She strode feverishly across the room, brandishing two sheets of paper, one in each hand. She was smiling and yet agitated, excited and yet anxious. "I want this job so much I can taste it." In one hand was a job listing that read as if her very name were on it. Her degree, her major, her experiences, her interests ... they were all there. This job was made for her.
In the other hand she carried her resume, all newly touched up and carefully printed out on that high quality paper you use only for things like diplomas and never, never for the grocery list. How could that agency do anything else but hire her, once they saw that resume? Why would they have any questions at all? The job should be hers! "I want that job so much I can taste it!"
But of course they said what all employers are supposed to say, "Thank you very much. We will have to check your references. We will send for your transcript. We will assess your experience and then we do have to offer it to someone within before we offer it to someone from outside. But thank you very much." As in good-bye. As in don’t call us, we’ll call you. Someday. Maybe.
Well, that brush-off did not discourage her. Actually it only increased her intensity. Remember what she had said, "I want that job so much I can taste it!" She began to look for somebody that knows somebody that knows somebody. She sat down and composed a letter that would make you think she was running for sainthood. She did everything but storm the gates of heaven and demand that the Lord use one of His thunderbolts to get their attention. "I want that job so much I can taste it."
Have you ever wanted something so deeply that you just about had the physical sensation of tasting it? Have you ever felt so right, so positive that something was for you that you could hardly wait until you could have it? So committed to something that was just beyond you ... you could see it, you could smell it, you could almost taste it, but you didn’t yet have it to bite down on?
I hope you’ve had that feeling. I hope there was something you felt that passionate about.
But sometimes this business of being so ready for something that you can taste it leaves a bitter taste behind. Sometimes it goes wrong and you feel very frustrated.
Almost exactly thirty years ago, I had graduated from the seminary and felt very strongly that I knew what I wanted to do. I knew, on the one hand, that I had been trained to be a pastor, and so I wanted to be a pastor. But I also knew that I had a strong interest in the Reformation period of European history, and that I wanted to go on for a Ph.D. degree.
And so, with those goals in front of me, I set out to find placement in a church near one of the universities that offered what I wanted to study. I spent the entire summer of 1963 preaching in little rural and small town churches near Bloomington, Indiana, but hearing every Sunday, "Thank you for coming. Did you know we called a new pastor last week?"
At the end of the summer, with the seminary hinting strongly they wanted us out of student housing, since I was no longer a student; and with the announcement from my wife that just the two of us would in a few months be the three of us, I began to feel very anxious. Something had to happen, and soon!
It was then that the perfect opportunity showed up. A church only eight miles from Indiana University, a church which had always had part-time pastors, seminary students who would be down in Louisville most of the week but at the church just on the weekends ... this church had decided it now wanted a full-time pastor. They had grown to the place where they could support a pastor and they had built a brand-new parsonage as well. How much better could it get?
They asked me to come and preach one Sunday late in August. I did. Morning and evening, I preached my heart out. At the end of the day the search committee chairman said, "We like what we hear and see. Can you come and preach again this coming Sunday and meet with our committee afterward?" Of course I could and of course I did.
I gave it all I had that next Sunday ... which, if the truth be told, wasn’t a whole lot, but I gave it anyway. I wound up with a stem-winder for Sunday night, and sat down with the committee. They were friendly, they seemed pleased, they even talked about the when and the how much and all the nitty-gritty stuff.
We drove home, feeling great. This was going to be my church! I wanted that place, I wanted that pulpit so much I could taste it!
About 11:00 that night the phone call came. “Brother Smith, you’re a fine young man. You brought good messages. Everybody likes you. But … but ... our people feel that if we are going to have a full-time pastor, we are going to have a full-time pastor and not one who will also be at the university. I’m sorry.”
You’re sorry?! Let me tell you about sorry. Margaret and I literally wept most of that night. We were devastated. I wanted that place so much I could taste it! But what we got was a bitter taste! I never got to bite down on what I thought was mine to have!
Have you ever had that kind of experience? Have you ever wanted something so deeply that not only did you just about have the physical sensation of tasting it, but you never got it? Have you ever felt so right and so positive that something was for you, you could hardly wait until you could have it, only to discover that you were never going to have it? So committed to something that was just beyond you ... you could see it, you could smell it, you could almost taste it ... but you never got a chance to bite down on it?
God has, you know. God has had that experience. God has had that disappointment. When our God reached out and chose a people for Himself and then placed leadership over them, God intended that His people Israel be a light to the nations. He intended that His people bless the world with a witness to truth and to righteousness. And especially our God intended and hoped that His people’s leaders would lead them in justice. God’s passionate expectation for the nation’s leaders was that they would offer certain things to the people. But they did not. And God was severely disappointed.
Through the prophet Ezekiel our God tells us of the things he wanted so much He could taste them, but they became dreams deferred:
Ezekiel 34:1-6
What a terrible indictment, that leaders are more interested in their own comfort than in the needs of the people! What a disappointment to a God who has invested His very heart in this world, only to see His dreams shattered! He has wanted a world of mercy and justice so passionately He can almost taste it. But it’s not happening, not happening.
Did you identify God’s intentions for His people and their leaders? Let me list them for you.
I
First, God wants the world to be fed. It is not His intention that his children should starve. Simply put, human beings have a right be fed. It is not a privilege, it is their right. But those of us who control the world’s food resources seem painfully unwilling to share them.
There is a good deal of discussion today about the use of food as a weapon. Some argue that we should starve out the Bosnians or the Muslims or whoever, and then they will surrender. Let the Somalis starve so that we can get out and get home. But I cannot believe that a merciful God wants us, this nation, to give people over to starvation just to serve our own political ends.
"Mr. President, do not let the Somali people die of starvation and of oppression thousands at a time, just because a few of your critics are worried about Americans dying one at a time." God wants His people fed. His disappointment is that we would rather feed ourselves.
On this World Hunger Sunday, can we at least nail this much down? God is passionate about the world’s hunger issues. Can we remain unmoved at the knowledge that nearly 800,000,000 people are chronically undernourished? Can we be satisfied, seeing that in Southern Asia two out of every three children are underweight? Can we be indifferent about a half million children a year going blind because of Vitamin A deficiency? God has done His part. The food resources are here. The world already produces more than enough food to feed its people. It is we, and our leaders, our shepherds, who have lacked the political will and the human passion to do what must be done.
God wants the world to be fed. He wants it so much He can taste it. "Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep." God wants that so much He can taste it.
II
Notice, next, that God wants His children to be healthy. He expects His world to be one in which physical health is possible for everyone. And He expects His shepherds to lead the way. But again, we have failed.
“You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured …but with force and harshness you have ruled them."
I do not know nor could I understand if I knew them all, the details of the health care proposals that are being laid out for the Congress. And if I knew them and understood them, this would still not be the time or place to discuss them.
But this much I do know: that we as a nation and we as Christian people do have to become passionate about the physical health of the world. Our God wants the health of His people so much He can taste it! He is absolutely committed to that. I would hope you and I could be as well.
So much could be said. But let me put it in a few capsules. A great nation can set a priority for medical research and for health care, even it does cost some money. A great profession, the medical profession, can find a way to get its people where the need is the greatest rather than where the green is the greatest. A great people, who care deeply enough, could stop the gun lobby and could stem the flow of firearms. A great city, the capital city, could care for its children. When hundreds of the babies born in the District of Columbia are born poorly nourished, affected by alcohol and drug use; when scores of our children have died or have been deeply scarred from abuse by adults, where are God’s passionate people? When will we stand and speak and act of behalf of the weak and the powerless? God cares for His little ones so much He can taste it. Can we feel that urgency?
Listen to what God says: “You shepherds of Israel ... you have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured."
There’s a church in the area that is trying to place abandoned children in homes for adoption or for foster care. They had parents who were eager and well qualified. They found couples who deeply wanted to adopt or care for a child. But then they found out that, try as they might, they could almost never place a child! The public agency which had custody of the children somehow always found a way to delay, to wait, to lose records, to ·fumble around. Very seldom were any children actually placed. Then the church people figured it out. That agency was not really there for the placement of children in homes; that agency was there to make jobs and to justify its take at the federal trough. The more children you keep in custody rather than in homes the more people you can hire and the bigger budget you can command.
“You shepherds of Israel ... you have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured." God wants that so much He can taste it.
III
Now ... let me go one further step. Let me leave off the preaching and go to meddling. I’ve been talking about folks we have all assumed are not here in this room ... you know, the problem is in the White House, the problem is on Capitol Hill, the problem is in the District Building, and so on …maybe the problem is even in that Government Center in Rockville!! Let me leave off the preaching and go to meddling. Let me leave the halls of government and come to this hall of worship.
God, our God, not only wants the hungry to be fed. God, our merciful God, not only wants the weak to be healthy. God, our merciful and gracious God, also wants His children to have spiritual health, spiritual direction, salvation. Our God is as passionate about the spiritual welfare of His people as he is about their physical and medical welfare. He wants that so much He can taste it.
And we the church of the Lord Jesus Christ are failing to catch that passion.
Listen: “You have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost …so they were scattered ... they wandered … scattered all over the face of the earth, with no one to search or seek for them.”
Men and women, we dare not take lightly the insistence of the Scripture from beginning to end that those who live their lives outside of God are lost. Lost. You don’t care for that word? That’s not my word, that’s the Bible’s word. That’s not the word of some fire-breathing fundamentalist ranting away on Sunday morning TV. That is God’s word. And God’s passion. And God’s judgment. “You have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost."
I just ask you, then, if you and I will not so much as walk across the street to share the gospel with someone, doesn’t that mean that we have not caught God’s passion? Doesn’t that mean that our God wants to love and to save so much He can taste it, but we are standing in the way? We just don’t get it, do we? We just don’t get it. Seeking the lost.
I am not talking about finding other nice churchly folks to come and share our nice church with us. I am not talking about stealing sheep from other churches, where they are unhappy; they’ll just be unhappy over here too. I am talking about actively, passionately bringing the straying, the broken, the messed-up, the lost. Wanting people to be saved so much you can taste it.
What if? What if we were to want things as much as God wants them? What if we find a way to turn ourselves on to seeing that the hungry are fed and the weak made well and the lost are saved? What then?
God has a promise for us. Through the prophet Ezekiel the Lord tells us what He will do for us:
Ezekiel 34:23, 26-27a, 30-31
I have been hinting all summer long at some of the feelings stirring in my own heart. I have in effect been saying that at this time in my life and at this juncture in the life of this church, it is time either to fish or cut bait. Back in July I think some of you thought I had resigned. Do you remember my sermon on Eli and Samuel, and how I told you I had been struggling with how the last ten or so years of my career should be spent? Do you recall how I spoke about all that we could do and should do here, about how we need to come unglued and not be so settled and entrenched in our patterns? My closing line was, “I’d rather my name be Samuel, doing something fresh somewhere, than Eli, stuck in the same old same old, at Takoma Park." Do you remember?
Well, I’ve been doing some more thinking and struggling. I want you to know that insofar as personality, time, energy, and your response allow, I’ve been changing my leadership style. I have started to insist that we do certain things, redemptive things. Somehow we as a church have gotten into the pattern of waiting and waiting and waiting for everybody to reach consensus and feel good. And it hasn’t worked. It hasn’t been passionate enough. We haven’t wanted what God wants so much that we can taste it. We haven’t been faithful shepherds. I haven’t been a faithful shepherd.
Well, I do want what God wants. I do want the hungry to be fed, and I want us to have a part in making it happen. I do want the weak and the sick to be healed, and I want us to be instruments of healing. And ... we are an evangelical church, now … it won’t kill us to speak of salvation and lostness ... I do want men and women to find Christ and be saved.
I want it all and I want you to want it all. That’s why whenever we start something new we sing that song, “I cannot wait, I cannot wait.” I want you to want what God wants so much we can taste it.
I never did get that Ph.D. degree. Nor did I get to be a pastor for 23 years. It’s not wanting what we want so much we can taste it. It’s wanting what God wants so much we can taste that.
