Raising Up Prophets

Preaching Notes

Focus texts: Deuteronomy 18:15-20, Mark 1:21-28

It was a Friday morning around 4:00 a.m. His daughter dozed somewhat fitfully on the couch next to him. She had been up to provide medicines and words of comfort and love multiple times during that night, and many nights before. My father-in-law died as peacefully as he could, given the days of pain and wasting away that had been his life for the previous weeks and months.

The breath we had been holding for so many days was then released with grief and loss, but also with relief and peace. With a sigh too deep for words, we breathed again as we put one foot in front of another into the new reality in which we continue to live. But we know we walked with arms of support around us, with prayers of strength and concern, and with love and comfort.  We learned to embrace God’s gift of death in his life as an end to suffering, and we praised God for memories that continue even now to rise in our hearts and minds and have spoken of a life well lived, well connected, well loved.

Still today, I have willingly spoken of him, the man he was, the family he helped to shape, the life he led. I say without equivocation that he was a man of faith. He was not demonstrative in the least about that faith, rarely spoke of matters of theology or ritual, especially with his pastor son-in-law. There were a few occasions over our many decades together when he would quiz me on some theological issue, a church historical event, or — and this is what puzzled him most —ask my opinion about the behavior of people who claimed faith. Most of the time, I had to join him in a shrug of the shoulders or a wide-eyed shake of the head as we examined how allegiance to Christ is lived out in some quarters.

I treasured those conversations, as rare as they were, because they invited me into the mind of a man who lived deeply, observed widely, considered profoundly, but most importantly, lived boldly. By that, I don’t mean that he was loud or brash or coveted attention, by no means. If anything, he was the opposite of that. He was a quiet man who lived his convictions more than he declared them. And in so doing, he redefined for me what it means to be a prophet of God.

He would shy away from the designation; I have no doubt. But someone who lives as an example of obedience and service, who puts caring for neighbor above self, who remains faithful to his covenants, and abides by his own word is an example of the prophet raised up in our midst. At least that is what comes to mind as we ponder the words from Deuteronomy, our first text for this week.

“The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet”  (Deuteronomy 18:15 NRSV).

We tend to focus on the hard stuff. There is a high calling to the role of the prophet; there is an appropriate warning that such a calling not be taken lightly. There are dangers, threats, and life and death wrapped up in here. That is important to acknowledge. We are often far too casual about these faith issues, as if they were only trivial matters like what to have for lunch or what to wear on a Wednesday, instead of the deep issues of value and purpose, of meaning and eternity. So, be reminded; pay attention to how you speak and how you live.

But if you listen more deeply, open yourself to both grief and hope, this is less a warning and more a comfort or a promise. “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet.” What a blessing. What a promise to know that there will be those who will speak for God, who will represent that Presence in a tangible way. And even better, “I will raise up a prophet ... from among their own people.”

One of us--it could be you, him or her, or me. Maybe it is all of us in turn. It isn’t clear whether this raising up is for an office or an event. We tend to think of a prophet as a career choice. Do you want to be an engineer or a dancer? Well, no, I was hoping to become a prophet. Do you know a good college that has a prophetic track?

That sounds a bit silly, I know. But when we envision a prophet, what comes to mind is someone who signs up for the long haul, who joins the union, wears the name tag. But maybe the promise here in Deuteronomy is that when a word of God is needed, there will be someone who can speak it. When the community is struggling for direction or decision, God will put it in the heart of someone from among us to speak that divine word. Maybe it is a role we can all play in turn.

What it takes is a willingness to be used by God. It also takes a life of dedication to that Word. We study; we listen; we contemplate; we become familiar with the Word that God has spoken, so that when God speaks to us and through us, we can recognize it. We can speak it and know that we bring a Word in season, know that we speak with authority.

Or do we? Maybe we don’t know that we are filling that role. Maybe we just speak a word that seems right to us, never realizing that it is more than just our word; it is the Word. Maybe when God raises up a prophet, everyone knows who it is except the one raised up. And maybe we don’t even speak that Word, but simply - or profoundly - live it out in front of anyone who pays attention.

That’s what this text is about, too: paying attention. God says we are held accountable — for hearing and not doing, for doing and not hearing, and for hearing and doing. If we want our lives to count (and most of us do), there is no better way.

On the other side, we have a warning from Mark in our second text. What is the opposite of a prophet, at least as we are defining it here? In traditional language and imagery, we might consider the word demonic. This is an odd text, don’t you think? Oh, it is true that there are other stories of demonic possession, exorcisms, and principalities and powers that are evident in scripture. And we must decide what to do with all that. Some take a literal approach and lean into the spiritual warfare aspect of our faith. Others see it as something metaphorical, words used to describe human ailments of various kinds, both mental and physical.

But set aside that debate for a moment and look at the text. Jesus goes to the synagogue, as was his custom (Luke 4:16, NRSV). While there, his teaching was received with amazement, though we aren’t quite sure who “they” were. Was it the people gathered there? Was it the leaders of the synagogue? We don’t know, unfortunately. But then, suddenly, there was a man with an unclean spirit in the synagogue. Did he just wander in at the moment? Had he been there all the time? Did Jesus say something that caused the man, or the spirit within him, to rise up and react? The spirit, or the man, asks Jesus about his agenda, about his threat. Jesus’  presence seemed to be the antithesis to this spirit’s existence. The accusation flies out: “You are the Holy one.” And what is unholy cannot survive in the face of the Holy. This is the shame Isaiah feels in the temple of God; this is the pain Simon Peter experiences when he realizes who is in his boat, giving him fishing advice.

And Jesus says, “Be silent.” Thus, the messianic secret is born. Don’t tell who Jesus really is; it isn’t the time;  you aren’t the right announcer. “Be silent.” Or maybe Jesus was just trying to calm the storm in the synagogue that day. It is exactly what he says to the tempest in the sea that had scared the disciples. “Be silent.” Maybe it wasn’t a shout. Maybe it was a “calm down” sort of word. We need the audio version of the Bible so we can hear the tone of voice Jesus used here.

After saying, “Be silent,” Jesus said, “Come out of him. Let go of that host you are riding in.” Or set aside your fear and prejudice. Let go of that which won’t let you hear the truth. Pull off the blinders that society has put on you and has made enemies out of co-workers and destroyers out of those who build to a slightly different vision. We need voices of reason, not shouts of accusation. We need truth, not fearmongering.

However you name the spirit that was in that man on that day, it didn’t like hearing the truth. Or it didn’t like that others were hearing and responding to that truth. But it didn’t have a better argument, so it started pointing fingers, calling names, and attacking the one who came to bring light and hope to a people hungry for leadership. We aren’t called to be saviors or messiahs, but God will raise up prophets from among us--people who tell us the truth, if we are willing to listen. Better than that, people who can live the truth with their whole existence. Those are the ones we need today. Those are the ones we need to be today.

Though I don’t think I ever said it in words, I loved my father-in-law. And I will take his example to heart and speak with my life more than just my words. Let us rise up to life shaped by the Word, colored by the love of God and family and neighbor. Raise up your prophets, O Lord.