Sun Kwak, “Lampstands in a Dingy World”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4psrwLtFI4

TEXT: Mark 4:21-25

[21] And he said to them, “Is a lamp brought in to be put under a basket, or under a bed, and not on a stand? [22] For nothing is hidden except to be made manifest; nor is anything secret except to come to light. [23] If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.” [24] And he said to them, “Pay attention to what you hear: with the measure you use, it will be measured to you, and still more will be added to you. [25] For to the one who has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”

SERMON: “Lampstands in a Dingy World”

When I was in third grade, I had a music teacher — we’ll call her Mrs. Paul. She had on her desk what she called Spider Eggs, which was her way of saying Skittles. And I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth. My children pay taxes to me, as their chauffeur, on their Halloween candy every year. And the Skittles are the first to make it into Daddy’s tax collection, especially the larger than fun size. Which brings us back to music class. Mrs. Paul had this tantalizing jar filled with Spider Eggs. And one day, the temptation from where I was sitting was just far too strong. So, I left my seat to sneak in some unearned Spider Eggs, while Mrs. Paul had been out of the classroom for a short moment. And I thought it was just enough time to get my hands on some of those Spider Eggs. The problem was that she had returned, and I hadn’t realized. And she saw the whole ordeal unravel before her eyes. And so, she came up behind me and did her teacherly Ahem. And so, I froze, I clenched my fist, and after a second or two, shoved my hands into my in pockets. And she proceeded to ask me what I was doing. And what do all kids say when they’re in trouble, and they’re asked what they were doing? Nothing. And by this time, because I had shoved my hands into my pockets and opened my hands,I thought I had put all the evidences of my misdeeds and criminal activity involving these Spider Eggs into the darkness of my pockets — never to be exposed by anyone, especially Mrs. Paul. Because I knew what was coming next. And so, I thought I had outsmarted her. And just as I had expected, she proceeded to say — Show me your hands. And I did so gladly, because I thought I had hidden the evidences into the darkness of my pockets. But to my dismay, when I showed her my hands and opened up my palms, there were the incriminating evidences of Yellow Dye 5 and Red Dye 40. I was literally caught red handed. Because what I wanted to hide was brought from out of the darkness and into the light.

And that’s a particular focus that we find with our passage today. That the light is there in order to make visible things that are hidden in the darkness. And what we read in verse 21 of our passage today is that this lamp is not meant to be put under a basket or under a bed. But rather, it’s meant to be put upon a stand. Which is then of course, not just a stand but a lampstand. And something that Jesus calls the churches in the book of Revelation is a lampstand. And that formula that we read in verse 23 — He who has an ear to hear, let him hear. It’s this same formula that Jesuspronounces to each of the seven addressed churches, these lampstands, in Revelation 2-3. That as a lampstand, as a church, it’s our purpose not to put the light under a basket or under a bed. But to shine the light of Christ while positioned in a world filled with darkness. Because as we read in verses 24-25, there is a sense of responsibility that’s attached to those with this light. We, as a church, don’t hoard the light to ourselves, but it’s our responsibility and duty to share it, expose it, shine it into dark and dingy places.

During Jesus’ time, the lamp that he’s referring to was a common clay lamp that was to be filled with oil in order to keep it lit with fire. And this was to be used in the middle of the night, when the sun was down, as the only source of light for each home. And most homes at that time only had one large room as a common living space, and so, this lamp would have been put in the middle of the room and on a stand to light up the entire house. And we mentioned the church as a lampstand in the New Testament. But that wasn’t original to New Testament times. But the lampstand and its particular relation to the lamp and to light is something that went all the way back to the experience of the Old Testament Jews. You might know the words of Psalm 119:105 — Your Word is a light to my feet and a lamp to my path. And in this parallel structure, light and lamp are used interchangeably, and feet and path are used interchangeably. My professor in seminary Hywel Jones made this verse come to life for me, in his thick Welsh accent. And what he noted was that in the Hebrew, the word translated as feet is actually in the singular. It’s more literally — Your Word is a light to my foot and a lamp to my path. That it’s about walking and specifically walking in a dark world. That it’s step by step, every step of the way — every walking moment, every trip and stumble — where God’s Word sticks and stays with his people. And something that the Jews would have known through the lamp and the lampstand in the Tabernacle is that the light was always on. Someone was always in charge of making sure that these lights stayed on, by keeping the fire going. And this shone light onto the table of presence and everything else in the holy of holies. Since there were no windows in there, it was the only light source. And this golden lampstand — what we also know as the menorah — was kept lit with oil, never to be extinguished. And this was to represent that God’s presence with his people and his promises for his people were never extinguished. And it was an incredible comfort to know — that despite all of Israel’s failures and moments of disobedience and unfaithfulness, God was committed to stay. That his Word and his promises would remain the same, even with sinful enactments and disappointments from the people. That there was an abiding presence of God and his Word.

And not just to highlight God’s unchanging position of loyalty to those he’s committed to love. But light is something we need to navigate the terrains of deep darkness. You and I live in a dark world. There is something literally called the dark web, where evil and wickedness run rampant, where people do horrible things to unassuming people. We live in a world of human trafficking, of child abduction and exploitation, of broken families and corrupt systems. We live in a world with the disparity of 25 million dollar mansions and impoverished slums with inhumane living circumstances. We live in a world that, in the words of Tom Wright, is not a nice old place. In his Advent reflections, he writes —

Christmas is not a reminder that the world is really quite a nice old place. It reminds us that the world is a shockingly bad old place, where wickedness flourishes unchecked, where children are murdered, where civilized countries make a lot of money by selling weapons to uncivilized ones so they can blow each other apart. Christmas is God lighting a candle, and you don’t light a candle in a room that’s already full of sunlight. You light a candle in a room that’s so murky that the candle, when lit, reveals just how bad things really are.

And so, you see, when the church is positioned into this darkness, it’s not an option to shine the light — it’s our responsibility. In this world of abuse and trauma and prejudice and discrimination and injustice and war, what this world needs is for the church to be the church. And for the church to do what we’re responsible to do — to shine the light of Christ into dark and dampened places, to hold evil responsible for necessary consequences. And it’s here that I find the thoughts of J. Lambrecht helpful when examining the structure of these verses. And in summary, he notes that the lampand the measure are not two distinct but interrelated explanations of the same lesson, linking together what is made manifest in verse 22 with what is measured in verse 24. That in rabbinic literature, this combination of exposure and manifestation with measuring had to do with divine judgment that possessed an exactness to it.

You look again at verse 22 of our passage: “For nothing is hidden except to be made manifest; nor is anything secret except to come to light.” And it’s really saying the same thing twice, which in biblical writing is for the sake of emphasis. In fact, the same two words are used in both adjectival and passive forms in order to make the emphasis that light exposes secrets. And the particular emphasis that Jesus has in mind we read also over in 1 Corinthians 4:5 when those same two words are used once again, with the apostle Paul seeking to bring to light the sins of the Corinthians he’s writing to — “Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart.” This is about one of the purposes of light — that it shines into the darkness in order to expose what’s hidden and otherwise unseen. And so, Leslie Newbiggin in his Gospel in a Pluralist Society writes about our purpose as the church, as lampstands, saying —

The local congregation stands in the wider community of neighborhood and nation, not primarily as the promoter of programs for social change but primarily as itself the foretaste of a different social order. Its members will be advocates for human liberation by themselves being liberated. Its actions for justice and for peace will be and will seem to be the overflow of a life in Christ where God’s justice and peace are already an experienced treasure.

And just a question that I have for you to consider. When do you feel the overflow of a life in Christ? Because while it’s true that all of the wickedness and darkness out there will be dealt with according to God’s exactness, I don’t know if rejoicing in others’ impending judgment is what stirs up the love of Christ in our community. But there’s something about the church that’s simultaneously strange and beautiful when we function the way lampstands were designed to. Because the light is not us. The church is not the light. The church is the lampstand that heralds the light, which is Jesus Christ. And if we are to assume the responsibility of shining the light of Christ, we commit to putting this light in the very center of our life together, just as lampstands were in the very center of dark and dampened rooms. And something that Joseph Joubert writes: “What is true by lamplight is not always true by sunlight.” Meaning, there’s a way we can shine a false light that gives the semblance of Christ but isn’t actually. There’s a way where we can talk about Jesus without shining the light of the gospel. And one litmus test to that is how sinners react to the light shining on our sins.

Because while this world is filled with monsters, which it is, what makes the light of Christ so attractive and beautiful is that there is something so honest with the message of the gospel. Judy’s been reading this historical fiction work by Stephen King. But he’s most well-known for his horror novels. And so, he knows a thing or two about monsters. And when reflecting on how and why he wrote so prodigiously these horror stories, he once said: “Monsters are real, ghosts are real too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win.” As Jack from King’s popular book turned film The Shining is told — You have always been the caretaker, Mr. Torrance. There’s a monster inside all of us. And while the monsters out there are often terrifying in this world, there are monsters in here. And if we don’t shine a light where it’s dark in our hearts, these monsters will not only grow but will overtake us. And there is nothing more blinding than hypocrisy and blame shifting and finger pointing. And that’s not to minimize the ugliness in our societies and the tragic occurrences around us circumstantially. But there’s a more horrible condition, and it’s the monster we often can’t see. And it’s become a modern trend, in the age of vulnerability and digging into the roots of shame. I love the work of Brene Brown — she’s been instrumental for so many individuals and communities to find healing. Which is why I find it so infuriating when I find her work assumed by those who are actually the perpetrators and not the victims. Because in this age of vulnerability, we often assume vulnerability to be about how we share of others who have hurt us or how we’ve been victims of deep pain. And those are incredibly important. But if you don’t know how to admit to your own wrongs, your own sins. If you don’t know how to admit to how you have personally and regrettably hurt people and how you have deeply offended God, there’s a monster, a deep darkness that you’re not seeing.

Back to my third grade self, the story shared in the beginning about getting caught redhanded. Because much like my incident when I was a little eager with my hands in the Spider Egg jar. And then, caught by my teacher with the evidences of Spider Eggs on my hands, with the Yellow dye 5 and the Red dye 40. On an adult and more serious and consequential level, that’s our deep fear, isn’t it? We don’t want to be found out. We don’t want people to actually know what we’re likeand what we’ve done and what we need to confess to. And it’s heavy — carrying all of that burden. It’s suffocating having to hide that and living in the fear of getting exposed. And what this parable simultaneously shows us is that God is an all-seeing and exacting God. Meaning he knows and sees all the evidences of our stains, of our sins, of our imperfections, and of our moral inconsistencies. And yet, at the very same time, if we bring it out into the open, he has a remedy for that heaviness, that suffocating feeling of living in the fear of getting found out. Because here’s what happens in gospel communities, lampstands that shine the light of Christ. When these stains and incriminating evidences are brought out from the darkness of our hiding and into the light, it turns the page from our shame to deep grace. Because in the gospel of Jesus, when God the judge, who sees all and knows all, says to us — Show me your hands. At this moment, Jesus is eager to show us his. And these are the nail-pierced and punctured hands with the evidences of paying in full everything deserving of what we’ve done with our hands — our public wrongdoings, our secret and hidden sins. And so, there is a real confidence to be able to show our hands. For while Jesus lived a perfect life, without stain or disobedience, these hands are committed to hold ours. And in this commitment, his hands were painted red — covering our transgressionswith his costly blood. And these hands were pierced and remain punctured even today. To show us, to show his Fatherthat our sins are paid in full. And the hope for us who are in Christ Jesus is that when the light of Christ calls upon us to show our sins, to show our hands, Jesus, our high priest, is eager to show us his. Out come the nail-pierced and punctured hands of Jesus — the very hands that Thomas saw that resulted in his exclamation that turned his doubting to faith — My Lord and my God. The hands that represent his substitutionary sacrifice and his finished works. But also the hands that mend and bring healing to a hurting world in the shadows of deep darkness. And this, my friends, is a beauty that no story in this world can match. I challenge you to bring me a better story than God stepping into the mess and into the place of sinners who had rebelled against him and not only absolving guilt but doing so by taking it upon himself.

This, church family, is how we shine a light upon this world. It starts by shining it upon our own sins. Not the sins out there, but the sins in here. The sins we know so well and often don’t know what to do with. This is what we make our commitment as lampstands in a dark world. We commit to making Christ and his gospel the center, and we commit to shining his light on all the dark places in this world, which must start with our own sin. Not what happens out there, not what happened to me. But what I did — actively and profusely in my own rebellion from my own sinfulness and wretchedness. And in this convergence of confession and forgiveness and being taken from hiding to transparency, from darkness to light. In this beautiful convergence, the world gets to witness a transformed community. Something that is not only exposing but uniquely beautiful and attractive and ultimately transformative. Charles Spurgeon says that while the church reads the Bible, the world reads Christians. The outside world studies what we do and how we behave as a community. And I don’t think what the world needs to see is a community with improved behavior. There’s no hope there. Because when they see us, that can’t be all they see. The world’s hope lies in the one we’re to point to. They need to see a community of forgiveness. That what they need to see is what we serve as windows to. Because we are not the light. But the light shines through us. And like glass with severs and slivers and cracks, when the light of the gospel shines through our fractures and our brokenness and our perpetual posture of confession, the light will shine colors through angles that radiate the beauty of our God’s redeeming grace. Let’s commit to shining that light upon one another — not so that we can see how ugly our hearts are but ultimately to show one another how beautiful Jesus and his grace is. Let’s swim in it, live in, come around it. There is no safer place to be for sinners who live in the dinginess of this broken world.