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Summary
Lawrence Talbott wakes up in a nightmare at the base of a tree and to the sound of a voice — the voice of his father, saying, “You’ve done terrible things, Lawrence, terrible things.” He looks down at his torn clothing, the bloody evidence of his crimes, and then runs from his father and the tree, only to be captured and imprisoned like a beast. His father is a werewolf and now he is as well… at least in the 2010 horror film, “The Wolfman.”
I suspect that Adam came to consciousness (self-consciousness that is) under a tree and to the sound of a voice saying, “You’ve done terrible things, Adam, terrible things.”
I think my very first memory is of Guilt. My mother said, “Don’t pull at the tear on the wallpaper.” I pulled at the tear on the wallpaper . . . and I thought about “me” as someone different than she and the “I” that was thinking about me. I wondered if what I had done is who it is that I am. I wondered if I was a monster. In other words, I felt shame. And I began to hide in me.
Last week, we noted that if you think your father is a monster, both man and beast, you’ll most likely be a monster too. In John five, Jesus stands in the old stone temple surrounded by spiritual invalids and next to a man who had been a physical invalid at the Pool of Bethesda, the “House of Mercy.” They were all competing for Unconditional Love, because they didn’t actually believe in Unconditional Love; they thought that God was not One, but two: Mercy to some, and nothing but torment to others—a monster.
And so, Jesus preaches the Gospel: That “our Father in Heaven” is “ONE” and “gives life to the dead” who will “hear his voice and live”; to believe is to pass from death “into life”; “all in the tombs” will hear and rise to the resurrection of life (for they’ve already been judged) or to the resurrection of judgment (to die with Christ and rise with Christ, the death of death: Life). John 5:29 is such incredibly good news! But we often just change the word “judgment” to “damnation”; we seize control of judgment, as if it were fruit on a tree; we make damning judgments on God’s behalf! Why? Perhaps we are the monsters.
How did each one of us become two? And who’s voice was it that we heard as we came into consciousness under the tree, whispering, “You’ve done terrible things”? Paul tells us that there is “One God and Father of all.” But John tells “the Jews who had believed in him,” that they are of their “father, the devil… the father of lies(John 8:31,44).” He’s not the father of people but false people (in-valid people).
The father of lies whispers, “You’ve done terrible things. And you are what you’ve done.” But our Father in Heaven declares, “You may have done terrible things, but they are not what you have done; you are what I have done, and I am doing. You are the image and likeness of me. You’re having a nightmare… wake, oh sleeper! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”
If there is no God, then at very best we are the most beastly of beasts, and you can see why people would suggest that life is the “Survival of the Fittest,” for that is what we have done. But life itself is not the survival of the fittest but the sacrifice of the fittest—one for all and all for one. And if there is a God—the God of Scripture—then we are not just beasts, but actually “The Man, ha Adam, the adam (Genesis 1:26).” That’s One Man.
About 25 years ago, this all became painfully and wonderfully clear to me. And it may be painfully, wonderfully clear to you. I’ve wondered, and you may have wondered, “Why is this so hard for people?” Well, I don’t believe that the issue is logic; it’s fashion.
In John 5:30-43, Jesus talks about witnesses who testify, then asks, “How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from (or ‘the glory of’) the only God?” So, why are the folks in the temple acting like beasts and their father the devil? Why do they want to kill Jesus? Why do they hate grace? Why can’t they believe? Answer: They receive glory from one another. They like recognition, diplomas, and titles like Reverend, Pastor, and President; they like compliments. Compliments are like a drug, aren’t they?
Think about the last time you received a compliment for something you had done. It felt great, didn’t it? And then, perhaps, uncomfortable — like it didn’t fit. And so, you sought more of them. And perhaps you began to compete for them. And then you felt anxious and alone and worried about yourself, unable to Sabbath, unable to experience leisure—it no longer “suited” you. That’s what it is to receive glory from one another.
Now think about the feeling you get when you stand on a beautiful beach and watch the sunrise. You didn’t do that, did you? And yet you feel glorious. And the glory fits; you can rest in that glory. It’s not your glory; you reflect that glory and you wear it with a smile. That’s called worship. You can’t possess glory; Glory is something or someone that possesses you.
So, what does it mean to receive glory from men? It means that you’re a slave to fashion; it’s the “fall line” and it’s “death.” And what does it mean to seek the Glory of God? It means losing yourself and finding yourself in worship dressed in faith, hope, love, joy, etc., etc. It’s not what you have done, but what God has done and is doing; He dresses you from the inside out with His own Glory.
It was the Glory of God that was hanging on the tree in the middle of the garden on the Holy Mountain when the father of lies whispered, “Take it, like a beast, and make yourself in the image of God.” And it was the Glory of God that walked out of the tomb on Easter morning. He appeared to His bride—Revelation 21:11—and now she has the “glory of God.” She surrenders to Glory, radiates that Glory, and even gives birth to Glory, the Son of Man.
John sees her (that’s us) in Revelation 12:1, and then he sees the dragon who goes to war with her children (that’s also us), using a beast from the sea and a beast from the land. The Beast from the sea is political power. Politicians come in “their own name.” And they make empires of people that exalt themselves together and humiliate others together. They dress the same, talk the same, and think the same, but it’s not logic; it’s fashion. The Beast from the land is religious power. When the Beast from the Land teaches us to worship the Beast from the Sea, the Bride becomes the Harlot who rides the Beast, thinking that we’re doing God a favor by going to war and hating our neighbors.
We don’t believe, for we seek the glory that comes from the crowd; in other words, we’re slaves to fashion, which is the uniform of the beast. But Jesus mentions at least three that “testify” (which means “to glorify another”), so if we listen to them, perhaps we do believe.
1. His “works” testify, but we cannot worship the signs; we must read the signs. He heals one body, but he will heal everybody, which is His Body, the New Jerusalem, the Bride, the seventh sign.
2. The Prophets testify, but they are hardly ever, if ever, in fashion. They write Scripture, which testifies to Jesus, but Jesus is “the Life.” We often take prooftexts out of context and crucify the Plot, who is the Logos (the logic) and the Life, Yeshua, “God is Salvation,” Jesus.
3. The Father testifies and “is testifying.” He testifies through creation all around us, and He testifies as a “breath” planted within us. And so, we recognize the Good in the midst of evil, the Truth in the lies, the Life rising from the dead, the Logos in the chaos, the Rhythm of the Song.
John 5:29, “If you believed Moses, you would believe me; for he wrote of me,” says Jesus.
In Deuteronomy, Moses tells the people that they will fail to obey the law and be exiled, but then he gives them this song: “The Song of Moses.” It ends with this line: “Yahweh atones for his people, his adamah (his bags of dust).” Revelation 13:3, in Heaven, “They sing the song of Moses and the lamb.”
In Heaven, everyone sings and everyone dances, but none of this is uniform, everyone is different, and yet, all are united in the song. It’s NOT a chant but a symphony. It’s NOT fashion; it is the Glory of God. It’s NOT a crowd; it’s a living body. It’s diversity in unity, and all of it is freedom. And so, nothing is work—it’s all rest; it’s the Sabbath Rest of God. It’s Life, and it’s Leisure.
I actually preached this entire sermon in a leisure suit. I got my first one around about 1973. I remember thinking, “It’s an obvious, self-evident truth: Leisure suits are glorious. With the invention of the Leisure Suit, clothing design has reached the state of perfection.” And yet, by 1978, you could pick one up for just a couple of bucks. There is no logical reason that I thought they were glorious in 1973 and hideous in 1978, other than the illogical reason that everyone said they were glorious in 1973 and hideous in 1978. Because I sought glory from people, I was a slave to fashion, and I didn’t even know it.
What if your faith is fashion? Well then, it’s not faith; it’s bondage to the Beast.
When we seek the glory that comes from one another, we create uniform prisons of fig leaves, shame, and fear; it’s the “fall line.” But it doesn’t fit, we cannot rest, and so fashion is always changing, and yet always the same, simply ridiculous; it’s the chant of the crowd. In this world, faith is never in fashion, and yet in reality (and in a little different way), faith will never go out of fashion; it’s eternal. He is eternal.
Moses tells us that God found Adam and Eve and dressed them in garments of skin, not what they had done, but what He had done and is doing. I bet it was a lamb, that was a man, that was God himself.
Sacrifice the beast and put on “The Man.” “Put on the Lord Jesus.”
He is who it is that we actually…am.