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Weeks ago I scratched out the title of
today’s sermon, “Out of Control,” having no idea it would be
so providential. On Monday, we watched our television sets
in stunned silence as chaos descended on the campus of
Virginia Tech. The video showed police officers and students
running frantically as gunshots rang through the air. Things
were out of control. And when it was all said and done, 33
people had been killed.
Why did this story grip us the way it
did? Why were we so drawn to the tragedy that visited
Blacksburg, Virginia? Because of where it happened. It
happened on a college campus—a place where we send our
children, trusting they will be safe. Sure, we worry if they
are eating, sleeping and studying enough, but we are
confident that their lives are not in danger. And then a
moment like Monday morning occurs, and that confidence comes
crashing down around us.
What happened on Monday scares us to the
core because it exposes something we don’t like to admit:
that the places we are counting on to be safe, may not
always be safe. The events that occurred at Virginia Tech
remind us that there is just so much that is out of our
control.
Out of control. We don’t like being out
of control. We want to be in control of our calendars, our
jobs, our health, our kids, our safety. We like being in
control because it makes us feel protected. It makes us feel
secure. It makes us feel like we possess some power.
The tragic events of this week expose a
lie that is buried deep within us. This lie takes all sorts
of forms, but it essentially boils down to the belief that
life is like an XY graph: if you do X, then you will get Y.
It is the belief that if we control X, then we control Y.
And if life is like an XY graph, then of course the natural
progression should always be up and to the right, right?
Onward and upward. Bigger and better. Progress, perfection
and prosperity.
If we do X, then the people we are with
will do Y. If we just take care of ourselves, then we will
never sit in a doctor’s office and hear the word “cancer.”
If we are just good parents, then our kids will never do
drugs. If we just work hard, then we will always have a good
job. But deep down, we know this isn’t how it works. Life
isn’t always up and to the right. We don’t have nearly the
control over our lives that we want.
The real problem comes when we take the
lie of the XY graph and apply it to our relationship with
God. If we do X—say the right prayers, believe the right
things, attend the right church, give the right amount of
money—then God will do Y. “If you just trust Jesus, then
life will always be up and to the right.” But what about
when life doesn’t go up and to the right? When pain and
suffering enter the scene, or when cancer shows up
unexpectedly, or when mom or dad die suddenly, or when the
one who pledged to love us for a lifetime suddenly has an
affair, or when our kid is arrested with a bag of
marijuana?
If we believe that our spiritual lives
are like an XY graph—do X, get Y—then when things do not go
as we planned, we are left with only two options: 1) To
believe we didn’t do enough X—didn’t pray enough, didn’t go
to church enough, didn’t read the Bible enough, didn’t do
enough deeds—or 2) To believe that God doesn’t care or
doesn’t exist. It doesn’t work this way. Our acts of
devotion—prayer, worship, tithing, service—do not control
what God will do, or not do, for us. And that is scary
because it means our faith lives are “out of control.”
So how are we called to live our life
when so much of it is simply out of our control? To answer
that question tonight, we turn to the story of Moses. Moses’
story is contained in the books of Exodus, Numbers and
Deuteronomy. Remember, Moses was called by God to bring the
Israelites out of bondage in Egypt and lead them to the
Promised Land, a journey that would take forty years. It is
this journey that might give us some insight into how we are
to live our lives when so much seems out of control.
Let us begin with Exodus 16. Moses is
leading the people in the wilderness. They have just left
Egypt, and they are grumbling because they are hungry. God
provides them with manna to eat. This is where our story
picks up:
When the
Israelites saw it, they said to each other, “What is it?”
For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It
is the bread the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the
Lord has commanded: ‘Each one is to gather as much as he
needs. Take an omer for each person you have in your tent.’”
The Israelites
did as they were told; some gathered much, some little. And
when they measured it by the omer, he who gathered much did
not have too much, and he who gathered little did not have
too little. Each one gathered as much as he needed.
Then Moses said
to them, “No one is to keep any of it until morning.”
However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept
part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and
began to smell. So Moses was angry with them.
God gave them
enough provisions for the day. But there were those who
wanted more security, more guarantees. They weren’t sure if
there would be enough for tomorrow. They wanted more control
over their future, so they began to stockpile. When we are
consumed by an impulse to stockpile, driven to save and to
insure, when we seek to control tomorrow’s sense of safety
and security, we act is if God won’t make good on the
promise of provisions. When it comes to provisions, God
gives us enough for today. Tomorrow is out of our control.
If we move then
to Numbers, Chapter 9, we will begin to see a trend. It
reads:
On the day the
tabernacle, the Tent of the Testimony, was set up, the cloud
covered it. From evening till morning the cloud above the
tabernacle looked like fire. That is how it continued to be;
the cloud covered it, and at night it looked like fire.
Whenever the cloud lifted from above the Tent, the
Israelites set out; wherever the cloud settled, the
Israelites encamped. At the Lord’s command the Israelites
set out, and at his command they encamped. As long as the
cloud stayed over the tabernacle, they remained in camp.
When the cloud remained over the tabernacle a long time, the
Israelites obeyed the Lord’s order and did not set out.
Sometimes the cloud was over the tabernacle only a few days;
at the Lord’s command they would encamp, and then at his
command they would set out. Sometimes the cloud stayed only
from evening till morning, and when it lifted in the
morning, they set out. Whether by day or by night, whenever
the cloud lifted, they set out. Whether the cloud stayed
over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the
Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it
lifted, they would set out.
So when it
comes to provisions, they are given enough for today—that’s
all. And now when it comes to guidance, they are told, “When
the cloud moves, move. When the cloud stays, stay.” They are
either in camp waiting, or on the move. There is no six-week
forecast. There is no calendar. There is no schedule. They
are not told when the cloud is going to move. Sometimes they
might be there a while. Other times they are there just a
few hours. All they are given is enough guidance for the
next step. That’s it. If the cloud moves, move. If the cloud
stays, stay.
Just as we
can’t control tomorrow’s provisions, we can’t control when
or what doors God will open and what doors God will shut. We
only get enough guidance for the next step. This is tough.
We want to know. We want the whole plan laid out for us:
“Just spell it out for me, Lord! Tell me where you want me
to go. Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me who I am
supposed to become.” But the story says that when it comes
to guidance, God gives just enough to take the next step.
The rest is out of our control.
No control over
provisions. No control over guidance. There is a trend here.
Follow me now to Numbers, Chapter 12. It begins:
Miriam and
Aaron began to talk against Moses because of his Cushite
wife, for he had married a Cushite. “Has the Lord spoken
only through Moses?” they asked. “Hasn’t he also spoken
through us?” And the Lord heard this.
Here we are
introduced to Moses’ sister, Miriam, and his brother, Aaron.
Miriam is the poet laureate of the movement, and Aaron is
the chief priest. They are significant leaders. Everybody
knows them.
So follow the
scripture here: “Miriam and Aaron began to talk against
Moses because of his Cushite wife, for he had married a
Cushite.” Do you know what the land of Cush is? It’s
Ethiopia. He married a black woman, and they have a problem
with it. But here is the deal. They don’t talk to Moses
about it. This is his family, the closest members of his
community, and they are speaking against him and his wife,
but apparently not to his face.
Then notice
verse two. Miriam and Aaron grumble: “Has the Lord spoken
only through Moses? Hasn’t he also spoken through us?” At
first they say they have a problem because he married a
woman from Cush. But that isn’t the real issue. The real
issue is jealously. “How come Moses gets to talk with God?
Aren’t we special, too?” Moses’ own brother and sister turn
on him.
On the journey,
we are not in control of where tomorrow’s provisions will
come from. We are not in control of what the next step in
the journey will look like. And we are not in control of
what relationships will undergo turmoil. We cannot always
control what significant relationship might blow up in our
face. We cannot always control what loved one might turn
against us. We cannot always control when the Thanksgiving
dinner might turn into an evening of misunderstandings and
hurt feelings. We cannot always control when a friend might
abandon us, disappoint us, or simply no longer contact us.
Like provisions and guidance, there are parts of our
relationships that are out of our control.
Following the
trend? Next is Deuteronomy 34. This is the end of the Torah.
It is the end of the story of Moses. It is the end of forty
years of wandering to get to the Promised Land. It reads:
Then Moses climbed Mount Nebo from the
plains of Moab to the top of Pisgah, across from Jericho.
There the Lord showed him the whole land—from Gilead to Dan,
all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all
the land of Judah as far as the western sea, the Negev and
the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of
Palms, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to him, “This is
the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when
I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you
see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it.”
And Moses the servant of the Lord died
there in Moab, as the Lord had said.
Moses can see the Promised Land. For
forty years he has been leading these people to this moment.
Then there is verse four: “I’ve let you see it, Moses. I’ve
let you see it with your own eyes. But you will not cross
over into it.” It is like God says to him: “You’ve been
working for forty years, through untold suffering, to get
these people into this Promised Land. I am showing it to you
now because you are not going to get to set foot in it.
Somebody else gets to do that. You, Moses, will die before
you see the culmination of your dream.”
So there is this dream, this goal. Moses
has dedicated his entire life to it, and he doesn’t reach
it. Everything he worked toward is for naught. The dream
dies. He did what was asked of him. He went where he was
told to go. Everything seemed to be moving up and to the
right, and then suddenly it was over. Just as the
provisions, the guidance and the relationships are out of
our control, sometimes too are the results of our labor.
Is there anything we can control? Return
with me to the early scenes of Moses’ story. God first
approaches Moses, because God has heard the cries of the
suffering and enslaved. God calls Moses to go and liberate
them. But Moses isn’t interested. He doesn’t care about
these people. He doesn’t care about their pain. He doesn’t
care about their oppression. He is indifferent and defiant.
But jump ahead with me to Exodus 32. They
have been in the wilderness now for some time. Moses has
just gone up the mountain to be with God. While he is up
there, the Israelites lose their patience. They don’t want a
God they have to wait around for. A God they cannot see. A
God that is too big to understand. So they decide to make a
golden calf and worship it. Let’s just say God isn’t too
happy. But here is where something surprising happens.
Notice verses 31 and 32:
So Moses went back to the Lord and said,
“Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! They have
made themselves gods of gold. But now, please forgive their
sin—but if not, then blot me out of the book you have
written.”
The story begins with Moses not caring
about the people enslaved in Egypt, but by chapter 32
something has happened. When God says, “I am so upset that
they have turned against me,” Moses says, “Don’t do anything
to them. Take me instead.” Moses moves from indifference to
“I’d give my life for these people.” He goes from, “I do not
care about their suffering,” to “I will suffer in their
place.” Moses has changed. He has been transformed.
We cannot control exactly where
provisions or guidance will come from. We cannot control
what relationships and dreams will blow up in our face. But
we can control the kind of person we are becoming. We can
control what is going on in our hearts. We can control
whether we are moving from indifference to compassion. We
can control whether we are moving from having a hard heart
to a heart that beats for the things God’s heart beats for.
There is one thing we can control: how we respond. How we
respond to the suffering. How we respond to all the twists
and turns of the journey that is life.
Let’s flip back to Exodus 13:17. Listen
to this incredible little verse: “When Pharaoh let the
people go, God did not lead them on the road through the
Philistine country, though that was shorter.” There was a
straight shot, a shorter path, an easier route, but that’s
not where God sent them. Think of the times when we wished
for a shorter, quicker way, a way that would have saved so
much time and heartache. Instead, we had to take the long
way home, with all of its twists and turns. But here’s the
deal. We would not be who we are if we had taken the shorter
route. In a life that is out of control, there is one
guarantee. Some things we can only learn from all the
curves, twists and bends of the journey.
God never promised Moses anything about
relationships or when he was going to move or where the
provisions were going to come from. He didn’t even promise
that Moses would get to the Promised Land. The only promise
God ever made to Moses was the promise to journey with him.
“No, I am not going to clean that up for you. No, I am not
going to protect you from that pain. No, I am not going to
make this easy. But I will be with you every step of the
way.”
One thing we can control: the kind person
we are becoming.
One guarantee: that there are no short
cuts.
One promise: we never journey alone. God
journeys with us.
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