Sermon Tone Analysis

Where do we start, where do we start from?

In our lives and with the community, in our families and in our church, we don’t start with nothing or from nothing.

It’s a little more obvious with something like our church.

I might be new here, but it’s not a new church.

Things didn’t start when I got here.

God was doing something here and among you before I was even alive on this planet.

First, that is humbling.

Because our meaning and purpose is also a gift, those are things we don’t come up with for ourselves - and if we try and take them for ourselves, we run into the original sin of the garden, of us picking and choosing what is right, what “I decided is right for me and my truth” rather than listening, hearing what God is sharing with us, giving to us, and He’s the only source of life anyway.

Dr. Iain Provan liked to remind us that we are more middled and muddled than we ever care to admit.

If we only vaguely know how our lives started, and don’t know how they will end, we can find ourselves without proper moorings to know how to live in the in-between.

We are given much from the start that we neither picked or had a choice in the matter - the time and season we were born, what era, our parents, siblings, economic and social status, and if all of those things are given, not chosen, how do we then wrestle with the question of our foundations?

So, it’s worth pausing a moment here to reflect as we get started - where are you looking for life?

Think on that a moment.

Where are you really entertaining your ideas of purpose and value and meaning?

Who are you living for?

The danger is that we can put messianic hopes and expectations on people rather than God, and then we wonder why we get let down… why people fail us.

But we’re asking for something that no one other the Jesus can give.

He alone can give us living water that will quench our thirty souls.

So what cup are you trying to drink from?

As we look at the story of Nehemiah, we will be reminded that with whatever has come before, we are invited in yet again to right relationship with a great and awesome God, who keeps His covenant of love with those who would hear Him.

Let’s pray as we begin:

With texts like Nehemiah, we’re actually stepping in part-way as it historically is deeply connected and tied into the book of Ezra, and so much history has already been underway as a remnant of Israel returns to Jerusalem to rebuild.

But as with most anything getting fixed up a second time, it never quite lives up to the first.

And there are always comparisons in play.

The danger, as we know, with comparison, is that when we compare, we either get prideful or discouraged.

If you start going to the gym and are comparing yourself to others, you either get puffed up or deflated.

But that’s not the point.

The point is that you’re there to do the long work of being or getting healthy.

And like the weeds we talked about last week, any good crop takes time… but weeds… not so much.

And with what we build the foundation of our lives from, it’s best to start right.

It’s worth taking the time, but we often get competing visions.

We’ll talk in the coming weeks about how Nehemiah had a very different background and upbringing that we’d likely expect, and he had a good life going at the citadel.

He could have just had a sad moment getting some disappointing news and moved on, but that’s not the story, and it’s not the life Nehemiah knew was worth living.

And we all live for stories, we listen, watch, read, tell, share, post, pin, tik, tok, whatever, the stories we tell define us.

One week in youth group years ago I did a little experiment.

I, however, didn’t realize that I was soon to be the test tube.

We were talking about chasing after what the world has to offer for riches and what true riches God offers to us and how when we keep drinking from one cup and then the other, we wonder why we feel sick.

The catch, and the object lesson, was this: I’d talk a bit and take a drink of the citrus Sobe bottle and then a drink from the bottled Starbucks Frappuccino.

Taking a drink from the orange gatorade like juice concoction and then taking a swig of creamy chocolaty coffee.

Either one would have been tasty.

Together, it was horrible.

And whatever preservatives and chemicals were in those also had a side reaction: when poured together, they foamed up.

It was all I could do to not throw up.

The teens had a hay-day on that one, and it became part of their story too.

Nehemiah knew the story he was in, and that shapes his entire response to a city that was so full of history and potential.

He grew up on the stories of Jerusalem at its best.

We all need stories to sustain us, guide us, and direct us.

Deprive children of stories and we leave them anxious stutterers in their lives and in the world.

We need a foundation that anchors us and we need to know the story we are in so that we know how are meant to live, who we are meant to be, and the hope we can have for the future.

And Nehemiah had tasted the cup of the conquerors.

He knew what it was to sit on the top of the food chain in the Empire.

But the Empire, Babylonian or Persian, wasn’t telling Nehemiah’s story, and he knew it.

Our foundation, like that of Nehemiah’s, is the story of God.

You might know some people who may have dismissed that story, but I guarantee you they are looking for another story to tell or be told.

And every one of us is geared for stories to shape us.

How many of you watched a TV show or a movie this week?

Pretty much all of you.

What you do if someone started whispering “it’s not real” while you were enjoying the show?

Or what about trying to teach someone, especially a child?

You don’t give them a list of facts about reality or morality or ethics… what do we do?

We tell them a story.

We remember stories.

We live for stories.

And for most of you the only thing you’ll remember from this sermon is the story of me foaming at the mouth.

But what story do we live for?

What story do we drink from?

We’ve all been handed a cup.

Might be a lukewarm Frappuccino, but it’s something.

And we all know the old saying, you can lead a horse to water, but… what?

You can’t make it drink.

Here’s the troubling bit: you can lead someone to communion, you can lead them to the Lord’s Supper, you can invite them to get to know who God is in the person of Jesus, but none of us can fill another with the Holy Spirit, none of us can drink the cup of the covenant for them.

But we are shaped by the stories we tell and are told.

When we are away a long while, we long to hear stories of life at home, how things are, and how those you care about have continued on.

Like when Nehemiah asked to hear how things were back in Jerusalem.

He was asking for the story of how life is going back in the promised land back home.

He knew the story of land, seed, and covenant.

And he gets a story that he didn’t expect.

What he was hoping to hear was a grand update of Ezra’s rebuilding of the temple, that things were continuing on along the same path when everyone was excited they could go back, but what Nehemiah got was:

Things are falling apart and it’s worse than ever.

Those who scraped by and made it back, are not in a great city or kingdom but back to po-dunk provincial life, and they have nothing to define them or give them healthy boundaries.

How many of you have ever started a remodel project?

You might come in with a vision, you might know what needs to be done, but what happen first?

It gets a lot worse before it gets better.

And usually you find there is more work than you expect.

You even start to calculate some measure for cost-overruns, but it’s still a toss of the dice once you get all the way in.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a house, a car, or cleaning out your garage.

When you start working, things get a lot worse before they ever get better.

And for Jerusalem, this is was meant to be a great moment where, having been conquered by the Babylonians, who then get conquered by the Medes and Persians, and in a surprise twist of power changing hands, the Israelites are given the go ahead to return and rebuild.

But it’s not going so well.

And there is opposition from within.

The critical thing to note here is that the walls and the gates are obliterated.

Not just knocked over, but burned to nothing.

We might not think much of a fence around our yard going down, but not only did the walls of ancient cities provide protection, but they also shaped their identity.

Having no walls meant there wasn’t a clear identity.

They were lost in open ended space.

We still obsess over walls too.

We feel safe when we’re in our ‘own four walls’ - when we’re at home, where we feel a sense of safety and security, where we can rest and recover and be renewed to step out into another day.

But what happens when those places are shattered?

(Maybe a mattress on the floor for months.

We’ve bounced back okay.)