The Park Road Pulpit

“… your steadfast love is better than life…” articulates the faith stance that persons in times past tried to elicit with a question reportedly asked to candidates for the ordained ministry in Calvinist churches: “Are you willing to be damned for the glory of God?” That this question now sounds so silly to us may be an indication of how difficult it is for persons in a self-centered culture to understand the intimacy of relatedness to God described in Psalm 63.[1]

Let that question sink in for just a moment. And then imagine yourself a candidate for ordination. A minister, with a strict, Calvinist theology. Beginning a lifetime of service. Of doing “the Lord’s work.” Such literal words could hardly have been any more literally, soul-jarring: “Are you willing to suffer the flames of Hell? The fiery torment of eternal punishment -- for the Glory of God? (If God so chooses?) And in a strict Calvinist theology, God might just so choose. For such is God’s sovereign right. You see, in John Calvin’s logic, if God, in His great mercy, chose to save only one human being, in all of human history, such a salvation would prove, not the injustice of God (so sinfully-undeserving are we all), no, the salvation of just one would prove God’s great grace.

So, ministers with a strict Calvinist bearing, would believe, too well, that they might be among those, ironically-chosen to serve God – and yet not among those graciously elected for eternal salvation. “Are you willing to be damned…?”

One of those small, but great “ah ha” moments in the journey of understanding our faith came for me when I read of several of John Calvin’s followers, who had written to the great reformer seeking comfort and encouragement. However it is, in such a theological mindset, that one tragically comes to believe oneself eternally damned, these followers had come to such a dreadful conclusion. God had not chosen them for salvation. Of this, they were sure. And yet… they did not despair. Even convinced of their terrifying fate … they pressed on… in the continued worship of a just God, and in the self-giving service of a Christ of great compassion. Believing there would be no heavenly crown, no eternal reward for them, yet they persevered in the Way of Jesus. Even believing that what awaited their faithful obedience was a horror beyond description, yet they remained faithful and obedient. Damned... For the Glory of God.

Jesus said that anyone who seeks to save his own life will surely lose it. Only she who can love God – without regard even for her own soul – will find life. These followers, the unfortunate victim’s of Calvin’s logic, surely met that criterion. They loved for no reason except the only right reason. …for [God’s] steadfast love is better than life…[2]

In the interpretation of [ancient] times this [text] was associated with martyrs who valued God more than life and gave up their lives rather than deny their testimony. But in a salvation religion there is always the danger for all believers to take the value of their own lives as the primary reason to trust God. This verse leads us in prayer to the point of devotion to God alone that must be the goal of all true faith.[3]

What is the goal of your faith? And what kind of disciple does that make you? Is the “value of your own life” the primary reason for your trust? Or, is there really something selfless going on in your devotion?

What kind of disciple was Jesus? Why did he respond as he did? And what were his small-but-great “ah ha” moments? The truth is, we know very little about him. Of most of his 30-year life, there is only silence. But it is that great silence that draws us down this Lenten journey. I wish there were more to give us insight, but one thing is clear to me from the reading of his story. During all those silent years, Jesus was hardly silent.

He was a student before he was a teacher. A disciple before he was Lord.[4] The only story of his childhood pictures a precocious youth, sitting boldly with the brightest minds of his day. But not silently. Talking. Teaching. Learning (Luke 2.41-52). I believe that his inquisitive mind continued to be nurtured formally and informally through the silent years, for Jesus comes on the scene as one, well-rounded for his trade as itinerant prophet: part teacher/part listener, part mystic/part socialite, part visionary/part revolutionary, part debater/part preacher, part healer/part friend. The stories of the Gospels make all of these qualities known, but it was none of these qualities that make Jesus’ own discipleship noteworthy. What did make his discipleship so uniquely exemplary? It was his great thirst.

I believe that Jesus read and knew today’s Psalm, and was one of those intense believers, whose quest for God was eerily palpable, intimately tangible, and absolutely insatiable. The Jesus of our Gospels spent much time alone, much time in intense prayer. These disciplines of reflection and contemplation are appropriate indicators of such thirst. But the great mark of Jesus’ thirsty discipleship was not what many Christians today regard as the “spiritual” practices of private piety (prayer and the like), but the very authentic, very public, very dangerous way that he made his thirst visible to all.[5]

In great contrast to the theological affirmation of Mel Gibson’s current blockbuster movie, I do not believe that “Dying Was [Jesus’] Reason for Living.”[6] Quite the opposite. So thirsty was he, the disciple, for truth. So thirsty was he, the human being for right-ness of living. So thirsty was Jesus for God… that living was the reason for his dying.

Have you ever been totally dry? Dusty, parched, I’m-going-to-die-if-I-don’t-get-just-a-sip-of-water dry? I cannot imagine the agony of dying of thirst, for there is absolutely nothing better than a long, cool drink of water when I’ve been out, exposed to the sun. I love that feeling, of being so thirsty and dry that when I finally do get a drink, I can actually feel the water going all the way down my esophagus and into your stomach. The desire of thirst is great, indeed, and all people know it. Thirst is a fact of our life.

So powerful is the experience of thirst, that people will do almost anything to quench it. This is true of physical thirst, and true of emotional and psychological thirst as well. And, this is true of spiritual thirst. (Define “spiritual” how you may. Define “quench” how you might. The drive to satisfy the human “thirst” for the “spiritual” is undeniable.) Spiritual thirst is real, and it is a great, and growing, force in our world today. More than ever, then, the question that needs to be asked of the faithful is this: ultimately, does our discipleship serve to slake our own thirst or will our thirst serve a greater purpose?

Did you catch that little phrase in the Psalm? So I will bless [God] as long as I live… To bless something is to give it one’s support. One’s stamp of approval. One’s own power and authority. Most believers (Christian and non-Christian) practice discipleship as an effort to convince God to “bless me.” They are thirsty, and can become desperate, fanatical, even suicidal in their craving for God’s blessing. But Jesus taught us a new way of discipleship.

It is discipleship -- for God sake. Failing to live by Jesus’ law of love (“Do to others as you would have them do to you,” Matthew 7.12), is self-serving and can ultimately only prove destructive. But fully living Jesus’ discipleship will also get you no where – unless, of course, you consider a cross “somewhere.” In his discipleship, then, we are “Damned if we don’t. And damned if we do!”

Jesus’ discipleship, discipleship for God’s sake, is a life lived in the service of “blessing God.” To “blessing God” is to give your power to God, your living words to God, the approval of your good name to God (regardless what God “gives back”). “Blessing God” is giving God your whole life, even if life “damns” you at every turn!

So, can you hear the question now? Are you willing to be damned (by heaven or earth) for the Glory of God? For those who will save their life, will lose it…And those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it…[7]

O God, you are my God. I seek you, my soul thirsts for your… So, I will bless you as long as I live… In Old and Middle English the word “blessing” was related to the word “blood.” For those who truly thirst for God, it still is.[8]

There was a great trembling shudder of the earth, and in a moment the sky fell. Glass shattered, concrete and steel crumbled, electric lines popped and sparks flew… And then there was just dust and darkness. Hours later a California mother lay in the fear of the slow and inevitable, pinned under the weight of all her world. And in this darkness a greater torment came to her. The torment came in the words of a child. Her child. Also trapped, and within an arm’s reach. But trapped a world away from a mother’s ability to control.

Reaching for the child instinctively, her hands found the small face and mouth. A few drops of blood fell from her fingers onto the child’s tongue. In the macabre truth of a story than could only be real life, the child in the dark pleaded for more. (We will do almost anything to quench our thirst.) And so, a mother did. Feeling for a few broken shards in the rubble, fresh wounds gave way to a well-spring of thirst-quenching life.[9]

The writer of the Gospel of John tells us that in his moments of death, Jesus also cried out in great thirst (John 19.28). But, I wonder about that cry. Was it the desperate appeal of a child, crying in the dark? Or was his cry the faith-filled affirmation of a mother, with no hope of salvation who “gave what she could not keep, to gain what she could not lose?”[10]

[1] J. Clinton McCann, Jr., The New Interpreter’s Bible, “Psalms,” p.928.

[2] My introduction to Calvinism came as a third-year seminary student, taking classes at Erskine (Associate Reform Presbyterian) Seminary. I am indebted to Dr. Merwyn Johnson for his instruction, for his knowledge of Calvin’s thought, and for his Christian commitment. During this time, I came to call myself (somewhat tongue-in-cheek), a “Calvinist” – so important were the insights that Dr. Johnson brought to my own life and faith. As a Baptist, reared in the tradition of a conversionist faith (salvation was a matter of my own choosing – for or against Christ), Calvin’s insistence that salvation is “of God alone” was an important insight into my understanding of salvation “by grace alone” (Ephesians 2.8). Ironically, it was through the theology of John Calvin that I came to believe more strongly in God’s “grace” than I had previously (even as a Baptist!) in God’s predestining “judgment.”

[3] McCann, The New Interpreter’s Bible, “Psalms,” p.928, quoting James L. Mays.

[4] His book, The Human Being: Jesus and the Enigma of the Son of the Man,” is an investigation into the life of Jesus as a human being. Walter Wink asks some of the same questions in his book as we are asking in this series, questions of the human Jesus: “Before he was worshiped as God incarnate, how did Jesus struggle to incarnate God?” “Before he himself was made the sole mediator between God and humanity, how did Jesus experience and communicate the presence of God?” “ Before forgiveness became a function solely of his cross, how did he understand people to have been forgiven?” (Introduction, p.2)

[5] I am continuing my argument, here, that true “spirituality” is grounded (a very intentional word) in very earthly living. “True spirituality, you see, is not about being connected to the next world or the next life, for Jesus has shown us that the most spiritual persons are the ones who are grounded to this life, in costly love. In such earthly love, even the most common gifts, become uncommonly good. (from my sermon, “Common Good. UnCommon Gifts.” January 18, 2004.)

[6] One of the marketing materials distributed to coincide with Gibson’s film is a bulletin cover, being used by churches across the country, that pictures James Caviezel (the actor in Gibson’s Jesus), and the caption, “Dying Was His Reason for Living.”

[7] The tension of this text and of this sermon goes to the very heart of the “conversionist religion” (“salvation religion,” per Mays in the quotation, above) that is so prevalent in our culture. What is most important in that kind of religion is my salvation. Another way to ask the Calvinist question, then, is “Are you willing to give up the easy assurance of your “salvation” to truly serve God?” (And, to our more liberal members, I might translate: “Are you willing to give up your freedom in pursuit of a “becoming truth”?) The essential point is simply this: true discipleship will cost us – that which is most important to us.

[8] The origin of “bless” is the Old English, “bletsian.” In Middle English it was, “blessen,” and had the meaning, “to mark or consecrate w/ blood.”

[9] I heard this report on a National Public Radio station several years ago. I do not recall the details of the event (California might not be the actual location), but was moved by the actions of the mother. If memory serves, the pair were successfully rescued (the only way the story could have been told).

[10] The anonymous quote is, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose.”