Sunday, February 13, 2011: Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Somewhere along the line, choosing to worship the God met in Jesus became a matter of life and death for me.
Although I was raised in a preacher's household and have been a preacher myself for three decades, my own conversion happened gradually. I didn't even realize what I was going through until one of my parishioners told me that the congregation had been watching my conversion one Sunday, one sermon at a time.
There was a time when preaching Moses' invitation to "choose life so that you and your descendants may live" seemed straightforward to me. The life-giving choices conveniently lined up with my political and theological leanings. But somewhere along the line, choosing to worship the God met in Jesus became a matter of life and death for me. Youthful certitude gave way to doubt in Moses' assurance that "this commandment . . . is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away" (Deut. 30:11). Choosing life in a messy world turned out to be much harder than Moses had promised, so I danced around this text whenever it showed up on the calendar. The congregation did not seem to notice. But I did. The text haunted me.
The pulpit that I inhabit on Sunday morning has the Hebrew lettering "etz hayim" inscribed on it from right to left. Tree of life. Those who gather on Sunday morning also see, over my shoulder, a large wooden cross. Tree of death. The upside-down logic of the gospel is in the face of the congregation every time it gathers. Tree of life. Tree of death. Which is which? We come from a world in which choosing the good life looks like securing the bottom line, building up a good portfolio, bolting the door against trouble and playing your part as a consumer. On Sunday we enter a world in which trying to save our lives leads to the loss of everything. In this peculiar world dying for Jesus' sake turns out to be the portal to a life that is richly blessed.
