Sun Kwak, “The Mystery of the Faith”

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

TEXT: Mark 4:1-20

[1] Again he began to teach beside the sea. And a very large crowd gathered about him, so that he got into a boat and sat in it on the sea, and the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land. [2] And he was teaching them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: [3] “Listen! Behold, a sower went out to sow. [4] And as he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. [5] Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. [6] And when the sun rose, it was scorched, and since it had no root, it withered away. [7] Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. [8] And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold.” [9] And he said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”

[10] And when he was alone, those around him with the twelve asked him about the parables. [11] And he said to them, “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, [12] so that

“‘they may indeed see but not perceive,

and may indeed hear but not understand,

lest they should turn and be forgiven.’”

[13] And he said to them, “Do you not understand this parable? How then will you understand all the parables? [14] The sower sows the word. [15] And these are the ones along the path, where the word is sown: when they hear, Satan immediately comes and takes away the word that is sown in them. [16] And these are the ones sown on rocky ground: the ones who, when they hear the word, immediately receive it with joy. [17] And they have no root in themselves, but endure for a while; then, when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately they fall away. [18] And others are the ones sown among thorns. They are those who hear the word, [19] but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. [20] But those that were sown on the good soil are the ones who hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold.”

SERMON: “The Mystery of the Faith”

There’s an author by the name of Joe Queenan. He’s less novelist and more humorist in book writing form but certainly a book enthusiast. I came across him first in an NPR interview a while back, but he’s since written a book titled One for the Books. He shares about reading something like 24 to 80 books at the same time. Even saying that it took him 34 years to read through and finish Middlemarch. And he’s yet to pass page 100 in Moby Dick. Some books he flies through, others take him a bit longer. But he’s always simultaneously in numerous novels, not necessarily because his attention span is short but because it’s his way of self-coping. And he needs a different drug depending on the day. He’s shared that his own story is often too sad to stay in. That he’s tried wine bottles and overnight relationships. But these didn’t sustain. What gripped his heart, however, more than these other self-coping mechanisms was entering other stories and worlds through these novels. And that’s the power of a story. It has the ability to transport our imaginations from one place to another. I’m just going to take a small bite and less of a holistic take on this parable today, with it being part 3 of 3 today. We’ve discussed the purpose of this parable, we’ve shown how it relates to the Word of God and our receiving of it. But with our final take on it, I want to take us through it as those who possess sad stories. And instead of seeking to find an escape, to find a way out. Instead, we meet one who finds his way in, who enters into the sadness. As the sower and the seed, here is one who enters into our soiled and dampened realities. That when we can habit ourselves to look at this story, it will not only helps us cope with our sad realities but will transport and lifts us up in order to transform our imaginations toward the reality of happily ever after, the great epilogue for those in The Story of God.

Because when Jesus told this initial audience this parable, he was taking something everyday and ordinary to the becoming of something supernatural. We’ve noted that all the elements of this parable have everyday and ordinary elements — all except for one thing, which is the yielding. Thirtyfold was a good haul, sixtyfold was a generational haul, and a hundredfold was an extraordinary, out of this worldhaul. That some of this initial audience had sown on good soil before, and they’d never gotten this kind of result. And they would have been wondering — What is the secret? And the question might have been — How does something so extraordinary burst out of something seemingly so ordinary and mundane? And maybe you’re in that season right now — the grind of the mundane, the ordinary, the unexciting, the exhausting. Perhaps, it’s been a tough season that seems fruitless. And maybe, you’ve tried different coping mechanisms and methods. But like Albert Camus once said, you’re feeling that the weight of days is dreadful. For most of us, I’d presume, that our desire might be to escape this ordinary. That you’ve tried different things in your context, and it just hasn’t worked. And you’re thinking — That if you’re in a problem, maybe the solution is to move away from it. You may feel stuck or discontent in your marriage. And so, you seek an escape — for something outside of your marriage. Or, with some of us, this might be a tough season of parenting. And when you feel stuck, maybe your temporary escape has been to immerse yourself onto that 6.1 inch screen. Whatever your version of ordinary might be, our self-derived solution is often escapism. But what The Kingdom of God offers us is not of us moving out of our context but of Jesus moving in. Into all the clutter, into all the stains, into all the mountains of dirty laundry and undone dishes. For some of us, that’s literal, for others figurative. But in God’s economy, Jesus moves into all of this, as the out of ordinary who bursts into our ordinaryto give us an otherworldly perspective on living.

Because when Jesus is talking about his Kingdom here in Mark 4, he’s not only using an ordinary analogy, he’s confronting a people with what they thought were clear expectations — those who thought they knew how the story would unfold. Because the Jews, at this time, already had in their minds their own understanding of The Kingdom of God. That when God’s Kingdom was to be inaugurated, there was to be a Messiah. And they thought that it was to be a king who would take back Jerusalem. And so, when Jesus says in verse 12 — They may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven. This is one of the more well-known and well-recalled portions of the Old Testament. It was familiar language but not one of happiness and cheer. But rather, it was something they may have wanted to create distance from, may have wanted to escape from. And Jesus here is taking them and us back to the mess, to the clutter, to the stains, to the mountains to hurdle. Because when he’s referring to a vision recorded in Isaiah 6, this was a distraught prophet who didn’t know what to think for his people. He would preach to unresponsive ears and hearts. And so, God shows him the devastation that would come due to their unresponsiveness. And so, Isaiah asks God — How long, O LORD? When is the story going to get better? Because in the beginning of Isaiah 6, the very first thing that the prophet notes is that it was the year King Uzziah died. So, it was a season of transition and change. But what does he see? Isaiah 6:1 tells us that he saw a throne. And the importance of this was that Uzziah had been a stabilizing kingfor Judah. During his time, the nation had experienced prosperity and peace. And so, his death would have been rattling. But Isaiah notes that it’s in this time of uncertainty, he placed his eyes upon something concrete — not the musical chairs played by finite kings. But he placed his eyes upon the real throne, with a king who’s always been ruling, regardless of who was wearing the crown in Jerusalem. And with Jesus, this countercultural king. When he tells this parable, he’s seeing the same unrest from the people around him. But he’s calling upon them to see that his Kingdom was different, because he was different.

There’s this song by Andrew Peterson titled Is He Worthy? Some of you might have heard it before, and it’s a song that’s sung antiphonally, with this call and response from the leader to the congregation. And the song begins by asking not triumphant but reality-laced questions — Do you feel the world is broken? Do you feel the shadows deepen? To which the congregation responds — We do. But then, he starts asking — But do you know that all the dark won’t stop the light from getting through? Do you wish that you could see it all made new? To which, the congregation responds once again — We do. Into this shared experience of not only life’s darknesses but a shared longing for the light to burst in. And it’s right on brand with what Jesus presents in this parable. Because much like Andrew Peterson’ssong, with The Kingdom of God, there’s not this triumphant song that the king marches into. But it’s a somber and sorrowful beginning. One involving an unconventional pregnancy, a scandalous birth storythat made its way around rumor mills. And while kings were typically born in palaces, here was one who couldn’t even find an inn for a birthing place. And you think about the first of the three soils that fail to bear fruit in the parable. The first of these that are mentioned is the path, and this could also be translated as road. And roads were often built and paved for the entrance of the mighty kings and emperors of this time when they would go on these things called triumphal processions. And when on these roads, these kings are enthralled by the might of their victories and to the adulation of the crowds. But of course, that’s not how Jesus entered this world and brought forth his kingdom.

Because while the kings of this world would have necessitated slaves to come and build the roads that they would triumphantly parade through, in King Jesus, he doesn’t demand his servants make a road for him but he make a road for us. That he came beneath his servants to lift us up, lift up our hearts. He would tell Pilate mere hours before his death in John 18:33-36 that it’s not his servants who fight for him but he who fights for his servants. Because his kingdom is not of this world. For it was Jesus who would travel this life-sapping road — not of victory and enthrallment but the road up Calvary’s hill. To not the celebration and adulations of the crowd but to their jeering and mockery. In this upside down, countercultural way, this King walked a road of suffering so that ours would be the road to everlasting life. Because while the rulers of this world talk about their power by how they would bury others, in Jesus, we have our king who says his rule is promised through how he as the Word become flesh, as the seed in this parable and in God’s redemptive story, would himself be buried — on behalf of and in the place of his people. That in order to bring this hundredfold yielding, this supernatural and otherworldly outcome for the people, he entered our soiled realities and buried himself into our mess.

And here lies the mystery, the secret. That the reason why this kingdom is different is because our king is different. And we find that word secret in verse 11. In the Greek, it’s the word μυστηριον, which is where we get the word mystery, which is where we get the phrase the mystery of the faith. And that phrase — the mystery of the faith. This has been something proclaimed in churches to invite people to the Lord’s Supper. Where the one administering the Supper calls to the congregation — Therefore, we proclaim the mystery of the faith. That something is revealed to us in this meal, and it’s something mysterious simultaneously. My wife Judy was reading an Agatha Christie mystery novel a couple weeks ago. And her reaction was one of entertainment and suspense, as she was on the edge of her seat the entire time, unsure of the outcome of the story. But unlike Agatha Christie mystery novels, the mystery that Jesus narrates and enacts is not inviting us into a story of suspense — to this place of unrest and uncertainty. But rather, he comes into our stories that are often filled with feelings of unrestand uncertainty, in order to lift us to certain realities. Because here’s the invitation. The mystery of the faith we read of in Colossians 1:26 — The mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints, which is him we proclaim. That as Jesus proclaimed his kingdom, he came to say — All eyes on me. And something Richard Hays says in his short essay on the Gospel of Mark. He writes that what the Gospel of Mark does through its sixteen chapters is reverse the placement of insiders and outsiders. It turns everything upside down. And the mystery of this upside down kingdom happens with the entrance of the king. That for us who are sinners and offenders to the throne, our placement should be outside of God’s Kingdom, outside of his home, nowhere near his Table. That those with stained and guilty hands shouldn’t have access to the costly things of God. And yet, the body and blood of Jesus calls upon us — Therefore, we proclaim the mystery of the faith. Not the logic of this world, because by that logic we don’t belong to God. But by divine mystery, we have belonging because of the one revealed to us to realign our hearts from our disoriented expectations and to rebuild our hope in him.

My sisters and my brothers, we need this proclaimed and announced to us, and we need to proclaim it and announce it to one another. For such is the nature of good news. It’s something that’s pronouncedto us as a verdict that’s been achieved outside of us. And when you take a step back and observe the parable, in Jesus’ first narrating of it, it begins and closes with the word hearing in verse 3 and verse 9. And it’s the central activity of those involved with this activity of sowing here in The Kingdom of God, with this seed who plants himself into our soil. And something we have to plant our hearts in — hearing is a response. It’s not the initial movement and has no power in and of itself. Hearing has no power to change what has happened and what has been uttered. What’s done is done, and what’s said has been said. Our deceived or altered or slanted hearing has no power to objectively change or alter anything Jesus has done and has declared upon us. That our stories might suggest to us that we don’t have belonging in God’s family. Maybe you come from a broken family, and when you hear words from a Father, it comes with distrust. Maybe you listen with skepticism, because people have underdelivered on their promises to you. If that’s you, The Kingdom of God invites you in. Because the promises of the Bible aren’t to ease us into reluctantly trusting in an uncertain future. But it’s to ground us in what has been been done — that Christ has died, Christ as risen. And so, Christ will come again. Because the mystery is not about what might happen. The mystery lies with why we get to have it. Because it’s a mystery that the children of God have open access to. That you may have done and said some terrible things in your past. You may even say and do some terrible things in your future. But if you trust that Jesus’ actions are stronger than yours and his words more definitive than yours, then we have access to God’s family dinner table. And we might have some bad table manners when it comes to the Lord’s Table. Maybe you speak out of turn. Maybe you eat before the host invites you in. Maybe you complain about the ordinariness of the meal. And yet, time and time again, it’s a Table that we’re invited into for us who are plunged into God’s deep well of grace. Because it’s for God’s family, and our God never leaves his adopted daughters and sons. For such is the promise of the gospel. So friends, enter into this mystery today and forever. It’s for you, when you understand the mystery of how the King would leave his seat of privilege in order to give adopted daughters and sons rightful seats purchased by his blood and sacrifice to sit around the King’s Table.

There’s a Latin word wiaticum. And what this word represented was something that civil magistrates in the first century would take with them — necessary food, clothing, and drink for travel. And it came to be referred to as the last time someone would take the Lord’s Supper, because it was your meal for your way home. But it eventually became what every Lord’s Supper was called, because during persecution, it was never really known when it would be one’s last time taking Communion. Because Forrest Gump tells us — Life is like a box of chocolates. But here we are met with a sweet convergence — that while we might not know what to expect in the next moments of life, we know what ultimately lies on the other side. And wouldn’t you know? And aren’t we often reminded? Jesusadministered this sacrament the night before he was betrayed. Because his disciples wouldn’t know what would come after, but he did. Because he didn’t give this meal to his disciples because they’d earn it. But he gave it to them, because he knew they would need it. Because they didn’t know what would happen, but Jesus did. And so, he gave them this gospel meal. To confront their shame of leaving and betraying their friend at his most desperate hour of need. To address the guilt of cowardice and running away. To shatter the narratives in them and in us that say — I left him, so why would he stay with me? To all of these things, he proclaims his words to confront their false narratives and ours. That what he says to us is stronger than what we say to ourselves. That the body and blood of Jesus would week by week transport us to the reality that is ours only in Christ. That our stories might be sad and heavy. But in the Supper, in the Story of the Gospel, our King lifts up our chins, and he lifts our hearts to have us see what is unreservedly ours because of his sacrifice for us when he entered into our plight, our mess, our brokenness, and sinful history. The mystery of the faith. That together, we might proclaim what Christ has done — that Christ has died, Christ has risen, and that Christ will come again. And until then, we keep the feast, and we keep proclaiming this on our way home, for you and I — as uncertain as our stories might seem — can rest on solid hope.