Love: The Unfolding Story

Hebrews 10:19-25; Mark 13:1-8

     During Sunday school, a teacher asked the children, “Tell me a story about Jesus” hoping to hear something profound. They had just finished a lesson on Jesus’ miracles, and little voices began to buzz.  One boy named Timmy raised his hand and said, “In my story, Jesus is like… a superhero! Except he doesn’t wear a cape or fly. But he can walk on water, and he can heal people! And he’s, like, super kind. And he’s friends with everybody, even the ones nobody likes.” The teacher smiled. Then, a girl named Emma chimed in, “In my story, Jesus is the boss of everybody, but the nice kind of boss. My mom says we talk to him in prayers, so it’s like our boss is always on the phone with us.”  Just then, a younger boy, Max, piped up with excitement. “In Jesus’ story, he makes bread and fish multiply! In my story, Jesus could feed, like, a gazillion people with just one sandwich!”  Everyone giggled at the imaginative storylines. And then, a quiet girl in the back, Lily, raised her hand. Lily said, “In my story, Jesus is a light. Like, in the dark when you have nightlight. He shines in the night and keeps me from being afraid. I think Jesus is like that. He makes me feel safe.”[1]

     Each child was sure they understood exactly who Jesus was. I read the Hebrews passage aloud with Harris and Madison last week and we all joked about just reading it over and over again in worship today because how could you improve on that encouragement from the writer of Hebrews? The writer shares their description of Jesus. In their Jesus-story, he is our high priest, meaning an intermediary who connects us to God – a conduit of peace, a channel of love that flows both ways. The writer calls him a curtain, not the kind that hides from view, but an opening to “a new and living way.” The writer of Hebrews is unknown. Scholars have speculated about who it might be – Paul perhaps, or Apollos (an apostle in Acts); Barnabas maybe (one of Pauls’ fellow missionaries); or even Priscilla (she was a teacher in the early church). Barnabas gets my vote… He was a Levite, part of the priestly order. This might explain the letter’s emphasis on priesthood and temple worship. Tertullian, an early church father, suggested Barnabas could be the author of the letter to the Hebrews. But Barnabas’ name means “son of encouragement.” And that seems like the most convincing argument. Who but a son of encouragement could so masterfully inspire and energize his readers to claim their own faith story and to PROclaim the power within them as Christ’s-followers.[2] The early church needed just as much encouragement as we do today. So, the writer delivers three imperatives that remind me of the way my grandmother got me to do things, “Let’s do this chore together and then it will make it fun!”

The writer of Hebrews uses three “Let us” imperatives[3] to instruct their hearers how to encourage one another in the faith. He says:

22 Let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. 23 Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

     What if we shared our Jesus-stories – that is the image of Jesus that we connect with the most – over shared meals, or cups of coffee, or while taking a walk with a buddy? Wouldn’t that “provoke one another to love and good deeds?”

Where did you first hear the stories of Jesus?

Who told them to you?

     What are the images of him that come to mind when you hear that name? Jesus. Desert wanderer. Good Teacher. Thought provoker. Fisher of people. Boat Rocker. Storm calmer. Water walker. Table tosser. Barrier breaker. Political disruptor. Change maker. Disease healer. Miracle worker. Child whisperer. Foot washer. Wine pourer. Truth teller. Blesser of bread. Cross bearer. Death defier. Life giver.

All of these. All at once. These images tell the Jesus-story.

     In the spirit of encouragement, I’ll share with you my Jesus-story from the first half of my life. In my childhood, he was a baby born in a manger, a child getting lost from his parents, but also superhero-like, a miracle worker. When I learned about the cross, he became my savior, and I went through the waters of baptism so that I would be certain about spending eternity with him. Certainty was very important back then.

     Then I became a teenager and treated him more like a trail guide. I leaned on him to point me in the right direction in relationships, everyday choices, and bigger decisions. Occasionally, I moved him to a confessional booth and poured out my sins to him in hopes of absolving my guilt, a sense of forgiveness and a fresh start.

     As a young adult, I treated Jesus much like I was treating my parents. I created distance, differentiated myself, thoughts, and beliefs from those that had been passed down to me. I was forging my own relationship to him/Jesus. The belief box I had him in wasn’t big enough anymore. I took that box all apart and left it all out on the floor where I could examine Jesus’ humanity, his divinity. Jesus’ identity, his calling, his temptation, his belovedness. Jesus’ ministry, his friends, his followers, his family, his anger, his compassion, his priorities. Then I listened to his garden of Gethsemane prayer and tried to understand how this man, son of Mary could submit himself to the authorities to be killed. And I listened to his words in another garden after his resurrection… to a group of women, the Christ, son of God called them to be the bearers of the good news. And that’s when I knew I could also be called.

     So, I went to seminary. I was living my best life… Until my oldest brother was diagnosed with cancer and it was bad. This was a new chapter in my previously, generally happy story. I was scared. This is when Jesus’ Gethsemane prayer unfolded inside my own story. Let this cup pass from him… and Lord, this better be your will! God put me in Frank Tupper’s Doctrine of Providence class and for better or worse, I lived and breathed “why bad things happen to good people” as a seminarian preparing for ministry. And also as a daughter of two devastated parents and a younger sister of my dying brother. I was a newlywed. My heart was supposed to be full of love and joy… And it was. But at the end of three years fighting the good fight, my brother died and part of my heart was broken. I sealed it off and kept it hidden. I did not want to be the 25yr old girl whose brother just died. I wanted to be the young bride figuring out life with her adorable husband.

At this point, my Jesus box was all still scattered all over the floor. Certainty was out the window. I didn’t stop believing in God. But I didn’t fully trust God anymore either. And I wasn’t sure that I or my box could be collected and put back together.

     By this time, we had moved 10hrs from our hometowns to start fresh in a new seminary where women were affirmed in all calls to ministry; where the Bible was mined for meaning and believed to be a living word rather than drilled for beliefs in an inerrant sword. The professors had all been wounded and exiled by other Southern Baptist seminaries (just like us). This new seminary was an oasis where the wounded Christian, no longer certain, could begin to put their Jesus box back together. The professors taught me to pay attention to my own spirit and to sit in silence, to simply be in the presence of God. They allowed me to wonder and question. They inspired us to see that Love is God and God is Love; that we were all made in the image of God, siblings with Jesus, Beloved community. This is where I started the next chapter of my faith story – The Hope of Resurrection. If Jesus was the cross-bearing, death defying, life-giving Christ, that meant resurrection (life!) is always possible after every dark day, every curtain rending, every temple crumbling. This is when I started putting myself and the pieces of my own faith back together. Funny thing, they didn’t fit together the same way anymore. The ideas, meaning, and beliefs had all been refined. And like a puzzle missing the last piece, It doesn’t seem like I will ever have all the pieces to complete my Jesus box. Which means my faith story is still unfolding. And I’m okay with that.

Tell me the story of Jesus, write on my heart every word. Tell me the story most precious, sweetest that ever was heard. Love in that story, so tender, clearer than ever I see; stay, let me weep while you whisper, “Love paid the ransom for me.”

     I have shared with you part of my Jesus-story in a confessional way today because I believe it will be through our shared vulnerability that God will crack us open and fill us with Light and Love. The world is too small for anything but Love. When things fall apart, when chaos and fracture surround us, let us provoke one another to love.

     When fear and anger rule, we can choose to stay faithful to love. Not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching. May it be so.

[1] Adapted Text generated by ChatGPT, Nov 15, 2024, OpenAI, https://chat.openai.com

[2] Anderson, T. Denise Sunday’s Coming Christian Century Hebrews 10:11-25

[3] Long, Thomas G. Hebrews Interpretation Commentary series ©1997