A word from on high

Waiting. Waiting at the river’s edge. Waiting to hear what John might say next. He’s a controversial guy, is our John – with quite a crowd around him.

Powerful people are made nervous by his proclamation – he’s not afraid to ‘tell it like it ought to be’…kingdom of God – righteous judgement and all that.  So yeah, there are some curious folk gathered at the river on this day. Some of them were actually listening – hoping for something amazing.

Then along comes Jesus.

Jesus gets in line. Jesus would be baptized too – though John, at first, objects. And then – well… some would call it a miracle.

A voice from heaven – the Spirit ‘descending like a dove’ – suddenly, John doesn’t seem quite so crazy. This is the moment he seems to have been talking about – the start of something wonderful – all because of a word from on high.

We make a big deal out of this moment in the life of Jesus; not because he was baptized (though that is something) but because of this heavenly affirmation that is recorded in the gospels; just one more piece of heavenly evidence. And we’ll take all of that we can get, frankly - because otherwise, God can seem a little distant – a little disconnected from the hustle and bustle of our lives. These ‘voice from heaven’ moments – mountaintop experiences – theophanies (to use a technical term) are an important part of the way our faith is shaped. Scripture has scores of examples – dreams and visions and a burning bush; a series of plagues; a succession of miracles; angelic visitors, guiding stars – it’s really quite a list. All of these help us tell the story of who we are in relation to God’s grandeur…because we long for evidence – we treasure connection – we demand to know; and these stories help inform our questions and offer us some reassurance, but…

When was the last time YOU heard a word from on high?

 

We live in an age of rationalization. Where the biblical narrative is concerned, we say things like ‘that was a different time…’ We pray for miracles, but don’t easily recognize them when they happen (or explain them away to maintain our sense of order.) We pray – every week – that God’s will might be done on earth [just as it is in heaven!] – and then offer excuses as to why that can’t or won’t happen. A world that features God’s intervention – a place where God’s voice is occasionally heard thundering down out of the clouds – that’s a world that we can’t explain, and so makes us very uncomfortable. We’d much rather stick with the safe distance of a biblical example. But God’s voice is not silenced. God’s presence is palpable. Theophany is not an abstract concept. We have just fallen out of the habit of noticing the when and where and how of God’s presence.

Yes, God is glorious and awe-inspiring; yes, there is mystery and power and something a little intimidating about the magnificent Creator and Lord of all. But we have decided somewhere along the way that God only ‘speaks’ in earth-shaking displays of power and authority. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I have heard God in a mother’s whispered prayer; in voices robbed of their power by illness, exhaustion and grief. In those very personal, very intimate moments, the presence of God is as real as any grand display. Time seems to stop - the whole world seems focused on a single moment. No thunder or lightning - no burning bush or angelic messengers are needed. The Creator is present.

Perhaps you have had similar experiences; moments of knowing that words were not necessary - knowing the peace of God's presence - feeling, deep in your soul, that your need has been acknowledged, and you are no longer alone with your thoughts. 

That ‘peaceful presence’ can make itself known in an empty room, or in a crowded store. In the snatches of a tune whistled by a stranger; in a kind gesture; a patient glance.

I remind you of this because I think it likely that the ‘headline events’ from Scripture that we use as the measure of how and when God is revealed, may be…embellished - for effect. It’s hard to read about Jesus’ baptism, for example, without imagining something like a Cecil B DeMille production: crowds stretching out to the edge of the camera shot. A wild-haired John the Baptist - hip deep in a pristine stream. Pharisees lurking on the edge of the crowd, waiting for someone to make a mistake. Jesus, resplendent in white, gliding through the crowds and the rocks to meet his wild-eyed cousin. Then, the voice - the Spirit - the moment that has people talking for days - for generations. Isn’t that how you imagine it?

 

There is no doubt that the group gathered to hear John that day experienced something wonderful - something like a dove descending and the voice of God proclaiming - and Jesus was the focal point for all of their experiences. In him, each person present saw a strand of the larger story being drawn together - made into a pattern that only makes sense once more of the story has been revealed. The gospel writers - eager to convince - bring a lifetime of experience with Jesus together in a grand presentation. And so, we too imagine that every ‘God moment’ must be grand and glorious.

If we are waiting for God to be revealed in something blinding and magnificent, we’ll likely be disappointed. It’s not impossible, but it does limit God’s options - and God doesn’t work in limited options. The still, small voice; the gentle, gracious presence; the light of love in the eyes of a stranger; the quiet confidence of a faithful friend. It’s not headline-making stuff, but God is present. It’s not the obvious evidence that we think we want, but it is proof of the pattern that God offers in Jesus. That ‘voice from on high?” There may still be those moments. But in the meantime, God speaks - God acts - God is among us.