This Advent, the folks at the First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are considering some of the characteristics of the God whom we worship. On December 13, we talked about what it means for us to worship and serve a God who is called “Jealous”. Our texts included Deuteronomy 6:13-15 and Eugene Peterson’s translation of Romans 12:1-2.
I might be wrong, but I would suspect that I am not the only person in the room who has been involved in a scene like this: picture 12-year old Dave Carver finally getting to work on the stupid homework from stupid history class that involved making a stupid timeline and collage. Just after young Dave finishes cutting out all of the stupid newspaper articles and stupid magazine photos, Dave’s mother walks into the room. Instead of motherly love and appreciation at seeing the young scholar her son was becoming, she let out a horrifying shriek. “What did I tell you,” she screamed, “about using my fabric scissors to cut paper?!?!”
Sometimes, it’s frightening.
And if it’s your tool that is being misused, sometimes it is just infuriating, isn’t it? I mean, that’s yours! You care for it. You bought it for something special. You have an idea of how and why and where you want it used, and now some idiot is doing what with it? Do you know that kind of anger?
The Hebrew word for that emotion is qin’ah, and it comes from a root meaning “warmth” or “heat”. It’s related to an Arabic word that means “to become intensely red” – to get “fired up” about something. Qin’ah is a word that refers to passion and zeal and ardor. Your dad probably displayed that kind of passion when he walked into the room the time you were using his brand-new carving knife to open up a can of paint.
You heard a moment ago that one of God’s names is “Jealous”. Deuteronomy, and at least a dozen other places in scripture talk about the fact that “God is a jealous God.”
Normally, when we think of the English word “jealous”, we associate it with a painful and negative emotion; we think of the “green-eyed monster”, and we don’t often have positive things to say about anyone who is acting jealous.
Yet the Advent God whom we love and serve is described in more than a dozen places as being a “jealous” God. The word most often translated as “jealous” in our English bibles is qin’ah.
God is passionate for his creation. God knows how we are made, and he knows why we are made. And if your parents get upset when they find you using the wrong tool for the wrong job, imagine how torn God becomes when he watches his beloved creation constantly using our gifts and talents and energy in the wrong places; imagine how God feels when we look to something other than God to tell us who and what we are. And yet that’s what we do, time and time again – while we were created to be in relationship with God and with each other, we so often give into the temptation to use ourselves and that which we have been given wrongly; we are attracted to that which will kill us, and God, understandably, is passionate about that.
This Advent season, in particular, I’d like to point out several things that compete for our attention and which we find attractive – seductive powers that would draw us away from God’s best and into a spiral of disobedience and brokenness that will tear apart our ability to live faithfully as God’s children.
For some of us, the number one thing that distracts us from God’s intentions and purposes in our lives is, well, ourselves. The ancient Greeks told the story of a young man named Narcissus, who was strong and attractive and remarkable in many, many ways. He was, however, extremely proud and he did not think that anyone else was worth his time – his only thought was for himself. One day, he was hunting in the forest and he stopped at a small stream to get a drink of water. As he bent over the pool, he saw his own reflection in the water and he fell in love with it, not realizing that it was only an image of himself. He stared at the pool for hours, and then days, unable to leave it, and he eventually died there. Today we use the word “narcissistic” to describe those who are so preoccupied with themselves that they are unable to pay attention to the world around them.
God created you to be many things, and surely beauty and remarkability are included in that mix. However, the point of what you have been given is not you, but rather how you share it with the world around you. Advent is a time for us to stand against narcissism and remember we were made to be in community with other beautiful and remarkable people.
Some of us, though, hear the preacher say stuff like that and we say, “beautiful and remarkable, huh? Not likely. I try not to look at the mirror because I don’t like what I see or who I am.” When that happens, we find ourselves succumbing to the allure of an idol I might call “Consumption”. If narcissism tells you that you are all that and a bag of chips, then consumption’s constant refrain is “more.” You need more. You don’t have enough. You would be beautiful and remarkable if only you had this car or that outfit or those shoes or that lover. Again, you don’t have to look very far in this season to see how that idol is playing for our attention, do you? Turn on the television and see the freakishly proportioned human beings that are held up as models for what we ought to be like. Your teeth are not white enough, your chest is the wrong size, your skin is too wrinkled, and don’t even get me started on that hair. And that’s just our physical selves: the danger of the idol of consumerism is that it invades every corner of our lives – we are constantly told that what we have and who we are is just not enough – and so we have to seek to add to that by buying or seeking that something additional that will make us acceptable.
Another idol that would love to get between you and the Lord’s intentions for you this day is one of which we have heard far too much in recent weeks. The false god of “security” is one at whose altars we are all tempted to worship. Think, if you will, of the ways that we are encouraged to build our lives around fear:
• “those people” are coming to get us so we better get them first.
• we need higher walls and bigger fences
• more is better: more money in our retirement accounts, more weapons in our arsenal, more canned goods in our pantry…
Now look – don’t get me wrong: I have insurance and I lock my door and I put my granddaughter in a car seat and I try not to antagonize large humans who want to hurt me. I like security. Security is not bad – in fact, it is one of the promises of God.
The problem comes when I begin to think that the way to get security is by somehow amassing my own resources or strength or protection, rather than trusting in God and working with you to create a world where everyone, not just me, is more secure. Security is a gift from God enjoyed in the context of a community wherein all experience the presence of safety and shalom. It does not come from having a state-of-the-art alarm system or a thick stock portfolio or the biggest army on the planet.
Advent is the time of year when we remember that God demonstrated his passion, his ardor, his jealousy, his qin’ah for us by coming in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. God saw his beloved creation looking to sources like self, consumption, or security to provide what only God can give, and God’s response to that was to send his own self to us in a form that we could apprehend and understand. Jesus was, as his friend John said, God who became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.
In Advent we remember God’s passion and purpose for us and we ask God to once more remind us that God, and God alone, makes us sufficient and complete. That God, and God alone, gives us identity and purpose. That God, and God alone, directs our steps.
In light of God’s qin’ah – God’s raging passion and zeal for us, what are we to do? I might suggest three simple steps that we can take that will shape us for living as those who are grateful for the fact that Jesus came and expect that he will come again.
One thing that we can do is simply to believe that God does love us, is passionate about us, and is willing to be our source and stay in the world. The primary narratives in the beginning of the Bible all deal with someone’s inability to wrap their heads around the fact that God can be trusted. Adam and Eve eat the apple, Cain kills Abel, the Israelites wander through the desert for a generation, the kingdoms fall all because someone can’t believe that God is either concerned enough to or capable of paying attention to the world that he’s made. The primary response to the passionate love of God that fills this room and your life is to accept it, say ‘thank you’, and trust in it.
Once we believe that God’s qin’ah is for our good and that of the world, then we move more deeply into it by paying attention. We look for the places where God is moving, and we participate there. We look for the places where we experience God’s absence, and we ask him to reveal himself there. A couple of weeks ago I asked a high school student about her prayer life, and she said, “I just try every night as I am getting ready for bed to talk to God about the day. I try to remember to thank him for being there, and I tell him the stuff that I’m worried about.” She is paying attention – keeping one eye on God and the other on the world around her.
And when we trust that God’s passion is for us and on us, and we pay attention to where the purposes of God are erupting in the world around us, it’s easy to make ourselves available for God’s work and God’s priorities. Our calendars and our bank records and our social media posts are reflective of the things about which God is passionate because we are intentional about connecting with God in those places. That’s what Paul is saying to his friends in Rome when he reminds them to take their everyday lives and put them before God as an offering.
You may or may not notice that every week Glenn or Ray or someone stands in the back and counts the number of people who are in the building. Every year Kate fills out a form indicating how much money came in and out of this church. Neither of those things are the primary measure of this congregation. What matters, first and foremost, is not what you do in here on Sunday morning, but what you do with the thing that Paul calls your “your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life”. If we filled this room on Sunday morning with hundreds of people who all said the right things and sang the songs perfectly, but our world was not changed, we’d be doing it wrong. The time that we spend in here is not an end in itself, but rather a reminder of God’s passion for us and a refresher as to how we can be equipped to say “no” to the idols of our day.
We are often tempted to think of jealousy as a negative characteristic, and it’s not one that 21st century American Christians associate with God that often. Yet there is something amazing and powerful about jealousy if we understand it as a deeply-held love that is angered when the object of that love is threatened by something that is less than the best. Jealousy – even our human understanding of it – is a reminder that we are deeply loved and thought to be of worth. This Advent, let us remember that we are, indeed, deeply loved. We have, in fact, been richly blessed. And we will, by God’s grace, be able to participate in and share that love, not just for an hour on Sunday mornings, but in the reality of our daily lives. Thanks be to God. Amen.