Luke

Well, good morning, everybody. Thank you for being here. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten the chance to meet you, I'd love to do that in the lobby after the service. Just right up front, I've been getting a lot of flack this morning for going halfsies on my Christmas spirit. I understand that. But listen, I tried on everything last night, and I am doing you a public service by not wearing those bottoms. All right? This is for you. It's not for me. I'd be more comfortable in those, but I made a decision for the betterment of the church, and I would appreciate if you could respect that choice. Now, we are in part two of our series called Twas the Night, where we're looking at the story of Christmas, largely based in Luke chapter two, and we're looking at it from different perspectives within that story to see what we can learn from them and their experience within the Christmas story. And so last week, we looked at Simeon's reaction to Jesus and the innkeeper's reaction to Jesus. We juxtaposed those and kind of learned a bit from those two perspectives. Next week, we're going to look at Joseph and his humble, quiet, consistent obedience and what we can learn from that. And then Christmas Eve, we're going to look at Mary. There's this verse tucked away at the end of the Christmas narrative, towards the end of chapter 2, that I really, really love where there's this joy that's almost, words would cheapen it, this joy that Mary experiences. So we're going to look at that verse for Christmas Eve, and I'm very excited for the Christmas Eve service and message that we get to share with you that day. Today, we're going to look at the Christmas story from the perspective of the wise men. Now, I'll give credit where it's due. Aaron Gibson and I went on a little retreat in September to go ahead and plan out the Christmas series and figure out what we were going to do. The idea for this morning and what we're talking about this morning comes from him. So if it's good, tell him so. If it's not, let's just assume that there was an issue with the delivery and he needs to choose a better messenger or just hold his good ideas and preach them himself. But this morning I want to look at the perspective of the wise men. Now we don't read about the wise men in Luke chapter 2. We see them in Matthew chapter 2. And I'm actually not going to turn to either of those today. I'm going to be in John chapter 6. So if you brought your Bible like I've been asking you to do, you can go ahead and turn to John 6. If you don't have one with you, there's one in the seat back in front of you. Please excuse me. I've been, I got a sinus infection that turned into a cough. I've been fighting it off for a week. I'm not contagious, but I am on about four different cough suppressants. So if I say something crazy, that's why. We see the wise men in Matthew chapter 2. And I like to point out, I don't know why I like to point out, I just do, that the wise men were more than likely not actually at the manger scene. The nativity scene that we have that we put in our houses and everything. We went to a live nativity at another church last night. Did a phenomenal job. The wise men were more than likely not there. Okay? Their story is they saw a star and they were told by God to go follow that star. And I think this is worth pointing out and amazing. It's not the point, but it's something that I didn't want to just blow past. That the wise men are even involved in the story of Christmas. Because I'll get into why later, but they're from very far away. They are not from Israel. They are not Hebrew people. They are not descendants of Abraham. It is very, very unlikely that the Jewish tradition had made its way to wherever they called home. And yet, without any religious infrastructure at all, without any holy texts at all, they somehow recognize the voice of God, the God that we worship, the God that Mary and Joseph worship. They heard that voice, identified that voice, and were obedient to that voice. When we read the Bible, the narrative focuses way down on Abraham's family and then on Israel and what happens in Israel, as if God's scope of evangelism and love and care and speaking isn't worldwide all the time. And we get these little glimpses throughout scripture like Melchizedek in the Old Testament that it's actually true that God is speaking outside of Israel to those who will listen. It reminds me of Romans 1 where it says that God reveals himself to all men in nature so that no man is without excuse. Somehow, some way, these wise men with no no religious structure at all, heard the voice of God, identified it, obeyed it. They go to Jerusalem. They're following the star. The star leads them to Jerusalem. They get to Jerusalem, and this is all in Matthew 2. You can check me if you need to. I would always encourage that. But they get to Jerusalem where Jesus is not there. He's either in Bethlehem or he's in Nazareth. He's not in Jerusalem. And they go to Herod, the king, because they don't know where else to go. And they say, hey, we're here to worship. The Savior's been born. We're here to worship him. Do you know where he is? And Herod is threatened by this because he knows somewhere in the annals of his brain that when this Messiah comes, he's going to be the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. And Herod erroneously thinks he's going to try to sit on my throne, to which Jesus is like, I'm not interested in your throne. That's very small potatoes. Don't care. But Herod thinks he's going to try to take his stuff. And so Herod responds with an edict to kill all the boys in Israel aged two and younger, which is one of the more horrific evil edicts that we see in the whole Bible. Herod was evil. And I have a two and a half year old son. I can't imagine what it would be to be one of the soldiers that had to carry out those directives. Awful, awful stuff. But he says this, Herod does, to kill all the baby boys, age two or younger, we're told in Matthew 2, because of the timing of the journey of the wise men. What this means is, more than likely, the wise men were following that star for two years. Could be more, could be less. Could be a year, could be nine months. We don't know when the star appeared. And the star could have appeared two years in advance of Jesus' birth. And then they showed up at the time. We don't know that for sure, except for when they appear, when they go in to see Joseph and Mary, it says that they entered into the house. Not the manger, but the house. So they're probably in Nazareth, meaning Jesus is probably a toddler by this point. At which point they give him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And Johnny, my two-year-old, has just been beating me up for myrrh this Christmas. So they were on point with those gifts. But it took two years to get where they were going. I want you to imagine that. They're from very far east. We do not know where. India is possible. China is possible. Iran, Iraq, one of the stands. Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Afghanistan, Pakistan. One of the stands could be. And they journeyed for two years. Based on a voice of God that they heard that said, follow this star. Maybe they were nomadic people and so journeying wasn't a huge deal, but they're still rearranging their whole life. A lot of scholars believe they were just wealthy individuals and they brought their caravan with them. We don't know how many wise men there were. We just know that there was more than one. We usually say three because of the three gifts, but that's really not indicative of the total number. And so they load up, presumably on camels, and they travel for maybe as long as two years. And this was the point that Gibson made that I thought was a really interesting insight. What if you could talk to the wise men on that journey? What if you could ask them, hey, guys, where are you going? You know what their answer would be? We don't really know. Where are you going? We're not sure. Well, how do you even know where to go? God, do you see that star? Yeah, I think so. Yeah, God told us to follow that one. Are you getting any closer to it? Not really. No, it just stays right there. We just kind of walk during the day and hope at night, still in front of us. When are you going to get there? Like, how long is this journey? Yeah, I couldn't tell you. I don't know. We're just walking. I think that's amazing. To go to the wise men during that journey and say, where are you going? Not sure. How do you know where to go? God told us to follow that star. When are you going to get there? We don't know. I don't want to be too critical, but I'd be willing to bet that very few people in this room have that kind of faith. And yet, when we look at the journey of the wise men, I believe all of us have that faith because that faith is the Christian faith. I believe that the wise men personify this statement. The Christian journey is following God in the midst of uncertainty. The Christian journey itself is to follow God in the midst of uncertainty. It's to not be able to see the whole path and yet take the steps that are illuminated in front of us. Isn't this what we were taught when we were young? If you grew up in church, you heard the Psalm. I think in either 109 or, you heard the psalm, thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. And I was taught at ages, you know, three, four, five, six years old, when you're in the woods and it's dark, you're outside and it's dark, and you have a lantern or a lamp next to you, how many steps can you see? Just a couple. You can't see the whole path. You can't see the whole trail. And so I carry, you carry with you, if you grow up in church, you carry with you this understanding, this intellectual, this mental consent that yes, God is never going to illuminate the whole path for me. It's always going to be just a couple of steps. He's never going to give me all the clarity I want. He's just going to give me the clarity I need to take the next step or two of obedience. And this is what the wise men personify. Could they see the whole path? No. Did they know where they were going? No. Had they heard of the nation of Israel before? No, nobody knows. Maybe, maybe not. They didn't know who they were going to find or what they were going to do. They were just going in obedience, taking the next step. Today, we can see the star, so today we're going to follow it. Are we going to get there tomorrow? Maybe, don't know. The Christian journey is to follow God in the midst of uncertainty. It's to not understand everything and yet choose to follow him anyways. I think maybe the best depiction of this in the whole Bible is in John chapter 6. In this discourse, this dialogue that Jesus has with Peter. I think it's a remarkable dialogue. We're going to pick it up in verse 66. And the verse is preceding. Jesus is teaching the people in the synagogue at Capernaum. And he's telling them. And he tells them in about three or four different ways. But he's telling them, if you want to follow me, you have to eat of my flesh and drink of my blood. If you do not eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, then you have no place with me and you cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. That's what Jesus teaches. It is a weird, cultish, cannibalistic teaching. It's weird. And he gives them no context. See, we know, we know that what Jesus is talking about is communion. We understand that. If you don't know what communion is, it's the tradition where we break bread and we dip it in the grape juice or the wine or you sip it or however your church or your tradition does it. So we know that Jesus is, that's an allusion to communion. But they don't know that because they've never experienced communion. And Jesus says, unless you cannibalize me, you cannot be a part of me or enter into the kingdom. And then people started to leave and go, yo, dude, that's really weird. And we pick the story up. John chapter 6, verse 66. Now I'd pause there because that could be confusing. When we think of disciples, we immediately think of the 12 disciples. But what we know is that there was probably as many as 120 people that were constantly following Jesus everywhere. And we know this in part because in Acts, when they go to replace Judas as a disciple, they ultimately named Matthias to be the 12th disciple, the replacement disciple for Judas. And one of the requirements to be eligible to be that disciple is to have been with them from the beginning. So Jesus has disciples outside of the 12. The 12 is like his inner circle. The three, Peter, James, and John are like his inner, inner circle. But then there's other disciples on the perimeter that are following too. And when he says this, the disciples on the perimeter begin to leave. We'll pick it up in verse 68. Do you want to go as well? Verse 68, Simon Peter answered him. And listen, I love these words. I don't have a tattoo. If I get one, it'll be these words. Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and I have come to know that you are the Holy One of God. I love that answer. I love it so much because it's so very human. It's so very honest. Jesus says this incredibly hard teaching that does not make sense to anyone. And people who have been following him for months and years leave. And he looks at his inner circle. And he says, are you guys going to leave too? And Peter responds, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know that you are the Holy One of God. Now this is just my interpretation of the subtext here, of what's laying under these statements of Peter. There seems to be an implicit agreement of Peter with the ones who left. You can see the tension in Peter. Listen, Jesus says, are you going to go too? And I paraphrase this response as going, listen, what you just said is weird. It's weird. I do not want to cannibalize you. I don't want to drink your blood. That's weird. That's cultish. It doesn't make any sense. I hope I don't have to do that. Jesus, you make absolutely no sense to me right now. And frankly, it's weird. But here's what I know. I know that you are who you say you are. I know that you're Jesus. I know that you have the words of eternal life. You have claimed to be the Holy One, and I believe you. And because I believe you, and because I trust you are who you are, where else am I going to go? I'm in. Jesus, this doesn't make sense to me. I don't follow it. That's not how I would have done it. I think this is weird, but you're Jesus. I know that you are. I believe you. I trust you. I'm in. I love that sentiment from Peter. Because frankly, if you haven't gotten to that point in your faith where you've had to choose to to follow Jesus even when he doesn't make sense, then I would tell you gently and humbly that I believe your faith still has some maturing to do. Because everyone of faith, everyone of faith comes to that moment where Jesus doesn't make any sense to them. That shouldn't have happened. That man is a good man. Why did that happen to him? My father was a good man. He shouldn't have died, and he did. That child never did anything, and God allowed them to get leukemia and wither away. Why did he do that? If Jesus is who he says he is, then why are these things true in my life? I've been living my life according to the standards of God, and I want the blessings that other people have who don't live like I do. I'm a good person. Why can't I have what I want? Jesus, this doesn't make any sense. Jesus, you could have healed this person that I love. I know you could have. And they love you? It doesn't make any sense. I told you guys a few weeks back, a friend of mine, 40 years old, two kids, died. Jesus, you could have prevented that death. You didn't. And so at some point, we find ourselves in the position of Peter saying, Jesus, you don't make any sense to me. And I don't see the whole path here. But I'm going to choose to trust you because I know who you are. Because I'm a Christian. And being a Christian is to believe that Jesus is who he says he is. He's the son of God. He did what he said he did. He lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death, and he raised on the third day. And he's going to do what he says he's going to do. He's going to come back one day to claim his people and to make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. To be a Christian is to believe that. And so Peter says, you don't make any sense to me right now, but I'm a Christian, so I'm in. I was thinking about this this morning as I was going through things. Can you imagine the light bulb moment that communion was for Peter? Can you imagine him sitting around that table as long as one to two years after this exchange with Jesus? Because this is towards the beginning of his ministry. So as many as two years later, Jesus is sitting around the communion table, or Peter's sitting around the Passover table about to observe the first communion. He doesn't know what communion is. Jesus breaks the bread and tells them to eat it. And he pours the wine and he tells them to drink it. And Peter goes, oh, and he still doesn't know what it is because the next day Jesus actually dies for him. And he's like, well, this stinks. Everything's over. And he wanders back and he goes to fish. And then the resurrected Jesus shows up and makes him breakfast. And he's like, hey, do you love me? Yes. Do you love me? Yes. Do you love me? Yes. Okay, go feed my sheep. You're reinstated. Go do it, Peter. What a light bulb moment for Peter in this moment with no context. Because Jesus doesn't explain it. He does not explain the cannibalism. He just drops it on them. You still going to follow me? You still trust me? Great. And then he goes. And for two years, he doesn't come back to it and address it. And then one day he's at a table and he breaks the bread and Peter goes, oh. God never gives us the clarity we want in the moment. But he always gives us what we need. And if we stick in there, we get light bulb moments too. And both of these stories, the story of the wise men just following the star, okay, that's what I'm going to do. The story of the disenfranchised disciple. You make no sense to me, but I'm in because I know who you are. Highlight what I believe is God's fundamental ask of all humanity. God's fundamental ask is simply that we would trust him. God's fundamental ask of people from the beginning of time is that we would trust him. Just listen to me. Just trust me. Just hear my voice and respond in obedience like the wise men do who don't need a religious apparatus to discern the voice of God and be obedient to it. Just follow me like that. Isn't that what he asked of Adam and Eve? Hey, there's a tree. Don't eat it. Just trust me on this one. And they didn't trust him. Isn't that what he asked of Abraham? The father of his children is in Ur, the land of the Chaldeans, probably the Sumerian dynasty. And God appears to him. God speaks to him. I don't know if he appeared to him, but he speaks to him. And he says, I want you to pack up your stuff and quote, go to the place where I will show you. To this place called Israel that Abraham's never heard of, the land of Canaan at the time that no one's ever heard of. And he meets someone there named Melchizedek, who is the high priest and the king of a city called Salem that would later become Jerusalem, who has heard the voice of God and is obeying him outside of any religious apparatus, outside of the focus of the narrative scripture, of the narrative text of the gospel, just out there obeying God. And Abraham goes to him, not knowing where he's going, arrives, and God's just illuminating one step by one step. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Then he gives him a son. He says, I want you to go sacrifice this son. Three days journey away on a random hill. And he gets up the next day and he goes. And he's at the bottom of the hill, and a lot of scholars believe that Abraham did not know how he was going to walk back down that mountain with his living son, but he believed that he would. And so he went. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Moses, wandering the desert for 40 years, stumbles upon, as a shepherd, stumbles upon the burning bush. This is in Exodus chapters 2 and 3, two of the greatest chapters in the Bible. And God appears to him in the burning bush, and he says, I want you to go to the most powerful man in the world, and I want you to tell him to let my people go based on zero authority whatsoever. And Moses is like, okay, I've got questions. And he asks him five clarifying questions. What's your name? Why are they going to believe me? I have a stutter that seems like an issue. No one's going to listen to me. Five different questions. Five times, God says, don't worry about that, trust me. Don't worry about that, trust me. What's your name? Don't worry about that, trust me. I have a stutter, don't worry about that, trust me. Just trust me, just trust me. How's it going to work out, God? I'm not going to tell you. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. All through scripture. David, anointed king. You're going to be the next king. You're the chosen one. Man after God's own heart. As probably an adolescent kid. He waits 20 years before he ascends to the throne. God, when's it going to happen? The current king's trying to kill me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Why did God wait so long to give the Ten Commandments? He could have, he could have, once Adam and Eve broke the rules, he could have said, okay, here's the new rules. He waits generation after generation after generation, a couple thousand years before he says, fine, here's the rules. What I'd really like for you to do is trust me and obey me without the rules, but since you need rules, here are the rules. And then Jesus shows up and he says, we don't need those rules anymore. Love God, trust him. Love God, trust him, be obedient by loving others. Just trust me, just trust me, just trust me. Have you ever thought about the fact that Jesus could have sat down with the disciples and we, especially those of us who are business and strategy minded, would, those of us, like I'm business and strategy minded, those of you, we would think that the best possible thing for Jesus to do would be to recruit the disciples, test them for a few months to make sure they're all the way in, and then bring them into a meeting and sit them down and say, all right, boys, listen, here's the deal. And for Jesus to lay out every step of the strategy, doesn't that make so much sense? Hey, I'm going to be here for about three more years. The whole time, I'm going to show you how to do ministry. I'm going to show you how to love on people. I'm going to teach you this new rule of loving others the way that I've loved you. I'm going to show you what it is to love people. And then you guys think I'm going to be a physical king. I'm not. I'm going to be an eternal king. I don't care about that throne. It's small potatoes. I don't need it. So quit trying to make me be king. This is the kind of king I'm going to be. I'm going to be an eternal king. And at the end of the three years, after I've shown you how to live and love perfectly, I'm going to have given you all the tools to build what I'm going to call the church. What's the church, Jesus? Well, let me explain to you what the church is going to be. He could have explained all this. And he could have said, at the end of three years, I'm going to be arrested and it's going to be an unfair trial and I'm going to die. You should watch me die. And honestly, you should celebrate it because it's ushering in the next part of the plan. That's how I'm paying for you guys to get to heaven. It's an okay thing when I die. And don't worry about it because I'm going to be buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea and I'm going to be raised on the third day. You guys can come hang out with me if you want. And then I'm going to stick around for about 40 days and I'm going to go into heaven because my job's done and I'm going to hand you the keys to the kingdom. So the next three years of your life, pay attention, write down notes, ask me all the questions you need because I'm going to give you this thing. Tell me that doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he do that? It makes so much sense. It makes sense to us because we're stupid. That was not the way that Jesus did it. He didn't tell them the plan. He didn't explain to them the death. He let them believe he was going to be an earthly king. He illuminated one step at a time. Go into this city and perform these miracles. Go over there and tell them about me. Follow me here and listen to my teaching. Now you can answer, now you can ask me questions. Take this bread and eat it. He never illuminates the whole path. He never explains everything to them. He just beckons them to trust him. And God has the same ask of you. Trust him. Hang in there. Believe him. Be like Peter. And those moments when your faith doesn't make any sense, where something happens in your life that doesn't have a nice, neat, satisfying box to put it in and categorize it and explain it to others and justify it, when that happens, when something outside of your boxes and your theology and your understanding, when that happens and tears it down, and we sit in the midst of confusion and uncertainty, Jesus, why'd you let that happen? Why did it turn out this way? Why am I struggling with this? Why won't you rescue me from that? When we sit in that uncertainty, no, God designed and intended that uncertainty. He's never, ever given anyone the full path. He's never, ever illuminated more than a couple steps for anyone in their life. He simply beckons us to trust him. And I love that word and that concept of trust because it has so many tendrils, doesn't it? Don't just trust me with your faith. Trust me with your family. Do for your family what I think is best for them. Not, not what you think is best for them. See, when we trust somebody, what we do is we choose their judgment over our own. When I trust the finance committee, I trust their expertise over my expertise, which is none in that area. When we trust someone, we choose them over ourselves. So God says in every way, choose my expertise over your own, and I promise you it will work out. Simply trust me. Trust me with your morals and with your values. Trust me with your money. I've asked you to give a bottom line of 10%. Be generous people and give. Trust me with that. It's going to be best for you. Trust me with your children. Trust me with your marriage. Trust me with your career. Trust me with your priorities. Trust me with your calendar. Trust me. Just believe me. Trust me. Take the steps I'm illuminating for you. And I promise, I promise, I promise it will be better for you. The more we can trust God in the midst of uncertainty, the more light bulb moments we get like Peter sitting at communion going, this is why God, okay. And tell me that doesn't strengthen faith when you have those moments. And here's what happens when we choose to trust God in the midst of uncertainty. We make that a pattern in our life. God rewards our trust with a full life and perfect eternity. God rewards that trust with a full life and a perfect eternity. I chose that phrase full life there on purpose because one of my favorite verses I've said to you before, John 10, 10, the thief comes to steal and to kill and to destroy, but I have come, Jesus is speaking. I have come that you might have life and have it to the full. Jesus says he came to give us the most full life possible. Not the wealthiest life. Not the healthiest life. Not the most comfortable life. I'm reminded of that quote from, I believe it's Chronicles of Narnia, where they're talking about the Jesus figure, Aslam, I think. And they say, is he safe? And the response is, oh, no, he is not safe. But he is good. Jesus invites us into that goodness. Do you trust me? Do you trust me? Do you trust me? Because if you do, if you choose my judgment over yours, he will give us in this life the most full life possible, the best life we can imagine if we'll simply trust him. The problem is we hold back parts of our life because we think in our judgment, with our values, with our morals, and with what we do, that we can make little pockets of our life better and more comfortable and more enjoyable than what Jesus can do. No, no, no, I'm not going to trust you with that because I like what I'm doing right here. And Jesus says, if you'll just trust me and hand me that too, I promise there will be a more full life around the corner. I promise you there will be a deeper peace, a deeper happiness, a deeper joy if you'll simply hand that to me too. So here's my question for you this morning. Where can you trust God more? Where are you holding back from him? What are you keeping to yourself and not choosing to be like the wise men and humble, faithful, consistent obedience? Where are you going? I don't know. When are you going to get there? I'm not sure. How do you know where to go? I'm just following God. Where can we choose to trust God more and trust his judgment over our own? And I would also encourage you, if you're one who's sitting in the midst of uncertainty, Jesus, this is happening in my life and I don't understand it. You could fix it and you're not. And honestly, Jesus, it kind of makes me frustrated with you. Okay. Be like Peter. Are you going to leave Jesus because of it? No. You're the son of God. You have the words of eternal life and I believe you. Where else am I going to go? And I promise you, you'll have your aha moment if you trust him. And you'll usher in a full life and a perfect eternity. So this morning, let's trust God like the wise men did and just take the step of obedience that's in front of us. Let's pray. Father, we love you this morning. We love you always. We trust you. Help us to trust you more. God, I'm reminded of the simple prayer, I believe, help my unbelief. Lord, if there are those who are sitting in the midst of uncertainty, who feel disillusioned like the disciples that thought cannibalism was a part of the deal, God, would you give them the faith of Peter to hang in there, to trust you, even when they're not certain and don't understand everything they feel like they need to understand. God, for those of us who are holding back parts of our lives, who are choosing our judgment in places over yours, would you give us the strength and the faith to trust you, to believe you? That things are only going to be better when we hand them to you? Would you give us the remarkable faith of the wise men who journeyed to an unknown place for two years simply trusting? And as we do that, as we take those steps and as we trust you, would you help us to see you? Would you show up in those places and reassure us? In Jesus' name, amen.

Well, good morning, everybody. Thank you for being here. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. If I haven't gotten the chance to meet you, I'd love to do that in the lobby after the service. Just right up front, I've been getting a lot of flack this morning for going halfsies on my Christmas spirit. I understand that. But listen, I tried on everything last night, and I am doing you a public service by not wearing those bottoms. All right? This is for you. It's not for me. I'd be more comfortable in those, but I made a decision for the betterment of the church, and I would appreciate if you could respect that choice. Now, we are in part two of our series called Twas the Night, where we're looking at the story of Christmas, largely based in Luke chapter two, and we're looking at it from different perspectives within that story to see what we can learn from them and their experience within the Christmas story. And so last week, we looked at Simeon's reaction to Jesus and the innkeeper's reaction to Jesus. We juxtaposed those and kind of learned a bit from those two perspectives. Next week, we're going to look at Joseph and his humble, quiet, consistent obedience and what we can learn from that. And then Christmas Eve, we're going to look at Mary. There's this verse tucked away at the end of the Christmas narrative, towards the end of chapter 2, that I really, really love where there's this joy that's almost, words would cheapen it, this joy that Mary experiences. So we're going to look at that verse for Christmas Eve, and I'm very excited for the Christmas Eve service and message that we get to share with you that day. Today, we're going to look at the Christmas story from the perspective of the wise men. Now, I'll give credit where it's due. Aaron Gibson and I went on a little retreat in September to go ahead and plan out the Christmas series and figure out what we were going to do. The idea for this morning and what we're talking about this morning comes from him. So if it's good, tell him so. If it's not, let's just assume that there was an issue with the delivery and he needs to choose a better messenger or just hold his good ideas and preach them himself. But this morning I want to look at the perspective of the wise men. Now we don't read about the wise men in Luke chapter 2. We see them in Matthew chapter 2. And I'm actually not going to turn to either of those today. I'm going to be in John chapter 6. So if you brought your Bible like I've been asking you to do, you can go ahead and turn to John 6. If you don't have one with you, there's one in the seat back in front of you. Please excuse me. I've been, I got a sinus infection that turned into a cough. I've been fighting it off for a week. I'm not contagious, but I am on about four different cough suppressants. So if I say something crazy, that's why. We see the wise men in Matthew chapter 2. And I like to point out, I don't know why I like to point out, I just do, that the wise men were more than likely not actually at the manger scene. The nativity scene that we have that we put in our houses and everything. We went to a live nativity at another church last night. Did a phenomenal job. The wise men were more than likely not there. Okay? Their story is they saw a star and they were told by God to go follow that star. And I think this is worth pointing out and amazing. It's not the point, but it's something that I didn't want to just blow past. That the wise men are even involved in the story of Christmas. Because I'll get into why later, but they're from very far away. They are not from Israel. They are not Hebrew people. They are not descendants of Abraham. It is very, very unlikely that the Jewish tradition had made its way to wherever they called home. And yet, without any religious infrastructure at all, without any holy texts at all, they somehow recognize the voice of God, the God that we worship, the God that Mary and Joseph worship. They heard that voice, identified that voice, and were obedient to that voice. When we read the Bible, the narrative focuses way down on Abraham's family and then on Israel and what happens in Israel, as if God's scope of evangelism and love and care and speaking isn't worldwide all the time. And we get these little glimpses throughout scripture like Melchizedek in the Old Testament that it's actually true that God is speaking outside of Israel to those who will listen. It reminds me of Romans 1 where it says that God reveals himself to all men in nature so that no man is without excuse. Somehow, some way, these wise men with no no religious structure at all, heard the voice of God, identified it, obeyed it. They go to Jerusalem. They're following the star. The star leads them to Jerusalem. They get to Jerusalem, and this is all in Matthew 2. You can check me if you need to. I would always encourage that. But they get to Jerusalem where Jesus is not there. He's either in Bethlehem or he's in Nazareth. He's not in Jerusalem. And they go to Herod, the king, because they don't know where else to go. And they say, hey, we're here to worship. The Savior's been born. We're here to worship him. Do you know where he is? And Herod is threatened by this because he knows somewhere in the annals of his brain that when this Messiah comes, he's going to be the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. And Herod erroneously thinks he's going to try to sit on my throne, to which Jesus is like, I'm not interested in your throne. That's very small potatoes. Don't care. But Herod thinks he's going to try to take his stuff. And so Herod responds with an edict to kill all the boys in Israel aged two and younger, which is one of the more horrific evil edicts that we see in the whole Bible. Herod was evil. And I have a two and a half year old son. I can't imagine what it would be to be one of the soldiers that had to carry out those directives. Awful, awful stuff. But he says this, Herod does, to kill all the baby boys, age two or younger, we're told in Matthew 2, because of the timing of the journey of the wise men. What this means is, more than likely, the wise men were following that star for two years. Could be more, could be less. Could be a year, could be nine months. We don't know when the star appeared. And the star could have appeared two years in advance of Jesus' birth. And then they showed up at the time. We don't know that for sure, except for when they appear, when they go in to see Joseph and Mary, it says that they entered into the house. Not the manger, but the house. So they're probably in Nazareth, meaning Jesus is probably a toddler by this point. At which point they give him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And Johnny, my two-year-old, has just been beating me up for myrrh this Christmas. So they were on point with those gifts. But it took two years to get where they were going. I want you to imagine that. They're from very far east. We do not know where. India is possible. China is possible. Iran, Iraq, one of the stands. Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Afghanistan, Pakistan. One of the stands could be. And they journeyed for two years. Based on a voice of God that they heard that said, follow this star. Maybe they were nomadic people and so journeying wasn't a huge deal, but they're still rearranging their whole life. A lot of scholars believe they were just wealthy individuals and they brought their caravan with them. We don't know how many wise men there were. We just know that there was more than one. We usually say three because of the three gifts, but that's really not indicative of the total number. And so they load up, presumably on camels, and they travel for maybe as long as two years. And this was the point that Gibson made that I thought was a really interesting insight. What if you could talk to the wise men on that journey? What if you could ask them, hey, guys, where are you going? You know what their answer would be? We don't really know. Where are you going? We're not sure. Well, how do you even know where to go? God, do you see that star? Yeah, I think so. Yeah, God told us to follow that one. Are you getting any closer to it? Not really. No, it just stays right there. We just kind of walk during the day and hope at night, still in front of us. When are you going to get there? Like, how long is this journey? Yeah, I couldn't tell you. I don't know. We're just walking. I think that's amazing. To go to the wise men during that journey and say, where are you going? Not sure. How do you know where to go? God told us to follow that star. When are you going to get there? We don't know. I don't want to be too critical, but I'd be willing to bet that very few people in this room have that kind of faith. And yet, when we look at the journey of the wise men, I believe all of us have that faith because that faith is the Christian faith. I believe that the wise men personify this statement. The Christian journey is following God in the midst of uncertainty. The Christian journey itself is to follow God in the midst of uncertainty. It's to not be able to see the whole path and yet take the steps that are illuminated in front of us. Isn't this what we were taught when we were young? If you grew up in church, you heard the Psalm. I think in either 109 or, you heard the psalm, thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. And I was taught at ages, you know, three, four, five, six years old, when you're in the woods and it's dark, you're outside and it's dark, and you have a lantern or a lamp next to you, how many steps can you see? Just a couple. You can't see the whole path. You can't see the whole trail. And so I carry, you carry with you, if you grow up in church, you carry with you this understanding, this intellectual, this mental consent that yes, God is never going to illuminate the whole path for me. It's always going to be just a couple of steps. He's never going to give me all the clarity I want. He's just going to give me the clarity I need to take the next step or two of obedience. And this is what the wise men personify. Could they see the whole path? No. Did they know where they were going? No. Had they heard of the nation of Israel before? No, nobody knows. Maybe, maybe not. They didn't know who they were going to find or what they were going to do. They were just going in obedience, taking the next step. Today, we can see the star, so today we're going to follow it. Are we going to get there tomorrow? Maybe, don't know. The Christian journey is to follow God in the midst of uncertainty. It's to not understand everything and yet choose to follow him anyways. I think maybe the best depiction of this in the whole Bible is in John chapter 6. In this discourse, this dialogue that Jesus has with Peter. I think it's a remarkable dialogue. We're going to pick it up in verse 66. And the verse is preceding. Jesus is teaching the people in the synagogue at Capernaum. And he's telling them. And he tells them in about three or four different ways. But he's telling them, if you want to follow me, you have to eat of my flesh and drink of my blood. If you do not eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, then you have no place with me and you cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. That's what Jesus teaches. It is a weird, cultish, cannibalistic teaching. It's weird. And he gives them no context. See, we know, we know that what Jesus is talking about is communion. We understand that. If you don't know what communion is, it's the tradition where we break bread and we dip it in the grape juice or the wine or you sip it or however your church or your tradition does it. So we know that Jesus is, that's an allusion to communion. But they don't know that because they've never experienced communion. And Jesus says, unless you cannibalize me, you cannot be a part of me or enter into the kingdom. And then people started to leave and go, yo, dude, that's really weird. And we pick the story up. John chapter 6, verse 66. Now I'd pause there because that could be confusing. When we think of disciples, we immediately think of the 12 disciples. But what we know is that there was probably as many as 120 people that were constantly following Jesus everywhere. And we know this in part because in Acts, when they go to replace Judas as a disciple, they ultimately named Matthias to be the 12th disciple, the replacement disciple for Judas. And one of the requirements to be eligible to be that disciple is to have been with them from the beginning. So Jesus has disciples outside of the 12. The 12 is like his inner circle. The three, Peter, James, and John are like his inner, inner circle. But then there's other disciples on the perimeter that are following too. And when he says this, the disciples on the perimeter begin to leave. We'll pick it up in verse 68. Do you want to go as well? Verse 68, Simon Peter answered him. And listen, I love these words. I don't have a tattoo. If I get one, it'll be these words. Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and I have come to know that you are the Holy One of God. I love that answer. I love it so much because it's so very human. It's so very honest. Jesus says this incredibly hard teaching that does not make sense to anyone. And people who have been following him for months and years leave. And he looks at his inner circle. And he says, are you guys going to leave too? And Peter responds, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know that you are the Holy One of God. Now this is just my interpretation of the subtext here, of what's laying under these statements of Peter. There seems to be an implicit agreement of Peter with the ones who left. You can see the tension in Peter. Listen, Jesus says, are you going to go too? And I paraphrase this response as going, listen, what you just said is weird. It's weird. I do not want to cannibalize you. I don't want to drink your blood. That's weird. That's cultish. It doesn't make any sense. I hope I don't have to do that. Jesus, you make absolutely no sense to me right now. And frankly, it's weird. But here's what I know. I know that you are who you say you are. I know that you're Jesus. I know that you have the words of eternal life. You have claimed to be the Holy One, and I believe you. And because I believe you, and because I trust you are who you are, where else am I going to go? I'm in. Jesus, this doesn't make sense to me. I don't follow it. That's not how I would have done it. I think this is weird, but you're Jesus. I know that you are. I believe you. I trust you. I'm in. I love that sentiment from Peter. Because frankly, if you haven't gotten to that point in your faith where you've had to choose to to follow Jesus even when he doesn't make sense, then I would tell you gently and humbly that I believe your faith still has some maturing to do. Because everyone of faith, everyone of faith comes to that moment where Jesus doesn't make any sense to them. That shouldn't have happened. That man is a good man. Why did that happen to him? My father was a good man. He shouldn't have died, and he did. That child never did anything, and God allowed them to get leukemia and wither away. Why did he do that? If Jesus is who he says he is, then why are these things true in my life? I've been living my life according to the standards of God, and I want the blessings that other people have who don't live like I do. I'm a good person. Why can't I have what I want? Jesus, this doesn't make any sense. Jesus, you could have healed this person that I love. I know you could have. And they love you? It doesn't make any sense. I told you guys a few weeks back, a friend of mine, 40 years old, two kids, died. Jesus, you could have prevented that death. You didn't. And so at some point, we find ourselves in the position of Peter saying, Jesus, you don't make any sense to me. And I don't see the whole path here. But I'm going to choose to trust you because I know who you are. Because I'm a Christian. And being a Christian is to believe that Jesus is who he says he is. He's the son of God. He did what he said he did. He lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death, and he raised on the third day. And he's going to do what he says he's going to do. He's going to come back one day to claim his people and to make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. To be a Christian is to believe that. And so Peter says, you don't make any sense to me right now, but I'm a Christian, so I'm in. I was thinking about this this morning as I was going through things. Can you imagine the light bulb moment that communion was for Peter? Can you imagine him sitting around that table as long as one to two years after this exchange with Jesus? Because this is towards the beginning of his ministry. So as many as two years later, Jesus is sitting around the communion table, or Peter's sitting around the Passover table about to observe the first communion. He doesn't know what communion is. Jesus breaks the bread and tells them to eat it. And he pours the wine and he tells them to drink it. And Peter goes, oh, and he still doesn't know what it is because the next day Jesus actually dies for him. And he's like, well, this stinks. Everything's over. And he wanders back and he goes to fish. And then the resurrected Jesus shows up and makes him breakfast. And he's like, hey, do you love me? Yes. Do you love me? Yes. Do you love me? Yes. Okay, go feed my sheep. You're reinstated. Go do it, Peter. What a light bulb moment for Peter in this moment with no context. Because Jesus doesn't explain it. He does not explain the cannibalism. He just drops it on them. You still going to follow me? You still trust me? Great. And then he goes. And for two years, he doesn't come back to it and address it. And then one day he's at a table and he breaks the bread and Peter goes, oh. God never gives us the clarity we want in the moment. But he always gives us what we need. And if we stick in there, we get light bulb moments too. And both of these stories, the story of the wise men just following the star, okay, that's what I'm going to do. The story of the disenfranchised disciple. You make no sense to me, but I'm in because I know who you are. Highlight what I believe is God's fundamental ask of all humanity. God's fundamental ask is simply that we would trust him. God's fundamental ask of people from the beginning of time is that we would trust him. Just listen to me. Just trust me. Just hear my voice and respond in obedience like the wise men do who don't need a religious apparatus to discern the voice of God and be obedient to it. Just follow me like that. Isn't that what he asked of Adam and Eve? Hey, there's a tree. Don't eat it. Just trust me on this one. And they didn't trust him. Isn't that what he asked of Abraham? The father of his children is in Ur, the land of the Chaldeans, probably the Sumerian dynasty. And God appears to him. God speaks to him. I don't know if he appeared to him, but he speaks to him. And he says, I want you to pack up your stuff and quote, go to the place where I will show you. To this place called Israel that Abraham's never heard of, the land of Canaan at the time that no one's ever heard of. And he meets someone there named Melchizedek, who is the high priest and the king of a city called Salem that would later become Jerusalem, who has heard the voice of God and is obeying him outside of any religious apparatus, outside of the focus of the narrative scripture, of the narrative text of the gospel, just out there obeying God. And Abraham goes to him, not knowing where he's going, arrives, and God's just illuminating one step by one step. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Then he gives him a son. He says, I want you to go sacrifice this son. Three days journey away on a random hill. And he gets up the next day and he goes. And he's at the bottom of the hill, and a lot of scholars believe that Abraham did not know how he was going to walk back down that mountain with his living son, but he believed that he would. And so he went. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Moses, wandering the desert for 40 years, stumbles upon, as a shepherd, stumbles upon the burning bush. This is in Exodus chapters 2 and 3, two of the greatest chapters in the Bible. And God appears to him in the burning bush, and he says, I want you to go to the most powerful man in the world, and I want you to tell him to let my people go based on zero authority whatsoever. And Moses is like, okay, I've got questions. And he asks him five clarifying questions. What's your name? Why are they going to believe me? I have a stutter that seems like an issue. No one's going to listen to me. Five different questions. Five times, God says, don't worry about that, trust me. Don't worry about that, trust me. What's your name? Don't worry about that, trust me. I have a stutter, don't worry about that, trust me. Just trust me, just trust me. How's it going to work out, God? I'm not going to tell you. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. All through scripture. David, anointed king. You're going to be the next king. You're the chosen one. Man after God's own heart. As probably an adolescent kid. He waits 20 years before he ascends to the throne. God, when's it going to happen? The current king's trying to kill me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Just trust me. Why did God wait so long to give the Ten Commandments? He could have, he could have, once Adam and Eve broke the rules, he could have said, okay, here's the new rules. He waits generation after generation after generation, a couple thousand years before he says, fine, here's the rules. What I'd really like for you to do is trust me and obey me without the rules, but since you need rules, here are the rules. And then Jesus shows up and he says, we don't need those rules anymore. Love God, trust him. Love God, trust him, be obedient by loving others. Just trust me, just trust me, just trust me. Have you ever thought about the fact that Jesus could have sat down with the disciples and we, especially those of us who are business and strategy minded, would, those of us, like I'm business and strategy minded, those of you, we would think that the best possible thing for Jesus to do would be to recruit the disciples, test them for a few months to make sure they're all the way in, and then bring them into a meeting and sit them down and say, all right, boys, listen, here's the deal. And for Jesus to lay out every step of the strategy, doesn't that make so much sense? Hey, I'm going to be here for about three more years. The whole time, I'm going to show you how to do ministry. I'm going to show you how to love on people. I'm going to teach you this new rule of loving others the way that I've loved you. I'm going to show you what it is to love people. And then you guys think I'm going to be a physical king. I'm not. I'm going to be an eternal king. I don't care about that throne. It's small potatoes. I don't need it. So quit trying to make me be king. This is the kind of king I'm going to be. I'm going to be an eternal king. And at the end of the three years, after I've shown you how to live and love perfectly, I'm going to have given you all the tools to build what I'm going to call the church. What's the church, Jesus? Well, let me explain to you what the church is going to be. He could have explained all this. And he could have said, at the end of three years, I'm going to be arrested and it's going to be an unfair trial and I'm going to die. You should watch me die. And honestly, you should celebrate it because it's ushering in the next part of the plan. That's how I'm paying for you guys to get to heaven. It's an okay thing when I die. And don't worry about it because I'm going to be buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea and I'm going to be raised on the third day. You guys can come hang out with me if you want. And then I'm going to stick around for about 40 days and I'm going to go into heaven because my job's done and I'm going to hand you the keys to the kingdom. So the next three years of your life, pay attention, write down notes, ask me all the questions you need because I'm going to give you this thing. Tell me that doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he do that? It makes so much sense. It makes sense to us because we're stupid. That was not the way that Jesus did it. He didn't tell them the plan. He didn't explain to them the death. He let them believe he was going to be an earthly king. He illuminated one step at a time. Go into this city and perform these miracles. Go over there and tell them about me. Follow me here and listen to my teaching. Now you can answer, now you can ask me questions. Take this bread and eat it. He never illuminates the whole path. He never explains everything to them. He just beckons them to trust him. And God has the same ask of you. Trust him. Hang in there. Believe him. Be like Peter. And those moments when your faith doesn't make any sense, where something happens in your life that doesn't have a nice, neat, satisfying box to put it in and categorize it and explain it to others and justify it, when that happens, when something outside of your boxes and your theology and your understanding, when that happens and tears it down, and we sit in the midst of confusion and uncertainty, Jesus, why'd you let that happen? Why did it turn out this way? Why am I struggling with this? Why won't you rescue me from that? When we sit in that uncertainty, no, God designed and intended that uncertainty. He's never, ever given anyone the full path. He's never, ever illuminated more than a couple steps for anyone in their life. He simply beckons us to trust him. And I love that word and that concept of trust because it has so many tendrils, doesn't it? Don't just trust me with your faith. Trust me with your family. Do for your family what I think is best for them. Not, not what you think is best for them. See, when we trust somebody, what we do is we choose their judgment over our own. When I trust the finance committee, I trust their expertise over my expertise, which is none in that area. When we trust someone, we choose them over ourselves. So God says in every way, choose my expertise over your own, and I promise you it will work out. Simply trust me. Trust me with your morals and with your values. Trust me with your money. I've asked you to give a bottom line of 10%. Be generous people and give. Trust me with that. It's going to be best for you. Trust me with your children. Trust me with your marriage. Trust me with your career. Trust me with your priorities. Trust me with your calendar. Trust me. Just believe me. Trust me. Take the steps I'm illuminating for you. And I promise, I promise, I promise it will be better for you. The more we can trust God in the midst of uncertainty, the more light bulb moments we get like Peter sitting at communion going, this is why God, okay. And tell me that doesn't strengthen faith when you have those moments. And here's what happens when we choose to trust God in the midst of uncertainty. We make that a pattern in our life. God rewards our trust with a full life and perfect eternity. God rewards that trust with a full life and a perfect eternity. I chose that phrase full life there on purpose because one of my favorite verses I've said to you before, John 10, 10, the thief comes to steal and to kill and to destroy, but I have come, Jesus is speaking. I have come that you might have life and have it to the full. Jesus says he came to give us the most full life possible. Not the wealthiest life. Not the healthiest life. Not the most comfortable life. I'm reminded of that quote from, I believe it's Chronicles of Narnia, where they're talking about the Jesus figure, Aslam, I think. And they say, is he safe? And the response is, oh, no, he is not safe. But he is good. Jesus invites us into that goodness. Do you trust me? Do you trust me? Do you trust me? Because if you do, if you choose my judgment over yours, he will give us in this life the most full life possible, the best life we can imagine if we'll simply trust him. The problem is we hold back parts of our life because we think in our judgment, with our values, with our morals, and with what we do, that we can make little pockets of our life better and more comfortable and more enjoyable than what Jesus can do. No, no, no, I'm not going to trust you with that because I like what I'm doing right here. And Jesus says, if you'll just trust me and hand me that too, I promise there will be a more full life around the corner. I promise you there will be a deeper peace, a deeper happiness, a deeper joy if you'll simply hand that to me too. So here's my question for you this morning. Where can you trust God more? Where are you holding back from him? What are you keeping to yourself and not choosing to be like the wise men and humble, faithful, consistent obedience? Where are you going? I don't know. When are you going to get there? I'm not sure. How do you know where to go? I'm just following God. Where can we choose to trust God more and trust his judgment over our own? And I would also encourage you, if you're one who's sitting in the midst of uncertainty, Jesus, this is happening in my life and I don't understand it. You could fix it and you're not. And honestly, Jesus, it kind of makes me frustrated with you. Okay. Be like Peter. Are you going to leave Jesus because of it? No. You're the son of God. You have the words of eternal life and I believe you. Where else am I going to go? And I promise you, you'll have your aha moment if you trust him. And you'll usher in a full life and a perfect eternity. So this morning, let's trust God like the wise men did and just take the step of obedience that's in front of us. Let's pray. Father, we love you this morning. We love you always. We trust you. Help us to trust you more. God, I'm reminded of the simple prayer, I believe, help my unbelief. Lord, if there are those who are sitting in the midst of uncertainty, who feel disillusioned like the disciples that thought cannibalism was a part of the deal, God, would you give them the faith of Peter to hang in there, to trust you, even when they're not certain and don't understand everything they feel like they need to understand. God, for those of us who are holding back parts of our lives, who are choosing our judgment in places over yours, would you give us the strength and the faith to trust you, to believe you? That things are only going to be better when we hand them to you? Would you give us the remarkable faith of the wise men who journeyed to an unknown place for two years simply trusting? And as we do that, as we take those steps and as we trust you, would you help us to see you? Would you show up in those places and reassure us? In Jesus' name, amen.

Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson and I'm a partner here at Grace. It's exciting and a privilege to be up here this morning. So thank you all for coming and thanks as well to all those who are listening elsewhere. Although I probably shouldn't admit this, I wasn't initially excited about the prospect of speaking this morning. In fact, and as my wife Debbie will attest, when Nate first texted me to ask, my initial gut reaction was pretty much the same as it's always been when asked to speak. Texting Nate back, I wrote, hey, I was thinking that with Kyle and Aaron in the bullpen, perhaps my speaking days were coming to a close. And Nate replied, and I quote, we have a lot in the bullpen to be sure, but I think the church is best served through multiple voices, and I'd like for Grace to hear from you again, if possible. Now, I totally subscribe to the idea that hearing from a variety of voices is a healthy and good thing. But after a few moments, I thought to myself, hey, wait a minute, he didn't really answer my question. Why ask me and not the other more capable and willing voices? And this is where, if you're squeamish and like your safe spaces, you should cover your ears and avert your eyes, because I'm going to give you a glimpse into the seeming underbelly of church life. Nate's a gifted speaker and does a great job of conveying the truth of Scripture. He's also pretty smart. Not super smart, but pretty smart. And he's very clever. But most of all, he's cunning. Not pretty cunning. I mean really, really cunning. And he understands that no matter how good his sermons might be, it's an inevitable human tendency as night follows day for people to start taking things for granted, including his sermons. So for Nate, what better way to solve this problem than to remind everyone just how dry, pointless, and uninspiring a sermon can be if not done well. And what better way to do that than to trot me up here every six months or so. Voila. Presto change-o. Problem solved. Next Sunday morning, people will be streaming early to Grace just to get a seat, chomping at the bit to hear what Nate has to say. Not to worry, though. Despite being used in this way, it's not all bad for me. In fact, selfishly, two very good things have happened. The first is that I find preparing a sermon a big responsibility and a bit nerve-wracking, which in turn compels me to read more, study more, think more, pray more. I always feel completely inadequate, and that, paradoxically, turns out to be a very good place to be. So despite my early misgivings, by the time I'm finally ready and up here on stage, it's been such a spiritually rich experience for me that I'm truly excited and deeply grateful for the opportunity. Trying to get a little more light, excuse me. The other really good thing that's happened is that even though we are now in our third week of the sermon series on Jesus' Beatitudes, I got to pick which Beatitude to talk about. And I picked Jesus' first one, my favorite one. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. It's the first Beatitude and my favorite because it reveals an absolutely essential truth for each of us, regardless of station or circumstance. I was raised in a modern split-level suburban house wedged between Chicago Proper and O'Hare Airport. Down in the family room, my father had a large bookshelf filled with all sorts of fabulous books. Works of Shakespeare, Winston Churchill's six-volume set on World War II, Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, Contiki by Thor Heyerdahl, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, and on and on. I didn't actually read many of them, and for sure none of the Shakespeare's. I could not make head nor tail of his Elizabethan English. But I loved taking the books down and paging through them. However, there was one book I actually did read a lot. This little book, 101 Famous Poems. I came to treasure this little book so much that when I was leaving home for good, I just took it from my parents' house without a word, and obviously have kept it since. I have many weaknesses and vices, some of which I freely admit and openly share, and others which I only acknowledge to God as they are embarrassing and a source of personal disappointment and even shame. But I can confidently say that stealing is not one of them, except perhaps this one time. Vice of mine or not, I couldn't think of a more fitting way to introduce today's beatitude than by reading the following poem from a book that I stole from my own parents. The Fool's Prayer by Edward Sill. The royal feast was done. The king sought some new sport to banish care, and to his jester cried, Sir fool, kneel down and make for us a prayer. The jester doffed his cap and bells and stood the mocking court before. They could not see the bitter smile behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head and bent his knee upon the monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. No pity, Lord, can change the heart from red with wrong to white as wool. The rod must heal the sin, but Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. Tis not by guilt the onward sweep of truth and right, O Lord, we stay. Tis by our follies that so long we hold the earth from heaven away. These clumsy feet still in the mire go crushing blossoms without end. These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust among the heartstrings of a friend. The old-time truth we might have kept, who knows how sharp it pierced and stung. The word we had not sense to say, who knows how grandly it had rung. Our faults no tenderness should ask, the chastening stripes must cleanse them all, but for our blunders, oh, and shame, before the eyes of heaven we fall. Earth bears no balsam for mistakes. Men crown the knave and scourge the tool that did his will. But thou, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. The rooms hushed, and silence rose the king and sought his gardens cool, and walked apart and murmured low, be merciful to me, a fool. There are a million reasons why I love that poem. It tells of a surprise, a reversal in the accepted order. The greater brought low and it is the jester, not the king, who is wise. Everyone is equal before God. Everyone is lost. Everyone in need. It resonates because in our heart of hearts, we know it's true. It is the Upside down and inside out in virtually every way imaginable. And if I was in a court of law having to prove that point, I might start with the Beatitudes as my exhibit A. or the happy and healthy or the beautiful or the self-sufficient. But blessed are those who know that before God, they are a spiritual dumpster fire without merit and utterly undeserving of God's favor and blessing. That is what it means biblically to be poor in spirit. And that is a radically different take on how one goes about getting on God's good side. But a bit differently, the only thing that qualifies you or me to experience God's blessing is to honestly confess that we don't deserve to experience it at all. And why is that admission that we are utterly undeserving and without merit such a big deal? Because it's an acknowledgement that we are not okay, that we are separated from God and in desperate straits. And that, although it might seem initially like a depressing admission, in fact is a magnificent, mind-blowing blessing from God because it creates and fosters in us a posture receptive to his free offer of mercy, grace, and forgiveness through his son, Jesus Christ. In the book of Luke, Jesus tells a very famous story, the parable of the prodigal son that illustrates precisely this point. As many of you might recall, a man has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, an act of enormous disrespect and outright rebellion in those days given that the father was still alive. The younger son then takes his share to a distant land where he proceeds to completely squander it on wild living. Predictably, he eventually falls on to hard times. Poverty, hunger, utter destitution. When he finally hits rock bottom, he has an epiphany. Realizing that he had sinned against his father and was no longer worthy of being called his father's son, he decides to return home and beg for mercy. But the father, seeing his son approaching in the distance, runs to him and hugs and kisses him and then throws a lavish party in the younger son's honor. All the while, the older son was having a fit, refusing to go into the party despite his father coming out and pleading with him to do so. The father tried to explain that everything he had was the older son's and that he was always with him. But all the older son could think about was the unfairness of it all. How obedient and hardworking he had been, how deserving, certainly compared to his brother. Although the extravagant, unmerited love and forgiveness the father offered his youngest son is breathtaking in that story, there is another key takeaway, the remarkable contrast between the fates of the two sons, a complete reversal of what we would suspect. The younger son failed spectacularly, but in so doing was brought to a place in which he clearly acknowledged that he stood before his father without a claim. Albeit not by his design, and certainly not something he signed up for, the younger son, through his ordeal, had become poor in spirit. And as a result of that condition, that posture, he experienced the mercy, forgiveness, and grace freely offered to him by his father. Tragically, his older son, convinced of his own righteousness and merit, was blinded to what his father was always offering him. And at the end of the day, it was the younger, the prodigal son who was advantaged and blessed, and it was the older who remained lost. Admittedly, those takeaways are somewhat nuanced and subtle, so I'll read another parable from Luke This is in Luke 18. some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked downterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Jesus goes on to say, I tell you that this man, the tax collector, rather than the other, went home justified before God. That word means made right before him, declared not guilty. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. It's pretty straightforward. The Pharisee thought he was okay and was not. The tax collector knew he was not and was blessed. Over the previous two weeks, Nates explained that our English translation of blessed doesn't do justice to what Jesus was talking about in the Beatitudes. More than happy, more than good fortune, more than favorable circumstances. Biblically, the word refers to an eternal security and well-being that aren't at all dependent on our feelings and circumstances. Regardless how difficult or unpromising things might seem at the time. And to be given the kingdom of heaven is simply another way of referring to salvation, redeemed by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's the ultimate blessedness, beginning first in this life, but ultimately culminating in an eternity with God. So this first beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, is second to none in importance as all roads to God's blessing and favor run through it. And there's a lot at stake, as it's my belief, that realizing one's desperate need is the single biggest stumbling block for people coming to faith to Jesus Christ. After all, salvation doesn't mean much if you're not convinced you need saving. But as critical as it is to recognize one's need, it's not sufficient. It's necessary, but just like in the story of the prodigal son, one must, in faith, return to the father to experience his goodness. Now, some may feel the urge to protest. Hey, Doug, I'm not that bad a person. In fact, I'm a pretty good person. In response, I'd say, that may very well be true. You may be a good person. Not only is that a very low bar, it's also the wrong bar. So why do we have to admit that we're spiritually bankrupt? The simplest answer is that it's true. I've often made the point that if I ever meet someone who seems like they have their act totally together, I simply conclude that I must not know them well enough. Although trying to be funny when I say that, I believe it's true. You might accuse me of being overly cynical, but I don't think so, and neither does Scripture. As the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans, there is no one righteous, not even one. And a few verses later, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified, there's that word again, declared not guilty, made right with God, freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ. And in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul makes the so that no one can boast. The kingdom of heaven, God's ultimate blessing and desire for each of us is simply not attained by the good things we might do, no matter how many or how good. Rather, it's reserved for the poor in spirit. Now, why is it so hard for us to admit our poverty and desperate need? There are lots of reasons, but the biggest is sin itself. In a massive, universal catch-22, it's our own sinfulness which keeps us from seeing how sinful we actually are. Virtually everything in our nature is singing a different tune. Hey, I'm really not that bad, and I'm certainly not totally helpless. I have agency. At its core, it's human pride, an implicit assertion of our own sovereignty, that we can steer our own ship. Thank you very much. We can figure out what's best for us. Confessing one's spiritual bankruptcy and abject need so completely rubs against the grain of everything our world tells us that even among the world's great religions, Christianity alone invokes such a confession. In all the others, there are things one can and even must do to get in God's good graces. It's transactional in a sense. I've done this or that. I've earned it, so God owes me. And I should get at least some of the credit. In essence, I'm the one in the driver's seat. Whereas the Christian gospel in polar opposition asserts that God did it. Everything. And he gets the credit. All of it. I did absolutely nothing and am in his debt. Truly being poor in spirit has always been a challenge for humankind, and it's not getting any easier. Virtue signaling is a term that's gained a lot of traction in our popular culture, and although the term may be relatively new, the concept is not. As human beings, since time immemorial, have sought ways to assert their own virtue. Perhaps it's where we live, who we associate with, the church we attend, the good things we do, our families, our social setting, our vocation, our possessions, our education, our politics, you name it, we find a way to do it and have always found ways to do it. But But the temptation of virtue signal today is greater than ever. Advances in technology and communication, though life-changing and transformative in many, many ways, have a dark side. The platform, audience, and access each of us is now afforded are unrivaled in human history, and not all for the good. Without a doubt, there's great value in having a marketplace for ideas, social discourse, advocacy, and the like. But the ease with which we can now signal our virtue is nectar to our innate human desire to build ourselves up. It seems as if our entire society, certainly our media, entertainment, politics, commerce, have all become performance art. Everyone morphing into little Torquemadas, Spanish inquisitors, casting about, looking for those not thinking right, not speaking right, not acting right, not looking right, not voting right, not caring enough about the right things, caring too much about the wrong things, we've become quicker than ever to accuse and condemn. I'm not even on social media to speak of, yet I'm still caught up in this overall mood of the times. On my news feed each morning, I'll read something about an entertainer or politician or businessman or some journalist, and I'll immediately think to myself, what a twit. What a moron, an idiot. It's judgment. It's pride. An implicit comparison between me and the object of my ridicule and scorn. An assertion of my own virtue. I'm marinating in my rightness, goodness, and wisdom when I do that. How different is that from the Pharisee and the parable I read earlier? Thank God I'm not like that tax collector. I'll tell you what virtue signaling is not. It's not like anything resembling Jesus Christ and is absolutely antithetical to the gospel news, excuse me, to the good news of the gospel. Virtue signaling has a corrosive effect on us and social media hasn't helped but only amplified. After all, I already have these impulses to want to be right and viewed as smart and virtuous. I don't need them so easily catered to. It turns out the Pharisees, the Jewish religious leaders of the day, were the first century's poster children for what today we call virtue signaling. Everything they did was performative for others to see and admire, totally wrapped up in an external righteousness rather than the real deal. And if one reads a little further in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reserved his harshest and most withering criticism and contempt for them, declaring that when Pharisees gave, prayed, and fasted in public for the praise and affirmation of men that they had received their reward in full. Convinced and satisfied with their own righteousness, they could not see their desperate need. They were far, far away from being poor in spirit and far, far away from the kingdom of heaven. Personally, I do not find these times we live in very helpful if I genuinely desire to walk the walk rather than just talk the talk of my faith. They do not cultivate in me a posture receptive to grace, nor encourage me to offer grace, empathy, and mercy to others. Rather, what is cultivated in me is a spirit of judgment, superiority, and disdain. Very hard to reconcile with Jesus' words, for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Although we all virtue signal in some form or fashion, it's especially harmful when done by believers, those of us who profess to be followers of Christ. The temptation to signal our virtue has always been and continues to be an enormous Achilles heel for Christians and for the church. We are susceptible, because we still sin, to moving away over time from our initial confession of brokenness and need, of being poor in spirit, to something quite different. For example, I'm an elder here at Grace. I lead a couple of small groups. I volunteer in the toddler room. Man, I even went on a mission trip last fall. Sure, Christ died for my sins, but look at me now. I think we can all safely agree that I'm nailing it, right? Go me! Now those things I'm doing aren't bad. In fact, they're good things. It's my pride that's a problem. My lens has moved stealthily, covertly from my need to my merit. What I'm now presenting in my life is not the gospel and it's not the truth and is terribly misleading to anyone genuinely searching for the truth. So what can we do about this state of things? As I reflect on today's beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I'm convinced we'd be better off signaling our vices more and our virtues less. More emphasis on what Christ has done on our behalf and less of what we've done on his. Being poor in spirit, confessing our spiritual poverty and need is not intended to be a one-time event, but only the beginning of a lifelong transformation empowered by God's Holy Spirit. We tend to underestimate the amazing power and ongoing blessing being poor in spirit offers to each of us individually and to the church as a whole. When we embrace our weakness and need, it's a much more honest and compelling witness of Jesus Christ than when we don't. I find it very revealing that the following brief little episode was deemed important enough to be included in three of the four Gospels, accounts of Jesus' life and ministry. Matthew, the disciple and former tax collector, was hosting a great banquet at his house for Jesus, along with a large crowd of tax collectors and other unsavory sorts. The Pharisees complained. Of course they did. Every party needs a poop. Asking why Jesus was dining and hanging out with these sinners, Jesus answered them as follows. It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. If the church is to be a welcoming, grace-filled infirmary that it's designed to be, rather than an exclusive enclave for the moral and virtuous. It's a shame that we so often act and are perceived as if we're the latter rather than the former. There is no advantage to clinging to these pretenses. We in the church are far more appealing and credible when we don't. One of the things I've always loved and valued most about grace is that we have, for the most part, leaned into the notion that we do not have our act together and hold such a confession to not only be self-evident, but hopeful, attractive, and life-giving. And though admitting one's abject spiritual poverty and desperate need might be a giant, depressing downer in the world's eyes, it offers great comfort and new life to those who actually know themselves to be sinners. Now, it's important to note that we can't make ourselves poor in spirit. It's not something we can do or become on our own. It's the work of God's Holy Spirit who convicts us of our sin and draws us to Jesus. But we can certainly cooperate with the Spirit. How we respond matters. We can remind ourselves through prayer, study, and worship that we are now in Jesus Christ not through anything we've done. When we embrace that defining fact that we are not Christ due to our being either moral or good, but because we've been forgiven, rescued, and redeemed, it unlocks the door to the magnificence of grace and grows our appetite to extend grace to others. Speaking only for myself, when I'm poor in spirit, there is a softening in my heart, a little more empathy and tolerance of others, a little less focused on others' deficiencies, a little more patient, a little more inclined to forgive. I'd like to close with one final remarkable and eye-opening parable from the book of Luke, which has such profound implications that I don't think it gets the attention that it deserves. Jesus was invited to dine at one of the Pharisees' houses. Learning of this, a woman from town who had led an immoral life brought perfume and stood behind Jesus at his feet, weeping. Wetting his feet with her tears, she then wiped them with her hair, kissed, and poured perfume on them. The Pharisee was indignant, thinking to himself that if Jesus was truly a prophet, he would have known that the woman touching him was a sinner and how wrong this entire situation was. Knowing what his host was thinking, Jesus asked the Pharisee a question. He supposed the one who had the bigger debt canceled. You have judged correctly, Nor did she put oil on my head, but she has covered my feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little, loves little. Jesus then said to the woman, your sins are forgiven. Once again, the gospel turns everything we know on its head. It's not the upstanding and righteous who are most inclined and most able to love, but those who most appreciate the depth of their need for forgiveness, mercy, and grace, the poor in spirit. It literally is the gift that keeps on giving and the blessing that keeps on blessing. This moment in our culture, with all its acrimony and angst, presents an opportune time for us to offer something different, to truly be salt and light in a lost world that really just seems like it's thrashing about. In addition to being biblical and true, it's a lot more attractive and inviting to others when our lives reflect a healthy circumspection and wariness of our own virtue. And a well-founded confidence and well-placed trust in the righteousness and redemption offered through Jesus Christ. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Not only is poorness in spirit key to God's kingdom for us, it's the key to the kingdom for the world. There's a lot at stake. Let's pray. Dear Lord, thank you for this morning. Thank you for your love. Thank you for the fact that we can stand before you without a claim, and you love us. That's what you expect. You're our God. You, your righteousness, your love, your grace and mercy are sufficient for us. Thank you for this morning. Pray that you'll use it to however you see fit. And I thank you for being merciful to me, a fool. Amen.

Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson and I'm a partner here at Grace. It's exciting and a privilege to be up here this morning. So thank you all for coming and thanks as well to all those who are listening elsewhere. Although I probably shouldn't admit this, I wasn't initially excited about the prospect of speaking this morning. In fact, and as my wife Debbie will attest, when Nate first texted me to ask, my initial gut reaction was pretty much the same as it's always been when asked to speak. Texting Nate back, I wrote, hey, I was thinking that with Kyle and Aaron in the bullpen, perhaps my speaking days were coming to a close. And Nate replied, and I quote, we have a lot in the bullpen to be sure, but I think the church is best served through multiple voices, and I'd like for Grace to hear from you again, if possible. Now, I totally subscribe to the idea that hearing from a variety of voices is a healthy and good thing. But after a few moments, I thought to myself, hey, wait a minute, he didn't really answer my question. Why ask me and not the other more capable and willing voices? And this is where, if you're squeamish and like your safe spaces, you should cover your ears and avert your eyes, because I'm going to give you a glimpse into the seeming underbelly of church life. Nate's a gifted speaker and does a great job of conveying the truth of Scripture. He's also pretty smart. Not super smart, but pretty smart. And he's very clever. But most of all, he's cunning. Not pretty cunning. I mean really, really cunning. And he understands that no matter how good his sermons might be, it's an inevitable human tendency as night follows day for people to start taking things for granted, including his sermons. So for Nate, what better way to solve this problem than to remind everyone just how dry, pointless, and uninspiring a sermon can be if not done well. And what better way to do that than to trot me up here every six months or so. Voila. Presto change-o. Problem solved. Next Sunday morning, people will be streaming early to Grace just to get a seat, chomping at the bit to hear what Nate has to say. Not to worry, though. Despite being used in this way, it's not all bad for me. In fact, selfishly, two very good things have happened. The first is that I find preparing a sermon a big responsibility and a bit nerve-wracking, which in turn compels me to read more, study more, think more, pray more. I always feel completely inadequate, and that, paradoxically, turns out to be a very good place to be. So despite my early misgivings, by the time I'm finally ready and up here on stage, it's been such a spiritually rich experience for me that I'm truly excited and deeply grateful for the opportunity. Trying to get a little more light, excuse me. The other really good thing that's happened is that even though we are now in our third week of the sermon series on Jesus' Beatitudes, I got to pick which Beatitude to talk about. And I picked Jesus' first one, my favorite one. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. It's the first Beatitude and my favorite because it reveals an absolutely essential truth for each of us, regardless of station or circumstance. I was raised in a modern split-level suburban house wedged between Chicago Proper and O'Hare Airport. Down in the family room, my father had a large bookshelf filled with all sorts of fabulous books. Works of Shakespeare, Winston Churchill's six-volume set on World War II, Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, Contiki by Thor Heyerdahl, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, and on and on. I didn't actually read many of them, and for sure none of the Shakespeare's. I could not make head nor tail of his Elizabethan English. But I loved taking the books down and paging through them. However, there was one book I actually did read a lot. This little book, 101 Famous Poems. I came to treasure this little book so much that when I was leaving home for good, I just took it from my parents' house without a word, and obviously have kept it since. I have many weaknesses and vices, some of which I freely admit and openly share, and others which I only acknowledge to God as they are embarrassing and a source of personal disappointment and even shame. But I can confidently say that stealing is not one of them, except perhaps this one time. Vice of mine or not, I couldn't think of a more fitting way to introduce today's beatitude than by reading the following poem from a book that I stole from my own parents. The Fool's Prayer by Edward Sill. The royal feast was done. The king sought some new sport to banish care, and to his jester cried, Sir fool, kneel down and make for us a prayer. The jester doffed his cap and bells and stood the mocking court before. They could not see the bitter smile behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head and bent his knee upon the monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. No pity, Lord, can change the heart from red with wrong to white as wool. The rod must heal the sin, but Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. Tis not by guilt the onward sweep of truth and right, O Lord, we stay. Tis by our follies that so long we hold the earth from heaven away. These clumsy feet still in the mire go crushing blossoms without end. These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust among the heartstrings of a friend. The old-time truth we might have kept, who knows how sharp it pierced and stung. The word we had not sense to say, who knows how grandly it had rung. Our faults no tenderness should ask, the chastening stripes must cleanse them all, but for our blunders, oh, and shame, before the eyes of heaven we fall. Earth bears no balsam for mistakes. Men crown the knave and scourge the tool that did his will. But thou, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. The rooms hushed, and silence rose the king and sought his gardens cool, and walked apart and murmured low, be merciful to me, a fool. There are a million reasons why I love that poem. It tells of a surprise, a reversal in the accepted order. The greater brought low and it is the jester, not the king, who is wise. Everyone is equal before God. Everyone is lost. Everyone in need. It resonates because in our heart of hearts, we know it's true. It is the Upside down and inside out in virtually every way imaginable. And if I was in a court of law having to prove that point, I might start with the Beatitudes as my exhibit A. or the happy and healthy or the beautiful or the self-sufficient. But blessed are those who know that before God, they are a spiritual dumpster fire without merit and utterly undeserving of God's favor and blessing. That is what it means biblically to be poor in spirit. And that is a radically different take on how one goes about getting on God's good side. But a bit differently, the only thing that qualifies you or me to experience God's blessing is to honestly confess that we don't deserve to experience it at all. And why is that admission that we are utterly undeserving and without merit such a big deal? Because it's an acknowledgement that we are not okay, that we are separated from God and in desperate straits. And that, although it might seem initially like a depressing admission, in fact is a magnificent, mind-blowing blessing from God because it creates and fosters in us a posture receptive to his free offer of mercy, grace, and forgiveness through his son, Jesus Christ. In the book of Luke, Jesus tells a very famous story, the parable of the prodigal son that illustrates precisely this point. As many of you might recall, a man has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, an act of enormous disrespect and outright rebellion in those days given that the father was still alive. The younger son then takes his share to a distant land where he proceeds to completely squander it on wild living. Predictably, he eventually falls on to hard times. Poverty, hunger, utter destitution. When he finally hits rock bottom, he has an epiphany. Realizing that he had sinned against his father and was no longer worthy of being called his father's son, he decides to return home and beg for mercy. But the father, seeing his son approaching in the distance, runs to him and hugs and kisses him and then throws a lavish party in the younger son's honor. All the while, the older son was having a fit, refusing to go into the party despite his father coming out and pleading with him to do so. The father tried to explain that everything he had was the older son's and that he was always with him. But all the older son could think about was the unfairness of it all. How obedient and hardworking he had been, how deserving, certainly compared to his brother. Although the extravagant, unmerited love and forgiveness the father offered his youngest son is breathtaking in that story, there is another key takeaway, the remarkable contrast between the fates of the two sons, a complete reversal of what we would suspect. The younger son failed spectacularly, but in so doing was brought to a place in which he clearly acknowledged that he stood before his father without a claim. Albeit not by his design, and certainly not something he signed up for, the younger son, through his ordeal, had become poor in spirit. And as a result of that condition, that posture, he experienced the mercy, forgiveness, and grace freely offered to him by his father. Tragically, his older son, convinced of his own righteousness and merit, was blinded to what his father was always offering him. And at the end of the day, it was the younger, the prodigal son who was advantaged and blessed, and it was the older who remained lost. Admittedly, those takeaways are somewhat nuanced and subtle, so I'll read another parable from Luke This is in Luke 18. some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked downterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Jesus goes on to say, I tell you that this man, the tax collector, rather than the other, went home justified before God. That word means made right before him, declared not guilty. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. It's pretty straightforward. The Pharisee thought he was okay and was not. The tax collector knew he was not and was blessed. Over the previous two weeks, Nates explained that our English translation of blessed doesn't do justice to what Jesus was talking about in the Beatitudes. More than happy, more than good fortune, more than favorable circumstances. Biblically, the word refers to an eternal security and well-being that aren't at all dependent on our feelings and circumstances. Regardless how difficult or unpromising things might seem at the time. And to be given the kingdom of heaven is simply another way of referring to salvation, redeemed by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's the ultimate blessedness, beginning first in this life, but ultimately culminating in an eternity with God. So this first beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, is second to none in importance as all roads to God's blessing and favor run through it. And there's a lot at stake, as it's my belief, that realizing one's desperate need is the single biggest stumbling block for people coming to faith to Jesus Christ. After all, salvation doesn't mean much if you're not convinced you need saving. But as critical as it is to recognize one's need, it's not sufficient. It's necessary, but just like in the story of the prodigal son, one must, in faith, return to the father to experience his goodness. Now, some may feel the urge to protest. Hey, Doug, I'm not that bad a person. In fact, I'm a pretty good person. In response, I'd say, that may very well be true. You may be a good person. Not only is that a very low bar, it's also the wrong bar. So why do we have to admit that we're spiritually bankrupt? The simplest answer is that it's true. I've often made the point that if I ever meet someone who seems like they have their act totally together, I simply conclude that I must not know them well enough. Although trying to be funny when I say that, I believe it's true. You might accuse me of being overly cynical, but I don't think so, and neither does Scripture. As the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans, there is no one righteous, not even one. And a few verses later, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified, there's that word again, declared not guilty, made right with God, freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ. And in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul makes the so that no one can boast. The kingdom of heaven, God's ultimate blessing and desire for each of us is simply not attained by the good things we might do, no matter how many or how good. Rather, it's reserved for the poor in spirit. Now, why is it so hard for us to admit our poverty and desperate need? There are lots of reasons, but the biggest is sin itself. In a massive, universal catch-22, it's our own sinfulness which keeps us from seeing how sinful we actually are. Virtually everything in our nature is singing a different tune. Hey, I'm really not that bad, and I'm certainly not totally helpless. I have agency. At its core, it's human pride, an implicit assertion of our own sovereignty, that we can steer our own ship. Thank you very much. We can figure out what's best for us. Confessing one's spiritual bankruptcy and abject need so completely rubs against the grain of everything our world tells us that even among the world's great religions, Christianity alone invokes such a confession. In all the others, there are things one can and even must do to get in God's good graces. It's transactional in a sense. I've done this or that. I've earned it, so God owes me. And I should get at least some of the credit. In essence, I'm the one in the driver's seat. Whereas the Christian gospel in polar opposition asserts that God did it. Everything. And he gets the credit. All of it. I did absolutely nothing and am in his debt. Truly being poor in spirit has always been a challenge for humankind, and it's not getting any easier. Virtue signaling is a term that's gained a lot of traction in our popular culture, and although the term may be relatively new, the concept is not. As human beings, since time immemorial, have sought ways to assert their own virtue. Perhaps it's where we live, who we associate with, the church we attend, the good things we do, our families, our social setting, our vocation, our possessions, our education, our politics, you name it, we find a way to do it and have always found ways to do it. But But the temptation of virtue signal today is greater than ever. Advances in technology and communication, though life-changing and transformative in many, many ways, have a dark side. The platform, audience, and access each of us is now afforded are unrivaled in human history, and not all for the good. Without a doubt, there's great value in having a marketplace for ideas, social discourse, advocacy, and the like. But the ease with which we can now signal our virtue is nectar to our innate human desire to build ourselves up. It seems as if our entire society, certainly our media, entertainment, politics, commerce, have all become performance art. Everyone morphing into little Torquemadas, Spanish inquisitors, casting about, looking for those not thinking right, not speaking right, not acting right, not looking right, not voting right, not caring enough about the right things, caring too much about the wrong things, we've become quicker than ever to accuse and condemn. I'm not even on social media to speak of, yet I'm still caught up in this overall mood of the times. On my news feed each morning, I'll read something about an entertainer or politician or businessman or some journalist, and I'll immediately think to myself, what a twit. What a moron, an idiot. It's judgment. It's pride. An implicit comparison between me and the object of my ridicule and scorn. An assertion of my own virtue. I'm marinating in my rightness, goodness, and wisdom when I do that. How different is that from the Pharisee and the parable I read earlier? Thank God I'm not like that tax collector. I'll tell you what virtue signaling is not. It's not like anything resembling Jesus Christ and is absolutely antithetical to the gospel news, excuse me, to the good news of the gospel. Virtue signaling has a corrosive effect on us and social media hasn't helped but only amplified. After all, I already have these impulses to want to be right and viewed as smart and virtuous. I don't need them so easily catered to. It turns out the Pharisees, the Jewish religious leaders of the day, were the first century's poster children for what today we call virtue signaling. Everything they did was performative for others to see and admire, totally wrapped up in an external righteousness rather than the real deal. And if one reads a little further in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reserved his harshest and most withering criticism and contempt for them, declaring that when Pharisees gave, prayed, and fasted in public for the praise and affirmation of men that they had received their reward in full. Convinced and satisfied with their own righteousness, they could not see their desperate need. They were far, far away from being poor in spirit and far, far away from the kingdom of heaven. Personally, I do not find these times we live in very helpful if I genuinely desire to walk the walk rather than just talk the talk of my faith. They do not cultivate in me a posture receptive to grace, nor encourage me to offer grace, empathy, and mercy to others. Rather, what is cultivated in me is a spirit of judgment, superiority, and disdain. Very hard to reconcile with Jesus' words, for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Although we all virtue signal in some form or fashion, it's especially harmful when done by believers, those of us who profess to be followers of Christ. The temptation to signal our virtue has always been and continues to be an enormous Achilles heel for Christians and for the church. We are susceptible, because we still sin, to moving away over time from our initial confession of brokenness and need, of being poor in spirit, to something quite different. For example, I'm an elder here at Grace. I lead a couple of small groups. I volunteer in the toddler room. Man, I even went on a mission trip last fall. Sure, Christ died for my sins, but look at me now. I think we can all safely agree that I'm nailing it, right? Go me! Now those things I'm doing aren't bad. In fact, they're good things. It's my pride that's a problem. My lens has moved stealthily, covertly from my need to my merit. What I'm now presenting in my life is not the gospel and it's not the truth and is terribly misleading to anyone genuinely searching for the truth. So what can we do about this state of things? As I reflect on today's beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I'm convinced we'd be better off signaling our vices more and our virtues less. More emphasis on what Christ has done on our behalf and less of what we've done on his. Being poor in spirit, confessing our spiritual poverty and need is not intended to be a one-time event, but only the beginning of a lifelong transformation empowered by God's Holy Spirit. We tend to underestimate the amazing power and ongoing blessing being poor in spirit offers to each of us individually and to the church as a whole. When we embrace our weakness and need, it's a much more honest and compelling witness of Jesus Christ than when we don't. I find it very revealing that the following brief little episode was deemed important enough to be included in three of the four Gospels, accounts of Jesus' life and ministry. Matthew, the disciple and former tax collector, was hosting a great banquet at his house for Jesus, along with a large crowd of tax collectors and other unsavory sorts. The Pharisees complained. Of course they did. Every party needs a poop. Asking why Jesus was dining and hanging out with these sinners, Jesus answered them as follows. It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. If the church is to be a welcoming, grace-filled infirmary that it's designed to be, rather than an exclusive enclave for the moral and virtuous. It's a shame that we so often act and are perceived as if we're the latter rather than the former. There is no advantage to clinging to these pretenses. We in the church are far more appealing and credible when we don't. One of the things I've always loved and valued most about grace is that we have, for the most part, leaned into the notion that we do not have our act together and hold such a confession to not only be self-evident, but hopeful, attractive, and life-giving. And though admitting one's abject spiritual poverty and desperate need might be a giant, depressing downer in the world's eyes, it offers great comfort and new life to those who actually know themselves to be sinners. Now, it's important to note that we can't make ourselves poor in spirit. It's not something we can do or become on our own. It's the work of God's Holy Spirit who convicts us of our sin and draws us to Jesus. But we can certainly cooperate with the Spirit. How we respond matters. We can remind ourselves through prayer, study, and worship that we are now in Jesus Christ not through anything we've done. When we embrace that defining fact that we are not Christ due to our being either moral or good, but because we've been forgiven, rescued, and redeemed, it unlocks the door to the magnificence of grace and grows our appetite to extend grace to others. Speaking only for myself, when I'm poor in spirit, there is a softening in my heart, a little more empathy and tolerance of others, a little less focused on others' deficiencies, a little more patient, a little more inclined to forgive. I'd like to close with one final remarkable and eye-opening parable from the book of Luke, which has such profound implications that I don't think it gets the attention that it deserves. Jesus was invited to dine at one of the Pharisees' houses. Learning of this, a woman from town who had led an immoral life brought perfume and stood behind Jesus at his feet, weeping. Wetting his feet with her tears, she then wiped them with her hair, kissed, and poured perfume on them. The Pharisee was indignant, thinking to himself that if Jesus was truly a prophet, he would have known that the woman touching him was a sinner and how wrong this entire situation was. Knowing what his host was thinking, Jesus asked the Pharisee a question. He supposed the one who had the bigger debt canceled. You have judged correctly, Nor did she put oil on my head, but she has covered my feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little, loves little. Jesus then said to the woman, your sins are forgiven. Once again, the gospel turns everything we know on its head. It's not the upstanding and righteous who are most inclined and most able to love, but those who most appreciate the depth of their need for forgiveness, mercy, and grace, the poor in spirit. It literally is the gift that keeps on giving and the blessing that keeps on blessing. This moment in our culture, with all its acrimony and angst, presents an opportune time for us to offer something different, to truly be salt and light in a lost world that really just seems like it's thrashing about. In addition to being biblical and true, it's a lot more attractive and inviting to others when our lives reflect a healthy circumspection and wariness of our own virtue. And a well-founded confidence and well-placed trust in the righteousness and redemption offered through Jesus Christ. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Not only is poorness in spirit key to God's kingdom for us, it's the key to the kingdom for the world. There's a lot at stake. Let's pray. Dear Lord, thank you for this morning. Thank you for your love. Thank you for the fact that we can stand before you without a claim, and you love us. That's what you expect. You're our God. You, your righteousness, your love, your grace and mercy are sufficient for us. Thank you for this morning. Pray that you'll use it to however you see fit. And I thank you for being merciful to me, a fool. Amen.

Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson and I'm a partner here at Grace. It's exciting and a privilege to be up here this morning. So thank you all for coming and thanks as well to all those who are listening elsewhere. Although I probably shouldn't admit this, I wasn't initially excited about the prospect of speaking this morning. In fact, and as my wife Debbie will attest, when Nate first texted me to ask, my initial gut reaction was pretty much the same as it's always been when asked to speak. Texting Nate back, I wrote, hey, I was thinking that with Kyle and Aaron in the bullpen, perhaps my speaking days were coming to a close. And Nate replied, and I quote, we have a lot in the bullpen to be sure, but I think the church is best served through multiple voices, and I'd like for Grace to hear from you again, if possible. Now, I totally subscribe to the idea that hearing from a variety of voices is a healthy and good thing. But after a few moments, I thought to myself, hey, wait a minute, he didn't really answer my question. Why ask me and not the other more capable and willing voices? And this is where, if you're squeamish and like your safe spaces, you should cover your ears and avert your eyes, because I'm going to give you a glimpse into the seeming underbelly of church life. Nate's a gifted speaker and does a great job of conveying the truth of Scripture. He's also pretty smart. Not super smart, but pretty smart. And he's very clever. But most of all, he's cunning. Not pretty cunning. I mean really, really cunning. And he understands that no matter how good his sermons might be, it's an inevitable human tendency as night follows day for people to start taking things for granted, including his sermons. So for Nate, what better way to solve this problem than to remind everyone just how dry, pointless, and uninspiring a sermon can be if not done well. And what better way to do that than to trot me up here every six months or so. Voila. Presto change-o. Problem solved. Next Sunday morning, people will be streaming early to Grace just to get a seat, chomping at the bit to hear what Nate has to say. Not to worry, though. Despite being used in this way, it's not all bad for me. In fact, selfishly, two very good things have happened. The first is that I find preparing a sermon a big responsibility and a bit nerve-wracking, which in turn compels me to read more, study more, think more, pray more. I always feel completely inadequate, and that, paradoxically, turns out to be a very good place to be. So despite my early misgivings, by the time I'm finally ready and up here on stage, it's been such a spiritually rich experience for me that I'm truly excited and deeply grateful for the opportunity. Trying to get a little more light, excuse me. The other really good thing that's happened is that even though we are now in our third week of the sermon series on Jesus' Beatitudes, I got to pick which Beatitude to talk about. And I picked Jesus' first one, my favorite one. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. It's the first Beatitude and my favorite because it reveals an absolutely essential truth for each of us, regardless of station or circumstance. I was raised in a modern split-level suburban house wedged between Chicago Proper and O'Hare Airport. Down in the family room, my father had a large bookshelf filled with all sorts of fabulous books. Works of Shakespeare, Winston Churchill's six-volume set on World War II, Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, Contiki by Thor Heyerdahl, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, and on and on. I didn't actually read many of them, and for sure none of the Shakespeare's. I could not make head nor tail of his Elizabethan English. But I loved taking the books down and paging through them. However, there was one book I actually did read a lot. This little book, 101 Famous Poems. I came to treasure this little book so much that when I was leaving home for good, I just took it from my parents' house without a word, and obviously have kept it since. I have many weaknesses and vices, some of which I freely admit and openly share, and others which I only acknowledge to God as they are embarrassing and a source of personal disappointment and even shame. But I can confidently say that stealing is not one of them, except perhaps this one time. Vice of mine or not, I couldn't think of a more fitting way to introduce today's beatitude than by reading the following poem from a book that I stole from my own parents. The Fool's Prayer by Edward Sill. The royal feast was done. The king sought some new sport to banish care, and to his jester cried, Sir fool, kneel down and make for us a prayer. The jester doffed his cap and bells and stood the mocking court before. They could not see the bitter smile behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head and bent his knee upon the monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. No pity, Lord, can change the heart from red with wrong to white as wool. The rod must heal the sin, but Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. Tis not by guilt the onward sweep of truth and right, O Lord, we stay. Tis by our follies that so long we hold the earth from heaven away. These clumsy feet still in the mire go crushing blossoms without end. These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust among the heartstrings of a friend. The old-time truth we might have kept, who knows how sharp it pierced and stung. The word we had not sense to say, who knows how grandly it had rung. Our faults no tenderness should ask, the chastening stripes must cleanse them all, but for our blunders, oh, and shame, before the eyes of heaven we fall. Earth bears no balsam for mistakes. Men crown the knave and scourge the tool that did his will. But thou, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. The rooms hushed, and silence rose the king and sought his gardens cool, and walked apart and murmured low, be merciful to me, a fool. There are a million reasons why I love that poem. It tells of a surprise, a reversal in the accepted order. The greater brought low and it is the jester, not the king, who is wise. Everyone is equal before God. Everyone is lost. Everyone in need. It resonates because in our heart of hearts, we know it's true. It is the Upside down and inside out in virtually every way imaginable. And if I was in a court of law having to prove that point, I might start with the Beatitudes as my exhibit A. or the happy and healthy or the beautiful or the self-sufficient. But blessed are those who know that before God, they are a spiritual dumpster fire without merit and utterly undeserving of God's favor and blessing. That is what it means biblically to be poor in spirit. And that is a radically different take on how one goes about getting on God's good side. But a bit differently, the only thing that qualifies you or me to experience God's blessing is to honestly confess that we don't deserve to experience it at all. And why is that admission that we are utterly undeserving and without merit such a big deal? Because it's an acknowledgement that we are not okay, that we are separated from God and in desperate straits. And that, although it might seem initially like a depressing admission, in fact is a magnificent, mind-blowing blessing from God because it creates and fosters in us a posture receptive to his free offer of mercy, grace, and forgiveness through his son, Jesus Christ. In the book of Luke, Jesus tells a very famous story, the parable of the prodigal son that illustrates precisely this point. As many of you might recall, a man has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, an act of enormous disrespect and outright rebellion in those days given that the father was still alive. The younger son then takes his share to a distant land where he proceeds to completely squander it on wild living. Predictably, he eventually falls on to hard times. Poverty, hunger, utter destitution. When he finally hits rock bottom, he has an epiphany. Realizing that he had sinned against his father and was no longer worthy of being called his father's son, he decides to return home and beg for mercy. But the father, seeing his son approaching in the distance, runs to him and hugs and kisses him and then throws a lavish party in the younger son's honor. All the while, the older son was having a fit, refusing to go into the party despite his father coming out and pleading with him to do so. The father tried to explain that everything he had was the older son's and that he was always with him. But all the older son could think about was the unfairness of it all. How obedient and hardworking he had been, how deserving, certainly compared to his brother. Although the extravagant, unmerited love and forgiveness the father offered his youngest son is breathtaking in that story, there is another key takeaway, the remarkable contrast between the fates of the two sons, a complete reversal of what we would suspect. The younger son failed spectacularly, but in so doing was brought to a place in which he clearly acknowledged that he stood before his father without a claim. Albeit not by his design, and certainly not something he signed up for, the younger son, through his ordeal, had become poor in spirit. And as a result of that condition, that posture, he experienced the mercy, forgiveness, and grace freely offered to him by his father. Tragically, his older son, convinced of his own righteousness and merit, was blinded to what his father was always offering him. And at the end of the day, it was the younger, the prodigal son who was advantaged and blessed, and it was the older who remained lost. Admittedly, those takeaways are somewhat nuanced and subtle, so I'll read another parable from Luke This is in Luke 18. some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked downterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Jesus goes on to say, I tell you that this man, the tax collector, rather than the other, went home justified before God. That word means made right before him, declared not guilty. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. It's pretty straightforward. The Pharisee thought he was okay and was not. The tax collector knew he was not and was blessed. Over the previous two weeks, Nates explained that our English translation of blessed doesn't do justice to what Jesus was talking about in the Beatitudes. More than happy, more than good fortune, more than favorable circumstances. Biblically, the word refers to an eternal security and well-being that aren't at all dependent on our feelings and circumstances. Regardless how difficult or unpromising things might seem at the time. And to be given the kingdom of heaven is simply another way of referring to salvation, redeemed by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's the ultimate blessedness, beginning first in this life, but ultimately culminating in an eternity with God. So this first beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, is second to none in importance as all roads to God's blessing and favor run through it. And there's a lot at stake, as it's my belief, that realizing one's desperate need is the single biggest stumbling block for people coming to faith to Jesus Christ. After all, salvation doesn't mean much if you're not convinced you need saving. But as critical as it is to recognize one's need, it's not sufficient. It's necessary, but just like in the story of the prodigal son, one must, in faith, return to the father to experience his goodness. Now, some may feel the urge to protest. Hey, Doug, I'm not that bad a person. In fact, I'm a pretty good person. In response, I'd say, that may very well be true. You may be a good person. Not only is that a very low bar, it's also the wrong bar. So why do we have to admit that we're spiritually bankrupt? The simplest answer is that it's true. I've often made the point that if I ever meet someone who seems like they have their act totally together, I simply conclude that I must not know them well enough. Although trying to be funny when I say that, I believe it's true. You might accuse me of being overly cynical, but I don't think so, and neither does Scripture. As the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans, there is no one righteous, not even one. And a few verses later, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified, there's that word again, declared not guilty, made right with God, freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ. And in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul makes the so that no one can boast. The kingdom of heaven, God's ultimate blessing and desire for each of us is simply not attained by the good things we might do, no matter how many or how good. Rather, it's reserved for the poor in spirit. Now, why is it so hard for us to admit our poverty and desperate need? There are lots of reasons, but the biggest is sin itself. In a massive, universal catch-22, it's our own sinfulness which keeps us from seeing how sinful we actually are. Virtually everything in our nature is singing a different tune. Hey, I'm really not that bad, and I'm certainly not totally helpless. I have agency. At its core, it's human pride, an implicit assertion of our own sovereignty, that we can steer our own ship. Thank you very much. We can figure out what's best for us. Confessing one's spiritual bankruptcy and abject need so completely rubs against the grain of everything our world tells us that even among the world's great religions, Christianity alone invokes such a confession. In all the others, there are things one can and even must do to get in God's good graces. It's transactional in a sense. I've done this or that. I've earned it, so God owes me. And I should get at least some of the credit. In essence, I'm the one in the driver's seat. Whereas the Christian gospel in polar opposition asserts that God did it. Everything. And he gets the credit. All of it. I did absolutely nothing and am in his debt. Truly being poor in spirit has always been a challenge for humankind, and it's not getting any easier. Virtue signaling is a term that's gained a lot of traction in our popular culture, and although the term may be relatively new, the concept is not. As human beings, since time immemorial, have sought ways to assert their own virtue. Perhaps it's where we live, who we associate with, the church we attend, the good things we do, our families, our social setting, our vocation, our possessions, our education, our politics, you name it, we find a way to do it and have always found ways to do it. But But the temptation of virtue signal today is greater than ever. Advances in technology and communication, though life-changing and transformative in many, many ways, have a dark side. The platform, audience, and access each of us is now afforded are unrivaled in human history, and not all for the good. Without a doubt, there's great value in having a marketplace for ideas, social discourse, advocacy, and the like. But the ease with which we can now signal our virtue is nectar to our innate human desire to build ourselves up. It seems as if our entire society, certainly our media, entertainment, politics, commerce, have all become performance art. Everyone morphing into little Torquemadas, Spanish inquisitors, casting about, looking for those not thinking right, not speaking right, not acting right, not looking right, not voting right, not caring enough about the right things, caring too much about the wrong things, we've become quicker than ever to accuse and condemn. I'm not even on social media to speak of, yet I'm still caught up in this overall mood of the times. On my news feed each morning, I'll read something about an entertainer or politician or businessman or some journalist, and I'll immediately think to myself, what a twit. What a moron, an idiot. It's judgment. It's pride. An implicit comparison between me and the object of my ridicule and scorn. An assertion of my own virtue. I'm marinating in my rightness, goodness, and wisdom when I do that. How different is that from the Pharisee and the parable I read earlier? Thank God I'm not like that tax collector. I'll tell you what virtue signaling is not. It's not like anything resembling Jesus Christ and is absolutely antithetical to the gospel news, excuse me, to the good news of the gospel. Virtue signaling has a corrosive effect on us and social media hasn't helped but only amplified. After all, I already have these impulses to want to be right and viewed as smart and virtuous. I don't need them so easily catered to. It turns out the Pharisees, the Jewish religious leaders of the day, were the first century's poster children for what today we call virtue signaling. Everything they did was performative for others to see and admire, totally wrapped up in an external righteousness rather than the real deal. And if one reads a little further in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reserved his harshest and most withering criticism and contempt for them, declaring that when Pharisees gave, prayed, and fasted in public for the praise and affirmation of men that they had received their reward in full. Convinced and satisfied with their own righteousness, they could not see their desperate need. They were far, far away from being poor in spirit and far, far away from the kingdom of heaven. Personally, I do not find these times we live in very helpful if I genuinely desire to walk the walk rather than just talk the talk of my faith. They do not cultivate in me a posture receptive to grace, nor encourage me to offer grace, empathy, and mercy to others. Rather, what is cultivated in me is a spirit of judgment, superiority, and disdain. Very hard to reconcile with Jesus' words, for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Although we all virtue signal in some form or fashion, it's especially harmful when done by believers, those of us who profess to be followers of Christ. The temptation to signal our virtue has always been and continues to be an enormous Achilles heel for Christians and for the church. We are susceptible, because we still sin, to moving away over time from our initial confession of brokenness and need, of being poor in spirit, to something quite different. For example, I'm an elder here at Grace. I lead a couple of small groups. I volunteer in the toddler room. Man, I even went on a mission trip last fall. Sure, Christ died for my sins, but look at me now. I think we can all safely agree that I'm nailing it, right? Go me! Now those things I'm doing aren't bad. In fact, they're good things. It's my pride that's a problem. My lens has moved stealthily, covertly from my need to my merit. What I'm now presenting in my life is not the gospel and it's not the truth and is terribly misleading to anyone genuinely searching for the truth. So what can we do about this state of things? As I reflect on today's beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I'm convinced we'd be better off signaling our vices more and our virtues less. More emphasis on what Christ has done on our behalf and less of what we've done on his. Being poor in spirit, confessing our spiritual poverty and need is not intended to be a one-time event, but only the beginning of a lifelong transformation empowered by God's Holy Spirit. We tend to underestimate the amazing power and ongoing blessing being poor in spirit offers to each of us individually and to the church as a whole. When we embrace our weakness and need, it's a much more honest and compelling witness of Jesus Christ than when we don't. I find it very revealing that the following brief little episode was deemed important enough to be included in three of the four Gospels, accounts of Jesus' life and ministry. Matthew, the disciple and former tax collector, was hosting a great banquet at his house for Jesus, along with a large crowd of tax collectors and other unsavory sorts. The Pharisees complained. Of course they did. Every party needs a poop. Asking why Jesus was dining and hanging out with these sinners, Jesus answered them as follows. It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. If the church is to be a welcoming, grace-filled infirmary that it's designed to be, rather than an exclusive enclave for the moral and virtuous. It's a shame that we so often act and are perceived as if we're the latter rather than the former. There is no advantage to clinging to these pretenses. We in the church are far more appealing and credible when we don't. One of the things I've always loved and valued most about grace is that we have, for the most part, leaned into the notion that we do not have our act together and hold such a confession to not only be self-evident, but hopeful, attractive, and life-giving. And though admitting one's abject spiritual poverty and desperate need might be a giant, depressing downer in the world's eyes, it offers great comfort and new life to those who actually know themselves to be sinners. Now, it's important to note that we can't make ourselves poor in spirit. It's not something we can do or become on our own. It's the work of God's Holy Spirit who convicts us of our sin and draws us to Jesus. But we can certainly cooperate with the Spirit. How we respond matters. We can remind ourselves through prayer, study, and worship that we are now in Jesus Christ not through anything we've done. When we embrace that defining fact that we are not Christ due to our being either moral or good, but because we've been forgiven, rescued, and redeemed, it unlocks the door to the magnificence of grace and grows our appetite to extend grace to others. Speaking only for myself, when I'm poor in spirit, there is a softening in my heart, a little more empathy and tolerance of others, a little less focused on others' deficiencies, a little more patient, a little more inclined to forgive. I'd like to close with one final remarkable and eye-opening parable from the book of Luke, which has such profound implications that I don't think it gets the attention that it deserves. Jesus was invited to dine at one of the Pharisees' houses. Learning of this, a woman from town who had led an immoral life brought perfume and stood behind Jesus at his feet, weeping. Wetting his feet with her tears, she then wiped them with her hair, kissed, and poured perfume on them. The Pharisee was indignant, thinking to himself that if Jesus was truly a prophet, he would have known that the woman touching him was a sinner and how wrong this entire situation was. Knowing what his host was thinking, Jesus asked the Pharisee a question. He supposed the one who had the bigger debt canceled. You have judged correctly, Nor did she put oil on my head, but she has covered my feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little, loves little. Jesus then said to the woman, your sins are forgiven. Once again, the gospel turns everything we know on its head. It's not the upstanding and righteous who are most inclined and most able to love, but those who most appreciate the depth of their need for forgiveness, mercy, and grace, the poor in spirit. It literally is the gift that keeps on giving and the blessing that keeps on blessing. This moment in our culture, with all its acrimony and angst, presents an opportune time for us to offer something different, to truly be salt and light in a lost world that really just seems like it's thrashing about. In addition to being biblical and true, it's a lot more attractive and inviting to others when our lives reflect a healthy circumspection and wariness of our own virtue. And a well-founded confidence and well-placed trust in the righteousness and redemption offered through Jesus Christ. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Not only is poorness in spirit key to God's kingdom for us, it's the key to the kingdom for the world. There's a lot at stake. Let's pray. Dear Lord, thank you for this morning. Thank you for your love. Thank you for the fact that we can stand before you without a claim, and you love us. That's what you expect. You're our God. You, your righteousness, your love, your grace and mercy are sufficient for us. Thank you for this morning. Pray that you'll use it to however you see fit. And I thank you for being merciful to me, a fool. Amen.

Good morning. My name is Doug Bergeson and I'm a partner here at Grace. It's exciting and a privilege to be up here this morning. So thank you all for coming and thanks as well to all those who are listening elsewhere. Although I probably shouldn't admit this, I wasn't initially excited about the prospect of speaking this morning. In fact, and as my wife Debbie will attest, when Nate first texted me to ask, my initial gut reaction was pretty much the same as it's always been when asked to speak. Texting Nate back, I wrote, hey, I was thinking that with Kyle and Aaron in the bullpen, perhaps my speaking days were coming to a close. And Nate replied, and I quote, we have a lot in the bullpen to be sure, but I think the church is best served through multiple voices, and I'd like for Grace to hear from you again, if possible. Now, I totally subscribe to the idea that hearing from a variety of voices is a healthy and good thing. But after a few moments, I thought to myself, hey, wait a minute, he didn't really answer my question. Why ask me and not the other more capable and willing voices? And this is where, if you're squeamish and like your safe spaces, you should cover your ears and avert your eyes, because I'm going to give you a glimpse into the seeming underbelly of church life. Nate's a gifted speaker and does a great job of conveying the truth of Scripture. He's also pretty smart. Not super smart, but pretty smart. And he's very clever. But most of all, he's cunning. Not pretty cunning. I mean really, really cunning. And he understands that no matter how good his sermons might be, it's an inevitable human tendency as night follows day for people to start taking things for granted, including his sermons. So for Nate, what better way to solve this problem than to remind everyone just how dry, pointless, and uninspiring a sermon can be if not done well. And what better way to do that than to trot me up here every six months or so. Voila. Presto change-o. Problem solved. Next Sunday morning, people will be streaming early to Grace just to get a seat, chomping at the bit to hear what Nate has to say. Not to worry, though. Despite being used in this way, it's not all bad for me. In fact, selfishly, two very good things have happened. The first is that I find preparing a sermon a big responsibility and a bit nerve-wracking, which in turn compels me to read more, study more, think more, pray more. I always feel completely inadequate, and that, paradoxically, turns out to be a very good place to be. So despite my early misgivings, by the time I'm finally ready and up here on stage, it's been such a spiritually rich experience for me that I'm truly excited and deeply grateful for the opportunity. Trying to get a little more light, excuse me. The other really good thing that's happened is that even though we are now in our third week of the sermon series on Jesus' Beatitudes, I got to pick which Beatitude to talk about. And I picked Jesus' first one, my favorite one. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. It's the first Beatitude and my favorite because it reveals an absolutely essential truth for each of us, regardless of station or circumstance. I was raised in a modern split-level suburban house wedged between Chicago Proper and O'Hare Airport. Down in the family room, my father had a large bookshelf filled with all sorts of fabulous books. Works of Shakespeare, Winston Churchill's six-volume set on World War II, Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, Contiki by Thor Heyerdahl, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, and on and on. I didn't actually read many of them, and for sure none of the Shakespeare's. I could not make head nor tail of his Elizabethan English. But I loved taking the books down and paging through them. However, there was one book I actually did read a lot. This little book, 101 Famous Poems. I came to treasure this little book so much that when I was leaving home for good, I just took it from my parents' house without a word, and obviously have kept it since. I have many weaknesses and vices, some of which I freely admit and openly share, and others which I only acknowledge to God as they are embarrassing and a source of personal disappointment and even shame. But I can confidently say that stealing is not one of them, except perhaps this one time. Vice of mine or not, I couldn't think of a more fitting way to introduce today's beatitude than by reading the following poem from a book that I stole from my own parents. The Fool's Prayer by Edward Sill. The royal feast was done. The king sought some new sport to banish care, and to his jester cried, Sir fool, kneel down and make for us a prayer. The jester doffed his cap and bells and stood the mocking court before. They could not see the bitter smile behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head and bent his knee upon the monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. No pity, Lord, can change the heart from red with wrong to white as wool. The rod must heal the sin, but Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. Tis not by guilt the onward sweep of truth and right, O Lord, we stay. Tis by our follies that so long we hold the earth from heaven away. These clumsy feet still in the mire go crushing blossoms without end. These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust among the heartstrings of a friend. The old-time truth we might have kept, who knows how sharp it pierced and stung. The word we had not sense to say, who knows how grandly it had rung. Our faults no tenderness should ask, the chastening stripes must cleanse them all, but for our blunders, oh, and shame, before the eyes of heaven we fall. Earth bears no balsam for mistakes. Men crown the knave and scourge the tool that did his will. But thou, O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool. The rooms hushed, and silence rose the king and sought his gardens cool, and walked apart and murmured low, be merciful to me, a fool. There are a million reasons why I love that poem. It tells of a surprise, a reversal in the accepted order. The greater brought low and it is the jester, not the king, who is wise. Everyone is equal before God. Everyone is lost. Everyone in need. It resonates because in our heart of hearts, we know it's true. It is the Upside down and inside out in virtually every way imaginable. And if I was in a court of law having to prove that point, I might start with the Beatitudes as my exhibit A. or the happy and healthy or the beautiful or the self-sufficient. But blessed are those who know that before God, they are a spiritual dumpster fire without merit and utterly undeserving of God's favor and blessing. That is what it means biblically to be poor in spirit. And that is a radically different take on how one goes about getting on God's good side. But a bit differently, the only thing that qualifies you or me to experience God's blessing is to honestly confess that we don't deserve to experience it at all. And why is that admission that we are utterly undeserving and without merit such a big deal? Because it's an acknowledgement that we are not okay, that we are separated from God and in desperate straits. And that, although it might seem initially like a depressing admission, in fact is a magnificent, mind-blowing blessing from God because it creates and fosters in us a posture receptive to his free offer of mercy, grace, and forgiveness through his son, Jesus Christ. In the book of Luke, Jesus tells a very famous story, the parable of the prodigal son that illustrates precisely this point. As many of you might recall, a man has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, an act of enormous disrespect and outright rebellion in those days given that the father was still alive. The younger son then takes his share to a distant land where he proceeds to completely squander it on wild living. Predictably, he eventually falls on to hard times. Poverty, hunger, utter destitution. When he finally hits rock bottom, he has an epiphany. Realizing that he had sinned against his father and was no longer worthy of being called his father's son, he decides to return home and beg for mercy. But the father, seeing his son approaching in the distance, runs to him and hugs and kisses him and then throws a lavish party in the younger son's honor. All the while, the older son was having a fit, refusing to go into the party despite his father coming out and pleading with him to do so. The father tried to explain that everything he had was the older son's and that he was always with him. But all the older son could think about was the unfairness of it all. How obedient and hardworking he had been, how deserving, certainly compared to his brother. Although the extravagant, unmerited love and forgiveness the father offered his youngest son is breathtaking in that story, there is another key takeaway, the remarkable contrast between the fates of the two sons, a complete reversal of what we would suspect. The younger son failed spectacularly, but in so doing was brought to a place in which he clearly acknowledged that he stood before his father without a claim. Albeit not by his design, and certainly not something he signed up for, the younger son, through his ordeal, had become poor in spirit. And as a result of that condition, that posture, he experienced the mercy, forgiveness, and grace freely offered to him by his father. Tragically, his older son, convinced of his own righteousness and merit, was blinded to what his father was always offering him. And at the end of the day, it was the younger, the prodigal son who was advantaged and blessed, and it was the older who remained lost. Admittedly, those takeaways are somewhat nuanced and subtle, so I'll read another parable from Luke This is in Luke 18. some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked downterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Jesus goes on to say, I tell you that this man, the tax collector, rather than the other, went home justified before God. That word means made right before him, declared not guilty. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. It's pretty straightforward. The Pharisee thought he was okay and was not. The tax collector knew he was not and was blessed. Over the previous two weeks, Nates explained that our English translation of blessed doesn't do justice to what Jesus was talking about in the Beatitudes. More than happy, more than good fortune, more than favorable circumstances. Biblically, the word refers to an eternal security and well-being that aren't at all dependent on our feelings and circumstances. Regardless how difficult or unpromising things might seem at the time. And to be given the kingdom of heaven is simply another way of referring to salvation, redeemed by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's the ultimate blessedness, beginning first in this life, but ultimately culminating in an eternity with God. So this first beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, is second to none in importance as all roads to God's blessing and favor run through it. And there's a lot at stake, as it's my belief, that realizing one's desperate need is the single biggest stumbling block for people coming to faith to Jesus Christ. After all, salvation doesn't mean much if you're not convinced you need saving. But as critical as it is to recognize one's need, it's not sufficient. It's necessary, but just like in the story of the prodigal son, one must, in faith, return to the father to experience his goodness. Now, some may feel the urge to protest. Hey, Doug, I'm not that bad a person. In fact, I'm a pretty good person. In response, I'd say, that may very well be true. You may be a good person. Not only is that a very low bar, it's also the wrong bar. So why do we have to admit that we're spiritually bankrupt? The simplest answer is that it's true. I've often made the point that if I ever meet someone who seems like they have their act totally together, I simply conclude that I must not know them well enough. Although trying to be funny when I say that, I believe it's true. You might accuse me of being overly cynical, but I don't think so, and neither does Scripture. As the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans, there is no one righteous, not even one. And a few verses later, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified, there's that word again, declared not guilty, made right with God, freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ. And in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul makes the so that no one can boast. The kingdom of heaven, God's ultimate blessing and desire for each of us is simply not attained by the good things we might do, no matter how many or how good. Rather, it's reserved for the poor in spirit. Now, why is it so hard for us to admit our poverty and desperate need? There are lots of reasons, but the biggest is sin itself. In a massive, universal catch-22, it's our own sinfulness which keeps us from seeing how sinful we actually are. Virtually everything in our nature is singing a different tune. Hey, I'm really not that bad, and I'm certainly not totally helpless. I have agency. At its core, it's human pride, an implicit assertion of our own sovereignty, that we can steer our own ship. Thank you very much. We can figure out what's best for us. Confessing one's spiritual bankruptcy and abject need so completely rubs against the grain of everything our world tells us that even among the world's great religions, Christianity alone invokes such a confession. In all the others, there are things one can and even must do to get in God's good graces. It's transactional in a sense. I've done this or that. I've earned it, so God owes me. And I should get at least some of the credit. In essence, I'm the one in the driver's seat. Whereas the Christian gospel in polar opposition asserts that God did it. Everything. And he gets the credit. All of it. I did absolutely nothing and am in his debt. Truly being poor in spirit has always been a challenge for humankind, and it's not getting any easier. Virtue signaling is a term that's gained a lot of traction in our popular culture, and although the term may be relatively new, the concept is not. As human beings, since time immemorial, have sought ways to assert their own virtue. Perhaps it's where we live, who we associate with, the church we attend, the good things we do, our families, our social setting, our vocation, our possessions, our education, our politics, you name it, we find a way to do it and have always found ways to do it. But But the temptation of virtue signal today is greater than ever. Advances in technology and communication, though life-changing and transformative in many, many ways, have a dark side. The platform, audience, and access each of us is now afforded are unrivaled in human history, and not all for the good. Without a doubt, there's great value in having a marketplace for ideas, social discourse, advocacy, and the like. But the ease with which we can now signal our virtue is nectar to our innate human desire to build ourselves up. It seems as if our entire society, certainly our media, entertainment, politics, commerce, have all become performance art. Everyone morphing into little Torquemadas, Spanish inquisitors, casting about, looking for those not thinking right, not speaking right, not acting right, not looking right, not voting right, not caring enough about the right things, caring too much about the wrong things, we've become quicker than ever to accuse and condemn. I'm not even on social media to speak of, yet I'm still caught up in this overall mood of the times. On my news feed each morning, I'll read something about an entertainer or politician or businessman or some journalist, and I'll immediately think to myself, what a twit. What a moron, an idiot. It's judgment. It's pride. An implicit comparison between me and the object of my ridicule and scorn. An assertion of my own virtue. I'm marinating in my rightness, goodness, and wisdom when I do that. How different is that from the Pharisee and the parable I read earlier? Thank God I'm not like that tax collector. I'll tell you what virtue signaling is not. It's not like anything resembling Jesus Christ and is absolutely antithetical to the gospel news, excuse me, to the good news of the gospel. Virtue signaling has a corrosive effect on us and social media hasn't helped but only amplified. After all, I already have these impulses to want to be right and viewed as smart and virtuous. I don't need them so easily catered to. It turns out the Pharisees, the Jewish religious leaders of the day, were the first century's poster children for what today we call virtue signaling. Everything they did was performative for others to see and admire, totally wrapped up in an external righteousness rather than the real deal. And if one reads a little further in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reserved his harshest and most withering criticism and contempt for them, declaring that when Pharisees gave, prayed, and fasted in public for the praise and affirmation of men that they had received their reward in full. Convinced and satisfied with their own righteousness, they could not see their desperate need. They were far, far away from being poor in spirit and far, far away from the kingdom of heaven. Personally, I do not find these times we live in very helpful if I genuinely desire to walk the walk rather than just talk the talk of my faith. They do not cultivate in me a posture receptive to grace, nor encourage me to offer grace, empathy, and mercy to others. Rather, what is cultivated in me is a spirit of judgment, superiority, and disdain. Very hard to reconcile with Jesus' words, for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Although we all virtue signal in some form or fashion, it's especially harmful when done by believers, those of us who profess to be followers of Christ. The temptation to signal our virtue has always been and continues to be an enormous Achilles heel for Christians and for the church. We are susceptible, because we still sin, to moving away over time from our initial confession of brokenness and need, of being poor in spirit, to something quite different. For example, I'm an elder here at Grace. I lead a couple of small groups. I volunteer in the toddler room. Man, I even went on a mission trip last fall. Sure, Christ died for my sins, but look at me now. I think we can all safely agree that I'm nailing it, right? Go me! Now those things I'm doing aren't bad. In fact, they're good things. It's my pride that's a problem. My lens has moved stealthily, covertly from my need to my merit. What I'm now presenting in my life is not the gospel and it's not the truth and is terribly misleading to anyone genuinely searching for the truth. So what can we do about this state of things? As I reflect on today's beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I'm convinced we'd be better off signaling our vices more and our virtues less. More emphasis on what Christ has done on our behalf and less of what we've done on his. Being poor in spirit, confessing our spiritual poverty and need is not intended to be a one-time event, but only the beginning of a lifelong transformation empowered by God's Holy Spirit. We tend to underestimate the amazing power and ongoing blessing being poor in spirit offers to each of us individually and to the church as a whole. When we embrace our weakness and need, it's a much more honest and compelling witness of Jesus Christ than when we don't. I find it very revealing that the following brief little episode was deemed important enough to be included in three of the four Gospels, accounts of Jesus' life and ministry. Matthew, the disciple and former tax collector, was hosting a great banquet at his house for Jesus, along with a large crowd of tax collectors and other unsavory sorts. The Pharisees complained. Of course they did. Every party needs a poop. Asking why Jesus was dining and hanging out with these sinners, Jesus answered them as follows. It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. If the church is to be a welcoming, grace-filled infirmary that it's designed to be, rather than an exclusive enclave for the moral and virtuous. It's a shame that we so often act and are perceived as if we're the latter rather than the former. There is no advantage to clinging to these pretenses. We in the church are far more appealing and credible when we don't. One of the things I've always loved and valued most about grace is that we have, for the most part, leaned into the notion that we do not have our act together and hold such a confession to not only be self-evident, but hopeful, attractive, and life-giving. And though admitting one's abject spiritual poverty and desperate need might be a giant, depressing downer in the world's eyes, it offers great comfort and new life to those who actually know themselves to be sinners. Now, it's important to note that we can't make ourselves poor in spirit. It's not something we can do or become on our own. It's the work of God's Holy Spirit who convicts us of our sin and draws us to Jesus. But we can certainly cooperate with the Spirit. How we respond matters. We can remind ourselves through prayer, study, and worship that we are now in Jesus Christ not through anything we've done. When we embrace that defining fact that we are not Christ due to our being either moral or good, but because we've been forgiven, rescued, and redeemed, it unlocks the door to the magnificence of grace and grows our appetite to extend grace to others. Speaking only for myself, when I'm poor in spirit, there is a softening in my heart, a little more empathy and tolerance of others, a little less focused on others' deficiencies, a little more patient, a little more inclined to forgive. I'd like to close with one final remarkable and eye-opening parable from the book of Luke, which has such profound implications that I don't think it gets the attention that it deserves. Jesus was invited to dine at one of the Pharisees' houses. Learning of this, a woman from town who had led an immoral life brought perfume and stood behind Jesus at his feet, weeping. Wetting his feet with her tears, she then wiped them with her hair, kissed, and poured perfume on them. The Pharisee was indignant, thinking to himself that if Jesus was truly a prophet, he would have known that the woman touching him was a sinner and how wrong this entire situation was. Knowing what his host was thinking, Jesus asked the Pharisee a question. He supposed the one who had the bigger debt canceled. You have judged correctly, Nor did she put oil on my head, but she has covered my feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven, for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little, loves little. Jesus then said to the woman, your sins are forgiven. Once again, the gospel turns everything we know on its head. It's not the upstanding and righteous who are most inclined and most able to love, but those who most appreciate the depth of their need for forgiveness, mercy, and grace, the poor in spirit. It literally is the gift that keeps on giving and the blessing that keeps on blessing. This moment in our culture, with all its acrimony and angst, presents an opportune time for us to offer something different, to truly be salt and light in a lost world that really just seems like it's thrashing about. In addition to being biblical and true, it's a lot more attractive and inviting to others when our lives reflect a healthy circumspection and wariness of our own virtue. And a well-founded confidence and well-placed trust in the righteousness and redemption offered through Jesus Christ. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Not only is poorness in spirit key to God's kingdom for us, it's the key to the kingdom for the world. There's a lot at stake. Let's pray. Dear Lord, thank you for this morning. Thank you for your love. Thank you for the fact that we can stand before you without a claim, and you love us. That's what you expect. You're our God. You, your righteousness, your love, your grace and mercy are sufficient for us. Thank you for this morning. Pray that you'll use it to however you see fit. And I thank you for being merciful to me, a fool. Amen.

This morning, we are still in the middle of our series called Storyteller, where we are acknowledging that Jesus is the greatest storyteller to ever live. And he actually employed stories called parables in his teaching throughout his ministry. And we'll remember that a parable is a short fictional story used to make a moral point. And it's important this morning that we remember that these are fictional because this one that we're going to focus on this morning is maybe the most mysterious, most layered. It conjures up more questions probably than any other parable. In this parable is a reference to paradise and a reference to Hades and what life is going to look like in eternity. And a lot of people try to read into this parable what eternity must look like and what Jesus was saying about eternity. But what I would say to that before we even jump into the parable found in Luke chapter 16 is that that's not the point that Jesus is trying to make. Jesus isn't trying to paint a picture of eternity in this parable. He's trying to make a larger point that I want us to get to today. And I'm actually talking about this up front because Scripture does have a place where it talks about eternity, where it does fill in some of the blanks on what that's going to look like in heaven and in hell, being with God and being separated from God and what it's going to look like at the end of time. And we find that in the book of Revelation. I've been going back and forth in my own head and in my own heart about whether that was something I wanted to dive into as a church. So I want to invite you this week in your small groups, on your Zoom calls, in your check-ins, discuss this with your small group leader. And I'm going to be getting with the small group leaders and asking for feedback from them. And if Revelation is something that we want to go through as a church sometime in the not-too-distant future, then I would love to do that with you. But I just want to kind of gauge the interest level before we dive into that together because it's quite the undertaking. With that as an aside, we're going to set eternity and what this parable implicates about eternity aside today so that we can see the main focus of the parable. We can find it, like I said, in Luke chapter 16. If you have a Bible there at home, I hope that you'll open it up and go through the text with me. I'm going to read some verses, some of them, like always, I'll summarize. And I love it when you have your Bible open and you're making sure that I'm following along with the story correctly and you're not giving me the benefit of infallibility. I would also encourage, if you're watching this as a family, if you have kids with you, what a cool time to open up mom or dad's Bible and have them gather around and go through and consume and look at the text together. What a great time as a family to be able to gather around one Bible, God's Word, and consume that together. So grab a Bible if you have it and open up to Luke chapter 16. We're going to be in verses 19 through 31. It's in those verses that you'll find the parable of Abraham's bosom. And this is how was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man's table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. So that's how Jesus sets the stage. There's a rich man who had all he wanted every day. He feasted sumptuously, which sounds a little bit like me in quarantine, but this is what he did every day. That's how he lived. And at his gate, there was a poor man named Lazarus who begged, who ate the scraps off of his table. And the implication is that the rich man really didn't pay much attention to him. And Lazarus was so hard up that the dogs would come and lick his sores. I can't imagine the poverty or the sickness that would render you, that would put you in a place where you just said, you know what? Go to town, dogs. That's fine. It breaks my heart to think about someone living like that. And so these are the two characters. These are the two men, the rich man and then the poor man, Lazarus. And they both died at the same time. And in eternity, it says that Lazarus, the poor man, was in Abraham's bosom. Abraham was the forefather of the Hebrew people. That was being with him in eternity is acknowledged as being in paradise. And then there was a chasm, and on the other side of the chasm was Hades. And Hades is always associated with fire and separation from God and suffering. And the rich man was in Hades. And the rich man looks across the chasm and he sees Abraham and he cries out and he requests, Father Abraham, can Lazarus come across this chasm, across this divide, dip his finger in water and just give me a drop of water? I'm burning and I'm thirsty. And what's interesting there, if you look at the text, is Jesus chose very intentionally to have the rich man say, Father Abraham. What he's indicating there in that language is that the rich man was a Jew. The rich man looked to Abraham as his forefather. The Jewish culture at that time very much saw their eternity wrapped up in their lineage. He thought that because he was from the line of Abraham, because God made some promises to Abraham, that those promises applied to him, and simply by birthright, simply because of who he was and how he had lived his life, that he was going to spend eternity in paradise with Abraham and with God. And so what Jesus is saying there, it's one of the layers of this very layered parable, is that this man was a Jew and he thought that his lineage and his heritage was going to get him into heaven for eternity. And it didn't. And now he's having to face that reality. And it's a stark parallel because often to me in the New Testament, I find that there's a parallel between the expectant Jewish community and the expectant church community in the United States in the 21st century. We have plenty of people who are cultural Christians who grow up in church, who because their grandparents were believers, because their parents were believers, because they've always grown up in church, they just think they're automatically going to go to heaven. Even though maybe we've never articulated a faith, there's no evidence of the fruit of the Spirit in our life or that that faith and that love has taken hold of us. We haven't allowed God to come in and radically reprioritize our lives. Christianity remains just kind of a sliver of our life instead of our whole life. And it's entirely possible, we see in this parable, to go through our life expectant because of who we are and where we come from that one day we'll be in eternity because it just works out for us. And this rich man found out, no, that's not how it goes. And we would be wise to acknowledge that if we've been church people our whole life, that's not what gets us into heaven. That's not what allows us to spend eternity with God. What allows us to spend eternity with God is falling on our face and saying, I fall short and Jesus closes the gap and I need him more than anything else. He is the only way to the Father and so I need Jesus in my life and I submit to his lordship in my life. It's to acknowledge that we are sinners in need of a Savior. But the rich man cries out, Father Abraham, can Lazarus please just come across and give me a drop of water? And Abraham explains to the rich man, I'm sorry, man, that's not how this works. This chasm is too deep. It's too wide. It was intentionally placed here so that nobody could go from paradise to Hades and come back. And no one can come from Hades to paradise. It cannot be crossed, so Lazarus can't bring you any water. And the rich man, in response to this, asks what I believe is a heart-wrenching question. He says, okay, fine. Can Lazarus, can you send him back to my father's house? I have five brothers and they need to know about this. They need to know that this is true. They need to know that eternity is not some old wives' tale, that this is actually taking place. They need to know that there is suffering waiting on them, that they are on a path to where I am, and I don't want to be here. Can you please send Lazarus back so that my family doesn't have to suffer like I'm suffering? It's a heart-wrenching question. It's a very human request. It's this realization by the rich man, oh my goodness, all those teachings I heard over the course of my life, they're true. And my brothers are like me. They don't believe them either. Can we please send Lazarus back to prevent them from experiencing what I'm experiencing? I want to know that they're going to be in paradise. I don't want them to put up with this to endure this. But Abraham's response is tough. Look what another reason why I say it's a layered parable because the end of it, he says, if they didn't believe Moses and the prophets, they're not going to believe Lazarus. They're not even going to believe it if someone were to rise from the dead. Jesus is saying to this Jewish crowd that's listening to him, without them even realizing it, in a few weeks, I'm going to die and I'm going to conquer death and raise myself from the dead. And even then, some of you won't believe. He's foreshadowing his own death at the end of this parable. And Abraham's response is tough. The rich man says, please, can Lazarus go and share this message with my brothers to prevent them from coming here. And Abraham says, they have Moses and the prophets. They have what we understand to be the Old Testament. They have the scriptures. They have the Bible. God has spoken to them. And he says, no, no, no, just send Lazarus back. They'll listen to Lazarus. And Abraham says, even if someone is resurrected from the dead, they still will not. If they won't listen to Moses and the prophets, they won't listen to them. And it's this stark message. Your brothers are stubborn. Your other rich brothers are stubborn. They've been exposed to the message. God has been speaking to them. We've told you over and over and over again. Since you were a young boy, you all, your family, had the messages of Moses and of the prophets and of the Old Testament, and God's Word breathed into your life, and you have all chosen not to believe it and not to repent and not to submit to God and there's no other voices that are going to help. The message from this parable that we don't want to miss is that if we think God isn't speaking to us, we probably just aren't listening. If we think God's not speaking to us, if we're having a hard time hearing the voice of God and we're going, God, why don't you say something? Why don't you make your will more clear? Why don't you make yourself more clear? It's probably not that he's not speaking to us. It's far more likely that we're just not listening. It's not that the rich man and his brothers weren't getting spoken to by God. They had the Bible. They had Moses. They grew up in a culture that was designed fundamentally to point them to the Father. But they missed it. And they didn't miss it because God wasn't speaking to them. They missed it because they weren't listening. And haven't we seen this happen in our lives? Haven't we seen this happen in the lives of the people around us? I can't tell you how many conversations I've had over the years with people who are skeptical of the faith. And they'll say something like, you know, if God is real, why doesn't he just make himself more evident? Why does he make it so hard to find him? If God is real, why doesn't he just like show himself front and center? And listen, I don't want to demean or sweep away those questions because they come from a sincere place. They really do. And questions like that make sense to me. But whenever I hear a question like that, I'm just convinced that we're not listening. Because when someone says, if God's real, why doesn't he just come and put himself right in front of us? I think to myself, do you mean Jesus of Nazareth that lived for 33 years and then historically died and was resurrected? Do you mean like that? Or when somebody says, if God's real, why doesn't he make himself evident? I think, do you mean like in nature? Do you mean that God should make himself more evident in his creation? That that's the way that he's chosen to reveal himself to us? Romans 1 says that God has revealed himself to us in nature so that no man is without excuse. When people say, I wonder why God doesn't make himself more evident, I wonder to myself, have you ever looked at the grandeur of a mountain range? Have you ever sat on the peaceful beach and just behold the beauty of a sunset or a sunrise? Have you ever looked at a painting in the sky and not thought, man, God, you nailed that one? Have you ever not sat in the peace and the grandeur of the plains? Have you gone out west and looked at how big and open and wide everything is? Have you been to the Caribbean and seen how crystal blue the waters are? Have you been in the hills and the east coast of the United States and looked at the lush greenery? How do you look at those things and not think, wow, there must be an author to this? Scripture tells us that even if man refuses to praise God, that the rocks cry out, that the heavens declare the glory of God. How can we say that God doesn't make himself more evident when all we have to do is literally step outside and look at his evidence all around us? How can we say that God hasn't made himself evident when we've had the gift of holding a child that we created? One of the things that I marvel at when people say, why doesn't God make himself more evident? I think of this idea of just the size and the scope of the universe. Do you understand that we still haven't found the smallest thing? We still can't find the smallest thing that God created. Years ago, 100 years ago, we thought it was a cell. We thought that a single cell was probably the smallest possible building block of life. And then we developed microscopes and we did some research and we went, oh man, we were way off. There's things that are a lot smaller than this. And then we discovered the atom. We were like, okay, that's got to be the smallest thing. And then we went, oh, that's not the smallest thing. There's like electrons. Those are tiny. And then we went to electrons and we're like, oh my gosh, there's a whole universe of things inside electrons. And no matter how much research we do, we still can't find the smallest, most fundamental thing that all of nature is based on. The universe that God created is infinitesimally small, yet it's unfathomably large. If we zoom out from the smallest thing and look at the largest thing, we still can't comprehend the universe. We still don't understand how it all dances together and hangs there. Science still can't explain the origin of it. Even if we can trace it back through history, through all the different experiments and reading and research that we have, we still don't know how it came into creation besides a creator God. Even Einstein, as he searched for a theory of relativity to stitch together the universe and understand all the things at play here God exists. And we don't just do this with our belief in God, but sometimes we do it circumstantially. Sometimes we're in different circumstances and we'll think to ourselves, why won't God tell me what I should do here? Why can't I hear his voice? I think of an example from several years ago when I was at my previous church. There was a guy who was a good guy, great character, one of my small group leaders. I was a small group pastor, and he and I worked together a fair amount. He came to me and he said, hey, I feel like God has laid on my heart that I need to plant a church. What do you think I should do? And I had to tell him. I'm not one to pull many punches in situations like this. So I had to tell him, listen, man, I don't think you're ready. I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think your family's where it needs to be. I don't think where you need to be. I think you should, that's a good goal. But the timing's probably off. It's probably not the right time. And he said, okay, I hear you, but I think I'm gonna talk to the pastor about this. I said, all right. So he goes and he sits down with our lead pastor and he says, hey, I think the Lord wants me to plant a church. And our lead pastor said the same thing I did. Gosh, it's a good goal. It just doesn't feel like the right time. I really don't think I would support that. And the guy said, okay, I'm going to talk to the elders then. So he goes and he sits in front of the elders and he says, hey, I think God wants me to plant a church and I'd really love you guys to support this. And they unanimously and quickly said, we don't think that's a good idea. And after hearing all of that advice, he went home and he told his wife he was no longer going to plant a church and he was a faithful small group leader for years. No, that's never how that story goes. He went, okay, I hear you guys, but God's leading me in another way. And he went and he left us and he went and he planted a church. And sure enough, within a year and a half, two years, that church didn't exist and he had to figure out life again. And he may be tempted at the end of that road to say, God, where were you? Why weren't you speaking to me? And the truth of it was, God was speaking to him the whole time in a cacophony of voices that he invited into his life as spiritual authorities that he just refused to listen to. It wasn't that God wasn't speaking to him, it's that he wasn't listening. And I believe we all do this. I believe we all search for the voice of God. God, what would you have me do here? God, why don't you show up in this situation? God, why don't you make yourself more evident? When God the whole time has been speaking to us. When God the whole time has put voices in our life, has put his word in our life, has put a church in our life, has put family members in our life to guide us, to serve as his voices, and yet we say we can't hear him. So to me, that's the main point. That if we can't hear God, it's not because he's not speaking, it's because we're not listening. But the interesting question that comes out of that message is, what is it that's preventing us from hearing the voice of God? Why sometimes do we struggle so mightily to hear something that's being spoken so clearly? And I think to find the answer to this, we should examine the contemporaries of Jesus. I think if we look at the religious establishment, at the Pharisees and the religious leaders and the majority of the Jewish people at the time of the life of Christ, who did not believe that Jesus was who he said he was, who were not listening to the message of God. I think if we look to them and try to figure out why was it that they couldn't hear the voice of God, that we may be able to figure out why we can't hear the voice of God. And so as I thought about that question this week, why was it that the religious leaders at the time of Christ couldn't understand what he was saying? What was prohibiting them from hearing Jesus, from hearing the message of God? I came to the conclusion that they couldn't hear God because of their own deafening expectations. They had these expectations playing in their ears that were so deafening that they were drowning out the message that God was trying to communicate to them. I kind of think of it like this. For Christmas, I got maybe the greatest gift that's ever been given, AirPods, for Christmas this year. And AirPods have this great technology in them. It's noise canceling technology so that when you put them in your ears, they begin to actively work to cancel out all the noise in your area. So you can literally turn down the volume of an entire room simply by having these in your ears. It's magical. If you have a four-year-old or a Kyle, I highly recommend these. And then when you partner their noise canceling ability with a song that you may be choosing to play from your phone, you can't hear anything. It's magical. Jen, my wife, hates these things because when they're in, I can't hear anything going on around me. I'm in my own little universe. And the truth of it is that when these are in my ear, I can only hear what I want to hear. I can only hear things that are coming through my phone, things that I have intentionally chosen and told my phone, had these expectations playing in their ear that made them completely unable to hear anything else that God was trying to say to them. Those expectations were deafening. Their expectations of Jesus were that he came to be a physical king. They expected him to be a king, to literally come and sit on the throne of David in Jerusalem, to overthrow Herod, to overthrow Roman rule, to rise Israel to national prominence, to literally take over the whole world and sit in a righteous and glorious divine reign over the planet with the Messiah Jesus on the throne. They expected a physical kingdom. They expected that Jesus was going to come from Jerusalem, not Nazareth, not the country, not be a poor carpenter or probably a stonemason if you really get into the technicalities of the words. They didn't expect that Jesus would be a poor stonemason from Nazareth, from the north of the country. They expected that he would come from Jerusalem, that he would be a member of the religious elite, that he would come up through their institutions, through their religious structure and hierarchy. They envisioned that he would be the high priest, that he would cater to them. They did not think he would carouse with sinners. They did not think he would be friends with prostitutes. They did not think that he would associate himself with people who were not amongst the elite. And what they didn't realize is Jesus came to save sinners. He came to seek the lost. He came to interact with the broken. He came to build a church. He didn't come to establish a physical kingdom and sit on a physical throne. That is too small of a kingdom for our Messiah. He came to earth to establish an eternal spiritual kingdom whose throne is in heaven that he will sit next to his Father and reign on for all of eternity. And we as the church and everyone who becomes a believer is a part of the spiritual kingdom that Jesus came to establish. And all of the Old Testament points to that reality, but because they had their own deafening expectations in their ear, they couldn't hear that message from God, and so they rejected it. Their own deafening expectations caused them to reject the Messiah when he showed up in front of them because they could no longer hear his message. And if that's true of them, it makes me wonder about our expectations. I wonder what expectations we have that are prohibiting us from hearing the message of God. A very easy one is the message of prosperity. There are some men and women who are peddlers of the false gospel of prosperity who teach people that to be a believer means that you will be prosperous, that if you have enough faith, God will give you material blessing. There was actually a televangelist at the beginning of this COVID nonsense who told people in his TV audience that even if you lose your job, if you give your last paycheck to this ministry, God is gonna flourish you. The Bible's very clear that guy's gonna get his, just so we all know. But that's a false gospel. It builds an expectation that to become a believer means I will be prosperous. It means I'm gonna close close the business deal. It means I'm going to get the car. It means I'm going to have the wealth. And it's an incredibly damaging belief because people who are in poverty and subject to that kind of false optimism sign up for faith with the expectation that God is going to make them prosperous. And then when he doesn't, it leaves them shipwrecked on the side of the road with no faith and no hope in a God that they should have never believed in in the first place. It's a false gospel. And that expectation built up that because I'm a believer, God is going to prosper me is a false expectation, and when it doesn't come to fruition, it shipwrecks their faith. And I don't know where we're getting that in the Bible because Jesus himself was poor. He says, He said, He said, He didn't have a lot of extra money to throw together. A lot of times their meals came down to just the amount of bread that they had. Nowhere in the Bible does it state that if we are believers that we will be prosperous, yet that expectation exists and persists and wrecks people's faith along the way. One that we are probably more susceptible to in our crowd and in our culture, and I've seen this over and over again in the lives of people, is the expectation that to be a believer means that God is going to prevent pain. That if I'm a believer, if I'm walking with God, if I'm walking faithfully, if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, then he is going to allow me to dodge the raindrops of tragedy in my life. That if we'll just dot our I's and cross our T's and mind our business and do what God asks us to do, then we're not going to get the tough diagnosis and neither is anyone that we love. We're not going to experience that loss and neither will anyone in our immediate circle. That to be a believer is an insurance policy that God is going to protect me against pain. A lot of us have that expectation. We might not say it that way, but it exists. And we know it exists because I've seen so many people who have a solid faith who experience loss or tragedy for the first time, and that faith is shaken to its core. Do you know why it's shaken to its core? Because part of the foundation of that faith was an expectation that my God will prevent me from pain and tragedy when God does not claim that in Scripture anywhere. Sometimes it's built on poor teaching on verses like Romans 8.28 that teach, for we know that for those who love him, that all things work together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose. And some people want to apply that to this life right now, saying that no matter what happens, it's going to work out for our good. When really what that verse means is God is orchestrating everything to bring us nearer to him in eternity, that everything will work out for those who love him, for their ultimate good, for eternity in paradise. It might not work out in this life, but it will always work out in the next life. But when we have this expectation that to be a believer is to prevent us from pain, we will inevitably experience pain that runs contrary to that expectation. And I don't know how we got this idea because all through the Bible are people who suffer for God. When God speaks to a prophet named Ananias, he tells him that Saul is his chosen instrument to reach the Gentiles. And get this, he will show him how much he must suffer for his name. That same Saul becomes Paul and details at the end of his life, all the ways he suffered for God through the years. Even Jesus himself, we don't talk about this a lot, but by the end of Jesus' life, Joseph, his earthly father, is not on the scene anymore. So it's entirely possible that somewhere in Jesus' adolescence, his mother became a single mom. It's entirely possible that Jesus experienced part of adolescence. The Son of God experienced life, potentially, as someone who lost his earthly father in a single-parent home. Does that sound like God protects people from suffering all the time? James tells us whenever we endure trials to consider it pure joy. Not if we endure them, but when we do. If we want to have a healthy, accurate, vibrant understanding of God, we have to move away from the expectation that to be walking with him means that we get to dodge the raindrops of pain. That's not a scriptural teaching. And that expectation leaves our faith shipwrecked. Another one, another expectation that I see is the expectation that God's going to make sense. The expectation that we'll be able to understand the almighty, infinite creator God. That if I just read enough books, if I can just systematize it enough, if I can just ask the right questions, if I can just seek out the right answers, then one day everything will tie up in this nice, neat little bow when theologically and experientially and philosophically I'll be able to understand God in a way that is satisfactory to me. When Romans 11 says His ways are higher than our ways. When Psalms says that His ways are unsearchable and unknowable and inscrutable. How can we expect to know an infinite creator God who knows good and well what the smallest thing is because He created it and He knows how big the universe is and how it hangs in place because he created it. How can we think that that massive God can be tucked into a little, tight, neat box so that my human understanding can grasp it and explain it to others all the time? It's unreasonable. And then sometimes when we can't make sense of some of the things that God says or does because we can't fit it into our human box of understanding, we walk away from him because of this false expectation that we should be able to understand him all the time. When the Bible doesn't advocate that, it doesn't tell us that we can. We can understand bits and pieces. We can know him, but we won't fully know him until we are in eternity. The last expectation that I would point out to you this morning is the false expectation that the morality of God would mirror the morality of our culture. I've been alive for 39 years. And in those 39 years, I've watched the needle on certain topics move. I've watched our culture say that in one decade, this behavior is unacceptable. And in another decade, say no longer is it not unacceptable, but it is embraceable. And if you don't, then you're wrong. I've watched that needle move where this behavior was wrong and now it is right, where this was something that we don't even really speak about because it's uncouth and now we embrace it and we support it. And sometimes those shifts are good. Sometimes they're good and necessary evolutionary shifts in how we understand Scripture and how we understand our culture. But sometimes the morality needle moves in our culture, and we take the Bible and we rush to squeeze it in and say, oh, this certainly is what God would encourage as well. This certainly is what God is teaching as well. We have to have misunderstood the scriptures in the past. They have to mean this now because this is what our culture thinks and dictates, and certainly that makes the most sense. And instead of taking the morality of our culture and viewing it through the lens of eternal and inerrant Scripture. We take Scripture and we view it through the lens of malleable, constantly changing, argumentative cultural morality, and we try to make God's eternal Word fit into that. And when we can't do it, we throw out the Bible and we say, I guess it can't be trusted because it didn't meet our expectation that God's morality would mirror the morality of our culture. Over and over again, you can probably think of more. We have these expectations of God that he never claimed, that he never gave us, that he never affirmed. And yet because God isn't meeting those expectations, we can't hear him. We have our AirPods in and we can't hear anything except for what we want to hear. And the whole time, God has been speaking to us. God has been calling out to us. God has been making himself evident to us. God has been offering us gentle, unobtrusive guidance through his scriptures and to the people in our life who love him and love us. But we have a hard time hearing him because our deafening expectations are drowning his voice out. And so it makes me want to leave you with this question to think about as you go throughout your week, hopefully to talk about in our small groups if we've developed enough trust to be this vulnerable with one another. Certainly you can see ways that your expectations have potentially damaged your ability to hear God. I know that I have mine. I would even venture to say what I've found in my own life is when God doesn't make sense or when I'm having a hard time with faith or when I don't feel like I'm in sync with him, normally it's a time when I need to sit down and say, God, what am I expecting you to do that isn't a fair expectation of you? And I'll realize it's my own bad thinking and poor beliefs about God that are keeping me from walking in faith with him. It's not his voice. It's not his teaching. It's not what he's doing. So as we wrap up, I would ask you to consider this. What expectations do we need to remove from our ears so that we can hear what God has been saying to us all along? What things have we been clinging to? What beliefs do we have that, like the religious community and the life of Christ, are playing in our ears so loudly that we can't see Jesus when he's standing right in front of us? What expectations do we need to remove so that we can finally hear the voice of God with crystal clarity? I hope you'll do that this week. I hope we'll walk with a more clear understanding of who God is and what he wants for us. Let me pray for us. Father, we love you. We know you are good. We know you love us. We know you are consistent and you are immutable and you are unchangeable and you are steadfast. We know that you are faithful when we are faithless. God, help us grope our way to faith. Help us see the things in our life, the expectations that we've placed on you that you didn't place on yourself. Help us to humbly admit those and remove them from the equation so that we might finally hear you with clarity. Help me hear you with clarity as you root out the expectations and the untrue beliefs that I have of you in my own life and in my own heart, Father. Be with us in our families and in our friends and in our peer groups even this week. Help us see with clarity who you are and what you never claim to be. And help us walk with a more crystal clear faith, Father. It's in your son's name we pray. Amen.

This morning, we are still in the middle of our series called Storyteller, where we are acknowledging that Jesus is the greatest storyteller to ever live. And he actually employed stories called parables in his teaching throughout his ministry. And we'll remember that a parable is a short fictional story used to make a moral point. And it's important this morning that we remember that these are fictional because this one that we're going to focus on this morning is maybe the most mysterious, most layered. It conjures up more questions probably than any other parable. In this parable is a reference to paradise and a reference to Hades and what life is going to look like in eternity. And a lot of people try to read into this parable what eternity must look like and what Jesus was saying about eternity. But what I would say to that before we even jump into the parable found in Luke chapter 16 is that that's not the point that Jesus is trying to make. Jesus isn't trying to paint a picture of eternity in this parable. He's trying to make a larger point that I want us to get to today. And I'm actually talking about this up front because Scripture does have a place where it talks about eternity, where it does fill in some of the blanks on what that's going to look like in heaven and in hell, being with God and being separated from God and what it's going to look like at the end of time. And we find that in the book of Revelation. I've been going back and forth in my own head and in my own heart about whether that was something I wanted to dive into as a church. So I want to invite you this week in your small groups, on your Zoom calls, in your check-ins, discuss this with your small group leader. And I'm going to be getting with the small group leaders and asking for feedback from them. And if Revelation is something that we want to go through as a church sometime in the not-too-distant future, then I would love to do that with you. But I just want to kind of gauge the interest level before we dive into that together because it's quite the undertaking. With that as an aside, we're going to set eternity and what this parable implicates about eternity aside today so that we can see the main focus of the parable. We can find it, like I said, in Luke chapter 16. If you have a Bible there at home, I hope that you'll open it up and go through the text with me. I'm going to read some verses, some of them, like always, I'll summarize. And I love it when you have your Bible open and you're making sure that I'm following along with the story correctly and you're not giving me the benefit of infallibility. I would also encourage, if you're watching this as a family, if you have kids with you, what a cool time to open up mom or dad's Bible and have them gather around and go through and consume and look at the text together. What a great time as a family to be able to gather around one Bible, God's Word, and consume that together. So grab a Bible if you have it and open up to Luke chapter 16. We're going to be in verses 19 through 31. It's in those verses that you'll find the parable of Abraham's bosom. And this is how was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man's table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. So that's how Jesus sets the stage. There's a rich man who had all he wanted every day. He feasted sumptuously, which sounds a little bit like me in quarantine, but this is what he did every day. That's how he lived. And at his gate, there was a poor man named Lazarus who begged, who ate the scraps off of his table. And the implication is that the rich man really didn't pay much attention to him. And Lazarus was so hard up that the dogs would come and lick his sores. I can't imagine the poverty or the sickness that would render you, that would put you in a place where you just said, you know what? Go to town, dogs. That's fine. It breaks my heart to think about someone living like that. And so these are the two characters. These are the two men, the rich man and then the poor man, Lazarus. And they both died at the same time. And in eternity, it says that Lazarus, the poor man, was in Abraham's bosom. Abraham was the forefather of the Hebrew people. That was being with him in eternity is acknowledged as being in paradise. And then there was a chasm, and on the other side of the chasm was Hades. And Hades is always associated with fire and separation from God and suffering. And the rich man was in Hades. And the rich man looks across the chasm and he sees Abraham and he cries out and he requests, Father Abraham, can Lazarus come across this chasm, across this divide, dip his finger in water and just give me a drop of water? I'm burning and I'm thirsty. And what's interesting there, if you look at the text, is Jesus chose very intentionally to have the rich man say, Father Abraham. What he's indicating there in that language is that the rich man was a Jew. The rich man looked to Abraham as his forefather. The Jewish culture at that time very much saw their eternity wrapped up in their lineage. He thought that because he was from the line of Abraham, because God made some promises to Abraham, that those promises applied to him, and simply by birthright, simply because of who he was and how he had lived his life, that he was going to spend eternity in paradise with Abraham and with God. And so what Jesus is saying there, it's one of the layers of this very layered parable, is that this man was a Jew and he thought that his lineage and his heritage was going to get him into heaven for eternity. And it didn't. And now he's having to face that reality. And it's a stark parallel because often to me in the New Testament, I find that there's a parallel between the expectant Jewish community and the expectant church community in the United States in the 21st century. We have plenty of people who are cultural Christians who grow up in church, who because their grandparents were believers, because their parents were believers, because they've always grown up in church, they just think they're automatically going to go to heaven. Even though maybe we've never articulated a faith, there's no evidence of the fruit of the Spirit in our life or that that faith and that love has taken hold of us. We haven't allowed God to come in and radically reprioritize our lives. Christianity remains just kind of a sliver of our life instead of our whole life. And it's entirely possible, we see in this parable, to go through our life expectant because of who we are and where we come from that one day we'll be in eternity because it just works out for us. And this rich man found out, no, that's not how it goes. And we would be wise to acknowledge that if we've been church people our whole life, that's not what gets us into heaven. That's not what allows us to spend eternity with God. What allows us to spend eternity with God is falling on our face and saying, I fall short and Jesus closes the gap and I need him more than anything else. He is the only way to the Father and so I need Jesus in my life and I submit to his lordship in my life. It's to acknowledge that we are sinners in need of a Savior. But the rich man cries out, Father Abraham, can Lazarus please just come across and give me a drop of water? And Abraham explains to the rich man, I'm sorry, man, that's not how this works. This chasm is too deep. It's too wide. It was intentionally placed here so that nobody could go from paradise to Hades and come back. And no one can come from Hades to paradise. It cannot be crossed, so Lazarus can't bring you any water. And the rich man, in response to this, asks what I believe is a heart-wrenching question. He says, okay, fine. Can Lazarus, can you send him back to my father's house? I have five brothers and they need to know about this. They need to know that this is true. They need to know that eternity is not some old wives' tale, that this is actually taking place. They need to know that there is suffering waiting on them, that they are on a path to where I am, and I don't want to be here. Can you please send Lazarus back so that my family doesn't have to suffer like I'm suffering? It's a heart-wrenching question. It's a very human request. It's this realization by the rich man, oh my goodness, all those teachings I heard over the course of my life, they're true. And my brothers are like me. They don't believe them either. Can we please send Lazarus back to prevent them from experiencing what I'm experiencing? I want to know that they're going to be in paradise. I don't want them to put up with this to endure this. But Abraham's response is tough. Look what another reason why I say it's a layered parable because the end of it, he says, if they didn't believe Moses and the prophets, they're not going to believe Lazarus. They're not even going to believe it if someone were to rise from the dead. Jesus is saying to this Jewish crowd that's listening to him, without them even realizing it, in a few weeks, I'm going to die and I'm going to conquer death and raise myself from the dead. And even then, some of you won't believe. He's foreshadowing his own death at the end of this parable. And Abraham's response is tough. The rich man says, please, can Lazarus go and share this message with my brothers to prevent them from coming here. And Abraham says, they have Moses and the prophets. They have what we understand to be the Old Testament. They have the scriptures. They have the Bible. God has spoken to them. And he says, no, no, no, just send Lazarus back. They'll listen to Lazarus. And Abraham says, even if someone is resurrected from the dead, they still will not. If they won't listen to Moses and the prophets, they won't listen to them. And it's this stark message. Your brothers are stubborn. Your other rich brothers are stubborn. They've been exposed to the message. God has been speaking to them. We've told you over and over and over again. Since you were a young boy, you all, your family, had the messages of Moses and of the prophets and of the Old Testament, and God's Word breathed into your life, and you have all chosen not to believe it and not to repent and not to submit to God and there's no other voices that are going to help. The message from this parable that we don't want to miss is that if we think God isn't speaking to us, we probably just aren't listening. If we think God's not speaking to us, if we're having a hard time hearing the voice of God and we're going, God, why don't you say something? Why don't you make your will more clear? Why don't you make yourself more clear? It's probably not that he's not speaking to us. It's far more likely that we're just not listening. It's not that the rich man and his brothers weren't getting spoken to by God. They had the Bible. They had Moses. They grew up in a culture that was designed fundamentally to point them to the Father. But they missed it. And they didn't miss it because God wasn't speaking to them. They missed it because they weren't listening. And haven't we seen this happen in our lives? Haven't we seen this happen in the lives of the people around us? I can't tell you how many conversations I've had over the years with people who are skeptical of the faith. And they'll say something like, you know, if God is real, why doesn't he just make himself more evident? Why does he make it so hard to find him? If God is real, why doesn't he just like show himself front and center? And listen, I don't want to demean or sweep away those questions because they come from a sincere place. They really do. And questions like that make sense to me. But whenever I hear a question like that, I'm just convinced that we're not listening. Because when someone says, if God's real, why doesn't he just come and put himself right in front of us? I think to myself, do you mean Jesus of Nazareth that lived for 33 years and then historically died and was resurrected? Do you mean like that? Or when somebody says, if God's real, why doesn't he make himself evident? I think, do you mean like in nature? Do you mean that God should make himself more evident in his creation? That that's the way that he's chosen to reveal himself to us? Romans 1 says that God has revealed himself to us in nature so that no man is without excuse. When people say, I wonder why God doesn't make himself more evident, I wonder to myself, have you ever looked at the grandeur of a mountain range? Have you ever sat on the peaceful beach and just behold the beauty of a sunset or a sunrise? Have you ever looked at a painting in the sky and not thought, man, God, you nailed that one? Have you ever not sat in the peace and the grandeur of the plains? Have you gone out west and looked at how big and open and wide everything is? Have you been to the Caribbean and seen how crystal blue the waters are? Have you been in the hills and the east coast of the United States and looked at the lush greenery? How do you look at those things and not think, wow, there must be an author to this? Scripture tells us that even if man refuses to praise God, that the rocks cry out, that the heavens declare the glory of God. How can we say that God doesn't make himself more evident when all we have to do is literally step outside and look at his evidence all around us? How can we say that God hasn't made himself evident when we've had the gift of holding a child that we created? One of the things that I marvel at when people say, why doesn't God make himself more evident? I think of this idea of just the size and the scope of the universe. Do you understand that we still haven't found the smallest thing? We still can't find the smallest thing that God created. Years ago, 100 years ago, we thought it was a cell. We thought that a single cell was probably the smallest possible building block of life. And then we developed microscopes and we did some research and we went, oh man, we were way off. There's things that are a lot smaller than this. And then we discovered the atom. We were like, okay, that's got to be the smallest thing. And then we went, oh, that's not the smallest thing. There's like electrons. Those are tiny. And then we went to electrons and we're like, oh my gosh, there's a whole universe of things inside electrons. And no matter how much research we do, we still can't find the smallest, most fundamental thing that all of nature is based on. The universe that God created is infinitesimally small, yet it's unfathomably large. If we zoom out from the smallest thing and look at the largest thing, we still can't comprehend the universe. We still don't understand how it all dances together and hangs there. Science still can't explain the origin of it. Even if we can trace it back through history, through all the different experiments and reading and research that we have, we still don't know how it came into creation besides a creator God. Even Einstein, as he searched for a theory of relativity to stitch together the universe and understand all the things at play here God exists. And we don't just do this with our belief in God, but sometimes we do it circumstantially. Sometimes we're in different circumstances and we'll think to ourselves, why won't God tell me what I should do here? Why can't I hear his voice? I think of an example from several years ago when I was at my previous church. There was a guy who was a good guy, great character, one of my small group leaders. I was a small group pastor, and he and I worked together a fair amount. He came to me and he said, hey, I feel like God has laid on my heart that I need to plant a church. What do you think I should do? And I had to tell him. I'm not one to pull many punches in situations like this. So I had to tell him, listen, man, I don't think you're ready. I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think your family's where it needs to be. I don't think where you need to be. I think you should, that's a good goal. But the timing's probably off. It's probably not the right time. And he said, okay, I hear you, but I think I'm gonna talk to the pastor about this. I said, all right. So he goes and he sits down with our lead pastor and he says, hey, I think the Lord wants me to plant a church. And our lead pastor said the same thing I did. Gosh, it's a good goal. It just doesn't feel like the right time. I really don't think I would support that. And the guy said, okay, I'm going to talk to the elders then. So he goes and he sits in front of the elders and he says, hey, I think God wants me to plant a church and I'd really love you guys to support this. And they unanimously and quickly said, we don't think that's a good idea. And after hearing all of that advice, he went home and he told his wife he was no longer going to plant a church and he was a faithful small group leader for years. No, that's never how that story goes. He went, okay, I hear you guys, but God's leading me in another way. And he went and he left us and he went and he planted a church. And sure enough, within a year and a half, two years, that church didn't exist and he had to figure out life again. And he may be tempted at the end of that road to say, God, where were you? Why weren't you speaking to me? And the truth of it was, God was speaking to him the whole time in a cacophony of voices that he invited into his life as spiritual authorities that he just refused to listen to. It wasn't that God wasn't speaking to him, it's that he wasn't listening. And I believe we all do this. I believe we all search for the voice of God. God, what would you have me do here? God, why don't you show up in this situation? God, why don't you make yourself more evident? When God the whole time has been speaking to us. When God the whole time has put voices in our life, has put his word in our life, has put a church in our life, has put family members in our life to guide us, to serve as his voices, and yet we say we can't hear him. So to me, that's the main point. That if we can't hear God, it's not because he's not speaking, it's because we're not listening. But the interesting question that comes out of that message is, what is it that's preventing us from hearing the voice of God? Why sometimes do we struggle so mightily to hear something that's being spoken so clearly? And I think to find the answer to this, we should examine the contemporaries of Jesus. I think if we look at the religious establishment, at the Pharisees and the religious leaders and the majority of the Jewish people at the time of the life of Christ, who did not believe that Jesus was who he said he was, who were not listening to the message of God. I think if we look to them and try to figure out why was it that they couldn't hear the voice of God, that we may be able to figure out why we can't hear the voice of God. And so as I thought about that question this week, why was it that the religious leaders at the time of Christ couldn't understand what he was saying? What was prohibiting them from hearing Jesus, from hearing the message of God? I came to the conclusion that they couldn't hear God because of their own deafening expectations. They had these expectations playing in their ears that were so deafening that they were drowning out the message that God was trying to communicate to them. I kind of think of it like this. For Christmas, I got maybe the greatest gift that's ever been given, AirPods, for Christmas this year. And AirPods have this great technology in them. It's noise canceling technology so that when you put them in your ears, they begin to actively work to cancel out all the noise in your area. So you can literally turn down the volume of an entire room simply by having these in your ears. It's magical. If you have a four-year-old or a Kyle, I highly recommend these. And then when you partner their noise canceling ability with a song that you may be choosing to play from your phone, you can't hear anything. It's magical. Jen, my wife, hates these things because when they're in, I can't hear anything going on around me. I'm in my own little universe. And the truth of it is that when these are in my ear, I can only hear what I want to hear. I can only hear things that are coming through my phone, things that I have intentionally chosen and told my phone, had these expectations playing in their ear that made them completely unable to hear anything else that God was trying to say to them. Those expectations were deafening. Their expectations of Jesus were that he came to be a physical king. They expected him to be a king, to literally come and sit on the throne of David in Jerusalem, to overthrow Herod, to overthrow Roman rule, to rise Israel to national prominence, to literally take over the whole world and sit in a righteous and glorious divine reign over the planet with the Messiah Jesus on the throne. They expected a physical kingdom. They expected that Jesus was going to come from Jerusalem, not Nazareth, not the country, not be a poor carpenter or probably a stonemason if you really get into the technicalities of the words. They didn't expect that Jesus would be a poor stonemason from Nazareth, from the north of the country. They expected that he would come from Jerusalem, that he would be a member of the religious elite, that he would come up through their institutions, through their religious structure and hierarchy. They envisioned that he would be the high priest, that he would cater to them. They did not think he would carouse with sinners. They did not think he would be friends with prostitutes. They did not think that he would associate himself with people who were not amongst the elite. And what they didn't realize is Jesus came to save sinners. He came to seek the lost. He came to interact with the broken. He came to build a church. He didn't come to establish a physical kingdom and sit on a physical throne. That is too small of a kingdom for our Messiah. He came to earth to establish an eternal spiritual kingdom whose throne is in heaven that he will sit next to his Father and reign on for all of eternity. And we as the church and everyone who becomes a believer is a part of the spiritual kingdom that Jesus came to establish. And all of the Old Testament points to that reality, but because they had their own deafening expectations in their ear, they couldn't hear that message from God, and so they rejected it. Their own deafening expectations caused them to reject the Messiah when he showed up in front of them because they could no longer hear his message. And if that's true of them, it makes me wonder about our expectations. I wonder what expectations we have that are prohibiting us from hearing the message of God. A very easy one is the message of prosperity. There are some men and women who are peddlers of the false gospel of prosperity who teach people that to be a believer means that you will be prosperous, that if you have enough faith, God will give you material blessing. There was actually a televangelist at the beginning of this COVID nonsense who told people in his TV audience that even if you lose your job, if you give your last paycheck to this ministry, God is gonna flourish you. The Bible's very clear that guy's gonna get his, just so we all know. But that's a false gospel. It builds an expectation that to become a believer means I will be prosperous. It means I'm gonna close close the business deal. It means I'm going to get the car. It means I'm going to have the wealth. And it's an incredibly damaging belief because people who are in poverty and subject to that kind of false optimism sign up for faith with the expectation that God is going to make them prosperous. And then when he doesn't, it leaves them shipwrecked on the side of the road with no faith and no hope in a God that they should have never believed in in the first place. It's a false gospel. And that expectation built up that because I'm a believer, God is going to prosper me is a false expectation, and when it doesn't come to fruition, it shipwrecks their faith. And I don't know where we're getting that in the Bible because Jesus himself was poor. He says, He said, He said, He didn't have a lot of extra money to throw together. A lot of times their meals came down to just the amount of bread that they had. Nowhere in the Bible does it state that if we are believers that we will be prosperous, yet that expectation exists and persists and wrecks people's faith along the way. One that we are probably more susceptible to in our crowd and in our culture, and I've seen this over and over again in the lives of people, is the expectation that to be a believer means that God is going to prevent pain. That if I'm a believer, if I'm walking with God, if I'm walking faithfully, if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, then he is going to allow me to dodge the raindrops of tragedy in my life. That if we'll just dot our I's and cross our T's and mind our business and do what God asks us to do, then we're not going to get the tough diagnosis and neither is anyone that we love. We're not going to experience that loss and neither will anyone in our immediate circle. That to be a believer is an insurance policy that God is going to protect me against pain. A lot of us have that expectation. We might not say it that way, but it exists. And we know it exists because I've seen so many people who have a solid faith who experience loss or tragedy for the first time, and that faith is shaken to its core. Do you know why it's shaken to its core? Because part of the foundation of that faith was an expectation that my God will prevent me from pain and tragedy when God does not claim that in Scripture anywhere. Sometimes it's built on poor teaching on verses like Romans 8.28 that teach, for we know that for those who love him, that all things work together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose. And some people want to apply that to this life right now, saying that no matter what happens, it's going to work out for our good. When really what that verse means is God is orchestrating everything to bring us nearer to him in eternity, that everything will work out for those who love him, for their ultimate good, for eternity in paradise. It might not work out in this life, but it will always work out in the next life. But when we have this expectation that to be a believer is to prevent us from pain, we will inevitably experience pain that runs contrary to that expectation. And I don't know how we got this idea because all through the Bible are people who suffer for God. When God speaks to a prophet named Ananias, he tells him that Saul is his chosen instrument to reach the Gentiles. And get this, he will show him how much he must suffer for his name. That same Saul becomes Paul and details at the end of his life, all the ways he suffered for God through the years. Even Jesus himself, we don't talk about this a lot, but by the end of Jesus' life, Joseph, his earthly father, is not on the scene anymore. So it's entirely possible that somewhere in Jesus' adolescence, his mother became a single mom. It's entirely possible that Jesus experienced part of adolescence. The Son of God experienced life, potentially, as someone who lost his earthly father in a single-parent home. Does that sound like God protects people from suffering all the time? James tells us whenever we endure trials to consider it pure joy. Not if we endure them, but when we do. If we want to have a healthy, accurate, vibrant understanding of God, we have to move away from the expectation that to be walking with him means that we get to dodge the raindrops of pain. That's not a scriptural teaching. And that expectation leaves our faith shipwrecked. Another one, another expectation that I see is the expectation that God's going to make sense. The expectation that we'll be able to understand the almighty, infinite creator God. That if I just read enough books, if I can just systematize it enough, if I can just ask the right questions, if I can just seek out the right answers, then one day everything will tie up in this nice, neat little bow when theologically and experientially and philosophically I'll be able to understand God in a way that is satisfactory to me. When Romans 11 says His ways are higher than our ways. When Psalms says that His ways are unsearchable and unknowable and inscrutable. How can we expect to know an infinite creator God who knows good and well what the smallest thing is because He created it and He knows how big the universe is and how it hangs in place because he created it. How can we think that that massive God can be tucked into a little, tight, neat box so that my human understanding can grasp it and explain it to others all the time? It's unreasonable. And then sometimes when we can't make sense of some of the things that God says or does because we can't fit it into our human box of understanding, we walk away from him because of this false expectation that we should be able to understand him all the time. When the Bible doesn't advocate that, it doesn't tell us that we can. We can understand bits and pieces. We can know him, but we won't fully know him until we are in eternity. The last expectation that I would point out to you this morning is the false expectation that the morality of God would mirror the morality of our culture. I've been alive for 39 years. And in those 39 years, I've watched the needle on certain topics move. I've watched our culture say that in one decade, this behavior is unacceptable. And in another decade, say no longer is it not unacceptable, but it is embraceable. And if you don't, then you're wrong. I've watched that needle move where this behavior was wrong and now it is right, where this was something that we don't even really speak about because it's uncouth and now we embrace it and we support it. And sometimes those shifts are good. Sometimes they're good and necessary evolutionary shifts in how we understand Scripture and how we understand our culture. But sometimes the morality needle moves in our culture, and we take the Bible and we rush to squeeze it in and say, oh, this certainly is what God would encourage as well. This certainly is what God is teaching as well. We have to have misunderstood the scriptures in the past. They have to mean this now because this is what our culture thinks and dictates, and certainly that makes the most sense. And instead of taking the morality of our culture and viewing it through the lens of eternal and inerrant Scripture. We take Scripture and we view it through the lens of malleable, constantly changing, argumentative cultural morality, and we try to make God's eternal Word fit into that. And when we can't do it, we throw out the Bible and we say, I guess it can't be trusted because it didn't meet our expectation that God's morality would mirror the morality of our culture. Over and over again, you can probably think of more. We have these expectations of God that he never claimed, that he never gave us, that he never affirmed. And yet because God isn't meeting those expectations, we can't hear him. We have our AirPods in and we can't hear anything except for what we want to hear. And the whole time, God has been speaking to us. God has been calling out to us. God has been making himself evident to us. God has been offering us gentle, unobtrusive guidance through his scriptures and to the people in our life who love him and love us. But we have a hard time hearing him because our deafening expectations are drowning his voice out. And so it makes me want to leave you with this question to think about as you go throughout your week, hopefully to talk about in our small groups if we've developed enough trust to be this vulnerable with one another. Certainly you can see ways that your expectations have potentially damaged your ability to hear God. I know that I have mine. I would even venture to say what I've found in my own life is when God doesn't make sense or when I'm having a hard time with faith or when I don't feel like I'm in sync with him, normally it's a time when I need to sit down and say, God, what am I expecting you to do that isn't a fair expectation of you? And I'll realize it's my own bad thinking and poor beliefs about God that are keeping me from walking in faith with him. It's not his voice. It's not his teaching. It's not what he's doing. So as we wrap up, I would ask you to consider this. What expectations do we need to remove from our ears so that we can hear what God has been saying to us all along? What things have we been clinging to? What beliefs do we have that, like the religious community and the life of Christ, are playing in our ears so loudly that we can't see Jesus when he's standing right in front of us? What expectations do we need to remove so that we can finally hear the voice of God with crystal clarity? I hope you'll do that this week. I hope we'll walk with a more clear understanding of who God is and what he wants for us. Let me pray for us. Father, we love you. We know you are good. We know you love us. We know you are consistent and you are immutable and you are unchangeable and you are steadfast. We know that you are faithful when we are faithless. God, help us grope our way to faith. Help us see the things in our life, the expectations that we've placed on you that you didn't place on yourself. Help us to humbly admit those and remove them from the equation so that we might finally hear you with clarity. Help me hear you with clarity as you root out the expectations and the untrue beliefs that I have of you in my own life and in my own heart, Father. Be with us in our families and in our friends and in our peer groups even this week. Help us see with clarity who you are and what you never claim to be. And help us walk with a more crystal clear faith, Father. It's in your son's name we pray. Amen.

This morning, we are still in the middle of our series called Storyteller, where we are acknowledging that Jesus is the greatest storyteller to ever live. And he actually employed stories called parables in his teaching throughout his ministry. And we'll remember that a parable is a short fictional story used to make a moral point. And it's important this morning that we remember that these are fictional because this one that we're going to focus on this morning is maybe the most mysterious, most layered. It conjures up more questions probably than any other parable. In this parable is a reference to paradise and a reference to Hades and what life is going to look like in eternity. And a lot of people try to read into this parable what eternity must look like and what Jesus was saying about eternity. But what I would say to that before we even jump into the parable found in Luke chapter 16 is that that's not the point that Jesus is trying to make. Jesus isn't trying to paint a picture of eternity in this parable. He's trying to make a larger point that I want us to get to today. And I'm actually talking about this up front because Scripture does have a place where it talks about eternity, where it does fill in some of the blanks on what that's going to look like in heaven and in hell, being with God and being separated from God and what it's going to look like at the end of time. And we find that in the book of Revelation. I've been going back and forth in my own head and in my own heart about whether that was something I wanted to dive into as a church. So I want to invite you this week in your small groups, on your Zoom calls, in your check-ins, discuss this with your small group leader. And I'm going to be getting with the small group leaders and asking for feedback from them. And if Revelation is something that we want to go through as a church sometime in the not-too-distant future, then I would love to do that with you. But I just want to kind of gauge the interest level before we dive into that together because it's quite the undertaking. With that as an aside, we're going to set eternity and what this parable implicates about eternity aside today so that we can see the main focus of the parable. We can find it, like I said, in Luke chapter 16. If you have a Bible there at home, I hope that you'll open it up and go through the text with me. I'm going to read some verses, some of them, like always, I'll summarize. And I love it when you have your Bible open and you're making sure that I'm following along with the story correctly and you're not giving me the benefit of infallibility. I would also encourage, if you're watching this as a family, if you have kids with you, what a cool time to open up mom or dad's Bible and have them gather around and go through and consume and look at the text together. What a great time as a family to be able to gather around one Bible, God's Word, and consume that together. So grab a Bible if you have it and open up to Luke chapter 16. We're going to be in verses 19 through 31. It's in those verses that you'll find the parable of Abraham's bosom. And this is how was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man's table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. So that's how Jesus sets the stage. There's a rich man who had all he wanted every day. He feasted sumptuously, which sounds a little bit like me in quarantine, but this is what he did every day. That's how he lived. And at his gate, there was a poor man named Lazarus who begged, who ate the scraps off of his table. And the implication is that the rich man really didn't pay much attention to him. And Lazarus was so hard up that the dogs would come and lick his sores. I can't imagine the poverty or the sickness that would render you, that would put you in a place where you just said, you know what? Go to town, dogs. That's fine. It breaks my heart to think about someone living like that. And so these are the two characters. These are the two men, the rich man and then the poor man, Lazarus. And they both died at the same time. And in eternity, it says that Lazarus, the poor man, was in Abraham's bosom. Abraham was the forefather of the Hebrew people. That was being with him in eternity is acknowledged as being in paradise. And then there was a chasm, and on the other side of the chasm was Hades. And Hades is always associated with fire and separation from God and suffering. And the rich man was in Hades. And the rich man looks across the chasm and he sees Abraham and he cries out and he requests, Father Abraham, can Lazarus come across this chasm, across this divide, dip his finger in water and just give me a drop of water? I'm burning and I'm thirsty. And what's interesting there, if you look at the text, is Jesus chose very intentionally to have the rich man say, Father Abraham. What he's indicating there in that language is that the rich man was a Jew. The rich man looked to Abraham as his forefather. The Jewish culture at that time very much saw their eternity wrapped up in their lineage. He thought that because he was from the line of Abraham, because God made some promises to Abraham, that those promises applied to him, and simply by birthright, simply because of who he was and how he had lived his life, that he was going to spend eternity in paradise with Abraham and with God. And so what Jesus is saying there, it's one of the layers of this very layered parable, is that this man was a Jew and he thought that his lineage and his heritage was going to get him into heaven for eternity. And it didn't. And now he's having to face that reality. And it's a stark parallel because often to me in the New Testament, I find that there's a parallel between the expectant Jewish community and the expectant church community in the United States in the 21st century. We have plenty of people who are cultural Christians who grow up in church, who because their grandparents were believers, because their parents were believers, because they've always grown up in church, they just think they're automatically going to go to heaven. Even though maybe we've never articulated a faith, there's no evidence of the fruit of the Spirit in our life or that that faith and that love has taken hold of us. We haven't allowed God to come in and radically reprioritize our lives. Christianity remains just kind of a sliver of our life instead of our whole life. And it's entirely possible, we see in this parable, to go through our life expectant because of who we are and where we come from that one day we'll be in eternity because it just works out for us. And this rich man found out, no, that's not how it goes. And we would be wise to acknowledge that if we've been church people our whole life, that's not what gets us into heaven. That's not what allows us to spend eternity with God. What allows us to spend eternity with God is falling on our face and saying, I fall short and Jesus closes the gap and I need him more than anything else. He is the only way to the Father and so I need Jesus in my life and I submit to his lordship in my life. It's to acknowledge that we are sinners in need of a Savior. But the rich man cries out, Father Abraham, can Lazarus please just come across and give me a drop of water? And Abraham explains to the rich man, I'm sorry, man, that's not how this works. This chasm is too deep. It's too wide. It was intentionally placed here so that nobody could go from paradise to Hades and come back. And no one can come from Hades to paradise. It cannot be crossed, so Lazarus can't bring you any water. And the rich man, in response to this, asks what I believe is a heart-wrenching question. He says, okay, fine. Can Lazarus, can you send him back to my father's house? I have five brothers and they need to know about this. They need to know that this is true. They need to know that eternity is not some old wives' tale, that this is actually taking place. They need to know that there is suffering waiting on them, that they are on a path to where I am, and I don't want to be here. Can you please send Lazarus back so that my family doesn't have to suffer like I'm suffering? It's a heart-wrenching question. It's a very human request. It's this realization by the rich man, oh my goodness, all those teachings I heard over the course of my life, they're true. And my brothers are like me. They don't believe them either. Can we please send Lazarus back to prevent them from experiencing what I'm experiencing? I want to know that they're going to be in paradise. I don't want them to put up with this to endure this. But Abraham's response is tough. Look what another reason why I say it's a layered parable because the end of it, he says, if they didn't believe Moses and the prophets, they're not going to believe Lazarus. They're not even going to believe it if someone were to rise from the dead. Jesus is saying to this Jewish crowd that's listening to him, without them even realizing it, in a few weeks, I'm going to die and I'm going to conquer death and raise myself from the dead. And even then, some of you won't believe. He's foreshadowing his own death at the end of this parable. And Abraham's response is tough. The rich man says, please, can Lazarus go and share this message with my brothers to prevent them from coming here. And Abraham says, they have Moses and the prophets. They have what we understand to be the Old Testament. They have the scriptures. They have the Bible. God has spoken to them. And he says, no, no, no, just send Lazarus back. They'll listen to Lazarus. And Abraham says, even if someone is resurrected from the dead, they still will not. If they won't listen to Moses and the prophets, they won't listen to them. And it's this stark message. Your brothers are stubborn. Your other rich brothers are stubborn. They've been exposed to the message. God has been speaking to them. We've told you over and over and over again. Since you were a young boy, you all, your family, had the messages of Moses and of the prophets and of the Old Testament, and God's Word breathed into your life, and you have all chosen not to believe it and not to repent and not to submit to God and there's no other voices that are going to help. The message from this parable that we don't want to miss is that if we think God isn't speaking to us, we probably just aren't listening. If we think God's not speaking to us, if we're having a hard time hearing the voice of God and we're going, God, why don't you say something? Why don't you make your will more clear? Why don't you make yourself more clear? It's probably not that he's not speaking to us. It's far more likely that we're just not listening. It's not that the rich man and his brothers weren't getting spoken to by God. They had the Bible. They had Moses. They grew up in a culture that was designed fundamentally to point them to the Father. But they missed it. And they didn't miss it because God wasn't speaking to them. They missed it because they weren't listening. And haven't we seen this happen in our lives? Haven't we seen this happen in the lives of the people around us? I can't tell you how many conversations I've had over the years with people who are skeptical of the faith. And they'll say something like, you know, if God is real, why doesn't he just make himself more evident? Why does he make it so hard to find him? If God is real, why doesn't he just like show himself front and center? And listen, I don't want to demean or sweep away those questions because they come from a sincere place. They really do. And questions like that make sense to me. But whenever I hear a question like that, I'm just convinced that we're not listening. Because when someone says, if God's real, why doesn't he just come and put himself right in front of us? I think to myself, do you mean Jesus of Nazareth that lived for 33 years and then historically died and was resurrected? Do you mean like that? Or when somebody says, if God's real, why doesn't he make himself evident? I think, do you mean like in nature? Do you mean that God should make himself more evident in his creation? That that's the way that he's chosen to reveal himself to us? Romans 1 says that God has revealed himself to us in nature so that no man is without excuse. When people say, I wonder why God doesn't make himself more evident, I wonder to myself, have you ever looked at the grandeur of a mountain range? Have you ever sat on the peaceful beach and just behold the beauty of a sunset or a sunrise? Have you ever looked at a painting in the sky and not thought, man, God, you nailed that one? Have you ever not sat in the peace and the grandeur of the plains? Have you gone out west and looked at how big and open and wide everything is? Have you been to the Caribbean and seen how crystal blue the waters are? Have you been in the hills and the east coast of the United States and looked at the lush greenery? How do you look at those things and not think, wow, there must be an author to this? Scripture tells us that even if man refuses to praise God, that the rocks cry out, that the heavens declare the glory of God. How can we say that God doesn't make himself more evident when all we have to do is literally step outside and look at his evidence all around us? How can we say that God hasn't made himself evident when we've had the gift of holding a child that we created? One of the things that I marvel at when people say, why doesn't God make himself more evident? I think of this idea of just the size and the scope of the universe. Do you understand that we still haven't found the smallest thing? We still can't find the smallest thing that God created. Years ago, 100 years ago, we thought it was a cell. We thought that a single cell was probably the smallest possible building block of life. And then we developed microscopes and we did some research and we went, oh man, we were way off. There's things that are a lot smaller than this. And then we discovered the atom. We were like, okay, that's got to be the smallest thing. And then we went, oh, that's not the smallest thing. There's like electrons. Those are tiny. And then we went to electrons and we're like, oh my gosh, there's a whole universe of things inside electrons. And no matter how much research we do, we still can't find the smallest, most fundamental thing that all of nature is based on. The universe that God created is infinitesimally small, yet it's unfathomably large. If we zoom out from the smallest thing and look at the largest thing, we still can't comprehend the universe. We still don't understand how it all dances together and hangs there. Science still can't explain the origin of it. Even if we can trace it back through history, through all the different experiments and reading and research that we have, we still don't know how it came into creation besides a creator God. Even Einstein, as he searched for a theory of relativity to stitch together the universe and understand all the things at play here God exists. And we don't just do this with our belief in God, but sometimes we do it circumstantially. Sometimes we're in different circumstances and we'll think to ourselves, why won't God tell me what I should do here? Why can't I hear his voice? I think of an example from several years ago when I was at my previous church. There was a guy who was a good guy, great character, one of my small group leaders. I was a small group pastor, and he and I worked together a fair amount. He came to me and he said, hey, I feel like God has laid on my heart that I need to plant a church. What do you think I should do? And I had to tell him. I'm not one to pull many punches in situations like this. So I had to tell him, listen, man, I don't think you're ready. I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think your family's where it needs to be. I don't think where you need to be. I think you should, that's a good goal. But the timing's probably off. It's probably not the right time. And he said, okay, I hear you, but I think I'm gonna talk to the pastor about this. I said, all right. So he goes and he sits down with our lead pastor and he says, hey, I think the Lord wants me to plant a church. And our lead pastor said the same thing I did. Gosh, it's a good goal. It just doesn't feel like the right time. I really don't think I would support that. And the guy said, okay, I'm going to talk to the elders then. So he goes and he sits in front of the elders and he says, hey, I think God wants me to plant a church and I'd really love you guys to support this. And they unanimously and quickly said, we don't think that's a good idea. And after hearing all of that advice, he went home and he told his wife he was no longer going to plant a church and he was a faithful small group leader for years. No, that's never how that story goes. He went, okay, I hear you guys, but God's leading me in another way. And he went and he left us and he went and he planted a church. And sure enough, within a year and a half, two years, that church didn't exist and he had to figure out life again. And he may be tempted at the end of that road to say, God, where were you? Why weren't you speaking to me? And the truth of it was, God was speaking to him the whole time in a cacophony of voices that he invited into his life as spiritual authorities that he just refused to listen to. It wasn't that God wasn't speaking to him, it's that he wasn't listening. And I believe we all do this. I believe we all search for the voice of God. God, what would you have me do here? God, why don't you show up in this situation? God, why don't you make yourself more evident? When God the whole time has been speaking to us. When God the whole time has put voices in our life, has put his word in our life, has put a church in our life, has put family members in our life to guide us, to serve as his voices, and yet we say we can't hear him. So to me, that's the main point. That if we can't hear God, it's not because he's not speaking, it's because we're not listening. But the interesting question that comes out of that message is, what is it that's preventing us from hearing the voice of God? Why sometimes do we struggle so mightily to hear something that's being spoken so clearly? And I think to find the answer to this, we should examine the contemporaries of Jesus. I think if we look at the religious establishment, at the Pharisees and the religious leaders and the majority of the Jewish people at the time of the life of Christ, who did not believe that Jesus was who he said he was, who were not listening to the message of God. I think if we look to them and try to figure out why was it that they couldn't hear the voice of God, that we may be able to figure out why we can't hear the voice of God. And so as I thought about that question this week, why was it that the religious leaders at the time of Christ couldn't understand what he was saying? What was prohibiting them from hearing Jesus, from hearing the message of God? I came to the conclusion that they couldn't hear God because of their own deafening expectations. They had these expectations playing in their ears that were so deafening that they were drowning out the message that God was trying to communicate to them. I kind of think of it like this. For Christmas, I got maybe the greatest gift that's ever been given, AirPods, for Christmas this year. And AirPods have this great technology in them. It's noise canceling technology so that when you put them in your ears, they begin to actively work to cancel out all the noise in your area. So you can literally turn down the volume of an entire room simply by having these in your ears. It's magical. If you have a four-year-old or a Kyle, I highly recommend these. And then when you partner their noise canceling ability with a song that you may be choosing to play from your phone, you can't hear anything. It's magical. Jen, my wife, hates these things because when they're in, I can't hear anything going on around me. I'm in my own little universe. And the truth of it is that when these are in my ear, I can only hear what I want to hear. I can only hear things that are coming through my phone, things that I have intentionally chosen and told my phone, had these expectations playing in their ear that made them completely unable to hear anything else that God was trying to say to them. Those expectations were deafening. Their expectations of Jesus were that he came to be a physical king. They expected him to be a king, to literally come and sit on the throne of David in Jerusalem, to overthrow Herod, to overthrow Roman rule, to rise Israel to national prominence, to literally take over the whole world and sit in a righteous and glorious divine reign over the planet with the Messiah Jesus on the throne. They expected a physical kingdom. They expected that Jesus was going to come from Jerusalem, not Nazareth, not the country, not be a poor carpenter or probably a stonemason if you really get into the technicalities of the words. They didn't expect that Jesus would be a poor stonemason from Nazareth, from the north of the country. They expected that he would come from Jerusalem, that he would be a member of the religious elite, that he would come up through their institutions, through their religious structure and hierarchy. They envisioned that he would be the high priest, that he would cater to them. They did not think he would carouse with sinners. They did not think he would be friends with prostitutes. They did not think that he would associate himself with people who were not amongst the elite. And what they didn't realize is Jesus came to save sinners. He came to seek the lost. He came to interact with the broken. He came to build a church. He didn't come to establish a physical kingdom and sit on a physical throne. That is too small of a kingdom for our Messiah. He came to earth to establish an eternal spiritual kingdom whose throne is in heaven that he will sit next to his Father and reign on for all of eternity. And we as the church and everyone who becomes a believer is a part of the spiritual kingdom that Jesus came to establish. And all of the Old Testament points to that reality, but because they had their own deafening expectations in their ear, they couldn't hear that message from God, and so they rejected it. Their own deafening expectations caused them to reject the Messiah when he showed up in front of them because they could no longer hear his message. And if that's true of them, it makes me wonder about our expectations. I wonder what expectations we have that are prohibiting us from hearing the message of God. A very easy one is the message of prosperity. There are some men and women who are peddlers of the false gospel of prosperity who teach people that to be a believer means that you will be prosperous, that if you have enough faith, God will give you material blessing. There was actually a televangelist at the beginning of this COVID nonsense who told people in his TV audience that even if you lose your job, if you give your last paycheck to this ministry, God is gonna flourish you. The Bible's very clear that guy's gonna get his, just so we all know. But that's a false gospel. It builds an expectation that to become a believer means I will be prosperous. It means I'm gonna close close the business deal. It means I'm going to get the car. It means I'm going to have the wealth. And it's an incredibly damaging belief because people who are in poverty and subject to that kind of false optimism sign up for faith with the expectation that God is going to make them prosperous. And then when he doesn't, it leaves them shipwrecked on the side of the road with no faith and no hope in a God that they should have never believed in in the first place. It's a false gospel. And that expectation built up that because I'm a believer, God is going to prosper me is a false expectation, and when it doesn't come to fruition, it shipwrecks their faith. And I don't know where we're getting that in the Bible because Jesus himself was poor. He says, He said, He said, He didn't have a lot of extra money to throw together. A lot of times their meals came down to just the amount of bread that they had. Nowhere in the Bible does it state that if we are believers that we will be prosperous, yet that expectation exists and persists and wrecks people's faith along the way. One that we are probably more susceptible to in our crowd and in our culture, and I've seen this over and over again in the lives of people, is the expectation that to be a believer means that God is going to prevent pain. That if I'm a believer, if I'm walking with God, if I'm walking faithfully, if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, then he is going to allow me to dodge the raindrops of tragedy in my life. That if we'll just dot our I's and cross our T's and mind our business and do what God asks us to do, then we're not going to get the tough diagnosis and neither is anyone that we love. We're not going to experience that loss and neither will anyone in our immediate circle. That to be a believer is an insurance policy that God is going to protect me against pain. A lot of us have that expectation. We might not say it that way, but it exists. And we know it exists because I've seen so many people who have a solid faith who experience loss or tragedy for the first time, and that faith is shaken to its core. Do you know why it's shaken to its core? Because part of the foundation of that faith was an expectation that my God will prevent me from pain and tragedy when God does not claim that in Scripture anywhere. Sometimes it's built on poor teaching on verses like Romans 8.28 that teach, for we know that for those who love him, that all things work together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose. And some people want to apply that to this life right now, saying that no matter what happens, it's going to work out for our good. When really what that verse means is God is orchestrating everything to bring us nearer to him in eternity, that everything will work out for those who love him, for their ultimate good, for eternity in paradise. It might not work out in this life, but it will always work out in the next life. But when we have this expectation that to be a believer is to prevent us from pain, we will inevitably experience pain that runs contrary to that expectation. And I don't know how we got this idea because all through the Bible are people who suffer for God. When God speaks to a prophet named Ananias, he tells him that Saul is his chosen instrument to reach the Gentiles. And get this, he will show him how much he must suffer for his name. That same Saul becomes Paul and details at the end of his life, all the ways he suffered for God through the years. Even Jesus himself, we don't talk about this a lot, but by the end of Jesus' life, Joseph, his earthly father, is not on the scene anymore. So it's entirely possible that somewhere in Jesus' adolescence, his mother became a single mom. It's entirely possible that Jesus experienced part of adolescence. The Son of God experienced life, potentially, as someone who lost his earthly father in a single-parent home. Does that sound like God protects people from suffering all the time? James tells us whenever we endure trials to consider it pure joy. Not if we endure them, but when we do. If we want to have a healthy, accurate, vibrant understanding of God, we have to move away from the expectation that to be walking with him means that we get to dodge the raindrops of pain. That's not a scriptural teaching. And that expectation leaves our faith shipwrecked. Another one, another expectation that I see is the expectation that God's going to make sense. The expectation that we'll be able to understand the almighty, infinite creator God. That if I just read enough books, if I can just systematize it enough, if I can just ask the right questions, if I can just seek out the right answers, then one day everything will tie up in this nice, neat little bow when theologically and experientially and philosophically I'll be able to understand God in a way that is satisfactory to me. When Romans 11 says His ways are higher than our ways. When Psalms says that His ways are unsearchable and unknowable and inscrutable. How can we expect to know an infinite creator God who knows good and well what the smallest thing is because He created it and He knows how big the universe is and how it hangs in place because he created it. How can we think that that massive God can be tucked into a little, tight, neat box so that my human understanding can grasp it and explain it to others all the time? It's unreasonable. And then sometimes when we can't make sense of some of the things that God says or does because we can't fit it into our human box of understanding, we walk away from him because of this false expectation that we should be able to understand him all the time. When the Bible doesn't advocate that, it doesn't tell us that we can. We can understand bits and pieces. We can know him, but we won't fully know him until we are in eternity. The last expectation that I would point out to you this morning is the false expectation that the morality of God would mirror the morality of our culture. I've been alive for 39 years. And in those 39 years, I've watched the needle on certain topics move. I've watched our culture say that in one decade, this behavior is unacceptable. And in another decade, say no longer is it not unacceptable, but it is embraceable. And if you don't, then you're wrong. I've watched that needle move where this behavior was wrong and now it is right, where this was something that we don't even really speak about because it's uncouth and now we embrace it and we support it. And sometimes those shifts are good. Sometimes they're good and necessary evolutionary shifts in how we understand Scripture and how we understand our culture. But sometimes the morality needle moves in our culture, and we take the Bible and we rush to squeeze it in and say, oh, this certainly is what God would encourage as well. This certainly is what God is teaching as well. We have to have misunderstood the scriptures in the past. They have to mean this now because this is what our culture thinks and dictates, and certainly that makes the most sense. And instead of taking the morality of our culture and viewing it through the lens of eternal and inerrant Scripture. We take Scripture and we view it through the lens of malleable, constantly changing, argumentative cultural morality, and we try to make God's eternal Word fit into that. And when we can't do it, we throw out the Bible and we say, I guess it can't be trusted because it didn't meet our expectation that God's morality would mirror the morality of our culture. Over and over again, you can probably think of more. We have these expectations of God that he never claimed, that he never gave us, that he never affirmed. And yet because God isn't meeting those expectations, we can't hear him. We have our AirPods in and we can't hear anything except for what we want to hear. And the whole time, God has been speaking to us. God has been calling out to us. God has been making himself evident to us. God has been offering us gentle, unobtrusive guidance through his scriptures and to the people in our life who love him and love us. But we have a hard time hearing him because our deafening expectations are drowning his voice out. And so it makes me want to leave you with this question to think about as you go throughout your week, hopefully to talk about in our small groups if we've developed enough trust to be this vulnerable with one another. Certainly you can see ways that your expectations have potentially damaged your ability to hear God. I know that I have mine. I would even venture to say what I've found in my own life is when God doesn't make sense or when I'm having a hard time with faith or when I don't feel like I'm in sync with him, normally it's a time when I need to sit down and say, God, what am I expecting you to do that isn't a fair expectation of you? And I'll realize it's my own bad thinking and poor beliefs about God that are keeping me from walking in faith with him. It's not his voice. It's not his teaching. It's not what he's doing. So as we wrap up, I would ask you to consider this. What expectations do we need to remove from our ears so that we can hear what God has been saying to us all along? What things have we been clinging to? What beliefs do we have that, like the religious community and the life of Christ, are playing in our ears so loudly that we can't see Jesus when he's standing right in front of us? What expectations do we need to remove so that we can finally hear the voice of God with crystal clarity? I hope you'll do that this week. I hope we'll walk with a more clear understanding of who God is and what he wants for us. Let me pray for us. Father, we love you. We know you are good. We know you love us. We know you are consistent and you are immutable and you are unchangeable and you are steadfast. We know that you are faithful when we are faithless. God, help us grope our way to faith. Help us see the things in our life, the expectations that we've placed on you that you didn't place on yourself. Help us to humbly admit those and remove them from the equation so that we might finally hear you with clarity. Help me hear you with clarity as you root out the expectations and the untrue beliefs that I have of you in my own life and in my own heart, Father. Be with us in our families and in our friends and in our peer groups even this week. Help us see with clarity who you are and what you never claim to be. And help us walk with a more crystal clear faith, Father. It's in your son's name we pray. Amen.

Thank you. Good morning. I'm DJ Hill. I'm a partner here at Grace along with Laura, my wife, and three daughters. Today's reading is from Ecclesiastes, chapter 4, verses 9 through 12. Two are better than one, because they have good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, they keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two can withstand him. A threefold cord is not quickly broken. Thank you. Thank you, DJ. I was pleased to discover that you're literate. Well, good morning. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. This is the fourth part in our series called The Traits of Grace, where we're going through and we're just talking about the things and the aspects that make grace, grace, that make us who we are. Part of it is getting to pick on each other a little bit. And so this week is one that is, this is near and dear to all of our hearts. If this is, If you have been at Grace for any amount of time, then this is something that resonates deeply with you. It's something that characterizes us and who we are, and it's something that we choose over and over again in the way that we structure ourselves, in the way that we do things, and in the kind of church that we want to be. And so this morning, we get to talk about the fourth trait, which is that we are partners at Grace. We are partners. And we say that we don't have members at Grace, that we have partners instead, which is actually kind of funny to me that I'm such a stickler about having partners instead of members, because I've been doing vocational ministry 20 years. And one of the things I've always thought is kind of funny about the church is the way that we like to name stuff. Like we're super cool and we're coming up with new things. I was the small groups pastor at my previous church and I watched those things. First, when I was growing up, it was called Sunday school, right? And then in the 90s, we changed it to small groups. Now we're fancy. And then small groups weren't fancy enough, so we started calling them community groups or life groups or discipleship groups. And then there was this whole movement in the last couple of years to start house churches. And you're like, well, what's a house church? Like, well, you gather together and you kind of pray for each other and you talk about things you worship. I says, oh, it's like a small group. Like, no, no, no, house church. Well, what do you do on Sunday? Well, we go to big church together. Oh, so it's a small group. Like that's what we do. We like to rename things so that outsiders can't figure out what's going on in here. And it's really, it's just stupid. And I did it too. I was talking about this with my wife, Jen. And I was like, what are some other dumb church names that we've come up with over the years? Like on Sunday mornings, instead of calling it the service, we call it the gathering. And instead of calling it a sermon, we call it the talk, right? Because we're just trying to be cooler and more relevant in what we do. And she got on to me. She was like, you were guilty of this. She said, what was your ministry called in your first church? The first church I worked at was in Franklin County, Virginia, Rocky Mount, close to Smith Mountain Lake. And I had a buddy that started a church called Covenant Community Church. I believe it's still going. And we met in this old colonial home out in the middle of nowhere in the farmland of Franklin County, Virginia. We had about 30 people who came every week, which, by the way, we're about the same size as Grace is now based on the amount of families that stood up. We don't have space but for 30 people a week if you guys, if you families come every week. But I led a ministry. It was the student ministry, and I called it One because it was based on, I believe, Luke 15 where Jesus is talking to Mary and Martha, and he tells Mary, you need to worry about but one thing, and it's loving me. And so I called it One, which was aptly named because that's about how many kids I had per week on the Wednesday, right? And then I get to the big church with 200 kids in the middle school, and that was my ministry, and I called that Up and Out, right? Well, what's Up and Out? Well, it means love God, love others, love up, love up, love out. Oh, that's great. Well, who's it for? Well, it's for middle school. So it's middle school ministry? No, it's up and out. It's up and out, right? And this is what we do. We come up with dumb names for stuff and they're unnecessary and we don't need them and Grace is guilty of this too. I don't know if you know this, but if you haven't been going to Grace for a long time, you might not know that this is called Grace Hall. Now, I've never called it that, but the people who came before me call it that. This is an auditorium, and really, that's insulting to auditoriums. This is a big room with a pole in it, right? That's what this is. So I'm real big on just call it what it is. If it's Sunday school, call it Sunday school. If it's a small group, call it small group. But if it's ministry, call it ministry. So why am I such a stickler about, no, no, no, at Grace, we have partners, we don't have members. And I catch heck for this. I'll be talking to elders or leaders in the church or people who have been going here for a while and they'll be like, yeah, yeah, well, how many members do we have right now? Or what's the membership vote on that? Or are they a member of the church? I'm sorry, they're partners of the church. Like, we got you, buddy. We'll help you carry this load of calling things partners. And everybody kind of giggles at me that I'm a real dummy for insisting that we use the term partners. And I understand. I would make fun of me too if I were you. But let me tell you why I'm such a stickler about this word partner and why it really does define who and what we are at Grace and what we're trying to do. The first reason is not the main reason, but the first reason is the one that I repeat often. A lot of you can probably say this as well. You probably know how the sentence ends, but members tend to consume and partners tend to contribute. That's one of the first reasons. At Grace, we have partners, we don't have members. Members tend to consume and partners tend to contribute, right? If you become a member of something, what do you become primarily concerned with? What are the rights and privileges afforded me as a member of this thing? If you joined BJ's, what are the rights and privileges I get? Costco, you get a dollar slice of pizza. That's a pretty good right and privilege. You join Northridge Country Club, what are the rights and privileges afforded me as a member of this place? Right? When you're a member, you kind of sit back and you go, well, what's in it for me? What do I get out of this? What can I consume? When you're a member, you expect a certain experience. You expect to consume a certain experience. And then when you can't consume it, you critique it. Until you do get to consume the experience you want. As a pastor, I don't really want a church full of members who consume an experience and then critique it when it's not what they want. We want partners who partner with us because partners tend to contribute. Partners take ownership and what they're partnered in and see it as their personal responsibility to see the success of this thing work out. And really, the more I thought about it this week, because we're going to talk about how this is true, but the more I thought about it this week, the more satisfied I was with understanding partners this way. Partners share the burden. That's what partners do. Partners share the burden in myriad ways. The greatest picture of partnership that I've seen in the Bible, and I love this picture in the Bible. I don't have any tattoos, not because I think they're sinful or something, but there's nothing I want to put on my body that I'm sure I'm going to want there in 20 years. So I haven't done anything yet. But if I were going to get one, it may very well be an image of this story. When I think about this story and this scene in the Bible for too long, I'll tear up. I'll start to cry. And I'm going to read this to you, and you're going to think, why is this dude tearing up at this story? Listen, first of all, the older I get, the more I tear up at. Jen and I are back onto watching the Great British Baking Show, and we cry at the end of every episode because we're so happy for Juergen that he gets to call his wife again. Like, we're so thrilled that we tear up, and then we look at each other, and we laugh. And the older I get, the more stuff I cry about. And if you want to judge me for that, I'll tell you right where you can put your judgment. But when I think about this passage and the picture here, it moves me to tears because of how powerful it is. So what's happening is we're in the book of Exodus. I'm going to read from chapter 17. And in the book of Exodus, God's children are wandering through the desert. They're being led by Moses. And a man named Amalek comes up against them with his army and he attacks the Israelite people. He attacks the Hebrew people. And so Moses sends his general, Joshua, out to battle. And he says, I want you to go and I want you to fight against Amalek. And I'm going to go up on the top of this hill and I'm going to hold my staff over my head. And when you're down there fighting and you look up at me, as long as my staff is up over my head, you will prevail. So go and fight. So Joshua does. He gathers the army and he goes and he fights. And this is what happens. We pick it up in verse 11. It's such an incredible picture. Moses says, go down there and you fight that battle. And I'm going to hold this staff over my head. And as long as I hold it up, you guys will prevail. But you know, holding a stick over your head burns the shoulders a little bit. It fatigues the muscles. And so every now and again, he had to shake it out. He got weary. He got tired. He couldn't hold it up. He couldn't carry that burden. And as he got weak, the men on the battlefield began to suffer. And so he had to find the strength and pick his hands back up again for as long as he could to carry that burden. And eventually Aaron and Hur, H-U-R, burden. The burden was too great for Moses. The responsibility was too much. It was too much for one person to handle. There's not a single person here who could have held that over their head for the duration of time that it would require for Joshua to defeat Amalek. And so he needed help because it was too much. And so God sent him partners to bracket his arms, to hold up the staff when he was too weak, to carry that burden when he couldn't. And it is, to me, one of the most poignant pictures in the Bible of community and friendship. And if I'm honest with you, I think that's exactly why it's in the Bible. Whenever you read anything in the Bible, you've got to ask yourself, why is this so important that God wanted me to know about this thousands of years later? Why this detail? Why this story? Why not just write Joshua defeated Amalek? Why not just write Amalek came up against the forces of Israel and God blessed Israel and Israel won? Why not just skip it and go on through? It doesn't matter. I'm sure they had plenty of skirmishes over the 40 years that they were in this desert that we don't know about it because they're not recorded in history. Why this one? I'm convinced. This is just me. I didn't learn this in seminary. Okay, this isn't gospel truth. But if you were to ask me, why is this in the Bible? It's because it's a picture of community. It's a picture of partnership. And it's to show us that there are times when we can't carry the burden on our own and we need people around us to bracket us and hold it up. There's times when the people who we love very much are weary and they can't hold the burden up anymore. And we come and we bracket them and we hold their hands up for them until their strength returns. It's such an incredible picture. And so at Grace, that's what we are. We are partners. We see and we notice when the burden gets too much. And we bracket and we put our hands on the people that we love and we help them carry the load until their strength returns. At Grace, we are partners. And so that word partner is so much deeper to me than a simple, clever replacement for member. That comparison, members consume and partners contribute, that's just the surface level of what a partner is at Grace. Partners carry the burden. And so at Grace, we partner in ministry. We partner in the things that God would have us do here. This starts at the staff level. We have staff meetings every Tuesday. And we talk about everything that everyone is doing. And no one carries their burden by themselves. We talk about when Summer Extreme is coming up, we talk about it in staff meeting. We begin talking about it in February and March and saying, Aaron, our children's pastor, Julie, what can we do to help you? How can you use us? The weeks leading up to Summer Extreme, I tell the staff, hey, we all work for Aaron. She's our boss. Whatever she needs the next couple weeks, that's what we do. When we're heading into the Christmas series and the Christmas service, we work for boy Aaron, worship leader Aaron, the bad Aaron. We work for him. For two, three weeks leading into that, what can we do? How can we help you? What do you need? We speak into everything that we do. What's going on in student ministry and how can we help? Before we do a series, we all talk into it. Before I do sermons, we all talk into them. We share the burden across the spectrum. And so we believe that trickles down to everyone in all that we do. And so at Grace, we partner in ministry. We don't just sit back and say, well, I hope the church is able to do that. Let's see. No, we jump in and see a personal responsibility. There was a great example a few minutes ago. I ran to the hallway after the children's dedication because I like to make sure that while I'm preaching, I don't need to use the restroom. I like to be 100% focused on you. So I ran over there to take care of business. And then I came back. And as I was in the hallway, it dawns on me, gosh, we've got a lot of babies being handed into that small space back there because we got child dedication today. I wonder if we're double staffed. And I looked at a lady who just happened to be standing in the hallway. She was just fodder. She came to attend the service this morning, and I looked at her and just presumptuously said, you might have to jump in that room this morning. She goes, yeah, no, I'm going to stick around and see. That's partnership. There's a need here. I'm a partner of the church. I'm going to step in and I'm going to help carry that. We're going to build a building. We have land we're looking to build. We need partners, which are not to stand back. I hope the church can do this, but actively, how do I partner with the church to make sure that this can happen? In our small groups, your small group leader asks a question, and it's a bad one. It's a dud, right? It's just a dead fish in the middle of the room. You're like, I don't know. I don't know how to answer this question. Your partner in ministry, bail them out, man. Say anything. Say what you're doing for dinner tomorrow. It doesn't matter. Just get the conversation going again. If Erin looks tired, if her hands look weary, if we see the same faces in those hallways and in that back room week in and week out, volunteer, step in, bracket, hold. We jump in. We are partners in ministry. We share the burden in what's happening here. We believe wholeheartedly in that. So at Grace, we are partners in ministry. More importantly than that, at Grace, we are partners in life. We partner with each other through all the seasons of life. One of the things that I've gotten to see more than ever in my position is the wisdom of Solomon when he writes in Ecclesiastes that there is nothing new under the sun. Everything that happens to you happens to everyone else. Every struggle that we walk through is shared by those who came before us and will come after us. And when I think about life and how I get to see these common struggles meted out through all the folks that God allows me to minister to, I just think of people coming out of college in their 20s. And that place where you are, where you're just trying to figure out, who am I? Can I get a job? I'm going to be homeless or live in my parents' basement forever. Can I figure this out? Who am I going to marry? Who am I going to meet? Do I want to build a family? Is that a thing that I want? And then you do get married and you're trying to figure out how can we make it together? What's going to happen here? And then maybe you build a family or maybe you start to build a career and you're just thinking about how do I take the next step? And you have people around you and you have all the same stressors. It's all the same stuff. How am I going to figure this out? How am I going to work out work-life balance? If I'm single, when am I going to meet the person that I want to spend my life with? If I'm married, is this the right person that I actually did want to spend my life with? Like all the things, right? And then you have kids and I'm standing up here and I don't have too many years as far as parenting is concerned on the people who were up here, but there's some with just brand new babies and I've got a six-year-old. I know that I don't know what's ahead of me, okay? So don't hear ignorant arrogance in this, but I also know that these folks over here that just have this tiny little baby and I've got my six-year-old, boy, there's a lot of space and stress to cover between six months and six years old. And so I know a little bit about what they face. And we know a little bit more about what to pray. And then those of you who have kids in high school or older, you know that I'm sitting at six years old and I'm going, gosh, I'm so stressed. And you're like, you don't know nothing. Shut up with your stress. You know what I wouldn't give to just lose an hour of sleep a night and know that my kids are okay? And then they go to college and then they get jobs. And then you look at your husband and your wife and you try to figure out, do we still like each other? Because we just ran a small business for 25 years. We were ships passing in the night trying to get things done. How do we figure out this marriage, right? And then it's not too long that you're empty nesters when you start to take care of your aging parents and all the challenges that are there and everything that awaits you doing that. There is nothing new under the sun. I have watched so many of my friends enter into that phase. And then you leave that phase and you get the joy of being a grandparent maybe. And then you start to age. And aging stinks. And you move into that phase. But in all of that, everything that you're experiencing where you are, all the folks who are older than you have walked through that. And all the folks who are younger than you will. And there is nothing new under the sun. And we face those things. And in the midst of those predictable cycles come the unpredictable diagnoses and loss and triumphs and promotions and surprises and tearful blessings. But it's all things that everyone else has experienced too. And so at grace, you should never walk through that alone. Whatever that is, whatever the fill in the blank is, if you're a part of grace, you should never walk through that alone. You should never, ever walk through parenthood alone, through trying to figure out what to do with this little human, you shouldn't feel like you're facing that alone. When your kids are in middle school, you shouldn't walk through that alone. When you're single and you don't know if you're going to meet your person or not, that you shouldn't walk through that alone. When you experience tragedy, you shouldn't walk through that alone. When you experience triumph and celebration, you shouldn't walk through that alone. Is there anything sadder than someone experiencing tremendous joy, getting the best news possible, and not having anyone to share it with? No, that's heartbreaking. You shouldn't walk through caring for your aging parents alone. You shouldn't walk through empty nesting alone. We shouldn't walk through any of that stuff alone. We were not designed to walk through it alone. That was not God's intent. We are partners in life. We walk with each other. And we have a friend whose strength is failing. And she doesn't have the strength to fight for her marriage anymore. She's done. It's hard. Her shoulders are tired. We come beside her. We get her a seat. And we bracket ourselves against her and we hold her hands until she has the strength again. We have friends who are parents and they've given up and they don't know what to do. We bracket them and we hold them up. We have a friend who's facing addiction or sin and they feel like giving up. Their arms are tired, and they just can't hold out anymore. We come alongside them. We press up against them, and we hold their hands up in the fight until their strength is restored to do it again. We are partners in life. I am convinced that one of God's greatest gifts is that of community and friendship. There is almost nothing in my life I hold more sacred than the people who I love, than the friends who are close to me, than the people who have come alongside me and held up my hands when I was too tired, than the people who I've stood beside and watched them regain their strength and stand back up. At Grace, we are partners, and that means we are partners in life. And here's the other thing I'll mention. I had a lunch with someone this week. And I found out that over COVID, one of them lost both of their parents. Another one of them had to put their parents into memory care and separate his parents. That's an incredible burden. And they've been carrying it alone. And I told them I was going to say this. Grace, don't walk alone. They didn't tell anybody. How can the church do what it needs to do if you carry all that yourself? If you sit there on the top of the hill, holding it up, struggling, crying, failing, knowing that it's all going to have to collapse. Tell us. Tell us. Let us come alongside. Let us hold you up. And this is where I would press in and chide you a little bit if you're a longtime grace person. At grace, and I would assume most places, we love to be, are anxious to be, excited to be, happy to be the person who stands in brackets. We will do this for you all day long. We will do this for you for as long as it takes until your strength is restored. We're happy to do that. We do not at all want to be the person here needing help. But this doesn't work if we don't let other people partner with us too. So get over yourselves, Grace. Let people help you. Let people be your partner too. Finally, we are partners in faith. We do not walk the spiritual journey alone. Most importantly, we're partners in faith. We come alongside one another and we help one another grow. We're going to talk more about this next week, how we can be partners in faith when we talk about how we are step takers. But at Grace, we are partners in faith. We come alongside one another. We foster one another's spiritual life. I saw somebody say this week or last that they are convinced, and I am too. I totally agreed with this, the longer they are in the Christian faith, the longer they are in this Christian life, the more they believe that it is simply about hanging on. It's simply about clinging to Jesus. That's why I think when Paul tells us in Ephesians 6 to put on the full armor of God, he says, put on the full armor of God, and he goes through all the things that you're supposed to put on so you can stand against the wiles of the devil. And then at the end, he says, and when you have stood firm, stand firm therefore. Just another one. When you have done it, when you fought the good fight, keep fighting, keep standing firm, keep clinging. In every list of Christian attributes, you will eventually find perseverance. Just hang on. Just cling to faith. I'm reminded of what Jesus says to John the Baptist when John the Baptist essentially says, hey, I'm pretty sure you're Jesus, but you've kind of let me down here because I'm going to lose my life in this prison. And Jesus says, yeah, you are. And blessed are those who do not fall away because of me. Blessed are those who still choose faith in me when I've let them down because their expectations of me were wrong. I'm reminded of when Jesus told the gathering of people that unless you eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. And all the crowds went, that dude's weird. And they left. And he looked at his disciples and he said, are you going to leave me too? And Peter says, you're Jesus. Where are we going to go? You don't make any sense to me. I don't want to cannibalize you. I'm not into that. But I also know who you are. Where else am I going to go? That's faith. We know Jesus. Where else are we going to go? Even when he mystifies us, even when it doesn't make sense, even when it's hard to figure out, even when we're faced with those situations where we go, how does a good God let stuff like this happen? We cling to faith. And sometimes our hands get tired. Sometimes clinging to faith is hard. And so we need godly people around us who love us and who love Jesus to hold our hands up for us and help us cling to faith when ours is failing. That prayer that's prayed, Jesus, I believe, help my unbelief. When we pray that, you know how he helps you sometimes? By bringing friends in to encourage you. A phone call or a text or an email or a lunch. So most importantly, Grace, we are partners in faith. We help each other cling. We help each other thrive. We help each other strive. We help each other take steps towards Jesus. That's what we do. That's why I asked DJ to read a 300-fold cord. I want us to use our tremendous community and our tremendously deep friendships to be partners in ministry, to be partners in life, and to be partners in faith. And my closing encouragement would be that if you were one who feels like you don't have that yet, pray for it. Pursue it. Ask God for it. You'll find it. If you are one who does feel like you have this, and you do have good and rich and deep friendships here, please know that God did not give you that community just for you or the people who are already in it, but that the job of a good, godly, biblical community is to turn outwards and to say, who else needs what we got? Because it's pretty good. Who else can we partner with? So when I say at Grace we have partners, we don't have members, this is what I mean. And this is why I'm a stickler about it because I believe it's that important. Let's pray. Father, we love you. We thank you for who you are and what you've done for us. Lord, I pray that if there's somebody here who doesn't know you, who hasn't accepted Jesus as their Savior, that they would do that. God, I lift up once again these families that are represented today. Would their extended families partner with them in the raising of these children in godly homes? Would the friends of these mamas and daddies rally around them and raise their hands up when their arms are weary? For the people in this room and listening who are caring for aging parents, God, would you surround them with people to raise up their hands? God, for the folks here who need you, who are tired, in whatever it is, would you surround them with godly community? Would you surround them with partners who pick them up? And God, for those of us who need help, for those of us who are tired, for those of us who just don't know if we can hold it up anymore, would you give us the humility to reach out to our friends, to our community, and to our partners, and experience the life-giving goodness of your community, God. We pray all these things in your son's name. Amen.