We Thought We Knew You

Luke 4:13-30

So, here we are...

For a good many of us, this day is a grand reunion. It has been 16 years. Time wore a few new lines and grayed a few hairs, but we know one another. There is so much to catch up on—children, family—new babies, a few funerals, new in-laws. There are some faces missing that need their stories told. Let’s get caught up...

For a few others, you are wondering who this person is. There has been something of a revolving door of faces and people leading this church, and here is yet another change. Maybe you’re thinking you need to sit back, take stock, and wait and see...maybe this one will stay; maybe not...let’s see...

But for nearly all of us, there is the sense of something new, something different—the air of excitement and anticipation any time there is a beginning, fresh start, or a box to open. 

For me, that is the moment depicted as our scripture text opened today. Jesus is a new face, a new voice, getting started. People are excited. They come out in numbers to see him. Their excitement means that he could pretty much say anything and they’d love it. Shoot—he could probably get up and read the phone book and that would be all right. There is the simple thrill of the new and that’s enough.

For us here today, we can use that jolt. Enjoy it. Ride with it. It’s fun.

There is enough constantly hammering at us from all directions, telling us that nothing much is fun right now. There are deep divisions in the world. No opinion is uttered without a sense that it is all or nothing—agree or be condemned; disagree and know there’s going to be a fight. Remember being able to watch the news without a BP cuff on to be sure you wouldn’t stroke out?

So, use this moment of good news to provide a break. Let’s enjoy getting reacquainted. Let’s enjoy getting to know one another. I’m certainly enjoying being home in North Carolina. It’s been a while. I haven’t lived here since 2002. Crossing back into North Carolina from Knoxville on I-40 at the end of six days on the road from California, I got tears in my eyes because I wasn’t just visiting. I was home. Everything looked right—heck, even the paper mills of Canton smelled right! I have enjoyed being back simply because I am back. It has been so good to see familiar faces and hear old voices. I want to savor it for a while.

And I hope you will, too. Take time to enjoy it. 

But...

We need to pay attention to the second half of this text.

Jesus literally goes home. 

It starts well enough. Everyone comes. They all smile and nudge one another—Joseph and Mary’s boy is home—I am sure they swapped whispers beginning, “Remember the time...” Some stories they didn’t even have to finish. They just started chuckling amongst themselves, remembering completely the when, the where, the who, and the what of what happened. 

Then someone started listening to what Jesus was saying...

What was this? What was he talking about?

They thought they knew him. They assumed they knew what he thought. They had strong ideas about what they presumed him to believe. 

But what was all this? Where did this come from? He’d been away for a while, but this wasn’t what they’d bargained for...This doesn’t sound anything like Mary and Joseph. 

You would probably start to see arms crossed all around, that look crossing faces that said, “Who do you think you are?” I love the simplicity of Luke’s understatement here—they took offense at him...

I guess so—they immediately rose up and drove him out of the synagogue, heading for the nearest cliff. Some problems you deal with directly! Some voices you shut up immediately.

Fortunately, Jesus slipped through the crowd and escaped. 

Now...

I do not want to court trouble right here on my first Sunday...

...but...

...one sure and certain lesson my 30 years in ministry has taught me is that you never live by your assumptions. 

Yes, I know a good many of you around this room, but sixteen years is years. That’s a lot of time for a lot of things to happen. Not one of us is exactly the same as we were. We’ve seen a lot, heard a lot, and done a lot. That has all changed us. How we see things now is not necessarily how we saw things a while ago. 

I know that is true for me. I have done a lot since I left here. I have been to California, for crying out loud—to LIVE, I mean! How I understand the world may not be how you understand the world. How I understand the life and practice of faith may be new to you. It may be different. It may be challenging. 

I hope there are no cliffs nearby!

I have a suggestion...

Why don’t we let go of our assumptions? We can hold on to what we know of one another, but realize there are whole chapters yet to learn. The world is not the same as it was. In some ways, the world is a frightening place now. Some of that stems from the simple fact of momentous change. I drove from here to Davidson when we arrived, and I am so glad I had GPS because if I relied on my memory of the roads, I would have gotten insufferably lost in a heartbeat. Nothing from I-85 all the way to my old college town looked even remotely akin to what it was. All that change is unsettling. And it isn’t just the landscape that changes, is it? How do we manage? How do we find stability?

Well, I am convinced we can still find it in Jesus. 

But even with Jesus, we need to let go of our assumptions. My invitation is that, together, we meet Jesus all over again. Let’s read deeply the word in the gospels. Let’s be ready, though, to be rocked to our socks by what we read. I promise there are moments in the Bible that will lead you to agree with the folks in that Galilean synagogue that maybe Jesus just needed to go over a cliff! But my even deeper certainty is that our hope, comfort, and direction also reside there.

Listen to that first sermon again...

Do you hear the words of comfort, grace, and welcome there?

I hope so.

That is what I want us to fix on finally. That is where the voice is to lead us into whatever is next for all of us. I wish I could tell you exactly what that is, but I can’t. We are going to have to find it together. I am going to make some suggestions, offer counsel, and maybe even utter a few directives, but before you react to any of them, note this and know this—what I say is an expression of how I believe the compassion, welcome, and grace of Jesus means for us to go.

So, let’s go. 

We have a lot of work to do.