Pentecost 4 B: Quiet & Dynamic Confidence

Posted by DJL on Jun 13, 2018 in Dear Partner | 4 comments

Mark 4:26-34

Dear Partner in Preaching,

I love these couple of mini-parables in Mark. (“Mini” in the sense that they aren’t the extended stories like the Prodigal Son or Good Samaritan, etc.) They’re small, but pack a punch. In this case, I’d describe that punch as a kind of quiet and dynamic confidence. Before jumping into that fully, let me offer just a couple of words of background information that might help.

First, what is a parable? In some ways, maybe it’s easier to say what it’s not. A parable is not simply an analogy for us to figure out, where A=God and B=Jesus and C=us, etc. Some parables do function analogically, but they are not generally an encoded message for us to decipher. They are also not morality tales or fables. There is rarely a moral at the end for us to apply. Again, some parables certainly have moral and ethical implications, but they’re not pearls of wisdom Jesus is dispensing like a self-help coach or, for that matter, political activist.

Rather, parables are narrative contrasts – Eugene Peterson somewhere calls them, more provocatively, “narrative time bombs” – that are meant to undermine our assumptions of the various “givens” and even “realities” that we accept unquestioningly and offer us a vision of something different. As you’ll remember from seminary, “parable” comes from two Greek words, para, “beside,” and ballein, “to throw.” A parable is then throwing one thing (a vision of God’s kingdom) beside another (the world as it is) to see what happens. The comparisons are unpredictable – sometimes stark, sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious, sometimes something to mull over. But because they call into question accepted “truths,” they are almost always a bit subversive, challenging and even goading us to consider other possibilities in light of God’s promises.

Second, we most frequently translate basileia tou Theou as “the kingdom of God,” and because that phrase is so entrenched in our biblical vocabulary, I’m not sure how much effort we should spend trying to change that. The challenge with that translation is that “kingdom” seems so static, as if describing some fixed place, whereas basileia is far more dynamic, describing the arenas of God’s activity and influence. Some therefore translate it “the reign” or “rule” of God to highlight that more active dimension of the word. Ultimately, these parables describe something more qualitative than locational – when we see the world as God does, and when we act toward each other as God would have us, we are living in God’s rule. That means that we can experience and enact the kingdom here and now as well as recognize that even our best efforts fall short of God’s vision and so recognize that God’s activity and reign is not yet fully present among us.

These two parables fall right into that tensive, interesting, and even exciting “now and not yet” dimension of God’s reign. As seeds grow without our effort, so also will God bring about God’s reign. It is not up to us. We can’t make it happen. Nor can we prevent it. God is ultimately responsible for bringing God’s rule and reign to bear. This is sheer promise. But it is also a little discomforting, especially when we realize – as we’ve seen in recent weeks – that God’s rule and reign and concern and activity is on behalf of everyone, even those who look or believe or think differently than we do. We can’t bring God’s reign of redemptive and surprising love and grace, but neither can we control it, moderate it, or domesticate it. And we definitely can’t stop it. In this sense, it is more like the mustard plant that, like an out of control weed, grows and spreads and can hardly be contained, even if you’re not sure you want it.

It’s a slightly unsettling promise…at least if you think about it. Kind of like the petition we so regularly pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” Do we really want God’s rule and will to be enacted among us? Probably when we or a loved one is sick, hurting, or in need. But so often we’re content with things as they are that we mouth those words with no actual desire that they come true.

In this light, this parable should shake us up a little, awakening us to the promise that God is on the move – in our life, in our community, in the world – and that God will in time complete the work God has started. In the meantime, we’re invited to enact God’s reign wherever we are, acting in the confidence that God’s promises are true. This means that when things are going well, we can take delight in being more aligned with God’s will and ways. It also means that when life is hard, when we meet resistance, or when we fail or fall far short of our hopes, that we can take refuge in the promise that God is still at work and has not given up on us or the world.

We cannot, in short, measure the strength or validity of God’s promises based on our efforts, but rather allow the promises of the God who created light out of darkness and raised Jesus from the dead to give us a quiet and resilient confidence to take joy when we see God’s reign lived out and to be encouraged and empowered to keep faith when we don’t.

In this sense, the old adage for preachers – “work like it’s all up to you, and pray like it’s all up to God” – might describe every element of our life of faith. Throw ourselves into the opportunities and challenges ahead of us with equal measures of delight and resolve, keep at it knowing that God is with us and for us, and give it our all knowing that no work done in love is ever lost and that God, in time, will draw all things together for good.

Good words for our people. Good words for those who preach to them. Thank you, Dear Partner, for your proclamation and good faith. It makes more of a difference than you can imagine.

Yours in Christ,
David