Holy Fear

This was the sermon I planned to preach this morning (Oct 30, 2016).  It is not terrible, but it had two things wrong with it.  It is too similar to what I preached on Oct 23rd, and it is not what I really wanted to do.  So, I scrapped it at the last minute.

To understand the way the sailors of Jonah chapter 1 related to God, we need to look at the New Testament, the Gospel of Luke, chapter 5.  There, Jesus is already extremely popular, but has not yet called together his 12 disciples.  He is preaching by the shore.  After his sermon, he see Simon Peter, and Jesus tells him to put his fishing nets out in the deep water.  Peter responds that he has not caught anything all night.  Peter probably wants add, ‘Why are you, a carpenter, telling me, a fisherman, how to fish?”  What he actually says is “If you say so, Jesus, I will let down the nets.” 

            The catch is so massive, the nets began break and two others have to help him and they fill two boats with fish.  Awestruck, Peter throws himself at Jesus’ feet and, groveling, says, “Go way from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”  The holiness of Jesus shined a light on his own condition.  Peter could see who Jesus was and who he, himself, was.  He shakes with fear.  Jesus gently raises him to his feet and says, “Fear not.”

            This phrase comes up throughout scripture.  When an angel appeared to Daniel, the angel had to tell Daniel, “Do not be afraid” (10:19).  He had to say this because Daniel was very, very much afraid in the presence of this Heavenly being.  The angel who told Mary she would be the mother of Jesus began by saying, “Do not be afraid, Mary” (Luke 1:30).  In the book of Revelation, the resurrected Christ himself appears to John of Patmos and when John sees him, in awestruck terror he falls to the ground, the life scared out of him.  Jesus raises John saying, “Do not be afraid.”  And in Luke 5, Jesus tells a terrified Peter he need not fear.

            Fear is appropriate and inevitable.  God’s holiness magnifies the corruption sin has inflicted on humanity.  We were created “good,” made in God’s image.  Sin reduces to less than the vision God had in creating us.  In creation, we reflected God’s glory. Tainted by sin, we fall short of God’s glory.

            Yet Jonah was dishonest with himself when it came to appropriate fear of the Lord.  Seeing God, we know that running from God is impossible. Jonah saw God with greater clarity than we do.  He was a prophet called to a specific mission.  His sense of God was particularly sharp.  Yet, he who knew how futile running would be ran!

            Why he ran is a matter of debate.  He was told to prophesy against Nineveh.  God did not say a word about saving Nineveh.  Jonah was sent with a judgment prophecy.  Later, Jonah will claim that he knew God was going to relent from punishing the city (4:2), but that comes after the fact.  That’s like picking the winner after the game has been in played.  In chapter 1, when God tells him to go in verses 1-2 and in verse 3, he goes in the opposite direction, we are not told why.   What’s obvious is the absurdity of it.  He knows God.  He knows there is nowhere one can run from God.  Yet he runs from God. 

            God is holy and we are profane because of sin.  We were created to be holy, but every day, we make choices to rebel against our creator, and the accumulation of sin mocks the God of the universe.  We should fear God, but in a way that compels toward reverence.  Our fear should lead to worship, not retreat.

            This is not like the fear one might have of an abusive parent or of a bully or a dictator.  If you have been a victim of abuse or molestation, that is a different kind of pain and a different kind of fear.  That fear is a fear of evil, an evil born in the heart of the one doing the abusing.  God is not like abuser, the molester, the rapist, the bully.  God is who we run to in order to get away from the abuser. 

            I throw in this caveat because fear has in many cases been a destroyer of faith.  A lot of broken people won’t come to church, and more importantly, don’t think to turn to God for help because the people who taught them about God are the same people who abused them.  Pastors have been guilty of every form of abuse and it is awful.  When my title is “Fear out of Faith,” I do not mean the type of fear related to abuse.  When people have been abused, we who make up the body of Christ have to give them grace and mercy and we do this with enormous patience and gentleness. We have to be the community in which they are safe from fear.  God is graceful and merciful, patient and inviting and gentle.

            God is scary where holiness shines a light which reveals our sinfulness and our smallness.  Peter saw that miraculous catch of fish and wanted no part of it.  But, he didn’t run away.  His mouth said, “Go away from me Lord.”  But his body said something else.  His body was at Jesus’ feet, clinging to Jesus’ knees.  Jesus met him at that point of internal conflict.  Right there, Jesus called him to be a disciple.  Peter wanted to be as far from Jesus as possible and as close to him as he could get; he wanted both at the same time.

            Jonah, possessing much greater knowledge of God than Peter, much more experience in his relationship with God, only wanted the first part of the equation.  He just wanted to bail out, to flee, to get away from God.  His fear led him to abandon his own faith and to accept a gross self-deception.  Many believers today want to know God and then to disavow God when knowing God has implications for our lives.  Would-be disciples settle for the same self-deception that tugged at Jonah as he fled God. 

            People convince themselves that it is enough to check off “Christian” on the census, to tell others “I am Baptist,” to go to church 3 or 4 times a year, and to memorize the Lord’s Prayer.  That’s sufficient to be right with God and that’s all they want.  They don’t want to actually know God.  This hands-off approach to faith requires almost nothing, it has no impact on the person’s life at all, and it produces someone who has no sense of what God is about in the world.  That individual might be a church member.  However, that individual has no relationship with God. 

            That person with the noncommittal faith deep down knows he or she is living a lie, but it feels easy to keep living it.  It feels scary to open ourselves up completely so that the depths of our hearts are fully exposed before the living God.  That’s terrifying because when we do that, we are inviting God to step in and begin changing us from the inside.

            In the book of Jonah, we see God willing to do that, step into the lives of people, even for non-Jews.  The sailors on the boat where not Israelites.  They believed in God – or in gods – but, they did not know God.  The storm at sea confirmed something they already believed.  The world is much bigger than them, and it was beyond their ability, even as able bodied mariners, to control it.          The mariners’ response to all loss of control was to run to God.  When Jonah told them his god was the creator of land and sea, those sailors believed without hesitation.  And their fear increased.  They believed God would sink their ship because of Jonah and they would go down with. When Jonah told them the solution was to throw him into the sea, their fear increased more.  They hesitated.  They tried rowing (it hadn’t worked before, and it didn’t work now).  Then, they prayed, and threw Jonah into the sea.  The waves stopped battering the ship, the wind died down, and rain stopped.  The storm was over.  And, like Peter trembling at the miraculous fish catch they feared God even more. 

            In verse 12, Jonah tells the sailors, “I worship the Lord, the God of heaven.”  The actual Hebrew word is not “worship.”  It is “fear.” Jonah literally says, “I fear the Lord, the God of heaven.”[i]       The book of Jonah displays real faith that comes out of genuine fear of the magnificent holiness of God.  Jonah speaks this fear but betrays himself by running, and ends up swallowed by the fish and the sea.  The sailors live what Jonah says.  Their fear leads to worship.

            After chapter 1, we don’t hear from the sailors again in the story, but by the end of Jonah, we are left to wonder.  What did their lives look like after they became God-fearing worshipers?  They made it to Tarshish.  As each sailor, got off that boat, how was his life different after his encounter with the living God.

            How about our lives?  One of the cornerstones of the way we try to live as a body of believers is the encounter.  We pray that when we gather, people will meet God in this place, this gathering of believers.  In that meeting with God, when holiness exposes us at our worst, will fear drive us to our knees in confession and worship?  Or will fear make us runaway and pretend that God is far off somewhere, mostly uninterested in our lives?  We at HillSong try to set conditions so that you will meet God here and stay with Him.  Meet God and be made new in the process. 

            God controls how He will reveal himself.  When he does, we decide if we will run away, or if stripped down, we will kneel at the cross and receive forgiveness and grace and new life. I don’t know what you’ve been through today.  I don’t know the pains stabbing at your heart.  I don’t know your brokenness. 

            I pray this morning, you’ll open your eyes and mind and heart wide enough to see God.  When you see God, I urge you step into the fear.  Like Peter, even though you want to say “away from me Lord,” I pray you will step to God.  Step to the cross and let the Lord hang your sins on it.  Let the Lord wash you and bring you up from the waters clean, refreshed, renewed, and alive.  The sailors in Jonah 1 help me see the new possibilities of life that come when we step to God.  I pray you will see that too and that you will step toward God right now.

AMEN

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[i] E. Achtemeier (1996), New International Bible Commentary: Minor Prophets I, Paternoster Press (Peabody, MA), p.262

The Dragonslayer’s Son

The first portion of this story, written in italics, is from my memory.  The second half, written in normal script is a reflection on how my perception has shaped my life since then.

It is around 1978, maybe ’79.  My family lives in a small Suburb North of Detroit between 14 Mile Road and 15 Mile Roads.  My dad is in the yard gardening.  My younger brother and younger sister and I are in the yard playing.  It is early summer.

A guy in a black muscle car turns from the side street onto our street and guns his engine.  His radio is blaring ACDC or Kiss or some metal band like that.  As he zooms past our house, my Dad aggressively shouts “Slow down!”

And time slows … and slows  … and  …  almost stops.  The moment I frozen and I feel frozen, powerless to move a muscle.

          The guy flips Dad the bird. 

          “Do it again and I’ll break it off,” my Dad shouts.

          The ACDC guy in his muscle car slams on the breaks and jumps out and up and up.  I see his thick mop of dark hard, black t-shirt, sloped shoulders, barrel chest and large gut.  If this guy didn’t present as such a slacker, he could be a linebacker.  He’s got to be 6’2”, 250.  To my 9-year-old eyes, he looks like a bruiser, a real giant.

          And my Dad looks like a shrimp.  He’s 5’10”, 170lbs soaking wet.

          I look at the bruiser and at my Dad, and I am scared.  I think, ‘my Dad is going to get killed, right here, right now.’  I am shivering, trembling with fear.  A moment ago, I was carefree, playing with my brother in the driveway.  Now I am so scared.

          My Dad doesn’t miss a step.  He grabs a shovel and marches right up to ACDC guy.   Dad sticks his finger in the bruisers face.  I don’t hear the conversation.  I just hear a sound that is far more powerful and intimidating than this tough guy, this Gene Simmons wannabee.  It is the sound of my Dad’s raised voice.  That sound typically ends whatever naughty behavior I am into.  Now that sound is unleashed on this clown who races through residential neighborhoods.  Dad is animated, mad, and he has a shovel.  The bruiser’s slouching shoulders slouch a bit more as he tucks his tail between his legs, lowers his head, and drives away slowly.

I do not know the exact year of these events.  I do not have any way of verifying the factual accuracy.  What I am sharing, in narrative form, is my perception of what happen and the pictures painted by my memory are cloudy.  I am not affected by what actually happened.  It was about as insignificant as an event could be.  There were words exchanged and it was over.  I shaped by my perception of it all and how that perception was a part of a larger narrative I was writing, a narrative that produced the lens through which I viewed the world. 

How did that event affect me?  First, of the thousands or millions of experiences big or small that I have forgotten, this one I remember.  Why?  Why did this make such an impression?  I know exactly why.  I was scared out of my mind.  And my Dad wasn’t scared at all.

          I have not researched the conventions of grammar, but I don’t think the word ‘dad’ is to be capitalized.  It is a role, not a proper name.  But in my story, it must be capitalized.  If my story were written down on a page, the writing would be across a page with my father’s face filling the page.  He was over everything. 

          By this, I do not mean that he was tough or abusive or anything like that; in fact, it was the opposite.  Sure, my dad spanked, and until I was an adolescent, I was afraid when he did.  But far more often, Dad was a source of fun and love and safety.  For every spank there was 1000 tickled and not the tickle of the torture variety but of the fun variety.  My Dad laughed with his kids – a lot.  And we laughed with him.  I could go to sleep at night without fear because the dragonslayer was watching my house.

          Recently as I reflected on the incident with ACDC guy, what it meant to me became clearer.  Because Dad was fearless (in my eyes), as long as I was under his protection, I could be fearless.  My home was a place of safety not only for me, but sometimes for kids from homes less stable than mine.  I had friends who would come to our house because our house was the stable, safe place.  However, looking back now, I realize that all that time I was internalizing something, although I certainly was not aware of it then. 

It looked to me like the Dragonslayer was saying to the Dragon, “Get the hell out of my neighborhood and don’t come back.”  And the dragon sheepishly looked to the ground, kicked the dirt, and mumbled, “Yes sir.”  That’s how it looked to my 4^th grade eyes when Dad confronted ACDC guy.  That is how I understood what I was watching.

Deep within me, I fell into a dilemma.  I knew as a boy, I would grow into a man.  I had my model.  Until I entered adolescence, God lived in my home in the person of Bob Tennant.  Only as I entered manhood, did he begin shrinking.  There was a slow almost imperceptible change.  Dad became what he always was, just a man.  I began seeking God apart from my parents (both of whom represented God for me in my young years). 

However, as I think back to that day when I watched him intimidate the dragon, I realized I needed to someday become a man myself.  There would come a day when Dad was not around and I would have to be the one to face the dragon and slay the dragon.  I was scared, but being scared is not allowed because my Dad was never, ever scared, or so I thought, I can’t do that.  He was not scared, at all!  I am too scared.  I can’t do it.  Admitting my fear made me ashamed. 

Any time in my life I have felt fear that has transferred to self-loathing.  Indiana Jones is never scared.  Jason Bourne is never scared.  Captain America is never scared.  Dad is never scared.

And there was born in me, an evil loop. 

Devil: “A man does great things.  Rob, to be a man, you must do great things.”

Rob: “But, I can’t.  I am scared.”

Devil: “Your Dad is never, ever scared.”

Rob: “I know, but I am.  I do get scared.”

Devil: “Then, you’ll never be a man.”

          To be clear, my Dad never did this.  Dad never, ever said to me, “You’re not man enough.  You’re not tough enough.  You’ll never amount to anything.”  Dad did the opposite.  Dad was the ultimate encourager.  Dad always said to me, “You can do it, Rob.”  I now am a leader in an institution (a pastor of church) that requires me to weekly do what many people fear greatly, speak in public (the weekly sermon).  I am convinced that I am able to do this with confidence because all my life I have heard from both parents, “You can do it.”  Both of my parents built me up and have supported me all the way.  The imagined conversation above between Satan and me, and deep in my soul more real than imaginary, did not come from my Dad.  He never made me feel ashamed of being afraid.  He never said, “What are you, a baby?”  I promise that I am not just denying his posture.  My Dad was not perfect at all.  He made mistakes.  Shaming his kids was not one of them.  My brother and sister would have to share their own perception, but I do not ever remember my Dad shaming me or criticizing me for being afraid.  I remember my parents heaping encouragement on me.  This shame based in fear came from my own perception of things. 

          A turning point happened years later.  We had moved to Virginia and I was playing high school football.  I was in great shape.  My younger brother and my Dad and I would wrestle in our living room. I was physically strong enough to pin both my brother and my dad at the same time.  My independence was bursting forth.  Yet, psychologically, my Dad was still the man in that house, I still the boy. 

Yes, I was a bigger and stronger boy, but I still grappled with the same dilemma. 

                   Devil:  “Oh, you’re bigger and stronger now.  But still afraid.”

Rob:  “Yes.  The other wide receivers are faster and taller, and they’ve played more years of football than me.”

Devil: “Your Dad was never bothered by being smaller.  He was army infantry.  He was a war vet.  He was a hero.  You’ll never be one.”

Rob:  “Hey!  I am on the football team.  Most guys my age aren’t even on the team.”

Devil:  “Yeah, but you’re not a starter and you never will be.  You’ll never be the man your Dad is.”

Rob: “Wait a minute!  My Dad didn’t play football.  He was never really into sports much.  I am an athlete.”

Devil: “Tell yourself that when you get flattened in practice tomorrow.  You’ll always be a junior varsity benchwarmer and everyone knows it.”

Rob: “Yeah.  I guess that’s right.”

          The conversation was different.  I had things I could say back to devil.  I could put football team member on my “man resume.”  Later on I went through army infantry training and I put that on the “man resume” I was keeping this resume in my head.  I never needed to write it down because I went over it almost daily. 

          I remember myself as a junior, about 5’ 9”, 170 lbs.  I was playing free safety.  The fullback had the ball and a full head of steam.  He was 6’ 3”, 240 lbs. and he was coming.  He got right in front of him and stuck my shoulder in his sternum, my facemask on the ball.  A second and 4 yards down field later, he was down.  I had tackled him!  I felt like I had been run over by a truck, but I tackled him.  “Good job, Tennant!” I heard the coach say.  Every moment like that was me slaying that dragon, trying to fill my role as the dragonslayer’s son.

          I am lousy long distance runner.  My body hates that constant pounding on the pavement.  I have never felt that “runner’s high.”  However, in army basic training, I did complete the 5-mile run at the end of boot camp.  A marathoner would call that a short day, but for me, I was once again reaching for the goal, trying to live up to being the dragonslayer’s son.

          Now, I am a 44-year-old man, the father of kids aged 12, 7, and 5.  I see how my children look at me, like a dragonslayer.  I don’t see any point in trying to convince them that they don’t have to live up to a role.  They will be controlled by their perceptions just as I was.  I cannot control how they perceive things any more than my dad could control my perceptions.  I need to do for them what Dad did for me.  I need to be available through everything, all the good and the bad.  I need to celebrate as our relationship changes through the years.  My dad definitely did that. 

I told him I’d be writing this.  He recalled my high school years.  He recalled coming to the realization that he could not control me physically anymore.  From about 16 on, I was the strongest one in the house.  Yet, something beautiful began to happen as the relationship changed.  As I became an adult, my parents transitioned into the role of good friends.  They are still parents to me, but now, they are people I simply enjoy being with.  I know I’ll be encouraged and supported.  I know they will help me however I need.  I know they will love my kids.  They are human-sized.  And, as I am a pastor, they sometimes ask me questions about God. 

I still struggle with feeling shame when I am scared.  How can a real man shake with fear?  Clint Eastwood never would!  I still hear those voices.  About two years ago, there were a series of break-ins in our neighborhood.  For many nights, I lay awake wondering how I would response if an intruder broke in.  Would I stay composed?  Would I be quick enough to save my kids and wife?  Would fear make me completely ineffective?  I still hear the questions in my head and sometimes cannot sleep because of them.

Another question is even more important.  Would I love the invader with the love of Christ?  The tough guy action hero would never ponder this, but I know someone who might: my dad.  As much as I built him up to be some kind of superman when I was a kid, I am so pleased to know as a man that he asks this question.  He is just like me, a follower of Jesus trying to live his life as Jesus would live it.  In that sense, I still want to be like him.  Copying him on these lines, trying life a with-God life, is a good thing. 

The lingering fears about a failure of manhood aside, I am in a healthier place now, a place that includes me being gentler with myself.  I will never run a marathon or climb Mount Everest and that is OK.  I will probably never jump out of an airplane or go scuba diving, and that is OK.  The measure of my manhood from Heaven’s perspective is this: am I doing my best?  Am I loving as Jesus loves? 

The dragon to be slayed in my life is the dragon of self-loathing, self-loathing that starts with fear.  That dragon is not yet dead, but definitely is mortally wounded.  I need to stay turned toward God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  I need to give myself grace.  And, I need to give loads and loads of grace to the most important people in my life.  There is no room for self-loathing in the giving of grace.  And, in the midst of self-loathing, I don’t think it is possible to give grace.  Only Jesus at work in me can kill the dragon.  He, not my dad or any man is the true dragonslayer.  I need him at work in me and I need to practice being his child by giving grace in droves, starting with those closest to me including myself.  

Easter Fear

The women who followed Jesus came to his tomb after the crucifixion.  They were completely buried in grief.  They had absolutely no expectation of seeing Jesus alive  So, the appearance of the angel made them "terrified" (Lk. 24:5).  The Greek word is 'emphobon,' a derivative of the Greek word that is the root of the English Phobia.  

The word is used almost exclusively in the New Testament by Luke (who wrote the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts).  The one place where use by another New Testament author is noted by the Walter Bauer Greek-English Lexicon (1979 revised edition) is Revelation 11:13.  There God exacts judgment (represented by an earthquake) so severe, thousands die and the capital city of the empire is thrust into panic-stricken fear.  It is the type of terror people felt during the terrorist attack of 9-11, 2001.  In Revelation 11, 'emphobon' connotes absolute horror.

Luke's uses of the term are in circumstances of the scale of a cataclysmic judgment.  His uses likely involved subtle moderation of the meaning.  He wasn't depicting something like the Red Sea splitting wide open or a great ocean liner like the Titanic going down.  Still, he chose a word that elicits the sense of great fear.  This is not so much reverent fear; it is terror and shock.

The women stumbled their way to the grave with immeasurable grief clouding their vision.  All was gray until the brilliant colors of heaven ripped through the fog with the appearance of the angels.  

The same word, 'emphobon' describes the fear that washed over the disciples later on.   But they weren't encountering angels.  They were talking in a group when suddenly, the risen Jesus was among them (24:36).  He said, "Peace be with you," but they were terrified.  His inviting love drew them past their fears and to him.  They returned to Jerusalem with great joy (24:52).  Their joy was such that no persecution from Greek, Roman, or other force could hurt them at all.  The resurrection was that scary and then it was that empowering.

 I worry that Christians have lost both the fear and the joy.  Resurrection happened so long ago and we find ourselves so comfortable in the world, that we sing heartily on Easter Sunday, but we don't live the reality we sang once Easter Monday arrives.  I sincerely believe each who would dare call himself or herself a Christ follower needs to seek him earnestly and persistently until He will be seen in fresh ways and heard in louder voices.

This diligent seeking of an encounter with the risen Christ must be accompanied by an uncomfortable honesty.  We have to be absolutely conscious and true about who we are - especially about our sins and how they corrupt the goodness of God's creation.  If we do that, the moment with God will come.  It will be as unexpected as the resurrection was for the women at the empty tomb.  When we are surprised as we will be, then we will be horrified by God's holiness shining next to our sinfulness.  We will be revealed and it won't be pretty.

We need that moment of fear.  Only when we are that aware of who we are can we then receive Jesus' gracious invitation to enter into His peace.  Moving from fear to peace, we will be filled with the resurrection power that changed the first disciples from hiding cowards into bold apostles.  When we enter that resurrection peace of Jesus, nothing in the world around us will appeal to us in any way.  

The first Christ followers were threatened with arrest, floggings, excommunication, and execution.  American Christ followers in the 21st century are lulled by materialism and deceived by patriotism.  When we are filled with the resurrection, the truth and reality of it, we will see the materialism around us for what it is: an illusion of happiness.  We will love our country but also understand what it is: a temporary thing destined to pass away.  We will know that which never dies, Jesus and all who are in Him.  

To fully "get Easter" and to live as Easter people, we need that moment of fear that then leads into the peace Jesus gives.  We all need it and when we have it, we live differently, never to go back to who we were.