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Text:
Matthew 11:25-30 W 8th
Sunday after Pentecost The God of Extremes In the name of him who in love has
revealed the Father to us, dear friends in Christ: In this morning’s Gospel reading we heard
again the very comforting invitation of our Lord Jesus to come to him for rest.
In our invariably fast paced and hectic modern lives you have to admit it’s
an invitation that sounds pretty good. I’m
sure we all have those days (and maybe weeks and months) when we say, “I sure could
use a break. “ Anyway, lifted out of its broader context the
way we heard it, you might get the impression that when Jesus made this offer
he was addressing a large audience of weary and careworn refugees who had come
to him for aid. That’s the scene you
might conjure up in your mind’s eye, anyway; but that would be wrong. The truth is that other than his immediate
disciples very few people heard him say it. How do I know? Well, it turns out that Jesus spoke the words
of this morning’s text after he had sent his twelve disciples out on what most
people would consider to be a failed evangelism campaign. He had sent them forward armed with the Good
News of the Kingdom and the power to perform miracles of healing and the
casting out of demons. Their job was to go
to the towns and villages that Jesus would soon visit and lay
the groundwork for Jesus’ own arrival.
And so the disciples went out and did it—or they tried to anyway. They didn’t get much of a response. Oh, they drew some interest: mostly rubberneckers and thrill seekers who
paid attention long enough to see what the commotion was about, but who then
didn’t care for what they heard, lost interest, and went back to their normal
business. So the disciples returned to
Jesus somewhat disappointed. The overall
result of their mission was underwhelming to say the least. And apparently they brought back a complaint
from the people they encountered. They
were saying that John the Baptist had been too severe. With him it was all hellfire and brimstone. Discipleship under John meant fasting and
prayer, deep sorrow over sin, and denying yourself
life’s creature comforts. He made it too
hard to be a disciple. Jesus, on the
other hand, they said was too easy.
“Why, he and his followers attend wedding feasts, and parties are thrown
in Jesus’ honor—at which they all drink wine freely! Can you believe it? And they hang out with all kinds of
scoundrels and low lives. What kind of
supposed men of God do those things?” So the people’s assessment was that in a
spiritual sense the burden John laid on them was too heavy and the burden of
Jesus too light. What they wanted was a
form of religion that Goldilocks could have appreciated: one that was just right. Neither too hard nor too
soft; not too hot or cold; just sort of lukewarm. They wanted a spiritual burden that made them
work some, that is, they wanted it to be heavy enough that they could
have a sense of accomplishment and the satisfaction that goes with it without
it being too difficult. And for that
reason they rejected both the message of John and Jesus. And Jesus takes them to task for it. In the passage that immediately precedes the
words of this morning’s text, Jesus pronounces a series of frightful warnings
and woes on the people who lived in the places where so many of his mighty
miracles had been performed. According
to Jesus the wonders they saw should have confirmed the authority of his
message. Seeing the hand of God at work
in his ministry and that of his disciples should have proved the divine origin
of his words. But no; the prevailing
conventional wisdom about what true faithfulness to the Lord consists of,
namely that – what shall we call it?
That “medium heavy” yoke of spirituality – the way of faithfulness that
calls me to do some but not too
much – the desire for that kind of a religion overrode and negated the
teaching of Jesus and his invitation to find forgiveness and spiritual rest in
him. And that, sadly, is the way most
people saw it. And on account of it they
missed out on the salvation he came to bring. But rather than be disappointed himself about
the meager results of his ministry to date, what we heard in this morning’s
text is Jesus giving thanks to his heavenly Father for the comparatively few who
did respond. “I thank you, Father, Lord
of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and
understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was
your gracious will.” There are a couple things worth mentioning
here. First, that Jesus is clearly an
optimist. Rather than see the glass as almost
empty, he is thankful for the little that it does contain. And it reminds us of how he said that angels
in heaven rejoice over even one sinner who comes to repentance and faith. It suggests that we should think the same way
– that we who tend to measure success in terms of
numbers should focus instead on individuals. Secondly, a lot of theological debate swirls
around the question of why some people come to faith in Jesus and his Gospel
and others consistently reject it. And
though we don’t have the full answer given here, we are at least given some
insight into the mystery. The truth of
God, Jesus says, has been hidden from the wise and understanding. Not only do they not get it; they can’t. It’s been obstructed from their view. And of course Jesus is referring here to people
who possess the wisdom and understanding of the world. And part of what’s blinding them is their own
purported wisdom. Humans have by nature
a tendency to think of and describe God in terms of what they want him (or her)
to be. And what we want is that God of
the middle way: a God who in general rewards
those who do good and punishes those who do evil; but
who isn’t too extreme about anything. We
want a God who can be bargained with, who will bless us or answer our prayers
in exchange for favors that we can perform for him. We want a God who approves our own moral
agendas, who lets me determine what’s right or wrong for my happiness and just
sort of rubberstamps my choices. We want
a God who is open to all religious ideas that people might come up with, who
doesn’t really care how he’s worshipped or what people call him;
but who happily accepts any effort to reach out to him and every noble
aspiration of the human spirit to find him.
And most of all we want a God who approves of me, who looks down from heaven above and sees that I’m trying the
best I can to please him by carrying this “medium heavy” yoke for him, and who
will reward me accordingly. This is the
sort of God human wisdom and understanding comes up with. And this vision of what people think God should be blocks their view of the real
McCoy. To whom does God reveal himself and his truth
then? Jesus says, “to
little children”. The actual word he
uses refers to infants and toddlers. And
what, we might ask, is it about them that makes them able to see what the wise
and understanding can’t? Let me suggest
several things. First, they have no
preconceived notions about who God is or how he operates. They are in total reception mode, accepting
without doubt whatever the Lord chooses to reveal of himself. They don’t have a false god of their own
imagination blocking their view. Second,
they have a strong sense of wonder. For
the infant everything is new and fascinating.
There is delight in the simplest of things and joy in repetition. What seems mindless monotony to an adult is
the source of endless entertainment to a child.
That’s why they can hear the same story a hundred times and still beg to
hear it again. Finally, they are
completely dependent. They have no sense
that they can carry a part of the load for themselves; rather they themselves
must be carried. They depend on others
for everything: food, clothing, shelter,
cleansing, love – they can’t do anything for
themselves. And they know it. And so it is to infants and to those who
possess these qualities of infants that the Lord reveals himself. They’re the
only ones who can see him. And what he
reveals is that he’s not the god of the middle way. He’s the God of extremes. He’s extremely powerful, wise, and holy. He’s an absolute perfectionist. He’s very particular about who comes into his
presence and how. He cannot be bargained
with. His moral code is inflexible. His fury over your sin is as hot as hellfire
and his mercy and forgiveness for you in Jesus is as cold and refreshing as a
glacier fed mountain stream. That’s what
the Lord was revealing of himself through the starkly contrasting ministries of
John and Jesus. John showed the way of
God’s law. Through John he demonstrated
that there’s no happy medium with the law:
if try to carry any of it, you must carry all of it; and so anyone who
tries to approach the Lord by that path will find himself staggering under a burden
far too heavy to bear. This was God’s
purpose in giving the law to sinners: to place us under its crushing weight
precisely so that we’d cry out for and welcome with gratitude the relief that
we hear Jesus offer today. And welcome it we do for this is our Father’s
gracious will. It was his good and
gracious will to place our extreme load of guilt on his Son. The prophet Isaiah wrote, “It pleased the
Lord to crush him” which he did for our sakes when he carried the infinitely
heavy yoke of the cross to So what’s the upshot of all this? Two things:
first that we recognize in ourselves the tendency to want to water down
our understanding of the Lord and try to fit him into the mold of our own
preferences and imagination. That’s not
the way to do it. To know him as he is we
need to be on the receiving end of his revelation. When we do that we discover that he is a God
who reveals himself to us in extremes and stark contrasts. Let’s avoid the temptation to smudge his
image or try to find gray where he has given us black and white. And for where we have been guilty of any of
this, let’s repent and receive his forgiveness. And secondly, let’s apply these truths to our
own evangelism and outreach efforts.
Like the disciples, we’ve been sent out to prepare individuals – one at
a time – to receive the Lord Jesus.
Knowing that they have a false perception, let’s make sure that from us
they get a corrected portrait – one that presents all the extremes of God –
that they may come to know him as he is, rightly tremble at his wrath over sin,
and so welcome and receive the peace and perfect rest that he gives freely in
Christ Jesus our Lord. And then with then
and the angels of heaven we will all rejoice.
In Jesus’ name.
Amen. Soli Deo Gloria! |
