MAILING LIST 
The Beauty of the Benediction
Michael DeVries
Sermon
Eastern Avenue Christian Reformed Church
October 30, 2005
Editor's Note, Dec. 2005: This was the final sermon of Rev. DeVries as interim pastor of Eastern Avenue Church. His words, and God's blessing, come to us with special resonance as we prepare to enter a new year. They also have particular poignance as Rev. DeVries mourns the loss of his wife Marianne, who passed away in the weeks since this sermon was given. We pray for God's hand to rest firmly on the shoulder of Rev. DeVries during these weeks and in the year ahead.
| • Audio of this sermon (21 MB) | 23:09 |
Text
Pondering what to preach about this morning, I could think of no better passage than God's gift for you expressed in Numbers 6 verse 22 through 27:
The Lord spoke to Moses saying, “Speak to Aaron and his son, saying, ‘Thus you shall bless the Israelites.' And you shall say to them,‘The Lord bless you and keep you.
The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.'
So they shall put my name on the Israelites and I will bless them.”
This is the word of the Lord.
(People: Thanks be to God.)
Dear People of God,
Everyone here present this morning has heard about that famous missionary, doctor, physician, philosopher, theologian, Albert Schweitzer, who in our previous century worked for at least 50 years untiringly in Africa. I recall reading about Albert Schweitzer's early years in Gunsbach, Germany. Albert was a very, very sensitive young boy. His father, Louis, was the preacher in the Protestant church in a small village, and he writes in his memoir that he loved going to church. And remarkably enough he says what he liked most was his dad's benediction at the end of the service.
When I first read that I thought, Sure—happy the service was over. But no, I said he was a sensitive boy, and every Sunday, he writes, when his dad Louis raised both hands and gave the famous words of our text, little Albert felt loved. Even deeper, he says, “Not only did I feel my dad's love for me that was beautiful, but through my dad and that beautiful benediction, I really felt the love of God.” And if you know the rest of his life and ministry, he said he often remembered that beautiful benediction, being blessed by God.
Now I don't know if it has struck you, but it has struck me that in many of our contemporary churches—have you noticed the benediction is gone? More and more churches today are sort of dismissing everyone at the end of the service with a little camaraderie kind of statement — “See you next week.”
How do you feel about that? You know when changes are made in liturgy, I am more and more convinced there is a lot of theology behind it. I've not seen many articles about this whole issue, but I kept asking myself, now why is it? Why do we need this benediction to be gone? I don't know the answer.
One of them might be—I'm only raising it for you to ponder—perhaps many ministers are saying, at least by the absence of the benediction, this is passe. These words from Numbers 6 are antiquated, no longer resonate with 21st-century postmodern man. Really? Maybe by their silence they are saying this benediction is nothing more than mumbo-jumbo. Really?
Perhaps another answer could be as follows. These people we don't know, maybe they are not worthy of God's benediction in their lives. And so the pastor withholds God's blessing for them. Could that be? What about the third possibility, that many modern preachers no longer really believe in God's divine providence and presence in our daily walk from Monday through Saturday? And maybe lastly as another possibility—I'm only asking—maybe modern preachers today no longer want to shoulder the shepherd's role.
You have noticed, as I have, that in many churches, ministers no longer want to really be called pastors. They pride themselves as being managers, CEOs, running the ship, guiding the staff, but don't call me on Monday morning to sit at the bedside for ministry and pastoral care. Could it be that when ministers withhold the benediction, they are really not shouldering the shepherd's role to which God has called pastors in the past and pastors in the present? I want to raise these questions because I see a trend. It's creeping into our Christian Reformed churches too. On many an occasion, services end without a benediction.
The benediction provides the churchgoer a first-hand experience of God's hand on your shoulder as you venture forth into the community and into society and into your daily tasks, being blessed as you exit. It's truly a pastoral gift to worshipers. |
Now I would like to suggest to you this morning, as my final message to you as interim pastor, that in our week-to-week rhythm of worship, let there be at its conclusion a pastoral benediction. After all, it provides you the churchgoer a first-hand experience of God's hand on your shoulder as you venture forth into the community and into society and into your daily tasks, being blessed as you exit. It's truly a pastoral gift to worshipers. And when we leave the sanctuary to enter that cold, competitive world where dog eats dog, in that world from Monday to Saturday, you in your life and I in mine, we need the assurance that God is, and God is present in our lives. Not deistically absent, far away, but present with us in our journey, clasping your hand and mine.
Now this benediction has a long, long history and it's important for churches. We are part of that historic, universal catholic church of our Lord Jesus Christ. Too often we think of ourselves today individualistically, independently, we are on our own—no concern about the past, as if all that rich history is suddenly irrelevant.
The benediction's long history goes all the way back to Numbers 6, when Moses said, “In the name of God: Aaron, and all of you who are priests in the future, bless my people. Bless them.” It was an exhilarating experience for God's people when they ended their worship at the temple that the priest would come forward, lift up his hands, and bless them as they journeyed onward. It was uplifting. It was heartening. It was strengthening. And that blessing, when restored to the prominence it deserves in present-day worship, can be an exhilarating experience for worshipers—to leave worship by hearing God. Worship is about God.
What more beautiful way than to hear God say, “Now before you leave, a little reminder. God has a gift for you to live by and even to die by.”
This is a stupendous blessing, three times over: the Lord bless you, the Lord be gracious to you, the Lord turn His face towards you. That English word “Lord” is a translation in our Bibles for the Hebrew word Yahweh. You recall Moses at the burning bush receiving God's disclosure. “Who are you, God?” And God said, “I am Yahweh. I am who I am. I will be present with you wherever you are and wherever you go.”
Yahweh spells deliverance. “I am the Lord your God who led you out of Egypt, out of bondage, out of sin, into new life, redemption, renewal, deliverance.”
Yahweh is a covenant name. “I am your God, and you are my people.” Every baptism service, that beautiful reminder: “Infants, you can't talk now, let me talk to you. I am your God.”
And lastly, in Yahweh I hear presence. Moses was assured, “Go into Pharoah's palace, tell him, ‘Let my people go.' And I will be with you and your people. My presence is as real as the column of smoke by day and the pillar of light at night.”
Three times over: “I am Yahweh.” And what does he do? Well, the verbs pile on top of each other. Each verb could easily turn into a sermon. I won't do that this morning. Each verb—the Lord bless you and keep you and make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. Let him turn his face towards you and give you shalom. All those powerful verbs convey presence, God's gift—“I am with you.”
Psalm 121 picks up many of these verbs, you remember. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains. From whence cometh my help? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth, who will always keep you.” Six times over in Psalm 121. He never slumbers, He never takes a nap. He will keep you in the palm of His hand. He will make His face shine upon you. What a beautiful image. I know, it's anthropomorphic. It's using language about humans to talk about God, who is spirit. But despite this anthropomorphic language, you hear the intent, don't you? “I will let my face shine upon you.”
When someone turns his or her face towards you and looks you in the eye, you sense intimacy, warmth, friendship, love. |
Now when someone turns his or her face towards you and looks you in the eye, you sense intimacy, warmth, friendship, love. But when someone turns his or her face away from you, ah, you sense coldness, distance, anger, hatred. Think of the two brothers feuding with each other, Cain and Abel. You recall how suddenly Cain, we read in Genesis 4:5, turned his face downward, and suddenly his heart was on fire with hate, with murder. Cain turned his face downward.
God lifts up his face, looks you all in the eye and says, “I am your God, who will bless you and keep you and make my grace shine upon your life.” Beautiful words. I want you to hear this morning the ringing affirmation of God, whom we as New Testament people know far better than Moses could have ever known, we know God's face and the face of Jesus, whose death and resurrection we will celebrate at the communion table in a few moments. And we recall God's grace in Christ as surely as bread is broken and wine is poured, so surely you may believe. Despite our sin, “I will be gracious to you.”
And then, notice: “And I will give you peace.”
Shalom means well-being, wholeness, all that is right with God and fellow humans, and with yourself in your heart. God says, “That's what I want to give you: shalom.” |
I'm fond of that Hebrew word, shalom. It conveys much more than cessation of war, though that's beautiful already. Oh, wish to God all wars would end. Wish to God that all over the planet, human beings would learn to live together in harmony and peace. But cessation of war, that's only one aspect of shalom. Shalom means well-being, wholeness, all that is right with God and fellow humans, and with yourself in your heart. Just think of it. God says, “That's what I want to give you: shalom.” Priceless.
To end our services of worship with a benediction, which I strongly promote, it was our custom in the past to bow our heads, close our eyes, and receive it as a prayer. I find that touching. First, you sense there is something meaningful happening. Automatically hearing about God speaking to us we almost instantly bow heads and close our eyes. But I prefer that the benediction be received open-eyed and heads erect, seeing the visual giving through the pastor of God's gift to you. And open-eyed with an open heart and open hands, you are saying, “Yes, thank you God for being who You are in Christ Jesus, our Lord, a gracious God always ready to pardon and forgive and to make new beginnings in our lives, especially at the communion table.”
In closing, Philip Yancey wrote that beautiful book, What's So Amazing About Grace? Many of you may have read it. A few weeks ago, Scott Peck passed away from pancreatic cancer at the age of 69. And suddenly I remembered from the opening chapter in Yancey's book, something about Scott Peck. This is the story.
Yancey said he or a friend of his overheard the following conversation on a subway in New York City. They were on the way to work that morning and sitting on the left side was a young woman reading the book by Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled. The young woman was obviously intrigued and paged through it and went back to the opening line, which begins, you may remember, “Life is difficult.” A man sitting on the other side of the aisle, obviously wanting to start up a conversation with this woman said, “What are you reading?” “Oh, she said, a friend of mine gave me this book, The Road Less Traveled.” And she said, “It's the best guide for life.” “Oh,” said the man. “What's it all about?” She said, “I don't know, I just started. But let me read to you some of the chapter titles.” And then she paged through the book and she said, “Well, here's a chapter called ‘Discipline.' There's a chapter entitled, ‘Love', and there's the chapter called ‘Grace.' ” The man on the other side of the aisle said, “Hold it a minute. What is grace?” And the woman answered, “I don't know. I haven't gotten that far.”
People of Eastern, if you were asked anywhere, any place, “What is grace?” then it is my hope and prayer that you as children of the Reformation know what grace is: God's gift of love for you. God's forgiveness to you, undeserved. God reaching out to you before you reached out to God, saving you, redeeming, using you, in Christ's name. Grace is God's redemption at Christ's expense. There is nothing that can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus my Lord.
This my final sermon at Eastern as your interim pastor. I want you to know, this God who has revealed himself best in Christ Jesus, that God says to you and to me, “Go onward, my children.” The future is unknown. We don't know what tomorrow or next month or next year will bring. We are now in transition at Eastern Avenue. But one thing we know; God says it: “I am with you always.”
And all God's people say, Amen.
Let us pray.
O Lord God, as we go forward into that unknown future, we are so grateful and so thankful that your presence is always with us, blessing us on our way, upholding us when we struggle and fall, ready to embrace us when we have wandered away from You. Lord God, as a congregation, we anticipate the arrival of our new pastor. May we be a blessing for each other, and may we under your blessing continue to thrive as we do your bidding here in the inner city. O Lord God, hear and answer us in the precious name of Jesus, our Savior and our Friend. Amen.