Note: January 6, the day of Epiphany, begins a season in the Church calendar also called Epiphany (or Epiphany Season). For a Surprising God article explaining its meaning, click here.

Scripture Readings
Isa. 60:1-6 • Ps. 72:1-7, 10-14 • Eph. 3:1-12 • Matt. 2:1-12

A Light to Follow

(Matthew 2:1-12, NRSV)

Note to preacher: As an introduction, you might show the Visual Bible video enactment of the Magi's visit as recorded in Matthew's Gospel. To find it online, click here (and continue to 10:05).

You’ve no doubt heard the story of the three wise men, the Magi, come from the East to visit the newborn Jesus. Some of the ways the story is traditionally told are inaccurate. For example, the Bible does not say how many Magi there were, though it mentions three gifts they brought. Neither does the Bible say anything about these men, except that they were wise and came from the East. It does say they were following a star. As a result, some speculate they were astronomers or astrologers. Others say they were kings. These details are not important, because the story in Matthew is not really about the Magi and their identity, it’s about Jesus and his identity.

Matthew’s story of the Magi is traditionally told today, the first Sunday in the season called Epiphany. In the annual worship calendar, presented in the Revised Common Lectionary, Epiphany is both a day (January 6 each year) and a season that begins January 6 (following the 12 days of Christmas) and continues to the first Sunday in Lent (March 10 this year).

The word “epiphany” means “revelation” or “manifestation.” Matthew’s account of the Magi’s visit to Jesus is about the manifestation of Jesus to the Gentile world. In this and other stories from the Gospels read during the season of Epiphany, we are reminded of the great truth concerning Jesus’ true identity, which then points to the revelation of God’s true nature. We also are reminded of who we are, in Christ.

It is appropriate that our first story for Epiphany, the story of the Magi, takes place, traditionally, at night. What has been hidden to our sight is now coming to light:

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” (Matt. 2:1-2, NRSV)

Note that this event takes place “in the time of King Herod” and also after Jesus had come. The stories of our own lives also fall under this tension of overlapping times. We live “in this present evil time” (under our own “Herods,” if you will) and at the same time, the time after Jesus has come and inaugurated the kingdom of God. This living “between-the-times” presents a tension that we experience as we follow Jesus in this present age. It is thus not surprising that we find ourselves, like the wise men, with many questions.

The questions being asked by the Magi focus on the when and where of Jesus. Our questions typically concern how and why. The apparent simultaneous reign of two kings in the same region doesn’t always give clear answers. But answering the question as to which of these kings is worthy of our worship will ultimately be found in the answer to the who question: Who is the one the wise men came to see? Matthew gives us a bit of foreshadowing in Herod’s response after hearing of Jesus’ birth:

When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. (Matt. 2:3-4, NRSV)

Herod, out of fear, gathers the chief priests and scribes to find a way to get rid of this upstart king. The kings of this world, who want to protect their control and power, are always fearful of “rising stars.” (We see this evil alignment developing again, when years later the chief priests and scribes conspire to kill Jesus.)

They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” (Matt. 2:5-6, NRSV)

Herod, hiding behind false humility, calculates how to get rid of this newborn king. In doing so, he inadvertently provides to the Magi a hearing of the Jewish scriptures. In case we think this story tells us that all roads lead to Jesus, these Gentile travelers do not find Jesus until after a hearing of the words “written by the prophet.” It is only after that hearing that they find the answer to Jesus’ location. God will walk down any road we are on, and he can get our attention using things like astrology, mythology, science or nature, but in the end, he brings us to know him through his word.

That understanding brings us to an epiphany from our story: God calls everyone to himself. He did not choose the Jews to exclude the rest of the nations. He chose them as a way to include the whole world.

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. (Matt. 2:9-10, NRSV)

The appearance of the Magi signals that all are welcome in Jesus’ kingdom. When they arrived in Bethlehem, the star they followed “stopped” and they “were overwhelmed with joy.” In our search for Jesus, sooner or later the signs that point to him are replaced with the joy that he is near. Joy becomes our new guide, leading us to enter his home where we see Jesus.

On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. (Matt. 2:11, NRSV)

When the Magi enter the house, they not only see Jesus, but see him “with Mary his mother.” This is another epiphany: God is a God of relationship. Jesus doesn’t drop out of the sky like Thor or an alien invader. He comes to us in relationship, where our identity is wrapped up in who we are with him. It is in this relational context that true worship takes place. The wise men don’t worship outside the stable. No matter how dirty it may be inside, worship takes place alongside brothers and sisters who come to “pay homage,” sharing all they have with Jesus.

And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. (Matt. 2:12, NRSV)

Matthew’s story ends with the Magi “warned in a dream” to not return to Herod. Instead they head directly to their home country. Up to this point they have done everything Herod told them to do. But after meeting Jesus, they now follow a new king, who is ushering in a new kingdom. Matthew tells us, “They left for their own country by another road.”

The question they haven’t asked has been answered. Who is this new king? He is King of kings and Lord of lords—the Lord God himself, who has humbled himself so as to exalt us in relationship with him. Like the wise men, this revelation brings forth repentance. We turn our ears from the rulers of this age and set our sights on following Jesus. Home is now found down a different road.

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Small Group Discussion Questions

Scripture Readings
Isa. 43:1-7 • Ps. 29:1-11 • Acts 8:14-17 • Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Jesus, the Demolition Artist

(Luke 3:7-17, 21-22)

Note to preacher: For the introduction you may want to show a video of a building being demolished through an explosion.

Demolition—it’s the necessary job of removing the old so that the new can come in. It involves pulling, crushing (and sometimes exploding), then removing, so that old material can make way for the new.

Demolition, particularly when it involves the use of explosives, is a delicate art. You’ve likely seen buildings demolished using explosives. It looks like an ordinary building on an ordinary day, when somewhere, deep inside the structure, there’s a jerk, then a shudder, then another, like the building is having a seizure. Then one corner of it lunges, starts to fall, and in just a moment there is a murky cloud where the building used to be. Demolition experts call this “progressive collapse.” Skillfully handled, it can happen without breaking windows in nearby structures.

A progressive collapse is the safest, fastest, and most cost-effective way to remove an old building. The use of a wrecking ball or bulldozers and other kinds of machinery is time-wasting and potentially more dangerous. The experts managing a progressive collapse use math and physics as they study the structure. They locate the support beams – those that hold the most weight – and that is where they lay the explosives. Then an ordinary button on an ordinary computer is pushed, resulting in millions of tons of concrete, glass and steel becoming a pile of dust.

What has this to do with us today? Last Sunday we entered the season of Epiphany by looking at Matthew’s story of the wise men visiting Jesus. As Epiphany proceeds, we will be reflecting on the manifestations of Jesus during his ministry, spanning the time it first began until his revelation on the mountain of transfiguration.

Reading Jesus’ words in the Gospels, it’s clear that the message he proclaimed was not about comfort or about maintaining the status quo. So radical and unsettling was his teaching, that we might call Jesus a “demolition artist.” In that regard, judgment is a common topic in his teaching as he calls for radical change. Jesus overthrows the old paradigms and ways of understanding—sometimes adjusting them, but most often demolishing them.

The Jews Jesus was addressing had lived for centuries with the Law of Moses—the ethics and practices that marked them out as God’s people. A culture had grown up around this code—sometimes out of faithfulness, sometimes out of sheer routine, sometimes out of having a sense of being an exclusive community that felt that they were better than the nations around them. Based on their reading of Scripture, they had developed a certain picture of what God’s deliverance of them as a nation would look like. They had “figured out” what God’s kingdom would be like—especially what God’s king, their Messiah, would look like when he arrived. As God’s people, they understood that they would be the privileged heirs of a physical kingdom, and would rule over other nations—the nations that had persecuted and even enslaved them throughout their history.

What they expected of the Messiah was one of the first support beams that Jesus put the dynamite under. Another was the expectation of what the kingdom would look like. He blew these expectations apart with small charges we call parables—particularly ones known as the kingdom parables, that tell what the kingdom of God is and where it is.

Jesus declared the kingdom of God to be like a story where a despised Samaritan is the hero—BOOM! The kingdom of God, he said, is like the master who pays his servants the same no matter how long they’ve worked—BAM! The kingdom of God, he said, is like the younger brother who repents and comes home, not the older brother who stayed loyal and kept all the father’s rules—KABOOM! Another expectation Jesus demolished is that God’s kingdom will come to the rich, powerful and perfect. To do so he picks a group of thieves and roughnecks to be his inner circle—BOOM!

Do you see how these parables are similar to how Jesus came into our lives? He turned our tables, shook our foundations, disrupted our neat little plans and our expectations of how things are “supposed to” go. He demolished what we had built and expected, so that he could build our lives in accordance with his plan.

We should not think that the Jews portrayed in the Gospels were uniquely sinful or full of pride. Most were devoted to God. But there is another side of the story that involved some of the religious leaders of the Jews.

There were the Sadducees who traded obedience to God for political jobs, making nice with the Romans. Some Christians in our day do likewise—compromising Christian ethics and doctrine in order to be comfortable in society and more acceptable to non-Christians.

Then there were the Jewish zealots –fundamentalists – some of whom were quite violent. Some Christians in our day are like that—they blow up abortion clinics and beat up gay people.

Then there were the Essenes—the Jewish mystics who ran away from the world and hid in caves, waiting for the end of days. Some Christians in our day are like that—you might find them in groups that shy away from engaging society at all.

But most of the Jews in Jesus’ day were strong, middle-of-the-road worshippers of the God of Israel who held onto the faith, even its more difficult truths, remaining a part of their Jewish culture. These were good citizens, solid people, the kind you wanted your daughters to marry. Included in that group were the Pharisees. Though we often view them as self-righteous bigots, the reality is that they were more faithful and observant than any of us will probably ever be. Nevertheless, Jesus reserved some of his strongest warnings for them. It’s as if Jesus gave the toughest coaching to the star athletes. His most devastating words were spoken to the best and brightest.

Jesus did this to the Pharisees to show us that ALL of us need demolition and rebuilding. ALL of us need Jesus’ explosive charges laid at the pillars and supports we’ve built up for ourselves—no matter how well-intentioned they might be.

So, Jesus the demolition artist, comes at the expectations and culture that had built up around the Law and the Prophets, and blows out the supports, piece by piece, until the whole edifice topples under its own weight. True construction, true growth and change, can’t come until the old is demolished.

Here’s a question for each us: Has Jesus ever blown out our supports? Has he ever blown up old things—old habits, old sins, self-protection—the things we’ve relied on instead of him? Has the demolition artist ever gone to work on you? He’s certainly gone to work on me!

Note to preacher: this would be a good place to share an example from your life.

There are times I thought I had it figured out—times I thought I knew how things would go, what shape my life would take, what would happen next. But Jesus didn’t seem too concerned about my thoughts on the matter. He sent in the demolition crew, attached an explosive charge to the foundations of my pride and presumption and BOOM! As the structures of pride, ignorance and even arrogance fell, and the smoke cleared, I could get a glimpse of God’s amazing plan for my life. And what a plan is was, and is!

Let’s go now to our reading in Luke. To get the context, we’ll start in verse 7 where John the Baptist addresses the crowd:

John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”

“What should we do then?” the crowd asked. John answered, “Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”

Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?” “Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them.

Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?” He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.” (Luke 3:7-14)

If Jesus is the demolition artist, then John the Baptist is his wiry, tough, fast-moving assistant—the one who finds the supports in the structure and marks them with chalk so Jesus can come along with the heavy artillery.

John is addressing everyday people who feel spiritual hunger and thirst, people whose hearts are in some measure tenderized by God. John points out their everyday sins—the ones most everyone commits. He points out that their surplus of food and goods belong to the poor. Sure John, but doesn’t everyone keep a little extra for themselves? John then points out that the “accepted” evils of the tax collector culture, skimming a little off the top, is also unacceptable. He points out that the “accepted” evils of the soldiers’ world—extorting people for extra cash, skimming off the top too—is also unacceptable. He is pointing out that Jesus is here to take sin out by the roots, not to merely remodel the building. Instead, Jesus will demolish it and start over from the ground up.

In our culture (even among Christians) there are “acceptable sins.” How often do we look at what the Bible lists as sin and respond with a helpless shrug—”that’s just the way things are.” Plenty of good moral people find themselves in such circumstances. John is showing us that we don’t need a slight modification of our behavior or a mere refreshing of our perspective. What we need is a new heart and soul. We need Jesus the demolition artist to take down our old concepts of righteousness and goodness and build the real thing in its place.

Luke continues:

The people were waiting expectantly and were all wondering in their hearts if John might possibly be the Messiah. John answered them all, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” (Luke 3:15-17)

Here John uses a couple of metaphors to describe what’s going on with Jesus. There is a belief among the Jews at the time that as descendants of Abraham they will be excluded from God’s judgment. But that is not the case. Everyone (Jews and Christians included) need a full change of heart. They need the re-creation that is theirs in Jesus, the Messiah. To make that point, John uses the illustration of a winnowing fork and a threshing floor.

In Jesus’ day, you had to separate the wheat from the chaff. The wheat was the kernel that could be made into bread and the chaff was the useless shell that was thrown away or burned. The threshing floor was a flat area of packed dirt where the wheat was laid out to dry. These floors were often on top of hills so the wind could blow across, blowing away the useless chaff.

When the wheat had dried, the farmer would come along with a winnowing fork or fan and throw the wheat up in the air. The remaining chaff would then blow away and the kernels of wheat would fall to the ground. This analogy here is about separating out what is useful from what is useless—the good from the bad.

For us, Jesus is the separator, the judge, the demolition artist. He has the winnowing fork in hand. I know—he’s thrown me in the air before to knock the chaff off. This was usually painful, but God used those experiences to transform me—to pull away the chaff and let the wheat—the good stuff—remain. Though painful, most of those experiences were not  dramatic—just everyday stuff. Indeed, everyday life is typically the threshing floor where Jesus meets us. I hope someday to get to the place where I recognize him in those moments as they are occurring, though even when I can’t see them, his threshing still accomplishes its goal—to cleanse and heal me.

Luke’s account continues:

When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:21-22)

Jesus, the thresher, the demolition artist, comes to John for baptism. Here’s another expectation held by many of the Jews of that day being demolished. After all, the Messiah they longed for was supposed to be a conqueror, an other-worldly figure of great strength. But here comes Jesus, asking to be baptized in a river with everyone else.

Though he did not need to repent or be cleansed, by being baptized Jesus aligned himself with all humanity—joining us in our greatest need. Everything we endure, he endured; all we fail at, he completed. He was baptized with us and for us so that we could be baptized into him. And that represents the greatest demolition of all.

Jesus took all our sins upon himself, he assumed our fallen nature, and bearing that, he destroyed sin and brought us healing. Along the way, he endured all our temptations, yet never sinned. By going to the cross he destroyed the power of death. He is, indeed, the great demolition artist and everything he destroys is so he can build it up again in him. He became one with us in order to transform us, making us his beloved brothers and sisters. Through his representative, substitute humanity, we are adopted as God’s beloved children, who, with Jesus, call God Abba, our Father.

Jesus came, lived, suffered, died and rose again to demolish all that is wrong in us and to make of us a new creation. Through the word of God and the indwelling Spirit he shows us who he really is, and thus who we really are, in him.

Conclusion

Here are some concluding thoughts about what we’ve learned about Jesus today and what that means for each of us.

Jesus is the demolition artist

Though he doesn’t use the term, C.S. Lewis talks beautifully about Jesus as the demolition artist, who says to us:

I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. … Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked—the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours. (Mere Christianity, book 4, chapter 4)

Jesus is the threshing artist

What if we saw the pain and irritation in our lives as tools in Jesus’ hands to break away that chaff so that the best in us (who we are in Christ) remains? What if we prayed, “Lord, remove the chaff, no matter the cost, I want to be all I can be in you.”

Jesus is sometimes not the Messiah we want

Jesus spent a lot of time correcting false expectations of what the Messiah would look like. Where are our expectations? Do we want Jesus to be our comfort blanket (when we see in Scripture that he is the judge and thresher)? Do we want Jesus to be the conqueror, annihilating all our enemies (when we see in Scripture that he hung out with sinners)? Do we want Jesus to always be on our side, justifying our causes (when we see in Scripture that he had the sharpest rebuke for the most “righteous” of people)? What if we prayed, “Lord, remove all my false expectations about who you are and let me see you.”

During the week ahead, I invite you to pray these prayers:

• Lord, help me fully surrender.
• Lord, remove the chaff.
• Lord, remove my false expectations.
• Lord, let me see you and what you are doing.

Note to preacher: you might end by praying these prayers on behalf of the congregation.

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Small Group Discussion Questions

Scripture Readings
Isa. 62:1-5 • Ps. 36:5-10 • 1 Cor. 12:1-11 • John 2:1-22

The Woman and the Wine

John 2:1-11 (NRSV)

Introduction

Note to preacher: Brides and grooms often fear something going wrong on their wedding day. As an introduction to this sermon, you might share about your wedding day challenges.

It’s interesting that Jesus’ first miracle came at a wedding. It’s an event that brides and grooms carefully prepare for. Because family and friends share the occasion, the last thing the couple wants is to run out of food or drink. In our Gospel reading today in the book of John, we find a newly married couple running out of wine at the wedding reception. Jesus’ mom tells the servants to go to Jesus for help.

Why the third day?

John 2:1 says this first miracle occurred “on the third day.” Why say that? In the Bible, three-day periods point to acts of divine intervention. On the third day of creation dry ground appeared and the land produced “fruit”—seed-bearing plants and trees came forth. On the third day of his burial, Jesus was resurrected, providing firstfruits of a re-creation that will involve the entire cosmos (humans included). John is likely using this three-day motif to show that the miracle of changing water into wine is to be understood as a sign pointing to the truth that Jesus is none other than the Word of God—the one who spoke and the cosmos came into being. Jesus is the Son of God, the Creator and now the re-Creator.

Was Jesus mistreating his mother?

Given that understanding, we are left wondering, why would Jesus say to his mother on this important occasion, “Woman, why do you involve me?” (John 2:4a). Was Jesus condemning her? Putting her in her place? To think so would be tantamount to embracing the lie the devil whispered to Eve in the garden of Eden (and to all women since): “You are not valuable, not cherished, not loved.” Would the Son of God dishonor his mother that way? Certainly not. Instead, by this statement, Jesus was actually ascribing to his mother great worth.

Throughout the Gospel of John, Mary is called “the mother of Jesus” never Mary. It doing so John seems to be emphasizing the fat that this particular mother is the one who gave birth to the Word of God come in human flesh (John 1:14). However, here in John 2, then later at the cross, Jesus calls his mother “woman.” In light of the connection of “on the third day” to the third day of creation, we see that John means to connect “the seed” mentioned in Genesis 3 with “the woman” who bears the Seed (Jesus) who saves the world. Note in Genesis 3 where God says this to Satan:

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel. (Gen. 3:15)

Seeing these various connections, we understand that Jesus is telling Mary that she is the fulfillment of prophecy. She is THE WOMAN whose Seed is the Savior of the world. Wanting others to understand this, Jesus exalts Mary, thus connecting her identity with his. This may explain Mary’s response to Jesus: “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5b). Mary did not respond as one who had been reprimanded, but as one no longer concerned about the problem. Understanding who Jesus is, Mary places her trust in him and in his power to solve the problem in “whatever” way he deems appropriate.

When we see our identity wrapped up in Jesus, we too are freed from the need to try to fix all the wrongs and problems that come our way. How easy it is for us to take on problems that do not belong to us! Conversely, when our identity is bound up in something that is broken, we exhaust ourselves trying to fix the problems on our own. Such attempts often lead to toxic relational entanglements, and enmeshed modes of relating.

When our identity is firmly grounded in Jesus, and in him alone, we are able to trust him in all situations without fearing any loss of value to who we truly are.

Conclusion

Jesus didn’t stop with merely solving the wine shortage problem. Through this miracle he revealed (manifested) his glory. That’s why this story is read during the season of Epiphany (the word “epiphany” means “unveiling”). In this event at Cana we have the unveiling of who Jesus is, along with the unveiling of who we are in him. In his story we find several unveilings:

Note to preacher: before going through the list below, you might ask the congregation what unveilings they see, or give each item on the list to a small group to discuss before continuing the sermon.

• God includes us. Our triune God (Father, Son and Spirit) has existed for all eternity in a relationship of sharing. God created us to be adopted into that triune communion. Jesus could have just made wine appear. Instead he involved the servants.
• God is working in us to bring the best out of us. Our brokenness and emptiness do not prevent Jesus from producing the best fruits—the “finest wine”—that he intends for us to be.
• God doesn’t hold back. 180 gallons of wine is more than enough for a wedding celebration. In Jesus, God shares himself with us in abundance. We will never be lacking.
• Jesus honors relationships. Jesus replaces our empty works of religion with an abundant life of relationship. The wedding celebration was saved, as was the family’s reputation.
• Jesus works with what we have and where we are. He doesn’t need super-charged holy water to work his miracle. Dirty cleaning water will do. We can give him, up to the brim, what we have; who we are.
• Jesus shares his work with his servants. When we participate with him we come to know him, and his Father’s plan and purposes for us even more.
• Since Jesus is the one working we can boldly participate in what he is up to. Mary and the servants were willing to do “whatever” Jesus asked.

As we participate in faith with what Jesus is doing with us and through us, we will grow in our trust and knowledge of him. As Jesus continues to reveal to us who the Father is, like the disciples we too can “believe in him.” What does that belief look like for you today? What has Jesus invited you to participate in (corporately; personally)? What will you respond?

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Small Group Discussion Questions

Scripture Readings
Neh. 8:1-10 • Ps. 19:1-14 • 1 Cor. 12:12-31a • Luke 4:14-21

Jesus’ Inaugural Address

(Luke 4:14-30)

Note to preacher: For the introduction you might talk about inaugural addresses you’ve heard---ones with hollow promises concerning what the speaker says they will do, all the while knowing they won’t or can’t.

During the season of Epiphany, most of our Gospel readings focus on the early part of Jesus’ public ministry, showing him taking aim at the idols people worship. Much like explosions purposefully set to demolish a building, Jesus demolishes our idolatrous temple.

Two weeks ago, in Luke 3, we heard John the Baptist calling the people of God, the Jews, to repentance—not just repenting of idolatrous practices, but the idolatrous content of their hearts. BOOM! Our self-righteousness is blown to bits.

Then last week, in John 2, we saw Jesus demolish expectations by his focus on relationships when he turned water into wine at a wedding party. BOOM! Our self-centered agendas come tumbling down.

Today, the demolition continues. In our reading in Luke 4, Jesus takes aim at the idolatry of exclusivity. He tears down our human tendency to be judgmental—to determine who is “in” and who is “out.” He topples our understanding of who the deplorables are as compared to God’s favorites. BOOM! Any idea of “us versus them” comes tumbling down.

Some context will help here: The Jews of that time believed God would deliver them by destroying their enemies—particularly the Roman occupiers. Based on their reading of the Old Testament, they saw this deliverance as largely physical and political, with Israel being exalted among the nations as God’s favorite. From that perspective, the rest of the world could, quite literally, be damned.

In a rather shocking way, Jesus comes into town, railing against this attitude of exclusivity. Let’s look at Luke, chapter 4:

Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside. He was teaching in their synagogues, and everyone praised him. (Luke 4:14-15)

Jesus had just gone through a time of severe testing—a time when he was emptied so that he could be filled with the Holy Spirit as he begins his public ministry. Now, in the power of the Spirit he comes teaching:

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:16-21)

Jesus was doing what visiting rabbis were invited to do: read from the scroll of Scripture, then offer  a short sermon as commentary. But something is different here. The congregation is aware of this Jesus guy, and what he has been up to. Word had spread far and wide about his teaching. And here they were, waiting for him to say something clever.

You can imagine their shock when, after reading a passage from Isaiah, Jesus then declares, “It’s about me—what Isaiah prophesied is now happening!”

BOOM! Another support beam blown up. Jesus was reading about God’s great deliverance of Israel—the deliverance they are all waiting for. Yet, he makes it sound dramatically different from anything they thought it would be.

Jesus is talking about those who are the undesirable, those who are broken and on the margins: the blind, the poor, the prisoners, the oppressed. Luke’s Gospel often talks about Jesus’ special love for the poor and downtrodden. But the definition of “poor” here is wider than that. It describes those who are of low social status in that society: women, children, disabled people, the blind. Here Jesus is stating that the vision of God’s kingdom starts with and always includes such people.

One commentator refers to Jesus’ declaration here as his “inaugural address.” Newly elected presidents, in their inaugural addresses set forth their vision for what their time in office will look like. Rather than talking about specific plans, they tend to focus on the tone and themes for their time in office. They might emphasize national unity, economic recovery, or foreign relations. But Jesus begins his public ministry by demolishing the people’s expectations of what the kingdom of God will be like. The kingdom is not for those who think they have it all together, but for those who know they are broken. That’s the bombshell here: Jesus makes it clear that he has not come to save the righteous, but sinners. He didn’t come to rain fire down on the bad guys, but to show the good guys and the bad guys that they need a Savior.

Filmmaker Mel Gibson gave himself a cameo in his movie The Passion of Christ. Rather than taking a large, heroic part, he portrayed the executioner who drove the nails into Jesus’ hands and feet. Those who know they would have been the one holding the hammer are on their way to the kingdom. But it’s easy to miss this mindset in the Western world where Christianity has been the dominant religion for centuries.

But times are changing. Though most of us remember the time when almost everyone went to church and the world stopped on Sunday, younger generations are growing up in a world where a Christian worldview is a minority position. Can we Christians approach other viewpoints with humility rather than with fear and bitterness? Can we learn to be thankful that we know Christ rather than condemning those who don’t? The saved hostage doesn’t judge those who are still imprisoned—he aches for them, prays for them, is grateful every moment that he has been rescued. Let’s let that be our attitude.

Jesus’ strongest, critical words were for the most religious people—those who think they have it all together, and so are quite unpleasant to be around. In contrast, it can be joyful and freeing to hang with people who know they don’t have it all together—folks like recovering addicts who have looked in the face of complete loss, even death, and know that every blessing in their lives is an added, undeserved bonus. They live with a certain freedom, knowing what it’s like to lose everything, knowing that they are just as capable of evil as the so-called “bad guys.”

In his inaugural address, Jesus says he is proclaiming “the year of the Lord’s favor.” In doing so, he is referencing what is addressed in the Old Testament book of Leviticus:

Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you; each of you is to return to your family property and to your own clan. The fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you; do not sow and do not reap what grows of itself or harvest the untended vines. For it is a jubilee and is to be holy for you; eat only what is taken directly from the fields. (Lev. 25:10-12)

In the year of jubilee, which occurred every 50 years, all property was to be returned to its original owners, and the land rested from being cultivated. Those who had become indentured servants due to poverty were set free. It was a year of liberation, return of property, rest and simplicity. The people were to live on what grew naturally, letting the land and the people rest. This would have been a simpler time. Wealth and competition would have been at a lull because everyone was living under the same restrictions.

Sadly, there is no record that the year of jubilee was ever kept. Yet here is Jesus proclaiming that it’s ultimate fulfillment has arrived. You see, the Sabbath day and Sabbath years pointed to the great Jubilee—the great and ultimate rest and deliverance for the people of God.

Last week in John chapter 2 we read about Jesus’ inaugural miracle—turning water into wine, the symbol and lubricant of partying. Now here in Luke 4 , Jesus gives his inaugural address, proclaiming the true Jubilee.

We are God’s people, you shall know us by our parties? By our feasting? No, Jesus is declaring that the people of God will be identified by simple joys, by starting over from ground zero. Over-complicated, hyperactive, sin-infested ways of “who owes what to whom” and “who offended whom” and “who’s winning and  who’s losing” need to be demolished, so that we can start from scratch.

The Jews in the synagogue that day were not thrilled by what Jesus declared, particularly when he, in not-so-veiled terms, went on to explain how God delivered other nations—gentile nations—instead of them:

There were many widows in Israel in Elijah’s time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon. And there were many in Israel with leprosy in the time of Elisha the prophet, yet not one of them was cleansed—only Naaman the Syrian. (Luke 4:25-27)

God cared about Naaman the Syrian—commander of Israel’s enemy? Jesus’ radical point is that the Jubilee is for everyone, for all nations. The release from oppression he declares is not just for Jews—it is release for ALL people from the most brutal tyrant of all: OURSELVES.

Incensed by Jesus’ declaration, the Jews took him to the edge of a nearby cliff, intending to kill him:

 All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this. They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff. (Luke 4:28-29)

Not long before this, Jesus had been atop the highest point of the Jerusalem temple (Luke 4:9-12), invited by the devil to throw himself down to prove his identity as the Son of God. Now Jesus stands atop a high cliff near Nazareth. At the temple, the devil twisted the words of Psalm 91 to try to tempt Jesus to show off. But Jesus refused. Now, due to his humble obedience to God, Jesus faces execution. But he is delivered, perhaps by angels:

[Jesus] walked right through the crowd and went on his way. (Luke 4:30)

Conclusion

As we ponder Jesus’ inaugural address, here are three takeaways:

•  Jesus didn’t come for those who think they have it all together, but for those who know they are broken. We would be the one holding the hammer and nails at Jesus’ crucifixion. He knows that—he’s always known it. Everything in life is extra, every blessing we have, a gift; so let’s be freshly grateful.
• We as God’s people need to be gentle with those who don’t call themselves Christians. Jesus gives several examples here of God’s mercy shed on those who are “outsiders.” He had his strongest words for the religious establishment, for the US not the THEM. Let’s continue to tell truth in love, and be known for our welcoming and hospitality, for our feasting, instead of how well we withdraw from those who are not like us. Let’s pray for others, get into their lives, be living examples of Jubilee.
• The year of Jubilee that Jesus declared has never ended. It is the year—the era in which we, through him, are released from sin, guilt and shame. Do you need that time, that Jubilee, in your life? Is there something you need to let go of? Some bitterness, some rage against someone, or against life itself? Let this be your year of Jubilee. Let this be the year when you claim God’s peace and love against all odds. Let this week be the start of you bringing Jubilee to someone close to you. Forgive, let go, love. This is what we do, and this is how we are known.

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Small Group Discussion Questions