The invisible God
Sermon Colossians 1:11-20 The Invisible God?
In pastoral counseling courses at seminary my fellow students and I learned that people only make big moves or major changes in their lives at times when they feel they are in a secure, stable environment. Someone who feels threatened, or is holding on for dear life, is not likely to risk very much. (What a revelation that was!) So, in pastoral counseling, the counselor tries to create a secure, affirming, non-threatening environment. (Again, no surprise.)So today, in this secure, non-threatening environment we call church, I want to talk to you about the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Well, duh, Johnny! Don’t we talk about that in some form every Sunday? Why would today be different? Well, today IS a little different, not because it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving, but
because it’s the last Sunday in the calendar of the Christian year. Today we celebrate with Christians all over the world the festival of Christ the King. It’s okay if you didn’t know that. We Disciples don’t follow the calendar of the Christian year very closely, except, of course, we do observe Advent and Christmas and Lent and Easter. Those are the "main event" sort of celebrations. But I think it’s important that we observe the events of the calendar of the Christian year all year long because it helps us remember whose time we live in. It’s not the government’s time, even though our schedules are marked by federal holidays and tax deadlines (don’t get me started on that). It isn’t our employers’ time, even though we do depend heavily on that paycheck arriving on a specific day each month. Sometimes we forget that we really live in God’s time, and we forget that we don’t have any control over the passing of the seasons. It is God’s hand that holds the planets in their orbits and
sustains the rhythm of planting and harvesting. As people of faith, we affirm that time itself is a part of God’s creation, a gift from the One who has been in charge since day one. In conformance with that affirmation, let us celebrate today as the festival of Christ the King. Now the festival of Christ the King is an humble sort of celebration, nowhere near as well known as those other high holy days. But then, Jesus was an humble
sort of king, wasn’t he? Not at all like what was expected of him, wouldn’t you say? Isn’t it strange to read gospel passages like the twelfth chapter of John, where our king rides triumphantly into Jerusalem, the Holy City, seated proudly on the back of a – donkey? And a BORROWED donkey at that? Surely a great king deserves a better entrance than that! The ancient prophets had promised a great Messiah, a great king descended from the lineage of David, the greatest king in the history of Israel. And in that promise, the people of Israel found hope and a reason to endure the hardships that came their way. But Jesus, riding into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey, wasn’t quite what they had in mind. "THIS is a king?"
On the other hand, the lectionary reading from Colossians is not exactly a study in humility, is it? As I began studying this excerpt from Paul’s letter to the early church at Colossae, I had some misgivings about it’s selection as a passage to be read to the gathered faith community on the day when we talk about the humble king Jesus came to be. Paul’s language here is so grand, so mythical and mystical, that it seems to be out of touch somehow with the kinds of things I would normally say in a sermon about Christ the King. Listen again to a few phrases, remembering that Paul is describing Jesus to people who never met Jesus. "He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation; for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities – all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
That’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it? Does that sound like a description of a servant leader, an humble king? That sounds wonderful, Paul, but there’s just one question we’d like to ask: What in the world are you talking about? What do you mean when you say that Jesus is the "image of the invisible God?" Is God invisible? Well, I guess, technically, you’re right about that. I mean, we see evidence of the existence of God all around us, but I suppose, in the strictest definition of the word, God IS invisible. But that brings up another question. How can someone or something be an image of someone or something that is invisible? And what do you mean when you say that Jesus is the "first-born of all creation?" We need a little help here, Paul, if you don’t mind. One way to address these issues would be to say that Paul isn’t talking about anything or anyone on earth, that he’s talking about things in the heavenly realm. That’s why we have trouble understanding him. But how can Paul – or anyone else, for that matter – talk about things that are divine, the things of God, and have them make sense to us mere mortals? More importantly, for me anyhow, how can a preacher speak to a congregation about such things and make any sense? (That is assuming, of course, that anything I say EVER makes any sense to anyone but myself – an assumption of major proportions!)
As I struggled with these questions, my thoughts returned to seminary (as good a place as any for them to visit, seeking new insights to troublesome questions) to another course I took while I was there, a course titled "The Role of Imagination in Preaching." Since most of the students in the class, including myself, were in our final semester before graduation, we abbreviated the title "RIP."
One of the things we talked about in that class was the importance of imagination for people of faith. Early on, the professor reminded us that imagination is not really held in high regard in today’s world, except, perhaps, in the motion picture industry. Oh, it’s all very well for children and artists to have and to use their imagination. But in the real, grown-up, adult world, we want empirical data – cold, hard facts. If you describe an adult by saying, "He/she has a vivid imagination," most likely you are using that as a put-down. What you’re implying is that this person may or may not have a firm grasp of reality. Or, if you say about yourself, "I must have imagined it," what you mean is that you must have (temporarily, of course) lost your own normally firm grasp
on life in the real world. Imagination frequently tends to be suspect in today’s world. So does that mean that there is no place for imagination in the Christian faith? No, it does not. In fact, I believe faith is not possible without imagination. The writer of Hebrews says that faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of
things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). Is it possible to have faith, then, without imagination? I don’t think so. There are some things we cannot see or touch or smell or hear or taste, but we know that they exist. Only imagination can bring them to life. For example, try to form a mental image of someone you knew who has died. Can you form a picture of that person in your mind? Congratulations! You have just used your imagination. I think imagination is one of God’s greatest (and most under-used) gifts to us. Why is imagination so important to faith? Because it gives us a way of talking about the reality of things that cannot be measured scientifically. I like what one Christian writer ((Paul Scott Wilson)) says about what he calls the "imagination of the heart." He says: "Imagination of the heart takes our experience of the world and shows us new possibilities. It opens mystery to us. It gives us the ability both to see this world as it is, with Christ in the midst of our brokenness, and to imagine a world different from our own, a world already transfigured by the love of God." Imagination made it possible for the writer of Genesis to describe the incredible mystery of creation, how God spoke and brought all things into being. Genesis is NOT a scientific thesis on molecular structure and geological eras.
It’s an imaginative faith statement about how this third rock from the sun on which we live came to be. The Bible is full of imagination. In fact, without imagination, Christians would be incapable of communicating anything about our hopes, our fears, our faith. The way we think about God makes a difference in our lives. The way we imagine God affects how we believe in God, and what kind of relationship we can have with God. If we let ourselves settle for a God who is remote, who is somewhere out there, up there, removed from us, we’re also likely to settle for a faith that is cold, remote, and passionless. That kind of God won’t do much for us. It makes no sense at all to pray to that kind of God when we’re sick or alone or in trouble. But that kind of God doesn’t make many demands on us either. Maybe that’s the reason many folks today are seem to be willing to settle for that kind of God. That’s the kind of God some of the new Christians at Colossae believed in, and Paul knew that wasn’t the way God is. So, when we read Paul’s words in Colossians about Jesus, we understand that Paul has resorted to the language of imagination to describe Jesus to folks who never got the chance to meet Jesus face to face. Paul is trying to describe a paradox, a great mystery – that the same Jesus who had no wealth, did not occupy a position of great power and prestige in his lifetime on earth, the Jesus whose earthly life ended on a Roman cross, is also the Risen Christ, the Son of God, King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
For you and me, Americans living in the waning years of the twentieth century, those grand images of Jesus presented by Paul and other New Testament writers can be rather troublesome, can’t they? Kings are something we Americans rejected over 200 years ago. We’re just not comfortable with the concept of royalty. In fact, if the truth were told, many of us have secretly chuckled at the turmoil that has surrounded the royal family of Great Britain over these past years. We live in a democracy (or so we think). We are attracted to leaders who have the
common touch. Or, at least, we used to be. Well, maybe we need to change metaphors then. Shall we drop the image of Christ the King and substitute Christ the President? Oh, please – say it ain’t so!
Doesn’t work, does it? Christ is not one among equals. He is, indeed, as Paul describes him: "….the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation." We didn’t elect him to that position; he was placed there by God, and through Christ God has "delivered us from the dominion of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His Beloved Son." In human affairs, democracy may be the ideal. We don’t know for sure – it’s never really been tried. But in the spiritual realm, only a God who rules over all will do. And so we sing, "All
hail the power of Jesus’ name," and "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her king."
And anyhow, the real is not whether there is dominion or kingship over our lives. No, the real question is who or what exercises dominion over us. Who or what rules your life?
How do you answer that question for yourself? Who or what has dominion over your life? Is it your job? Your family? Your bank account? Fear? Desire? Or is Christ the King the ruler of your life? The promise of the Gospel is that, when we accept and proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord of our life, all the other priorities in our life fall into their proper place. Not without a struggle, of course, and the process takes longer for some than it does for others. But if Christ is truly Lord of our life, we eventually become new creations in him. In a world where, for many people, perhaps even some of you here today, things seem to be falling apart; in times of chaos and distress and disruption, isn’t it good to know who is ultimately in charge? The kingdoms of this world will all eventually pass away. But one kingdom endures. Plans for human betterment rise on the tide and trickle off to nothing. But humanity is not without hope. In times when the world seems to be coming unglued, and we feel exposed and vulnerable, and we wonder if life is really worth all the pain and struggle, isn’t it great to know who’s in charge? Isn’t it great to know that our ultimate destiny is in the hands of a God who loved us enough to die for us, and in return asks only that we live for Him? Amen
