Is the Lord with us or not? Exodus 17:1-7

This sermon was preached by Leo Hartshorn at Zion Mennonite Church, Hubbard, Oregon on September 25, 2011



May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and Redeemer


I’m a bit surprised and perplexed that I am an interim pastor of this congregation after 9 1/2 years out of pastoral ministry. And even more so, since I have known of this congregation’s struggles over the past two years! You see, I left almost 30 years of pastoral ministry in 2002 with a sense of relief from the toll that leading struggling, and sometimes contentious and conflicted congregations, can take on a pastor. At the same time, I wondered if God was with me in my decision to leave pastoral ministry, since this same God called me onto this wilderness journey in the first place! Was it bad luck (or good luck?) that after seven years with Mennonite Mission Network my department was cut leaving me wandering in the wilderness without a job, disoriented, complaining and again wondering if God was with me or not. Then, I get this call about becoming an interim pastor for Zion Mennonite Church….

So, as I read this lectionary text in preparation for today’s sermon and I couldn’t help but notice that the relationship between Moses and the children of Israel was similar to that of a pastor and a congregation. How’s that, you say? Well, our story starts out with the Israelites being described as…. now get this…. a “congregation.” You’ve got to be kidding me! The Israelites are a “congregation”? Lord, have mercy on the pastor of that congregation. And the next thing it says about this congregation is that they quarreled with their pastor! Uh oh! This is not a good sign for my first sermon back in pastoral ministry at Zion! Or maybe it is.

I’ll have to admit that I identify with Moses in a lot of ways. Moses started out as a pastor, or should I say a shepherd. He tended the sheep of his father-in-law Jethro near Horeb, the mountain of God. The term “pastor” comes from the work of tending sheep, though some people might consider being referred to as sheep as a baaaaaad idea. Shepherding is used throughout the Bible as an image for leading people, like a pastor leads a congregation. Even the pope and his bishops carry with them a crozier, a shepherd’s staff, as a symbol their pastoral office. Ultimately Jesus is our Good Shepherd, even though there are shepherds or pastors who serve congregations through his leadership.

Some would say that Moses was a shepherd as part of his divine preparation for being pastor of a congregation. As a pastor Moses tended the flock of Israelites guiding them along the way, pulling them away from the dangerous places with his shepherd’s crook, feeding them when hungry in green pastures, leading them beside the still waters. Some experienced pastors might say that Moses also learned how to avoid stepping in the sheep “droppings” the flock left along their journey. I can identify with the image of a shepherd as the leader of a congregation.

I can also identify with the fact that Moses, as a pastor, was not perfect. He started life with a mixed up identity as an immigrant from Egypt, out of place, not knowing who he was, not knowing his own people, short tempered, a murderer, a man with a lot of excuses, yet with a passion for justice. Moses was initially reluctant to lead his own people, as I suspect some of you are reluctant to lead at Zion. Maybe there were some cantankerous sheep in Jethro’s flock that Moses would just as soon have turned into lamb chops!

Like many pastors Moses wasn’t good at organization or delegating responsibility. I can identify. Jethro, an experienced sheep herder, had to teach him how to organize the people and delegate tasks to be more efficient.

And Moses was not your eloquent preacher. Honestly, this guy had a problem with public speaking. He even warned God, “Gawd, I is sl-o-o-o-o-w of speech and I, uh…. uh…. I don’t talk too gooder either wise.” Some even suggest that Moses was possibly a stutterer. I mean, he was not your prime candidate for the church pulpit. And what does God say? “You’re just the pastor I want for my people! But…. on second thought, you might want your brother Aaron to preach for you.”

Besides that, Moses had a hard time obeying God’s Word. In another version of our story in the book of Numbers Moses was commanded by God to speak to the rock and water would come forth. Instead, Moses struck the rock twice. Moses was not a perfect pastor. That’s why I can identify with him.

At the same time, I can identify with the congregation of Israel. God promises to bring us to a land flowing with milk and honey and here we are with sand in our teeth, lips cracked and dry without any lip balm or mouthwash. Sheeesh! We could use a little Dasani or Aquafina right about now to wash down that dry-as-toast-bread that came down from the sky the other day. Bread and water, now really, that’s what they serve prisoners in solitary confinement. We were better off in Egypt with our gardens of cucumbers and melons and tomatoes enough to share with other members of the congregation. Get real, Moses! Our congregation was better off before you became our pastor.

Why did you bring us out here in the wilderness, just so we would end up in the bone orchard? Do you even know where we are going, Shepherd of Lostville? Didn’t you check Mapquest or consider bringing along a GPS before you thought about this so-called Freedom from Egypt project you hatched up for our congregation? What kind of leader are you anyhow?

I have to be honest. Who wouldn’t complain in those circumstances? I watched a movie entitled Thirst the other night about 4 young people whose vehicle broke down in the desert. And for over one excruciating hour I watched them die of dehydration and the wolves pick their bones. Hey, I’m with the children of Israel. Moses, get us outta here! The wilderness is no piece of cake….or glass of water. I can identify with the congregation of Israel.

Then again, I can identify with Moses. Sometimes pastors become easy targets for the stones of a congregation. Pastor Moses became an easy target, a fish in a bucket for the frustrations, anxieties, and differences within his own congregation. I’ve been in Moses’ sandals when he said to his congregation, “Why do you quarrel with me? Hey, you were all ‘Yeah, help us Moses, we want you to lead us out of Egypt’ when the whip was stinging your back. If you want to blame someone, blame God for bringing you out here in the wilderness.”

I’ve been in Moses’ Berkenstocks when he cried out to God, possibly pulling his hair at the same time, “What shall I do with this people! They are ready to take me to a Rock concert, and I don’t mean to listen to some hard music.” Get my tune?

I imagine that the complaints that came from the congregation to pastor Moses sounded something like this: “Pastor, some people in the congregation aren’t happy with your leadership. They say that you have led us out into the wilderness to die like a bunch of dogs. And we can’t ignore what people are saying, can we? They might withhold their offerings or threaten to leave.”

In a former congregation where I was pastor I used to refer to these invisible people as the “church ghosts.” These ghosts never spoke for themselves and would never bring their complaints to anyone face-to-face. They slithered around behind the scenes, like sssssnakes in the desert. But, they were always served by “ghost whisperers,” people who translate their ghostly messages and gladly pass along their complaints and objections to the church leaders, who would then pass them on to yours truly. Does Zion have any ghosts haunting these hallowed halls? Any “ghost whisperers” who like to pass on their messages? If it does, Zion needs to exorcise these ghosts, not exercise, in order to be a healthy congregation.

The Hebrew word used to describe the congregation’s complaint against Moses is the same word for “lawsuit.” Lord, have mercy! I am aware that broken pastor-congregation relations are not all that unusual, but this extreme takes the cake! I have heard of congregations that have actually brought lawsuits against their pastors. The children of Israel were ready to try Moses and have him stoned! Let me tell you, pastors can become the scapegoat for a congregation’s problems and anxieties. I’ll name it, if you claim it!

This idea of laying one’s own sins and problems on someone else is reflected in the ritual of the scapegoat or Azazel in the Old Testament. The priest laid the sins of the people on the head of a goat, which was led off into the wilderness bearing their sin. This scapegoat concept is the dynamic at work in the crucifixion of Jesus, who bears the sins of the people, that is, he becomes a victim of the violence, anger, frustrations, and anxieties of the people.

Rene Girard, a literary critic and philosopher, has proposed what is known as a “scapegoat mechanism,” to explain this widespread principle whereby human communities tend to place blame for their own violence, frustrations, divisions, and differences upon a scapegoat.

This dynamic is also known as “projection,” a theory developed by Freud. It is a defense mechanism whereby someone projects their own feelings, problems, and anxieties onto someone else.

Family systems theory also recognizes this phenomenon. When applied to congregations, the anxieties within the church family system are projected onto the pastor. Peter Steinke, an internationally respected therapist and educator in church family systems, even uses our story of the Israelites complaints against Moses to illustrate how a congregation’s anxiety turns into grumbling and division and is projected onto the leader.

Although this congregational dynamic is pervasive, this is not to say congregations never have legitimate issues concerning their pastors. Nor do these dynamics excuse a leader’s own inadequacies and problems. As I said earlier, pastors are not perfect….and neither are congregations. Placing blame for problems, troubles, and conflicts solely on the shoulders of a pastor or a congregation is not healthy.

When we find ourselves wandering in the wilderness and our resources run out, we may wonder if the Lord is with us or not. When the children of Israel were without water they complained about Moses and in so doing …. listen to this…. they “tested the Lord.” The problem was not simply that they had problems with Moses or the lack of water. They had problems with God. Their real problem was that they were testing God by their attitudes and actions.

Whether or not the children of Israel actually verbalized this question, the congregation raised this sour question by their attitudes and actions: “Is the Lord with us or not?”

Again, I can identify with the congregation. If I was dying of thirst, I would raise some thorny questions. Remember, I watched that movie. To be honest, I have raised the question of the Israel not only by attitude and action, but in loud cries to the heavens. When I was forced to resign from my home congregation by some underhanded actions of the leadership and ended up spending 3 years out of pastoral ministry, after 5 years of preparation for ministry and only two years in the congregation, I questioned the heavens: “Is the Lord with me or not?” When leading another congregation through a various divisions and conflicts over 6 years, at some low moments I queried the heavens, “Is the Lord with me or not?” And don’t you know that as I wandered in the wilderness over these past two years in Oregon without a job, starting my retirement, resigned to “the fact” the church ministry was over for me, more than once I asked the question with a bitter taste in my mouth: “Is the Lord with me or not?” I’ll name it and I’ll claim it.

But, during each of these wilderness journeys I had forgotten that eventually and unexpectedly a door opened, manna dropped from heaven, and water spouted from a rock. I can identify with the congregation of Israel who had forgotten that God had led them with a miraculous and mighty hand out of Egypt, had opened the Red Sea to pass through, and rained bread from heaven. Would not God provide water for them to drink? Would not God finally get them to the Promised Land?

Sometimes congregations need to remember from where they came and find a new direction. When we come to these times of trouble and transition, we need to remember that God will provide for us as God has provided for us in the past. Has the Lord been with us or not?

How long has this congregation been around? A couple years? Over a hundred years? Let me turn the question of the children of Israel on its head and ask you: Has the Lord been with us or not? During this long journey hasn’t God provided for our needs? Haven’t we seen the power of God’s hand to deliver at work? Has the Lord been with us or not? Haven’t we wandered in the wilderness? Haven’t you made it through church conflicts and difficult situations with other pastors? Has the Lord been with us or not? Haven’t we tasted the bread of heaven? Hasn’t our thirst for life been quenched with water from unexpected places? Has the Lord been with us or not? Haven’t we been able to find new direction when we lost our way? Haven’t our leaders stepped out before us and we followed them as if God were leading us? Has the Lord been with us or not?

If the Lord has been with us, then our pastors and elders will need to step out ahead of the congregation. The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of people, and take some of the elders with you.” What a timely word for Zion! The pastor and elders of the congregation are to go ahead of the people. Isn’t that what leadership is all about….stepping out ahead of the people, leading them into their future. Their role is not to simply fill an office or support the status quo of things or keep the sheep grazing in one spot or allowing them to get stuck in the heat of conflict and complaints, but rather to “go on ahead of the people.” Show them the way forward. Learn the terrain of the future. Don’t just dwell in the past. That will get you stuck in the wilderness. Lead the congregation forward to Rock of all Ages. Lead the people away from Massah and Meribah, those places literally named “testing” and “quarreling.” Lead the people to the water of life, even Jesus Christ, where they can be refreshed for the journey ahead.


So, as we journey toward our new future, let us be assured that “the Lord is with us!” I’ll name it, if you claim it.

The Lord was with Moses, who was not the perfect pastor, but sought to listen to God and lead the people forward

The Lord was with the children of Israel, who were not a perfect people, even as they were complaining, quarreling, and testing God.

The Lord is with our leaders, pastors and elders, who are not perfect, as they go ahead of the people, leading the way.

The Lord is with this congregation, which is not perfect, yet stands firm on the Rock and drinks from the Water of Life. Amen?


This past week I stood with your former pastor, Todd Lehmann, on the other side of those doors and together we looked at the wall of pictures of your former pastors. Some have stern, serious faces, looking like they were weaned on dill pickle juice. Others with half-smiles or grins, expressing joy, even though some of them weren’t even getting paid! Can you imagine that! Serving God without getting a dime for their time? I don’t think I would have been smiling! Some were better pastors than others, some uneducated farmers, some highly educated ministers, some pastors chosen by lot maybe resenting the fact that they were called to be pastors by what seemed more a “luck of the draw” than God’s call, some leaving their posts before “the fullness of time,” none of them perfect, all too human, like Moses….. And yet…. “The Lord was with them.”

On another day I walked outside to get a breath of fresh air and looked out over rows of tombstones of former members of this congregation…. I imagined you all here united with them in spirit, a communion of saints, a cloud of witnesses together...similar in so many ways, and I don’t mean “dead,” some of them probably better Christians than others, some wishing they were out hunting, fishing, or farming rather than listening to a dry-as-a-cracker sermon, some with hopes and dreams for this congregation, just like you, none of them perfect, all too human, like the children of Israel….and yet….“The Lord was with them.”

Now, here we are, still making our way through the wilderness. Not yet arriving in the Promised Land…sometimes complaining, sometimes quarrelling, sometimes not trusting God with our futures, sometimes faithful, sometimes hopeful, none of us perfect, all too human…and yet…and yet….”The Lord is with us.”


There is more light and truth yet to break forth from God’s Holy Word.

Drumming for Peace at Locust Park, Canby OR

Leo Hartshorn will be performing

Drumming for Peace

Joyful Noise


Saturday, September 24, 2011
between 12:30 and 1 pm

for Bridging Cultures
Locust Park
Canby, Or

Drumming for Peace at Oregon World Relief Festival

Saturday, October 8, 2011

7:30 am - 3:30 pm

Leo Hartshorn will be peforming Drumming for Peace at 2 pm

Linn County Fair & Expo Center
Albany, Oregon

Proceeds benefit



Free Admission
Free Parking

New Interim Pastor at Zion

After two years in semi-retirement and nine years away from the pastorate (seven in denominational work), I will be interim pastor for Zion Mennonite Church in Hubbard, Oregon starting this Sunday, September 11, 2011. A new adventure awaits!

The Healing Pole

*This sermon was originally preached at North Baltimore Mennonite Church, April 3, 2003

From Mount Hor they set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; and the people became impatient on the way. And the people spoke against God and against Moses, "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food." Then the LORD sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died. And the people came to Moses, and said, "We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you; pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us." So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, "Make a fiery serpent, and set it on a pole; and every one who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live." So Moses made a bronze serpent, and set it on a pole; and if a serpent bit any man, he would look at the bronze serpent and live. Numbers 21:4-9

And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." For God so loved the world that God gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned; whoever does not believe is condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one who does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest their deeds should be exposed. 21 But whoever does what is true comes to the light, that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been wrought in God.John 3: 14-21


The medical profession has a rather strange symbol for healing. It is two snakes intertwined around a pole with two wings at the top. This therapeutic symbol is known as the caduceus. The symbol was appropriated from the Greek god Hermes, the messenger of the gods. According to Greek mythology Hermes came across two fighting snakes. He threw his magic wand at them. They became entangled and stopped fighting. The staff of Aesclepius is similar. Aesclepius was a physician living around 1200 B.C.E. who became the god of medicine. His staff was a single serpent intertwined around a pole. Isn’t it a bit odd that venomous and deadly snakes wrapped around a pole became symbols of healing and life?

The writer of the gospel of John doesn’t seem to think that a deadly snake lifted up on a pole is an odd symbol. He uses this symbol to point to the paradoxical death-dealing and life-giving cross of Christ. John draws an analogy between the lifting up of Jesus on the cross and Moses’ lifting up of a serpent on a pole in the wilderness. The comparison of Jesus on the cross to a snake on a pole is odd enough. What makes it even stranger is the fact that for John the lifting up of Jesus on a humiliating cross is his exaltation and our salvation. Death has been transformed into life.

In order to better understand the comparison of Jesus on a cross to a snake on a pole, we need to walk back through the pages of the bible and sit ourselves down in the wilderness with the Israelites and Moses. As you look out over the barren landscape your throat begins to dry. You can feel the grit of sand in the teeth. Sweat glistens on the brow and cakes the dirt on your skin. Your belly growls. Why has Moses brought us out here in this godforsaken wilderness? Some leader you are. We had it better back in Egypt! Yahweh, send us something besides this god-awful manna. We’re sick of it! Manna for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Give us a break! It tastes like chewed up and spit out motzah. Yuuuck! So, God sends the complaining Israelites something else besides manna. Hssssssssss. Did you hear that? Sounds like….sssssnakes. Look ! Look! Hissing snakes sliding out from behind the rocks. They’re everywhere! The snakes begin to bite the people and they die. Their only legacy will be the dirt mounds they will leave behind in the wilderness. Moses falls on his knees and prays fervently for the people. And how odd of God, who says to Moses, “Holy Moses, I need you to get off your knees and go make a sculpture. I want you to make a poisonous snake out of bronze and wrap it around a pole, so that whenever someone is bitten by a serpent they can look upon the snake raised up on the pole and live.” There you are sitting in the wilderness gazing up at death nailed onto a pole, staring at a symbol of that which has brought death in your midst as a way of gaining healing and life. Strange indeed.

Well, maybe not that strange. There may be healing and life offered to us by gazing at our dark and deadly side, by holding up our own snakes on a pole. We all have a venomous side that can poison our soul if not brought into the light. Psychologist Carl Jung referred to it as “the Shadow.” The shadow side of our personality is formed when we repress, shove into the closet of our unconscious, a part of ourselves that does not live up to our or others expectations or ideal standards, such as moral codes. And though we may look away from our dark and deadly side, it may thrust itself in our faces until we claim it. Let’s say that in seeking to conform to the Christian ideal of being a peacemaker someone identifies with that ideal to such an extent that they suppress or deny their own anger and violence, their shadow side.

There are many who have grown up in pacifist traditions whose shadow side is an unacknowledged anger and violence hissing beneath a stony exterior. I have always thought of myself as a naturally peaceful person. As a child I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, while my friends hunted with bee-bee guns. I avoided fighting and rarely, if ever expressed anger toward another person. At 19, during the Vietnam War, I registered as a conscientious objector because I felt I could not take another human being’s life. I seemed to be naturally peaceful person. It was only after I entered the wildernesses of life that I began to see my darker side. After five years of preparing for the ministry I was forced to resign from my home church under poisoned circumstances. I spent the next three years doing sweaty, manual labor at tire stores unable to connect with another church position. I complained to a silent God. I held in the venom until I could taste it in the corner of my mouth. I still remember my frustration exploding in rage as I slammed my fist into a tire where I worked.

There were other wilderness experiences, like the long and winding road my wife and I traveled after we adopted two of our children, who had been raised in an abusive home. It was tough when they were young, but when they hit adolescence all hell broke loose! My anger, rage, violent thoughts and feelings boiled to the surface as I had to constantly deal with children who were unconsciously recreating chaos in our home, which was to them normal. I have had many such wilderness experiences that have forced me to gaze upon the venomous snake wrapped around my soul, consciously acknowledging I have an angry, violent side, even as I seek to be a peacemaker. Like the apostle Paul had to acknowledge; that which we despise, we do. Only in looking upon the snake wrapped around the pole of my soul have I found any salve of healing and life.

Only as we gaze upon the snake intertwined around our collective soul can we behold the possibility for healing and life. There is such a thing as a collective shadow. A social group can repress and suppress its own shadow in the light of its own professed ideals. Failure to look upon the snake coiled around our collective soul, as in the soul of a nation, leads to death and death-dealing. We are seeing the deadly effects of our nation’s failure to gaze upon its own shadow side in the light of our professed ideals. We are country that prides itself and announces to the world its democratic ideals, the land of the free….

At the same time, in the wilderness of our historic fears of communism and terrorism we have violently suppressed emerging democracies and created the U.S. Patriot Act to rob citizens of numerous liberties. We say to the world we are a peace loving people. We care for those in need. And yet, within a century we have engaged in hundreds of military interventions into other nations from Argentina to Zaire and we have poured billions upon billions of dollars into the war with Iraq and now the war in Afghanistan, while our economy teeters on the brink of the abyss and funds for the weak and vulnerable in our own society are strangely never available. We stand on top of a mountain of weapons of mass destruction and demand, demand that others stop developing the same. We once pointed a crooked finger at Saddam for using WMDs against the Kurds, while we forgot that we once supported Saddam and supplied him with these WMDs! We forget that we were the first and only nation to use the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagazaki. Rather than acknowledging our shadow side, we deny it, suppress it, and project our violence onto others, while intoning the words, “God bless America.” Jesus was well aware of this deadly dynamic when he said, “For with the judgment you make you will be judged…Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye.” We fail to gaze upon the snake intertwined around our own collective soul and still....we are not healed.

Is there a balm in Gilead? Is there healing in the cross? And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man, the Child of Humanity, be lifted up. The cross our healing salve? A political instrument of humiliation, torture, and death become Christ’s exaltation and our salvation? How odd. How utterly strange and paradoxical. Jesus on the cross like a snake on a pole? There is a shadow side that curls its scaly skin around the cross. I am indebted to cultural and literary theorist Rene Girard for helping me to see what he calls the “scapegoat theory” and “sacred violence” not only coming to play in the cross, but as a dark dynamic within the human history.

Without getting into the complexities and problems with the theory, Girard illuminates the cross as an event which radically exposes the shadow side of humanity, uncover our violence hidden beneath religious rhetoric, myths, and rituals. The cross becomes a revelation, an unveiling of our poison in the innocent victim who was strung up on two pieces of wood. The cross exposes to the light our complicity in victimization. Or as the African-American spiritual moans, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” and the silent confession must come back: Yes, we were there. In the mob mentality and the cries for blood. We were there. In the blaming and in the projection of our own shadows onto others. In the scapegoating and the drawing of the sword. We were there. In feigned innocence and washed hands. In the denial and betrayal while standing comfortably by a warm fire, or a glowing TV set, forgetting, forgetting that we are disciples of Jesus. We were there in the drama of the cross. Gazing up at last at the venom of our violence…..and the hope of our healing.

There is a healing balm in the cross. And as odd as it may sound to some, there is a glorious side of the cross. That’s why John can speak of the lifting up of the cross as his exaltation. For it is in the event of the cross that our sins, our scapegoating, our complicity in violence were not only exposed, but forgiven. In the cross God transforms death into life, defeat into victory, humiliation into exaltation. In the cross the voice of God speaks through human vocal chords and says, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” I’m not talking about easy forgiveness or cheap grace, but a change of heart that takes place when, through the splintery cross and the Christ who hangs upon it, we see who we really are and allow God to transform us into who we are supposed to be. An early Jewish targum or commentary on the story of Moses and the serpent on the pole says that it was not just the looking at the serpent that brought healing to the people, but their change of heart. Or should we say there was a “cure of the heart.” The deadly cross offers a healing balm. It is only a cure of the heart that will change the world, that will save the world. Poet Wallace Stevens speaks this truth in earthy images:

It is not enough to cover the rock with leaves.
We must be cured of it by a cure of the ground
Or a cure of ourselves, that is equal to a cure
Of the ground, a cure beyond forgetfulness.

O, to believe that this kind of healing were possible would be life indeed. Where could we look for such life? The kind of life that God has, the kind of life God offers. Eternal life. Life that does not perish or wither. Life that does not demean nor destroy. Life that offers forgiveness and restoration. Life in all its fullness and abundance. Life healed and whole and holy. Paradoxically, life risen from the tomb of death. Where can we find such life? Look. Look. Gaze upon the cross, the healing pole. For just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Child of Humanity be lifted up, so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

Walking on the Water

*I preached this sermon this morning at Salem Mennonite Church, Salem, Oregon. It was recently published at Preaching.com: http://www.preaching.com/resources/preaching-online/11657155/

In the gospel story Jesus and Peter walked on the water. What is this bizarre story all about, anyhow? Modern enlightened readers may have some difficulty with the credibility of stories of people walking on the water. This couldn’t be true. Although incredible, stories of people walking on water are not all that rare. Not long ago I watched the illusionist Chris Angel on Mind Freak walk across a Las Vegas swimming pool. It just meant that he could place clear plexiglass under the surface and fool people into thinking he was like Jesus. More recently the British illusionist Dynamo walked across the River Thames. I even read that Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, and some of his disciples could walk on water…. well, with hidden planks under the water.

There are stories about the Buddha walking on water. Even one of his disciples, Sariputta, walked on water, but his heart gave way and he began to sink beneath the troubled waters. But rousing his faith, he kept on going and reached the shore. Hmmm. Seems like I’ve heard a story similar to this one somewhere before! Then, the Buddha taught the people about casting off all shackles and crossing the river of worldliness and attaining deliverance from death. The Buddha told the people exactly what walking on the water meant. So, what does this story of Jesus and Peter walking on water mean?

Is the story of Jesus walking on the water about him having super powers? There aren’t two many people that I know who can walk on water, in spite of what Randy Travis says about his beloved grandpa in his song He walked on water. Is Matthew telling this story to prove that Jesus had super powers, like the super heroes in Marvel comics? Stan Lee, who created many of the Marvel comic super heroes, has a new show called Superhumans. Lee commissions Daniel Browning Smith, a contortionist, to travel the world to look for humans with superhuman abilities. He has interviewed and tested people like Rajmohan Nair from India who can receive 30 times the electricity in his body than the normal human or Darren Taylor, “Professor Splash,” who survived a 36 foot belly flop into 1 foot of water creating a world record!

Is Matthew just telling us that Jesus is “The Amazing Rabbi River Rambler” and deserves a spot on the next episode of Superhumans? In Matthew, surrounding the story of Jesus walking on water, he feeds 5000, then 4000 with a few loaves and fishes, heals the sick, a man with a withered hand, and two blind men. These are all miracle stories. They point to Jesus as someone with extraordinary, supernatural, superhuman abilities. Jesus is more than human. But, there seems to be more to this story of Jesus walking on the water than to point out that he is more than human, someone with super powers.

Maybe this story is about Jesus being the master of the wind and waves. More than someone with superpowers, Jesus is portrayed as the “Son of God” and “Master of the sea.” There is a story similar to the one of Jesus walking on the water earlier in Matthew’s gospel. Another storm arises on the sea of Galilee, a frequent occurrence, and the waves swamp the boat. Jesus is not walking on the water, but sleeping like a baby in the tossed boat. The disciples wake Jesus and cry out that they are perishing. Jesus comments about their little faith and rebukes the wind and the sea. They are amazed and wonder what kind of human can make the wind and sea obey him.

Both that story and this one about Jesus walking on the water have similar elements. First, in both stories a storm arises on the sea. Second, the disciple’s boat is tossed by the waves. Third, the disciples are afraid. Fourth, Jesus comments about his disciples’ lack of faith. Fifth, Jesus exhibits power over the sea by calming it or walking over it. And finally, the disciples comment about the extraordinary nature of Jesus, as more than a mere man or the Son of God.

These two stories both seem to point to Jesus as one who is master of the sea, Lord of the wind and waves. The sea was more than a place for the disciples to fish. It was believed to be a place of evil and chaos. And it takes a god to control or overpower it. This is the case in Babylonian and Canaanite mythology, as well as in the Bible, where the sea is like a monster that must be defeated. It is Yahweh who conquers Leviathan and the sea. The Psalmist proclaims:

But God has been my king from ancient times,
performing acts of deliverance on the earth.
You destroyed the sea by your strength;
you shattered the heads of the sea monster in the water.
You crushed the heads of Leviathan. (Psalm 74:12-14)

And in another Psalm we read:

O Lord, sovereign God!
Who is strong like you, O Lord?
Your faithfulness surrounds you.
You rule over the proud sea.
When its waves surge, you calm them.
You crushed Rahab and killed it;
with your strong arm you scattered your enemies.

Job reinforces this same belief about the chaos of the monster Rahab and the sea with Yahweh having power over them:

By his power he stills the sea;
by his wisdom he cut Rahab the great sea monster to pieces.
By his breath the skies became fair;
his hand pierced the fleeing serpent (Job 26:12-13)

So, it would appear from ancient beliefs about the evil and chaos of the sea and Jesus actions that these two gospel stories are pointing to Jesus as more than a mere human. Jesus is, like Yahweh, the Lord of the wind and waves, sovereign of the sea, master of evil and chaos.

But then again, could Matthew’s story of Jesus walking on the water also be about Peter’s lack of faith? This story is found in different forms in Matthew, Mark, and John. Unique to Matthew is the part about Peter asking Jesus to command him to walk toward him on the water. Matthew wants to say something particular by adding this part of the story.

This is one of those almost stereotypical depictions of Peter, the impetuous, impulsive disciple. Remember how Peter rebuked Jesus for saying he would be crucified, said he would never deny Jesus but does, blurted out something about building altars at the transfiguration, went overboard about washing his whole body at a foot washing, grabbed a sword at Jesus’ arrest and cut off a slave’s ear. So, asking Jesus to step out on the water is par for the course. Peter is just being Peter.

Well, here he is again not putting his foot in his mouth this time, but upon the surface of the sea. I wonder why he wants to step out on the churning waters. Does he think the water is shallow enough to wade over to greet Jesus? Is he just not thinking about the fact that humans don’t normally walk on water? Is this simply childish curiosity? If Jesus can do it, then why can’t I? Does Peter think he can become the master over the chaos, evil and storms of his own life?

Whatever the reason, Peter fearlessly puts his “little piggy” into the gurgling water. One uneasy step, then another. He is being held up by some power that transcends his normal life. The waves splash against his legs soaking his robe. Yet, he pays no mind to the wind and waves. His eyes are fixed upon Jesus.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

But, then there’s this little problem. Peter notices the strong wind. Fear creeps in, chaos stirs up his soul, Leviathan digs a sharp claw in his flesh. And Peter begins to sink. The chaotic sea, the evil ocean, rides up to his ankles, then his calves, his knees, his thighs, his waist. Waves crash against his chest. He can taste the foam. Peter turns his eyes upon Jesus and cries out, “Lord, save me!” Have you ever cried out like that?

I wonder if this is just another demonstration of the dire consequences of Peter’s impulsive nature? Or does Peter really represent anyone who has had their faith tested or has taken their eyes off Jesus or who is sinking in the sea of sin and sadness and needs to be saved? I wonder.

You want to know what I think? I think this story is about Jesus, Lord of the wind and waves, who saves us through the storms and chaos of life. There’s a savior standing there on the waves.

I would like to take us back to the moment when Peter started to walk toward Jesus on the water and starts sinking down beneath the waves. I want to freeze frame that instant and create our own classic painting like so many I’ve seen depicting this gospel story.

Paint this picture on the canvas of your mind. An angry storm is raging on the Sea of Galilee. Dark clouds shroud the sea like a cape. Streaks of falling rain watercolor the gray sky. The waves rise like mountains and scoop out deep valleys. Strong winds blow the foam off the top of the waves. A small wooden boat filled with disciples careens on the rollercoaster sea. Jesus calmly walks across the surface of the sea, his robe and hair flowing in the wind. His strong arm reaches out to a shadowy figure sunk waist deep in the froth and foam. But, it’s not Peter. I would recognize Peter anywhere. So, who is this sinking soul? Could it be one of us?

I see in our painting someone who has struggled through this economic recession trying to keep their head above water. Dark shadows encircle their eyes. Maybe they lost their job or are barely making ends meet. They’re finding it hard to keep their faith in God or life or anyone as a sea of bills pour in.

In our painting someone’s boat has been rocking and they want to get out of it. They experienced a sinking feeling as the doctor came into the exam room and told them their health was not on solid ground. Waves of mortality crashed against the rocks of their soul.

In another corner of our painting a new follower of Jesus has stepped out of their boat of safety and security wanting to walk closer to Jesus. It looks like they got involved in a community service ministry and found themselves up to their neck in the problems of other people. How can I solve the troubles of these people, let alone my own? Feeling like they were going to drown they cried out for help.

Then an unseen hand reaches out and pulls us up out of a sea of troubles, a storm in our lives, a watery grave. And we’re saved. And we want to shout, “Thank you, Jesus!” Get the picture?

Christ has the power to reach out a hand to anyone afraid, venturing out of the boat, caught in the storms of life, sinking beneath the waves. Christ is master of the sea, Lord of the wind and waves!

I remember Eddie Mesa, a water-walker known as “the Elvis Presley of the Philippines.” He was a handsome singer, a star of the Philippine cinema, a lover of “wine, women and song.” To those around him it looked like he was walking on water, but his life was sinking. He ended up leaving his wife. Then, he came to the States in 1977 where one evening he just happened to stumble upon the Lost and Found Coffeehouse. Maybe he was trying to find himself. This was a Christian coffeehouse my wife Iris and I started to minister to street people in San Francisco.

At the Lost and Found Eddie met some Filipino friends of ours, the Laigo Brothers, who frequently played Christian music at our coffee house. They knew who Eddie was and talked to him in the dim light. My good friend Bobby, who died just this year, shared Christ with Eddie. After that evening in the city by the bay Eddie Mesa’s life was never the same. What was once lost was now found. A hand reached out to him down under the waves and once again I know that Jesus saves.

Upon his return to the Philippines he turned down a number of films he thought inconsistent with his newfound faith. Eddie started adding gospel music to his singing repertoire and ended up becoming an full time evangelist for Christ. Christ reached out to Eddie sinking in the sea. Christ, master of the wind and waves, has the power to save.

There in the city by the bay, among a band of his disciples, Christ reached out a hand to Eddie sinking beneath the wicked waves of fame and unfaithfulness. There amid a sea of people dipping and drowning, Christ reached out a hand to Eddie Mesa and lifted him up out of the chaos that consumed his life. Truly this is the Son of God.

What reminded me of the story of Eddie Mesa was a song we used to play in the flickering candlelight at the Lost and Found. It is a song by Christian Rock group Daniel Amos based on the story of Jesus walking on the water. In their song Walking on the Water the story of Peter becomes our story. Whatever chaos or storm you may have or are now facing in your life, turn your eyes upon Jesus, put yourself there in Peter’s sandals:

A storm at sea, and there sits me in a boat
And there's the Savior standing on the waves
The wind is tossing and turning the ship
But I decide to get out of it
And what do I see?
Could it be... I'm standing on the water?
Now, Jesus smiles and bids me come near
But I say, "Lord, there's a storm out there... I may fall"
He says, "Son, don't take your eyes off me
Look straight ahead and you'll arrive safely”
Then I saw me
Would you believe?... Walking on the water!

Now, things get rough and I look to the right
I'd seen Jesus so plainly, now I've lost sight
I start sinking down
And a hand reaches out to me down under the waves
Once again I know that Jesus saves
It's then I find
Oh, there am I... walking on the water


Walking on the water
What a pleasant surprise!
Walking on the water
Tryin' to keep my eyes on the One I'm confiding in
One I'm abiding in... walking on the water

A Surprise Ending

*Note- This sermon was originally preached in a congregation in Texas in the 90s.

On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers,[a] who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" And he said to him, "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well." Luke 17:11-17

Let me warn you before I begin preaching this sermon. The gospel has a way of sneaking up on us. The good news of Jesus can tiptoe up on us and smack us up side our nice, neat expectations. And Jesus seems to be at the center of all this subversive activity. He's always throwing us curve balls. He turns our world on top of its head. According to his backwards way of thinking, the last are first and the first last. The rich are cursed and the poor are blessed. Outsiders are inside and insiders are outside. Prostitutes, tax-collectors, outcasts are honored dinner guests at Jesus’ table. So-called sinners get into heaven before the so-called righteous. Samaritans are good. Enemies are loved. Children are our teachers. Then, Jesus goes around telling us these upside down parables, stories with hidden time bombs, that explode our reasonable worlds. To top it all off the plot of his life ain't very predictable either. The deliverer ends up needing to be delivered, the savior needing to be saved as he hangs there nailed to that old rugged cross. Then, when we come to what seems the end of the story, like father like son, God flips things upside down on their head and raises a dead man to life. That’s not the ending to the story we could ever expect. So, I’m warning you, don’t be surprised if the gospel sneaks up and surprises us, maybe even while I’m preaching.

Today's gospel story seems pretty predictable though. It would make a nice sermon on gratitude, thanksgiving. As the story goes, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Entering a crackerbox village, ten lepers approach him. They keep their distance because they are "unclean." In a pitiful tone the ten cry out, "Lord Jesus, have mercy on us!" Jesus doesn't touch them. He doesn’t wave his hands and say "abracadabra, your healed." He doesn’t so much as give them a band aid. Jesus simply says, "Go and show yourselves to the priests"; these were the temple officials who could pronounce them "clean." On their way to the temple all ten are healed! Made whole! Freed from being called “dirty,” “filthy, “unclean.” Freed from being looked down upon. Freed from being considered second-class. Freed from being cut off from their community. All ten lepers were healed! Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus! You would think all of them would have ran back to Jesus and cried out, “Thank you, Jesus!” But, only one returns, shouting his praise to God loud enough for everyone to hear. He don’t care what other people think. He gives no never mind. He flattens himself out on the ground and shouts, "Thank you, Jesus!"

Thank you, Jesus! That would make a nice title for my sermon. Maybe a better title than “A Surprise Ending.” I could use this gospel story to preach on giving thanks. That's been the topic of millions of sermons preached on this gospel story. But, hey, one more wouldn't hurt, right? Aren't we supposed to be thankful, like the one who thanked Jesus? Gratitude is a good thing. We could all use an attitude of gratitude. Gratitude is a virtue to be honored. I think we all could say “amen” to a sermon on being thankful. This sermon could be about giving thanks to God for our parents, our children, our home, our health, or our job. I could preach to you about singing praises to God for the simple things in life---rising to a new day, the morning sun on your face, the smell of fresh coffee, the song of a bird, the laughter of a child. There are so many gifts to give thanks to God for. We all like to give thanks to God, don't we? Amen? We could appreciate another sermon on thanksgiving.

Well, that depends. Maybe not if I moralized the gospel story and preached one of those "oughta sermons." You’ve heard preachers who preach “oughta” sermons, haven’t you? You oughta be thankful! You oughta go to church more and thank God more! You oughta be thankful you're not hungry and sick! You oughta be grateful you're of sound mind and body! On and on it goes, “You oughta…you oughta…” I remember just such a sermon on giving thanks based on this bible story of the ten lepers. The preacher told a long string of sad, pitiful stories of people dying from diseases, all the while trying to make us healthy people feel more thankful. Faces in the pews were drooping. Everyone looked like they had been weaned on sour pickles! Near the end of the sermon the preacher said we oughta be thankful for the shoes we wear, for some people in this world don't even have feet to put shoes on! After that sermon the people with droopy faces were truly feeling thankful. They were thankful that depressing sermon was over! Well, in my sermon I could tell you a bunch of sad stories and plead with you, "Come on people, you oughta be more thankful, like the one leper who returned to Jesus and gave thanks. Please, be more thankful." And if I preached that sermon, you too would be thankful....when the sermon was over!

Or if a guilt trip didn't work I could castigate you for not being as thankful as you should be. It's your moral duty to be thankful! God commands: Be thankful! It's right there in black and white in the Bible! God will judge those harshly who aren't thankful! Anyone who isn't truly thankful shouldn't even be in this church! For God's sake, how could you be so ungrateful!? That might make a good sermon for a community Thanksgiving service. You know the kind. Preaching professor Fred Craddock tells a story of when he had to attend one of those Thanksgiving services held in the community. A number of churches get together for a service and muster up about as many people as if only one church had the service. And inevitably the text for the evening is...ten lepers came to Jesus and were healed...only one returned to give thanks. Then, the preacher mounts the pulpit, looks out over the sparse audience and with furrowed brow cries out, "Where are the nine? Where are the nine? Where are the nine?" For an hour the preacher yells, "Where are the nine?" Craddock says at that point in the service he's thinking to himself, "There where I'd be if I had a lick of sense!" From today's gospel story I could preach a sermon on giving thanks, but I'll save that one for another day.

I believe most of us would rather hear a sermon on faith in Jesus as the source of our salvation. That seems to be the message of our gospel story. All ten lepers are healed. All ten. One returns to give thanks. To only one Jesus' says, "Your faith has saved you." But, weren't all ten healed? So, what's the difference between this one and the other nine? Ten were healed. One was saved. Granted, the word here can be translated as either "healed" or "saved." But, only one returns to Jesus. The nine go on their merry way. Only one returns to Jesus. Only one bows before Jesus. Only one recognizes Jesus as the source of his healing. Only one hears from the lips of Jesus the word of salvation. That's what makes his faith different from the nine. He alone sees something the others don't see. He alone understands, acknowledges, praises, and gives thanks to the source of his healing and salvation. He sees his cure as part of the deeper meaning of salvation brought to him by Jesus.

Now, that would make a powerful sermon. I could title it: Jesus, the Source of our Salvation. I believe I just might be able to get an "amen" from this congregation if I preached that gospel truth. I could even preach it with three points and a poem: First point: Come back to Jesus! Well? Second point: Thank God through Jesus! Amen? Third point: Bow down before Jesus, the source of our healing and salvation! Can I get a witness? People, that is the gospel truth! We are to come back to Jesus, even when others don't. We are to give thanks to God through Jesus, even when others don't. We are to bow before Jesus, who is the source of our healing and salvation and not only for us, but for all humanity, even for those who don't thank Jesus. We are the ones who proclaim that it is Jesus, the Balm of Gilead, who heals us. We are the ones who acknowledge that it is Jesus, Healer of our every ill, who makes us whole and restores us to our community. We are the ones who thank God that it is Jesus, Savior of sinners, who is the source of our salvation.

It is our faith in this Jesus which saves us. We are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. That's the gospel truth. We are not saved because we're good or because we're better or holier than others. We’re not saved because we're more religious. Not because we're Mennonite or Baptist or Episcopalian or Church of God in Christ. Not because we have our name on a membership roll. Not because we give money to the church or teach a Sunday School class. We are saved by the grace of God in Christ, simply because we have come to Jesus in faith, the source of salvation. Our faith, our trust in Jesus alone, has saved us. One came to Jesus in faith and was not just healed, but saved. He didn’t have to get his life straight first. He came to Jesus and was saved. Are you that one? Do you believe this gospel truth? You are accepted by Jesus upon your faith and trust in him and not because of who you are or what you have done? If you are that one who came back to Jesus and was saved say, "Amen", say, “Thank you, Jesus.” That's what makes us Christian. That's what makes us part of the Christian community. The healing grace of God. Simple faith in Jesus. Nothing else. As Christians, we believe with all our hearts Jesus is the source of healing and salvation----for all people. Not just for some. Not just for you and me. But, for all people. I may have a sermon yet; that is, if I preach the gospel, the surprising good news.

But, like I warned you, if I do preach the gospel, it might just sneak up on us. It may topple the tables of our minds and hearts and all the coins of our expectations may go jingling across the floor. So, maybe I should just retell the gospel story, put it in the new suit of where we live……There were once ten patients in a hospital. All ten were suffering from the same dreaded disease. They had been isolated to one room and were not allowed to have contact with anyone inside or outside the hospital. The attending doctor and nurses wore rubber gloves when they worked on the patients. Some nurses assigned to that wing refused to work with the patients out of fear. If it weren't for the disease, these ten quarantined patients probably would never have associated with each other. One thing they had in common, besides their affliction, was that they all were churchgoers...well, to some degree. They often prayed together that God would be merciful and grant them healing or at least a remission of their disease.

One day when the doctor was making his rounds and giving them their daily check up, he noticed that the skin lesions on all ten patients had miraculously disappeared. He told them all to come with him to another room for further tests. All the tests indicated, for some unknown reason, their disease had gone into remission. So, the next day their doctor, still scratching his head, released them all from the hospital. They all packed up their belongings and headed their separate ways. Except one. He stopped by the hospital chapel, fell down hard on his knees before a stained glass window of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. With tears streaming down his cheeks and loud cries that could be heard all the way to the gift shop, this one poured out his heart to God. “Thank you, God! Thank you, Jesus!” He wept for joy believing in his heart that it was his faith in Christ that healed him…....from AIDS. Oh, I forgot to tell you....the man was gay.

Jesus pulls the rug out from under us with a surprise ending. The way Luke tells it, he waits until the very end of this gospel story to let his readers know that the one who returned to Jesus, gave thanks, and was not only healed, but saved, was.... a Samaritan. As a leper and Samaritan this man was an outcast among outcasts, doubly scorned, labeled "unclean" and "foreign born." As a leper he was excluded, cut off from acceptable society, labeled "dirty," considered a source of pollution to the community. It was only because of their common disease and being excluded from the larger community that brought these ten lepers together. So, when Jesus healed all ten, he was not simply curing their disease, but restoring them to their community. That is, all except for one. Jesus could not "cure" one of being a Samaritan. He was born that way. Considered a "half-breed." Part of a people who had to have their own separate churches and ministers; a people whose faith was suspect. Even after he was healed and saved, he would have to remain apart from those nine with whom he shared a disease that cut them all off from society. He was truly an outcast among outcasts. Leper. Samaritan. Those labels stand out in Luke's gospel story like a sore thumb.

Oh, we can change the names and labels----from Samaritan with leprosy to Gentile woman with chronic bleeding, old woman with mental illness, homeless man with…. It makes no difference. Since we have no Samaritans with leprosy to point to we have to translate "Samaritan with leprosy" into modern language, not just to make it updated, but so we might feel in our own bones the surprise ending of the gospel story. I could have translated “Samaritan with leprosy,” as "politician with sex addiction"! But, I didn’t. In Jesus’ day the Samaritan with leprosy represents the despised and rejected, the outcast and marginalized, the forgotten and forsaken in society. Those are the ones that where left out, pushed aside, despised, rejected, labeled, and called names. Those are the ones that Jesus most dearly loved. Those are the ones who Jesus offered hope, healing, wholeness, liberation, and salvation.

Now, don't hear me wrong. I'm not trying to make any moral statements from this story or preaching “You oughta do this or that.” I'm just preaching the gospel. And the gospel of Jesus Christ says: We are saved by the amazing grace through faith in Jesus Christ alone, the source of healing and salvation, a message of liberation for all people, no matter who we are or what we’ve done or haven’t done, or what people in the community may think of us or call us. The gospel has restored us to the beloved community of God.

As Christians, we believe Jesus is the sole source of our salvation. Nothing else. It is Jesus who heals us, save us, and restores us to community. It is Jesus who has thrown away all the labels that people want to hang on us. It is Jesus who has broken down all the walls that divide us. It is Jesus who has reconciled us as one people. It is Jesus who offers this same good news to all people, to all people. We have no one to thank for our healing, our salvation, our liberation, our restoration, but Jesus. Hallelujah! Praise be to God! Thank you, Jesus!

Will you return to Jesus and give thanks for this world-shaking, earth quaking, wall-breaking, bone-clattering, label-shattering, soul-surprising gospel? Or will we go on our separate ways? Separating ourselves from those we call “other,” “different,” “unclean,” “not-our-kind.” Or will we, for Jesus’ sake, welcome the Samaritan, whoever that may be for us. Welcome those who have been healed and saved along with us? One of the lepers who was healed, a Samaritan, returned, fell at Jesus' feet, and gave thanks. And Jesus said, "Your faith has saved you."

The Godwrestler

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.
When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck
him in the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he
wrestled with him. Then he said, ''Let me go, for the day is breaking. "
But Jacob said, "1will not let you go unless you bless me. " So, he said
to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob:" 'Then the man
said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have
striven with God and with humans and have prevailed."
Genesis 32:22-32

The ancient story of Jacob is rugged and powerful. It is not a simple, edifying story with an uplifting moral lesson. To read it is to see it's teeth gleam and it's sweating muscles bulge. The story is similar to other ancient stories of gods and demons who leap upon humans at night and engage them in combat near riverbanks. The thought of wrestling with a god is as frightening as the thought of Pee Wee Herman wrestling Hulk Hogan. If we are to wrestle a blessing from this story, it will only be after we have grappled with it for some time. And' we may come away from this story limping, wounded by the struggle. But, as the story goes, we may then be ready to receive our new name. Because in our wrestling with the text, and how it speaks to us, we may walk away having seen reflected in the mirror of this story, not only our own faces, but the face of God.

It is night. The darkness is filled with sounds that terrify. A solitary man fretfully waits by the gurgling Jabbok river. Alone. In the distance he can hear the muffled sounds of a caravan with camel bells jingling. His loving family, herds, and all he possesses have crossed over the river. They bear gifts to appease an angry adversary on the other side of the dark river. It's as if Jacob is at the point of no return. When the sun rises he must go across and face his brother Esau. Beads of sweat form on his furrowed brow and glistened on his beard. His insides are churning like the water hitting the nearby rocks. He dare not sleep. The silent air is thick with an ominous foreboding.

Then suddenly from out of the bowels of the darkness leaps a faceless and nameless stranger and throws Jacob to the ground. The cold flesh of the night stranger presses hard against Jacob. His foul breath is hot in Jacob's face. Their bodies intertwined like snakes in a deadly dance. Twisting. Turning. Grunting. Panting. Scissor holds. Half-Nelsons. Body slams. The wrestling seems endless.

What or who is he wrestling with in the dark of night? The god of the river? Esau? Himself? His own fears? His past? His destiny? Some inner demon? God? Maybe it's all of those things twisted together that Jacob wrestles into the night. Those of us who have experienced such inner struggles cannot easily distinguish what or who it is we are wrestling. Our battling relationships or our struggles with self-identity may be, at the same time, struggles with God. Jacob is probably no different. What is it that has Jacob in a headlock? With what or whom is he struggling beside the riverbank?

To better understand Jacob's struggle we might look back at Jacob's life and think of him as a professional wrestler, who has been sitting in the comer of a ring waiting to combat an opponent. The announcer comes to the center of the ring. His voice echoes through the PA system. Ladies and Gentlemen ...men...men. In this corner...comer...corner ...is Jacob ...Jacob ...Jacob. Then the announcer proceeds to describe the contestant. What we hear is not his weight or the color of his trunks, but the unfolding of his life up to this point. We see flashbacks of Jacob, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, whose life seems to have been a constant struggle.

The first flashback is a scene in a maternity ward. More correctly, a goat-skin tent. Inside, a sweaty woman, Rebekah, groans to give birth. Within her womb are twins wrestling to see who can make it out first. It's almost as if, prenatal, they knew that the firstborn child would eventually receive their father's special blessing. So, they struggle with each other, even in the womb. Suddenly there is a deep moan. Out from the womb comes a hairy, red headed baby, who they name Esau. Not to be outdone, the second child comes out, named Jacob, gripping onto his brother with a wrestler's grip.

The second flashback is a scene in a kitchen. The steam rises from a bubbling pot. The vapor of smell from lentil stew floats through the air and caresses the nose of Esau and pulls him forward almost floating, like a scene from a cartoon. Esau has come in tired, gritty, and famished from a long day of hard work in the fields. "Give me some of that red stuff, I'm starving", growls Esau. Jacob stands there with his apron on stirring the pot. "First," responds Jacob cunningly, "sell me your birthright." Beans for a birthright. Quite a bargain. Here is a cheater and conniver at work Jacob is being true to his name.

The third flashback is a scene of a bedroom. A man, named Isaac, lies in a bed inside a tent. The sun is going down over the red hills and the oil lamp inside the tent makes it glow. Isaac's eyes are tombs wrapped in wrinkles. A fly buzzes through the air and lands. He calls out to his firstborn, his favorite son Esau, to come into the tent to receive his due blessing. Not a mere formal blessing like, "God bless you". But a blessing which is a transfer of the power of the one who blesses to the one being blessed.

The doting mother of Jacob overhears the conversation with Esau, from outside the tent. While Esau is Isaac's favored son, Jacob is her's. She has spoiled this boy rotten. It doesn't take a family therapist to recognize that there is favoritism and rivalry within this family. The parents of these twins are having their own wrestling match. But we, who know about parental favoritism and playing one child over against the other, are aware of the results that such pitting of child against child can bring into the lives of children as they grow older. Children who have grown up in such dysfunctional families go limping through life with hidden wounds.

The mother has a few tricks up her sleeve. Her scheme is to have her son disguise himself as Esau and finagle his blind father out of the blessing. Later, rustling feet enter Isaac's tent bringing the smell of Esau. The hairy arm feels like Esau. But Isaac's blind eyes cannot see that it is the trickster Jacob who finally gets the father's blessing. The scene closes with a loud moan coming from the tent. We recognize the angry scream. It's Esau. Boiling over with hatred.

Other scenes from the past of our wrestler, quickly flash before our eyes. One is of the con man being conned. The scene is an informal wedding. It is taking place in the land where Jacob has fled from the red-hot anger of Esau. The canopy hangs over the lucky couple. But it doesn't look like luck Jacob has been conned into marrying Leah, the oldest daughter of Laban, in order to get the younger daughter, Rachel, as his wife. Not only that, but Laban got seven years of labor out of Jacob from the deal. The trickster has been tricked. Jacob will soon turn the tables and use his conniving skills to benefit himself But for now, he sweats under the wedding canopy. A veil hide the face of the women at the altar. But there is no veil to hide Laban's half-smile. He has duped Jacob.

Another scene flashes into the mind of the godwrestler. The scene is of bleating sheep being herded away by Jacob. His family and possessions make a cloud of dust as they leave the country of Laban. They did not part the best of friends. Laban pursues Jacob and his caravan of ill-gotten-gain. But a covenant at Mizpah keeps them from going at each others throats in the future. Jacob heads back home. Angels refresh his journey. He's going to need a few angels to travel with him. He is headed toward his red, hot brother, Esau.

In this corner ...corner ...corner ... is Jacob ...acob ...acob. The announcers voice brings us back to the riverside. Jacob comes to his senses. He has been a pampered pup. A momma's boy. A trickster, cheater, conniver. He is no worthy opponent. He run's away from his problems. Not this time. The bell has already rung and Jacob .has been in the ring wrestling with his faceless adversary all night long. Who, in this world or the next, is this shadow wrestler?

His adversary is stronger than any man. But the once-resigned and cowardly Jacob puts up quite a fight. From somewhere courage springs up within the defeated Jacob. And it's not just an-adrenaline rush. Blow for blow he doesn't give up or give in. Jacob is now literally wrestling for his life.

Relentless. They go at it until the sun begins to peak .over the mountain's crest. He's becoming quite a wrestler! And as the dawn begins to break, it appears that Jacob is now winning! He has the stranger in an vise-grip headlock. The faceless wrestler cries out to Jacob, "Let me go before the sun rises". Jacob's hunch that this was no ordinary man is confirmed. Maybe it's a trick. He tightens his grip.

Then the stranger simply touches the hollow of Jacob's thigh. Jacob is suddenly lying crippled, with a thigh muscle pulled. It's as if the stranger could have pinned his shoulders for a ten count at any time during the all-night fight. Still, Jacob holds on for dear life, even though his adversary could probably pin him with his little finger.

When the wrestling is over and done Jacob will realize that he did not wrestle an ordinary man. He will realize that when he looked into the face of the stranger, what he saw was in reality the face of God. It was as if God was the one who had been trying to wrestle something out of Jacob.

You know what I mean. It's like when God wrestles a new character or future out of your own Iife when you struggle through difficult relationships, decisions, or problem situations. You try to running away from the problem, what's ahead of you, a broken relationship, or your own inner conflicts and contradictions. But alone at night, it pounces upon you. And you have to wrestle with it. What am I supposed to do? Which way am I supposed to go? Why do I always seem to act this way? Why am I having to go through this? Where is God in my life? What is God doing with me? You wrestle with a faceless opponent. Or maybe your opponent has many faces. You can't tell whether it's the face of that friend you have been at odds with, the darker side of your own self, or the hidden face of God. And your adversary is stronger than you. But hopefully you can hang in there through the fight. Those who hold their grip through such spiritual struggles until they wrestle some meaning from them are wrestlers on par with Jacob. They come out of such struggles different persons.

"I will not let you go until you bless me," groans Jacob. Jacob has recognized that his opponent is more than a mere human. "What is your name?" grunts the stranger. "Jacob", he responds. He admits who he is. His name is his character. Jacob confesses. I am a trickster, a cheat, a conniver. Only by confessing his name, who he really is, can he become who he is supposed to be. Only as we admit that we have been cheaters, liars, manipulators, cowards, and complainers will we become who we are supposed to be. First, we have to own up to our name, who we, in all honesty, really are. For if we don't our shadow self may just leap out at us some night while we are all alone and wrestle us to the ground.

Because Jacob overcomes through the struggle, he receives a new name. No longer will his name or his character be Jacob, the trickster. His name, and his character, will be Israel, Godwrestler. The transformation of his character is the blessing which he sought. Jacob has wrestled with himself, with his past, with his future, with his relationships, and with God. That old life of conniving and running that haunted him in his dreams leaves with the rising of the sun.

The new day will even see Jacob's fears of Esau blow away like a puff of smoke. Jacob and Esau on the other side of the river and end up in a bear hug. Not in a wrestling match, but with Esau embracing Jacob and showering him with tears, kisses, forgiveness, and blessings. Was this the one he thought to be the faceless adversary the last evening? No. And yes. It was Esau that Jacob wrestled. It was himself that he wrestled. But more than himself and Esau. For as Jacob looked into Esau's forgiving face Jacob said that it was like looking directly into the face of God.

Jacob limps away from the ring with one arm around Esau. He has fought the good fight. He has kept the faith. And he carries with him a battle wound. It is the mark that anyone who has encountered God as deeply as Jacob carries in themselves. It is the painful memory of struggles with ourselves and our relationships. Or the scars from our battles with God. When we make it through such personal and spiritual struggles or come through such dramatic turning points in life, we walk away wounded, limping. As Jesus limped out of the tomb on Easter, bearing in his body the scars of his great struggle and victory. And we can never go back to being that person we used to be. We have a new name, a new character, a new destiny. God, our beloved adversary, has wrestled it out of us. And our wound is a reminder to us of
how weak is our strength in the face of God's awesome power.

We know the place where Jacob wrestled. We repeat his story, again and again. Somewhere wrestlers are grappling in the dark. Someone is struggling with a shadowy figure. A defeat .is turned into a victory by God's hand. A new name is given. And a lone figure limps away as the sun dawns on a new day.