“King David, Old Testament Rock Star.”
You’re
likely familiar with some of the details of King David’s life. He started as one of the true underdogs of
scripture, the youngest and smallest of his family who is selected by the
prophet Samuel as God’s choice to rule Israel.
Once he was in the royal court,
his musicianship soothed the frayed nerves of King Saul, and tradition claims
that nearly half the Psalms were composed by him. He was a military tactician, conquering much
of the region and establishing a Palace at Jerusalem. Was he a ladies’ man? The very ugly story of
his relationship with the lovely Bathsheba would suggest so. And even those who have no connection with
the Bible at all will know the early story of young David slaying the
Philistine warrior, Goliath.
Shepherd
boy, warrior, musician, king. David was
definitely living large.
Now, he was
ready for the culmination. Things had
never been better for the Hebrew/Israelite people, but David was well aware
that one thing was missing. He had moved
the Ark of the Covenant, the nation’s symbol that God lived with them, to
Jerusalem but it was still housed in a tent.
It was time to build a temple.
As is so
often the case when we get inklings about something we are called to do but
have not quite gotten around to, God sent a prophet to speak with David. Nathan recounts the great things that God has
done in David’s life, and then he draws the contrast of which David was
well-aware: (feel free to add a
stereotypic Brooklyn Yiddish lilt) ”here you are, David, living in a beautiful
palace. What a lovely throne you have. Is
that Cedar I smell? Yes, I think so, a
palace of Cedar. And while you enjoy your
rich and lavish surroundings, what housing have you provided for God? Is that Canvas I smell? Yes, I think so, a tent of canvas. Big house of cedar. Simple tent of canvas. Do you see anything wrong here, David?“
Indeed,
building a Temple for the Lord of Hosts would have capped a nearly perfect
career, like a billionaire celebrity establishing a highly visible charitable
foundation to show the world her compassionate side. But Nathan, having poked fun at the King for
putting his own comfort above God’s glory, draws David up short. “There will be
a Temple, David… but you will not be the one to build it. You have built a beautiful house of cedar,
but God will build the real ‘House of David’ and your son will be the one to
give God’s majesty a fitting home.” I
love the contrast between a House and a House and a House in this scripture:
the King’s house, God’s house, and the dynastic House of David from which King
after King and, eventually, Jesus of Nazareth, would arise.
God says, “not
you, David - it will have to wait for Solomon”.
And although the promise of descendants was the very best thing you
could offer someone in that cultural milieu, this must have irked David to some
degree. God had seen such potential in
David, and had achieved so much through him, why not continue the lofty career
trajectory and give him responsibility for the Temple as well?
I see at least two good reasons why God threw a change-up when David was expecting a fastball:
1.
God had a greater goal in mind, and the Temple
could wait. As the Bible, and daily
living, constantly remind us, God’s ways are not our ways, God’s thoughts are
not our thoughts.
2.
It’s not all about David. When we start taking too much ownership and
too much credit for things achieved in God’s name, God’s agenda is replaced by
our agenda and it’s just a matter of time before this particular venture meets
its demise.
Those are
two very good lessons to learn. Just
because I have a good idea doesn’t mean it automatically aligns with God’s
intention for the world; and, when my life’s dreams and goals become all about
me, and very little about God, I am headed for a fall.
How many of
you are familiar with Veggie Tales? Veggie Tales is a wildly successful series of
animated Christian children’s videos, TV series, Vacation Bible School
materials and related merchandise, starring Larry the Cucumber and Bob the
Tomato. Starting in the mid-1990s, our
kids were absolutely raised on Veggie Tales, a combination of computer animation,
terrific humour, Biblical storylines, and the incomparable “Silly Songs with
Larry” which interrupted the with a hilarious song that had nothing whatsoever to do with
the moral of the day’s story.
Veggie Tales
was the talk of the town among Christian booksellers by the year 2000, with the
value of its parent company, Big Idea increasing by 3000% in 3 years to a total
value of nearly $45million (Vischer, 158). Kids loved it, parents loved it, and
it was time to reach into the mainstream by making a Bob and Larry movie on the
story of Jonah. The problem was, movie
financing is a lot trickier than keeping bookstores stocked with VHS tapes, and
in the midst of production, in 2003, Big Idea Productions went bankrupt and
control of Veggie Tales was removed from its creator and creative guide, Phil
Vischer. Just when things were reaching
their apex, it all crashed, and its creator was crushed.
Phil
Vischer has written a very fine
autobiography entitled “Me, Myself and Bob” which chronicles the rise and fall
of his brainchild. Listen as he
describes the high point of his career:
“Think how much good I could do if I built the
next Disney! And so, I got busier.
And the good kept piling up, along with awards and accolades for my
‘goodness’. God must be pleased, I thought to myself, because I sure am doing a lot of good now. I hoped God was pleased, anyway, because all
the work was taking a toll on me – on my health, my marriage, and the good
people that had joined by chaotically expanding company.
“And then, in the midst of my great goodness,
everything started to go wrong.
Everything. ‘Ah, my good work!’ I
screamed. I pedaled and steered
furiously to keep my little car on the road – rocks looming on one side, a
sheer drop-of on the other – just like in the moves. Good thing I was the good guy, I thought, because the good guy never goes over the
cliff.
“Except that I did. I fell
My dream and I fell all the way to bankruptcy court, where a gaggle of
lawyers picked though the wreckage, packed up all the good parts, and… [left]
me alone, with nothing. Nothing but my
old Big Idea office chair, my thoughts, and the God who had watched me bounce
down the stairs without raising a finger.
“For a while, of course, I just lay at the
bottom of the stairs and moaned. Then I
started asking questions. ‘Why, God? Why
did you let that happen…? I was doing so much good! Didn’t you notice? Didn’t you see it? Why? ‘
“And then, very quietly, [God] started whispering
to me.” (Vischer, 228-229)
The whispers
came from many sources: from an anonymous female correspondent, who would send
emails; from part of the prayer team supporting Big Idea; and from a couple of
Canadian pastors. And from these whispers,
Phil Vischer drew these conclusions:
“God
loves you. Not because of what you can
do, or even because of what you can become if you work really, really
hard. [God] loves you because he made
you... [God] loves you even when you aren’t doing anything at all.
“God is enough.
Just God. And [God] isn’t
‘enough’ because he can make our dreams come true – no, you’ve got him confused
with Santa or Merlin or Oprah. The God
who created the universe is enough for us – even without our dreams. Without the better life, the healthy child,
the happy marriage, the rewarding work… God is enough for you. “(Vischer, 235)
“God did not kill Big Idea. I never for a second blamed God for the
collapse of my dream. I dusted the body
for fingerprints, and they were all mine.” (Vischer, 225)
Closer to
home, just prior to the beginning of the end for Big Idea Productions, my
ministry at a suburban congregation was just chugging along. Our 150-seat building had an average
attendance of 180, we were gearing up to add a second service, and boom! I crashed, lost a year to clinical depression,
and did not return to ministry at that congregation. While today is not the day
to get into a bunch of the details, the lessons I learned were absolutely
parallel to those learned by Phil Vischer:
it had come to be MY ministry, not CHRIST’S ministry, and, not too
surprisingly, the resilience and work capacity of one human is quite a bit less
than the staying power and efficacy of the everlasting foundation of the
Universe. And, as with Phil Vischer’s story, it’s all turned out for the best: The congregation I used to serve now has a
vibrant ministry in a new building in a new neighbourhood; their old building, which was always way too
small for its purposes, is now owned by a Pentecostal Church who host much-needed
after-school programs; and twelve years of other employment and a greater focus
on parenting have taught me so much about myself, about work, about life, about
joy, and I am absolutely delighted to be back in ministry… this time, with God
very much calling the shots.
If any of
these examples call to mind struggles you are currently dealing with, or
failures from the past that still cause you pain, listen closely. Whether David’s story, or Phil Vischer’s
story, or my story, the same two things are true: God’s ways are not my ways, and,
it’s not all about me. When my
little life gets misaligned with God’s big hopes, my overall chances for health
and wholeness aren’t great. That’s not to say that every disappointment in
life is related to a misalignment between our desires and God’s intentions; but
I would say that every life does require examination, what AA would call a
“searching and fearless moral inventory”, to really ask yourself whether your
life is resting on your own efforts alone, or on the foundation of Christ. That may sound like a very old-fashioned,
airy-fairy sort of task but honestly, you’ll know. Each one of us, in our heart or hearts,
knows when we’re going our own way, and when we’re trusting God’s way. And if we wonder, or doubt, prayer is a
great way to confirm the wisdom or folly of one’s current path.
The story of
David does have much to offer us today.
It really is one of those adventure stories that is “larger than life” yet bears so much
truth. The rise from nothing, the courage and strategy, the all-too-human failings…
and the temptation to see life’s path as something limited by our imagination
and our efforts. Friends in Christ, I
urge you to live a life well-examined:
ü to
prayerfully consider God’s urgings in your life,
ü to
continually test whether your personal agenda for your sphere of influence is aligned
with God’s big intentions for the world,
ü to break
free of your self-imposed limitations,
and
ü to embrace
the knowledge that you are loved beyond measure by our eternal and gracious
God.
In the name
of Christ, our life and our foundation, Amen.
Works cited:
Vischer,
Phil. Me, Myself and Bob. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2006.
See also
Bright,
John. A History of Israel, 3rd
ed. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1981. pp. 195-228.
Hoch, Robert
– commentary on 2 Samuel 7: 1-14a at
http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=7/22/2012
©2012 Rev. Greg
Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church
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