You Can't Serve God

Joshua 24:14-28

November 1, 2020 • Mount Pleasant UMC

You may have heard—there’s an election coming up this week. I realize you might have missed that news, what with a pandemic and economic challenges and all the rest of the stuff that’s occupied our attention the past several months, but it is true. This week is the presidential election. Depending on who you listen to, the decision is either a foregone conclusion or the most important decision you’ll ever make. Now, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. I don't know who will win the race. I don't know if we’ll even know who won the race by this time next week. I don’t know what the next four years will hold, or the next four months for that matter! Lots of things I don’t know, and only one thing I do know. That is this: no matter who sits in the White House, God is still on the throne, Jesus is still Lord, and the world still belongs to him. Nothing that’s put in any ballot box on Tuesday is going to change that. I’m not saying you shouldn’t vote; just the opposite. If you haven’t already cast your ballot, I believe it is our Christian duty, as faithful citizens in this country, to exercise our right to vote. I also believe it is our duty and responsibility to treat those on “the other side” with respect, dignity and kindness because they, too, are children of God. We should be good citizens and vote, but as Christians, we are primarily citizens of another kingdom. As followers of Jesus Christ, our primary loyalty does not belong to any earthly kingdom, nation, politician or government. Our primary loyalty belongs to God and God alone. When we forget that or get our loyalties confused, we’re in dangerous territory, not the promised land.

And so we come to the end of the book of Joshua. Over the last four weeks, you’ve been reading about this group of twelve tribes, collectively held together by the name, Israel, but not yet a nation, and they’ve conquered the land promised to them by God centuries before. You would think that, after all they have been through, there would be no question as to what spiritual force would have their allegiance. Granted, most of these folks were not yet alive when they escaped Egypt and crossed the Red Sea, but you know they’ve heard the stories from their parents and grandparents. And they have seen God fight the battles for them as they conquered the promised land; there’s no way this bunch of desert dwellers could have conquered walled cities and organized armies if God had not been on their side. They’ve seen all of this; they’ve lived through it all. And now the time has come to settle down, to move from being wanderers to the more settled business of kingdom building. Joshua, however, knows his time is up. His calling was for this time, for the conquering of the land. He is an old man now, a hundred and ten years old (24:29), but he wants to set the nation on the right course, so he calls them all together as Shechem (24:1), where he has one last message for them.

Shechem is important, and Joshua did not choose the location randomly. It wasn’t just “the place with the best restaurants and a conference center.” No, Shechem had historical significance. Centuries before, back in Genesis 35, one of the patriarchs, Jacob, had instructed his family to get rid of their idols, the little statues of the gods they used to worship, and he took them and buried them “under the oak at Shechem” (Genesis 35:4; cf. Hess, Joshua, pg. 309). It had been a place of decision then, a time of turning away from one set of beliefs toward another, and this day, near the end of Joshua’s life, Shechem once again becomes a place of decision. I imagine them gathering near that same oak tree, as Joshua sets before them the choice they must make.

Joshua’s challenge is pretty straightforward, even as it echoes back to that earlier story of Jacob. He tells them, “Throw away the gods your ancestors worshipped” (24:14). Sometimes it’s said that it only took a short time to get Israel out of Egypt, but it took forty years to get Egypt out of Israel. While they lived there as slaves, they had undoubtedly adopted some of the Egyptian pagan customs, even adopted some of their gods, so they had strayed from their people’s earlier dedication to God. It was sort of a “God and” mindset. Sort of, “I can worship God and worship this other little-g god too.” Perhaps they’ve been doing that for forty years or more now. “I’ll worship God on the Sabbath but during the rest of the week I’m going to do what I want to do.” Sound familiar? Joshua knows that’s how most of the people have been living, so he gives them a choice: serve God or serve those other gods. You can’t serve both. You have to give your whole heart to one or the other. And, of course, he gives that famous proclamation that I’m willing to bet at least some of you have on a plaque on your wall: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord” (24:15).

The people say they want to serve the Lord, too, and that’s when Joshua says something rather shocking. He tells them, “You are not able to serve the Lord” (24:19). Now, some of the commentaries I read this week say that Joshua is employing reverse psychology; he’s trying to trick them into responding the way he wants them to. Or others say he’s trying to make sure their commitment is real. But Joshua has some pretty definite ideas about why these people can’t serve God, or maybe it might be better to say it this way: he tells them they will fail if they try to serve God. They can’t measure up to who God is because God is holy, God is jealous and—God will not forgive you. If what he said at first was shocking, this is worse. An unforgiving God? That doesn't seem consistent with what we know of God. So what is going on here? What is Joshua trying to say about the God he has sworn to follow?

First of all, God is holy (24:19). We toss that word around a lot today, usually without thinking about what it really means. This is the only time in the book of Joshua God is described in this way, though it does show up in other chapters referring to ground or even to the plunder the people take from a conquered city. It doesn’t so much refer to a certain type of morality or ethical choice as it does being set apart, special, extraordinary. God is holy; he is different from you, he is “other.” God is someone you should’t mess with, so if you’re going to decide to follow him, you’d better make sure you don’t do it halfway. He is holy, and he is jealous. That’s a somewhat unfortunate translation, because the original word is much broader. It’s closer to “passionate.” God feels things deeply, and certainly jealousy is part of that but it’s only part. If you decide to follow God and then you are unfaithful, God can’t just dismiss that with a shrug of his shoulders. It’s sort of like this: every person in the world and throughout history who chooses to become unfaithful or to outright rebel against God is a burden for him to carry. The burden weighs him down. Our unfaithfulness wounds God; it hurts him. He feels things deeply; he is passionate and, in the words of a song you probably remember, he is jealous for you (cf. Goldingay, Joshua, Judges & Ruth for Everyone, pg. 87).

And, thirdly, he will not forgive. If the people are not disturbed yet, they certainly are by this statement. What Joshua says next is “perhaps the most shocking statement in the Old Testament” (Hess 306). Listen to the whole thing again: “He will not forgive your rebellion and your sins. If you forsake the Lord and serve foreign gods, he will turn and bring disaster on you and make an end of you, after he has been good to you” (24:19-20). Now, this is one of those verses you can’t yank out of context. It’s a reminder of why it’s important to read everything in light of the whole of Scripture, not just a verse or two here and there. Can you imagine what sort of religion someone might make out of just these two verses? Yes, you can, because some people have. It’s called legalism or judgmentalism. It’s the sort of faith where you can never be good enough and never be accepted. The whole of Scripture witnesses to the fact that God is forgiving and kind and grace-giving. So what Joshua is saying here is hyperbole, exaggerated. He’s trying to make a point, sort of along the lines of when Jesus tells you that if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out (cf. Matthew 5:29). If we took that literally, the whole world would be blind! Joshua is exaggerating in order to emphasize how seriously God takes sin: “He does not deal superficially with sin” (Madvig, “Joshua,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 3, pg. 369). God is holy, God is jealous, and God is serious about sin. This is the God you want to follow, Joshua tells the people. Are you sure you really want to make that decision?

The real question here is this: which gods will you serve? To quote Bob Dylan, “You gotta serve somebody,” or maybe more accurately, you’re going to serve someone, you’re going to worship something. It’s built into our DNA. Which gods will you serve? Who will you worship? And just coming here, walking in this building or watching online, doesn’t guarantee we know the answer. Just being baptized or becoming a member of a church doesn’t settle the question. In fact, in some ways, we have to make that choice daily because every day, every moment we are presented with a buffet of gods to worship. We don’t have little wooden idols in our houses (most of the time), but the gods are there nonetheless. Can I meddle some today? Well, I’m going to, just warning you, because this story has been meddling with me all week. So what gods are we most tempted to serve today?

There’s the god of money, wealth. Christian tradition lists “greed” or “avarice” among the seven deadly sins because it eats away at our soul, at our loyalty. Money easily becomes the most important thing in life, the thing for which we will do most anything. It’s easy to see it in other people, isn’t it? We’ll say, “Man, they’ve got a problem.” But how much of our thoughts are consumed with matters around money? Last week, I talked about retirement and the message we get from our culture is that we should hoard what we have, we should always be making sure we have enough “for a rainy day.” But “enough” is never “enough.” Ask people at all different sorts of income levels how much would be enough and the answer is always, “Just a little bit more.” Let’s go back to the question I asked last week: what story do you want to tell your grandchildren? There’s a famous quote (people debate who said it originally): “No one ever dies wishing they had spent more time at work.” Or that they spent more time managing their stock portfolio. Or that they had saved the money instead of going for ice cream with their kids. Money is a god that constantly calls for our attention. It's a god that is not going away and it’s not going to leave us alone. And, by the way, for the next couple of weeks, we’re going to be talking about money and, specifically, generosity. In two weeks, we’ll be asking for your commitment to God’s ministry here at Mount Pleasant for 2021. (So, you’ve been warned!) Who will you serve? What god is your attention focused on?

Today, one of the biggest gods shouting for our attention is the god of technology. It was predicted that in the twenty-first century, the true division between people wouldn’t so much be based on wealth as on who has access to technology and who doesn’t. Knowledge is power, it is said, and we are deluged by information—maybe not knowledge, but at least information. Most of us can’t live without our smartphones or our tablets or our laptops and when the WiFi is slow, Lord help us! If I leave home without my phone, I’ll turn around to go get it. Now, I’m thankful for technology; without it, this pandemic would have been a lot harder to navigate. Or do we just think that because we’re so enslaved to our tech? I don’t know; this is a god that tempts me each and every day. Don’t bother me when Apple is announcing new products! Yes, I may have a problem.

Another god that is rampant in our culture is the god of celebrity. We worship at the altar of famous people just because they are famous. If you don’t think so, consider what we pay actors and athletes compared to what we pay teachers and child care workers. What does that say about what’s important to us? Celebrities use their platform to tell us who to vote for, what we should believe and think, and what sort of clothes we should wear. It’s amazing to me that there is a job called “social media influencer,” people who take to social media to tell us what is important and valuable. And in the church world we are not immune to the god of celebrity. We allow authors and singers and certain pastors whom we don’t even know to have undue influence in our lives. When did we decide that the pastor who preaches to thousands is more important than the one who has been serving the same church for forty years and sits by the deathbed of a loved parishioner? The god of celebrity lurks all around.

And if I haven’t meddled with you enough this morning, let me go one step further. What about the god of politics? This god looms large this time of year, and for some people, it looms large every day of the year. Friendships have been sacrificed because two people disagreed with each other on Facebook, or someone tweeted the wrong thing or they put a sign out in the front yard for the other party. I don’t care how the election turns out on Tuesday. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve got pretty strong political convictions, and I do have a particular way I hope the election goes, and no I’m not going to tell you which way that is, but I respect your freedom to disagree with me. And I know, as I said earlier, that whoever wins in whatever office on Tuesday, come Wednesday morning, God will still be in charge. When we think that the only way the world can change is through elections, or when we place all of our hopes on a particular candidate, when we tie our hopes to a manmade political platform rather than the Word of God, or if we’re tempted to wring our hands over any political issue this season (or any season), we are worshipping at the god of politics. It’s not that those things aren’t important; it’s just that they’re not of ultimate importance and they do not deserve our ultimate allegiance. Let me remind you again (as I have often before) of the words of Chuck Colson: “Salvation is not going to come on Air Force One.” Politics wants to be our god.

“Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve…” (24:15). The god of money, the god of technology, the god of celebrity, the god of politics or one of the innumerable other gods that are out there. Choose for yourself this day whom you will serve. And the people responded with a very forceful, “We will serve the Lord” (24:21; cf. Hess 307), so Joshua sets up a stone pillar (maybe right on top of those buried ancient idols?) and tells them the stone pillar will remind them of their commitment. Every time they look at it, they are reminded that they have decided to serve the Lord. What is the witness stone in your life? What is it that reminds you of your faith and spurs you on to even greater faithfulness? For me, there are several things. In my office, I have the pocket Bible that was given to my grandfather by the Presbyterian Church and Sunday School in Beloit, Kansas in 1917, when he went into the service. In it I have tucked a picture of my grandfather (whom I never met) and my grandmother (who was one of my earliest spiritual influences). It reminds me of a heritage of faithfulness and service to God that has come down to me. I also have a copy of the 1884 Doctrines and Disciplines of the Methodist Episcopal Church that was given to me by my great uncle when I was ordained. It’s a constant reminder that this faith I have grown up in, this faith that has nurtured and shaped me, did not begin with me. There have been generations of faithful pastors and preachers who came before me. I don’t know if a pastor once owned this Book of Discipline, but I wonder if perhaps in some generation down the road, my current Discipline might remind another pastor of the generations before him or her. On the wall in my dining room is the cross that once hung in the sanctuary of the Sedalia Methodist Church, the place where I was baptized and where I started this journey of faith. That cross reminds me that I was claimed by God even before I was aware of him, that he loved me before I loved him. For me, these are all witness stones, things that remind me who I am and whose I am.

And then there is this table, this meal that we take part in every month here. I’ve told you before—one of my favorite things to do as a pastor is to serve communion. The three months during the pandemic when we could not share this sacrament was frustrating for me. Communion has always been important as a reminder of God’s love for me. Even as a kid, kneeling with my parents at the communion rail in the Rossville United Methodist Church, I knew I was included in that love and welcomed at the table. This act of holy communion is a stone of witness, a reminder of this faith we have been given. The bread—his body; the cup—his blood. These symbols stand as witnesses that we have chosen to follow the Lord our God. Every time we gather at the table, I remind you that the table is not restricted. It’s not our table, after all; Pastor Rick and I do not decide who is worthy and who is not. This is Christ’s table and so it is open to all who love Christ or who want to love him. Amazingly, it was open to Judas as much as to Peter. It’s open to you and to me. It’s our witness stone in this place this morning. Choose for yourselves this day, my friends, whom you will serve. And as you come forward today to receive holy communion, I invite you to say with your lips and with your life: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” So be it. Let’s pray.