Sermon for Trinity Sunday, 5/27/18: Shake It Up!

Sermon for Trinity Sunday, 5/26/18              John 3: 1-17, Isaiah 6: 1-9                     Shake It Up!                                
What is Nicodemus’ motive?
    Some say he comes with an agenda from his tribe (Pharisees): find out about this Jesus. Who is he? Where does his power come from? What does he want? Catch him in a mistake if you can!
    Others say he comes for himself, drawn to Jesus by his charisma or some other force. He is curious, wants to understand, but simply can’t. But his motives are innocent.
    What do you think? Is Nic a skeptic, out to discredit Jesus? OR Is Nic a seeker who wants to know more?          [VOTE]
    I’ve been on both sides during my years as a preacher. But today I’m thinking Nicodemus is simply curious. There’s something about this Jesus—not only his power to perform miracles (‘signs,’ John calls them), but his charisma, and the way people flock to him.
    Whatever Nicodemus’ motives, he doesn’t ‘get’ Jesus. The spirit stuff is too confusing for his logical brain—“How can anyone be born after having grown old?”
    Eventually the dialogue becomes a monologue, Jesus alone. From the original Greek you can tell that Jesus is, toward the end, speaking not to one person but to several. By this time Nicodemus has either walked away or faded into the crowd. …… Pity. He came so close.
    Nicodemus isn’t alone in finding this ‘Spirit talk’ confusing. So do I. Jesus says to him, “Are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?” and I hear, “Are you a Lutheran pastor and yet you do not understand these things?” Yep, that’s me. You nailed it, Jesus.
    The early church had a heck of a time with the Spirit as well. One highly debated part of our Nicene Creed in its formative stage centered on where the Spirit came from, the father or the son or both: “We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son…..  “(‘and the Son’ is called the Filioque clause, “Filioque” meaning in Latin, “from the Son.”) That little phrase caused much argument: first at the Church Council of Nicaea in 325, then again at a second council in Constantinople in 381, and further at the Council of Chalcedon in 451. I’m not entirely sure that we can be sure those guys landed on the right answer.
    But who could blame them for trying? It’s only human to want important ideas to be nailed down. We want orderly lives. My kind of ‘orderly’ is a list, which I make daily, gleefully marking off what I’ve accomplished. And though I’m not so good at keeping my office orderly (no comments, please!), I’m hugely impressed by other people’s orderly, tidy rooms. 
    So much so that while in seminary in Chicago, I loved visiting the Art Institute’s basement floor, where the Thorne Miniature Rooms are housed: 68 elegantly appointed rooms (European interiors from 13th C. through 1930s), all created on a scale of one inch to one foot. Each display is about the size of a small microwave.     There are lovely drawing rooms, elegantly appointed bedrooms and dining rooms, foyers with glittering chandeliers.
    I can see myself lounging on a luxurious sofa or climbing a majestic winding staircase. But I aways want to peek at more—the unknown is as much fun as the known. What’s at the top of those tiny stairs? What’s behind the drawing room doors? Where does that narrowing hallway lead?
    For all in me that yearns for order, I often have this nagging sense that there must be more. That’s the feeling that cracks the door of my life just a little. That’s the moment when the Spirit can blow in, team up with my spirit, and take me a few steps further.
    But Nicodemus could not let that happen. When I tell his story, I want so much for him to let the mystery and wonder of God’s Spirit capture him. But he can’t bring himself to peek beyond the top of the stairs or open the drawing room door.
    Another character who gets shaken up this morning is Isaiah. Isaiah was already a man of God, but in today’s story he gets the shock of his life. In the temple God makes a mind-bending appearance: seated on a gigantic throne, his robe covering the entire room, and surrounded by angels.
    Suddenly Isaiah’s ordered world melts away and he feels small and weak and sinful. An angel touches his lips with a live coal from the altar, declaring his sin and guilt GONE. (Wonder what would happen if WE added add a live coal to our Confessional moment? It worked for Isaiah.) God calls Isaiah and he answers, ‘Here am I; send me!’
    The idea of being shaken up is all over these two stories, and it set me thinking about an old Beatles tune I could not get out of my mind this week. It’s from the 60s, but I bet you all know it.
    Well, shake it up, baby now
    Twist and shout
    Come on, come on, come on, baby now.
    Come on and work it on out.

    You know you twist, little girl
    You know you twist so fine
    Come on and twist a little closer now
    And let me know that you're mine.
(Not exactly the kind of shaking up that’s happening to Isaiah and Nicodemus, but you get the ‘loose’ connection.)
     And by the way, what you just heard is as loose as I get. It’s nearly impossible for this Southern Baptist-born girl to ‘shake it up.’
    But God CAN do that for us. God can shake us up, even in church (and sometimes God doesn’t ask for permission). God can open the door of your well-organized life just a bit, wide enough to send the Spirit flowing through.
    Do you want that? Better think about it before you answer….
    Former Christian Century publisher John Buchanan wrote of a Sunday service at which he baptized a two-year old child. When Buchanan said the words, “You are a child of God, sealed by the Holy Spirit in your baptism, and you belong to Jesus Christ forever,” the child responded loudly, “Uh-oh.” Buchanan called that a “stunning theological affirmation.”
    Face to face with the imposing presence of God, any one of us might mutter that same ‘uh-oh.’ Any one of us could be an Isaiah, when God’s overwhelming holiness up against our measly attempts at being good staggers us. Or any one of us could be a Nicodemus, sure of what we believe about God but feeling restless to dig deeper.
    Those times shake up your life. They mess with your mind and heart. Those are openings for the wind of the Spirit to blow you into places you’d never on your own be bold enough to go.
    I don’t know what place the Spirit might blow you. But isn’t it exciting, exhilarating, energizing to imagine? Maybe a step forward into teaching children’s Sunday School this summer, the courage to offer a meal for someone with a new baby, the boldness to sign up for the leadership course beginning in mid-June, Leading in Place. However the Spirit pushes you, you can be sure of God’s motivation. Jesus said it; it’s always love, pure love.
    So don’t be as timid as I’ve been so often in my life, unwilling to get up and dance. Open yourself to the Spirit. Live dangerously, covered by God’s grace, ready to be shaken up at any moment. You’ll know that shake-up when it comes. Even a two-year old can recognize it:  “Uh-oh!”
    May it be so for you. Amen.