The Sanctuary Downtown / Relentless Love Peter Hiett

There is one book that's affected me more than any other, while at the same time I never felt an obligation to read it or told myself that I needed to change because of it. Of course I'm talking about The Lord of the Rings.

To be fair, I suppose that the Bible has affected me more; however, I haven't always read it in freedom.

In junior high, I read The Hobbit and then The Lord of the Rings. "In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit." In seventh grade, I could identify. Gandalf, 12 dwarves, and talk of treasure and a dragon. And then an encounter with "a Gollum" who had a ring of power: "'Quite safe, yes,” he whispered to himself. “It won't see us, will it, my precious? No.'” -- The most enjoyable books that I've ever read.

But imagine if in the fall of 1973, someone sold me those books and then said, "Now, before you read this, let me tell you what it means. There is this 'ring of power.' And the point is to get that ring and hang on to it at all costs. The ring is power and freedom, for it's how you get whatever you want. It's safety, for it makes you invisible. It's life, for life is the survival of the fittest — everyone knows that. It's the life and the good, for in the end only the strong survive, safe under the earth, hiding from the sun, while the weak are endlessly burned by its unforgiving gaze."

Well, once I started reading, I might have found the book to be a bit confusing.

Recently, a friend said, "Sometimes when you preach, I feel like I'm in a graduate level course and I've missed the prerequisites." I found that comment to be a bit strange because never before has the Gospel seemed so simple to me. It is "God is Salvation" or "God saves," which in Aramaic forms a name: "Yeshua" and in English, "Jesus." The comment seemed strange and yet, on another level, quite accurate, for preaching has become increasingly complex for me.

I preach expository sermons through books of the Bible. Non-churched friends have told me, "This is simple." And my church friends often say, "This is so complex."

It's almost as if before we started reading, someone whispered, "Let me tell you what it's all about.” Or better: “We'll read it for you. Just come to our club, and we'll read one verse at a time and then tell you what it means; it's common sense. Even better, tell us what you want (We're seeker sensitive.) We'll use knowledge taken from the book to cook up whatever soup you happen to desire."

2 Peter 3:3, "Scoffers will come in the last days with scoffing, following their own desires." I think my flesh desires the ring of power.

Oliver Wendell Holmes once said that he wouldn't give a fig for the simplicity that exists on this side of complexity. But he would give the world for the simplicity that exists on the other side of complexity. What lies between a simple lie and a world of complexity and then a simple Truth and Freedom? I would suggest some wrestling in the dark with the Word in a garden at the base of a Tree and the edge of the Promised Land.

2 Peter 3:15, "Count the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you concerning the wisdom given him, as he does in all his letters when he speaks in them of these matters. There are some things in them that are hard to understand (Peter agrees: complex. He once desired the ring of power.), which the unlearned and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures."

Scripture has gotten a lot of bad press from liberals who think it's untrue and perhaps worse press from conservatives who think it's a cookbook for whatever soup they happen to desire.

I find it to be objectively true, and, even better, subjectively true and one utterly amazing story, penned by at least 45 different writers over thousands of years. So, when I preach from Scripture, I’m not just sharing my own opinion. And yet, it's not just common sense, for at the time that each book was written, each was thought to b

Soren Kierkegaard told a tale about two robbers who broke into a jewelry store and simply switched all the price tags such that the fake was valued as the real and the real was assumed to be fake. He said it was the story of our age.

Years ago on the French Riviera, I walked past an extravagant yacht moored in the harbor. On the back deck sat two elderly couples in folding chairs at a card table, playing cards and laughing. Yacht: several million dollars. Pack of cards: ninety-nine cents. Laughing with friends: priceless and entirely free. Someone switched the price tags, or perhaps we never knew Valuable and worthless, Good and evil, in the first place.

You could spend all your days chasing a yacht and be miserable, or you could buy a pack of cards this afternoon and learn to laugh with your neighbor. One day the yacht will dissolve in fire, but something else will remain. One day our building will dissolve in fire, but something else will remain—perhaps even in the shape of this old building. The universe is a vessel. And so are you—part full, part empty.

"The heavens and earth that now exist are treasured up for fire," writes Peter. "The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise (the promise of his parousia, his effective presence, his coming) as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not willing that any be lost, but that all repent to make room." We must realize that what we think is full (like my arrogant self) may actually be empty, and what we think is empty (like unremembered acts of kindness or laughing with a friend) may actually be full…of Love, which is God, who is a Consuming Fire.

"Will there never be an end of all our ceaseless talk about the delay of the Parousia?" writes Karl Barth. "The End of which the New Testament speaks is no temporal event.... What delays it's coming is not the Parousia but our awakening (When you wake, you repent; your mind is changed.)"

"Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness," asks Peter, "waiting for and hastening the parousia of the Day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the elements will melt as they burn! But according to his promise, we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells (like a man at home in his house)."

"What sort of people ought we to be?" Righteous people . . . duh! Finally, a practical application!
So . . . What is righteousness?

In chapter one, Peter gave us a list, writing, "Choreograph the Faith with the virtue... with the knowledge... with the control of self... with the steadfastness... with the godliness... with the brotherly affection... with the Love." He refers to this as "Divine Nature (theios physis)."

It reminds me of Paul's list: "Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness, control of self." He calls this the "Fruit of the Spirit" as opposed to the "works of the flesh."

It reminds me of the list given to Moses on the mountain. Peter's list ends with Love; Paul's list begins with Love. All the commandments on Moses' list, according to Moses, Peter, Paul and Jesus, can be summed up with the word “Love.” The Commandments describe Love and what Love does because Love wants to do it. If you don't want to do it, it's called "The Law."

Louisiana just passed a law stating that these commandments must be posted on classroom walls, which makes sense in terms of teaching history but is profoundly strange considering that the originals were to be placed in a coffin (also translated "ark") in the Inner Sanctuary of the Temple and covered with the blood of sacrifice and upon which stands a lamb, as if he had just been slain.
The Law was to be encased in a story of Grace, which we now call the Gospel. Otherwise, one look at The Commandments could kill you . . . or reveal that you are already dead.

It's strange how we clamor to post the 10 Commandments on courtr

On the communion table sits a glass (a mason jar) of water, half empty . . . or maybe it's half full. Are you the type that sees "half empty" or "half full"?

This week's message is the second half of last week's message and the same text, 2 Peter 3:1-13. In verse 8, Peter writes, "But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise...."

What promise? We know that Jesus is the Promise and the Promised Seed, and Peter just mentioned "the promise of his parousia (effective presence)."

He continues in verse 9, "The Lord is patient toward you, not willing that any should be lost." In verse 11, he writes, "Since all things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the elements (your body is made of elements) will melt as they burn! But according to his promise we are waiting for a new heaven and a new earth in which Righteousness dwells."

"Righteousness" means "right-ness." Can you imagine? Perhaps, in moments.

Sitting on my father's lap as a child, held tight to his chest (his "bosom"), the judgments of all others, including myself, would dissolve in the presence of my father and his judgment: "This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased." In that moment, everything seemed to be right. Then, I tried to grow up, that is, justify myself (make myself right).

In moments of communion with my bride, I have suddenly realized, "I'm more than just myself; I've lost myself and found myself happy. Everything is right." But if I try to capture those moments, I lose those moments.

Once in 1991, driving a van full of sweaty high school kids down a dirt road in Mexico, listening to music and singing along, I suddenly realized, "Everything is right." These moments often happen to the sound of music, as if each one is suddenly caught up in something bigger than anyone, and everyone finds themselves in one great dance. It's like heaven shows up all around me, or I become a world in which righteousness dwells.

Once, I was literally held to the floor by the Spirit of God . . . or exalted to heaven, I'm not sure. But I saw that the Lord was everywhere and everywhen loving me. I have never felt so alive, and yet I thought to myself, "I'm going to die." This bag of dust cannot bear such a weight of glory. I've wanted to repeat the experience but can't seem to make it happen. So, "I wait for a new heaven and a new earth in which righteousness dwells."

My Body (and my psychikos body, my soulish body) exists in the sixth day, with the seventh day (when "it is finished" and "everything is good") hidden in the holy place in the temple of my heart. "In that day," cries the angel in Revelation 10:6, "Time (chronos) will be no more." "In those days," prophesies Amos, "The plowman shall overtake the reaper." That means that the moment of death becomes the moment of resurrection; the moment of emptying becomes the moment of filling.

That day is what God has done, and it exposes what we have done apart from God -- that is, nothing. This old heaven and earth must be an empty form of an eternal heaven and earth, and this old self must be an empty form of a forever new and eternal self. It seems to "me" that Scripture is saying that there is only "I am" and "I am not." So, what is "Peter Hiett"?

Apart from "child of God," perhaps the best answer is “a vessel” -- kind of like the one sitting on the communion table. You can think of the emptiness in the jar as the evil and the water in the jar as the Good, as righteousness. Paul claims that Jesus is "our Righteousness."

Is that (are you) half empty or half full?

There are those who only see "the empty," and you can grow a really big church by only seeing the empty. These folks love to tell you what