Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson.
Who is the greatest? I guess it
depends on who you ask, and what you’re debating. NCAA football? Greatest president? We have livestock shows to find the best
future farmer and rancher, spelling bees to determine the best speller, MVP
awards for the best player, and Oscars for best actors. I bet many of you have
a T-shirt, or a necktie, or a card somewhere that declares you to be the best
mom or dad ever.
The disciples are having a
similar argument: who’s the best disciple? I can imagine how the conversation
went. Andrew argues he’s best because he was the first of the disciples called
– first in Jesus program, first in His heart, so to speak. Peter argues his
confession, which Jesus declared to be the foundation of the church, makes him
the best, but Nathaniel counters that he confessed Jesus to be the Son of God
and King of Israel before Peter ever did. Matthew, a tax collector, says he
sacrificed the most financially to become a disciple, but James and John, the
sons of Zebedee, think they gave up more when they left their family fishing
enterprise and their older father. The other disciples all had their reasons,
too, I’m sure.
We do it, too. Who’s the greatest
member of Zion? Perhaps it’s the one who has been a member the longest. Maybe
it’s the one with the largest family tree, or the deepest roots in Mission
Valley. Maybe the one who has God-given talent to spare, or who seems to be
involved in everything, or who has taught Sunday school for years or the one
whom we think gives the most money – they are the most more important.
The danger of considering someone
to be the best is that it devalues everyone else. A few years ago, when Tiger
Woods was at the height of his professional career, commentators noted how his
entry into any tournament changed the aspect of that event. He was so good, so
unstoppable that players assumed he would win, so instead of vying for first,
every other competitor was trying to come in second.
Jesus takes this argument of
greatness and tips it over 180 degrees. “If anyone would be first, he must be
last of all and servant of all.” And He uses a child to illustrate this point. Now,
I need you to set aside our 21st century attitude of children for a
second, that they’re beautiful little angels who need to be protected and
sheltered and modeled for their innocence and purity. In Jesus’ day, nothing
was further from the truth. In the social structure, children were above dogs
and below servants. Children couldn’t do anything, they couldn’t fend for
themselves. They were completely dependent on their parents, they took a
mother’s attention, took up resources, and took up space. Children were things
to be tolerated while they were eating you out of house and home and while you waited
for your sons to work for you in the fields or in the business, or for your
daughters marry off so you could gain the wedding price.
Jesus sits down next to this
seemingly useless person, front and center. “Whoever receives one such child in
my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but Him who sent
me.”
I want you to notice something.
Elsewhere, Jesus speaks of becoming like a child. Not here. Here, it’s to be
great receive the child. Think about this. What’s notable about a little child
is that he’s little. To receive a child,
you have to get off your pedestal of power, possession, and prestige. You have to get down on your hands and knees
to meet the child at his eye level.
If you want a picture of
greatness Jesus’ style, look at a parent changing a diaper at three in the
morning. Watch parents with their
children in church struggling to teach them how to pray and worship. Go to Sunday School and watch an adult bend
down to help a little one learn the Scriptures.
Watch an adult child remind her senior parents that Jesus still loves
them. That’s the greatness of the cross.
The greatness of the cross is the
greatness of self-sacrifice. It’s
serving instead of being served. Jesus
loved to use little children as examples – not because they were cute – but
because they were giveable to, helpless, and the least among the great.
That changes things, doesn’t it,
to see greatness as the one who is the most needful? Instead of seeing
greatness as the one who is the best and the most, instead see greatness as the
one who seems to be the least. The greatest, Jesus says, is the one who is weakest,
who is about to be overwhelmed, who is completely dependent; the one who has
lost or who is losing everything dear, the one in the most danger of being
overlooked or bypassed; the one written off by society as irrelevant, the one
no one sees as if they aren’t even there; the one thrown aside like detritus,
the unwanted and the unloved. To receive them, that is, to serve them, that is
where greatness lies in the kingdom.
You know a person like this. For just a
second, close your eyes and imagine that person – perhaps it’s a man, a woman,
or a child. The rest of the world sees them, but I want you to look at them
closely. Close your eyes. Look…See the pain in the face, the sadness? See the
loss and hurt? Look more closely: Do you see the griefs and sorrows? Do you see
how this soul is almost overwhelmed to the point of death? Do you see how this
soul is as nothing? Keep your eyes closed…now look at the brow…and as you do,
you notice something strange – the scars at the hair-line. They’re not big,
just a fraction of an inch long, some jagged and some neat small marks. You
realize the face in front of you is changing. As you see him, He is also seeing
you, his expression filled with compassion and mercy. Now, look down…the hands
of this weak soul are held out towards you in a welcome. Notice the
hands…gentle, strong…and with a mark in each hand. Now, quickly, look down at
the feet and you see a similar mark in the feet. Slowly, he turns his back
towards you and you see the lines trace across His back, once angry red, now
healed. And, as He turns back toward you, you realize that this one who is
before you, the weakest of all, is none other than Jesus Himself. Do you see
Him? As your eyes are opened, He speaks.
He says, “I know what it is to be
weak and humbled; I know what it is to surrender fully and completely for the
eternal wellbeing of those whom I love. I know what it is to have nothing. I
know what it is to be hated and despised, a man of sorrows, whom no one loves.
I know what it is to be so weak, I cannot carry my own cross. I know what it is
to be overlooked until perceived as a threat, and then something to be destroyed.
I know what it is to be overwhelmed at the point of death, abandoned by my
closest friends, and I know what it is to be rejected even by My own Father. I
know what it is to die for people who spat on me, whipped me, and nailed me to
the cross.”
That’s what Jesus did for you–He
reached down to us. For we are like
little children. We couldn’t reach up to
heaven no matter how hard we would try.
And the smaller the child is, the more we must bend our knees, backs,
and egos to meet him. To receive a little child and serve him is to bend down
and give to another. It’s to know the
self-sacrificing love of the cross that saved you and made you God’s own child.
That’s greatness in the way of the cross.
That’s the Jesus way. Greatness
in the way of the cross is the greatness of humility.
His greatness is backwards of
what the world sees. The world sees dying as weakness; Jesus shows strength in
his innocent suffering and death. The world counts as least one who refuses to
fight; Jesus demonstrates greatness in forgiving those whose sins nail Him to
the cross. The world sees crucifixion as the most humiliating and excruciating
way of death; Jesus makes the cross into a throne of glory. The world looks at
a grave as the period at the end of life’s sentence; Jesus’ resurrection makes the
grave to be nothing more than a resting place as we wait for our own day of
resurrection.
And, when we see Jesus as the
least of all, you see the least of all as the greatest. At the beginning of the
sermon, I asked you who was the greatest member of Zion. Does this change your
perspective of the greatest?
The greatest member of Zion is
the one whose heart is broken, the one whose body hurts all the time, the one
who is afraid, the one who is drowning in debt, the one who is to embarrassed
to come out of the shadows, the one who is scared, the one who is flirting with
grave temptation, the one who is grieved by what they have done and left
undone. This is the most important member of this body of Christ.
If you think I am trying to shame
you – I am not. You are the most important child of God in this holy House
today. Please – don’t hide. Let your brothers and sisters in Christ who are
strong walk with you and help you with our prayers, our words of encouragement,
our care and our support. And for those of you who are strong, don’t worry –
I’m not forgetting you. It’s not that I don’t think you are important. Because
the day will come when you will be the least and then, you too, shall be the
greatest.
And when you start to change how
you see greatness, your whole world view changes. A family had stopped at a
fast-food burger joint for a fast to-go meal. Somehow they wound up with an
extra burger in the sack. The teenage boy was excited – he thought he was going
to get a two-fer that night. While they munched on the fries in the bag, the
light in front of them turned red. As the mom looked around, she saw a man at
the intersection. He was a mess – shaggy beard, ragged face, dirty. She could
practically smell him through the rolled-up windows. And, then, she knew why
they had gotten the extra burger. As she rolled down the passenger window, she
waved the man over and told her son to give the man the extra burger. The man
nodded his thanks, and the family drove away. The son was irritated at first –
why did you give away my burger, he demanded. “I didn’t give him yours,” Mom
said. She smiled. “I gave him his.”
In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
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