Printer Friendly VersionThis is the season we celebrate Christmas. The shopping has
begun. The countdown of days left to make purchases is underway. Jewelry commercials
are dominating the airways. People are passing by the Salvation Army bell
ringers as they go in and out of the mall looking for just the right gift.
It’s Christmas!
This is the time of year when we decorate with lights, greenery,
and all the symbols of the season. We sing carols. We greet the people we
pass with tidings of good cheer, “Merry Christmas!” We rejoice
in the most wonderful time of the year, the happiest season of all. It’s
Christmas!
This is also the time of shadows, deep and dark shadows. The
sun is becoming increasingly short-lived in our sky. When the storm clouds
come, one wintry front on top of another, we wonder if it is ever going to
shine again. It is the season of the year when light is scarce and shadows
and darkness reign. It is a time when depression intensifies and suicide grows
in popularity. It’s Christmas?
Shadows. We recognize their presence. We have come face to face
with shadows throughout this very week, haven’t we?
A hunter’s tree stand becomes a site of controversy, and
suddenly shots ring out, and six people lay dead; all over a tree stand. Or
an angry motorist reacts not with his horn but his handgun, and a poor driving
decision results in a tragic death. Shadows.
A war-torn land; a number of people die in the fighting. But
they aren’t numbers just to be reported on the evening news. They are
people, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers. The bullets
flew. The bomb exploded. In one awful instant, there lives were snuffed out.
Shadows, deep shadows.
A husband and wife whisper, “I love you, and good-bye,”
to one another as the husband lies dying and the wife dreads his departure.
Shadows, shadows laden with sorrow.
A corporation doesn’t know if it can stay financially
solvent, unless it takes drastic action. So the lay-off notices go out. Thousands
of jobs lost. An entire community devastated. Families struggle to survive.
Financial pressures mount; bills to pay, food to put on the table. Then Christmas
is around the corner, and we have to find the money to do something for the
kids. Someone commits suicide. Shadows, heavy, hard shadows.
Oh, but there’s more:
Disputed elections disrupt the latest attempt at democracy.
Riots disturb the tranquility of a major city and an innocent
bystander is killed in the violence.
Another youth is murdered in a drive-by shooting.
A wife was battered and abused last night.
A husband came home from work on Friday to find his wife gone,
and the prospect of how to raise his children alone staring him in the face.
Shadows, gathering shadows.
Then there are the multitudes caught up in a lifestyle of living
in dependency upon the latest pill they can swallow, or the alcohol they can
consume, or pictures they can lust over, or the pain they can cut into their
dulled senses. Anything to create a buzz, to give relief, so they can make
it through to the next day. Shadows, oppressive shadows.
Jesus prepares His disciples for such shadows. As you read the 13th chapter
of the Gospel of Mark, it begins with the disciples and Jesus walking out
of the temple. The disciples comment on the magnificence of the temple. Jesus
turns to them and says there is coming a day when “Not one stone here
will be left on another; every one will be thrown down” (v. 2).
The disciples and Jesus then journey up to the Mount of Olives,
and a small group of disciples—Peter, James, John, and Andrew—gather
near to Jesus and say, “Tell us, when will these things happen?”
(v. 4). So Jesus tells them. He tells them about nation rising up against
nation, and kingdom against kingdom (v. 8). He tells them about earthquakes,
famines (v. 8) and disasters, disasters like hurricanes that rip people’s
lives apart. He cautions them about deception and falsity (vv. 6, 21-22).
He warns of betrayal (vv. 12-13) and persecution (vv. 9-11). He informs them
of a coming desecration of holy things, a time of sacrilege (v. 14).
“There is horror on the horizon,” Jesus warns. The
horror is such that if someone is on the housetop, they shouldn’t try
to come down; or if they are in the field, they shouldn’t try to go
back for their cloak (vv. 15-16). Instead they should flee; the horror is
going to be that awful.
What is Jesus’ purpose in this litany of horrors? Does
He like seeing the shock, fear, and dread on His disciples’ faces? Is
He offering interpretive clues so His disciples might be able to read the
times and establish a timetable for His return and the end of all things?
Or is Jesus preparing His disciples, trying to help them understand that life
in this broken world is going to be difficult? Does Jesus want them to see
that life in this world will be lived in deep shadows, as if the sun was darkened,
and the moon turned to blood and failed to give its light, and the stars fell
from the sky? (vv. 24-25). Does He want them to understand that shadowy darkness
will characterize the end of this current age?
Because Bible prophecy teachers often dominate biblical interpretation
in America’s popular religious culture, we tend to assume that Jesus’
purpose has something to do with a timetable for His return; or that Jesus
wants to terrify His disciples into loyalty and obedience during His absence—the
“Thief in the Night” effect. The significance of Mark 13 tends
to end there for us. We recognize the darkness and wonder how long we will
have to endure it. When will Christ return? Can we figure out how bad it is
really going to get? Will we have to suffer, or will Jesus' rapture the faithful
out of this horror? Sometimes we even fear the future and dread the second
coming of Christ, because we dread the events that surround His coming. Is
that really what Jesus is trying to accomplish in this extended teaching discourse
in Mark’s gospel?
It is undeniable that Jesus is preparing His disciples for the
death throes of the end of this age, warning them so they are not caught unaware.
But is something more going on here? Does the good Shepherd have a pastoral
message upon which He wants His sheep to chew? There is a lesson to be learned
about a time out there in the future, when Jesus will come again. That is
true. But the lesson to be learned about that climactic moment has significance
for the present. It significance lies not just in getting our attention now
before it too late, but in offering us a picture of hope. In the midst of
deep shadows Jesus comes to us.
Jesus says, “In those days, following that distress, the
sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, the stars will
fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.” Jesus points
to shadows, deep shadows.
Then He speaks of a reality greater than the shadows, a reality
that chases the shadows with glory. This is good stuff! “At that time
men will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.
And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from
the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens” (vv. 26-27).
The reality of Jesus’ coming is greater than the reality
of shadows. Jesus’ coming dispels the shadows with the glory of God.
Here is what we must catch. Jesus shares this with His disciples because that
is not only a truth for the end of time, but it is a truth for the end times
in which we live. Yes, there are shadows; but there is also one coming to
us who is greater than the shadows.
Listen brother and sister, there is a greater reality than the
shadows. It is the reality of a Savior who comes to us, who came to us as
a babe in a manger in Bethlehem, who comes to us in the midst of our struggles
day after day in the presence of the Holy Spirit, and who is coming again.
No matter how deep the shadows get, no matter how dark it may seem—the
sun may be blotted out, the moon may no longer shine, all the stars may fall,
there may be no light—but no matter how bad it gets there is a greater
reality than the shadows. It is the reality of a coming Savior.
It is with that in mind that Jesus continues to speak to His
disciples. I don’t believe He wants only Andrew, Peter, James, and John
to hear this message. I believe Jesus wants all His disciples throughout the
ages of time to hear it. There are going to be many times when we walk through
shadows—intense, dark shadows—but we have another reality in which
we find hope. It is the reality of Christ coming to us and making all things
new, the Christ who has come, is coming, and will come again.
When we are traveling over life’s troubled seas, we have
hope because there is one who has come, is coming even now, and will come
again, one who can speak over the troubled waters and bring peace and calmness.
When we are struggling and feel captive to things we can’t
escape, we have hope because we understand there is one who has come, is coming,
and will come again, one who sets the prisoners free.
When we feel like we are dominated by disease and sickness,
we have hope because we know there is one who has come, is coming, and will
come again; one who is the divine healer who makes us whole; one who calls
himself the resurrection and the life.
When we are torn and broken by sin, can’t escape our guilt,
and feel the sting of shame, when the past dominates us, we have hope because
there is one who has come, is coming, and will come again; one who forgives
us, redeems us, and offers us salvation; one who rescues us from whatever
we need to be rescued.
Jesus wants us to understand this truth as a truth that applies
to the end time and to all of time: the Son of Man will come. In the midst
of everything going wrong, the Son of Man has come, is coming, and will come
again.
The coming of Jesus to our lives isn’t a wishy-washy hope.
There is surety here. That is the point of the fig tree. When we look at the
fig tree and see the sprouting leaves and buds on the tree, we know winter
is over. Spring has come. Summer is coming. We don’t question whether
it will happen. We have confidence summer is near. In a similar way, we can
look at what’s taking place in our world—take note of the gathering
shadows—and know the Son of Man has come, is coming, and will come again.
The shadows don’t spark fear. They nurture confidence for we know Jesus
is near, even right at the door.
Jesus then says, “I tell you the truth, this generation
will certainly not pass away until all these things happen. Heaven and earth
will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” Does this mean Jesus
is predicting the current generation of disciples—Andrew, James, John,
Peter—would not die, until Jesus’ second coming? Is this an incidence
of Jesus misspeaking? Is this a timetable reference Jesus got wrong? Or is
Jesus still stirring confidence in the truth that He comes to us in the midst
of shadows and overcomes them with the reality of His coming?
Could it be Jesus is telling His disciples His victorious coming
is certain? It is not hanging in the air as a mere possibility. It is not
a maybe out there in the future. Time may pass, but it doesn’t matter,
for what Jesus is proclaiming is already reaching fulfillment. The first disciples
experienced that fulfillment, and 2,000 years of human history cannot deny
its impact. Today more than ever, Jesus’ words in this passage hold
true; He has come, is coming, and will come again; and His coming is a greater
reality than the shadows.
The sun may stop shining. You and I depend on the sun every
day, don’t we? The minute the sun stops shining life on this planet
ceases to exist. Thankfully, the sun’s shining is a certain reality.
Jesus’ coming to us is even more so.
The moon and stars may fall from the sky. You and I depend on
the moon being there. Our whole world would become mess if the moon’s
gravitational influence on the earth disappeared. Thankfully the moon is a
constant. So is Jesus’ coming.
Everything about nature we depend upon—the right mixture
of the air we breathe, the ozone and its necessary protection, the tilt of
earth’s axis—everything we depend on may cease to be certain.
Yet there is this one thing on which we can stake our beings with absolute
certainty: Jesus has come, is coming, and will come again. Heaven and earth
may pass away. This reality will never pass away.
Pastor, are you sure you are reading this text correctly? This
really seems like a piece of end-time prophecy, designed to give us signs
of the time, so we may be prepared for Jesus to come. Are you sure this isn’t
timetable material?
I am sure it isn’t timetable material, because verse 32
says there isn’t a knowable timetable. “No one knows about that
day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Jesus isn’t giving us a timetable to figure out. He is giving us good
news by which to live in the end times.
Do we miss the good news in our bogged-down timetable calculations?
Jesus wants us to understand as His disciples that He is coming, and that
His coming is certain, the most certain thing in heaven and on earth. We can
hope in His coming. We can rely on His coming. We can be confident in a greater
reality than our world filled with shadows and live toward His coming.
This certitude is not based on whether the temple in Jerusalem
is ever rebuilt, or whether Armageddon ever happens. Thank the Lord, it isn’t
based on Russia threatening to dominate the world and initiate the final battle.
We would then have to question the certainty of Jesus’ coming, or have
to settle down for a long wait. Jesus’ certitude is based not in circumstance,
but in an understanding of the nature of God as one who is always coming to
us. The Lord has come, is coming, and will come again. When? Now, this afternoon,
this evening, tomorrow, next week, next year, or next century? Yes! He is
coming, and someday soon will culminate His continual coming to us in the
midst of our darkness with His final, forever arrival.
So we don’t know the hour, for it is every hour. But Jesus
tells us the attitude we are to have as we live in the shadows split apart
by the coming of Christ. We are to watch, be on guard, and be alert (vv. 33,
37).
Our Bible Prophecy mentality as Americans has developed this
attitude about what “watching” means. Watching is an important
thing to do, because when Jesus comes, we don’t want God to sneak up
on us and get us! Isn’t that our attitude?
There is a place for that attitude, don’t misunderstand
me. Watching means we have not forgotten the one who has come, is coming,
and will come again has given us a task. To be found sleeping at the post
of our calling given by this Master would be tragic.
But we don’t maintain that post by careful religious observance.
The crossing of all our religious “T’s” and the dotting
of all our religious “I’s” is not what the Master is looking
for upon His return. The parable about servants left in charge of the household
and left to watch the door for the master to come indicates that to watch
is not to be found asleep at the post of service when the master comes. It
implies an attitude of obedience, of commitment to the will of the Master.
Jesus has come, is coming, and will come again, and we watch in hope and confidence
for all the ways He invades our lives by giving ourselves in obedience and
stewardship to the task of a servant in His household.
Is it a watch of fear, this waiting for Jesus to come? We often interpret
Jesus’ “be on guard” in those of terms. Should we? Or is
it watching like that of children waiting for their parents to come home?
There is no doubt Mom and Dad are coming home. Their return is inevitable.
Children take responsibility for their behavior in light of their parents
coming. They know the fear of someone saying, “Just you wait, till your
Mom and Dad get home!” They watch with made beds and clean rooms. They
watch with good behavior and cooperation.
They also watch anxious to be embraced by the love of their
coming parents. It may have been a few hours or a few days, but pretty soon
Mom and Dad are going to walk in the door! The children can hardly wait. They
sit by the window. They stare out the glass door. They watch and wait for
the car to come down the road and turn into the driveway. When it does, do
you think they’re going to stand at the door? No way! They burst through
the door, running and shouting, “Daddy, Daddy! Mommy, Mommy! You have
come! You’re home! We are so glad you are here!” Then they throw
themselves into their parents’ arms.
There is an attitude of joy found in the child’s watching
for the coming parent. The same attitude is a part of this passage. For the
Lord’s coming isn’t meant to be dread, but a declaration of good
news. The everlasting light has come, is coming, and will come again; and
wherever He is present the shadows lose their power, and the darkness is dispelled.
Now I don’t know this morning how this message catches you, what you
might be thinking or feeling as you hear it. I have a suspicion, however.
When Christmas comes, many rejoice, but many also dread. We dread because
the shadows have been very dark and deep, and the finery of Christmas only
seems to compound the problem.
Christmas, however, is not about lights and greenery, eggnog
and apple cider, chestnuts roasting by the open fire, or Jack Frost nipping
at your nose. The commercialism of Christmas focuses on those decorations.
Christmas is about a God who comes to us, like He came to a group of shepherds
living under the oppression of Roman rule on a hillside in Bethlehem. In the
midst of their shadows, the angels declared peace and favor and good news
of salvation. That’s what Christmas is all about.
Don’t you believe it would break the heart of God if today
we find ourselves in the deep shadows of life and lose our hope? The very
reason Jesus comes as a babe in Bethlehem, the very reason He comes in the
Holy Spirit to us day after day after day, the very reason He comes again
to make all things new is so the shadows do not dominate our lives, but we
might live in hope in the midst of the shadows.
The Christmas season is a time to live like children, up on
our tippy toes, looking out the window of life, aware of the shadows, but
certain that Jesus is coming. We are excited because He is coming, and He
loves us, and He is for us, and He is bigger than what is the matter, and
He is the greater reality in life, not our shadows. His coming dispels shadows,
picks up broken pieces, and makes things new. We watch with anticipation.
We watch because our hope is in Him, and we know He won’t disappoint.
We watch knowing all our responsibilities are taken care of
in anticipation of His coming. We watch obeying and serving, stewarding and
honoring. We watch excited and ready to burst out the door. We watch up on
tippy toes looking out the window of the future. Jesus has come, is coming,
and will come again. We know that reality to be true. We may not always recognize
Him or understand His coming, but we know it to be promised and true. So we
wait and we watch and we invest our hope in Him!
When we light the candles of the Advent season, we take seriously
the message of Mark 13, and we anticipate, watching and waiting, waiting and
watching. We anticipate His coming in hope. This is the significance of Advent
and Christmas. This is why it is the happiest time of the year. Jesus is coming.
He has come, is coming, and will come again. And in His coming, may hope be
reborn in us today.
There is a message of good news in the shadows. Jesus speaks it. Does anyone need to hear it? Does anyone need to respond and move from the seat of despair to the window of anticipation? What I say to you, I say to everyone: “Watch!”
