On God’s Terms

Mark 13:24-37

December 1, 2024 • Mount Pleasant UMC

To misquote Mark Twain: “The reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.” But not by much. Twain apparently didn’t actually say that, but I certainly have in the last couple of weeks. That phrase and the first line of the song “Miracle Child” by Brandon Lake kept going through my head during my time in the hospital: “I shouldn’t be alive…” Yes, I have played the “what if” game many times in the last two weeks, but mostly I’ve tried to be thankful even in the midst of aches and hurts because it could have been so much worse. I don’t want to rehash the details this morning except to say that I am very thankful for all the cards, notes, texts, meals, calls and well-wishes even though I couldn’t begin to answer all of them. I am getting better; I’m not there yet, but I am thankful today for another start.

And today is an appropriate time for a new start because Advent signals the beginning of the Christian New Year. Our year does not start on January 1; it begins today, as we set aside four weeks to prepare for the arrival of Jesus. Most if not all of us have already been thinking about Christmas, partly because Walmart has had their decorations up for weeks now. But especially after Thanksgiving we begin to focus on all the traditions and the decorations and the gifts and the parties and all the things we have to do between now and December 25. We look forward to cherished traditions, time-honored religious celebrations and tasty meals (cf. Willimon, Heaven and Earth, pg. 4). And of course the Hallmark movies that have been on since July. As the song says, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” But despite all of our beautiful decorations (thank you to Gabi Pruitt and her team) and our religious celebrations, I’ve got bad news for you. Advent is not about any of that. Advent isn’t about carols or garland or trees or even manger scenes. Advent, friends, is about Jesus. Into our broken and messed-up world, Advent comes along and proclaims this unsettling truth: God is on the way! And the reason that truth is unsettling is that we want God on our terms and he insists on coming on his terms (cf. Willimon 5). Bishop Will Willimon puts it this way: “We wanted God quietly and gently to slip in beside us, not kick in the door, blow the house down, tear up our temples, ad shake us up” (5). The prophet Amos said much the same thing to the people of his day who said they were anxious for God to come. “Why do you want the day of the Lord?” he asks. “It will be darkness, not light” (cf. Amos 5:18). Bishop Willimon says, “Be careful what you pray for” (5).

That’s why we have this strange text before us this morning. Advent traditionally begins by focusing not on the first arrival of Jesus, but on his second, the one we haven’t experienced yet. It’s a reminder that, just as Jesus came the first time in an unexpected way, when he returns it will be just as unexpected. No matter how many people publish books claiming to know how and when and where he will come, Jesus says he will come on his own terms and not ours.

Mark 13 begins with admiration of the Temple. From all indications, the Temple was a beautiful building, and I’ve seen some of the stones that remain from its foundation. They are enormous, so I get it why the disciples are impressed. They say to Jesus, “Look what a great Temple we have, Jesus! We have every reason to be proud!” But Jesus isn’t having it. He tells them, “Do you see all these great buildings? Not one stone will be left on another; every one will be thrown down” (13:2). To the disciples, for whom the Temple was the center of their faith, this sounds like an unimaginable tragedy, the end of the world (Card, Mark: The Gospel of Passion, pg. 158). And so they ask Jesus two questions, which (though I don’t know they intended it this way) Jesus interprets as referring to two different things. They ask: “When will these things happen? And what will be the sign that they are all about to be fulfilled?” (13:4).

To answer the first question, Jesus talks about the coming destruction of the Temple and, actually, of the whole Jewish state. That happened in the year 70 AD when Rome finally conquered the city and literally threw every stone down. Some of those stones are still laying in the valley where they fell almost two thousand years ago. But the second question, as least for Jesus, takes his thoughts to a different time and a different event. His language becomes apocalyptic, which is a big fancy word that means he’s using exaggerated images and fantastic situations, not to give a timeline but rather to teach truth and give direction. Jesus isn’t really interested in specifically answering the disciples’ question about “when.” He’s more interested in helping them live “whenever” and “until then.” It’s not about knowing the answers; it’s about living in obedience, which is something we often miss. For my whole life people have been writing books that predict the timing of the end. People have developed elaborate charts and graphs, even setting exact dates and revising them when those dates pass. We treat Jesus’ words like some kind of horoscope (cf. Wright, Mark for Everyone, pg. 187), contenting ourselves with supposed knowledge. We think we know things. And then we rest in our “secure knowledge” because, after all, Church is where you nail things down. Church is where things are certain.

Until Jesus shows up. Because, friends, Jesus says even he doesn’t know when these things will happen (cf. 13:32). Only the Father knows. How is that possible, that God the Father knows something God the Son doesn’t? I don’t know, but since Jesus says that’s how it is, I’ll have to trust that is how it is. My bigger question for decades has been this: why do we think we can figure out something Jesus himself says he doesn’t know? It’s nonsense.

Well, we say, but Jesus told us, in this very passage, to “watch.” He says, “Keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back…What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’” (13:35, 37). It’s so urgent he says it three times in five verses (cf. Card 162). He really wants us to get this. But he’s not saying, “Figure out the signs, such as they are.” The word “watch” there is a warning to both the first century church and every age since. It’s a warning to “be on guard, be alert” (13:33) because there are constant forces that pull at us, that try to make us be less than who Jesus wants us to be. Mark is writing this to a group of Christians in Rome who have endured the burning of the city by Emperor Nero for which Christians were blamed (cf. Card 22-24). The danger when times get tough like that—or, dare I say, like now—is to compromise, to settle down, to go along to get along, to choose the least objectionable route rather than the holy one. The danger for these Roman Christians is that they will assimilate either back into the Jewish world or into the pagan world and give up their unique identity as followers of Jesus. Don’t we face the same danger? And, actually, haven’t Jesus’ people in every age faced that danger? Jesus isn’t saying, “Watch the headlines.” He’s saying, “Watch your life.” Remain obedient to me; that’s the point of the short little parable here at the end of the chapter (cf. 13:34). A man leaves and puts his servants in charge, expecting them to keep doing what he has told them to do until he returns, no matter how long it takes. It’s the same with us; we are the servants and Jesus expects us to watch our lives, wait for him and do what he has told us to do.

So here’s the point of Advent, in case you happen to miss the next three weeks: God is on the way and he is coming in the person of Jesus. But he is not going to show up in the way we expect him to, and that’s true whether we are talking about his first coming or his second. I remember Dr. David Thompson at Asbury Seminary one day spending a whole class period explaining a complicated Old Testament passage, giving us his interpretation and understanding and what he thought it meant God was going to do. And then, just as the bell rang, Dr. Thompson said, “But if God wants to do it another way, I’m good with that too.” I’m sure God was very relieved. But I think Dr. Thompson’s point was the same as what this passage makes: God is on the way but he will show up on his own terms and not ours. How much time do we waste trying to figure it all out when all he wants is for us to trust and obey and follow?

Dr. Fred Craddock used to tell a story about a young preacher in his first church who made a reluctant visit to a church member who was dying. She was in her last days, and as he walked in he could hear her gasping for breath. They talked briefly, but he didn’t want to wear her out with a long visit so he asked, “How about we have prayer? What would you like me to pray for?” The dear saint gasped out with difficulty, “That I’ll be healed, of course.” And so the pastor bowed his head, took her hand, and prayed something that, honestly, sounds very familiar: “Lord, if it is your will, we ask that you would heal this dear sister. Deliver her from her illness and pain. But if it is not your will, we pray that you would be with her, that you would help her accept her situation however this turns out. Amen.” I’ve prayed like that; I bet you have, too, because we don’t want to make God look bad. Why pray for healing when the doctors have already spoken, right? And what if we ask for healing and God doesn’t heal? We say we believe in healing, but do we? Really? In this case, as soon as the “Amen” was said, the woman’s eyes opened, and she lifted her head. Then she sat up and threw her feet over the edge of the bed, saying, “I think I’m healed!” She paused a moment and then said, “Yes, I feel strong. I’m healed!” She ran down to the nurses’ station, calling out, “I’m healed!” The pastor left the room and walked out of the hospital in silence. It wasn’t until he got back to his car that he stopped. With his hand on the door handle, he looked up to heaven and said, “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” (Willimon 21). Because we like to be in control. Because we think we know the outcomes. Because we think knowledge will save us. But, friends, God is on the way, and he’s not coming the way we think he will. The first time, he came as a baby in a manger. The second time, he’s coming as the reigning Lord of the universe. He’s coming on his own terms. So keep watch over your life! Follow him!

As you have and will hear in the candle lightings, each week in Advent has a specific word tied to it, and the word for this first Sunday in Advent is “hope.” It’s a fitting place to start. Hope for new beginnings. Hope for renewed relationships. Hope for Christ to come again and make everything right. Hope is what keeps us going and hope is what prods us forward. And it is hope that keeps us watching, expectant, waiting for Jesus to return so that we can be with him. Hope. But our hope is not a pie-in-the-sky, ungrounded thing. Our hope is not without reason and does not show up without being tested. Paul told the Romans where hope comes from: “We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame…” (Romans 5:4-5). That’s what these Christians in Rome that Mark was writing to were going through. They were suffering, some even being killed in horrendous ways, because of Nero’s false accusations. But for the community, if they kept their eyes on Jesus and watched him, he would give them the strength they needed, the perseverance, which would in turn develop their character and as they saw him working in their lives, they would have unshakeable hope. The same is true for us. No matter how hard it gets, when we continue to watch for Jesus’ presence in each and every day, when we focus on him rather than on ourselves or the troubles around us, we will find hope that does not fade or disappoint. One my favorite authors, James Bryan Smith, puts it this way: “I live in the unshakeable kingdom of God. The kingdom is not in trouble, and neither am I.” That’s the kind of hope which says the worst thing is never the last thing, because the “last thing” will be Christ’s return and the coming of his kingdom.

This meal, this sacrament that we are going to share together in just a few moments is a promise, a foretaste of the meal we will share with Jesus when he comes. In fact, while he was sharing what we call holy communion with his disciples, he said he would not taste it again until we are all together in the kingdom (cf. Matthew 26:29). So when we share it together in this place, we are not only remembering what he did for us on the cross, we are also anticipating and hoping for Jesus to return. As we come to the table this morning, watch, stay alert, be expectant that you just might experience Jesus’ presence here and now. He comes on his own terms and he will shake your world up, whether you are ready for him to or not. Christ has come and will come again, maybe when you least expect it (cf. Willimon 33-35).

Let’s prepare our hearts for holy communion.