Faithful Provocateurs (St. James)

Hebrews 10:23–25 NRSV

23 Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Friends, our community of Presbyterian churches, here in Bellingham — we need this message, all of it, to continue to push us deeper into following Jesus, here and now. It bears reminding, repeating, rediscovering.

I’ll say two things at the outset.

First, today, more than anything, when we hear the call from Jesus to come, receive grace, find rest, and let our weary souls find comfort…hear that call with full affirmation. Jesus says come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, with great burdens, and find rest.

There are times we need to be comforted and this is the place to receive that. Come, rest. Are you afflicted? Are you hurting? Find rest here, in the family of God.

If that is where you are today, be well, be welcome, and know that you are held in God’s loving arms.

Now, the second thing I need to say is this: I am here to disrupt and provoke you. Or, more accurately, we must be open and willing to the disruption and provocation that the Way of Jesus leads us into. To follow Jesus, we must be ready for change, a shaking up, and a reordering of our lives.

Our passage this morning calls for this reordering and remembering of our way, that we must collectively pursue, work together on, grow deeper in through life together.

One of my early mentors in ministry instilled this simple lesson in me that has guided how I preach, serve, care for others, and seek to follow Jesus. And that lesson is this: Our work is to “comfort the afflicted”…and afflict the comforted.

So if we enter into this space today at great ease and “feeling pretty good” then the work of Jesus is to disrupt and provoke you, me, all of us on to love and action, right here and now.

The work is not over.

Growing up, I was familiar with this passage, but remember the translation as “spur one another on” to love and good deeds. To spur on conjures up images of a horse and its rider, the horse driven on by the nudge or outright prod from the rider’s heels or whip. We see the lone ride out in the desert, riding fast to their destination to deliver a message or save the day. In that connected relationship, the rider spurs to push the horse on, each knowing that upon reaching the destination, the impassioned action will cease and rest will be found.

Not many of us are out riding the range these days, though. And we don’t talk about spurring much anymore. If that language is more helpful than what we explore with today’s Scripture, I invite you to play with it. What would it look like to be spurred on towards love and good deeds? What would it take, for you?

But our reading today, in the New Testament Greek, uses the word more closely associated with provocation. Provoke one another. This word has a really helpful sense to it, a way we can hear it that gets to the heart of what it means to be faithful provocateurs with and for one another.

Along with provoke and spur, we can add in the sense of irritation or even strong disagreement. Or perhaps rouse or stir up. It is a call to wake up and pay attention to your life.

So, today, I pray the way of Jesus will provoke you.

Like a grain of sand in the mouth of an oyster, the message of Jesus should be an uncomfortable word to us, something that feels gritty, irritating, provoking us to move, act, realize our gifts as we serve and love one another.

Disruption and provocation can arise slowly, like that irritant, especially as we journey with Jesus through our lives. But it also finds us in these very moments and calls us deeper trust of Christ by how we yield to God’s way.

Think about it: Jesus, met by the student of the law who questions him about who is his neighbor, here’s that his neighbor is the outsider, the pushed aside, seen in the example of the Samaritan man helping his Hebrew neighbor.

Or the rich man, who seeks wisdom from Jesus and instead, is directly challenged to sell everything he owns and pick up his cross to follow Jesus.

Or the sharp words to Peter, who would find a way to circumvent this road to the crucifixion by sparking a riot — Get behind me, evil one, Satan — Jesus says. Do not meddle with God’s plans.

Who’s feeling a little uncomfortable?

Pastors Greg and Doug are also preaching on portions of this text and from them, you will hear a call to common friendship around what we share, not what divides; and you’ll hear a provocation to keep getting together, to keep showing up and walking the road with one another.

It’s safe to suspect that we don’t like this idea of being provoked. We think of images like bating an animal, poking the bear, or even the ways that being “provocative” can be enticing or alluring. But what I hear in this text and in the whole of the book of Hebrews (which narrates the arc of Scripture for Jewish Christians scattered through the Roman Empire), is a call to keep pushing one another along towards love of God and love of neighbor. Even when this pushing, prodding, poking, and provoking makes us uncomfortable.

We’ve lost the positive understanding of being provoked.

As a student at The Seattle School of Theology & Psychology, where I studied and received my Masters of Divinity, then President Keith Anderson addressed the student body at one of the annual commencement weekend addresses. He described the ethos behind the institution’s mission, which trains pastors, artists, and therapists. At the core of their work and their belief about how they were encouraging, empowering, and equipping new leaders was this: We want to mobilize faithful provocateurs for change.

Hear that: Faithful Provocateurs.

Behind this statement is that the world was (and is) at a junction where old ways of being faithful witnesses in the world had lost their salt, their edge, and that we need a new imagination for what it means to faithfully push on and being a presence for change in the world.

Years ago, I was on staff at First Presbyterian Church working with students from Western Washington University with a ministry called the INN. Some of you have heard of it, I’m sure.

Back in the early 2000s, when I was a student here at the INN, we used to sing this song called “Stir in Me.” The song went like this:

Stir in me, a fire that the world can not explain, I come to worship you. Stir in me, a passion that my heart can not contain, I come to worship you.

Hold me, break me, Mold me and make me more and more like you. I come to worship you. To love you, fear you, Draw ever near you as I worship you, I come to worship you, O Lord.

This song is a bold prayer. Think about it: How often do you find yourself saying, God, break me and make me like you?

I find many of my prayers, at least on the surface before I let myself submit to God’s deep work in me, sound a little more like “Keep me, maintain me, let how I am be what you need, and don’t push me too hard.”

But no, the statement is stir me. Very much akin to provoke me, mess with me, break me up so that I might be built more wholly to serve you, Lord.

I come to worship and draw near to you, O Lord, so that I might be more like you. Another song we commonly sang at the INN had a line that said, “break my heart for what breaks yours.”

Do we pray that our hearts might be broken? Friends, this is what it looks like to be provoked, properly, by God. God, break my heart and move me to action, move me to love, disrupt my complacency, disrupt my static position.

Jesus’ words are a call to deep disruption and a turning over of all we would prefer to place first in our lives. Jesus calls us to leave comfort behind, to reach out to the hurting and the poor, and to give our lives away to this work. Maybe that’s more comfortable language for you: what is Christ provoking you to give up, to let go of? Do you resist it? Why?

So often, I just want things to stay the same. I want my world to be safe and stable, because on the surface, so much of what we witness in the world is far from safe and stable.

But if we dig in deeper, if we truly ask for this movement of God in us, we will find that it pushes us into uncomfortable, disruptive places.

Over my career in ministry, I’ve realized that part of how God has made me and called me is to be something of a provocateur. I’ve found myself, repeatedly, in situations where I’ve needed to be someone who says the uncomfortable thing, but the thing that must be said. Sometimes its a prophetic role. Sometimes it’s a teaching opportunity. And most of the time, it’s the kind of role that makes people less than comfortable. It involves risk and tests our strength.

I get so worked up when I know I need to enter conflict or uncomfortable spaces. It makes me shaky, emotional, and fixated. AND, because of my peacemaking tendencies — it is exactly what I need to do — I need to enter conflict, because that is where I find my holy fire.

So what does provoking one another to love and good deeds look like?

If we have forgotten who we are meant to be, we can start back at the center, the greatest commandment.

Remember. A man came to Jesus to ask what was the greatest commandment.

Jesus replied, Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. AND, love your neighbor as yourself.

Love God, Love Neighbor.

Loving God, loving neighbor, and being a faithful provocateur should be a natural outpouring of us sharing our gifts and encouraging others.

I’ll close with three stories, that on the surface are actually pretty mundane, but at a deep level, have provoked and pushed me along in my calling to serve Jesus. I have to say, it’s fun to share stories of ministry in this context…because I can’t really say “well, there was this one church I worked at...” and have it not be First Pres, Cordata Pres, or St. James. When I tell stories, I’m talking about y’all! :)

The first story was here. Early in my discernment process of serving in ministry, I was quite nervous about where I would fit in. I always felt like a “junior member,” a backup pastor, the young guy who might someday have a role to play.

One Sunday, I guest preached at FPC. I can’t say I felt great about it, but was warmly received. And then, provoked. See, provoking isn’t always antagonistic. In fact, provoking is something that we can sometimes do unintentionally.

I will never forget the brief, provocative conversation I had with an elder member of the FPC congregation in the narthex after the service. His simple message to me was: “Keep going, keep pushing in. Own your calling.”

We might call this encouragement, but in a real sense, it was provocation in how it stirred me to see God’s imagination and plan for my life in a disrupted, new way.

The second story comes from Cordata. My first Sunday here, knowing almost no one. I had just finished up leading music and was preparing to pack up my guitar and head home. I had no idea if folks had felt connected in worship or if what I’d offered was adequate.

A gentlemen, who I must admit, I’m not sure who it was (but I have a pretty short list of folks who I like to think would do this), came up to me and got right into my face. I was worried. This could go south, real quick. But, instead, he simply got right up close to me and said this (my words, not his): “Don’t put up with any of the nonsense. Do what you do and don’t let anybody give you any nonsense.” Again, my words, not his. ;)

His provocation was simple: stay true, don’t waver. Follow your calling. When we are tempted to blend in or play it safe, Jesus uses people to push us towards living his truth boldly.

This person provoked me and stirred me and I am so grateful for this.

Finally, a slow and steady provocation visited me in the first months of my time at St. James. There was a long time member who made themselves available to me almost weekly, stopping by the church to check in and see how things were going. These informal check-ins stirred me because this person was one of the only folks who willingly sat down and helped me learn the congregation. Like, they told me stories of the history and the good and the bad and the conflicts and the flourishing. They agitated me by sharing about all the shortcomings of the church. And they encouraged me by offering insights into how we could work together and grow closer. They provoked me to have a broader imagination for ministry and the congregation than any piece of written history or biography could offer.

They provoked me to love the congregation, drawing me in.

These three stories and, I’m sure, the many you could tell in your own lives, are instances of mundane reality running right into the powerful push of God. God uses us, each other, to disrupt and stir a reimagining of calling and service and life and love. To come, die to everything we hold dear, and follow. If we would only pay attention.

Provocation takes many forms. Sometimes, it’s a hand grenade, lobbed in to disrupt our whole worldview. It asks everything of us, a movement towards loving God and neighbor that may prove costly and uncomfortable. Other times, it’s a simply, subtle whisper of encouragement from that person who sits far away in the balcony. It can be a simple act of kindness. Or it can be a prophetic movement of action. Friends, whatever form it shapes, the test what it causes in us. Does it stir us on, deeper into love? Does this disruption open us more deeply to who God intends for us to be and how we live and give and serve and care?

I pray that you would find your comfort here, that you would rest your weary souls. AND I pray that God’s Spirit would actively disturb and provoke you, through the gifts of each other. I pray that we would not be complacent, but bold in our love, bold in our care, bold in how we encourage and provoke one another along.

So, in the peace of Christ, go and be faithful provocateurs. The world needs it and it is our calling as followers of Jesus. Amen.