Safekeeping

Jude 1-2

Robert M Watkins

July 29, 2007

 

For such a short piece of writing, Jude offers many things to consider. Even in the opening of his short epistle, Jude lays out before us three phrases that compel us to stop and think about what they mean. Not to do so would be a major misstep. We would miss the point of everything that follows, perhaps even our reason for being here.

 

To those who are called…

Human beings have a propensity for assuming that almost all of what we do is voluntary—it is our choice to work where we work, to join what we join, and to be what we want to be. We are free to be whatever we want as we want. Anyone can become anything through hard work and dedication. It’s all about human will and volition. It’s all about seizing the day and making of it whatever we want.

 

The Bible, though, paints a different picture.

 

The Bible declares that we are what we are and we do what we do because God calls us into those things, meaning, everything. God is sovereign and governs our existence. That is the definition of vocation. As the Bible defines it, vocation is nothing to take lightly. It is the very reason for this gathering—God has called a particular group of human beings together to form a community of faith. Each person in each pew is here because God has placed them here. We have been called together. God has drawn together a group of human beings, each of whom is blessed with a set of gifts to share, an imagination with ideas to help us form our ministries, and talents to employ in getting those ministries accomplished. God saw a need for each person to be here.

 

The irony is that many of us wonder within ourselves what it is we are doing here. We wonder why we come week after week. We wonder if there is anything we have to offer. Jude tells us that there is. There is no question of it. One’s presence within these walls means one has something to give and to offer that is holy. Which means that we cannot take one another for granted. All human gatherings tend to struggle with stratifications and layers and divisions. It just happens when more than one person is in a place—there will be examinations to see how we measure up. We will pick sides and decide the worthiness of the people around us. We will make judgments. Jude tells us to abandon such things in this place. All are called. All have something to offer. All are to be treasured. God sees each person as God’s own child.

 

To those who are beloved…

And here is why God called us together—God loved us.

 

I can never get beyond the utter profundity of that thought—to be loved by God. Science continually expands our vision of the created order in which we live. As it does so, there is more and more reason for us to vanish within the scope of its complexity. The universe is so huge that it cannot be crossed. We cannot even get to the nearest neighboring star. The distance is simply too vast. It does no good to turn within, either, for then we discover that there is seemingly no end to how deep one can dive into the microscopic depths of reality. Smaller and smaller we can go and discover deeper and deeper wonders hidden within those confines.

 

Who are we that God would consider us within such a miraculous realm of Being? Philosophers and thinkers have pondered that question in every human age. Sometimes I think we avoid the question by getting lost in our busy-ness. We simply make ourselves too busy to consider the world in which we live. We content ourselves with our own little corners of the universe. We get lost in the cul-de-sac. At least there we can trick ourselves into thinking the world is manageable. Then as you go to buy a cup of coffee at the bookstore, you begin to browse the cut-out bin. Tucked in there is a book by Albert Einstein called Ideas and Opinions, a collection of his essays. You pick it up and are intrigued by how conversationally the great physicist writes. He pulls you in, and there it is, the wonder of creation, and no longer much of anything seems manageable. We are motes skimming across the surface of God’s imagination.

 

Yes, but Jude declares that we are the beloved of God. He is simply reiterating a thought that runs through the whole of Scripture. As the ancient Hebrews thought about creation, they realized that the human being was profoundly different from all other creatures. We could dream things, hope things, imagine things, create things, love things in ways that were impossible for every other creature. We are a little less than angels, sang the psalmist. We are the image of God, proclaimed the ancient priests. Why are we so gifted? Because God loved us. Our creation is nothing less than an expression of God’s love.

 

In that love, God calls us together. God brings us into this place, not only to celebrate that love, but to send us out to proclaim that love to a world that desperately needs it. Violence tears at the fabric of our world. Oppression and greed seem to run the business of the world. Justice and fairness seem pipedreams, as even a glance at the sports pages reveals. Our world is out of whack. God sends us out to mend it, in love, through love, and with love. That is our vocation as the people beloved by God.

 

To those who are kept safe…

And God grants us an assurance of strength and safety as we enter that dark and broken world—God assures us that we will be kept safe through God’s presence and power.

 

One of the most powerful moments in the Gospel of John comes as Jesus prays in the wee hours of Good Friday while the world is still in the somnolent darkness of night. Christ prays for the disciples, and by association, you and me. What a prayer it is. Christ prays deeply and repetitiously that all who follow him will be kept safe.

 

Jude remembers that prayer as he reminds us of who we are. God has not forgotten Christ’s prayer. God continually answers that prayer.

 

One of the reasons we come to this place, why God calls us to gather together, is for reassurance, to hear again this promise that God abides and that God keeps us.

 

I remember one evening when my children were very small when I did not think I would ever get out of Perry’s bedroom. We had just moved to North Carolina. He was barely two years old and had been uprooted from the only home he had known. He had to greet a brand new baby sister who would be staying with us always. He had been put into a new preschool with new faces, both grown and small. We read our story, we sang our songs, we prayed our prayers, and I tucked him into his bed, drawing the covers upon him. Then he needed a drink of water. Then he needed to say something. Then he was too hot. Then he was too cold. Then his blanket did not smell right. Then the wrong stuffed critter was by his pillow. Then the streetlight put scary lights on the wall. Then the dog was too loud. Then it was too quiet. The bottom line was he needed me in the room that night while he fell asleep.

 

We all need that assurance from time to time. We need that presence, that certainty that we are not alone. The world is a scary place even when we know we are called to work within it and when we know we are beloved by God. We still need something more, one thing else to see us through—we need to know we are safe.

 

Jude tells us that God abides. We are within the arms of the everlasting Lord, sheltered from the stormy blasts, as the hymn sings. We are safe.

 

 

Three things in a single line of greeting. For a man who wrote so little, Jude certainly wrote a lot.