A Fourth Church Sermon by John A. Cairns

January 23, 2000 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

Diminished Expectations

John A. Cairns
Dean, Academy for Faith and Life,
Fourth Presbyterian Church

Jonah 3:1–4:1
Luke 12:35–40

I was glad to see that one of the scriptures assigned to this particular Sunday was from the Book of Jonah. I like the Jonah story. I remember—as I suspect many of you do—learning about Jonah when I was in elementary school. I remember vividly picturing that whale (I know the Bible says it was “a large fish,” but for me it will always be a whale). And I especially remember pictures in storybooks and in my imagination of Jonah in the belly of that whale—just crawling around inside of a rib cage wondering what would happen next. And then “ta da!” he was belched out on to the beach, saw the error of his ways, re-packed his bags, and finally headed to Ninevah. What a great story—suspense, danger, rescue, and of course a moral: “Don’t mess with God!” Every 3rd grader went home that day vowing that if God ever asked us to go anywhere we’d go right away with no excuses—even though we all wondered if that belly-of-the-whale part might have been like a wild ride at Disney World.

So we learned our lesson and went home, but we never knew “the rest of the story.” You are not alone if the passage read a few minutes ago did not sound familiar. Many of us learned the only the first part of the drama—the condensed and abridged version of the Jonah saga. But as we heard today Jonah does go and preach to the people of Ninevah—that large, wicked, urban center that initially filled him with fear. He tells them in no uncertain terms that their ways are so offensive to God that they and their city are only 40 days away from total destruction.

We get the idea that Jonah delivered this message with full power and enthusiasm. He so detested Ninevah that he was already relishing its destruction. So he preaches his way through the city and then moves into the surrounding hills to wait for the arrival of God’s judgement.

What Jonah had not counted on was the effectiveness of his preaching. Something happened in Ninevah. People repented; from the king and his court to the lowliest peasant the city turned around—turned around dramatically; and on that basis God decided not to destroy Ninevah. The end of the story? No—there’s still more.

So the city is saved, but Jonah is furious. Ninevah was a hell-hole. It deserved destruction. How dare they repent! How dare God forgive them and not carry through on the plan!

“But wait,” we say. “Wasn’t that the whole point of Jonah’s trip—to bring the people to their senses; to help them see the error of their ways?” Not Exactly! Jonah, it seems, saw his job as painting the picture, not changing the picture. He failed to see how God could care about these “hordes of people lurking in urban sin and self-imposed separation from God. The big city was beyond hope, and the world would be a better place when God eradicated that city and wiped those sinners off the face of the earth (D. A. Farmer, Interpretation, Jan. 2000, p. 64).”

Jonah knew the plan going in.

Jonah could not have been more wrong. Things happened. The people responded and God changed direction. Is that so surprising? Maybe not when we are contemplating an ancient story, but what about when we ask the question in our own contemporary context? What happens when we stop talking about Ninevah and Jonah years ago, and begin thinking about Chicago and ourselves today?

What, for example, did we expect would happen this morning? When you awoke to the alarm; when you bundled up against the cold and trudged into this sanctuary this morning, what did you think would happen? Or did you even entertain such a thought? What would God be doing? Prior to worship each Sunday the pastors gather with the choir for prayer. We ask for God’s presence for ourselves and for the gathered congregation, and then we close with those strong and familiar words from the 19th Psalm: “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.” I like that. I want what I offer—my words—to be acceptable to God. I want—I hope—that the thoughts that are triggered by sermon or hymns or prayers or anthems will likewise be acceptable as we meditate upon them. But I wonder if that is enough—enough preparation, enough expectation, enough openness, enough possibility—with which to head into this time of worship . . . that it will all be “acceptable.”

As I thought about that I remembered the pre-worship prayer of a neighboring pastor when I was in New York. Each week he prayed: “Lord, may something happen here today that isn’t in the bulletin!” Not a very Presbyterian sentiment, is it? We call this the “Order of Worship” because we intend for our worship to be ordered and orderly. You may not be aware of this, but each time the pastors take their seats in the chancel they find four copies of the bulletin waiting for them so that we will never get lost or off track. This is what will happen in worship. We have carefully planned it and written it down.

Now I am all for doing things—including worship—decently and in order. That is after all the by-word phrase of the Presbyterians, and I have been a Presbyterian all my life. So when I proof read today’s bulletin on Thursday it was clear to me what would happen here this morning . . . dare I say, just as it was clear to Jonah what would happen when he went on his preaching mission to Ninevah. Now I have to wonder if I—any more than he—am prepared for—what God has in mind for this morning; open to what God may be initiating right here in our midst today.

“O Lord, may something happen here today that isn’t in the bulletin.” What would that be? Donald E. Miller who teaches religion at the University of Southern California has a thought. He says we need to shift our whole approach to worship. “Worship is not simply a matter of the head, affirming various creeds or acknowledging normative beliefs. Beliefs are important, especially when anchored in the retelling of biblical stories—but beliefs in themselves are sterile. Religion (needs to be) a full bodied experience (Christian Century, 12/22/99, p. 1252).”

Now I do not think Miller is suggesting that you should be vibrating in your seats at this moment or have tears streaming down your cheeks. But on the other hand coming to worship with the sole expectation that we might entertain a new thought is far too limiting.

Like Jonah we are in danger of forgetting that God could actually do something—something surprising; something not on our radar screen. This is not to say that we will require signs and wonders as the means by which we will authenticate our worship, but it is to strongly suggest that worship is about a conscious connection to the presence of God—a connection that can and does change us; a connection that involves senses and feelings as well as thoughts and ideas.

One commentator on the contemporary American church sees us struggling with a “hopefulness deficit.” He suggests that the prevailing attitude is that things are as they are, and by means of weekly worship we will gain the strength to cope with them. How close is that to where you are this morning? Is there any room in your Sunday worship formula for change in that world? In you?

In a moment of quiet conversation Jesus tells his disciples, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for the master to return from the wedding banquet so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks (Luke 12: 36–36).” That’s a very different model—a very different picture—from the one we would probably use to describe ourselves in this sanctuary this morning. Some of us are just glad we made it approximately on time and are hoping that our socks match or our labels are all tucked in!—and here is Jesus talking about being ready for action . . . just waiting for the knock on the door.

Friends, we have a God who acts—who acts in unexpected ways at unpredictable moments. We have a surprising God who sometimes—as Jesus goes on to say—comes like a thief in the night. So, stay awake—not bad advice for a Sunday morning congregation!

Watchfulness—expectancy—openness—readiness are what is required of us, particularly when we come together in worship. This is a full-bodied experience. God moves in the midst of us in many ways. We need to reach deep within ourselves and our traditions to rediscover a way to worship that anticipates more than a word from the preacher . . . that prays and hopes that something will happen here this morning that isn’t in the bulletin!

May it ever be so. Amen.