This Sunday, I’m supposed to preach a sermon on Isaiah 41, a gorgeous text inviting Israel to come to God, not in fear but in trust and hope. It’s a powerful text, and in many ways an easy one to preach. But it’s got me to thinking about a couple of things.
First, notice what the text says: “I the Lord am your God, who grasped your right hand, who says to you, ‘Do not be afraid; I will help you’.” This is a text about the mercy of God.
This leads to a broad observation: the key to Christian theology is the confession that God has mercy on the world — on all of us collectively, and on each of us individually. God knows we need mercy, as anyone can recognize. Our history weirdly mixes together tragedy and irony, salted with just enough comedy to make it all bearable.
Christians always struggle with a tragic view of life because we know too well the power of sin. We suffer under no illusions, so much so that our honesty often gets us killed (hence Christianity’s history as a community of martyrs). But in our struggle we must never allow the tragic sense to overwhelm us. Because we, in the final analysis, do not believe that the world is a place of tragedy. Because God is merciful, hope is possible.
Then my second thought, also a bit random. In preparing to preach I always listen to music. Channeling my inner nerd, I think that means classical music for me. And this time it meant Bach’s “B Minor Mass,” which opens with about 10 minutes (10 minutes!) on the two Greek words “Kyrie eleison” (“Lord, have mercy”). On and on it goes. Why? Undoubtedly our ancestors had longer attention spans than we do (which wouldn’t be hard). But more importantly they knew they needed God’s mercy, and that they would get it because of who God is, and that as recipients of mercy, they should properly worship God.
So, to tie these thoughts together, I think a focus on God’s mercy on us would get us out of the phony worship discussions some of us seem stuck in, in which we must choose between legalism and entertainment/personal fulfillment as frames of reference. What if we thought of worship as the assembly of those in need of mercy and grace? What if we joined those who cry out to God in doing so? Would that make a difference?
I’ll let you know how the sermon went (unless it’s a disaster). But let me know how the reframing of worship as the search of mercy might make a difference in your context. I’d like to hear from you.
Dr. Mark W. Hamilton
Associate Professor of Old Testament and
Associate Dean
ACU Graduate School of Theology
Abilene, TX 79699
Editor, The Transforming Word
Great thoughts! This reminds me of a skit I saw when I was in undergrad. The punch line was, “Church is not a hotel for saints, it’s a hospital for sinners.” Many of us need to do a better job of viewing church as a place of mercy and healing from God.
Mitch, thanks for the note. I hope you’re well. Let us hear from you!
“This leads to a broad observation: the key to Christian theology is the confession that God has mercy on the world — on all of us collectively, and on each of us individually.”
I have been thinking a lot recently about how individual American Christianity is. I see it all the time working in youth ministry. So much of our language speaks to our preoccupation with self, and it runs rampant in our churches. I think it’s important for us to remember that we are seeking mercy collectively. Also, we are seeking for mercy not just for those who happen to make their way to our services, but also for those who exist in our larger communities. I shouldn’t just be seeking mercy for me, but for all.
Thanks, Zac. I think you’re on the right track.
Mar
Zac, I think that is right. And often, we are first taught something of a theology of worship by our youth minister(s). Something we ought to take seriously.
Thanks for your work!