They Were Astonished...And That Makes Me Jealous (Yes - You Read that Right): Mark 1: 21-28

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

I am going to beg your indulgence a little bit this morning. It’s been said that a preacher should always remember that his first congregation is his own hears, his own heart, his own conscience. So, this morning, I am preaching for myself but not just me. I suspect that in many ways, you’re right there with me.

Let me say this: please, don’t think, “Oh, the poor man…,” or “He’s overworked.” I also hope you don’t think I’m trying to make myself the center of attention – “hey, look at me!”  I’m trying to garner neither attention nor sympathy. What I am doing is speaking the truth of God’s Word to my ears and to yours as well, albeit in a little different way than usual.

Today is the 4^th Sunday of Epiphany. This year, the Epiphany season is short, only 5 weeks long, before the Transfiguration ushers us into Lent. Epiphany is a challenge for me as a pastor.  Epiphany means revealing, remember, and it is my vocational responsibility to reveal Christ to you. Therein is the challenge: God has called me through the Church, through Zion, to speak His Word of forgiveness to you on His behalf.

When I was a kid, I remember my brother was playing in the back yard. I had gone in the house for something, and Mom instructed me to call my brother in because dinner was ready. I stuck my head out the door and told him to come in for dinner. Two minutes later, he was still playing. Mom told me, again, to call him inside. Again, “Hey – it’s time for dinner,” and, again, he ignored my instruction with the comment, “You’re not the boss of me.” I dutifully reported this to Mom, who repeated the instruction with this addition: “Tell him, ‘Mom said, “It’s time for dinner!”’” This time, when I uttered the magic words, “Mom said,” he quickly dusted himself off and ran to the door.

I get to do something like that most Sundays and often during the week. Some Sundays, I say it like this: “As a called and ordained servant of Christ, and by His authority, I therefore forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Sometimes, I slip and say it like I learned it already as a boy: “I, by virtue of my office as a called and ordained servant of the Word, announce the grace of God unto you, and in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Sometimes I simply say, "I forgive you or in the name of (or by the authority of) Jesus Christ. Depart in peace." 

I am called by the Lord to speak by His authority, in His stead, by His command, and to utter God’s holy name. I am privileged to speak for Jesus. I don’t just get to teach about Him, like a history professor would do, or explore Him, like an English teacher, or try to discern his inner motives, like a psychologist. I get to declare the present-day reality that God, in Christ, has done, is doing, and will do mercy, compassion, and grace for you, His people.

And, there is the rub. I’m the vessel, the means, through which God speaks to you. I get to speak Jesus to others, revealing His mercy and grace to them. I get so used to delivering the epiphany of Jesus to someone else that I sometimes find it tough to encounter the living Christ for me, both in the Scripture and in the words and lives of the Church, the people of God. For instance, it’s very easy for me to read the Bible just to try to figure out what to say in a sermon or Bible class, and forget to read it and hear what God is saying to me, personally, myself, a baptized Child of God.

I admit, most of that is a professional concern that only clergy might face. I’m not saying this of all clergy, or even most – just saying it’s an occupational hazzard, the spiritual equivalent of a doctor giving everyone else their annual checkup but forgetting to get his or her own.

But I do wonder if you might not have a similar struggle. I wonder if you ever find yourself, like me, and when you heard these seven words, “And they were astonished at His teaching,” (Mark 1:21), and not finding yourself more than a little bit jealous at that Capernaum crowd. After all: Jesus was in their midst, teaching, and they heard and marveled. He didn’t teach like the other rabbis; He didn’t talk like other readers. There was authority there, and the people were astonished. I know: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed," but still...I wish I had been there to see, hear, and be amazed. 

I don’t know exactly what they heard – Mark doesn’t say. He also doesn’t tell us that they were all converted into having saving faith in Jesus. I have a guess, based on the context, that they didn’t really understand, yet, everything about Jesus-as-Messiah. What we do know is that they got to hear Jesus, His voice, His words, and they were amazed. They got to marvel at it. They didn’t have to be the authority, or explain it, defend it, apply it, or hold people accountable, to gather volunteers to run a program. Jesus said it. They heard it. They simply got to be astonished at it all.

I’m going to risk telling you a quick story, but, again, remember, this isn’t about me. What brought this to a head is knowing in two days, I’ll officiate the burial of Harrison Webel. As both a pastor and a father, this is heartbreaking. Last week, Acelynn’s funeral was difficult, but there was some distance of unfamiliarity. This one will be even more so because I know the parents much better. I was so concerned, I talked with a pastor-friend: how on earth would I get through this without turning into a blubbering mass of tear-smeared clergyman, getting in the way of the message. He listened and then said, very simply, “Remember this: the Word of comfort you preach to the family, you preach to yourself as well. Repent, believe the Gospel, and then preach it.”

I had gotten caught: I had been so busy trying to figure out what I was going to say, what I was going to do, trying to figure out how to explain and proclaim, that I forgot to first sit, listen, and simply be astonished at the words of Jesus. So, Tuesday afternoon, I gave up. I turned off the computer, turned off the Spotify, and moved Reese over on my couch in the office, opened my Bible and just read, letting the words amaze me – not trying to mine its depths for nuggets to preach or teach, but for the Words of forgiveness, life and salvation given to me.

I don’t know if you have ever had that kind of feeling, because it may be kind-of vocationally specific, but I suspect you may share some of the sentiments behind it. The Third Commandment’s instruction to hold God’s Word sacred and gladly hear and learn it doesn’t just mean getting up on a Sunday, driving to church, listening to a 15-17 minute sermon; or, a couple hours of sermon prep and preaching. It’s less about getting you in the pew but more about the gift of the living Word of God.

Some of you are old enough to remember the Kellogs Corn Flakes commercial, “Taste them again for the first time.” Their goodness is in their simplicity. Try the same thing with your Bible this week. Turn off the distractions. Put the phone on silent. Stash the iPad in the other room. Open your Bible. For this, I encourage you to use a real Bible and not an app or website, so you don’t get distracted by a game or news update. If you need one, let me know and I’ll help you out. Open your Bible, pick a place, and start reading. And, if you just can’t read – you need to listen to it – then turn off the screen, at least, close your eyes, and focus on the words. I might suggest either Mark (since it’s our Gospel for this year) or John. Open, read, taste it again for the first time, being astonished at the words and works of Jesus. Be bold in approaching the Lord in His Word. Be humble in the presence of the living Word of God. Stand with the surety that what you are opening yourself to the very Word of God and are sitting at His feet. Don’t try to listen to explain to others. Simply listen and experience the Word, allowing the Spirit to work in an uncluttered space.

What you discover – what I rediscovered – is the Word is living and active. It drives out fear, worry and doubt. It quells troubled hearts. It sooths anxious minds. It relieves crushed spirits. The Word is authoritative. The same Word-made-flesh that drove out demons, cleansed lepers, and silenced storms also speaks to forgive sins. You will find moments of joyful wonder in hearing His voice; you will also find moments of confusion at His words. That’s OK. There is a certain tension in the Scriptures. You do not have to fully comprehend it to believe it.

Wrestle with the Word. Wrestle with it like Jacob wrestled with God. Wonder at the God who speaks and at the actual words He speaks. You may walk away with a limp, but you may receive a blessing as well. The darkness and joy of such wondering and wrestling will bring life to your very soul as it did for me.