“Raise the Roof but Thank God for the Floor"
North Presbyterian Church, Eau Claire, Wisconsin
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Genesis 6:11-22; 7:24; 8:14-19
Matthew 7:21-29
Saturday evenings are usually quiet nights at our home in Chippewa Falls. Much to the lament of our son – who would prefer a form of entertainment less sedate – Saturday evenings are times for reading Scripture, for meditation and writing, for bringing together the scattered thoughts of the previous week in prayer and preparation for worship on Sunday morning.
Last night, a number of distractions proved this difficult. First, it was a beautiful summer night, more fitting for walking down to Olson’s Ice Cream Parlor than sitting at home hunched over a desk. Mostly, however, the tranquility of an early-summer evening was punctuated by the booming drums and soaring vocals of an outdoor music festival over at the Northern Wisconsin Fairgrounds.
Now this was a Christian music festival, the annual Christian Family Music Fest. Nonetheless, it was loud enough to feel the beat in your abdomen, even while sitting at our dining room table. We live in a solid brick house, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t feel the thump of one band after another pounding on the floor.
In a nursery rhyme, living in a brick house is a good thing because when the wolf comes by and huffs and puffs he can’t blow your house down.
But you notice in the Gospel reading today, Jesus doesn’t talk about building brick houses, or wood houses or straw houses. This isn’t “The Three Little Pigs.” Jesus instead talks about the foundation of the house.
“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.”
David Lose, a preacher from St. Paul, tells of a close friend from California who has lived through minor earthquakes. The friend said that you’d think during an earthquake you reach for the shelves on the walls, trying to keep things from falling and breaking. Instead, you give no thought to the walls, because the floor is moving, and having the floor move is a very unsettling thing indeed. Lose says, “We take floors for granted, except in an earthquake.”
The New Testament is full of references to floors and foundations. The writer of Hebrews says God is the architect and builder of the foundation of the city. The apostle Paul, in his letter to Timothy, says the church is the foundation of truth. Paul also says true foundations are not made of gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, but are built upon Jesus Christ, who is the very cornerstone.
And in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says – and I’m quoting Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase: “The words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are a like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit – but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock. But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don’t work them into your life, you are like a carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach. When a storm rolled in and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards.”
Uh oh. There’s the catch. It seems with Jesus, there’s always a catch, doesn’t it? He says his words should become the foundation of our lives, words to build our lives upon. That sounds good. I can say, “I believe that.”
But that’s the point Jesus is making. If I say, I believe in Jesus’ words, but that’s all I do, then I’m building a house without a foundation.
As I listened to the Christian rock bands last night, I could pick out some of the tunes. One of them was pretty easy to hear: “Yes Lord, yes Lord, yes, yes Lord!” [Trading My Sorrows, Darrell Evans]
And I couldn’t help but think of the first lines of today’s reading:
“Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven.”
That’s a blow, isn’t it? That’s a note of discord to our understanding of God as giver of unmerited grace, limitless compassion, and unending love. Listen again to Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase: “Knowing the correct password – saying “Master, Master,” for instance – isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. What is required is doing what my Father wills.”
Those who would turn the Gospel into a gospel of condemnation will read that to say “you’re out, and you’re out and you’re out.” But the Gospel is instead a Gospel of redemption, not condemnation. And the Gospel of redemption doesn’t focus on who’s out but is an invitation from the master builder to build a home upon solid rock, to base our lives not on the latest whim or trendiest fad, or to put our faith in things that time and time again disappoint us, but to take Jesus’ words into our lives and build upon them the foundation for our daily living.
It’s funny, I think, that as Noah was hearing God’s word of the wrath to come in the flood to end all floods, God gave him meticulous directions for the building of the ark: 300 cubs by 50 cubits by 30 cubits. Make it a three-decker, put a nice sliding door on the starboard side at midship, full bar in the skylounge and outdoor dining fore and aft.
What, after all, was the crux of the flood and the ark and the new life that followed when the waters receded? That just as God was the author of all creation, God was also the author of this new creation, that God could bring life out of a downright deathly situation. All we have to do is listen, and then act!
Our biblical heritage is full of people who listened to God and then acted, even when it made perfect sense not to: Noah, interrupting his golf game on a beautiful sunny afternoon to build a floating barnyard because God told him it would rain for 40 days; Jeremiah, who became a prophet to Israel even though God told him, “You will go to them; but for their part, they will not listen to you,” and Mary, the young virgin, told by God she would bear a son who would become the Son of God.
A pastor friend, Jim Altman, said the message of this week’s two readings are that we need to build our ark on God’s specifications and our houses upon the rock of Jesus’ teaching.
Another friend, Don Frank, sums up the teaching this way, with which I'll close:
A young man writes a love letter to the object of his affection. “I love you so, I’d climb to the highest mountain to shout it to the world. I’d walk on burning coals just for a kiss. I’d travel to the farther reaches for but a glance of your beauty.” And the letter ends with: “And I’ll be over to see you Saturday night if it doesn’t rain.”
Our words might flatter each other or God, but God is not looking for eloquence as much as obedience. Our God is not looking for the right password, but instead for lives that reach out in love and compassion. Our words might melt someone’s heart, but our actions, quite remarkably, might change their lives.
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