The Thin Places

I reached a milestone this week. I actually cleaned my office. It took my quitting to finally motivate me to do it, but whatever works, right? It’s funny the found objects you come across during an overdue cleaning. Sometimes the simplest things can conjure up the most vivid of memories: an old bulletin, some photographs, a book, a birthday card. “Do you remember this?” was something Lamont and I said quite often to each other these last few days.

This Irish sometimes speak of “the thin places.” That’s how they describe those holy places where they feel like the veil separating heaven and earth is at it thinnest. I think that it’s appropriate that we’re down here in the basement this morning, because this room is significant in the history of church. In it we’ve prayed and played. We’ve celebrated birthdays and celebrated Christ. We’ve seen lives mended and the occasional piece of furniture broken. We’ve shared food and more importantly, we’ve shared our very lives in this thin space. If these walls could speak…

Eight years ago, L-- cornered me and asked me if I would help him with youth group. I thanked him for asking me but quickly added that I wasn’t really didn’t like young people that much and couldn’t imagine what I could do. Well, he persisted, and my wife and I found ourselves in this room for Reality: Live every Friday night. A year or two later he had to go on a conference one Friday and scheduled me for the devotional. I tried to convince him to cancel the meeting because I couldn’t possibly stand up in front of people and talk! But despite my best efforts to sabotage the schedule I found myself giving a ten-minute talk to ten high school students. The building didn’t cave in or anything.

I guess I’m not much of a prophet. And maybe that’s a good thing. A friend of mine once said that if God had handed him a roadmap to his life and ministry when he was a young man he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to get out of bed, much less fulfill his destiny! Jesus’ friends once caught a glimpse of the future and it ended up creating more questions than answers.

Some of his disciples were remarking about how the temple was adorned with beautiful stones and with gifts dedicated to God. But Jesus said, "As for what you see here, the time will come when not one stone will be left on another; every one of them will be thrown down." (Luke 21: 5 – 6)

Have you ever had one of those moments where the rug was pulled out from under you? Maybe it was a boss saying you’re fired, or a lover saying I’m moving out, or a doctor saying that the test came back positive. In just one sentence, all security is gone and a dozen questions about the future come bubbling up to the surface. That’s how the disciples would have felt when Jesus casually mentions that the temple is coming down like a house of cards. The temple, after all, was the center of Jewish religious life. Actually, it was more than that—it was the very symbol of their national identity.

I suppose that the shock hit them on two different levels. First, there was the spiritual matter—if God’s temple could be reduced to rubble, where would that leave God? Their other concern would be of a much more earthly nature: how will we be a nation without the temple? The disciples would have learned as children that the first temple—the one Solomon built—had been destroyed in a foreign invasion hundreds of years earlier. If that weren’t bad enough, at that same time their ancestors had been carted off into slavery. So Jesus’ casual remark would have been terribly disturbing to people already jittery from the Roman chokehold on their country.

"Teacher," they asked, "when will these things happen? And what will be the sign that they are about to take place?" (Luke 21: 7)

We ask that same question today. We ask it when we read a Left Behind novel, we ask it when we read our morning horoscope, we ask it when we watch commentators on television give their opinions on international events. The radio this morning told me that I need to be worried about terrorism, the economy, household chemicals, and eating too much red meat. It’s no wonder that we muddle through our lives of quiet desperation looking to something—anything—that offers some reasurence.

He replied: "Watch out that you are not deceived. For many will come in my name, claiming, 'I am he,' and, 'The time is near.' Do not follow them. When you hear of wars and revolutions, do not be frightened. These things must happen first, but the end will not come right away. Then he said to them: "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven.” (Luke 21: 8 – 11)

I find it interesting that no matter what culture or religion, the End Times always comes out looking like an Irwin Allen disaster movie. But wars, revolutions, and disasters have always been and are very much part of the story of mankind. Jesus tells his disciples not to be frightened about these, which I think is a lot easier said than done. What Jesus is much more concerned about is that his friends might be deceived by false teachers who would take advantage of their anxiety. It’s a very real threat. Throughout history, there are examples of people who were convinced that the world was coming to an imminent end who sold their possessions, quit their jobs, and basically became useless to anyone.

Books and movies about the End Times are big business right now. And I’m not sure if that’s a positive trend. Do we allow an end times theology to justify our disengagement with the very present troubles of this world—hunger, the environment, people who don’t know Christ—because, after all, there’s no point because we’re not going to be here much longer anyway? Christians argue about the timing of the Great Tribulation when there are people all around us snared in their own very present tribulations.

"But before all this, they will lay hands on you and persecute you. They will deliver you to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name. This will result in your being witnesses to them. But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. All men will hate you because of me. But not a hair of your head will perish. By standing firm you will gain life. (Luke 21: 12 – 19)

At this point the disciples probably wished that they hadn’t brought up the subject of the temple in the first place. Jesus tells them that because of their association with him, they will be harassed and betrayed by just about everyone. And he tells them to do something that I think must have come as a surprise to his friends. Instead of telling them to take a hint and head for the hills, he instructs them to “stay the course” because it’s only by doing so that they’ll really experience a life worth living.

That day Jesus described this to his friends using words. Just a few days later Jesus demonstrated it with his life. His fans decided his fifteen minutes of fame was up and turned against him. He was the victim of a religious hierarchy out of control and an indifferent government. Stripped of all human dignity, abused and beaten, and finally nailed to two pieces of wood in a public execution, Jesus did something remarkable: he took the worst of what the dark magic of the human heart can conjure—all the rage, and bloodlust, and fear, and prejudice, and indifference—and rejected it. In fact, he rejected the very notion of death itself.

The dark forces of this world hated Jesus—they crucified him. And as his followers, we find ourselves enmeshed in the same kind of conflicts both great and small. But we have the wonderful promise that the Christ is with us, even in those moments that when we’re being hit the hardest or feel the most inadequate. And that is enough.

You don’t need to buy a paperback to find out about Christ’s coming. Just move out among the people you know with compassion and love and you’ll be surprised to see Christ there among them. I’ve been amazed to see Christ show up in the strangest places. He’s been there at the hospital in the maternity ward and the terminal ward. He’s walked around the woods with young people at Camp Longpoint. He’s pulled a chair up at the table at Applebee’s during after youth group snacks. He’s been there in our conversation and our volunteer activities. He’s here this morning in a “thin place” that looks like a dinghy church basement. And for the last five years he’s been at work in a unique, special group of people who called themselves Gen-Next.