The Reverend Mike Riggins 10/16/22

It's Counter Intuitive

Psalm 119:105-109
Matthew 11:16-30

Psalm 119 is the longest chapter in the Bible. Scholar Mitchel Dahood calls it,

“an elaborate acrostic poem”. The author created twenty-two stanzas, each with eight

lines. The first stanza starts with the letter Aleph, the first letter of the Hebrew

alphabet. The second starts with Beth, the second letter, and so on. For the record,

our verses start with the letter Nun, the twelfth letter in the Hebrew alphabet. The

Hebrews loved word play. The Old Testament overflows with puns, surprising rhymes

and acrostics like this one. Psalm 119, also known as the “Psalm of the Law” carries

one theme throughout its length: making God's law the governing principle of our lives.

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light to my path.” Thy Word means

God's law. The Hebrews referred to their sacred books as The Word. Not the Word of

God, certainly not the Word of Yahweh, as they believed naming God out loud was a

grievous sin. The author of the words, “I have sworn an oath...to keep your righteous

ordinances” would certainly never commit such a trespass. No, he would make The

Word the foundation for every aspect of his life. Here he asks that God might preserve

him “according to Thy word.”

Our final verse can confuse us. I prefer Dahood's translation, which reads, “My
life is in your eternal hands, so I do not forget your law.” He sees himself as utterly

dependent on God. He believes obeying the law of God is the sole path to whatever

concept of salvation he had. Our Reformed tradition teaches us our salvation comes

not through obedience to the law, but through faith in the risen Savior, Jesus Christ.

Still, the law has its uses. According to John Calvin, the law serves three purposes. It

convicts us of our sin. It tells us the consequences of sin, which without the saving

grace of Christ would be death. And it guides our behavior by teaching what is, and is

not, righteous. Therefore we Presbyterians ought to hold God's law in the same place

of reverence as the Psalmist.

Theology professor Daniel Migliore once told my seminary class what he

claimed was a true story. When he got his driver's license his father told him that if he

ever drank and drove, he would lose his driving privilege for a very long time. On the

other hand, his father continued, “If you ever drink and need a ride, call me and I will

come get you, no questions asked.” (As a matter of fact, my father offered me “the

ride” as well. And I will admit I once did call the Dad Taxi. Making that call scared the

liver out of me. But true to his word, my dad never asked me the first question about

it.) One time not-yet-professor Migliore attended a keg party. He rode with a friend.

At the end of the evening, as his drunk friend climbed behind the wheel, Migliore

decided not to get in the car. He called his father, who came and got him. The next

morning they got a call from his friend's mother. She told them he had driven into a

tree. He was hurt but would recover. Migliore told us the moral of the story was, “My

father laid down the law. I followed it. I already knew drunk driving was stupid. But
unless an authority clearly told me right and wrong I wonder whether I would have

refused to get into that car?”

You could make a case for interpreting this story as the law saving. The

Psalmist would probably see it that way. To him it would be counter intuitive to

understand it only as a case of giving clarity about right and wrong. His entire

relationship with God was predicated on obedience to God's law. It may seem a minor

difference but it is important. Saying obedience saves removes Jesus' entire mission

on Earth. He came because we cannot obey the law and we therefore cannot be

saved by it. This does not negate the law. It simply keeps it in its rightful place. The

Apostle Paul took this view. And he was a Pharisee, an expert on the Old Testament

law. In his letter to the Romans he wrote, “But now we have been released from the

law because we have died to that in which we were held so that we might serve in

newness of the spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.” The letter of the law does

not set us right with God, faith inspired by the Holy Spirit does that.

What did Jesus have to say about the law? In our passage from Matthew he

alludes to his thinking, without making a definitive statement. But then, he so often did

that. I believe we can understand his meaning. He starts with a reference to “this

generation”. He speaks of those who live in the lifetime of John the Baptist, who has

been the focus of the preceding verses. But his words apply to anybody who reads

them, including us. Jesus continues with a “cannot win for trying” complaint about how

these people will criticize, whether they do or do not celebrate his coming.
 Jesus then warns people in the places he has performed miracles. They have

seen his power yet refused to repent of their sins. In fact, he threatens them with the

judgment of the Father. This clearly implies they know the difference between right

and wrong, between not-sin and sin. And where will they have learned that difference

if not from the law? Next, he (probably with a certain measure of sarcasm) thanks the

Father for hiding what his arrival means from the “wise and understanding”; yet

revealing its meaning to “babes”. His next words explain that only he has seen the

Father; only he can make the Father known to those whom he chooses to enlighten.

Taken altogether, these sayings communicate that a sinful generation has deluded

itself into thinking it understands God's program. They think obeying the law protects

them from judgment. But the humble babes—who, let us not forget, are also trying to

obey the law—are the only ones who get to see Jesus for who he really is: the Savior.

His concluding words in our section bring home the truth of this interpretation.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” he says. We

might think that labor and that burden are entirely physical in nature. They are more.

They are spiritual as well. The labor must refer in part to the effort of trying to obey the

law. The burden must refer in part to the anxiety generated by spiritual uncertainty.

So how do Jesus' followers gain relief? By working even harder? By becoming even

more obedient? Or by letting him shoulder their burdens? We know the answer. We

know that as Paul wrote, we find renewal when the Holy Spirit breathes faith in the

risen Christ into our hearts and minds.

 Archaeologists working in Galilee, where Jesus probably spoke these words,

have uncovered yokes so small they would have fit a single man. In other words, in a

community where only the richest could afford even a donkey, at least part of the

plowing got done by human beings. The sight of a man wearing a yoke and dragging

an implement behind him would have been familiar to them. For them the thought of

gaining spiritual and emotional strength by working less would have irresistible appeal.

For that matter, it still does. The yoke of Jesus works because he does the heavy

lifting. We need not live in fear of losing his gracious redemption because we failed in

some small point to obey his law. We still ought to obey his law. But he pulls us along

with him even when we fail.

The bulletin insert today notes that we have grown up in a culture that teaches

us our security comes from acquiring more. We think more money and more

resources will surely protect us from calamity. And while this preacher certainly has

tried to labor to provide for his family and himself, and while I believe this is the

responsible and loving thing to do, we all recognize that our 401(ks) and pensions do

not provide us every kind of security. We may get to sleep more easily, but when we

wake up the next day we need to ask ourselves: for what purpose do I live? As the

insert says, “life in the community centered on Jesus is a journey to a world that

creates positive, life-affirming, meaning bestowing energy that is 'easy' and a 'good fit'

for those who try it as a discipline for ordering their existence.”

This “ordering existence” speaks to our need to get our houses in order
physically, financially and especially spiritually. Even if you did not know it when you

came through those doors this morning, by now you will have guessed we have

entered stewardship season. To those who, when they hear “stewardship season”

automatically translate it to “begging for money season”, I reply, yes, I openly ask all of

us to pledge to support the church financially. I also genuinely believe in ordering our

existence in line with Jesus' teachings about the whole of our lives.

Do I spend my time in line with God's call upon my life? What about my physical

energy? My prayers? Good stewards can answer with qualified yeses to each

question. Now here is where I must confess I do not have a really high batting

average on each and every one of them. I have good intentions. I give it a shot. But

honestly, for me at least, it appears ordering my existence in line with Jesus' teachings

will be a life-long project. I can say this: when I try to plow the field on my own it does

not work well. Professor Migliore also emphasized that the Bible draws a clear line

between intention and intentionality. Intention is only hoping and wanting.

Intentionality is making a plan and executing it. Nowhere does the Bible speak more

clearly about this difference than when Jesus speaks of putting on his yoke. It is a

plan. We can do it. When we do, it relieves us spiritually and empowers us to become

better followers of his, better stewards. Make the plan. Execute it. Turn to Jesus that

you might order your life around his teaching. It may seem counter intuitive. It may

seem like a sly way of begging for more money. It is the opposite. It is the call to ease

and purpose. Take on Jesus' yoke.