"Knowing Jesus"

John 10:22-30

We live in a complicated world, a world where there seem to be no easy answers to any question. I don't mean simply the great questions - getting rid of hunger, poverty and war. I mean even the little questions. If you don't believe me, just call the folks who are supposed to help you keep your computer working! I was talking to a mechanic not long ago - I used to like working on my car. Now you can hardly do anything on your car - the average car has over one hundred computer chips in it! Fool with one, and you turn a small problem into a very expensive one! So it's no wonder, I suppose, that when it comes to matters of faith, people want it simple: "Don't give me a lot of theological double-talk, don't obfuscate, don't split theological hairs, don't use twenty-five cent words - just give it to me straight! I don't want to know about 'the hermeneutic prolegomenon of the exegetical kerygma within the Q source, from literary and historical/critical perspectives.' I don't want to know how many angels can dance of the head of a pin! I want simple, straightforward answers to my spiritual questions!"

We do not stand alone. Jesus is walking in the portico of Solomon in today's lesson. It's a place where scholarly disputations commonly took place, where local theologians liked to discuss how many angels could dance on the head of a pin, or the effects of the local blue laws. It's a place Jesus often frequented when he visited Jerusalem. The Jews, we are told - probably some who had been engaging in scholarly debate - come up to him, wanting some straight answers: "Are you the Messiah? Tell us plainly! Quit beating around the bush! Just come out and tell us!" It sounds like a simple enough request: "Are you or aren't you?" John the Baptist had asked him the same thing a little while ago. But Jesus didn't give John a straight answer at the time. He told him to take a look at his ministry. And that’s the kind of answer he gives these scholars, here. "Look at what I've done," he says. "Judge for yourself. I've told you."

Of course, he hadn’t come right out and told them – although he had hinted around at it. Why won't he just come out and tell them? Why keep beating around the bush? Don't you hate it when people are that way - especially preachers? Is he afraid he’ll hurt their feelings? He never seemed to worry about that before1 Is he afraid they'll misunderstand? If so, then this is his opportunity to explain it to them! Is he afraid of them – does he think they may react badly if he reveals himself to them? He knows already that they are going to crucify him in the end! Jesus never shirked confrontation before - in fact, already they've tried to stone him! So why the holdout?

Here in Lewistown, we have, in the space of two blocks, a Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian, Baptist and Methodist Church - all on the same street. I used to live in the little town of Pollocksville, North Carolina. Officially, there are 299 people who live there, although, after Hurricane Floyd, it's down to around 275. In our town, there were eleven churches that claim Pollocksville as their home. According to my calculations, that works out to twenty-five people per congregation, if everyone goes to church, and everyone's there! In the town where I resided before that, in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, across from our Lutheran congregation was the Roman Catholic Church, and on the other two corners of the street were two Presbyterian churches. On the other side of us was an Assembly of God, and a block down, a large Methodist church! Now, I ask you - do we really need that many churches? If not, why are they there? It's the same old story that Garrison Keillor talks about in his fictitious home town of Lake Woebegon where, he says, there is a large Lutheran Church, a Catholic church, and the little Brethren church, of which he says he was one of six members, "until the split." Now, he says, there are the Brethren and the "Separated Brethren." Which is which depends upon your point of view. Apparently, no one can agree on the message of the Bible.

One of the things I like about the Lutheran church is that we have great theology. Unfortunately, we don't always follow it. It's like the story of the old farmer who had been resisting going to the classes being offered by the local agricultural extension agent. Finally the agent asked him why he was so reticent, when he could learn better ways to farm. To which the old farmer replied, "I already know more than I do!"

We may have a great handle on theology. But that doesn't mean we have a clue concerning the Gospel. The Jews wanted to know whether Jesus was the Messiah or not. Then they could debate whether he was, in fact, what he claimed to be. It would be a stimulating intellectual discussion. But what if he had said, "Yes - yes I am!" Would it have changed anything? Would it have changed their hearts - or just led to more debate?

Sjoren Kierkegaard, the great Danish theologian, said that faith is always a leap. If you are waiting to have enough information, until your theology is all put together, until you obtain enough scientific verification, until you understand it all, to believe, you'll never get there. You either believe or you don't. You take God at his word, or you don't. You engage in endless debate, or you take the leap. That's the only way you'll ever know whether there’s anything to it.

That is what Jesus tells the Jews who are questioning him. That's what he tells John the Baptist. That's what he tells Pilate, later on. "You've seen what I've done. Now is the time to answer the call. The time for debate is over. My sheep hear my voice. They know me. They trust me. And I will never let go of them. No one can take them from me. They are mine. So, the only important question, the only relevant question is - are you one of my sheep?"

Knowing what the Bible says is important. It’s estimated that ninety-five percent of all Americans have Bibles. But less than forty-five percent have ever read their Bible. Which means that the rest haven’t a clue as to what the Gospel is. Good theology is important. Without a good theology, a good lens through which we can look at scripture, something to bring it together, we end up with all kinds of bad ideas about God and our relationship with him. But the central question of the Bible is not a matter of theological orthodoxy, or of Biblical acumen. It is believing in god's promises, and trusting that he does what he says he does. Do you believe - with your head, and also with your heart, and your hands, and your feet, and your pocketbook, and your time, and your gifts? Do you believe that, "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him might not perish, but have everlasting life?" Do you live in that knowledge through a grace-filled life? Do you get up in the morning, receiving the day as a gift from God; do you go out into the world, receiving every person who comes into your life as a precious gift? Do you believe that there are hands that hold your life, that will never let you go? Do you believe in a will that directs your life - regardless of any evidence to the contrary - that is directing you toward the completion of his work in this world? Do you truly believe that God is actually accomplishing his will through your life?

Luther said the Gospel is the looking-glass, the "filter," through which we must read all of scripture. We need to broaden that to say that it is the lens through which we read our life, and through which we understand the world. The Gospel, the "good news" of God's love for us, is the interpretive factor through which we read every event of life.

When Eleanore and I were married, over thirty-five years ago now, we knew a few things about one another - some of each others likes and dislikes, and that sort of thing. But we really didn't "know" one another. Truly knowing another begins when you enter into a relationship with them, when you take a leap of faith - to truly know someone, you must give yourself fully, completely to them. Until you are willing to do that, you can never really know them - you are always holding something back. The more deeply and fully you give yourself to that other person, the more you enter into their life and allow them into yours, the more you will "know" them. In human relationships, that "leap" is always a problem, because we fail one another, and sometimes prove unworthy of that trust. But God keep his promises. Now, there are probably still some things Eleanore doesn't know about me - and I am still constantly surprised by her. But she does know the things that are important about me - she knows my heart - she knows me so well that often I suspect she knows what I'm thinking. That can be pretty dangerous!

That's what Jesus wants for us - to know God with that kind of intimacy. The kind that no longer has to ask, "Are you the Messiah?" Or "Are you born again?" That's like my asking my wife and I whether we are in love with one another. How do you answer that question? (from, "Fiddler on the Roof") "Do you love me?" "Do I what?!" How do you put it in words? Let me put it this way - After thirty-five years, I don't know where her life ends and mine begins. I don't always know where her thoughts end and mine begin. I don't know sometimes whether, in loving her, I am loving her, or loving myself as well, because our lives, our hearts, our thoughts, are so intertwined. It’s as Jesus promised, the "two shall be one." But unless you are in that kind of relationship, you really can’t begin to understand what I'm talking about. I can bear witness to it, but to understand, you have to live it. To ask the question is to beg the question.

To know Jesus is to believe his promises, to have his life in you, and to be one with him: to think his thoughts, to be in harmony with his will, to know that you are held in his hands - to know him as your lover, your Lord, and your friend.