The 108-Foot Shepherd -- FPC sermon excerpt

Normally, we think of Jesus as a kind and loving shepherd who cuddles his sheep. He is meek and mild, compassionate and caring.

But what’s happening in Poland might change your mind.

On a rocky hill in that country is the newest, most audacious religious icon in all of Europe, if not the world: A 108-foot-high statue of Jesus. That’s the height of a 10-story building. According to The Guardian (April 5, 2011), volunteers from the town, along with prisoners on day release from the local jail, have been building it for the last 10 years.

On a windy day last spring, a crane gently swayed as work continued on the concrete figure, the brainchild of a local priest. He claims it is the world’s biggest statue of Jesus Christ — bigger even than Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro. This is a sore point with the Brazilians who grumble that the Polish Jesus is cheating — cheating by standing on a mound.

The priest drives a Mercedes with rosary beads hanging from the rear view mirror. When asked why he decided to erect the gargantuan savior, he said, “It was Jesus’ idea: I was just the builder.”

But not everyone agrees that the statue is divine. It is rumored to have cost nearly $3 million, and one Polish resident says, “I think we could spend that money far better. We need schools, we need hospitals, we need better roads.”

What do you think? Should they build a statue or a school? While a 108-foot shepherd may not be the best use for $3 million, it does remind us that Jesus is a big shepherd, one who stands tall over us and dominates our lives. Like an enormous concrete icon, he simply cannot be ignored.

Christ the King Sunday is the day each year that we focus on the rule of Jesus over all of human life, including our own lives. In today’s Scripture lesson, from the book of the prophet Ezekiel, we learn that God rules over us as a powerful shepherd, one who judges and separates his flock, showing a special concern for the weak and the vulnerable. He promises to set up over them one shepherd, his servant David, the king who turns out to be the ancestor of Jesus the Christ.

So what is the character of this big and powerful shepherd? Ezekiel says that he is not afraid to throw his weight around. “I will seek the lost,” says God, “and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice” (Ezekiel 34:16).

God actively seeks out the lost, brings back the strayed, heals the injured, and strengthens the weak. This means that when we lose our way and begin to behave in selfish or hurtful ways, God seeks us out and confronts us with our sinfulness — we get the wake-up calls that we need. It means that we are never abandoned and left alone in our self-destructive behavior, but are given assistance in turning ourselves around. It means that God forgives our sins, heals our painful memories, restores our minds and bodies to health, and strengthens us for the challenges of the day.

Our Lord is not a small and passive shepherd. Instead, he’s big and he’s active, constantly watching out for the welfare of his sheep.

Servant Eyes -- FPC sermon excerpt

Snake eyes.

That’s what you see when you roll a pair of dice and get two ones. It’s a loser in many games, and often associated with bad luck.

Our ancestors had snake eyes.

But for them, it was really quite lucky.

Over time, our ancient relatives developed eyes that enabled them to detect and avoid their most dangerous predator: The snake. This characteristic allowed them to survive, thrive, and develop into full-fledged human beings.

Genesis has it right, says anthropologist Lynee Isbell: “The snake made us human.”

Just picture an ancient primate, unable to see and identify objects that are close by and in front of her. A poisonous snake is near enough to bite her, so it does — killing her and ending her ability to reproduce. A few yards away is another primate, one whose eyes are slightly better and able to spot the deadly serpent and avoid it. The second primate goes on to be fruitful and multiply, passing her genes through a succession of generations that stretch to the present day.

This is evolutionary biology at its simplest and most profound. Not some kind of dog-eat-dog survival of the fittest, but instead survival of those who have characteristics that enable them to thrive and reproduce. Many of you know that I was a biology major in college — I love this stuff!

Anthropologist Isbell makes this argument in her book The Fruit, the Tree and the Serpent: Why We See So Well. She is convinced that our distant primate relatives developed an exceptional ability to see and identify objects that were close by and in front of them. Those who had this ability were able to avoid snakebites — a very real threat to human life, one that still kills 150,000 people a year.

A church member recently told me a joke about snakes. Two snakes are slithering along together, and one asks, “Are we poisonous?”

“Yes,” says the other. “Why do you ask?”

“I just bit my lip.”

But this particular strand of development did not end with better vision for humans. Our ancient experience with snakes caused us to fear them, creating a deep-seated emotion that pops up in the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and the Rainbow Serpent of Australian myth. The Book of Revelation, which we immersed ourselves in through much of September and October, speaks of “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (12:9).

In addition, snake-spotting shaped the evolutionary path of primate brains, leading to the development of language. Isbell argues that once our ancestors were able to spot serpents, they began to point to them in an effort to communicate the danger to others. This pointing was a critical step in the development of language, which transmitted information that served the good of the community.

Our human development continues today, not by looking down at serpents but by looking up to God. “To you I lift up my eyes, O you who are enthroned in the heavens!” says Psalm 123. “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master ... our eyes look to the LORD our God” (vv. 1-2).

We should give our ancestors credit: They developed snake eyes — eyes that enabled them to spot deadly serpents and point them out to others. But the question for us today is this: Have we developed servant eyes? Eyes that can follow the hand of the master, look to the Lord and discern God’s ways?

Future human evolution will challenge us to get our eyes off the ground, and focused on God. Our visual acuity must continue to develop, in the area of spiritual sight.