Luke 9:28-36
Remembering Our Lines
James Sledge February
7, 2016
In
a recent speech at a small, Christian college in Iowa, Donald Trump lamented
Christianity’s loss of prestige in America but promised that would end if he is
elected. Said Trump, "Because if I'm there, you're going to have plenty of
power. You don't need anybody else. You're going to have somebody representing
you very, very well. Remember that."[1]
I
appreciate Mr. Trump’s concern for the state of the church, but I’m not sure he
understands the nature of Christian power. It is God’s power, “power made
perfect in weakness,” power most evident in the cross. I don’t think Trump gets
that at all, but based on my own actions, as well as those of congregations, denominations,
and all manner of “Christian” entities, I’m not sure very many of us get it
either.
Lately
I’ve been struggling with this issue of so many Christians, myself included,
doing a rather bad job of following Jesus. I think that’s why I recently heard well-known
quote from 19th century philosopher Soren Kierkegaard in a way I
hadn’t before. He said, “People have an idea that the preacher is an actor on a
stage and they are the critics, blaming or praising him. What they don't know
is that they are the actors on the stage; (the preacher) is merely the prompter
standing in the wings, reminding them of their lost lines.”
I’ve
used this quote many times, always to talk about worship. But when it popped up
online the other day, I was struck by those final words about “lost lines.” If
you’ve ever acted, even in an elementary school play, you likely know what it
feels like to forget your lines. You can’t do your job as an actor if you don’t
know your lines. There’s not really much reason to go on the stage if you have
no idea what you are supposed to say or do. But what of these lost lines Kierkegaard
mentions?
Have we forgotten our lines, forgotten
what we are supposed to say or do as actors in God’s drama? Did we never learn
them in the first place? Did we study the wrong parts of the script, not the
parts we need to know? Are we unsure if we want to be actors at all. Or do we
not like to take direction, preferring to ad lib?
I
think that a great deal of the Bible, certainly much the New Testament, was
written to help us remember our lines. Because people get caught up in debates
about the historical or even scientific accuracy of Scripture, it’s easy to
forget that the writers were often more like preachers. The gospel writers were
trying to help their congregations remember lines, remember what was crucial
and important. Their churches already knew who Christ was. They weren’t trying
to introduce Jesus to anyone. They were worried about people getting off track,
forgetting their lines.
When
Luke writes his account of the Transfiguration, he’s not reporting any newly
discovered facts. The story was already well known. Mark wrote about it long
before Luke did. Luke does, however, use the story to prompt his congregation about
their lines.
The
basic outline of the Transfiguration story is the same in Matthew, Mark, and
Luke, but Luke rearranges the story in a way to emphasize the divine voice that
says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
“Listen to him!” This command
comes on the heels of crucial teachings from Jesus. "If any want to become my
followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow
me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose
their life for my sake will save it.”
Luke
clearly wants disciples to know that they have important lines about self-denial
and taking on burdens for others that could be avoided, about following Jesus in
the face of danger, even to their very lives. Luke hammers this point home when
Jesus says, “Those who are ashamed of me and my words, of them the Son of Man will
be ashamed when he comes in his glory.” Put another way, “These lines
are crucial. Don’t dare forget them.” But we do.
We
forget frequently enough that I sometimes grow disillusioned with faith and the
Church. Christians who spew hate and crave earthly power have clearly forgotten
their lines. So too have those who speak of heaven as an exclusive club
reserved for those with just the right beliefs. These sort of butchered lines
have played a big part in creating a general disillusionment with church and faith in our day. But it’s not just other
folks who’ve forgotten their lines. Our denomination, even our own congregation,
at times seems more concerned with budgets and buildings and survival than with
actually following Jesus. And that’s as much me as anyone, my own tendency to
get caught up in worries about money and possessions and personal comfort and success,
forgetting my lines, or perhaps just ignoring them.
But
a divine voice speaks from the cloud and calls me back, calls us back. “This
is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!”
“Listen to him!” As we prepare
to enter the season of Lent, I want to challenge you to do just that, to listen
in hopes of remembering our lines. Here’s a simple way to listen. Read a
gospel. Try Luke since that is the one we’re using in worship this year. Try
reading it at a single sitting. That’s how it was originally meant to be used,
and it’s less than 40 pages long. Consider reading it through once each week in
Lent as you listen for what Jesus is saying to you, as we let him tell us about
our role and work in the divine drama.
_____________________________________________________________________________
When
people make their profession of faith as they join a Presbyterian Church, this
question is asked. “Will you be Christ’s faithful disciple, obeying his Word
and showing his love?”
Lord,
help us to listen. Help us to remember who we are and whose we are. Help us to
remember our lines and live as your faithful children in the world.
[1] Colin
Campbell, “TRUMP: If I'm president, 'Christianity will have power' in the US.” Business Insider, http://www.businessinsider.com/donald-trump-christianity-merry-christmas-2016-1
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