Unswerving

Unswerving

Hebrews 10:19-25

August 11, 2019 • Mount Pleasant UMC

I grew up in church. I was baptized in the Sedalia Methodist Episcopal Church and shortly after that, in the midst of the merger that created the United Methodist Church, Sedalia Church was closed and my parents’ membership and a lot of our family activities shifted to the Rossville United Methodist Church, five miles away. We always said we were in the church building any time the doors were unlocked, and that isn’t far from the truth. Sunday School, worship, youth activities, Bible studies, church dinners in the basement—all of those are a treasured part of my growing up years. I got involved early on. My dad would take me to United Methodist Men’s breakfasts every month, and I would listen to the men talk as Ned cooked the eggs on the griddle. I earned those coveted perfect attendance pins from Sunday School and made my way through each grade level until I got into Miss Esther’s high school class. I was president of the youth group, director of the children’s choir and even helped print the church newsletter for several years. As I said, I grew up in church. Literally.

Church was never a question for us. In our small town, everyone I knew went to church, and though my brother and I did get excited when it snowed heavily and there was a chance church might be cancelled, for the most part, church was just a normal part of the rhythm of life. We didn’t question it. I put my trust in Jesus at an early age and never looked back. I’ve just always assumed that, if I am following Jesus, I will be part of the church. After all, it was Jesus who created the church and said the gates of hell would not prevail against it (cf. Matthew 16:18).

Church, as an institution, though, has fallen on hard times these days. Church has become one option among many—often the option chosen “if nothing better comes along.” When I was a youth pastor, I would have these conversations with my students. I would schedule an event, invite them to come, and get the response, “Well, I don’t know what I’m doing that day yet!” My response would be: “If you commit to this event, then you’ll know what you’re doing!” But in my lifetime, “church” has gone from a default setting for many people to being “the ‘I’ve got nothing better to do’ choice.” It’s also true that the church has lost a lot of credibility in our world. Sex scandals involving clergy and laity alike, financial scandals, denominations fighting amongst themselves (we don’t know anything about that, do we?)—these and other factors cause a lot of people today to say, “Church? I don’t need that! I can get that kind of behavior in the world!”

And yet—Jesus’ original plan for spreading the Gospel to the whole world was the church. That plan has not changed! The church is Plan A—and there is no Plan B! So, heading into the fall, I want us to take a look at the Biblical model for the church (which isn’t so much an institutional model as it is a set of qualities). We want to celebrate Christ’s church and also celebrate this church. I mean, we are here because this is an important part of our lives. For some of you, Mount Pleasant has been a long-lasting part of your life, and for others of us, we’ve come to love this church only in the last few years. But either way, long time or short, I want to encourage us in the next few weeks to really discern why church is important. What is it we love about the church and what is it we love about this church? I’ve invited you to wear the shirts we had made for this series, “I Love My Church,” as we think about exactly why we do love the church. Because, you see, the church is still Jesus’ plan for winning the world.

So, over the next six weeks, we’re going to talk about community, prayer, witness, service, love and vision—all vital characteristics of the church and, I believe, the essence of what it means to be Christ’s church. This is not meant to be an exhaustive list—the church might be and probably is other things—but I do believe and hope that, as we talk about these things, those who struggle with the church might have reason to fall in love with her again, and those who love the church might understand our place in her better. So, let’s get started as we turn this morning to a letter written near the end of the first century, written by an anonymous author to those who needed to see Jesus as the fulfillment of all their hopes.

Hebrews, like many of the New Testament letters, spends the first half discussing doctrine and the second half talking about practical application. We don’t have time this morning to go through all the details of what the author is trying to help his readers understand (though you’ll have a chance to read some of it this week), so let me sum it up this way: Jesus is better. Jesus is better than the old covenant, he’s the highest hope, he’s the culmination of everything God wanted to do in the world. Jesus is better, and in light of that truth, we’re given three challenges which will cause us to ask three questions. So let’s get to it.

The first challenge is in verse 22: “Let us draw near to God.” Now, let’s remember that for ancient Jews, for first-century Hebrews, God was not someone you “drew near” to. God was not a buddy, a friend, or even someone you could really know. Paul reflects that tradition when he reminds Timothy that God dwells in “unapproachable light” (1 Timothy 6:16). In the Temple, the place where God was said to live was the Holy of Holies, and between there and the rest of the sanctuary was a thick curtain. The high priest only went into God’s presence once a year, on the Day of Atonement, and he did not stay long. There is a story in Leviticus (10:1-3) where two priests died while offering incense, and still in the first century, people would get nervous if the priest didn’t return quickly (cf. Morris, “Hebrews,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 12, pg. 103). But, maybe you remember, when Jesus died, that curtain was torn from top to bottom (Matthew 27:51), and the early Christians believed that Jesus’ death in some way had opened direct access to God (cf. 10:20). When the curtain was torn, it was thought God was saying, “No more do you have to go through a priest to get to me. You can come to me directly. There are no more barriers!” Even so, for the average reader in the first century, this challenge to “draw near to God” was probably a little scary. After all, God was known as “a consuming fire” (Deuteronomy 4:24; cf. Hebrews 12:29). We teach our kids as soon as they can move around to stay away from fire. But we’re supposed to draw near to this fire? Draw near to God?

Yes, because Jesus has already prepared the way. That’s the point of the first part of this morning’s Scripture reading: we can confidently and without fear draw near to God because of Jesus. It’s not that somehow we now have a “kinder, gentler God.” No, God is still God. He's still a consuming fire who lives in unapproachable light. But Jesus has taken care of our sin—the stuff that keeps us away from God—and we come before God as if we’d never sinned. He shows the way; he is the way—he told us that (cf. John 14:6). Because of him we don’t have to go through someone else to get to God the Father; we can draw near to God, and yet so few people choose to do so. Far too often, we keep God at a distance. We don’t take advantage of the avenues we have—like prayer, Bible study and worship—to come near to God. We call on God when we need something, but other than that, we prefer to live our own lives. “Draw near” implies a relationship—a close relationship—one in which we are known by God and we know God well. Like a close friendship, drawing near means we want to spend time together. We like hanging out. “Let us draw near to God” (10:22). So here’s the first question: for what or whom am I yearning?

We’re going to come back to these questions when we have all three of them in place, so let’s turn now to the second challenge this author puts before us. That’s in verse 23: “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess.” Two words that are important to notice in that verse: “unswervingly” and “hope.” Why “hope” and not “faith”? The two are not synonymous, so why did the author focus on “hope” rather than doctrine or faith or belief? Back in chapter 6, the author described hope as an “anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (6:19), and most of us know what an anchor does. It holds in place something that would easily drift. No matter what the waves do, an anchor holds a boat in place. The hope we have does the same thing for us. No matter what happens around us, no matter how much the world shifts or what circumstances come up against us, the hope we have in Jesus, the promise that the worst thing is never the last, holds onto us, keeps us “firm and secure.” Hope is the certainty that what God has promised he will do. God can be relied upon; we know that in the deepest part of our soul. We have seen it time and again. What he has promised he will bring to fulfillment (cf. Morris 104).

And that, then, explains how we can hold this hope “unswervingly.” No matter what storms come against us, we can stay steady. A few weeks ago, we were up north visiting my in-laws, and my mother-in-law took us for a ride in her wooden boat. Lake Wawasee is the largest natural lake in Indiana, and to me, not having grown up on the water, one part of the lake looks just like any other part. I would easily get lost on my own, but I realized that’s because I’m focused on the water all around me. Sandy, my mother-in-law, instead focuses on the shore, on the goal. She’s spent a lot of time on the lake and knows it well. And because of that, she knows where to fix her gaze. She watches a fixed point, the destination, and she unswervingly moves in that direction in order to get us where we need to go. Where we choose to focus is everything. We need to fix our gaze on Jesus and the resurrection hope he came to bring. Then we move unswervingly toward him—and that brings us to the second question from this passage: to what or whom am I committed? What have I set my gaze on unswervingly? To what or whom am I committed?

All right, let’s move then to the third challenge in this passage, the one brings the other two together. It’s found in verse 24: “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” Here’s another of those “one anothers” that we talked about a couple of weeks ago. Spur one another on. You know what a spur does, right? It’s that piece of metal people wear on their boots that you poke into a horse’s side to get the horse to move or move faster. Spur one another; poke one another. Some translations say, “provoke one another” (KJV, CSB) or “stimulate one another” (NASB). In other words: irritate one another.

Now, this is not just irritating each other for the sake of irritation, though some of us are good at that, too. No, we provoke each other in ways that lead to love and to good deeds. The word there for “love” is agape, which is the characteristic New Testament word for self-sacrificing, God-like love. It’s love with “no strings attached,” love that thinks of others before self. It’s love that is best represented by the cross of Jesus Christ, love that Jesus himself described this way: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). The greatest agape is to give yourself for someone else, and the writer of Hebrews expects us to prod one another along toward that kind of love. Agape is what Jesus talks about when he says, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). Denying ourselves is not something we do naturally; it’s something we can only do as Jesus works in us. And loving someone with agape love is not something we can do alone. Paul once said that at the end, only three things remain: faith, hope and love. Faith and hope we can do on our own, but love requires other people. We can’t do agape by ourselves. We need each other to become fully the people Christ wants us to be (cf. Morris 105).

So we provoke each other toward agape, and we prod each other toward good deeds. When we realize what Jesus has done for us, it ought to cause us to want to do good for others. We don’t do such things to earn salvation; if that’s the purpose, then we’re already lost because we can’t possibly do enough. But the good deeds the author is talking about are a response to God’s love toward us and for us. Because Jesus has loved us, we love others by taking food to the food pantry at 14th and Chestnut, by providing a way out for those who struggle with addiction, by singing at a nursing home and visiting with those who are lonely, by walking alongside those with special needs, or by offering a kind word to someone who is desperate for encouragement. Some folks are a desert when it comes to encouragement. John Trent tells about a young father whose daughter was struggling through what are affectionately known as the “terrible twos.” My experience is that such a period begins before two and lasts long after, but anyway, this little girl was really testing her parents, so her father decided to take her out for breakfast, just the two of them. And when they were sitting at the restaurant, over their pancakes, the father told his daughter how much she was loved and how special she was to her mom and dad. “We prayed for you for years,” he said, “and now that you’re here, we couldn’t be more proud of you.” As he finished, his daughter reached out to him and said, “Daddy…longer.” So he continued to affirm her and offer her encouragement, and every time he stopped, she begged him to keep going. The father never did get to eat that morning, his pancakes got cold, but his daughter received nourishment from him that she wasn’t getting elsewhere. A few days later, back at home, she ran up to her mother, hugged her and said, “I’m a really special daughter, Mommy. Daddy told me so” (Lucado, How Happiness Happens, pg. 24). “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (10:24).

But, as I mentioned, that “one another” means we have to be together. You can’t provoke yourself. You can’t practice agape by yourself. It takes a community, which is why the author moves on to the other part of this challenge: “not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (10:25). We need each other, which is why one of the things we ask of those who are part of Mount Pleasant is presence. Showing up. Being here. Making being part of the church family, a visible part of the family, a priority. We need you and you need us. We need each other. So the question that comes from this challenge is this: with whom will I walk?

When people find out I’m a pastor, I will sometimes get a lecture about how awful the church is, or how they dislike “organized religion” (to which I want to say, “Well, then, you should try disorganized religion and see if it’s any better”), or, more often, how they can be a Christian without the church. And while you can certainly have an intellectual or maybe even a heart belief in Jesus, I’m not sure you can be a Christian without the church. We are called to community. We need each other. The word Hebrews uses for “give up meeting together” is the same word Jesus uses on the cross when he says, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46; Guthrie, NIV Application Commentary: Hebrews, pg. 345). It’s a stronger word than, “I decided to skip worship service today.” Doing that may seem like a small thing to us, but to those early believers, it was the first step toward forsaking (abandoning) your faith family. Neglecting your brothers and sisters in the church is a serious matter, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a pastor. Honestly, there have been a lot of times in the past few years where I just wanted to give up on the church—big “C” church, not the local church—altogether. There are times we—big “C” church—seem to get it more wrong than right. But I know church community is vital to us as believers because that’s what the Scripture says. That’s what our forefathers in the faith believed. That’s what keep them persevering through all sorts of difficulty in the early years. Community is what gives us strength today still. So, again, the question: with whom will I walk?

So, here are the three questions this passage poses: For what or whom am I yearning? To what or whom am I committed? And with whom will I walk? We need answers to those questions, not only as individuals but as a community of faith if we’re going to remain unswerving in a challenging world. And we find answers to those questions as we show up, as we participate in the community of faith God has given us. “Participate” is a key word there. Being part of a church is about more than just having a seat in the pew or your name on the membership roll. It’s also not about being “fed.” I hear that language so often. I know today people go from church to church looking for a place where they could be “fed,” but that’s not Biblical. You do know who it is who needs to be fed, right? Babies need to be fed. As we grow, we feed ourselves from the food that is provided. Pastor Rick and John and Jess and Ginger and me—our job is to set the table, to provide the nourishment, but it’s not our job to force feed anyone. It’s also true that when we gather here, our primary goal is not to nourish ourselves. We gather to worship God, to put our own preferences and even our own needs aside and focus on him. The music, the Scripture, the offering, even the message—all of that has one primary purpose: to honor and glorify God. This time on Sunday morning is a worship service, and it should be primarily focused on the God who loves us with everlasting love.

But that’s not all a community is about. There is a place for growing and learning; we call it Sunday School or LifeGroups or other small groups. That’s also where we find people who care about us, who love us better than we’re able to on Sunday mornings, people who will pray for us and lift us up and walk with us through the difficult days as well as the good days. When I hear the question, “With whom will I walk,” I think of my LifeGroup, and I think of a few other close friends throughout the years who have always been there for us. I was thinking the other day about our years at Asbury, and how when we had moved far away from home and family, God provided two other couples during those years who became close friends. We did so many things together, including suffering through Dr. Wang’s Greek class and Dr. Layman’s super-dry leadership class. We cooked out, we played cards, we watched “Star Trek” and we did life together. And though we don’t see each other very much these days, when we do, that sense of community still exists because what binds us together is Jesus. I find the same thing in our current LifeGroup. Because it’s been summer, we haven’t been able to meet together much, and I’ve missed that. But I know I could call any of those folks if I have a need and they would be there for me—and vice versa. Community is vital; in fact, in the Biblical world, faith wasn’t an individual thing. Faith and identity were and are only found in community, in belonging to one another. That’s still true today, even in our individualistic culture. We need each other.

So, last Monday at staff meeting (another community I’m proud to be a part of), I was being given a rather hard time about the t-shirts we sold in preparation for this sermon series. I won’t say who gave me a hard time, but they are here today. Maybe sitting on the front row. Anyway, among other things, the question came up as to why we love our church, and I said, “Well, that’s the point of the sermon series. We’re going to discover why we love the church and why we love this church.” So then it was said, “What if we go out to lunch today wearing our shirts and someone asks why we love our church? Do we tell them they have to wait until we finish the whole six weeks?” I suppose you could do that, but each week, we’re going to give you something you could share with that person at lunch who wants to know why you love your church, and the word for this week, which should be obvious by now, is community. I love my church because of the community it provides, because of the way I am loved, and because of the way I get to love others. The church reminds me that I need you, and you need me. We are called together, bound together in community. God has called you and me here for such a time as this. We’re called together because together we can accomplish the mission God has set before us.

So…for what or whom am I yearning? I yearn to know Jesus better. And how will I do that? By being unswervingly committed to this body of people who believe in him. I see Jesus in you and I hope you see Jesus in me. And with whom will I walk? I will walk with you; together we will draw near to God and change the world. That’s one reason I love the church. That’s one reason I love this church. Let’s pray.