Sermon, Psalm 126

This is the last of three sermons I prepared and delivered in the summer of 2024.

It was a pleasure to preach on the Psalms, and I liked the way the three that I chose fit together loosely, almost like there was a plan I was not aware of.

The video is here. It starts with a short prayer, then a longer prayer, then a reading of the scripture, If you enjoy hearing me talk and be awkward in front of other people, tune in for all of it. The scripture reading starts at minute 31, the sermon a couple of minutes after that.

Psalm 126: God’s Future

August 11^th, 2024 Ttangeut Church, Holy Joy English Service

1 When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

we were like those who dream.

2 Then our mouth was filled with laughter

and our tongue with shouts of joy;

then it was said among the nations,

“The Lord has done great things for them.”

3 The Lord has done great things for us,

and we rejoiced.

4 Restore our fortunes, O Lord,

like the watercourses in the Negeb.

5 May those who sow in tears

reap with shouts of joy.

6 Those who go out weeping,

bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

carrying their sheaves.

Introduction

Welcome to my last sermon of the summer. Back when Frank and I decided to do a series on Psalms, number 126 was not on my radar. Like Psalm 82, it appeared in my daily devotionals, and caught my attention, but not quite the same way: I didn’t see a puzzle that I wanted to help us solve together. Instead, I saw a beautiful little gem of a poem that just needed to be appreciated. Not just the fantastic imagery, but the deeper beauty of Truth. Psalm 126 is a reflection of the nature of God’s universe, reminding us of the path we are on.

Okay, it does have a little puzzle, and a bit of weird cultural stuff.

As an added bonus, by the time I had all three of my psalm choices next to each other, I noticed that they also made a clever pattern of past, present and future. I also had some personal connections with this psalm, which I will share with you later.

Truth

Let’s start with the Truth. On my first reading of Psalm 126, I noticed immediately that verse 1 talks about how The LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, or Israel. But then halfway through, in verse 4, the psalmist is asking The LORD to restore their fortunes again. The first half has laughter, the second half has tears. Tears, but also that request, to bring back joy. There is a deep truth in Psalm 126. It is so important to see it, and to recognize it: the Truth is that we will not always be happy. The Way to the Kingdom of Heaven has sadness, weeping, anger and loss, as well as rejoicing and laughter, peace and comfort. Just look at the story of the Exodus:

When God’s people were slaves in Egypt, God heard their cries and led them out! They messed up bad in the desert, but God did not destroy them! God led them to the promised land! They were afraid to go in and take it, and they suffered for that, but God delivered them into Canaan! We saw in Psalm 78 that God never gave up on Israel, no matter how many times they turned away, and we see that in our past as well!

Why does suffering always come? Whenever we become comfortable, humans set up little gods, as we saw in Psalm 82. It is part of our sinful nature. Those little gods stumble around in the dark, shaking the foundations of the world. That’s when we realize that we need The Real God, The LORD. That’s when we call on The LORD, just like the psalmist, “Restore our fortunes, Oh LORD! Arise and take your place! We will not forget the lessons of our ancestors!”

Psalm 126 is so beautiful because it is both a cry for the gospel, and an affirmation that the gospel is real. The first half says that God made it all good, and the second half asks God to come and make it all good again. “The LORD restored our fortunes! Restore our fortunes again, O LORD!”

I want to be clear: this cycle of fortunes lost and restored is not creation being stuck in one place! Every restoration in the Old Testament pointed toward Jesus, and Jesus told us that the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand! Our little gods want us to look down and believe that the world is going to hell. They don’t want us to see that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, that The LORD will restore our fortunes and more!

That is the beautiful truth of Psalm 126. The Psalmist can call on God, because God is near. God hears. God cares. God will respond.

And of course, there will be an ultimate bringing in of sheaves, when there are no more tears of sadness, but only tears of joy. When there is laughter and shouts of joy, as well as content silence, but no more pain.

The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Both near and far. Sometimes right in our midst.

Sentiment

I will be honest with you. The main reason that I chose Psalm 126 was the last line, about bringing in sheaves with shouts of joy. My mind immediately went back to my childhood, singing, “We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves!” It took me back to First Christian Church of Leavenworth, KS, when I was a child. The memories are mostly happy, but tinged with sadness. I grew up with so many church grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters. People who taught me about the love and grace of Jesus by loving me and accepting me. Many of them are still there, but many are gone. I have missed funerals, weddings, and children growing up. When I visit my home church, it is mostly happy, but sad, because it is no longer my home.

The song we sang earlier, “Bringing in the Sheaves,” was comforting for me then, and it still is:

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,

Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;

When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

I used to think that my sadness came from living so far from home, in a foreign country. I considered my sadness to be mostly the result of my choices. Then I moved back to America in 2007, and lived there with my family for four years. The sadness followed me there. I found that even if you stay in the same town your whole life, you are still constantly moving: into the future, leaving people and things behind. “Bringing in the Sheaves” reminds us that sadness will come, but then the chorus reminds us of the truth:

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves;

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Rejoicing, I understood. Sheaves, not so much.

Culture

So here are the puzzling parts of Psalm 126: First, vocabulary. “Sheaves” was kind of a strange word that did not connect with me when I was young, even after learning what they were: bundles of grain, usually wheat, sometimes corn or barley. A sheaf is a normal farming tool. Of course bringing them in would be a happy time, because that meant that you had food. But why would sowing seeds be a sad thing?

One reason could be that when a farmer is sowing their fields, they are literally throwing away grain. Grain is food. When we decide to plant a seed, that is grain that we cannot eat. Or feed to our family. It is an immediate loss. The very action of sowing looks a lot like throwing something away. Trusting it to the earth, that the earth will return more than it has taken. When we love, when we give, it feels like the same kind of risk: throwing away something that may never come back.

Now, if we read this poem with Old Testament eyes, we imagine these rich, beautiful, precious seeds. Scattered. Thrown out in all directions. Maybe we think of Babylon, or Syria, scattering the people and resources of Israel. Or maybe we think of Babel, the people scattered to the ends of the Earth. It is a poem, after all, and images can mean many things.

Personal Connection

In the past few weeks I have been blessed by an even more personal connection to this psalm. Frankly, it is the kind of blessing that I would rather avoid. This coming Wednesday my family is moving to a new home. Sometimes moving is an exciting, fresh start, but it’s always a lot of work. We have had our share of those moves, but this time is different. We are moving in with my wife’s parents because we can’t afford to stay where we live now. To an American, such as myself, moving in with parents feels like failure. Defeat. As our moving date has gotten closer, I have been praying to God, “Restore our fortunes, O LORD! Do great things for us! Now please!” I have been unwilling to accept this change. Psalm 126 came along at the right time to remind me that God has restored the fortune of my family before, so many times, in so many ways. But I’ve had trouble remembering.

As our family has decided which things to keep and which to give or throw away, my wife has led the way to rejoicing. She has found people who need so many of our things, and we have made people happy by giving our stuff away. Sometimes reaping with joy is more about your attitude in giving than actually receiving something. We must choose to ignore the little god, who tells you that the more stuff you have, the better you are.

Thank you to my wife, for leading by example, and teaching me an important lesson about Psalm 126. I had been studying it for weeks, but I needed her story to remind me that God’s reality is THE reality!

Application

The stories we tell ourselves matter. We come here to share stories like Psalm 126 because when God’s stories are on our mind, we see the world, and other people, the way that God sees them: with love and compassion. That includes compassion for ourselves! I am not quite ready to rejoice at this family move, but I am closer. Psalm 126 reminds me that the weeping is natural, but that rejoicing will come. So I take hope. And I am confident that the story of the Sack Family moving in with their grandparents will become a story of God’s goodness and love for all of us. We will be bringing in the sheaves before we know it.

Conclusion

Once again we have a beautiful song poem from thousands of years ago that still sheds light on our path today, just as it has for all those years. The Psalmist reminds us that here on earth we will not always be happy, because that is not how God created the universe. Fortunes will always be lost and restored.

We can take comfort in times of misfortune, knowing that God has given and that God will continue to give. But more importantly, in times of fortune, we know that it will not last forever. The world tells us that our current fortune is a reflection of who we are: the rich deserve to be rich, and the poor deserve to be poor. But Jesus tells us, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

The little gods, the ones we created, are wrong. We know that our value is not based on our possessions or power. Our value comes from God, from being created in the image of God. So we tell each other and ourselves the story of how God will turn weeping to laughter.

Rather than seeing ourselves as a reflection of our circumstances, we see ourselves as images of God. And like God, we can be willing to sow, to give up part of ourselves. To die to ourselves, because we know that water will come to the desert again. Life will bloom and flourish and explode into a space that seems to be dead.

Let us pray: Lord, give us the wisdom to truly hear your stories. Restore our fortunes, as you always have, as you always will. Amen.

Bringing in the Sheaves

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,

Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;

Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Refrain:

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves;

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,

Fearing neither clouds nor winter’s chilling breeze;

By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,

Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;

When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome,

We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Sermon, Psalm 78

Here is my latest project, the first of three sermons I will be delivering this summer.

The sermon itself is about 30 minutes long, and starts only a minute or so into the video. In the church service, I played my euphonium with the praise team, and there were prayers and other stuff. I enjoy playing my horn during church, but I think it's just a bit too much to do it on Sundays when I am preaching. It wasn't too stressful, but it did not leave time for me to talk to people before the service.

Here is my manuscript. There's a little adlibbing in the recording, but the main ideas stick pretty closely to the script.

The Path Behind Us: Psalm 78

July 14th, 2024

Ttangkkeut Church Holy Joy English Service

Introduction

When Frank and I decided to do a series on Psalms, I already had this one in mind: Psalm 78. The first two verses were memory verses at my previous church, and I took delight in memorizing them:

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;

incline your ears to the words of my mouth!

I will open my mouth in a parable;

I will utter dark sayings from of old…

I love words in general. Nothing makes me quite as happy as expressing an idea as perfectly as possible, introducing my thoughts into your mind using nothing more than these clumsy sounds that come out of my mouth, or a combination of letters on a page.

I also love it when someone else does the same thing. I love reading, and can easily be taken to far places and times by words on the page. And these words from our scripture today, words about words, about ”dark sayings from of old,” and inclining your ears… I found them almost magical. An invitation to visit a world very different from our own.

So I have had Psalm 78 in mind for a long time. I even set out to memorize the whole thing. I got a little more than halfway through before giving it up in favor of just being able to read it on my phone whenever I want to. This is an enormous privilege, which all of us share. However, for most of history, people have not had easy, immediate access to the words of the Bible. Which leads us to the purpose of Psalm 78.

On the Path

The first commentary I looked at told me what I already knew: this is a history Psalm. (The second commentary basically said, “No, it isn’t!” but I’m trying to keep this sermon under 20 minutes. Maybe next time.) In a time when most people were not literate, stories and songs were the best way to share history and identity. For people to know who they were. You couldn’t take home a history book, much less look up things on the internet. What you could do was sing along with everyone, the way we sing together here. In fact, our singing today also helps us to know who we are:

“In His Time,” a reminder of God’s patience.

“Here is Love,” a reminder of God’s love.

“Here I Am, Lord,” a reminder that we are called to action, and

“I Love to Tell the Story,” a reminder that stories like Psalm 78 are at the heart of who we are: God’s People.

Sometimes all we need is a small reminder, a sign, but in the long run, we need to hear stories about how other people connect with God.

To be clear, if you are sitting here in church today, or watching on YouTube, or reading my words, there is a path that brought you here. That path is a testament to the faith of God, just as Psalm 78 is. In fact, to some people, your path will mean more than this path from 3000 years ago. For someone who does not already trust the Bible, your path will be a believable testimony, because you are standing right there, talking about what you have experienced. And of course, part of your experience will be with the Bible itself, and learning to trust it. Learning to see that you and I are on the same path that Israel was on so many, many years ago.

The Meaning of Parable

So Psalm 78 is a “History” Psalm, a partial map of how God literally traveled with Israel. It is important to remember that history is never just a list of facts or events. The point of history, especially in pre-modern times, was to form identity. To send a message. Maybe more than one. Therefore we know that the Psalmist has chosen the events of this song carefully. 

I want to draw your attention to the words “parable” and “dark sayings.” There is some disagreement as to what exactly these words mean, but most scholars agree that it has something to do with wisdom, and parables often hide wisdom in stories. The wisdom of Psalm 78 is not spelled out for us, but we can be sure that something is there. We are forced to work to find meaning in this story. 

Or maybe one of us works for it, then shares his ideas with everyone. Maybe standing in front of a group of people on a Sunday afternoon. In other words, if you read Psalm 78 as I asked you to do, and saw little more than a short version of Exodus and a hint of Joshua and Samuel, you are not alone. But in boiling all this history down to a handful of scenes, the Psalmist calls our attention to some important lessons.

God’s Mercy at Work

When I say a handful of scenes, I mean about 15, not including the introduction. I divided Psalm 78 into scenes so that almost every scene has just one action. And there are really only two actors in this drama: God, and God’s People, Israel. King David and Egypt are mentioned, but Egypt is just a memory, and David is more of a promise at the end. 

So 15 scenes. As I summarized each scene, it struck me that each could be put into one of three categories, with only slight variation in detail.

1. The People Rebel against God. They disobey God (9-11), they test God by doubting out loud that God will give them what they need (17-20), they do not seek God (32-37), they grieve and provoke God (40-41), and they turn away from God, worshiping idols (56-58). Five scenes in total.

2. God gets angry. First, he is full of wrath and a fire is kindled, but God does not act on this anger. (21-22) The second time, he kills “the strongest of them.” His anger goes out, but not to all of the people. The third time is a memory of the plagues that God delivered on Egypt, which the people had forgotten. I did not count the forgetting as one of their rebellions, but I could have. The last anger of God in Psalm 78 is in response to their idols, when God abandoned his dwelling place at Shiloh and his people. This is the messy time before Saul becomes King. (59-64) Altogether God’s anger is expressed in four scenes.

3. God shows mercy and gives grace in seven scenes. God establishes the nation of Israel (5-7). God leads the people out of Egypt, parts the Red Sea, manifests as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, and gives them water in the desert (12-16). God gave them food abundantly (23-29). God atoned for them, and restrained his anger (38+39). God redeemed Israel from Egypt (42-51). God led the people to the Promised Land (52-55). God kicked out the invaders (65-66) and chose David to shepherd God’s flock (70-72).

Your count for God’s Grace may be different from mine, and that’s fine. Remember, I have a message as well. But it is clear to me that the psalmist is drawing our attention to the grace and mercy of God above all else. In this Psalm, the people never do right by God. They certainly do not earn God’s Grace and Mercy. The only thing that they do right is following God out of Egypt, but the emphasis in Psalm 78 is on God leading them out of Egypt.

The Affect on God

I believe that the Psalmist included God’s anger here in part to show the depth and breadth of God’s Grace. We all understand that it is much harder to be kind to someone you are angry at. The psalmist is showing that Israel was really getting on God’s nerves, which makes God’s patience all the more amazing. But the most moving part for me was verse 40.

How often they rebelled against him in the wilderness and grieved him in the desert!

They grieved God, as we so often do. Yes, it’s time to put ourselves where we belong in this story: grieving God in the wilderness.

God is Always Faithful

In my youth, I found the story of Israel’s behavior during and after the Exodus to be puzzling: How could they see God’s hand at work and still doubt? Let’s read together (verses 12-16):

In the sight of their fathers he performed wonders

    in the land of Egypt, in the fields of Zoan.

He divided the sea and let them pass through it,

    and made the waters stand like a heap.

In the daytime he led them with a cloud,

    and all the night with a fiery light.

He split rocks in the wilderness

    and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep.

He made streams come out of the rock

    and caused waters to flow down like rivers.

Walking across the bottom of the Red Sea! Water in the desert, enough for thousands of people and their animals to drink! Remember, they came out of Egypt, where water was the center of life! The Egyptians worshiped the Nile and structured their lives around its seasons. But now Israel is following a God who simply pushes the sea out of the way, and pulls life from rocks!

On top of that, God literally led them as a column of smoke by day and fire by night! Think about that: for most of the Bible, God is invisible. But for weeks God was directly in front of these people, leading them out of captivity by completely humiliating the most powerful nation of their time! But what is their response? (verses 17-20)

Yet they sinned still more against him,

    rebelling against the Most High in the desert.

They tested God in their heart

    by demanding the food they craved.

They spoke against God, saying,

    “Can God spread a table in the wilderness?

He struck the rock so that water gushed out

    and streams overflowed.

Can he also give bread

    or provide meat for his people?”

As a child, I did not understand this cynical attitude. Children easily believe that their parents can do anything, because their parents have already done everything for them. But as we get older, we see that our parents can’t do everything. We may even doubt that they can actually do anything.

We do this with God. Instead of focusing on what God has done for us, we list all the things that God has not done for us: a bigger apartment, a nicer car, a better job, children that behave perfectly. We forget that God has given us a place to live, the means to move around, work that sustains us, and a family to love.

I have not just seen this over and over, I have lived it. I have felt God’s love, grace and peace in my life, and later doubted. I have seen wonders in the desert, yet asked, “Can God make a way for me?” When there was sand in my shoes, and I had nothing to drink but water from a rock, and nothing to eat but the bread of heaven, I dared to look around and say, “If there really is a God, can’t he do better than this?”

And what is God’s response? (verses 38-39) Please read with me:

Yet he, being compassionate,

    atoned for their iniquity

    and did not destroy them;

he restrained his anger often

    and did not stir up all his wrath.

He remembered that they were but flesh,

    a wind that passes and comes not again.

Conclusion

Psalm 78 is an amazing poem, a window with a broad view of the story of God and humans. It reminds us that most stories involving God are anything but straightforward. Walter Brueggeman writes that, “In recital of memory there is hope for the future.” Psalm 78 reminds us of that hope. 

Though we can never fully appreciate the artistry and beauty of this song, we can appreciate, and take heart in, the themes: Whatever our failings, God is faithful. However often we turn away, God turns towards us. Even when we forget the works that God has done in our lives, God has not forgotten us. God remembers that we are but flesh, a wind that passes and comes not again.

 Remember your past. Remember the past of God’s people. Take hope. Amen.

So Many Firsts...

 I turned 54 years old this year, and I am still doing and experiencing new things. This should not be surprising, as my parents have led the way in doing new things in the past 20 years, including becoming involved in prison ministry, and many other things that are not my stories to tell.

But this year it has felt like the changes are dogpiling me, and it's going to get even more intense. I can't even get into all of it, but here are a few:

1. New learning management system (LMS). I've been on Google Classroom since Covid hit, with a little experience using Canvas many years before that. I was really leaning into GClass, but my university decided to drop it. So this semester I've been reacquainting myself with Canvas. It's certainly not a major change, but it does mean reconstructing a lot of tools that I had built for GClass.

2. For the past three weeks I have been experimenting with "flipping" my classroom. This will not require an extra-large spatula, or trampolines, and have not been using my middle fingers any more than usual. Instead, I am recording lectures that explain what I want students to do. They watch it as part of their homework, then do some writing to prepare for class. When they come to class, we can almost immediately start conversation exercises. My previous student talking time over two 50-minute periods per week was about 45%. This way I can push it up to around 90%. It's huge, but the prep on the video lecture is a bit rough. This is a fairly big change in mindset for me, and since I'm doing it mid-semester it's a big change for my students. Some of them hopped right on board this train, but some have dug in their heels. I may very well pay a penalty in poor student evaluations at the end of the semester for this move. Stress.

3. Last year I submitted a proposal for a new course which did not get approved. I am revamping it, and trying to make a course that will be acceptable. It's exciting, but it also falls into that "planning ahead" category which vexes me so easily. On it's own, not a big deal. Throw in a weird mental block on my part, and it is a struggle for me to not just give up on the idea and shred it to make confetti to throw at my pity party.

4. I did not max out my overtime this semester, but I'm one class short of doing so. I'm teaching nine classes with a total of about 190 students. For me that is a lot of people to deal with. Not a deal breaker on its own, but with everything else in my life this year, it's a handful of grit in the oil, just keeping track of all of those students and their assignments and their attendance and their excuses for not attending. At heart, teaching is an act of will, and even with cooperative partners, the more people you are teaching, the more willpower is required. And not all of my students are cooperating.

5. I have Mondays off from Kyungsung Universities. In the past, I've used my day off to catch up, plan, sometimes just chill out. But this year I am filling in as English teacher at the Waldorf school from which Maxine graduated and where Quinten is still attending. I teach four classes, 7th through 12th grades. The classes are not huge: the 9th and 10th grades together are my largest class at 15 students. Eleventh and 12th grades have a total of 10 students. Eighth grade has (I think) 10 and 7th grade has eight. So about 42 more students. They are fairly high energy, low ability, but also low fear and better able to focus than many of my university students, for Waldorf reasons.

6. I teach a small group of Waldorf school parents one evening a week, and attend band rehearsal on another. These insure that I am not getting enough sleep early in the week, so that I get to dose up on caffeine via my go-to beverage, the iced Americano. Which feels like it could be my nickname by the end of this year. We spend an hour working on their English, then they spend an hour working on my Korean, and it has made a huge difference for me! My Korean language skills have improved a lot in the past couple of years. 

No. That's not quite correct. I have improved my Korean a lot over the last couple of years. Which leads me to a new experience stemming from points five and six above:

Today was Teachers' Day in Korea, which is kind of a big deal. It's a government holiday, so I stayed home most of the day to get some work done. I could not attend the festivities at the Waldorf School to celebrate yesterday, but there was a local library fundraiser this evening at which I received a few cards. This year I received four cards, one each from a parent of one of the classes I teach. One was a beautiful, water-colored piece of cardstock with meticulous Korean writing on it. No envelope, so I noticed it right away and tried to read it.

Usually I breeze past messages in Korean that are longer than a sentence or two, but this one was directed at me, by a mother who I know, about her daughter, who has been doing very well in my class. I couldn't understand all of it, but I found that I was past a threshold that I did not previously realize existed: I could understand enough of the letter to get feelings from it. She told me that her daughter had been worried about having class with me and fitting in with the other kids (she went to a different school for a couple of years and just returned). The mother told me a little about what her daughter was doing in my class, which was very interesting to read, like hearing your own voice echo back out of a cave reshaped such that it might have been someone else calling out, but still recognizably my own.

I found myself moved to tears. It made me so happy that the student felt cared for, and that she shared it with her mother, who shared it with me. On top of all that, I was reading and understanding it in Korean!

As I said, it's been a stressful year, and it's only May. This letter was so refreshing, a reminder that what I do makes a difference. It's not always easy to see when you're in the trenches, so it's good to have a direct reminder from time to time. And it's the first time that I've ever been moved like this by a text written in Korean! So I am kind of proud of myself for that as well!

And now it is after 1 a.m., guaranteeing that I will not be quite at my best tomorrow. But I got this story written out before sleeping on it, topping off the whole experience with another little sense of accomplishment.

Sermon: John 4:6-15

 Just Add Water

Rob Sack

April 14th, 2024

Holy Joy English Worship, Ttangeut Church

John 4:6-15

Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.)

Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

“Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?”

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again,but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

Introduction

She cannot stand the staring. She cannot stand the wave of silence that goes before her. They stop talking when she arrives, so there is no conversation to join. They start talking again as soon as she leaves, and she knows that they are talking about her. None of them want to be associated with her. It’s as though her sin were contagious, as though it could be passed to them through conversation. None of them want their husbands to be targeted by her. 

So she comes to the well at noon. 

Life in the desert is dry. Everyone needs water to survive, and everyone from the town of Sychar goes to Jacob’s Well for their water. You will find the women of the town there every morning, around sunrise, while the air is still cool from the night. But not her. She remembers going in morning with her mother, and when she first got married. The first time she got married. The friendly greetings, the casual laughter. The gossip. 

But when her husband divorced her everything changed. She no longer had a place with the other women. She had no home, no family, nothing but shame. She had nothing to offer except her body. She knew she was lucky when her second husband took her in. It did not feel very good or last very long, but it was a kind of safety. The third husband was not much better, and by the time the fifth grew tired of her, she gave up on the idea of being a wife.

She stays with any man who will give her shelter. When men talk to her it is never good.

Her life is dry. Dusty and dry, like those dead bones in the valley that God showed to Ezekiel.

The Encounter

Then Jesus enters the picture. And wherever Jesus goes, he breaks the rules. He meets this woman who has been rejected by her hometown, declared worthless, made invisible. And he sees her. He truly sees her. Maybe it’s the first time she’s been seen in a long, long time. He sees her and he does something audacious, something that no one else would think of doing.

Korea has just had an election. I’m going to do something that is a little bit dangerous here: For a moment, let’s imagine that Jesus was acting as a politician in this story. He would have had to follow his party's guidelines. One party says that she has gotten what she deserved: she made choices that brought her to this situation, she has brought this upon herself. If she works hard, she can get out of it. This version of Jesus offers her thoughts and prayers.

Another party decides that this is an injustice, and that the solution is to give her power, the opportunity for justice. Maybe even revenge. Take something away from the people who took from her, to even the score. This version of Jesus offers her money, power, status. 

But Jesus is not a politician. The politician sees everything in terms of right and left, liberal and conservative. Jesus is not looking left or right. Jesus is looking directly at her, directly at us. Jesus comes to her, and he sees her. Jesus doesn’t even think for one second about what is acceptable to the townspeople, or the political powers, or even his own disciples. Those are the world’s rules, and Jesus doesn't mind breaking them. Because Jesus is here to bring life.

Breaking the Rules

The first worldly rule that Jesus breaks is that he sees her. He sees her deep, real thirst. A thirst that Jacob’s well cannot satisfy. Because the kingdom of this world has rules about who is seen and who is invisible. Not just first century Judea, but every worldly kingdom, including ours. Poor people? We don’t see them. The homeless? Invisible. When someone with tattoos and piercings and wearing lots of leather walks into your church, do you talk to them? When you ride the subway and a dirty, smelly person gets on and talks to themselves--not on a bluetooth headset, but just talking out loud to themselves--what do people do? They ignore that person. That person is invisible. That’s the rule, and Jesus breaks it all the time! In Jesus’ kingdom, no one is invisible!

 The second worldly rule that Jesus breaks is that he talks to her. When she says to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” she is appealing to the only authority she knows: the same worldly kingdom that placed her at the bottom, with no friends, no family, no respect, and no love. The world says that men do not talk to women, and Jews do not talk to Samaritans. She does not yet see that she is dealing with a new kingdom. But she will!

The third worldly rule that Jesus breaks is suggesting the impossible. Water that quenches your thirst forever! When someone suggests the impossible, our usual reaction is to reject it. But Jesus is offering this woman something that she has not had for a long, long time. Hope. Every day, for years, she walked by herself in the heat of the day to Jacob’s well to get water. Every step a reminder that she was dry; an outsider, not acceptable, not part of the community. Until Jesus offered her an impossible hope: the water of life. 

Alternate Interpretations

In this sermon I have been telling you some things that I did not get directly from the Bible. These details about the women going to the well early in the morning, and the Samaritan woman’s life and feelings, are all my best guesses based on research and experience. It is my attempt to read the New Testament with 1st century eyes, to see the words in the page as real, living people. 

The Bible tells us what people said and did, but rarely tells us how they felt, or what they were thinking. Real, living people use tone and emotion in their voice, and we usually have to guess at that, too. For example:

He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

“I have no husband,” she replied.

Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.” -Mark 4:16-18

Oh, the guesses I’ve heard about these verses! In sermon after sermon I have heard people give Jesus a judgmental voice: “Damn right you ain’t got no husband!” 

I’ve also heard people give Jesus a dry, detached, factual voice: “That is correct. And, in fact, you have had five husbands.”

When Jesus spoke to her, he didn’t say anything about her circumstances, or how others had treated her. He didn’t promise her forgiveness, or justice, or punishment. But I think that in the voice of Jesus she heard a trickle of water. Something to convince her that he was telling the truth about this living water, and never being thirsty again. I can only conclude that she heard love and compassion, tenderness beneath his honesty.

 “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.” 

Her response is this:

“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet." Mark 4:19

She sees that Jesus is a prophet because he is doing what prophets do: he is breaking the rules of the world, bringing water to those who are thirsty. He understands that God does not want anyone to be thirsty. Jesus then breaks another rule by predicting an end to worship only at the temple. The Priests and Scribes will not be happy to hear about this one! Then…

The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”

Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.” -Mark 4:25-26

I believe that that is the moment when she knows that the water is real. Reading it today, and in the early church, we hear echoes of “I AM” from God introducing himself to Moses. But I don’t think the Samaritan woman heard it that way. Instead, she heard Isaiah’s promise of water gushing up in the wilderness. The promise of an end to thirst. After that, the Disciples show up,

Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him. -Mark 4:28-30

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did.” Such an amazing response. Under the rules of the world, we hide our problems in shame. The Samaritan woman was at a well in the desert, under the burning sun, at noon, because it was not as hot as the shame she felt from the other women.

 Shame is a powerful beast. It rides us, and controls our actions. It can motivate good behavior, but it will never regulate the heart. Shame is not the voice of God. Shame is not the movement of the Holy Spirit. Shame will leave you thirsty every time.

Why was she so ready to bring the whole village to meet Jesus? And how does she convince them to risk exposing their own dryness? Because her shame was washed away in the living water of God’s Truth.

There must have been something in Jesus’ voice that took her story of shame and changed it into something else. Something beautiful. Something so thirst-quenching and wonderful that she rushed off to the very people who had dried her out in shame, ready to share the gift of living water!

The Disciples

In the middle of this interaction, the disciples return and see Jesus having a conversation with this woman who he clearly should not be talking to! They think, “There goes Jesus, breaking the rules again,” but they don’t say anything. By now they are getting used to Jesus breaking the rules.

Instead, they have a conversation with him that is remarkably similar to the conversation with the Samaritan woman. This time instead of water it's about food. Jesus says he has food that they don't know about, and they're confused. While Jesus was tender with the Samaritan woman, he's a little bit harsher with his disciples. After all of this time with him, they should know better.

Our story ends with the entire town coming out to meet Jesus and believing in him, accepting his gospel. Drinking of the well that springs up eternal. They literally invite him to stay in their town, which he does.

The townspeople end up saying to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.” But never doubt that they first came to Jesus because of her! 

This is not usually considered an Easter story. But I think of it as one. The people of Sychar had killed this woman with shame. She was still walking around, breathing, going through the motions of life. Much like all of us used to do. Then Jesus came to visit, bringing life. We can’t know for sure, but I believe this story shows us the end of the Samaritan woman’s death, the beginning of her new life.

The resurrection is real, and it's more than just your body coming back to life after you die. It's your heart coming back to life, now. It's your dry bones coming back to life, NOW. It's the river of life flowing into you and out of you, NOW and FOREVER.

Conclusion

Most of the time, we, like Jesus, are also on our way. Sometimes we get to choose our direction, but more often than not the world pushes and pulls at us: to work, to school. We are pushed and pulled by friendships, the need for status, the desire to be cool, the fear of not blending in. The never ending thirst and frequent shame always drive us to something.

Sometimes we are the Samaritan woman, on our lonely way to the well to satisfy our thirst, avoiding those who have hurt us, or remind us of our pain, even strangers who might add to our shame. We are so resigned to our thirst that the idea of escaping it never occurs to us.

Sometimes we are the Disciples, doing our best to follow Jesus, but forgetting or misunderstanding that the water is right. Here. Close enough to touch, ready to refresh. But we just miss it. By that much. Or maybe a little more.

Last week we celebrated the Lord’s supper here together. We reminded ourselves and each other that we drink from the well of Jesus. Like the Samaritan woman so long ago, we have died to our old lives and been raised to the new. If you are like me, you need to be reminded every day that you have, inside you, that spring of water welling up to eternal life! You, living in Jesus, are an oasis in this dry, thirsty world! 

It doesn’t mean that we won’t get tired. Jesus got tired. 

It doesn’t mean that we will be good at it all the time. The Disciples certainly weren’t. 

It does mean that you are walking with Jesus, the source of our life!

See the invisible ones! Break through the shame! Suggest the impossible! It's all possible through Jesus!

Jesus is the spring of water welling up in you! 

River of Life

I’ve got a river of life flowing out of me,

Makes the lame to walk and the blind to see,

Opens prison doors, sets the captives free.

I’ve got a river of life flowing out of me.