Pastor
Steve Geiger Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hebrews 12:18-24
18 You have not come to a mountain that can be
touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; 19 to a
trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged
that no further word be spoken to them, 20 because they could not bear what was
commanded: “If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned.” 21 The
sight was so terrifying that Moses said, “I am trembling with fear.”
22 But you have come to Mount Zion, to the
heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon
thousands of angels in joyful assembly, 23 to the church of the firstborn,
whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men,
to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, 24 to Jesus the mediator of a new
covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood
of Abel.
The
Storm Has Passed Hebrews
12:18-24
1.
Earthly Sinai brought terror
2.
Heavenly Jerusalem promises joy
Where
would you rather be today—Miami or San Diego?
On
most days you’d have to think about that.
Today, if you’ve been watching the news, your decision will take no
time. You have a choice between a
Category 2 hurricane that is crawling and pummeling, its winds whipping at over
100 miles per hour, or bright and sunny and calm skies, temperatures in the 70s
with no danger in sight.
On
a day like today, you want nothing to do with Miami. In Miami there is only dread for a storm coming, now arrived.
Storms
terrify because storms bring destruction.
Are
you living expecting a storm? Do you
live with a sense of dread, imagining that something bad is going to
happen? You don’t know what it is, but
something bad is going to happen. Even
when everything is going well, you always wonder whether that will change. Life for you is full of fears. Suspecting that in God you have not a
friend, but an enemy. Right now you may
not know why you feel that way. All you
know is that you’re not very excited about life. You’re not really excited to serve God. You’re not passionately interested in making peace with those
who’ve hurt you, living a holy life as God gives you strength.
What
may be happening? Is it possible that
you feel it’s too late for you? That
God’s grace is not enough for you.
Something you’ve done recently is really bothering your conscience. You can’t forget it. It haunts at the oddest moments. You beat yourself up because of it. To hear of Jesus . . . you’re sure that’s
not enough for what you need.
What
may be happening? Is it possible that
someone has done something to you, and you are bitter? Whether intentional or not, their action
hurt you, and it feels like a constant needle in your side. You are letting that bitterness grow. You say things that show your anger. You make it clear you aren’t happy. Your growing bitterness is touching
others. Staining them. You share your anger with others, hoping
they will join you.
What
may be happening? Is it possible that
you’ve given up? You’ve tasted the pains
of life and feel that God’s promises for you are worthless. You figure, “Why not get from this earth any
joys I can while I can?” Sexual
immorality becomes not something to flee from, but something to flee to. You find escape in lust. Or, owning and enjoying temporary treasures
becomes your passion. You find escape
in buying things—shopping for something you know you don’t need, and maybe deep
down don’t even want, but you think that if you have it, you just might find
happiness.
What
may be happening? Have you decided that
nothing but a storm can be coming? Do
you feel that God’s grace can’t be yours?
Is bitterness planted and growing inside? Have you given up and tried to get momentary tastes of forbidden
fruits? So that all the more, you kind
of feel like a storm is coming?
I
know it may seem like there’s no way out.
You may feel that life is so hopeless that Spiritual Hurricane Frances
will hit you, no matter what.
Today
the Lord speaks of a storm, but he assures you that it is a storm that has
passed. Behind you. Over.
Persuade
me. Listen.
Hebrews
12. “You have not come to a storm.”
The
writer to the Hebrews brings to mind an event that had been burned into the
memories of Jews for centuries. After
coming out of the land of Egypt, Israel was led by God to Mount Sinai. On this mountain God communicated to his
people his expectations. Ten
Commandments. You’re familiar.
Listen
to the setting. Exodus 19 &
20: “Whoever touches the mountain shall
surely be put to death . . . On the morning of the third day there was thunder
and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet
blast. Everyone in the camp trembled .
. . Mount Sinai was covered with smoke,
because the LORD descended on it in fire.
The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, and the whole
mountain trembled violently, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder and
louder. Then Moses spoke and the voice of God answered him . . . The people
trembled with fear. They stayed at a
distance and said to Moses, ‘Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will
die.’”
“Moses
answered, ‘God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you
to keep you from sinning.’”
The
fear of God. This was terror. This was people seeing what God can really
do. This was a frightening
mountain.
And
people felt it. They felt it in their
bodies. They felt the power of God and
the weakness of themselves. You too can
feel the fear of God. When you know you
have sinned greatly, you hear about a hurricane and you can shake. Even a Christian who knows his sin has been
forgiven can be afraid in the face of natural disasters because he still has a
sinful flesh which doesn’t trust God and God’s forgiveness perfectly, but
imagine if you, especially as a non-Christian, have guilt that isn’t letting
go. Suddenly a hurricane does not just
mean the loss of your home or life. A
hurricane threatens an early final meeting with God.
We
can feel such fear. We can touch, feel,
the winds that can destroy us. The
Israelites felt the earthquakes at the base of Mount Sinai. They knew God was the boss. They knew they were nothing. They knew they had acted like they were the
bosses.
So
the darkness and the gloom. Children
can be afraid of the dark. Imagine
being in that Russian school gymnasium as the sun was setting. If terror was great when eyes could see,
what shudders must have shaken as darkness came and you didn’t know what might
hurt you, come your way.
The
sound of a trumpet, louder and louder.
Why a trumpet? All you know is
that it’s getting louder. Something is
going to happen. Perhaps as age creeps,
you hear this trumpet getting louder and louder. When your end gets closer, guilt still there.
A
voice. “If even a wild animal touches
the mountain, it will be stoned.” Can
you imagine that? If a rabbit just
happened, on his early morning hop, to hop on the mountain, knowing nothing of
what was going on, the people of God were commanded to kill it. A mouse, a fox, a senseless innocent
creature gets in the wrong place. He’s
finished.
We
look at such words and say, “That’s crazy.”
No. God is serious. He is not unfair. He shows how strict his expectations are. He expects his rules to be obeyed. And he doesn’t miss a single violation, even
by an animal. You can’t expect to die
and face judgment while holding to a glimmer of hope that maybe God will
overlook your few slips. He sees
all. He sees the tiniest mouse. God expects us to obey always. Not just try. Not to work hard atit. He
expects us not to touch the mountain ever.
To obey.
Even
Moses, the leader of God’s people, could not stand calmly in God’s
presence. He started shaking. He couldn’t stop shaking. He, the seemingly greatest, was
nothing. He knew he was nothing. He knew that God had every right to take his
life and for eternity permit torture for all he had done wrong.
Would
you laugh at Moses? You wimp. Be strong.
Face death like a man. How wrong
we’d be to think we could face God. We,
shaking and knowing that should God act, we, the guilty, are finished.
Though
the pictures may not in your mind have been so vivid, do you sometimes feel
like you are living at the foot of Mt. Sinai?
God’s grace is not enough, with bitterness sprouting and growing,
hanging to slipping pleasures, and deep down, you know that God is a consuming
fire. God punishes sinners. Is your life at its heart sheer, honest,
proper at-the-foot-of-Mt.-Sinai terror?
Hear
the writer to the Hebrews assure you.
“You haven’t come to that mountain.”
You haven’t come to the fear of Mt. Sinai. All is not hopeless.
You
have come to Mt. Zion.
It’s
like you’re on a tour of a city. There
is a garbage dump in the city. It
smells. Flies surround. There is also a chocolate factory. Its aroma drives you crazy, in a happy sort
of way. The tour guide says, as you
stand before the chocolate factory, “You haven’t come to the city dump. You have come to Hershey’s chocolate. Let me tell you about chocolate.”
The
Lord is taking you on a tour. There is
a dump in the city. That is not where
he takes you today. He takes you to the
base of heaven.
Look,
he says, here is the city of the living God.
You’re thinking, “Oh, no. I
don’t want to be here. I’ve really made
him mad.” But you don’t hear of
earthquake or fire or storm. Instead
you hear of the heavenly Jerusalem, not of this earth. Not something these hands of yours can
touch. It’s not something you naturally
feel, like guilt. It goes beyond human
senses.
As
he shows you this place beyond human understanding, he points out angels. Tens of thousands of angels. Again you may think, “Oh, no.” You remember the angel who killed the
firstborn in Egypt, the angel who killed 185,000 Assyrian soldiers in a single
night. Oh, no. But with the angels were not those soon to
be crushed, but a gathering of the firstborn whose names were written in the
register of heaven.
You
go down to vote in November. Your name,
when you’ve registered to vote, is on a list.
Here,
in Hebrews, names of those on a list. A
list of those who can go into the voting booth? Into heaven.
And
a judge. Oh, no. That list.
There’s no way I can get on that list.
He knows.
But
the tour guide: “Look, the spirits of the righteous ones having been made
perfect, having been brought to their goal.”
Look. Here are people who have
crossed the finish line, who have run through a struggle and who have not arrived
by their own strength, but who have been lifted up and carried so that they might
finish a marathon they could never have completed on their own.
The
words from our lips, no longer, “Oh, no,” but “How?” I’m not righteous, but no one is righteous. And yet you say there are those who are
righteous, who have been brought by another to their goal. How?
The
tour guide: “Do you see Jesus?” How
eyes can tear at the thought of one in heaven who so loved. A mediator.
God was angry at us. Jesus
stepped in the middle. Earlier in
Hebrews, “For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those
who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance—now that he has
died as a ransom to set them free from the sins committed under the first
covenant (Hebrews 9:15). The first
covenant. The law. The commands we have broken. But Jesus gave up his life as a ransom. We were captured by terrorists. We could expect nothing but eternal
suffering. Jesus offered himself to
God, to be beaten and tortured and starved and dehydrated and sent to suffer
the pains of hell in our place. The
Father exploded eternal bombs owed to every human onto that one God/man. And you now are set free!
By
blood. The tour guide shows you
blood. Sprinkled blood. Earlier in Hebrews, “How much more, then,
will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself
unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death.” Does your conscience accuse? Have you committed acts that lead to death? Jesus’ blood washes your conscience. Not just cleansing our sin in God’s
sight. Cleansing the guilt in our own
hearts. Your conscience is cleaned.
This
is the tour. This is the mountain to
which God has taken you. This is where
the tour guide leads you. Not to a
mountain that screams out fear. To a
heavenly mountain that shows you Jesus and promises that in his blood your
actions deserving death have been washed away.
OK? You are OK.
You
are standing at the foot of a mountain without storms.
No
dread. Certain of God’s grace. Able to be free from bitterness and pursuing
peace. Loving first not the things of
this world, but living for the one who has given you permanent blessing in the
next.
Storms
are scary. Your conscience can bring
dread. But your conscience has been
cleansed.
The
storm has passed.
Amen.