God's Radical Vision for Life!

The song no one could silence A story about what it means to be truly free 8 min read There's a story I keep coming back to. I've told it a few times now, but it won't let me go. A man in a prisoner of war camp walks out into the exercise yard one day. The other prisoners are milling around in groups. He takes his guitar, sits down, and begins to strum. He sings — something pure and sweet and beautiful, filled with peace and hope. The prisoners gather around. They sway. They hum. For a moment, they escape. They're not in the camp anymore. They're wherever this man is, in whatever freedom he knows. The guards tense up. Word comes down: stop this. They drag the man out and beat him. They break his fingers, his hands. That'll finish it. The next day, he's back. Broken fingers, bruised body, guitar in hand. He starts to strum and sing again — that same pure, sweet voice. The prisoners gather. They sway. They hum. They're transported again into that place of freedom and life. The guards are told to end it properly. They take him out, smash his guitar, cut his tongue out. They leave him beaten in his cell. The next day, the man comes out again. Body bruised and broken, hands useless, no tongue, no guitar. He begins to sway. He hums the tune he hears in his head. Then he dances. The other prisoners gather around. They sway. They dance. The whole group is caught up in this song he can hear, that they can now hear and feel in themselves. Again, they're transported — into peace, into freedom, into life outside the prison. The guards are told to end it. They beat him mercilessly. They break his legs. They leave him a bloodied, beaten bundle in the middle of his cell, helpless and hopeless. The next day, friends carry him out — this disfigured, beaten, bruised body — and lay him gently down in the middle of the exercise yard. He moves his head in time to the song. That pure, gentle song. He closes his eyes. There's a peaceful look on his face as he sways to the music. The prisoners gather around. They sway with him. They do the dance. In him, out of him, is this song. They feel it. And there's nothing the guards can do to stop it. This man knew peace. When someone knows peace and freedom deeply within, nothing can contain them. No cell, no violence, no beating. Nothing can take that freedom, that peace, that life away. This is what Jesus invites us into. Jesus speaks of the way of peace, of life, of freedom, of justice, of hope, of love, and the flourishing of all people. Nowhere is this clearer than at the beginning of Matthew's story, where Matthew portrays Jesus as this new and greater Moses. The connections are everywhere. A Joseph who hears God speak in dreams. And then Jesus goes up a mountain, just as Moses did after he led the Hebrew people out of Egypt, out of slavery. Moses went up Mount Sinai and received the commandments, the law — what it means to be the people of God. Jesus goes up the mountain and delivers the Sermon on the Mount. Right at the start of that sermon are the Beatitudes. Eight little statements about what blessing is. We live in a world that puts so much emphasis on accumulation and wealth, power and status. Having more. Having better. The more we've got — the more luxury, the more experiences, the more things we can do and accumulate — the more blessed we believe we are, or we're told we are. Jesus reverses this. Blessed are the poor in spirit Those who know they are not whole and full within themselves. Who can't make it alone but need others and ultimately need the grace of God. Who are poor in spirit and reach out to the one who can bring life to them. Blessed are those who mourn Those who hold not just their own pain and anguish, but that of those around them and the world. Scott Peck, the psychiatrist who wrote The Road Less Traveled, speaks of the healthiness of some depression. He says some people are so gentle and so deeply connected with life and people that they feel the pain and suffering of others and the world, and they hold it within them. We have people in the church who pray in that way, who hold the pain of others, the struggles of others, in prayer. Blessed are the meek Those who are humble. Who recognise their limitations and their need for others and their sharing of life with one another. This stands over and against the narcissistic megalomaniacs and dictators who run much of our world and have no self-awareness but are so self-centred. The Trumps and Putins of this world. Blessed are the pure in heart Those who seek what is good and right and true and deep and gentle and beautiful. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness For justice. Who work for it. Who advocate and live and strive for a just and fair world, but do it in a way that's not violent in rhetoric or physical violence. People like Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi and many others who stand up for what is right. And when they do, the powers of the world retaliate. As they did with Martin Luther King. With Gandhi. With Jesus. Blessed are the peacemakers Those who make peace. Who put themselves into the place of conflict and tension and make peace through reconciliation and forgiveness and conversation and relationship. Blessed are the merciful Those who reach out with mercy to others. Who look at the other — who is different — not in fear or judgment, but reach out in mercy and love. Blessed are those who are persecuted Because they do live in this way of Jesus. Blessed are those who are persecuted for doing the right thing, as Jesus himself was. When we live in this way, there is flourishing. There is flourishing amongst the little ones, the impoverished, the poor, the sick, the struggling, the outcasts — most of us who are yearning for something more and long for peace. And when we all flourish like that, those who are in control, those who have power, those who have might, those who control things and benefit from that control — they lose some of their control. And they fight back. They won't allow love and justice and peace to reign because it weakens their power. We're invited into this way of life that is truly blessed. It means some sense of letting go. Letting go of our need to be in control. To be humble. Poor in spirit. Reaching out in love for those who need help. Those who mourn. Those who are merciful. Those who are peacemakers. Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness and justice. The pure in heart. When we reach out in these ways, we will find our life enriched, as will others. We'll find ourselves as part of a community of love and grace. One of the great Old Testament prophets asks, "What does the Lord require? What ultimately does God want of me?" But to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God. This is the way of life. It's countercultural. It's radical. It takes courage. But it's the way of life for our world. It will bring hope and peace to people and to the very earth itself. This is the way of Jesus. Amen. Based on a sermon by [speaker name unknown]