What if We're Wrong

Mark 9:38-50

 “What if We’re Wrong?”

27 September 2015 St. Andrew’s Chapel Singapore

Confession time: street preachers cause me all kinds of frustration and unease. Living in downtown San Diego, I would see and hear my fair share of people telling everyone that the end was nigh and we were all going to hell. My first thought is usually, “C’mon man, my job is hard enough already without you yelling hellfire and damnation to everyone you see.” My problem is the assumption that none of us just going to the grocery store, out for a run, heading to a ball game, or taking kids to the park have faith really gets my blood boiling. It’s really bad during Comic Con because the street preachers are playing off a stereotype and approaching it in the absolute worst way.

  Now, have I ever stopped and talked to these preachers and asked them their reasons for such an approach? Nope. Have I ever told them how I feel? Nope. I did participate in a counter protest of Westboro Baptist while I was in seminary, but they never showed up so that doesn’t really count. Did I ever muster up the courage to take the advice and example of my preaching professor and counter their preaching with my own street preaching emphasizing grace and love over judgment and despair? Not a chance. Have I mumbled and grumbled to God about how I don’t like what they are doing? Of course.

Which places me squarely in the line of the disciples in this passage, and that’s probably not a good thing. I think that if I asked Christ his answer would be, “he’s not against us, so he’s for us.” And I really don’t want to hear that I’m on the same side as that guy, especially because his theology isn’t my theology. I’m not really a huge theology snob, but there are a few theological interpretations that will really get me fired up.

As I read and pondered this passage over the week, while on one hand it was convicting my own behavior towards certain lines of thought and interpretation. This passage also made me think about what kind of theological stumbling block merits a millstone around my neck?

Mark writes that Jesus used the Greek word micron in this passage. We tend to interpret this as we shouldn’t cause children to stumble, but we can also translate micron as “of least importance, insignificant, or humble.” If we go that route, it still includes our children, but it also widens those we should prevent causing a stumbling block to any who are marginalized or new to the faith.

Theology matters and is important, but how we express and explain theology is also of vital importance. And that importance may be difficult to reconcile with the fact that no one may be fully equipped to judge another’s theology. By definition, theology is an inherently impossible task. How can a finite being fully understand the infinite God? Like the disciples, my interpretation may be wrong and I may be expecting everyone to follow the same theological interpretation I have. The disciples are mad that this exorcist isn’t following them. They assume he has gone rogue because he isn’t in their group.

Jesus quickly tells them, he isn’t against us so he’s for us. Notice that word choice. It casts a wide net for following Christ. It pitches a big tent in which we can hold a large variety of theological viewpoints and teachings and all get along. As long as you aren’t working against Christ, you are working for him. Just sit with that for a minute. If our theology isn’t working against the work of Christ in the world, we’re with Jesus. If we use Jesus’ name and power for good, we’re probably doing it right and are not against him.

Now, some of you are better Biblical scholars than myself and might want to bring up Matthew 12:30. In that verse Jesus says, “whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.” He says if you are not with Jesus, you are against him. Loyalty to Jesus is important, not loyalty to our interpretation of Jesus. We don’t control God and his work. The Gospel is the Gospel and will always be the Gospel despite any of our attempts to put it into a certain box or theological framework. We must remain faithful to the Gospel because our theology may just miss the mark and not be the correct interpretation. Where we come from and how we have grown in Christ color how we interpret his work in the world. Again, theology is important, but Mark is telling us we must handle the act of teaching theology with care.

Those that are young, either in age or faith, are malleable and impressionable. When we are new to an experience, we tend to drink it in and experience as much as fast as possible. We pay more attention to things. Just look at the young people in our midst. Infants are wide eyed, observing how things are and what things mean. Toddlers are experimenting with walking and talking and figuring out how to make it in the world. Elementary aged children are excited to learn something new, even more so when they feel they’ve mastered something. Remember the first time you rode a bike without training wheels or an adult holding the bike running along beside. Oh the sweet feel of freedom blowing through your hair, the sheer joy at pedaling on your own, leaving mom or dad in the dust. It didn’t matter if you crashed after 100 yards, you were free!

And isn’t that the same sweet taste of freedom we savor when we find the Gospel. When we finally get it and fully surrender. That ironic freedom in surrender is at the heart of the Gospel. So shouldn’t all of our teaching, all of our interactions with others be such that the other walks away not in fear of or disgusted with a Gospel encounter, but excited and reenergized by the prospect of such freedom. But, even if they aren’t wholly convinced shouldn’t they at least walk away curious as to how we can live with such freedom and long for a moment like that first bike ride?

What might this church look like? It would be one that isn’t worried about how many people show up, but how much like Christ the ones that do show up become. We’d focus less on growing numbers and more on growing disciples. When we say all are welcome we’d mean it. It wouldn’t matter how holy someone is or isn’t, nor how much they make or don’t, nor how they look, nor what gifts they posses. A former pastor I worked under told me during my first week, “I’ve got Bible thumpin’ conservatives sharing communion with tree hugging, gay loving liberals, so we’re doing something right.” We’d focus on hospitality and relationships because we’re all broken yet redeemed and seek for all to be redeemed, so we treat them as such.

We’d find a place for everyone’s gifts and talents. We wouldn’t brag about the work we do as the hands and feet of Christ, but rather we’d be the type that would blow off lunch with power brokers when they only want us there to bolster their image to spend it with the least of these because that is where we are called. When we see someone living out the Gospel, casting out demons in Christ’s name, we’d applaud her even if her theology isn’t ours.

This chaplain would finally quit his silent judgment of street preachers. We’d fight for a few underdogs. When the world kicks in our teeth, we’ll give the best we’ve got anyways. We’d be humble enough to listen to Christ speaking through others even if what he is saying isn’t what we want to hear. We’d be humble enough to know that our human attempts at theology, in other words, our attempts to define God might just be wrong. We’d acknowledge that misinterpretation, adjust, and move on.

In a nutshell: We’d love God, love people, and reach the world for Christ.

Is this list all inclusive? Of course not. Could it be wrong? Yes, because I’m sure there are flaws in my theology. But it’s my prayer that all of us are striving towards the goal of living faithfully into the freedom of the Gospel where our love of Christ overflows into love for everyone we encounter.

So, let us strive to make our theology less right and more solid, more in line with Jesus’ idea that those who aren’t against us are with us. What a different perception of the church we would have if we could break the stereotype of Christianity as being about rules and who isn’t part of the club, but rather about a place where we recognize that Christ works in mysterious ways, through people I may never expect to do the works of Christ. For then we’d be a salty church bringing flavor and peace not only to ourselves but to the entire world.