The Cup is Full

Pentecost 10

John 6:24-35

For my children’s sermon last Sunday, I presented the children with three cups.  The first cup had no water in it.  The second cup had water in the bottom half.  The third cup had water to the rim.  I asked, “Which cup is the fullest?”   Logically, the first guess was to point to the cup containing the most water.  Wrong answer.  A small boy began to get the point when he pointed to the first cup and said, “that one…  it’s full of air.”  Still wrong.  Finally, I revealed the truth – it was a tie.  Every cup was completely full.  The first was, as the boy said, full of air.  The second cup was half full of water, and half full of air.  The final cup was full of water (with just a bit of air at the top.)  How you look at something determines what you see.

This week’s lesson follows closely on the heels of John’s telling of the Feeding of the 5000 (John 6:1-15)  Following the miraculous feeding, the people follow Jesus around the Sea of Galilee to his home in Capernaum.  They understand that he is a miracle worker.  They see a basket full of bread and want more.  What follows is a fairly complicated discussion involving works and signs and belief and priorities and the misplaced desire of the crowds.  But, when you cut through all the banter the bottom line question is this:  who do you see when you look at Jesus?   This is the central question in the Gospel of John.  It is the question John raises at the very beginning of the Gospel when he declares that Jesus is “the Word made flesh” who “dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.”  How you look at something determines what you see.

Like the people of the First Century, I think many people today – even people of faith -- have a hard time really seeing Jesus.  I know I do sometimes!  We try to domesticate Jesus.  We accept a thin, two dimensional Jesus that is easy to control, and which can be ignored if we have something better to do.  We lift him up as a miracle worker who can grant our wishes and desires if we just pray hard enough and believe faithfully enough.  We reduce him to a great religious teacher, or a moral example or a compassionate man.  But, the revelation of God?  The revelation of one who can feed the hunger within us that is deeper than any human bread can touch?   If we take that seriously it will shake our whole lives!  We’ll start seeing every cup as completely full, and, like Jesus will want to fill every cup up. 

Seeing that, truly seeing that, is not something we can do on our own.  It is the work of God.  But, when we do see it, it changes our way of looking at, well, everything.

How Could You Not?

Pentecost 9

Psalm 145

The other day, I got into a discussion with a woman at a bank about the state of the world.  (When you dress in clergy clothes, you tend to get into those conversations…)  She lamented the state of things.  She never got specific, but she went on and on about how the world was in worse condition than it ever has been.  Society, she said, is coming apart at the seams.  Things seem out of control.  People just don’t seem to care anymore.  She said she hoped that Jesus returned soon, because, in her opinion, the world as it stands is hopeless.

The next day, in a bible study, another woman described a conversation she had with a man who said he no longer believed in God because of the state of the world.  “How can you believe in a God of love when the world is such a mess?”  He asked her.

“How can you not?”  The woman had responded.

In a way, I think she managed to sum up Psalm 145 in one line.  It is a Psalm of unreserved praise for the Lord who is said to be gracious, merciful, and abounding in steadfast love.  The Psalmist says God lifts us up when we fall, provides us with food and satisfies our desires.  God is celebrated as just and compassionate and good to all.   It’s quite a statement when laid over and against the history of God’s people.  The scriptures tell us story after story of the struggles of Israel and Judah.  The prophets decry the injustice and oppression they see in the world.  With all they went through, how could the people of Israel and Judah continue to believe and confess in a God of steadfast love and compassion?

How could they not?

Was the writer of Psalm 145 just ignoring the harsh realities of life?  I don’t think so.  Instead, I think the Psalmist is lifting up a vision of God’s Reign, of God’s hope for God’s creation, of a future God is always preparing for God’s people that is so powerful as to be present even in the midst of the suffering and pain of a broken world.

It’s the very same vision that Jesus embodied and lived.  Jesus spoke regularly about the Reign of God.  It was the core of his message.  In him, the Kingdom of compassion, mercy, grace and love the Psalmist envisions broke into the world.  Jesus’ life, death and resurrection reflected it’s truth and it’s power.  In Jesus, we see how life – God’s life – is always more powerful than pain, or suffering, or injustice, or violence or even death itself.  Jesus invites us to participate in this Reign of God.  Jesus invites us to live in the power and praise of God’s compassion, mercy and grace.  Jesus invites us to live out of the Psalmist’s vision of a world where all are lifted up, where all are fed and cared for, and where justice and compassion reign.  In a world of suffering and sorrow like ours,  how could we not?

After the woman at the bank finished sharing her hopeless lament with me,  I told her about my experiences at the ELCA National Youth Gathering last week.  I described my experience of 30,000 youth, praising God, praying, learning and, serving together.  To me, that was a powerful sign of the truth the Psalmist celebrates.  Sadly, I’m not sure she could see it.

It is easy, I think, for the state of the world and the struggles of the people we are called to serve to get us down, overwhelm us with their magnitude and crush us with hopelessness and doubt.  But the Psalmist’s words remind us that God is active and present in our world, even if we cannot always see that clearly, and call us to put our faith and our trust in the promise of that presence.

How could we not?