Who Are You, Lord?

What a week it has been! College Hoops! Kansas beat North Carolina, Auburn defeated Houston, and on Tuesday night, Kentucky plays Duke.  The World Series ended last week, and this is week 10 of the NFL. The Steelers play today at 1 pm. What a week! Oh, you thought I was talking about the election? When the white male rapist defeated the colored female lawyer and all the white Christians gathered at Mara Lago and sang “How Great Thou Art”? Yes, that was shattering, but not everybody was surprised. And those who managed their money right made a lot of money—Elon Musk made 26 billion dollars because the stock market surged up 1500 point. It’s going to be a great ride for the rich and famous. Not so much for the poor and marginalized. But never mind that. The new king is coming to town and things are going to change. What a week it has been! Right? All that is on my mind as I read the most famous conversion story in world history. A brilliant Jewish scholar, surrounded by his entourage, is on the road to Damascus. His name is Saul, and what happened to him that day shook him up and left him in a blind stupor. More than that, what happened to him that day changed him, changed his religion, and changed the course of history. We are here today because of what happened to him on the road to Damascus. “As I was on the road, approaching Damascus about noon,” he said in Aramaic, as the story is 2told in chapter 22, “a very bright light from heaven suddenly shone down around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ And I asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’” Who are you, Lord? I It is an odd question to ask the good rabbi from Tarsus. He lived in an empire filled with gods and goddesses. From Egypt, around the corner of the Mediterranean with all of its Semitic gods, into the Greek and Roman cities: gods everywhere. Later, Saul visited Athens and remarked to the street corner crowd, “I notice you are very religious in every way, for as I was walking along is saw your many shrines” (17:22). In his own right, Saul was a Bible scholar; he was a rabbi, emersed in the Hebrew Bible with its story of Yahweh, the tribal god of Israel who rescued them from bondage in Egypt, established the kingdom under David, and taught the world about ethical monotheism through the great 8^th century prophets. Saul knew all about the Lord of hosts. Which makes this question odd: “Who are you, Lord?” We think we know, don’t we, then something happens and we discover we don’t know at all. We don’t know Jack! We thought we knew our country, didn’t we? The winsome, articulate, successful woman running against the vain and vulgar man; the message of hope side by side with the message of doom; the beauty of democracy over against the threat of a despot. We thought we knew, then something happened, and suddenly, we didn’t know. And we sure don’t know now what is going to happen. I’m not ready, are you? One tiktoker recommended these seven things: read the book On Tyranny, install a water filter, get involved, save money, raise your own food, pay attention to your mental health, and know your rights. Attorney generals in the states of Maryland and Washington have established legal teams to push back all that the new president has promised to do. Another attorney in a prayer group with me confessed that she has been meeting with other attorneys for more than a year preparing a culture of resistance to a second Trump administration. God only knows what undocumented people all around us are thinking and praying and planning. In the midst of this social chaos, I think about this question, Who are you, Lord? II. Early Wednesday morning, at the campaign headquarters in Mara Lago, Florida, thousands of mostly white, mostly Christian people suddenly broke into singing, “Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee, how great thou art.” It wasn’t clear to me who they were singing about, but it was very clear that they associated the new regime with the old religious tradition. We know who the Lord is, they sang with confidence, he is the one who will bless us as we demonize the transgender, track down the pregnant, and haul away the refugee. This was camp meeting of Trump Church. Who are you, Lord? Are you the One who has brought this to pass? Are you the one loves the man and fears the woman? Are you the One eager to push my friends back into the closet? Who are you, Lord? Do I see your care in the eyes of the prenatal nurse helping a frightened woman cope with a problematic pregnancy, or is that you I see in the gaze of the prosecutor tracking every move of the gynecologist? Who are you, Lord? Are you holding open the sanctuary door for the young couple with three small children in tow, or is that you standing at the fence poking a rifle into the belly of teenager looking for a better life? Who are you, Lord? Is that you Lord, listening to the plaintive words of a ten-year old kid describing what you know as gender dysphoria, or are you the one checking with the local pharmacist to see what drugs the family around the corner has been buying for the last three years? Who are you, Lord? III I’ve read a lot of stuff on social media this week, trying to sort things out, especially my emotions and my course of action. The best sentence I have read is this, from a former student of mine at Georgetown College: “Hi, friends. Just a reminder that I am taking orders for cinnamon rolls….” There was more, but that was all I needed for the moment, how about you? What message did Saul get that day when he was blinded by the light? What answer did Saul get when he asked for clarification, Who are you, Lord? “I am Jes6us,” came the revelation. Isn’t this the answer we need today. I am Jesus. Follow me.” It is important to note that what heaven revealed to earth that day was not a list of doctrines or a ritual of worship, least of all a denominational affiliation. It was a person, Jesus of Nazareth, prophet of God, voice of the kingdom, disturber of the peace. It was a person, Jesus the Jew, Messiah of Israel, Son of God, Risen Lord. It was a person, son of Mary, cousin of John, friend of sinners. It was Jesus, who healed the sick, welcomed the stranger, and freed the prisoner and called us to do the same. “I am Jesus,” he said to Saul on the road to Damascus. “Follow me,” he says to all of us in these United States of America. Follow me, not to rule from the center of the empire but to serve the people on the margins. Follow me, not on the road to power but to the house of suffering and loss and loneliness. Follow me, not in pursuit of wealth, not in building bigger barns, but in pouring out your life for the least of these. Isn’t this the Jesus that Saul encountered that day, the man who fed 5000 people simply because they were hungry and it was lunch time? Isn’t this the Jesus that Saul encountered that day, the man who saw that ostracized man in the sycamore tree and said, “Come on down, Zacchaeus, let’s go home and talk?” Isn’t this the Jesus that Saul encountered that day, the man who was convicted on bogus charges, killed by the collusion of religious and political leaders, and buried in a borrowed grave? Who are you, Lord? I am Jesus, raised from the dead on the third day by the power and purpose of God, alive forevermore, calling you into the work of the gospel. Now, we will gather around this table. “Do this is remembrance of me,” proclaim the words carved into the wood. We remember this Jesus, the One who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. We remember the One who gave his life for the redemption of the world. We remember the one who startled Saul that day on the way to Damascus and said, “I am Jesus.” We were all there, when Saul asked the question, Who are you? And heard the answer, I am Jesus.