Craig's Byberg Sermon

Jesus Comes Home With Us!

Mark 1:29-39

“As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Do I hear that right? After leaving their boats and their nets and their families to follow Jesus, the second stop that Simon, Andrew, and the Zebedee brothers make on their apostolic adventure is not to "go out into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation." Instead, after a stop at the synagogue, where they are eyewitnesses to Jesus' teaching, authority, and power, these disciples bring Jesus home for sabbath afternoon lunch. The four fishermen who left everything to become, as I once sang in Sunday school, "fishers of men"—who left everything to bring people to Christ and not, as a church bureaucrat is reported to have said, "to capture members"—find themselves heading home to tend to the realities of everyday life, like a noon meal and a sick mother-in-law.

What are you heading home to tend to today? I'll make it home just in time to attend academic cabinet and personnel committee meetings. In the grand scheme of God's saving activity, a mother-in-law with a fever or the scheduling of next year's New Testament classes or a congregation burning up with fear, anger and anxiety, or a seminary struggling to become financially sustainable, all sound so small, so ordinary, so everyday, so us. For, while we long to get caught up in the salvific sweep of Christ's mission of transforming the world, so often we spend our days, we spend our ministries, we spend our lives tending to things small and ordinary and close to home.

Sigh. I confess to almighty God, before the whole company of heaven, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I long to do great things for Jesus. I long to do great things for Jesus. And, please, be clear: I am not fishing for compliments or reassurance. I get it that I lead a wonderful life. But bringing three thousand to faith in Christ through a single sermon, as Acts reports Peter did on Pentecost, still on my "bucket list." And walking on water with Jesus, even for an instant, still on my "bucket list." And revealing the messianic secret like Mark tells us Peter did, still on my "bucket list." Next week begins my seventeenth year of trying to convince seminarians that sermons are about Jesus and not about us.

How about you? What's next for you now that the annual meeting is over and the congregational budget is hopefully passed? I pray it's something Petrine. Yet, so often, the only kinship with Peter we can claim is the times we deny Christ and the ways we, like Peter, get in Jesus' way.

Except for this single story, perhaps, where all Peter does is to bring Jesus home to someone he loves—I assume Peter has a decent marriage and so loves his wife's mother. All Peter does is bring Jesus home to someone Peter loves—who is urgently sick and in need and burning up with fever. All Peter does is bring Jesus home to someone Peter loves who needs Jesus. And the remarkable thing is Jesus comes home with Peter and Jesus does the rest. Jesus—the teacher, healer, wonder worker, sshh, don't tell anyone—Jesus, the messiah, who has set out on his salvific mission of transforming the world—comes home with Peter and Jesus does the rest.

"And Jesus came and took her by the hand, and raised her up, and the fever left her, and she began to serve them." Now we get all agitated by the fact that poor Mrs. Simon-in-law has been sick and now has to jump up and serve Sabbath lunch, perhaps because that's the way some of us treat our wives and mothers. But that's not the case here. Peter's mother-in-law's fever prevents her from fulfilling her role, as senior woman in the household, of preparing the meal and serving the guests. While Peter's wife certainly could have served up supper, the privilege of showing hospitality to important guests fell to Peter's mother-in-law as a matter of honor not servitude. It's like when guests come to dinner at my house; no one gets near the kitchen without Cathy's express permission.

So, Jesus restores Peter's mother-in-law not just to health. Jesus restores Peter's mother-in-law to her social standing, to her place in the household. Jesus restores Peter's mother-in-law to community, to dignity, to honor. Just as Jesus called the disciples and they left their nets so they could follow Jesus, so Jesus raised Peter's mother-in-law up, and the fever left so she could serve Jesus.

In the grand sweep of God's saving activity of transforming the world, Jesus' power extends even to Peter's home. Jesus' power extends to our homes. Jesus' power extends to the people we love who need Jesus. Jesus' power extends to the small and ordinary things we spend our days, our ministries, and our lives tending. And Jesus raises the people we love and the small, ordinary things we tend. Sometimes, Jesus frees and empowers them to leave behind relationships, jobs, or past attitudes and actions so these things no longer control their lives. Sometimes, Jesus causes sin and sickness to leave us so that we are free to serve. Either way, Christ brings a drastic change from what was before when Jesus comes home with us to the people we love and the things we tend.

And the word spreads. "That evening at sundown, they brought to Jesus all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door [of Peter's house]. And Jesus cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons." And Simon and Andrew, James and John, found themselves caught up in the grand sweep of God's saving activity, all because Jesus came home with them to someone they loved who needed him.

So I've been musing about approaching preaching as Jesus coming home with us to people we love who really need him. I suspect that this kind of preaching would be all about Jesus, with preachers doing their best to get themselves out of the way. It requires preachers to love the ones at home, and to have an idea of what those beloved ones need. Rather than worrying about how to get swept up in the grand scheme of God's saving activity, we'll notice and appreciate when we're there. Mostly, bringing Jesus home to people we love who really need him means that, in one form or another, we will find ourselves standing at the foot of a cross.

After all, isn't that what the gospel is—God bringing Jesus home to those whom God loves who desperately need him? And there, in the place we need Jesus most, the place of ultimate pain and shame, forsakenness and failure, meaningless destruction and senseless death, Jesus raises himself and us up, bringing healing and dignity, relationship and victory, purpose and life.

So, Jesus comes home to this table. And whether we’re Peter, longing for apostolic adventure but tending ordinary things, or Peter's mother-in-law, too sick to serve, Jesus takes us by the hand as we take the bread and cup in our hands. And Jesus raises us up to honor and service. And after this stop at the Byberg synagogue, Jesus comes home with us to raise up those we love.