The Possible - A Sermon
This is a sermon I preached on January 2, 2011 at our church. It was the first week after we began our journey toward our next pastor. (Keith's last day was December 31, 2010.)
The Bible text was Matthew 2:1-12.
Many of us, maybe even all of us, live in a tyranny of the impossible. We talk endlessly about what we can’t do, what we’re just no good at, what doesn’t ever happen in the “real world.” We may not laugh at people’s dreams, but we’re always quick with the cold water of what we think of as reality.
We imagine ourselves “realists.” The world isn’t all “Kum Ba Yah,” we say. Imagination, creativity, and dreaming may be great and all, but it doesn’t pay the bills. Get your head out of the clouds.
The thing is, the “realists,” even the “realists” in ourselves, are wrong. Some things are impossible, but there are fewer of them than any of us realize. This is not a world where the possible fills in the cracks of the impossible. This is a world where the impossible forms a thin frame around the possible.
Sir Arthur Charles Clarke was a science fiction writer most famous for writing the book version of the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey and widely credited with inventing the concept of the communication satellite. In a 1962 essay titled “Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of Imagination”, Sir Arthur put forth a set of assertions now known as “Clarke’s Laws.”
The first one goes something like: “When someone tells you that something is possible, they’re probably right. When they tell you something is impossible, they’re probably wrong.”
There are more possibilities in the world than any of us can grasp.
Imagine one of the magi, seeing a new star in the sky. A new star, even if that star is just a comet, is a very rare event, so he must have checked and double checked his tables, his prophecies. He must have asked his fellow magi for confirmation.
What makes this particular star very strange is where it seems to have risen. Matthew says the magi came from the east. They were travelling west. Travelling west after seeing the new star rise. Matthew doesn’t just come out and say it, but it seems that maybe the new star rose in the western sky. The western sky. Where the sun, the moon, and every star sets because that’s the way the earth turns.
A new star rising in the west is not just rare. It’s impossible.
But maybe we’re reading too much into it. Maybe the tables and prophecies of these eastern magi only indicated that when a new star forms in this particular constellation to take note.
Even so, there’s something very strange here. An infant king whose birth is heralded even by the stars in the heavens is no ordinary king. This was a manifestation of a god. It’s the kind of thing people said about Caesar, ruler of Rome and wielder of the power of gods, not some baby from the boonies. The “King of Israel” wore his crown only because Caesar thought it was a good idea. No one, not even Herod, thought he was a manifestation of a god, much less a manifestation of the God of Israel.
This star heralding a king of Israel was crazy talk, and the magi must have known it. It was impossible that such a thing could happen.
Were they bound by the impossible, the magi would have stayed home, and chalked the whole bizarre thing up to “one of those things.” Were they bound by the impossible, the early Christians would have never continued following a man who had been killed by the powerful. Were we bound by the impossible, we at Northminster wouldn’t even be here, never mind all the things we have done over the past few years, like starting and growing our capital fund, or forming this new Wednesday night thing or putting together our own youth trips to Montreat when much larger churches didn’t even attempt anything so brash.
It is at our peril that we succomb to the tyranny of the impossible. Pessimism, even when we call it “realism,” will kill us. Embracing all the possiblities in this world may not save us, but it will make what time we have a LOT more fun.
Now, Clarke’s Second Law goes, “The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.”
Now, maybe you don’t really care about the limits of the possible. Maybe you’d rather find a comfortable corner, well away from the edges of what could be, sit down, and let your life play out. Maybe, but I don’t think so.
You see, you have all been called as disciples of Christ, the one who showed us all that there is no such thing as impossible when it comes to God’s love. You are apostles, all of you, sent out to be Christ’s hands and arms in the world, reaching out even to people you don’t like or have never met.
The magi didn’t just sit in a comfortable corner and watch the pretty star. They knew what it meant and they ventured past the possible, going to a foreign land they did not know, even starting their search in the wrong city. They follow a star, which is improbable enough, then see it hover above a stable, which is almost literally impossible. They brought gifts to a king who, for all they knew, was allergic to myrrh, and gave them to a baby who looked less like the manifestation of a god than the sheep in the next stall.
We at Northminster eat the impossible for lunch. We’re so use to venturing into the impossible that it’s practically second nature. We’ve survived horrible tragic deaths, 100-year floods, devastating hurricanes, economic downturns, and even pastor searches with fewer people than you need to field a professional football team, and we’ve come through with a better sense of community and purpose, a better witness to the wonder of God’s reign, than churches 50 times our size.
If you’re visiting here today, and considering joining us, then it’s probably good that you know this from the start. This is not a church where we sit back and listen to the nice sermons, sing the comfortable songs, and spend the rest of the week acting like Sunday doesn’t matter. This is a church that is a community of disciples of Christ dedicated to proclaiming Jesus Christ, trusting in God alone, strengthening one another, and serving God’s people everywhere. We do those things at the risk of our life. If that’s not what you want in a church, then this is not the church for you.
This is a kind of church that most people think is impossible. We don’t all agree politically. We don’t always like each other. We struggle financially most of the time, and when we very occasionally get a break and we get a windfall or whatever, we give it away, and don’t sock it away for a rainy day because nowhere in our mission statement does it say we exist to make things easy on the treasurer.
I think this is just the kind of church most people would belong to, if they only knew it were possible. I think most people are longing to see just what God can do in the world. They’re longing to see the kind of impossible things we have all been witness to. They stay home and watch the guys laughing at each other on the pre-game shows because they’ve become convinced that there is no such community as this.
They want a meaningful life, but everything around them says that’s not possible, so they might as well try for a comfortable life.
We need to somehow get them to push pass the possible into the impossible.
Clarke’s Third Law is “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
This is the most famous of the three laws, and often is seen as an attack on the miraculous. I see it otherwise. I think it says that there is no difference between magic and a combination of hard work, careful thought, and inspiration. (That’s all advanced technology is.)
There is nothing insurmountable stopping us. There is no monster all that terrible barring our path. Christ loves us and nothing else matters. Death holds no hold on us, neither does the tyranny of the impossible.
I’m not saying we don’t have a lot of hard work ahead. We do.
And don’t tell me you’re tired. We’re all tired. Being tired for a good reason is a blessing. Rest, Sabbath, is vitally important, but that commandment also says that for six days you will labor.
Start something. Give something. Listen to someone. Look at someone. Do something not because it’s what you want to do, but because it’s what someone else wants to do. Get out of your comfort zone and venture a little into what you think is the impossible, because you’re probably wrong.
It might not work. Some things are impossible.
I’m not guaranteeing that our church will be together next year. It might not. We don’t get guarantees. Not in anything.
We get something else.
Because Christ is born, we get possibilities.
The Bible text was Matthew 2:1-12.
The Possible
Many of us, maybe even all of us, live in a tyranny of the impossible. We talk endlessly about what we can’t do, what we’re just no good at, what doesn’t ever happen in the “real world.” We may not laugh at people’s dreams, but we’re always quick with the cold water of what we think of as reality.
We imagine ourselves “realists.” The world isn’t all “Kum Ba Yah,” we say. Imagination, creativity, and dreaming may be great and all, but it doesn’t pay the bills. Get your head out of the clouds.
The thing is, the “realists,” even the “realists” in ourselves, are wrong. Some things are impossible, but there are fewer of them than any of us realize. This is not a world where the possible fills in the cracks of the impossible. This is a world where the impossible forms a thin frame around the possible.
Sir Arthur Charles Clarke was a science fiction writer most famous for writing the book version of the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey and widely credited with inventing the concept of the communication satellite. In a 1962 essay titled “Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of Imagination”, Sir Arthur put forth a set of assertions now known as “Clarke’s Laws.”
The first one goes something like: “When someone tells you that something is possible, they’re probably right. When they tell you something is impossible, they’re probably wrong.”
There are more possibilities in the world than any of us can grasp.
Imagine one of the magi, seeing a new star in the sky. A new star, even if that star is just a comet, is a very rare event, so he must have checked and double checked his tables, his prophecies. He must have asked his fellow magi for confirmation.
What makes this particular star very strange is where it seems to have risen. Matthew says the magi came from the east. They were travelling west. Travelling west after seeing the new star rise. Matthew doesn’t just come out and say it, but it seems that maybe the new star rose in the western sky. The western sky. Where the sun, the moon, and every star sets because that’s the way the earth turns.
A new star rising in the west is not just rare. It’s impossible.
But maybe we’re reading too much into it. Maybe the tables and prophecies of these eastern magi only indicated that when a new star forms in this particular constellation to take note.
Even so, there’s something very strange here. An infant king whose birth is heralded even by the stars in the heavens is no ordinary king. This was a manifestation of a god. It’s the kind of thing people said about Caesar, ruler of Rome and wielder of the power of gods, not some baby from the boonies. The “King of Israel” wore his crown only because Caesar thought it was a good idea. No one, not even Herod, thought he was a manifestation of a god, much less a manifestation of the God of Israel.
This star heralding a king of Israel was crazy talk, and the magi must have known it. It was impossible that such a thing could happen.
Were they bound by the impossible, the magi would have stayed home, and chalked the whole bizarre thing up to “one of those things.” Were they bound by the impossible, the early Christians would have never continued following a man who had been killed by the powerful. Were we bound by the impossible, we at Northminster wouldn’t even be here, never mind all the things we have done over the past few years, like starting and growing our capital fund, or forming this new Wednesday night thing or putting together our own youth trips to Montreat when much larger churches didn’t even attempt anything so brash.
It is at our peril that we succomb to the tyranny of the impossible. Pessimism, even when we call it “realism,” will kill us. Embracing all the possiblities in this world may not save us, but it will make what time we have a LOT more fun.
And Jesus said, “Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
When the disciples heard this, they were very astonished and said, "Then who can be saved?"
And looking at them Jesus said to them, "With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
Now, Clarke’s Second Law goes, “The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.”
Now, maybe you don’t really care about the limits of the possible. Maybe you’d rather find a comfortable corner, well away from the edges of what could be, sit down, and let your life play out. Maybe, but I don’t think so.
You see, you have all been called as disciples of Christ, the one who showed us all that there is no such thing as impossible when it comes to God’s love. You are apostles, all of you, sent out to be Christ’s hands and arms in the world, reaching out even to people you don’t like or have never met.
The magi didn’t just sit in a comfortable corner and watch the pretty star. They knew what it meant and they ventured past the possible, going to a foreign land they did not know, even starting their search in the wrong city. They follow a star, which is improbable enough, then see it hover above a stable, which is almost literally impossible. They brought gifts to a king who, for all they knew, was allergic to myrrh, and gave them to a baby who looked less like the manifestation of a god than the sheep in the next stall.
We at Northminster eat the impossible for lunch. We’re so use to venturing into the impossible that it’s practically second nature. We’ve survived horrible tragic deaths, 100-year floods, devastating hurricanes, economic downturns, and even pastor searches with fewer people than you need to field a professional football team, and we’ve come through with a better sense of community and purpose, a better witness to the wonder of God’s reign, than churches 50 times our size.
If you’re visiting here today, and considering joining us, then it’s probably good that you know this from the start. This is not a church where we sit back and listen to the nice sermons, sing the comfortable songs, and spend the rest of the week acting like Sunday doesn’t matter. This is a church that is a community of disciples of Christ dedicated to proclaiming Jesus Christ, trusting in God alone, strengthening one another, and serving God’s people everywhere. We do those things at the risk of our life. If that’s not what you want in a church, then this is not the church for you.
This is a kind of church that most people think is impossible. We don’t all agree politically. We don’t always like each other. We struggle financially most of the time, and when we very occasionally get a break and we get a windfall or whatever, we give it away, and don’t sock it away for a rainy day because nowhere in our mission statement does it say we exist to make things easy on the treasurer.
I think this is just the kind of church most people would belong to, if they only knew it were possible. I think most people are longing to see just what God can do in the world. They’re longing to see the kind of impossible things we have all been witness to. They stay home and watch the guys laughing at each other on the pre-game shows because they’ve become convinced that there is no such community as this.
They want a meaningful life, but everything around them says that’s not possible, so they might as well try for a comfortable life.
We need to somehow get them to push pass the possible into the impossible.
Clarke’s Third Law is “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
This is the most famous of the three laws, and often is seen as an attack on the miraculous. I see it otherwise. I think it says that there is no difference between magic and a combination of hard work, careful thought, and inspiration. (That’s all advanced technology is.)
There is nothing insurmountable stopping us. There is no monster all that terrible barring our path. Christ loves us and nothing else matters. Death holds no hold on us, neither does the tyranny of the impossible.
I’m not saying we don’t have a lot of hard work ahead. We do.
And don’t tell me you’re tired. We’re all tired. Being tired for a good reason is a blessing. Rest, Sabbath, is vitally important, but that commandment also says that for six days you will labor.
Start something. Give something. Listen to someone. Look at someone. Do something not because it’s what you want to do, but because it’s what someone else wants to do. Get out of your comfort zone and venture a little into what you think is the impossible, because you’re probably wrong.
It might not work. Some things are impossible.
I’m not guaranteeing that our church will be together next year. It might not. We don’t get guarantees. Not in anything.
We get something else.
Because Christ is born, we get possibilities.
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