Month: July 2022

Small Great God

‘Oh Great God, are you small enough for me?’ – Nicole Nordeman, from her song, Small Enough

Those connected with First Baptist Church of Collingswood, where I serve as pastor, know what I just finished a sermon series on the Book of Ruth.  It’s the Tuesday after the final installment, which normally means I’m itching to move on to the next sermon series.  As someone once commented, preaching is like giving birth on Sunday morning and waking up pregnant again on Monday.  But this week, before I tend to the next pregnancy, I want to linger with a lesson from Ruth that I must keep in mind.  Perhaps you do too. 

The story of Ruth takes place in the time of the Judges.  This was before Israel had a king, a time when, as the book of Judges tells us twice, ‘everyone did what was right in their own eyes’ (Judges 17:6 and 21:25).  It was a tumultuous time in which the strongest arms strutted across the stage of history afflicting regular folks with the consequences of their selfish choices.  Those consequences included, as they do at any stage of history wherein the powerful throw their weight around: tribalism, civil war, foreign invasion, famine, displacement of peoples, and, at the center of it all, indeed the cause of it all, a shift of allegiance from God to lesser things (aka idolatry). 

Sounds a lot like our world, doesn’t it? 

If there had been newspapers in the time of the judges, or 24-hour news networks, or, worse still, social media, I am quite certain that the news of the day (or whatever it is you call the dubious nonsense in our newsfeeds) would have had us all in about the same tizzy we find ourselves in when we consume the news today  Learning about the breakdown of civility and respect between the tribes of Israel, the fights that threatened their unity, the latest foreign threat, or the displacement of true faith by false religion would have had the same effect on us then as does now the daily onslaught of extremist rhetoric, the prospect of civil war, the invasion of nations, or, for Christians like myself, the coopting of historic Christianity by a particularly venomous form of Christian Nationalism.[1]  We would have been, as many of us often are now, consumed by the big picture of a world going to hell in a handbasket. 

But then, in the midst of those days, comes a little story about ordinary people and their ordinary problems as they navigate their world.  I’ll refrain from telling the whole story here (you can read it yourself), but basically, while the world rages, they have to live and cope with problems much closer to home.  Death in the family.  The consequent financially instability and justifiable concern for the future.  Having to move (twice) as a result of circumstances beyond their control.  And hovering over the story of such ordinary, close to home trials and fears, a question: does the great God of the universe pay attention to ordinary people and their problems?  Is he even able to notice them in a time when the big picture world seems to be burning to the ground? 

Turns out he can and does.  The story of Ruth tells of a great God who is small enough for ordinary folks.  A God who is involved in the ordinary, intimate, day to day events of people’s lives.  A God who works in such events and lives to bring about the most beautiful ends.  A God who, believe it or not, uses this kind of work to save, not only the people immediately concerned, but the entire world, and in ways no one would ever imagine.[2]

As I walk away from the story of Ruth and move to the next thing, I don’t want to forget this.  I don’t want to forget that in a world gone mad, where more and more people seem intent on doing only what is right in their own eyes, where moral compasses seem irretrievably broken, where mad leaders strive for complete control, where civil war and dictatorship are more than just fantastic possibilities, where we literally face the prospect of a world on fire, and where many of those leading us toward the precipice abuse my faith to claim divine sanction for their actions, I need to remember that I cannot be so overwhelmed by the big picture that I miss what God is doing closer to home.  I need to remember that God is at work: in my family, in my church, and in the small circles of relationships I have in the community.  I need to remember that it is there that God is working out the most beautiful things, the things that will not only save the ones I most especially love, but through them, the world. 

If you haven’t lately, pick up a Bible and read the story of Ruth.  There you will meet a God who moves in the midst of a tumultuous world, not just in the big things, but in the small things. 

There you will meet a great God who is small enough for you and me. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] All Christian Nationalism is venomous.  What we are seeing today is especially so. 

[2] Again, I’ll let you read the story for yourself.  But when you do, note the genealogy at the end, and note especially where that genealogy ultimately leads. 

The Gospel of Stranger Things

‘What if all the great stories that have ever moved you, brought you to joy or tears – what if they are telling you something about the true Story into which you were born, the Epic into which you have been cast?’ – John Eldredge, from his book, Epic

I just finished watching Stranger Things Season 4.  I’ve been hooked on this show since its first season.  Part of the reason is nostalgia.  Stranger Things is set in the eighties, the period in which I grew up, and everything about it, from the music to Dungeons and Dragons to rock band T-shirts to home décor to Starcourt to antiquated video game systems sitting atop television sets (big boxy ones at that; no flatscreens) takes me back.  Yes, the show is a bit weird and frightening, but weird and frightening are part of growing up too, so it only adds to the nostalgia.  In many ways, Stranger Things makes me feel like a kid again; it enables me to relive the story of my youth. 

But it’s more than nostalgia.  Stranger Things also reminds me of the story I continue to live in; the story that, believe it or not, you live in too. 

The world of Stranger Things is plagued by malevolent forces that work behind the scenes from an unseen dimension called ‘the Upside Down.’  These forces mirror dark figures from the world of Dungeons and Dragons, including a Mind Flayer, Demogorgons, and a Lich, though there is more to them than meets the eye.  Through a doorway between worlds, they terrorize the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana, from which they intend to move out and destroy the world as we know it. 

Enter the hero: a young girl named, oddly enough, Eleven (El for short).[1]  As the series progresses, El grows in knowledge and in wisdom, in purpose and in power.  She no sooner appears than she attracts a group of misfits.  Four nerdy youngsters.  An alcoholic cop.  A single mom struggling to raise two boys.  Teenagers who, at first, don’t seem to know whether they are coming or going.  A conspiracy theorist.  With El as their leader, they take on the malevolent forces of the Upside Down.  El’s band is foolish and weak in the eyes of the world.  But they are the heroes fighting to save it, the ones who see things clearly, while the other residents of Hawkins live distracted lives.

Caught up in the omnipresent battles of the 1980s, the residents of Hawkins are simply clueless.   The series hearkens back to the dominant battles of the time when it shows competing yard signs for Reagan and Mondale and evokes the terror of the Cold War.  These, alongside less pressing matters, occupy the time and attention of Hawkins’ residents, as such matters do in our own world.  No one realizes the real threat, or that the battles that dominate their lives are mere skirmishes in a much larger war.  Caught up in lesser stories, most residents of Hawkins (and beyond) neglect the main story that will determine the course and outcome of their lives. 

Sound familiar? 

It should of course, at least to Christian readers.   For we too live amidst malevolent forces, both seen and unseen, that desire to destroy the world as we know it.  A world wherein most people are caught up in lesser battles and stories, oblivious to the true story.  A world that, though not everyone knows it, has a hero.  A hero who tends to attract the most unlikely followers, the most effective of which are foolish and weak, despised by the world, counted as nothing in its eyes (see, 1 Corinthians 1:26-28).[2]

Yet these weak ones, as they follow their leader, their ‘El,’ are the ones who see things clearly.  They have identified the true enemy.  They are, of course, like the characters in Stranger Things, impacted by the lesser stories taking place about them.  But they maintain their focus.  They keep their hearts in the true story and live their lives accordingly, as they anticipate the defeat of evil and the coming of a new world. 

In the final analysis, this is why I love Stranger Things.  Like all great stories, It reminds me of the true story.  The story I hope to give my attention to all the days of my life. 

The question is, of course, whether you, reader, desire to give attention to that story as well?

I would suggest, along with John Eldredge, that if you like Stranger Things, there just might be a reason.  Deep down, your heart may have already realized that it is pointing you to ‘the true Story into which you were born, the epic into which you have been cast.’     

Here’s hoping that you take your place in that story.

And become one of its heroes. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] It’s probably just a coincidence, but in Hebrew, El means might, power, or strength, and is a name for God (e.g., El Shaddai, Emmanu-el). 

[2] These days, as in all days, there are powerful people who count themselves among the true hero’s followers.  But more often than not, they are, to borrow a phrase from Brennan Manning, ‘posers, fakers, or wannabes.’  Or worse.