Sun Kwak, “Invited to Thanksgiving”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TE263LYQkrA
TEXT: Psalm 95:1-11
[1] Oh come, let us sing to the LORD;
let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!
[2] Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving;
let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!
[3] For the LORD is a great God,
and a great King above all gods.
[4] In his hand are the depths of the earth;
the heights of the mountains are his also.
[5] The sea is his, for he made it,
and his hands formed the dry land.
[6] Oh come, let us worship and bow down;
let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker!
[7] For he is our God,
and we are the people of his pasture,
and the sheep of his hand.
Today, if you hear his voice,
[8] do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah,
as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,
[9] when your fathers put me to the test
and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work.
[10] For forty years I loathed that generation
and said, “They are a people who go astray in their heart,
and they have not known my ways.”
[11] Therefore I swore in my wrath,
“They shall not enter my rest.”
SERMON: “Invited to Thanksgiving”
Well, happy Thanksgiving Sunday. I don’t know if you knew this, but this is the last Sunday of the year according to the liturgical church calendar. Which is really fitting, because gratitude, i.e. Thanksgiving is a response. And we respond to what has happened, not what we expect to happen. And not just what has happened but to all that has happened in the past year. And starting next Sunday, with it being the first Sunday of Advent, we come together for the first Sunday of the next year in the liturgical church calendar. Jonathan Rauch wrote a book titled The Happiness Curve. And it’s a book observing some trends and patterns with — you guessed it, happiness. And something he noted was the correlation of gratitude and happiness. And something he noted was that people in or near their 40’s are the least happy. And the reason, according to his research, that people in their 40’s are the least happy is because they’re the least grateful. So, parents, before we tell our kids to be more grateful, let’s do a bit of a heart check first. Rauch notes that those in their and around their 40’s are least grateful because, in his studies, what he came to observe is that gratitude had strong correlations to expectations. And your 40’s are right around when you start realizing that your expectations from the past were unrealistic and may never be attained or achieved. I mean, Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. But you could fill in the blank for this — kids, career, marriage, finances, assets, church, friendships. I was able to meet with some of those serving to help lead the music here at Christ Our Redeemer. And something our sister Andria, who lead the music for us today, said about something she’s come to enjoy about Sunday Worship is that with our liturgy, there is an order, and with that she knows what to expect. And in the midst of some of what’s frenetic in this season of life, that’s been kind of what she needs. And it’s one of the comforts we take about the God we come to worship. That he’s unchanging. And because he’s unchanging, we know exactly what to expect from him. So, this really is the perfect place to recalibrate our gratitude, our thanksgiving. Because every Sunday, we as a community are invited to commune with our God who never changes — in who he is, in what he’s said, and in what he’s promised to us.
It’s been a common saying for Christians to say — Come as you are. Have you heard that before? You’ve probably heard churches say this, whether from the pulpit, on their websites, or just as a common saying. A friend of mine loves this little statement — and I think a little too much. And you know it is when people take something to be a verb, a noun, an adjective, and an adverb. It represents their end all be all. He’ll say things like — It’s come as you are in here. Or, We’re about that come as you are. Or, That’s not very come as you are of you. And there’s good intent and purposes to this statement, especially when it comes to churches. We want to be a welcoming community that invites people to be as they are — to share, open up, and reveal who they are without fear of shame. These are all great things. But αs Tim Keller says — that when we come to worship God, we can come as we are, but God will not leave us as we are. That there is something transformative about the gospel story that we come around in public worship. That while and actually because God and his promises are unchanging, when we encounter him in his grace, it changes us. That gratitude and thanksgiving change us to the core.
And so, today, we’re going to look into a Psalm that invites us into that space of worship, where we come as we are but where God won’t leave us as we are. And the way that this Psalm is constructed and arranged, there are two parts, or two movements, if you will. And both of these parts begin with the same invitation. And it’s the invitation to come. To come as you are but to know you will not be left as you are. And this invitation to come throughout the Scriptures is one of persuasion. And with the invitation of persuasion, this is directed toward those who don’t feel worthy or deserving to be invited and to come. We find this depicted carefully in Isaiah 55, where we read — Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. And you consider the careful wording here, it’s the currency of nothingness that we bring in response to this invitation. It’s how we come to the Lord’s Table every Sunday. Because it’s how sinners come to worship our God. We come expecting what George Bernanos called the sweet miracle of empty hands.
When you look at verses 1-5 of our passage today, you get the invitation in verses 1-2: “Oh come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!” And then, you look at part 2 of 2 of the Psalm in verses 6-11, and you also get the invitation in the very beginning in verse 6: “O come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker!” Those are words we often hear for our Call to Worship. And when you look at verses 1-2and verse 6, they’re spelling out the same invitation to come. And these invitations are to come and see. And to respond to what’s observed. This is an invitation for those who are observing in awe of God. But it’s also invitation for those are doubting, for those who must lift our heads. You look at verses 1-5, and this first movement ends with the event of the sea being made into dry ground. And if you recall this seminal event in Israel’s history, this was witnessed in the crossing of the Red Sea. When in Exodus 14:21, we read that the LORD drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. And then, you look over at verses 6-11, it ends with the event of Massah and Meribah. And these are the places of rebellion after the Israelites had been delivered from the Egyptiansand had already observed their salvation story. While in the wilderness, these represent the places of the Israelites’jaded wandering and refuting and complaining.
And so, when you look at this invitation to come, here we have the call both for those who are seeing from the vantage point of the parted waters and from the vantage point of rebellion in the wilderness — having already gone across the Red Sea. We have those near the event of this seminal event in crossing the Red Sea, along with those who are on the other side of the story. And maybe we can make sense of these extremes like this. For the first crowd, there’s a newnessto those near the event. They might have been those initially questioning the claims of God, having wondered about the validity of his sovereignty or his goodness or his promises to them. But they’re here examining the parting of the waters. And they’re invited to come. But then, there’s also this same invitation to come for those who have crossed long beforebut now are not just physically but spiritually also removed from that story of salvation. They’re jaded, they’re tired. And they’re rebelling, wandering, and at times unfaithful. And in Moses’ case with Massah and Meribah, this is not just a one time ordeal but as a repeat offender. These are people who are wondering if God is still with them, whether his promisesare still for them. And to these and to us, we’re told in verse 7 — For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. He is, and we are. These are present tense. That even in our sin, in our stumblingand misbehaving, in our jaded perspectives and in our dragging our feet, God doesn’t stop being our God, and we don’t stop being his people. He is, and we are. These are words for all in life stumbling, wandering, drifting, and pondering. Tenielle Neda and Jon Guerra have a song they wrote together titled The Invitation. And in the closing verse of that song, it reads —
Lord, you know me well
How much I doubt your love
Are you inviting me?
Even after all I’ve done
And the answer to that is yes and always and to come. And so, whatever place you might be coming from, the invitation is to come, to come and see, to come and worship, to come and be transformed. For in this place is where we find true gospel rest together.
That word worship is a derivation from an Old English word, with the etymology directing us to a combination of two words — worth and shape. And this is to say that what we esteem as worthy is going to shape us, which includes our mental composition but also includes our regular patterns — what we like to refer to as our liturgies. There’s a German poet by the name of Rainer Maria Rilke. And in one of his journals, he recalls a time when he spent hours in a museum. And he was particularly fixated upon a giant statue of the Greek god Apollos. And as he was astounded by the size, the artistry, and the grandeur of the statue, he records this reaction in his journal — I must change. You see, seeing something of greater significance than ourselves brings about a reaction, a response. It compels us to change, as a result, which is our worth shape. That what we come to encounter will have ultimate meaning in our lives with our worship. Because once again, worship is about our worth shape. It’s not just something we do but it shapes who we become. You look at the early parts of the Psalm, and there is a call to rejoice, to be joyful. And this is touching upon emotion. Then, you have the call in verse 6 to bow down. And this is about a commitment, about the will. Then, you have the charge that follows to listen. And this is about a cognitive practice. And so, the emotional, the volitional, and the cognitive — what comprises what’s called the spheres of personality. Here, all of our personhood is brought to and compelled to worship. Because worship is not just about some external habits. It changes who we are at the core.
Eugene Peterson notes of the intentionality of liturgical practices and the liturgical gatherings of the church in order to combat what’s pulling our commitments and worship in diverging directions. In an extended quote, he writes: “Liturgy gathers the holy community as it reads the Holy Scriptures into the sweeping tidal rhythms of the church year in which the story of Jesus and the Christian makes its rounds century after century, the large and easy interior rhythms of a year that moves from birth, life, death, resurrection onto spirit, obedience, faith, and blessing. Without liturgy we lose the rhythms and end up tangled in the jerky, ill-timed, and insensitive interruptions of public-relations campaigns, school openings and closings, sales days, tax deadlines, inventory and elections. Advent is buried under ‘shopping days before Christmas.’ The joyful disciplines of Lent are exchanged for the anxious penitentials of filling out income tax forms. Liturgy keeps us in touch with the story as it defines and shapes our beginnings and ends, our living and dying, our rebirths and blessing in this Holy Spirit, text-formed community visible and invisible.” With the urge and stress that if we aren’t gathering for worship — whether we feel like it or are feeling it or not. If we don’t make this a practice, a pattern, then there will be something else that ultimately shapes us to becoming and looking more like it. Because we’re not God, we are not unchanging. Our hearts and our lives, on this side of glory, are meant for transformation.
And as Peterson states subsequently, liturgy is that which gets us into the sanctuary, into our sacred place. And this isn’t a sacred place of isolation — it’s not your quiet time or your personal devotion time. But this sacred place is that of community. This is the place where you’re known by God and known by those around you. This is the place of adoration and attention, of listening and receiving, of believing and confessing before God. A place that is not only informational but ultimately transformational — the holy community of God’s people in the public space of worship. We carve out intentional moments in our week to come together in this fashion, not just to go through the motions but with the conviction that these patterns, this liturgy is formative for a worshiping people. Because we come around an incredible story.
And here’s where I want to go back to the story of the Israelites, with this recall of a place referred to as Massah and Meribah. I noted earlier that this was a repeat event, where a certain action happened twice. And it was Moses striking the rock in order that it might burst with water, to quench the thirst of these Israelites who were complaining about their circumstances in the wilderness. And according to verse 9 of our passage, it was the place where these Israelites put God to the test and put him to the proof, though they had seen his work. That they saw him part the Red Sea and declare them a new people. That they saw their enemies and former captors held in the Red Sea and ultimately defeated. Even so, they put him to the test, to the proof. And in Exodus 17:2, in the original story, the wording is strong. It says quarrelbut in the Hebrew, this is asking God for legal redress. They’re putting God on the stand, saying — You promised to be our God, and you’re not pulling through. You’re not who we thought you were, and you’re not being true to your word. And we want out of this covenant relationship.
As some of you know, I spent the past week plus in jury duty. I was Juror Number 3 for this trial that lasted a little over a week. And the verdict was a unanimous guilty on all charges. And all of us were convinced of this right when the defendant decided to take the stand. Because the moment she took the stand, it was clear that everything she was saying was a lie. I don’t know how this rings to you, but these Israelites are saying to God, in essence — You’ve lied to us. And we don’t believe you. Now, if you look at this story in Exodus 17, in verses 5-6, we read there — And the LORD said to Moses, “Pass on before the people, taking with you some of the elders of Israel, and take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. Behold, I will stand before you there on the rock at Horeb, and you shall strike the rock, and water shall come out of it, and the people will drink.” What God says, in essence, is put me on the stand, let me testify. And what he’s out to declare and pronounce is not that the people are in the wrong, though they are. It’s not that they were guilty and deserving wrath, though they were. But in handling this legal redress, here is God saying that while his people want to leave him, he’s committed to staying. And the way he proves this is by having Moses take this staff, which was the instrument of divine judgment — the same staff that struck the Nile, that brought frogs, gnats, hail, and locusts. The same staff that was raised when parting the Red Sea. This staff once again strikes — language of judgment. But not upon the guilty. This time, upon the innocent. God who stands on the rock and proves himself to be the rock of their salvation. He tells Moses — Strike me.
And you look at the end of that story, in Exodus 17:7, and there’s a summary question of the experience of these Israelites, where they wonder — Is the Lord among us or not? And it’s the same thing we often wonder and question. Whenever life hits us in ways that seem unkind and lacking God’s goodness. We ask — Is the Lord among us or not? When we go through seasons of dryness and spiritual fatigue. In these seasons of spiritual slumber. We ask — Is the Lord among us or not? When we go through seasons of losing people we love — a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, a friend. And we’re left wondering and questioning — Is the Lord among us or not? And even when we’re complaining and wanting out of our relationship with God. Even when we’ve accused him who’s never wronged us that he’s lied to us, that he hasn’t been true. There, we ask the question — Is the Lord among us or not? Our Psalm this morning tells us that this place, the place of worship is the safe space and place to come and ask that question with and alongside one another — Is the Lord among us or not? Because when we do, when we ask that question, someone will direct you to the rock of our salvation. We’ll point each other to the place where the innocent was struck in place of the guilty. We have our reorientation and recalibration station at the cross, where the ultimate wrath of God was poured upon one who took the stand and has scars to bear witness to that fact. And forever testifies to us Immanuel, that he is God with us. That he’s never left our side and is committed to stay. That indeed, his testimony is true — that he loves us, and he’ll always take care of us. So, my friends, Let us come. With all of our confusion, with our fears, with our doubts, with our questions. Is the Lord among us or not? The cross ensures us that he is. Let’s bring one another to our place of reorientation, as we come together through all avenues of our human experiences.
