Sunday, February 5, 2006
Sermon: “Jesus Can Do…”
Scripture:
Mark 1: 29-39
Reverend Larry Gerber
Jesus Christ can’t drive in West Virginia, but he can drive, and drive with power!
Asked to identify one or two of the most timeless and/or perplexing questions of Christian theology, you might mumble something about theodicy, or christology, Erasmus and Luther’s debates on free will, infant baptism or whether “Awesome God” is really good music.
Or you might wonder what possessed Pat Robertson to suggest that the United States “take out” Venezuela’s anti-Bush leader, Chavez, because it would be cheaper than starting a war. Sigh.
You’re not likely to ask, “What Would Jesus Drive?” simply because you’ve heard that question before. And yawned.
Whether Jesus would drive a Ford Expedition or a fuel-friendly Toyota Prius is a moot point.
Because Jesus Christ can’t get a driver’s license. So there you have it.
We know this because he applied for one in West Virginia. And the Department of Motor Vehicles flatly turned him down.
The West Virginia Jesus Christ was born Peter Robert Phillips Jr. Currently living in Washington, D.C., he changed his name to Jesus Christ some 15 years ago. He claims that the name change was made to honor the Jesus of the Bible in whom he has personal faith.
So now Jesus Christ has a U.S. passport, a Social Security number and a Washington, D.C., driver’s license, but no license in West Virginia. The 35th state would not grant Jesus Christ a state identification because Phillips had not been able to legally change his name from that written on his Florida birth certificate. A District of Columbia judge denied the legal change several years ago, citing Scriptures and suggesting that adopting the name “Jesus Christ” might be blasphemous, potentially resulting in significant offense to people or even violent reactions.
So in response to the more familiar WWJD question — “What Would Jesus Do?” — apparently the answer is, Jesus wouldn’t drive. At least not in West Virginia.
But the Jesus Christ of Nazareth had something that the JC of DC does not.
Power. Divine power.
JC might not be able to drive in West Virginia, but Jesus Christ of Nazareth was able to do plenty in Judea, Galilee and Samaria and up and down the Jordan River Valley. Plenty.
In Mark 1, God introduces his Son, who comes with his approval and bears his power. John the Baptist sets the stage for this Jesus: “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals” (1:7). [Emphasis added.] And God showers his favor on this Jesus: “And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased’” (1:11).
Jesus is led into the desert to be tempted, but resists the devil and is unscathed by the lure of sin (1:12-13). He bids simple fishermen come follow him (1:14-20), and on the shoulders of these unlikely compatriots he inaugurates his kingdom which has endured 2,000 years to date. He bests the religious authoritarians of his day with his teachings and dismisses demonic powers with mere words (1:21-27). He brings healing and hope to the infirm and inadequate (1:29-34).
So don’t say he can’t drive. He can drive. He drives past the traditionalists of his day. He drives into new territory — his disciples following. He drives his enemies nuts.
Mark wants to be sure that we see from the very beginning that this God-man Jesus is huge! He’s beyond anything the world has seen — or would ever see.
Now consider how our contemporary culture responds to people with standout abilities. Television golf ratings go up when Tiger’s in contention. We muggle our way into bookstores to find out what Rowling has done to Potter this time. We let Richard Simmons or Atkins or South Beach dictate our habits from sunup to sundown. It’s a sociological truism: We worship our cultural heroes. We want to look like them, think like them. Eat what they eat, wear what they wear, comb our hair the way they comb their hair.
When we see proven ability to putt, or write, or design a diet, we’ll worship, we’ll read, we’ll change our lifestyles.
So consider how we respond to the power and ability of a God-man who rebuffs the devil, dismisses his minions, teaches with an authority and heals the sick.
It’s an interesting comparison to make. But when we read this text, there is a familiar yet frequently overlooked concept at work: We have the same access to a world-altering power that Jesus himself did.
Right in the middle of this power-packed passage, we read verse 35 (NIV): “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.”
Now why is this detail here? Is Mark giving us a setting change for the rest of the passage? Is it playful Messiah hide-and-seek when the disciples can’t find him? Or is there perhaps a connection between the can-do Jesus and the do-pray Jesus.
The Bible suggests the latter: “Very truly,” Jesus says, “I tell you, the Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing; for whatever the Father does, the Son does likewise” (John 5:19). Jesus accesses his divine powers through prayer intimacy with God.
Our prayers won’t make us the miracle worker that Jesus was, and that clearly isn’t the point. The message is twofold: Jesus radically alters the lives of the disciples, the crowds, the demon-possessed, Peter’s mother-in-law and the leprous man ... and Jesus prays. Note the connection.
And these aren’t just past accounts of the historical Jesus. They are affirmations of who God is and how we can hope in him today.
Power happens when prayer happens.
George McDonald said it well: “Why should the good of anyone depend on the prayer of another? I can only answer with the return question, ‘Why should my love be powerless to help another?’”
The example of Jesus at prayer is nestled in this power-passage for a clear reason. We can, like our Savior, throw ourselves before our God who is the source of power and the source of change.
The leper had this theology down pat in verse 40: “If you choose, you can make me clean (1:40). What an amazing statement of simple faith recognizing limitless ability! And Jesus was affected by it; he was filled with compassion (v. 41).
Can Jesus bring life to a hopeless marriage? Can Jesus heal cancer? Can Jesus grant you a new and more fulfilling career? Can Jesus soften the heart of your hardest relative? Can Jesus redeem you though you have that deep and hidden sin that you don’t want anyone to know about?
The answer to any question of “Can Jesus do _______,” is “He can if he wills.”
So pray.
Pray for the power of God and the will of God. This is hope and this is faith.
Jesus has life-over-death power. And he uses it with compassion to make hope and healing and restoration and redemption all hallmarks of his kingdom.
That is why we worship this Jesus. That is why we read about and listen to this Jesus. That is why we alter our entire lifestyles according to the will of this Jesus. That is why we call this Jesus our Good Shepherd, our Daily Bread, our Hope, our Savior, our Lord.
So while JC of DC cannot get a driver’s license, Jesus Christ of Nazareth can do whatever he and his Father and the Spirit are pleased to do.
This is our Jesus. This is our theology. This is our hope. This is our prayer. Come….the Table is waiting.