practice. I believe that God gave the law begrudgingly. And here's why I believe this. And this is where I'll step back here. Because I do think that there's some scriptural authority for this. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him. All God ever wanted was for us to trust him and obey him. Why didn't he give Adam the law? Because he didn't want to. Because all he asked of Adam is just obey me. Just trust me. Just let me be the creator and you be the creation. Just obey me. Just trust me. Why didn't he give Noah the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Scholars believe Job predates Noah and all the others as well. Why didn't he give Job the law? Because just trust me. Just obey me. Why didn't he give it to Moses? Why didn't he give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob? Because I believe with all my heart that all God has ever wanted from us is to just trust him and obey him. But for some reason, the Hebrew people found that to be difficult. And for some reason, we found it to be difficult. And two separate times, God allowed the human experiment to exist with this impetus of trusting and obeying him. And it ended in the flood and it ended in the Tower of Babel. And then it came to his Hebrew people and he said, in my opinion, fine, here. Here's the law. And the law says, you want a path to my approval? Here it is. That's what the law says. When Moses comes down the mountain in Exodus 19 and he's got the tablets there, what God is saying is, do you want a path to salvation? To heaven? To eternity? To right standing before me? Is that what you want? Here. This is it. Follow the law. Go ahead. You want to know what the rules are? Here are the rules. And he gives them 630 rules. This is the path to be right with me. I've asked you over and over and over again, and here's what's so important, I think, for us. We feel this pull in our own lives, right? Just trust me. Just obey me. You don't have to all the way understand me. Just trust. We feel that pull, right? But God says, okay, you want law. This is the path. I've asked you to trust me. You've decided not to do that. You need to know the rules. Here are the rules. Here's the thing about the rules. And here's the thing about the law. And this is why I would be honest with you and tell you that this morning's sermon was really difficult to write because I've often said that the most difficult thing in preparing a sermon is deciding what not to say. And this morning, there's so much to say about the law and its import and how much it matters across the span of Scripture. I do not think you can overstate the importance of the law and its impact on the rest of faith and on what it was to be a New Testament Christian and even on how we understand our faith. If you want to be a Christian at all, with any knowledge of the Bible, with any knowledge of how your faith works, you've got to understand the importance of the law. I actually think it works this way. This is going to sound ludicrous. I believe in my email to the staff when I sent them my notes. I said, these seem unhinged, but just go with me. And even as I ran through them this morning, Zach, who's doing our slides, said, you're going to have to explain this one a little bit. And I said, yeah, I know. Okay, but here you go. The law equals Luke Skywalker's genealogy. Deal with it. I'm not even going to explain that. I'm just going to go on to the next point. No, here's the thing, and I've thought this a long time, and this is probably an outdated analogy, but I hope that it can hold up. I grew up, I was born in 1981. That makes some of you feel very young and others feel very old. I don't care. I was born in 1981. I was actually talking to a friend of mine this week. This is Jermaine to nothing, but I was talking to a friend of mine this week that I worked for when I was 19 and I think he was 22 and we were doing the same ministry together. And we both kind of had this realization at the same time, like we're the old dogs now, like we're both in our mid forties. We've been doing this for 25 years. We can't, we're not, we're not young anymore, which means frankly, I should be better at this than I am, but you know, here we are. I've thought for a long time, when I was growing up, Luke Skywalker and Star Wars hit me just in the exact right spot. He was a hero growing up. Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia, they shaped my childhood. And if you don't know who they are and you don't understand this, I'm sorry for you. Do some work because it's worth it. In Star Wars, there's three movies. There's the first one, which is just called Star Wars. There's other movies that they've made since then with like J.J. Abrams. Who cares? Jar Jar Binks, get out of here. Nobody cares about those. Thank you, Jeff. The good ones. We're getting really close to an amen. I feel one coming. Maybe this service. Maybe so. That's right. I've never gotten an amen in the history of preaching at Grace, but if I denounce Jar Jar Binks and get one, that would be actually super funny. Sorry, I'm down the road really far on this Star Wars thing. There's three movies. It's Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and then Return of the Jedi, right? And at the end of Empire Strikes Back, at the very end of the movie, Luke Skywalker is like hanging off of this Death Star thing and he's having a confrontation with Darth Vader. And Darth Vader says the most famous line in movies, which is actually misquoted and not famous. We all quote it as, Luke, I am your father. That is not the line. The line is, no, I am your father. And if you have not watched Star Wars and the first two and a half hours of The Empire Strikes Back, when Darth Vader says, no, I am your father, it doesn't mean anything to you. But if you have, it means everything. And so I've often thought that trying to understand our faith by beginning in the New Testament and not understanding the Old Testament and the law is like trying to appreciate the impact of the greatest line in cinematic history without having watched the first two movies. Do you understand your Bible? The first two thirds of it are the Old Testament. When we start in the New Testament and our understanding of faith, we cheapen and shortchange our ability to understand that faith. And that an understanding of the import of the law is fundamental to it. Do you understand that the book of Galatians, the whole book, is about how to reconcile the law? And that if you don't understand what the law is, you can't possibly understand the book of Galatians? Do you understand that literally half of the book of Acts is an exercise in the New Testament church trying to figure out how to wrestle the law to the ground and what to expect of the Gentile converts into their Jewish faith. Do you understand that you can't understand Romans oratory and revolutionary the ministry of Jesus was if you do not understand the law? And so this morning, as we arrive at Exodus 19, and I think about myself as your pastor, and I have a responsibility to make sure we understand the import of the law. Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts. Because it's a big deal. It's important in how we understand scripture. And here's the greatest trick of the law. This one's pretty good. And this is another one that you're going to be like, dude, what are you doing? But just hear me out. The law sees dead people. A lot of you, I know, like to fill out your notes before I do the blanks. And I've decided a long time ago, I don't care. I'm not going to try to trick you. I'm not really thinking about that. I don't think anybody had this. I think I got you on this one. The law sees dead people. In 1999, here's another. At least it's not the 80s. I moved 20 years forward. In 1999, there was this movie. Gosh, I forget the name of it now. I even looked it up this morning, so I wouldn't. What was it? Sixth Sense. Thank you. Guy I don't know on the first row helping me out on his very first visit. Thank you very much, buddy. That's great. Come back any time. Sixth Sense. It had Bruce Willis. And there was this kid who plays the main character. And Sixth Sense stands out, and we all know it. We know what it is. Because it's like the greatest switcheroo in cinematic history. It's really amazing that at the beginning of the movie, they tell you that Bruce Willis is dead. And you are watching it in real time and you're like, no, he's not. He seems to be talking. He's fine. And you don't process it. And then at the end of the movie, so they've done this whole movie. And the kid who I think is Haley Jo Osmond, I think that's who plays him, thank you, I knew Liz Roberg would know that, that's why I looked over there, says that iconic line, I see dead people. And you realize, the last two hours of my life, I've misunderstood what was going on. And you realize Bruce Willis really did die at the beginning of the movie. And he's been playing a ghost this whole time. And when you watch Sixth Sense, I'm sorry a little bit if this is a spoiler alert. It's also been 25 years, so you make your choices. But when you watch that movie fresh and you realize at the end what you've actually been watching for two hours, it's kind of this moment where you go, oh my goodness, I didn't understand that. And it kind of blows your mind a little bit. That's what the law is. Because when God gave the law to his people, it was, if you want to be right with me, here's what you have to do. If you want a path to heaven. Here's the path. And so we took it for millennia to be the path. And the Hebrew people organized a religion around it. Saying we're going to be the best followers of this law that has ever been. And we're going to help everyone. When you break the law, here's what you do to restore yourself. And then you return yourself to trying to follow the law. Here's what we do. And they built a whole faith around that premise. If you want to be right with me, here's how you be right with me. And then Jesus comes along and he does the greatest switcheroo in history. And he shows us that the law sees dead people. And Jesus comes along and he says this about the law. You've heard it said that a man should not commit adultery. But I say to you that if you have looked at a woman with lust in your heart, you are guilty of that sin. And let's be very clear about this. I'm not making a joke right now. That makes every man in this room an adulterer. Okay? That's the law. Yeah, have you passed the test of not having actual intercourse with another person's wife? Great. But let me redefine this in such a way that you really understand the heart of the law. If you've left it after someone else, you're guilty. Whoa. That's a different standard. Jesus said, you've heard it said that you shouldn't kill someone else. You shouldn't murder. But I say to you that if you have hate in your heart for a brother, you are guilty of that sin. Which makes a portion of this room murderers. And so he comes and he doesn't. And I want to be very clear about this. Jesus does not redefine the law. He simply correctly defines it. And he shows us in his definition our inability to follow it. And what we find in Jesus's discussion of the law is that the whole law, and we find this in Galatians and we find this in Romans and we find this in Acts and we find this in Corinthians. This is everywhere, replete throughout the New Testament, that the entire point of the law is to show you that you can't follow it. That's the whole point. You think it's to show you how to be right before God, and really the point of it is to show you your inadequacy before God and your need for that. That's the law. The law sees dead people. It's not here to make a pathway for you to get right with God. The law exists so that you will know that you are incapable of following that pathway and will claim your need for Jesus who came and lived a perfect life and followed that law perfectly for you and died a perfect death to make a bridge to a God that you would never have access to if he did not come and perfectly fulfill that law for you. That's the point of the law. Jesus fulfilled the law and earned God's approval for you. The point of the law, friends, is to remind us of our need for Jesus. The point of God's standards is to show us that we can't meet them. The point of the cross is to remind us of the necessity of it. So when we arrive at this text in Exodus chapter 19, and we see the law brought down the mountain by Moses. And we understand it as a momentous occasion in the history of the Hebrew people and even in our faith. And we see that law as God providing a pathway to approval from him. Please understand that it is momentous. It does echo throughout the millennia. It is incredibly important. But it's incredibly important because its intent has always been to show you that you can't keep it. Its intent has always been to show you your inadequacy and your reliance on the perfect life and death of Jesus. And that the entire point of the law throughout all of history is to orient your gaze towards the cross and not towards yourself and your ability to obey rules. It's to surrender before God and say, I am not capable of that. I need this. That's the whole point. So please, church, when we think about the law, let's see it for what it is. Let's appreciate its import. But let us always, always allow it to direct our gaze towards the necessity of the cross and grow our spirit of gratitude for it. Yes? Let's pray. Father, you're good to us. We are so very sorry for inadequately following you. We're sorry for the ways that we let ourselves down as we think we're letting you down. We're so grateful for the grace that you show us in those moments. God, I pray that we would see this momentous occasion in Exodus as one that echoes throughout the centuries, but as one that is intended to point us towards you and towards your grace and towards your goodness and towards your mercy and towards your sacrifice. May the law forever point us towards the cross. May the law forever make us grateful of our Savior. And may the law forever make us grateful of what you did to make a path to be with you. In Jesus' name, amen.
Well, good morning, everyone. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks so much for making grace a part of your Sunday morning. If you're watching online, wherever you are, whatever you may be doing, thank you for your presence there and here. It is with some excitement that I get back into the pulpit this weekend. The elders several years ago made a decision that I would get a stay from preaching in the month of July, and our staff carries the torch. And I don't know about you guys, but I thought Aaron and Aaron and Kyle each preached the best sermon I've ever heard them preach, and I thought that they carried the torch well in July. So I'm very grateful to have such a deep bench here at the church that can serve us in those weeks. And then Doug Bergeson preached last week, and he did fine. But I'm very grateful that we have those voices in our church, and I'm very grateful for when we get to hear from other voices. I'm also grateful that I get to continue on this morning in our series in the life of Moses. We took a brief break last week for Ministry Partner Sunday, but this week we're jumping back into Moses and we're going to carry Moses through the end of the month into Labor Day weekend. And then the second weekend in September, we're going to begin a new series called Gentle and Lowly. I will tell you more about that. There's going to be a book. We're all going to read it together. If you'd like to, I think it's really going to bring us together as a church. I'm very excited for that series. But before that, we have this, where we are continuing to look at the life of Moses and how God used him to lead his people out of Egypt and eventually into the promised land and establish this new nation. As we look at the portion of the story on which I want to focus this morning, I want us to attempt to shed a mindset and adopt a new one that may be best illustrated by my daughter this past week. This last week, I had an opportunity to go on a cruise. My parents are cruise people. They like cruises. Some people are cruise people. You're weird. Some people are not cruise people, okay? But we went on a cruise, and as part of this cruise, it was a really wonderful experience. My sister and her three girls and her husband came along as well. It was one big family, and it was a really, really great experience. The last full day we were there, we docked at Royal Caribbean's private island called Coco Cay. Perfect day at Coco Cay. Except it rained the whole time. So our joke was, it's a pretty okay day at Coco Cay. Coco Cay is home to, there's this Daredevil's Tower. And off this tower in the middle of the island spit five different water slides. The apex is Daredevil's Peak, which is the tallest water slide in North America. And Lily did it. My nine-year-old daughter chose it, and she did it, and I was so proud of her. There is nothing that that has to do anything at all with my sermon. I'm just proud of Lily for choosing to do Daredevil's Peak because I did it and I was, you know, you cross your feet and your arms like this and I'm like wiping off my eyes because I'm trying to save my contacts so I don't have to walk around in a fog for the rest of the day. And I'm giggling to myself thinking, and I said out loud, holy crap, this is fast. Holy crap, this is fast. But she did it. Great. Here's why I bring that up. Because on your way up the stairs, there's different slides that you can do. And the very lowest is like some sort of racers. The idea is that you start each one at the same time and you see who gets to the bottom first, which spoiler alert, it's whoever's fattest. That's who gets to the bottom first. That's how that works. I won a lot of races this week. And there's like this burgundy-ish slide that's enclosed, and then there's a yellow slide that's open, and you kind of like slosh on the sides of it. And as we were going up the stairs, Lily said, Daddy, we're going to do this later, but don't do the yellow slide. And I said, why, baby? And she goes, because I think I saw on YouTube that people fly out of it. They just fly like right off the sides and they just, just careen into Daredevil's Peak, right? And this was a legitimate concern of hers, that Daddy, please don't do this slide because you might fly out of it and die. There's, there's legitimate danger at the top of the slide. And I just remember thinking, sweetie, you don't know how liability works. There is no one on the planet that is more incented to make sure that no one flies off this slide than Royal Caribbean. They're insured for this. That's not going to happen. You could find someone who weighs 450 pounds, put them in a speed suit, grease them up, and they're still not flying out of that slide. Okay? No one's flying out of that slide, but I thought what a quaint, wonderful thing it is to be nine and to believe that you are in such peril at the top of this slide that you may not make it to the bottom. When's the last time you had that kind of wonder and naivety in your life? When it was a possibility to do a water slide and it end fatally. Of course we're not scared of that. Of course I know that I'm not going to fly out of it. Of course I know it's perfectly safe. Of course I was never scared at any point to do any of these slides because they're insured by American companies, which means you're not going to die on them. But Lily didn't know that. She still has this nine-year-old sense of wonder where danger is possible on water slides. And there is something about life that chips away at our wonder, isn't there? There's about life we're becoming an adult means that we don't awe at things anymore it means that we don't wonder at things anymore it means that we instantly explain things away and if we can't instantly explain it away we know that there is a way to explain it away. We just need to acquaint ourselves with it. And it makes me sad that I can't stand at the top of a water slide with a sense of trepidation in my heart. I was trepidatious about keeping my breakfast down before I did Daredevil's Peak. It turns a lot, and I thought I might get sick. But at no point was I scared for my life. At no point did I think something catastrophic was going to happen, but what must it be like to be nine again and to be fully convinced that Dad shouldn't do the yellow slide because it may not be safe. Grownups, we've lost that sense of wonder. We've lost our ability to marvel. And we very readily explain things away. But I bring that up and I acquaint us with that mindset of the wondrous child because I believe that the passage that we are going to read today stirs up within us that wonder if we will let it. As I read through Exodus, getting ready for this series, and I arrived at this passage, I'm going to be in Exodus chapter 19, verses 16 through the end of the chapter, through 25. And I read this passage. It kind of had this profound impact on me. On the trip, like you do, I read a book. When you go on vacation, you read a book. And so I was reading a book, and this book, East of Eden by John Steinbeck, is particularly profound. And there was one chapter where it ended with this old man knowing that his children were tricking him into retirement and that he was going to go into retirement and die, and he was content with this choice. And he asked his eldest child to keep his knowledge of that away from his other kids. Let them go on thinking they're tricking me. And the way that it was written was so profound that it felt like I would cheapen the book and the thought if I simply turned the page and continued to read. So after I read that portion of the book, I read it again, and then I shut the book, and I put it on the nightstand, and I turned off the light, and I just ruminated in it. Because there are some portions of some stories that get cheapened when you continue on without reflecting on them. And I think this morning, in Exodus chapter 19, we arrive at one of those moments. That if we just continue to charge ahead, reading the life of Moses, we miss the profundity that is bound within these words. If we do not reflect on it. Further, not only do I want us to reflect on it this morning, but I want us to do our very best to reflect on it with the wonder of a naive nine-year-old. I want us to do our best to marvel at these words, to put ourselves in this situation, and to allow the words to sweep us up and to respect what is happening in this portion of the story. God is about to give the Ten Commandments to the Hebrew people. And next week we will look at the law and the commandments and we will talk about why they're so important and so meaningful and how they are the fulcrum on which a huge portion of the Bible rests in teeters. We'll look at that next week. And it would be tempting to get to this part of the story, get to Mount Sinai in the presence of God and just move right into the law because that's the headliner from this part of the book. That's the headliner from this part of the story. But I don't just want to rush headlong into the law and miss how profound the precursor is to that deliverance of the law. The Hebrew people have been wandering through the desert by this point for some time. Months, years, decades. And they come to this mountain called Mount Sinai. And clouds and smoke come to rest over the mountain. And God tells Moses to tell the people this is now a holy place. Do not let anyone touch the mountain. If anyone touches the mountain, they are to be stoned or run through with arrows. This is holy ground. Can you imagine being an ancient Hebrew person, having escaped from Egypt, watched God part the waters and then collapse them in on the Egyptian army and the top 600 chariot drivers in their country. Demolish the army and make you safe. And every day you wake up and you pick up manna on the ground and you feed your family and God provides for you every day. Can you imagine what it would be like? And then, and you're led by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. And then one day you're in front of this mountain and cloud and smoke comes to rest on the mountain and you are told this is holy ground. You cannot touch it. And you're not American. You don't understand science. You don't have all the learning that you have. You cannot explain this away. The only thing to explain it away is this is miraculous and that is from God. And you marvel at it and you awe at it because you have not, your wonder has not been chipped away at by your education and by your experience. And then on the third day, this is what transpires. And this is where I think it's worth taking a holy pause to reflect on what's happening in the narrative. I'm going to read you more verses than I normally do. I simply think that they're all important. And so read said to the Lord, The people cannot come up from Mount Sinai because you warned us yourself. Put limits around the mountain and set it apart as holy. The Lord replied, Go down and bring Aaron up with you, but the priests and the people must not force their way through to come up to the Lord, or he will break out against them. So Moses went down to the people and told them. I know that this may seem obscure to point out on a Sunday morning, but to me it's not obscure at all. To me, it's halting. It's poignant. It's important. God brings his very presence down to the top of the mountain. He has not brought his presence anywhere since the Garden of Eden. But he brings it down here now. And for three days before he brought his presence, there was smoke and fire and clouds covering this holy ground. And then he descends onto it himself and he calls to Moses, come and speak to me. And before he gives Moses the law, which is the reason that he came, he just simply says to Moses, go and tell them, don't come here. This is holy. This is sacred. And I know that it's so hard for us to do, and our American 21st century minds that are so smart, and so educated, and so smug. But can we not envision what it must have been like to marvel at this mountain where it says smoke is lifting from it like a furnace because the presence of God is on it? And there is this man that we revere and he is leading us named Moses. And he's called to the top of it. And he comes down with a message for us. Our imaginations are too atrophied to appreciate this. This point would be better made in the second and third grade room than it is here. Because we're too smart for this. We're too developed for this. We've lost our sense of wonder. We know water slides are safe. And so we read passages like this, and I'm afraid that we miss it. And we go, what's the point? This is the point. Do you see how awful and terrifying God is? Do you see how big He is? Do you see how marvelous He is? Do you see how awesome, in the very sense of the word, that He is. Do you see how awesome in the very sense of the word that he is? And so I think if we just read this and we go, yeah, yeah, get to the commandments, we cheapen the narrative and we miss what's happening here. Because what's happening here reminds me of one of my favorite Proverbs, Proverbs chapter nine, verse 10, where it simply says at the beginning, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. This passage personifies, exemplifies, illustrates that point better than any other passage I know outside of the book of Revelation, where it just grabs you and it shakes you and it makes you pay attention to who our God is and how big he is. How fearful must we have been if we were there? If we can imagine what it must have been like to be in the desert and to watch this mountain shake violently and to see smoke rising off of it and to know that our God that we worship, that we just sang to, is present there. How much would that stir us? And how much fear would we have of who that awesome God is and what he must be capable of? It is something that we have lost in 21st century church. But to me, it illustrates and personifies that passage in Proverbs that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And many of us have probably heard that passage before, have heard that idiom before. Even if we didn't know it was from Proverbs, we've heard that phrase, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And what we tend to do is we try to defang it by making fear mean reverence and awe. It doesn't really mean afraid. It means that we just revere God. And I want to be very clear about this this morning. No, no, no. Fear means being afraid. When we were doing the water slides, back to this well, when we were doing the water slides, about halfway up the tower, there was these slides called dueling demons. And at the top of them, there was a capsule. It was clear plastic and it would open hydraulically. And you would step into the capsule and it it would close, and there's water running down your back, and your feet are crossed, and your hands are here. And at some point or another, the sadistic slide worker is going to press the button, and the bottom's going to drop out. Okay? That was the ride. And it was super fun. I was laughing the whole time. It was great. Lily said she wanted to do it. She had said she wasn't going to do it. But she said she wanted to try dueling demons with her cousin Charlotte. And I was like, great, babe. And so we get up there. We wait in line. And it's her turn. And she goes, and I want to watch her in the capsule. And the thing opens like a coffin, you know. And then, and she took one step into it and paused and like looked around. And I was getting ready. I knew she was going to turn and look at me. And I was getting ready to like, babe, you got it. You can do this. You're all right. You know, like I was going to talk her into it. But when she turned and looked at me, the color had left her face. And she just went. And I just, all toughness left. Baby, come here. Come here. You don't have to do it. Walk down by yourself in shame, but you don't have to do it. You don't have to do this. I'm still going to do it. I'll see you at the bottom. I'm not going to miss my opportunity to duel the demon. But when I saw her, I knew she was afraid. She was scared. There's no talking her into this. Fear of the Lord means being afraid. We don't soft pedal it with reverence first. We are actually afraid of him and what he can do. We actually tremble at his might. I don't know if you read it, if you caught it in the narrative, but it's said that the whole camp trembled. The tough, grizzled old men. The women who have seen everything and endured more. The whole camp tremb idea that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, let us not soft pedal it first into reverence. Let us understand first that it is an actual sense of fear where the color leaves our face and we understand what it is that our God is capable of. And we don't talk about this a lot, particularly not in American churches, but he can smite us. He can put his thumb on us and end it. You know your mom used to say, I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it? God actually means it. We should be fearful of God. That's where our relationship with him should start. And when we skip that step, I think we shortchange ourselves. I actually have thought about it this way for years. And I don't know if this will resonate with you or not, but for me, the way that our progressive understanding of who God is isn't very dissimilar from my progressive understanding of who my father is. I was born in the 80s, and when you're born in the 80s, your parents hit you. They spanked you, okay? That's what you got. I got spanked when I was growing up. We don't do it now. If we do it now, we don't talk about it. But I will say that there are times when my children act in such a way, and I think this is why we invented spanking. You have no fear, and you need a knot jerked in your tail. My dad didn't just spank me. And one of the biggest mistakes I made was when I was eight years old, my mom broke the wooden spoon on me and I laughed at her. It was belt after that, from then on out. And if I had anything in my life to do over again, I would strongly consider going back to eight years old and crying and pretending like that hurt. Because the belt was the worst. Not only did we get spanked with the belt, but my dad had a couple of moves perfected that I can't even do to this day. I called it the no-look slap and grab, but when we were in the car, I'd be in the back seat, and if me and my sister got sideways, dad could, without looking, without breaking eye contact with the road, reach back and slap. He had some sort of radar to know where my left thigh was. He could reach back and slap it and grab it and squeeze it. So now I'm dealing with the sting of hitting my leg. And then he squeezes it and he has these fulcrum grips on my leg. I'm in incredible pain. I have no idea what words he's saying or what words I'm using. I'm just trying to get this done with, right? And then he had this other move where he would grab my arm and twist it and just kind of jam my shoulder into itself and walk me across a room. And I'm going like this. It was easier to be a parent in the 80s, I think. But when I was little, I was scared of my dad. For better or worse, maybe I need to work this out in therapy. For better or worse, I was scared of him. I didn't get sideways because I didn't want to get hurt. I watched my mouth because I didn't want the no-look slapping grab. I didn't want to get spanked. I was scared, and so that kept me in line. But eventually, somewhere in middle school, I realized, defects is a thing. He's not going to hurt me that bad. He really is not going to do anything. Or I can report him. I got a leg up. But by that time in my life, I just wanted to make him proud of me. I didn't obey him because I was scared of getting the belt. I obeyed him because I wanted to make him proud. And then at some point in my life, I realized that he was proud of me, that he was proud to call me his son. And my mom was proud to call me her son. And then the knowledge of their pride in me made me love them all the more. And so fear begat reverence, begat a desire to make them proud. The fact that I knew that they were proud of me begat this deep love for them, that they loved and accepted me for who I was no matter what and it was unconditional and I don't think it works very differently with our Heavenly Father but we can't just jump straight to love we have to experience fear and from that fear a desire to make our Heavenly Father proud and from that desire realize that he is proud of us that that He does love us as much as He ever will. And then from that comes this unconditional, reciprocal, grateful love from us towards our Heavenly Father. But it has to start with fear. That's why it says the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. And I think that that gets a bad rap, this idea of fearing our God. Why would our God want us to be afraid of him? Why would he ask that of us? Because in the 21st century church, in American church, we skip fear and we go straight to the cross. We skip fear and we go right to Christmas and right to Easter. I am forgiven because he was forsaken. I'm accepted. He was condemned. And we get to move right to God. We get to move right into God's presence. We never experience the fear of him. It's like growing up with your grandfather when all he ever wants to do is spoil you. But you forget that your dad has to discipline you. We forget that. And we skip straight to love. And we forget to fear our God. We forget scenes like this in Exodus 19 where we should be awestruck by him and wonder and marvel at his largesse and at his might and at his wrath and at his vengeance and at his anger. Those don't make us comfortable, so we move on from them. But I believe that we cheapen our relationship with our Father God when we are not aware of them. So why does God insist that fear is the beginning of wisdom? And how can that be a good thing? A few points to this end. First of all, fear appreciates grace and mercy. Fear helps us appreciate grace and mercy. Here's what I mean. Back to the well of the cruise this week by way of illustration. This was a, my parents were saying, a once-in-a-lifetime trip for our family. My parents are big cruisers. They like to do it, and so they wanted to bring Amy and I, Amy's my sister, and our families along. And so we did the whole thing. And it was really nice, and Dad did it right. And we got to stay in a suite. And that's pretty, I'm not trying to brag, I'm just telling you that we stayed in a suite. It is pretty awesome. There was a curtain dividing our king-size bed from the height of bed, so that was fancy. And we had our own balcony and a chair that you could read on and watch the ocean, which was really, really cool. We had, there was a private suite lounge that your key card got you access to, and from 4.30 to 8, there's free Cokes, so it was awesome. We would go there every day and get Cokes before dinner because at dinner, if you wanted a Coke, they would upcharge you like $5.50 or something. So we'd go get a free Coke and then take that to dinner. But it was like a really nice experience. And at one point, we had told each of Jen and I each did a cruise when we were teenagers with our families. And at one point Lily said, uh, mommy and daddy, when you did cruises before, did you stay in rooms like this? And it was like, no, no, we stayed in an interior room that was tiny. It was like a cave and it was damp. And you had to shuffle sideways to get into bed because there's no space. And you slept sweaty against your sibling. That's what you did. All right. That was traveling when we were growing up. Because when we were growing up, we didn't have grandparents that had been moderately successful. So mom and dad had to foot the bill for vacations. Jen, growing up, went to vacation in Seaside Beach every year before Seaside Beach was bougie and awesome, back when it was just run down like all the beaches in North Carolina. I hate North Carolina beaches. And your barbecue sauce. I'm just throwing that out there. Yeah, I know. They got a house that was a few blocks off of the beach that somehow or another through the Southern Baptist Church relationship network, Jen's dad found this older lady, and he would come down. He was pretty handy. And in exchange for doing a certain amount of projects, his family could stay in the basement a few blocks off of the beach. So she grew up vacationing by trading handiwork for a location that was a bike ride away from the beach. And Lily's staying in a suite with free Cokes in the afternoon and a private dining room going, isn't this how everyone travels? And it's like, no, no, this is not how, this is not how rectors travel. Somebody gave us a courtside seats one time to an NC state game. And we were sitting, Lily and I were on the floor sitting behind the television announcer booth and they were turning around and interacting with her during the commercial breaks. And at one point in the game, I grabbed her and I said, Lily, do you see up there in the shadows the seats against the wall that are really high up and you can barely see? And she goes, yes. And I said, those are rector seats. Okay? These are not. Do not get used to this. But it was just funny to me, Daddy, did you stay in rooms like this when you were a kid? No. No, I didn't have rich grandparents. I stayed with the poor. I stayed in poor people rooms. And we went on one. And it was a treat. But she doesn't understand that. And that's something to work out. Something that Jen and I have to navigate. But to her, what we just did is normal. That's what we're used to. But because I stayed in the dank cabin cave when I was a kid, I can have a deeper appreciation for the sweet. Because it was like Lord of the Flies and I had to fight for one glass of water amongst a bunch of overweight people trying to get to the same trough when I was 16. I can appreciate access to water all I want on a ship. She can't appreciate that. She doesn't have that perspective. And my point is, New Testament Christians are a lot more like her than they are like the Old Testament Christians. New Testament Christians don't know what it is to fear God because we meet Jesus right away. We meet someone who describes himself as gentle and lowly. We don't know what it is to suffer. We don't know what it is to be fearful of God. We've never sat at the base of the mountain and watched it violently shake while we tremble with our friends at the might of our God because we go straight to the cross. We go straight to Christmas and we go straight to Easter and we see Jesus meek and mild. We are the rich billionaire trust fund babies of history born into this soft world where we never have to fear God. And so we read passages like this and they're foreign to us because that's not our God because our God comes meek and mild and, and he loves me, and he died for me, and he accepts me, and I call him Abba Father, and he calls me up into his lap. We forget the awful God that comes before that. We forget the fear-inspiring God that comes before that, and we end up acting like spoiled brats towards our God because we forget to fear him. So fear appreciates grace and mercy. When I have grappled with the reality that not only do I deserve a punishment for my sin and for my disloyalty to God, but that he is also highly capable of meeting that out and has chosen not to, and instead has chosen to show me grace and mercy in the form of his son and watched him die for my betrayal to him. It is only then when we swim in those waters and acquaint ourselves with that reality that we can properly appreciate grace and mercy. But we're so quick to jump to grace and mercy. And we figuratively ask our parents, has it always been like this? Did you travel like this when you were a kid? Because we're spoiled. And so I think that fear is good because it refocuses us on our gratitude for grace and mercy. And it shows us how important those things are. Fear is good because fear reminds us of our place. It reminds us of our place. When we say the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and we say this is actually a good thing. Why? Because it reminds us of our place. Jen pointed this out to me this week. Do you understand that the original sin in the Garden of Eden was essentially choosing to not be afraid of God anymore? It was losing this fear of God. The story goes that the serpent whispered into the ear of Eve. There was one tree. There was only one rule. God said, do whatever you want. Just don't eat fruit off of this one tree. And the serpent appears to Eve and speaks into her ear and says, do you know that God actually doesn't want you to eat of that tree? Because if you do, you'll know the difference between good and evil and you'll be like him. He's just trying to hold you down. He doesn't want you to be like he is and So what happened in the language of what we're talking about this morning is he whispered in Eve's ear You don't have to be afraid of him You can do what you want You don't have to fear God you are like him and so the original sin Was have to fear God. You are like him. And so the original sin was refusing to fear God at the beginning of wisdom. Do you see that? And I love the way that the Bible starts out, and this is why I say that fear helps us keep our place. The very first sentence of the Bible, do you know what it is? In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And I'm firmly convinced that it does not begin that way just because that's where the story starts. I'm firmly convinced that the Bible begins that way because it sets up from the very first sentence, the essential relationship in all creation. I am the creator, you are the created. All sin in our life is when we do this and we put ourselves on level with our creator. Anytime we sin, anytime we do anything that displeases God, all we've done is we've said, yeah, you're the creator, but I think I'm equal to you. So I'm not going to follow your rules. I'm going to follow mine. Everything in life that is messed up begins with a fundamental disjointment of this relationship where he says he is the creator and we are the creation and we go, nope, I'm not scared of you. This was the original sin of Eve. When the serpent whispered in her ear, you don't have to be afraid of him anymore. You are like him. And so she lost the fear of the Lord. So the fear of God keeps us in our place. It reminds us that he is all-powerful creator, and we are subservient creation. When Job got upset with God in that book, and he confronts him in Job 38, God's response is, hey Job, you forgot your place. So when we have fear of God, when we read Exodus 19 and we allow that to take us back to our nine-year-old selves and tremble at the might of our God, it also reminds us to keep our place. Last good thing I'll say about fear and why God insists on it is that fear makes knowledge a privilege. It makes knowledge of God a privilege. We presume that we should know who God is. We presume that we have a right to him. We presume that he should share himself with us. But that is not the case. Do you understand the miracle of the condescension of God? Do you understand what that is? Here is a figure that for the first time in history, since the garden of Eden descends onto a mountain, it burns with smoke. It shakes violently. It makes everyone around him tremble. And thousands of years later, he condescends by sending his son and our frail form to be with us, to sit in the muck and the mire. The miracle of God's condescension to us, to be one of us, to live as us, to be tempted as us, to love as us, and then to die as us for us. We start with Christmas and we start with Easter, so we take it for granted. But put yourself in the shoes of the people surrounding that mountain and imagine that thousands of years later, this being that's shaking the foundations of the earth and is causing fear and everyone that I know is going to send his son in human form to live the life of a pauper, to love me perfectly, to die perfectly, and to pave a way for me to get to know that cloud, Testament Christian mindset that grew up thinking that they always vacation in suites. That grows up thinking that God could never possibly be upset with me. He loves me. I'm forgiven. I'm concerned for the spoiled Christians that don't take time to understand what it means to fear their God and how mighty and awesome he is. I'm concerned for the church as life chips away at our wonder and we're no longer scared of water slides because we can explain it all away. And I just thought it was worth it this morning to try my best. And I don't mean this in any disrespectful way. But to try my best to grab your face and make you look at the might and the wonder and the awe of your God. For once, before we skip to Easter and we skip to Christmas. Look how wonderful and terrifying and miraculous he is. And let's be grateful that he uses that for us, not against us. That he chooses to love us. That he chooses to save us, that he chooses to condescend to be a part of us. We cannot read Exodus and see God descend on Mount Sinai and not pause and acknowledge that we are spoiled spiritual brats that do not often enough reflect on the awe-inspiring wonder, might, and wrath of God. And so this morning, let us do that. And may we always see ourselves at the foot of the mountain. And in so doing, come to appreciate all the things we love about our Heavenly Father all the more. Because I think so often we skip to the things we love about our God and we forget this foundation of fear that is the very beginning of wisdom that deepens our appreciation for him. So may we this morning together sit at the base of the mountain and tremble. Let's pray. Father, thank you for this morning. Thank you for what you chose to do with the Israelites in descending upon Mount Sinai. God, I'm not sure why you chose to reveal yourself in that way. I'm not even sure we've handled it the way it needs to be handled this morning, but I know, God, it gives me pause. I know, Father, it makes me wonder at you. And I hope that just a little bit of that wonder was communicated. And I hope that we are moved by it. I hope that we will not be so inoculated by your love that we forget your wrath. God, give us a deep appreciation for that so that we may approach you with more gratitude. So that we might marvel at the fact that you love us, that you know us, that you care about us, and that you're proud of us. God, help us more and more to see ourselves at the foot of that mountain, marveling at who and what you are. In Jesus' name, amen.
