Potter's House (Part 4)

Sermon: Shake It Off
(Luke 10:1-12)

In a statement that reminded me of the message at Resurrection nearly two months ago, Bishop Jakes explained that Jesus moved in masses of people throughout the gospels.  He fed 5,000 by the Sea of Galilee.  He had an inner circle of three disciples who went with him places that the other nine couldn’t, and of course, he had those famous twelve disciples who accompanied Christ during his whole earthly ministry and got to know him and learn from him.  Bishop Jakes explained that, when he was younger and a holy man came to visit his church, people would fight over who got to serve him and sit with him and learn from him, but this trend has been abandoned in recent years, and younger pastors often “put on wisdom” in order to preach every Sunday morning.  This is not the way things should be.  Wisdom is not something you can simply put on; it must exude from your very pores.  Wisdom is about how you react to things.  The real power in our world is shown in response to accidents and incidents, not in causing them.  Similarly, in this passage, Jesus has set aside 70 people for a very specific mission.

(I should also note right up front that, in moving through this passage about the sending of the 70, Bishop Jakes hit a lot of points that were weirdly significant to me personally.  He made me think quite a bit about the role of a pastor and my own experiences on this journey, and even though he’s never met me, I sort of considered his words to be part of my own commissioning.  There were thousands of people in that room, but it felt like he was talking specifically to me on several occasions.)

The 70 are going out as Christ’s forerunners.  The mission isn’t really about them.  It’s about preparing the way for Jesus and his message, helping to make hearts along the way more fertile in order to receive Christ.  These men were just fertilizing the soil, and isn’t that how missions tend to work?  One plants, another waters, and all along the way, God increases.  For this reason, we can’t evaluate the worth of our ministries just by others’ reactions; we may just be helping to fertilize the soil a bit, and it’s not really about us anyway.  These men didn’t send themselves; they were given a mission by Jesus.  Bishop Jakes gave an example from his own life: Whenever he travels, he invariably encounters someone in an airport who will point and say excitedly, “That’s Bishop Jakes; he saved me!” to which Bishop Jakes invariably replies, “I most certainly did not.  I myself was called to be saved by Christ, and it is Christ who called you to be saved as well.”

Of course, this topic allowed Bishop Jakes to address another concern that had been building in his mind the more he spoke with converts to Christianity: We are not saved because of our sins; we are saved because God has a purpose in saving us.  After all, our experiences are limited, and there are plenty of worse sinners out there than us, but God chose us specifically and calls us to a mission and uses our experiences for God’s purposes.  After all, Romans 8:28 tells us that all things work for the glory of God, and all are called according to His purpose.  (Oh hi there, Romans 8, good to see you again.)  The mention of this verse provoked a response of “His purpose!” from the congregation.

Bishop Jakes explained that our various histories make us useful to God in different ways, and God works on us throughout our lives by whittling and shaping us to fit into His larger purpose.  (Wow, Erin totally used that exact same phrasing like three days ago.  Weird.)  Even when we question why things happen to us or why we are the way we are, God can look at us and say, “I made you the way I made you!”  Take Moses for example.  When Moses was called, he protested because he had such a violent st-st-st-stutter (and yes, Bishop Jakes did imitate the stutter and would do so several more times in the service).  Still, God was able to look at Moses and say, “Did I not make your mouth?  My strength is made perfect through weakness!”  As if on cue, my hand cramped, and my stomach grumbled with hunger.  How’s that for weakness?

Bishop Jakes continued by reminding us that God chose us, not the other way around.  God pulled us out of our everyday business-as-usual according to His purpose, not ours.  You are sent on a mission; it’s not all about you.  God predestined us for this, and though it was kind of a crude illustration, Bishop Jakes told us to think about how many sperm we were racing against, and God selected us out of millions to impregnate an egg and form a child!  God has a plan, so touch someone near you and tell them, “He sent me.”  (I received an elbow to the side from the woman next to me, who grumbled, “He sent me.”  I have no doubt that He did, but ouch anyway.)  God sent us in spite of weakness and mistakes, and this comment got amens from the congregation.

This image came to mind every time Bishop Jakes referenced the Devil.

Getting back to the passage, Bishop Jakes explained that the 70 are not sent off solo; they are paired and sent off two by two.  Of course, even though this is done to strengthen and edify them, the Devil works to corrupt relationships by convincing the people in them that they are “unequally yoked.”

Whoa.

Okay, setting aside the obvious connection of yokes to the incredibly powerful sermon I heard the previous Sunday night from Scott Erickson at Ecclesia, I need to explain that the phrase “unequally yoked” has an incredibly deep and personal significance to me.

As I’ve explained a couple of times before, back in college, I sort of thought that I was heading toward marrying my long-time girlfriend at the time (who was preparing to enter medical school and, though she respected religion and bore no animosity toward it, did not claim any faith tradition herself).  Well, when I sort of rediscovered my call to ministry during our senior year and officially abandoned the whole law school thing, it led to some unease between us.  One day that spring, I was talking to a friend and advisor who told me pointblank and out of the blue that I was going to have to end the relationship eventually as we were “unequally yoked”-- two strong individuals who were marching in different directions professionally, geographically, and spiritually and would ultimately find ourselves unable to communicate the struggles of our vocations to one another or support one another.  I was angry with that advisor for a while and pushed that conversation as far out of my mind as I could for as long as I could, but I ultimately had to accept that he was right.  Hearing the phrase again in T.D. Jakes’s sermon, I thought back to that conversation and meditated for just a split second on the “unequally yoked” concept.  Having been in div school for two years, having given those wounds time to heal, and now being in a relationship with someone who is headed in my same direction, I think I get it now.  The words still made me wince a bit (and will likely continue to make me wince in the future), but I guess that’s another example of the whittling and shaping about which both Erin and Bishop Jakes had already spoken.  I snapped back to reality to find Bishop Jakes still elaborating on this one concept . . .

The Enemy (artist's rendering)

Fights with a partner are one of the easiest ways to get distracted from your shared mission.  We all get caught up trying to win battles that we weren’t even really sent to fight when we should be trying to get the job done together instead.  We must keep in mind that we’re working for the same purpose, and that a victory is not marked by one person winning, but by both people continuing to work together in a spirit of love and charity and cooperation, and sometimes that means you just have to suck it up and go with what the other person says!  We shouldn’t be wasting our time on fighting anyone but the Enemy!  The 70 must constantly check themselves on what is and is not important, and some of the shortcomings we see in ourselves really don’t matter to God.  Bishop Jakes encouraged us to repeat the refrain “It doesn’t matter” as he spoke.  He imitated Moses’s stutter again.

It doesn’t matter.

He talked about how, as he has grown older, he’s realized that more and more things that he once found important really belong in the column of things that don’t matter.  He listed a few, and each time, the congregation responded.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

Dripping with sweat, Bishop Jakes produced a red handkerchief that he continually used to dab his forehead and cheeks as he continued to boom from the platform.  He explained that our homework was to reexamine the things that we thought essential and consider carefully which ones we might move over to the “It doesn’t matter” list.  After all, real maturity is about identifying more and more of these factors.  Real maturity is about not getting distracted from one’s true purpose.  From here, Bishop Jakes came up with an example that caught me a bit off guard, but when I thought about it, it made total sense:

If you want to get technical, Saul was more moral than David.  Saul might have even been the better and more politically savvy king really, but God chose to work through David.  Why?  Well, the Bible calls David a “man after God’s own heart,” meaning that David sought God above all else and was open and sensitive to where God might be leading him.  David also made his fair share of mistakes, but, as David’s story demonstrates, we can’t dwell on our mistakes and must remember that we are called to greater things.  We also can’t allow others to hold our mistakes over our heads since that is a matter between the individual and God.  “Don’t let folks get in God’s business!” Bishop Jakes informed us, “If God only used good people, then God wouldn’t use anybody!”  As David and Saul demonstrate, righteousness isn’t much use without sensitivity to the mission; at that point, it just becomes self-righteousness.  So don’t fight with yourself.  You can’t change what’s already behind you.  When you hear folks talking about you, just say to yourself, “Let ‘em talk!” and move their remarks over to the it-doesn’t-matter list.  They’re not your mission, and if they get in your way, God will find a way to clear a path for you.  Bishop Jakes shouted, “To God be the Glory!” and from here, he entered into a preaching cadence that was difficult to discern at times, and I wondered if the speakers were on the fritz or if I wasn’t hearing him right over the crowd or if maybe he had gotten carried away with the emotion of the service and was dipping into a private language of some kind. 

Bishop Jakes moved into one of his most developed metaphors from here: sheep sent out among wolves.  He made it clear that this is a call to be vulnerable.  “God doesn’t make us comfortable, only vulnerable,” he explained referencing Moses’s st-st-stutter once again.  Also, as anyone who has worked with them can tell you, sheep are pretty dumb, and with those little teeth, they’re not the most capable when it comes to self-defense.  Wolves, on the other hand, are vicious and conniving hunters, so God is pretty much saying that He’s going to put us among people who want to eat us.  Still, just because God is placing us there, that doesn’t mean that we are the ones who will fight the wolves.  With their teeth and claws and physical strength and predatory cunning, we would be hopelessly outmatched against them.  (At this point, Bishop Jakes uttered a vicious growl that produced laughter among the congregation.)  God sent us, so when the wolves chase us, we need to trust in God to protect and preserve.  We can’t fear the wolves.  We can’t get distracted in trying to fight them ourselves.  After all, we lack teeth.  Instead, we have to focus on the call, and when wolves come along, we must look to the Lord who is our Shepherd.  The battle belongs to the Lord, and that means that we get to tell the wolves, “Hey, check out that big guy with the stick!”  We are not our own shepherds.  God shepherds and protects us.  Our call is to maintain our focus!

Not to keep chasing rabbits, but this reminded me of another frequent refrain in my life: sheep, shepherd, and sheepdog.  I have a huge issue with people describing pastors as “shepherds,” and I cringe every time someone references “Rev. So-and-So’s flock.”  It’s my opinion that, aside from literal herders of sheep, Jesus is really the only person to whom we should be ascribing the title of Shepherd.  A shepherd is the one who decides on the flock’s destination and guides the flock and protects the flock.  Pastors answer to the same Shepherd as everyone else and chase after that Shepherd and rely on His guidance too.  We’re not really shepherds ourselves, but we’re also not quite the same as sheep, so what exactly are we?  Back in the summer of 2006, I spent one week working at Heifer Ranch in Perryville, Arkansas, before realizing that A) I am not nearly as liberal as I thought I was, and B) farm living really is not for me.  Even though I got out of there ASAP, I acquired several very useful lessons during that brief time.  I learned how to make cheese; I developed a grudge against goats that I hold to this day; and I discovered that a black widow’s web is capable of catching a #2 pencil thrown at high speeds by an 18-year-old.  One of the more interesting experiences I had there was with a creature who very well might have been my spirit guide: a mangy old sheepdog who followed me around most everywhere.  I never learned his name or gave him a new one, but he was a fairly constant companion and really the only individual there with whom I felt a strong connection.  When musing on the role of a pastor years later, I thought back to that dog.

From a distance, pastors are indistinguishable from the rest of the flock, but many are a little wiser thanks to life experience, biblical study, and having scratched at a few more fleas than the average sheep.  A sheepdog is slightly more adept at fending off predators and protecting a flock, even though that responsibility is ultimately fulfilled by the Shepherd.  Additionally, it often falls to the sheepdog to bark at the sheep and keep them in line as we all move in the direction the Shepherd has picked out for us, and that can sometimes be a thankless job, but I think it’s worthwhile.  So yeah, I’m in agreement with everything Bishop Jakes was saying about sheep and wolves, but I want to add that I see pastors as being like sheepdogs-- the mangy, ornery members of the flock helping to defend it and keep it from wandering too far away from the Shepherd.  We’re no more aware of the long-term destination than the sheep, and we’re no more evolved intellectually, but we do have a slightly modified skillset for helping to address problems in the community (i.e. a bigger bark and sharper teeth).  I’m getting off-topic though.  Back to the sermon . . .

Bishop Jakes explained to us that the sheep-and-wolves passage is meant to tell us that we will be uncomfortable as we pursue God’s call, but we have to keep moving.  We have to learn to be effective in our discomfort.  God’s mission is not our comfort; God calls us into danger, discomfort, lack of support, and wolves on all sides.  Bishop Jakes encouraged us not to dwell on resources and money and reminded us that we’re not called to stuff and not called to capitalism (which I found interesting given his CEO/entrepreneur background-- seemed to make him very qualified to speak on the subject).  We must focus on God and not merely on providing for ourselves.  God has figured it out and will take care of the traffic in our lives.  After all, God has ordered the entire universe, so surely our lives are within God’s control.  (I thought back to God’s words in Job 38 and the subsequent chapters: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?”)  Stay focused, and the little blessings --and some big ones too-- will fall into line as we push on toward God and the mission to which we are called.  Our needs will be met (even if not in the most comfortable fashion).  We’ll encounter miracles.  We’ll also encounter widows and orphans set aside for us to work with and aid.  These are all treasures that have been set aside for you.  A really radical faith is one that says, “It’s already done!”  (This phrase was repeated enthusiastically by the congregation, and I found myself smiling at this reversal of prosperity gospel: the people we work with and aid are the blessing-- I really like that spirit.)

Bishop Jakes used an example from his own life and talked about how, when he first moved to Dallas, people told him, “You’re creative and have the expertise.  It’d probably be cheaper if you built your own house!”  Of course, building a house takes time and resources and planning, and you have to work with zoning laws and all sorts of restrictions and builders and various city personnel, and all of this becomes a distraction for people on a mission.  Focus on the mission; let someone else build the house; you just move into it.  After all, the planting has already been done by others, and now it falls to us to reap the harvest!

Bishop Jakes gave big sweep of his arms as if swinging a scythe.  He had been pacing around for nearly 45 minutes and had not looked at a single notecard since walking on stage.  We were roughly halfway through his message.  “Don’t waste time with a shovel!  Just reap that thing!  Reap that thing!  Reap that thing!”  As he repeated that line over and over again, he was greeted with an excited response from the congregation.  There was shouting and moving in the aisles, and I even heard a loud shriek over my shoulder as one woman felt the spiritual significance of Bishop Jakes’s comment.  Also, someone in the balcony was shaking a tambourine wildly whenever a more enthusiastic point was delivered.  “REAP THAT THING!”  The bass drum and the organ kicked in as Bishop Jakes flew into a litany: “Praise God for the harvest!  Praise God for the house!  Praise God for the covenant!  Praise God for the open door!” all of this greeted with shouts of joy and praise from the congregation.

Bishop Jakes brought us back in though and, citing Psalm 126, he informed us that crying and tears are meant for the sowers, but we reap with joy!  (Hey, that’s the title of my mom’s book.  A lot of weird personal significance in this sermon.)  The Devil tries to make us cry and mourn at the wrong times, but we need to have a reaping spirit.  We need to stop quitting and losing our joy; it’s reaping time!  “Reap it!  It’s ready!  Reap it!  It’s ready!  Reap it!  It’s ready!”  This repetition was greeted with tremendous shouts of “Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” from the congregation.  “We have survived the wolves!  We have sowed!  We have cried!  Now it’s reaping time!  Turn and say to a brother or sister, ‘THIS IS MY REAPING STAGE!’”  We complied with the instruction, and again I felt a hard, sharp elbow in my side from the woman next to me.  Oh how I wished the Spirit would move me to jab that woman back, but I just rubbed my side and continued to worship instead.  We were all standing and clapping as Bishop Jakes told us, “He’s hit me with a Word this morning!” a comment that was greeted with hallelujahs.  He told us that someone in the room today was going to step into a prepared blessing.  Someone in the room is going to step into a prepared miracle.  “SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN!  IT’S READY!”

This all took place just a week before the ordination.  Random thought.

The ushers were walking around with boxes of tissues for the worshipers.  People were up and moving around the sanctuary, and Bishop Jakes urged us to “jump up and holler ‘I’m on a mission!’”  “I’M ON A MISSION!”  He encouraged us to move from distraction and follow the mission.  After all, we didn’t create ourselves.  We’re on assignment, and we have to trust in God to provide for us along the way.  (As Elwood Blues once put it, “We’re on a mission from God.”)  I was beginning to understand that, for Bishop T.D. Jakes and the Potter’s House, blessing really wasn’t about money.  It was more like the blessing given to Jacob in the book of Genesis: a signifier that God is with us and has tasked us with a special purpose in life.  No matter what backward cultural connotations we might ascribe to it (money, power, good fortune, etc.), a blessing is really a calling.  It’s not about God putting something in our wallets; it’s about God putting something in our hearts and on our minds.  It’s about having a full plate in the metaphorical sense, not the literal.

A typical non-receptive House.

We had been substantially pumped up, so it was time to move into the meat of the text from that morning: knowing which house is the right house.  Bishop Jakes informed us that this passage gives us a test for the houses we encounter on the journey.  We have to be sensitive to the Spirit as we go into these houses (since, after all, we can’t just stand outside and look-- it’s like a new suit; you need to go in and try it on).  The 5,000 who appear earlier in the gospel needed direction; these 70 need discernment.  After all, some houses are not receptive.  Some houses are not for us.  We shouldn’t be depressed if we get rejected by such a house though; it just wasn’t the one God had in mind for us.  We shouldn’t waste our energy getting upset or disappointed; we should just move on.