Corinth Reformed Church
150 Sixteenth Avenue NW
Hickory, North Carolina 28601

Robert M. Thompson, Pastor
March 22, 2009
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Surprises

I'm not a big fan of surprises. One of the dark moments of my life as a father was during a snow storm in the late 90s. That was back in the day when Hickory used to get real snow once or twice a year.

We had built a small sled ramp in the back yard, and were playing with the kids. I was on top of the mound getting ready to take my turn. One of my kids, I can't remember who but wouldn't want to single one of them out anyway, pulled me backwards. It was all in the spirit of fun, but that day I was childish. I was angry enough to go back in the house and leave Linda to pick up the pieces with disappointed children.

So when I say, "I don't like surprises," I'm not bragging. Sometimes I wish I were a little more spontaneous.

It does affect my faith. I am grateful that God has so ordered the world that certain events are predictable -- sunrises and sunsets, tides and phases of the moon, the passing of minutes, hours, and years. But there are times when I'm inclined to tell God that a little more certainty and a little less spontaneity would be an improvement -- when people die, for example, or when Jesus will return.

It was not a particularly welcome surprise to me this week to learn that I would be preaching on this text. We skipped a lot of territory in Luke's gospel from last week to this, and I have no one to blame but myself, since I laid it out. We passed over Jesus' journey to Jerusalem, the triumphal entry, and the first day or two of Holy Week. Now we're only two days from the Upper Room and Jesus is engaging his disciples about Last Things. I wasn't ready.

Someone else I talked to this week wasn't ready for this text either -- for a different reason. He said this passage didn't sound to his ears a lot like Jesus. This sounds more like the book of Revelation.

Jesus is supposed to talk about loving your enemies and lost sheep and parables about soils and seed -- stuff like that. It's a bit of a jolt to hear Jesus doing the doomsday thing. It's an unwelcome surprise.

But that's what Jesus does, you know. As soon as we think we have him figured out, he throws us a curve. Jesus never promised no surprises. Quite the opposite. Let's take a look at this text, because Jesus gives us three significant messages that are as relevant today as they were when he first uttered them.

Be careful about what you admire (5-6)

In order to appreciate the conversation in Luke 21, you need to understand the setting. Jerusalem was the New York City of first century Palestine. The city saw itself as the center of the world.

When Jesus and his disciples found themselves in Jerusalem on that Tuesday before he died on Friday, it probably wasn't the first trip for any of them. Still, they were basically country boys, tourists, mouths gaping at the sights. Think Jed Clampett in Los Angeles. The speed of life, the importance of activities, the appearance of celebrities, the enormity of structures -- all this grabbed the attention of the wide-eyed farmers and fishermen.

The central architectural feature of the city was the temple. It wasn't just a temple -- it was a massive temple complex. King Herod, who prided himself on his architectural accomplishments, had run into considerable opposition when he first proposed replacing the 500-year-old temple built by Zerubbabel when the Jewish exiles returned from Babylon.

But Herod found ways to appease the Jews. He retained the original structure, with a series of barriers allowing Gentiles to go only so far, then women, then ordinary men, then priests. He rebuilt the temple with many of the same stones from its predecessor structure. He trained 1,000 priests as stonemasons so the rocks in the temple itself would only be touched by holy hands. And he gave the temple even greater prominence by enlarging its footprint significantly.

What he created was one of the largest sacred spaces in antiquity -- a rock structure covering 35 acres, or 24 football fields. By comparison, the Acropolis in Athens was one-third the size. To accomplish this, he used massive pieces of rock. A typical row of stones was four feet high, but one row measured almost twelve feet in height. The largest rock is estimated to have weighed 370 tons. Today's largest cranes can lift only 250 tons, so imagine what ingenuity it took to set that rock in place two millennia ago.

Herod began the work in about 20 B.C. It took only about eighteen months to rebuild the temple itself, but another ten years to create the massive rock footprint. Work continued on the project after Herod died, and all the additional buildings and adornment was not completed until A.D. 63. So it was ongoing while Jesus walked the earth.

That bit of background helps explain how our Scripture text opens. The disciples have undoubtedly seen this structure from afar as they approached Jerusalem. Now they stand next to it and have similar feelings of awe that you or I might have on an occasional visit to New York City: "This is incredible! It's big. It's amazing!"

Their specific remark was, "What beautiful stones!" "What a great gift to God!" (v. 5)

Jesus' reply stunned them, for more than one reason. He answered in verse 6, "The time will come when not one stone will be left on another; every one of them will be thrown down."

About forty years after Jesus spoke these words, the 9-11 of the first century happened. All of us remember our sense of horror when hijacked airplanes brought down the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Who would ever have thought those structures would crumble?

In A.D. 70, responding to a Jewish rebellion against Rome, the imperial army led by Titus besieged Jerusalem for years, causing a famine that reduced the population to cannibalism. The Jewish historian Josephus said that more than a million people died and almost a hundred thousand were taken into captivity. During their siege the Roman armies literally disassembled the glorious temple rock by rock.

So Jesus' first message is, "Be careful about what you admire." That which seems permanent, that which evokes awe, that which captures the imagination is rarely worthy of your trust or praise.

Be humble about what you predict (7-11)

Jesus' disciples do not challenge this dramatic prediction. That is surprising in itself. They don't say, "You've got to be kidding! All this is going to crumble?"

Instead, they ask another question that human curiosity often asks -- especially those of us who don't like surprises: "When?" Their wording in verse 7 is, "When will these things happen? And what will be the sign that they are about to take place?"

Once again, Jesus' answer takes them in a direction they didn't expect. They seem to assume that Jesus is talking about the end of the age. After all, what else could cause the massive rock structure to fall apart?

Jesus doesn't correct them, even though the temple catastrophe and the end of the age are a minimum of 2,000 or so years apart.

What his words do convey is a message that still needs to be heard in the Christian church: "Be humble about what you predict." Across the years and even in our own time, there are individuals passionate and confident about how the end times will unfold. A few are specific even about the date -- no one so far has been right on that score. Countless others have been quite sure that the time is close or exactly how the events will unfold. Their basis is a careful study of Scripture.

I have no desire to quibble with them, for two reasons. First, in advance of the events, I can't say for sure they're wrong. And second, the end result of any sense that the Lord is coming soon is exactly where every believer should live -- in a state of being always ready. You never know when he's coming -- for all or just for you.

So what Jesus does here is, in my view, to intentionally blur the future. He knows that the temple destruction will not be the end of the age, but they don't need to know that. They stand, as the prophets before them stood and we still stand, looking into the distance as if standing at the edge of the foothills of a large mountain range. It feels as if you're looking at the tallest peak. But as soon as you climb that one, you realize there are other valleys and peaks ahead.

We are not supposed to know how and when everything will unfold. What we do need is some humility. So Jesus warns his disciples, "Watch out that you are not deceived" (v. 8). He goes on to warn that Messiah figures will emerge, but they're counterfeit. Wars and revolutions will come, but they are not to be feared. Earthquakes, famines, and plagues will appear -- but they happen all through the ages.

Be humble about what you predict. It is egotistical to think of ourselves as constantly on the hinge of history. Time doesn't revolve around you. You're not the Great One and neither is necessarily your age. Let God do his climactic work in his time.

But don't let that lead you to complacency. That's the third message in this passage.

Be intentional about what you fear (12-19)

Jesus returns to a message that is directed toward the disciples during their own lifetime. He warns them that they themselves will be persecuted (12). Human powers, spiritual and political, will be allied against them (13), because of Jesus' name. Later in the paragraph he warns them that even those they thought they could trust -- family and friends -- would betray them to death (16).

This was the experience of these twelve. The shields in the stained glass window behind me represent what happened to them. There's an X-shaped cross for Andrew, because that's how he died. Bartholomew's shield has flaying knives, because he was skinned alive. Matthias is remembered by a battle axe, because he was decapitated. James has a saw, because he was cut in two.

Did you catch the irony in what Jesus said? "You will be put to death" (v. 16). "But not a hair of your head will perish" (v. 18). He tells them to be witnesses to him (v. 13) and to stand firm (v. 19).

The overall message is to be intentional about what you fear. Don't fear wars (v. 9). Don't fear death (vv. 16-19). Don't fear standing in front of others to defend your faith (v. 14).

What do you fear? Jesus' message is to choose your fears. In 1973, the London Times printed the results of a survey taken on what humans fear the most. Number one on the list? Public speaking. Hey, folks, it's really not that bad. But twice as many people said they fear public speaking as those who fear death.

That prompted the following comment by comedian Jerry Seinfeld a few years ago: "According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy."

What do you fear? Many people include among their fears a fear of heights, of bugs and snakes, of bridges and tunnels, of closed spaces. These fears are related to a sense of danger, uncertainty, or loss of control.

In these times, many people fear not having a job, or enough money to meet basics needs. Others fear the loss of relationship in a world where commitment is harder to come by. That's the fear of being alone.

Jesus was directly addressing common fears when he spoke to his disciples: death, grief, rejection, even public speaking.

I don't have any desire to turn this into a pop psychology sermon. I'm not qualified, for one thing. And my role is to preach Scripture, not therapy.

But what, exactly, does Jesus teach us about our fears? First, to name them. Modern psychology has all sorts of names for our fears, from glossophobia (public speaking) to SAD (social anxiety disorder). We have learned that step one toward overcoming anxiety is putting a label on our fears. Jesus taught us that a long time ago.

Second, Jesus teaches us to deal with our fears by letting them play out in our minds. Go ahead -- let the scenario play itself all the way out. You do have to speak. You are alone. Nobody likes you. You die. In each case, Jesus says, if the worst happens, I'll be with you. And there's life on the other side.

This is true of so many fears. What do you fear? Losing a job? Getting a bad diagnosis? Losing a friend? Getting caught doing something wrong? Whatever it is, it's not as bad as you fear.

As a trivial example, I was finishing this sermon last night while watching the NCAA tournament, with my favorite team battling a close game that should have won easily. It's easy to become anxious until you ask yourself, "What's the worst that can happen here?" We lose. But it's just a game. The sun will still come up tomorrow.

What Jesus wants us to realize is that life itself is a game. The worst that can happen down here can't take from us true life, eternal life, life in his presence. The only fear I should choose is missing heaven.

The Great Unknown

So let's talk about that. Most of us spend most of our lives attempting to deny or delay death. It is the Great Fear because it is the Great Unknown.

We begin Lent each year with a service that is designed to remind us of our mortality. "You are dust, and to dust you will return," the pastor says, while applying ashes to the forehead during the Ash Wednesday service. It's a way of saying, "You are going to die."

Maybe we need that more often. Longer life is one of those desires that is never satisfied. No matter how long we live, or those we love live, we want more. The only exception is where there is suffering. For all of its agony, what suffering does is put death in perspective. It's a release from this life to something better.

You are going to die. Maybe it will be in the chaos leading up to the end of the age. Maybe it will be from a catastrophe, like the fall of Jerusalem in A.D. 70 or the terrorist attacks of 9-11. Or maybe you won't die in a group -- it will be just you, facing cancer or an accident or just old age. Maybe you'll get warning, or maybe it will be sudden.

Are you ready? One reason Jesus came into our world is to remove some of the mystery and all of the fear. He's been to the other side and come back. Being ready means no more and no less than simply embracing him as the way to life eternal.

It's not about my daily performance. It's not about my religious habits. It's not about my religion at all, if religion just means my rituals and efforts. It is about Jesus, who died for my sins and rose again to show there is life on the other side, and he's the one who makes it possible. When you turn from a life centered on you, and choose him, you're not afraid of death. You are always ready. Amen.

Copyright 2009 by Robert M. Thompson, Pastor. Unless otherwise indicated, Scriptures quoted are from The Holy Bible, New International Version, Copyright 1978 by New York International Bible Society.