My first year of college, I shared a room in the dorm known as “The Zoo” on campus with one of my best friends from all of my growing up days, my friend, Glenn. And he had all sorts of things on his side of the room that I didn’t have on mine, and none of it surprised me. He was a lover of music, so one of the things he had set up was a stereo system with all of those different components that went with that.
Near the end of our first year together, he was so excited because he had added a new component. It was some new-fangled thing called a compact disc player.
I can remember the afternoon in our dorm when he–almost like carrying the Holy Grail–carries this cd over, and I watched him carefully gently place it in the tray. And he asked me to sit, and to listen to the purity of the music it produced. And I did, and it was amazing.
Now he was a music lover. And I can remember saying to him, “You know, cassette tapes are good enough for people like me. I can see where you might need one of these, but I’ll never get a compact disc player.”
A few months later we had the same conversation about computers. He was a computer science major, so I could say to him: “You know, Glenn, you need one. That makes sense. But I’ll never need one. This typewriter works just fine.”
Maybe you won’t be surprised to learn that I was hesitant to give up my VCR for the DVD player. And then–it seemed like it was barely overnight that the DVD was replaced by the Blue-Ray disc, and my mind was still spinning.
When someone first showed me the email they were sending in the library at Princeton Seminary to their family back home in Europe, I told him, “That makes perfect sense for you. But I’ll never need email. I don’t see the use for it.”
Perhaps you sense a pattern. But it’s one I came by honestly, I guess, as we were the last family on the block to get a color television.
But there is something about the changing nature of our world that just makes you want to settle in. To stop at a place where you arrive, where you feel comfortable. Or safe. Or at least stable.
But that place doesn’t last too long, does it? And before long, you find yourself forced to make a change that perhaps you aren’t ready for—or maybe even one that makes you mad.
Why do things keep changing?
We get older, our bodies and minds—they change.
The last child leaves the nest—and your relationship to your spouse, changes.
Someone you love dies and you are faced with a future without them, and you know that nothing will ever be the same again.
Change.
Why does everything keep changing?
Maybe that’s why what the preacher says in Hebrews sounds like music to our ears.
The book of Hebrews is basically a sermon in which the preacher encourages the congregation to consider the way their life in faith is held firm by Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ–the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. “Keep your eyes on Jesus,” the preacher calls, saying over and over again, “and see how he is the one holding you–keeping firm your faith–no matter what you are living through in these days.”
Look up. Hang on. Remember your faith—it’s the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen.
And Jesus, the preacher tells us, he is the one who makes all of that possible.
And then there is that word—in the midst of a world where everything is changing so quickly all the time—the preacher slips in this word: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever.”
And I don’t know about you, but it just sounds so good to my ears.
Jesus—the same. Yesterday. Today. Forever.
In a changing world, Jesus doesn’t change. He’s the same. Yesterday. Today. And forever.
It sounds so amazing.
I mean, we’ve found Jesus—or maybe it’s better to say that Jesus has found us. We’ve had our come to Jesus moment, and we’ve put our trust in him. He is all that we need. And now that we have Jesus, there is no need for anything else.
What wonderful news—Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever.
Such a comforting thought…
But what happens when we remember how Jesus has always been?
Because his story is not one that simply stops when you think you’ve got him figured out to your satisfaction.
Like all living people, there is always the possibility that Jesus will surprise us by something more, by something we never knew or by something we never understood–when a new word will be spoken and everything we thought we knew has to be re-considered in light of what we’ve heard.
Because here’s the thing about Jesus. And this language comes straight from one of my favorite faith statements that the Presbyterian Church ever wrote. Here’s the thing about Jesus:
“Religious leaders hated him—because he criticized their hypocrisy, and he called out their neglect of justice and of mercy.”
We say of Jesus in that statement: You know Jesus “lived out what God wants us all to be—and we were threatened beyond endurance.”
And here’s what that threatening beyond endurance led us to do: “Blinded by our rebellion against our Creator—against God—we killed his Son when we met him face to face.”
Jesus Christ is the same–yesterday, today, and forever.
So if Jesus is the same today as he was yesterday, maybe that’s not such a comforting thought after all.
Because the Jesus of yesterday was always–always–calling the church to a more radical faithfulness—to a deeper embodiment of the grace within him—a fuller love of the stranger and a willingness to forgive sinners—and when the Jesus of yesterday turns in our minds into the domesticated Jesus of today—one we believe we have figured out and captured—well, when that happens, we’re not going to like it very much when the same Jesus leads us to hear something new.
The truth is this: If Jesus is the same today as he was for us yesterday, then we may find ourselves as angry at him as our ancestors did.
We may drive him to the edge of a cliff, to hurl him off, because he dares to say to us that outsiders have a place in the kingdom of God.
We may whisper and accuse him of heresy because we see him eating and drinking with people we think are sinners.
We may even plot to silence him—or kill him again—if he threatens what we have come to believe about ourselves or our neighbors.
Because when Jesus lives out what God wants us all to be, we have a choice to make: to live like him, or to become so threatened–as the confession says, that we can no longer endure.
Either we go. Or Jesus does.
Jesus Christ. The same yesterday. Today. And forever.
I want to confess a bit now.
I long ago came to peace with my ability to believe that something will come along that I can say, “I will never need that.”
CDs, 4k television, whatever comes after blue ray…
But when stopping at our place of comfort hits the church…well, it’s not so funny then.
Have you seen it show up in church?
“I guess it’s ok for you to have women in leadership in the church…but I don’t think it’s needed.”
Or, “I guess it’s ok to welcome strangers…but I don’t think Jesus was talking about the refugees.”
“I can see where it makes sense to forgive people who love us, but I don’t think Jesus wants us to give forgiveness to people who are really out to hurt us.”
Just Jesus being Jesus. Being the same yesterday, today, and forever—well, it cost him his life.
And it was because religious leaders like me—and maybe like you—were so threatened—threatened beyond our endurance—threatened by his radical love, his unyielding hospitality, his vulnerable forgiveness, and his willingness to show up in all the places we never expect him to be.
And Jesus isn’t going to change.
Which makes me wonder: Will we?
Will we allow what we see when Jesus lives out among us what God wants us all to be?
It’s not going to be easy. In fact, it’s been devastatingly painful for so many, including for many in the life of this congregation today.
And that’s why the first word of our text is so important.
“Let mutual love continue.”
Because here’s the thing about that. I believe in Jesus mainly because people I love told me about him. And because I loved them, I had to consider what they were telling me about Jesus. I didn’t have to agree, but my love for them required me to at least consider what they were saying.
“Let mutual love continue.”
And I recognize how difficult that can be.
Maybe you heard it in that one line: “Let marriage be held in honor by all.”
And in a world where our understanding of marriage has changed even faster than our move from dvd to blue ray, there are a lot of people divided, deeply and painfully, about what holding marriage in honor really means.
And the truth is, no matter what you believe about marriage—someone you love holds the opposite view.
And if you love someone, you owe it to them to consider that what they are telling you about what they’re seeing—that their thoughts about marriage are all about trying to be faithful to Jesus—the one we are all seeking to follow and love.
So let mutual love continue. Which means that we really ought to love each other enough to listen to our differences—and not simply drift away from the love that we have been given, the love we are called to steward in this place.
So much has changed. And it will keep on changing.
But this much is true: Jesus Christ is the same. Yesterday. Today. And forever.
And I suspect you know what that means.
It means that following him will be as messy as it has always been.
So let mutual love continue…let mutual love continue as we seek to be faithful to the One who lives out what God wants us all of us to be.
And now, let us affirm together what we believe:
The Holy Spirit is free.
The Spirit created readiness for the gospel
where the first Christians least expected it.
The Spirit often thwarted their plans
and led them in new directions.
They could not coerce or restrict the Spirit.
We affirm the Spirit’s freedom.
The Holy Spirit works in the church
but not on our terms or under our control.
The Holy Spirit works beyond the church,
even among those we suspect or scorn. (From A Declaration of Faith)
***A sermon preached August 28, 2016, with the people of Massanutten Presbyterian Church in Penn Laird, VA.
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