Astounded

 

Sunday, February 1^st, 2009

Epiphany 4B

Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA

Mark 1:21-28

Theme: Christ’s authority

 

“²¹They went to Capernaum; and when the Sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. ²²They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. ²³Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”²⁵But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!”²⁶And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. ²⁷They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” ²⁸At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.”

 

I began to fall asleep in church as a young boy, probably from the time I was a baby.  At first, it was a natural thing, something to be expected in one so young.  I would fuss a little, momma would give me a bottle or a pacifier, and I’d suck on it for a few minutes and then be gone for a good half hour at least, if not longer. 

 

As I got older, I’d last longer.  But usually about ten or fifteen minutes into the sermon I’d be gone.  I sat under the preaching of … probably at least a good dozen pastors.  Many more if you count guest speakers and evangelists, visiting missionaries and others. 

 

But I remember when it started to change. I remember once waking up during the preaching, having been laying on the pew with my head in my mother’s lap, and something in me was disappointed that I’d missed some of what was being said.  I must have been around ten or so. 

 

But the real breaking point came when I began to actually engage with what was being said.  It wasn’t all the time, but it began to happen more and more frequently.  I would still occasionally nod off, if I was particularly tired, or the topic was especially uninteresting to me.  It’s just the nature of the thing. 

 

So when I was reading in the passage this morning, especially where the contrast is made between the way Jesus was teaching as compared to ‘the scribes’ … to be honest, my heart went out to the scribes.  I can’t imagine having to bring the lesson on the Sabbath after Jesus made his debut. 

 

But the message of Mark is not about feeling sorry for a secondary character.  The message of Mark is to introduce his readers to the Messiah, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  And in this passage, he does that in spades. 

 

I remember the first time I was changed by what a preacher said.  Well, in retrospect, it wasn’t the preacher, exactly, because I don’t remember his exact words, or the text.  What I remember was what happened at the end of the service.  I understood that I needed Christ as my savior, and wanted him as my Lord, and I gave my life to Christ.  What I’ve come to understand from that experience is that the Holy Spirit was at work on me, and that changed me.  That was the right time and place for me to become a follower of Christ. 

 

Mark’s description of the events that took place in that synagogue are vivid, to say the least.  But he doesn’t fill his telling with details we find in other gospels – he doesn’t quote the passage that Jesus read from when he stood up, he doesn’t tell what Jesus taught.  What he DOES talk about is the reaction, the response from the people gathered in the synagogue. 

 

“²²They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.”       

 

The word translated ‘astounded’ here is the same word used to describe the reaction of Mary and Joseph when they found Jesus teaching in the temple at the age of twelve, which is translated as “astonished” in the Gospel of Luke, verse 48.  I tried to put myself into each of those two situations … in the first, it is the emotion felt by a mother and father after three days of frantic searching for a son they thought they may have lost.  In this situation, it is describing the reaction of a congregation on hearing their faith taught, not as a matter of wrote memorization, or dry reading from ancient scrolls, but as a living thing – something relevant and pertinent and applicable to their daily living.  In other words, what was astounding to both Mary and Joseph AND to the men who heard Jesus teach that morning was the fact that what had for most of their lives been something that was simply a duty, something that HAD to be done, because you were one of the tribes of Israel, something that could put them to sleep just as easily as a lullaby had become a call to … worship, a transformative power to be reckoned with.

 

And the folks in the synagogue were confronted with just who it was that was teaching them right there on the spot. 

 

There is a whole separate message in the fact that there was a man possessed of an unclean spirit in the congregation, but we will hold that thought for later date. 

 

What is important for now is to realize that as a narrative element, this is pivotal.  Jesus teaches, and we are faced with our sinfulness, our own demons.  Some of the most traumatic events in my life have been when God’s word has been spoken to me in the context of a worship service, and I have been faced with something that I needed to change, to repent of, or to DO, to BE. 

 

This man’s cry is a cry of fear – fear of being changed, fear of ending a familiar surrounding.  The demonic spirit that was in him had become accustomed to the status quo – to the way things were, and here comes Jesus, totally disrupting the comfortable existence it was enjoying. 

 

If you are looking for an early version of the Gospel in a nutshell, I think this may be it:   

          

“What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

 

It is more questions than answers, and in the end, we are only confessing who Jesus is – the Holy One of God. 

 

In his first question, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”  We are asking out of our sorrow, our grief, our despair; “what are you going to do with us, Jesus?”  it is a question born out of anxiety about where we will end up after Jesus takes us out of that misery, that grief and sorrow; because while it may be a terrible, lonely, sad existence, it is at least a familiar one.  And we do most definitely prefer the familiar and comfortable than the unfamiliar and uncomfortable, don’t we? 

“Have you come to destroy us?”, the second question, is one that might resonate with those of us who have been confronted with what the English poet Francis Thompson called the Hound of Heaven – Jesus as a relentless, persistent, unyielding hound … who is ruthless in paring away from us that which would weigh us down, distract, even destroy us.  Because it can, truly, feel like we are being destroyed, when we are being taken through the purifying fires of holiness, when we are struggling with coming to grips with living for someone other than ourselves, when we are learning to give EVERYTHING up for the sake of Christ.

 

The final proclamation becomes confession when we read it.  We confess that Jesus is indeed the Holy One of God. 

 

Snapping back into the context of the story, Jesus demonstrates with just a few words that the authority that he brought to his teaching style carries over into his deeds.  The old adage “Those who can’t do, teach” does NOT apply here.  Jesus not only talked the talk, but he walked the walk. 

 

In this era of movies and television shows that depict demonic possessions, exorcisms, and all things scary, to read the next line is to conjure up images from any or all of those scenes in the movies where someone is being released from the grip of that which possesses them – convulsions, screaming, writhing in agony on the floor, maybe even a head spinning – after Jesus has commanded the evil spirit to come out of him. 

 

You see, it’s never easy to let go of our demons.  They have insinuated themselves so far into every area of our lives that we don’t realize how painful their absence will be, because we have begun to believe their lie that tells us that THEIR life IS our life.  That their presence means that we ARE alive, when in fact, it is the opposite that is true. 

 

What does this mean for Jerusalem Baptist Church at Emmerton? 

 

What is it that we are possessed by?  Do we quietly go about our weeks and come Sunday, we quietly make our way here, expecting everything to continue just as it was when we walked in this morning?  That is a form of possession.  It is the illusion of tranquility, of predictability.  It is a lie that tells us our lives have no impact, and that no other lives have an impact on us, that we can go about our regular, daily existence and not touch or be touched by anyone or anything. 

 

God in Christ is calling us to understand that we do not live in a vacuum; that we have impact, that we have the potential to make a difference in the world we live in – even a profound difference – and all we have to do is trust him to guide us, to change us, to remake us as his own. 

 

And I think it is safe to say, we will be astounded at the results.                 

 

Let’s pray.