The Second Sunday in Lent

“The Problem With Being A Prophet”

Luke 13:31-35

Listen to This Sermon!

One of our church members who recently returned from Florida told me he thought it strange that we are now in the season of Lent. Last time he was here, it was Advent! He said, “It seems like just yesterday we were celebrating Jesus’ birth. Now - all of a sudden - we’re facing his death.”

That’s a brilliant observation! We Christians have a faith that centers on the death and resurrection of Jesus. We may sing Christmas carols about the baby in the manger, but a short while later, we’ll always come back to the Savior on the cross. We will preach about excited crowds shouting, “Hosanna!” as Jesus comes to town. But give it a day or two and the crowd will be shouting, “Crucify him!”

A diagram of our faith might look something like a wagon wheel. There are many wonderful stories and experiences and teachings around the circumference of the wheel, but all the spokes lead from those beautiful things on the outside to the sobering reality at the center, which is the death and resurrection of Jesus – the very hub of our faith. We are never very far from it. Our 8 o’clock service begins with praise but ends at the Communion Table where we remember Jesus’ Last Supper. At 10:30, three Sundays out of the month, we enjoy beautiful and uplifting worship services, but on the first Sunday we break the bread that is Christ’s body and drink the wine that is Christ’s blood. We can glance around the sanctuary and see the beautiful stained glass windows, and colorfully robed choir, and all the wonderful decorations in their seasonal colors – but at the center of them all is the cross…and the cross…and the cross.

Perhaps it is because death is never far removed from life, and our faith is merely a reflection of how things really are in the world. And perhaps it is because faith has more to do with dying than we may realize. Did you see it in the lesson just read from Luke 13?

“Jesus, get out of here while you still have a chance! Go somewhere else! Herod wants to kill you.”

All I can say is that, if it was me, I would have packed my bags and gotten out of town as fast as my little legs could carry me! Being a Christian should not be a death-defying activity. It should not rank right up there on the danger scale with base-jumping off a skyscraper, or running with the bulls, or riding with Evil Kneivel on the back of his rocket-powered motorcycle over the grand canyon! Being faithful should be an enterprise that produces good feelings and new friends – not bad feelings and enemies who’d just as soon see you dead.

“Leave this place, Jesus, and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you.”

Now there is an irony in this passage that is not very obvious, but is sort of funny. The Pharisees who are speaking to Jesus are not his greatest fans, you know. They think Jesus is everything a Messiah shouldn’t be! In fact, he CANNOT be the Messiah because he violates the Sabbath law, and hangs around with people who are the scum of the earth. Jesus seems to like the unrighteous much more than he likes the righteous. And they are righteous! So they don’t like Jesus!

But here he is, out in a region called Perea, doing his thing – loving the unlovable, healing the broken, casting out demons, and preaching about how the Kingdom of God is a whole lot better and different than the kingdoms we human beings create. And the poor people, and the marginalized people, and all the people those righteous Pharisees see as sinful people, love Jesus. The judgmental religion of Phariseeism breaks into pieces when invaded by the gracious and unconditional love of the Gospel of Jesus. Tax collectors, sinners, prostitutes and all those who’d never pass through the doors of a church – and who wouldn’t be let in if they tried – flock to Jesus.

So the Pharisees say, “Jesus, leave this place and go someplace else. Herod wants to kill you.”

But they are not thinking about Jesus’ health. They are thinking about their own. They want him out of town. And so they offer the threat of Herod killing him as a scare tactic.

And then comes that not-so-obvious irony I mentioned. Jesus says to them, “I’m not going to stop doing what I’m doing just because I might get killed…” listen now! – “…because I have to go to Jerusalem and get killed.”

It is a kind of comic moment. Almost like a routine from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour where Larry The Cable Guy tells the story of how his girlfriend wants him to drive her three hours to go to a doll store. He says, “Uh-uh! Forget it! No way I’m driving three hours to go to a stupid doll store!”

Then he says, “So there we are at the doll store…!”

“I’m not leaving here because I might get killed…because I gotta go get killed!” Jesus says. He’s no Larry the Cable Guy, but that line is bluecollar comedy if I’ve ever heard it.

Now I’m sure the Pharisees were left scratching their heads on that one, but Jesus wasn’t really trying to be either crafty or funny. He was simply acknowledging a great and painful truth.

The problem with being a prophet is that prophets almost always get killed.

I once heard Will Campbell say of the Civil Rights movement something along the line of how most of us joined the movement long after the heroes were safely dead. What a line! He was making the point that most of us are not willing to get up and take a stand on an issue of injustice because we are afraid of what we’ll lose – perhaps our friends, our standing in the community, our job, our family, or even our lives. So we wait until the true heroes pave the way with their blood and their lives, and once they’re safely dead and its safe enough to do so, the rest of us climb on board.

The problem with being a prophet is that prophets almost always get killed.

Isaiah, the great Old Testament prophet, was sawn in half. Not my idea of a good time! Why was he killed? Because he stood up to the government and the religious establishment and became the voice of God to them. Isaiah called them out for neglecting the poor, the widows, the single mothers trying to raise kids on their own. If the government didn’t change tax policies toward the underclass, if economic growth was left to occur by the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, and if the religious establishment didn’t have the guts to stand up for the people God is most concerned about, the nation would be destroyed. That’s what Isaiah proclaimed in the name of God. So they killed Isaiah. Sawed him in half.

That’s the problem with being a prophet. Prophets almost always get killed.

Amos, who condemned social injustice in the form of cheaters, profiteers, corrupt government officials, and all those who use their position of power to treat the poor unfairly; Micah, whose famous words still ring today, “God has told you, O human, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”; Jeremiah…”This is what the LORD says: Judge fairly, and do what is right. Rescue those who have been robbed from those who oppress them. Don't mistreat aliens, orphans, or widows, and don't oppress them….”

All these prophets were killed, and many others. That’s why Jesus continues with these prophetic words:

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing. Look, your house is left to you desolate…”

And, of course, Jesus went to Jerusalem and WAS killed. That’s the problem with being a prophet speaking to society in the name of God.

Lent is one of those times when God brings us back to the Gospel.

Not the gospel of ease and comfort. Not the prosperity gospel. Not the gospel of personal salvation. Not the gospel of popularity and church growth. Not the gospel of self-improvement and fulfillment.

The Gospel that Lent brings us back to is the kind of Gospel that can get you killed. Lent brings us back to the Gospel of justice.

Let me say that differently. The Gospel that God brings us back to during Lent is the Gospel of making the world a better place for EVERYONE, and most especially for those for whom the world is not a good place right now.

Lent focuses us on Jesus’ ministry to the lost, the neglected, the taken-advantage-of people of this world, and calls us to risk rising up and taking a stand, to become God’s voice, to become prophetic in their behalf.

And its not easy. And its not a popular thing to do.

There are very few prophetic churches in the world today. Most are more concerned about their own growth than about justice. You will hear many more sermons on how to become a successful person than on how to create a just society that offers accessible health care for everyone.  Someone has said that the church today is like the local swimming pool – all the noise is coming out of the shallow end. A shallow gospel produces shallow Christians and shallow Christians may make a lot of noise – but they don’t bring justice to the poor.

What about us? What end of the pool are we swimming in? What kind of church do we want to be? That’s one of the questions Lent poses as we watch Jesus go to the cross.

My prayer is that we will want to be a church whose eyes are able to see beyond ourselves – to see a world full of children who need hope and opportunity, and their parents who often languish under the weight of poverty, unfortunate circumstance, and injustice. My prayer is that we will see – with Isaiah and Jeremiah and all the prophets – the plight of the poor, the widows and the orphans of our world.

And that seeing them, we would hear God’s call, and have the guts to stand up for them!

It will not be easy. It will not be without pain and loss.

There’s a problem with being a prophet. It can get you nailed to a cross..

But the way of the cross is the only way to experience the powerful truth of Psalm 27:

“The LORD is my strength and my salvation,

whom shall I fear?”

And the way of the cross is the only way to the glory of Easter.