June 8, 2008
Rev. Kip Gilts

            Are you as excited as I am about the new blockbuster epic drama, sure to be an instant classic movie that is only two weeks away from its release?  That’s right – on June 20^th “Get Smart” comes to the big screen.  I remember watching the television show as a kid and hearing Maxwell Smart say repeatedly, “Missed it by that much!”  I see that a lot in the gospel stories, Jesus’ followers miss it by that much.

In fact in 1516 Raphael was commissioned to paint a scene that s such an experience.  The painting is entitled, The Transfiguration and depicts two paradoxical stories in the gospels.  The stories are reported one right after the other in Matthew, Mark, and Luke.  The first story is the awe-inspiring events of the Transfiguration.  Jesus went up to a mountain to pray.  There his face became radiant and he began visiting with Moses the lawgiver, and Elijah the prophet.  Peter, James, and John were overwhelmed and, as only Peter would do, recommended they capture that moment with tabernacles for everyone.  God the Father spoke through the heavens and said, “This is my Son, listen to him.”  Power.  Amazement.

The very next story is one of powerlessness and anguish.  Apparently, while Jesus and three of the disciples were having a mountaintop experience, the nine left behind were having some real issues with a reluctant evil spirit.  We find that story in Luke 9:37-43^a.  Hear now the Word of the Lord:
 

³⁷On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. ³⁸Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. ³⁹Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. ⁴⁰I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.”

 ⁴¹Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” ⁴²While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.

⁴³And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

The Word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God. 

            In this passage Luke reported to his readers how a sick boy was given back to his father through the confrontational compassion of Christ.  So these were the stories that Cardinal Giulio de Medici commissioned the 33 year-old Raphael to capture in a painting.  It took him nearly four years and still some of the work was yet to be done, when he became acutely ill and fifteen days later died – on Good Friday.  On his death bed, he requested this picture to be his focal point.  It was used to lead the procession at his funeral.  There is no doubt that this is a powerful painting.    Raphael’s biographer called it, “The most famous, the most beautiful, and most divine.” I invite you to look at it.  What do you see?  Can you see that they missed it by that much?
 

Can you see the Anguish that brought to the father? 
 

            The boy’s father heard that Jesus was coming down from the mountain.  He had placed his hopes in the disciples who were powerless in their help.  So in the midst of this large crowd waiting for Jesus to come down, this father called out or “shouted” as the New Revised Standard Version translates.  However, I looked a little more into this word this week.  The word translated “shouted” is the same word used for Jesus’ shout from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”  This is a cry of anguish, a cry from the soul, and why not?  This man’s only child is sick, one of the spiritual hostages taken by the enemy, which seemed to happen a lot during Jesus’s day.  He had done nothing wrong that we can tell, made no pact with the devil, he is simply seized by this viscious spirit and nearly beaten to death.  The man wants his boy back – the boy to whom he had told stories years ago, the boy he had held in his arms until the little one fell asleep, the boy he had taught to walk, the boy that he had loved since the very first day of his life.  He wanted his son back.  Once you spend some time with this father, not long just a little time, you begin to understand his cry of anguish.  To say he shouted from the crowd doesn’t capture what’s going on in his life.

            A few weeks ago, we went to San Antonio for Chelsea’s graduation from Trinity University.  After a full day we left her apartment at about 10:00.  She went over to a friend’s house to visit and upon her mother’s insistent locked both locks on the front door.  Fifteen minutes later her roommate came home and tried to enter through the front door.  Finding the top locked bolted, she had to go around to the back door.  On her way around back she was walking by her bedroom window when a strange man dropped to the ground right in front of her.  He had falling clumsily out of her window, through which he had entered by pushing in the window air conditioning unit.  She shouted at him, but I can assure you that it was unlike any shout she had ever shouted, “Who are you!”

            He said, “I’m John from next door,” and ran away.  She called her dad, her mom, the police, her roommate.  She was in need of help and began to call for it right away and with intensity.  By the way, everything turned out fine.  Apparently she came home just as he was staging things to take from the house.  She startled him when she was attempting to come through the front door and he left without taking a thing or doing any harm.  Nevertheless, when people or events violate your sense of security, your shouts are much more animated and emerge from the soul more than your typical shout.

            The father in our story knew that Jesus cared about such violations of security.  He also knew that Jesus’ followers shared his ministry and mission.  That’s why he was so determined that someone hear his shouts.  “Teacher, I beg you to take an interest in my son, my only child.”  People continue to have expectations that the followers of Jesus will hear their shouts of anguish.  Listen for them.  Look at the picture.  What can you see?  Can you see that they missed it by that much?  Can you see the anguish?

Can you see the Aggravation that brought to the Savior? 

            The picture as a whole is somewhat aggravating.  There is all the power and light of the upper part of the painting, the first story; and all the powerlessness and darkness in the lower part of the painting.  This is further compounded when you look at verse one of this chapter of Luke, “Then Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases.”  And it worked, they left and as Luke described a few verses later, “went through the villages, bringing the good news and curing diseases everywhere.”  Now though they are powerless.  Look at just the lower part of the picture.   None seems together.  One is trying to find the answer in a book, others are poiting up, still others are looking away.  So when the father presents the problem to Jesus, he is aggravated.  Eugene Peterson paraphrased Jesus opening response beautifully, “What a generation! No sense of God! No focus to your lives! How many times do I have to go over these things?”  I wonder if they had slipped into the trap that so many followers of Christ do – I wonder if they began to rely on formulas rather than faith, rituals rather than a living relationship.

            There is a new Chronicles of Narnia movie out, “Prince Caspian.”  These movies are based on the books written by C. S. Lewis.  Prince Caspian begins with the four children from England wondering if they will ever return to Narnia.  They know when they do, it will be different than before.  They cannot rely on formulas.  So as the underground is coming they suddenly find themselves going back to Narnia.  Shortly after arriving, Lucy is sure that she saw Aslan, the Savior of Narnia.  The other children do not believe her and are determined to do things their own way, always a mistake, because in the middle of their adventure they realize they are hopeless, powerless, without the help of Aslan.  “What a generation! No sense of God! No focus to your lives!”

            The father in our story tells Jesus, “I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.”  Don’t you know the disciples wanted the man to leave that part out of the story? I can imagine them in the background making all kinds of gestures to prevent him from telling on them.  The word the dad uses is adunamai, or without power.  I shared with you a few weeks ago that dunamis means power – it is where we get our English word dynamite.  a-dunamis means without any of the stuff that makes dynamite impressive.  This left Jesus aggravated, “What a generation!  No sense of God. No focus for your lives!”

            I wonder if it was this that captured Raphael in his work.  The two stories seem so close together.  The power of Christ seems almost at arm’s length from the disciples, but they remained powerless against the powers of darkness.  I wonder too if Jesus still gets aggravated with his followers who rather than seek him are determined to do things our own way, under our own power.  The other night at the dinner table, we were visiting with Zachary about is future and his finances.  He protested about the timeliness of this conversation declaring, “I’m not even an independent yet!  I’m still a dependent.”  At that very moment my soul seemed to cry out to God the same words.  It is only when we realize our dependence on the power and presence of God in our lives, that we will truly begin to act on the prayer we said earlier, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”   Look at the painting, what do you see?  Can you see that they missed it by that much? Can you see the aggravation that brought to the Savior? Can you see the anguish that brought to the father?

Can you see the Amazement that brought to the crowd? 

            Granted, this is a little farther than Raphael ever got.  The amazement was after Jesus heard the anguish of the father and expressed his aggravation at a people who truly had no sense of God.  He told the father to bring his son to him.  Even as the son was approaching the evil force began to rear its ugly head.  The spirit hurled the child to the ground and threw him into convulsions.  Jesus remained focused, rebuked the spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.  It was this part of this story that really captured my heart.  It was that one phrase, “and gave him back to his father,” that brought a sense of wonder and amazement.  Everyone there was amazed, overwhelmed, in awe of the greatness of God that they had just witnessed.  I wonder about the dad.  Surely his amazement was on a more intimate level.

            It must have been 15-20 years ago that Julie walked into my office.  She was in the worst place that she had ever been in her whole life.  She thought she might very well be under attack by the forces of evil.  Her life that once felt so full, now felt so empty. Her faith that once was so vibrant, now felt so dead.  We visited on several occassions about this spiritual battle that she was having.  Then she did something amazing.  She and her husband sold their upper class home on the west side of Houston and moved into an apartment complex filled with international residents.  People from all over the world were living in those apartments and this couple decided to be missionaries to them.  She returned to my office to tell me about this and she was amazed at the greatness of God at work in her life.  I have seen her many times since that turning point in her life and she continues to be amazed at the greatness and freshness of the power of God.

            Are you amazed by the greatness of God?  Do you still have that sense of wonder, or have you become more mature like the children in Prince Caspian who have stopped looking for the Savior?  Look at Raphael’s painting of this story.  Can you see it?  Can you see that they missed it by that much? Can you see the anguish that brought to the father?  Can you see the aggravation that brought to the Savior?  Can you see the amazement that brought to the crowd?

            I started out this series of sermons entitled “Kids of the Scriptures” with the hope that each week the child would teach us a lesson.  I wondered if this child could speak to us, what lesson would he want us to learn.  I am quite certain that he would say, “The greatness of God is so close.  Can’t you see it?”  Amen.