Can Chunk See the Kingdom?

Late Gen-Xers and early Millennials have at least one thing in common: we love "The Goonies"! Whether you were old enough as a Gen-Xer to see it in the theater like me, or you saw it on VHS with other Millennials, we all hold a special place in our heart for Chunk, the lovable roly-poly kid who couldn't shut his mouth even when his life depended on it. Scared out of his wits when captured by the evil Frittelli family bandits who want to find the hidden treasure, Chunk tells them everything -- starting when he was in the third grade:

In third grade I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade I stole my Uncle Max's toupee, and I glued it on my face when I played Moses in my Hebrew school play. In fifth grade I knocked Mike Cisterini down the stairs, but I blamed it on my dog . . .

But the worst thing I ever done, I took a bucket of fake puke from home. Then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony, and then . . . then I made a noise like this: huah, hewaaaagh, hewaaaaaaaaaaaaagh. And then I dumped it over the side, on all the people in the audience. Then . . . th-then this was horrible. All the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.

Whenever I see this scene, I feel awful. Guilty. Shameful. Because it reminds me of my own "Chunk-moment" in life.

The church I grew up in held an Easter egg scramble every year for the Sunday School kids. For a little kid, this was the coolest day at church ever. But for older students, the booty failed to impress us, so we looked forward to the day when we'd be in junior high and able to help set up the scramble. I took this responsibility very seriously at first -- doing my best to place the eggs strategically. But one year temptation got the better of me.

Just on the other side of the ribbon marking of the boundary, was a chunk of dog poop. Always quick to show off to my friends for an easy laugh, I ate the piece of candy from one of the pink plastic eggs, scooped up the chunk into the egg, and placed it in an enticing spot in the sixth graders' area. Then we watched with muffled laughter to see who the lucky winner would be.

I thought I was the greatest comic genius alive . . . until I watched an excited boy innocently pick up the pink pill of poop and place it in his poke. (That's Pittsburghese for brown paper bag.) At that moment, I felt guilt hit me in the stomach. As Chunk says in "The Goonies", "I never felt so bad in my entire life." As soon as I could slip out of sight, I ran to find the boy. I caught up to him moments before worship was to begin. I told him what I had done, and warned him to open his plastic eggs very carefully. To my shame, I cannot recall if I even apologized to the boy. But I know he did not absolve me of my sin. How could he? He just stood motionless, looking at me with shock and confusion.

As I grew up and discerned a call to ordained ministry, I thought I knew what Jesus was talking about in Luke 4:24, "no prophet is accepted in the prophet's hometown." Of course not, I reasoned. People from my hometown know me too well -- the real me, a side of me that most people in my adult years thankfully never see. How could I ever go back there as someone with a public vocation as a pastor, a discipleship coach, a church leader?

I figured that Jesus must have had this in mind when he returned to his hometown of Nazareth and spoke these words to the village that helped to raise him. I know the Bible says he's without sin, but he was a human boy and adolescent after all. Surely he must have some shameful skeletons in his closet that are out of the public's eye but known to those closest to him.

But over the past few years, I have begun to rethink what Jesus meant by this saying. Every time I go back and visit my hometown, and every time I speak with people now who knew me then as an awkward adolescent, I experience God's grace profoundly. These are good people, loving people. Yes, they know the stupid and mean things I did. But that's not how they see me now, because that's not even how they saw me then. They saw a young boy who needed the love of his church family to help him grow in awareness of God's grip on his life.

So I doubt Jesus felt that the Nazarenes did not honor him because they knew the "real Jesus" the public never saw. In fact, the scripture says that they spoke well of him. He told them that the coming of the messiah, who would usher in God's kingdom as foretold by the prophet Isaiah, had been fulfilled in their presence. They were amazed and asked one another, "Is not this Joseph's son?" Their question is not doubting Jesus, as I had assumed for so long (I come from a tribe of Christianity with a lot of Jew-bashing in our past, which sometimes goes unnoticed in its more subtle forms). Rather, their question praises Jesus, as in: "Is this not Joseph's son whom we helped to raise and teach? Yet his gracious words surpass anything he picked up from us. Could he be God's anointed messiah?"

This explains why Jesus goes off on them -- not because they doubted him, but because they got it pretty close. Every time a new baby boy was born to a Jewish mother, the family and townspeople would celebrate, because maybe -- just maybe -- this boy would grow up to be the messiah. Could their dreams have come true? If so, then they could expect the things Jesus just told them were fulfilled: good news to the poor, release of captives, the blind gain sight, and the oppressed are liberated.

So Jesus puts on the brakes. Someone with better stage presence would have known to take a bow and quit while he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. But not Jesus. Not this messiah. "Whoah, people. Don't get carried away. Keep in mind that all widows experienced the hardship of famine in Elijah's time, but God only sent him to one widow in Sidon. And remember that lots of people had leprosy in the time of Elisha, but he cured only Naaman the Syrian." Neither of these people belonged to God's chosen people, the Israelites. The prophets were enacting a message of judgment upon Israel.

What Jesus is saying here is, "I'm the messiah who is to judge God's people." The Nazarenes are excited at first, because they assumed they are about to see God's kingdom. But just like earlier in Luke when John tells his audience not to take refuge in the fact they are children of Abraham because God can turn rocks into children of Abraham, likewise Jesus is saying, "Don't think you are automatically in the kingdom just because you happen to be the children of Abraham whose prodigy is the messiah."

My NRSV Harper Collins Study Bible puts a subtitle before this story in Luke that reads "The rejection of Jesus at Nazareth." But really the Nazarenes didn't reject Jesus, (especially not because they thought he was pridefully raising himself up above his roots -- again, my tribe called German Lutherans have an innate humility gene). Instead, Jesus rejected their presumption to have a right to the kingdom. This is what enraged them and made them try to throw him off the cliff. "How dare he tell us we have no right to God's kingdom!!!"

Sorry folks, no one has a right to it. Not even Jesus' own immediate family. Scripture tells us that once when they tried to come to him, he prevented them saying "those who do the will of God are my mother and my brothers."

"But I believe in Jesus," you may say. "I've invited him to be my personal savior!" Or, if you're a good Lutheran, you may say, "But I'm baptized!" Well, you're right. If what that means to you is that you're going to heaven after you die so you don't have to do the church thing after confirmation, then so be it. In your baptism, God has promised never to give up on you, always to be faithful to you, even beyond the power of death.

But why wait until death to experience God's kingdom when your baptism calls you and gifts you with Holy Spirit to experience God's kingdom now 24/7/365!?! Kids and teens, if your parents told you that once you finish confirmation you don't have to do the church thing anymore, they're selling you short. Parents, if you told your kids this, it's not too late to take it back and make them do the church thing. Being an adult in the church, doesn't mean being free to decide against doing the church thing. Being an adult in the church means being freed by our messiah to follow him in his community so we too may see God's kingdom 24/7/365.

This is what coaching discipleship is all about. It took a family in partnership with their village to raise the messiah, and it takes families in partnership with their church to raise his disciples. Our baptism invites us into a life of discipleship, but it doesn't guarantee that we'll actually be disciples. Jesus says those who follow him by doing God's will are his family, are the ones who are witnessing the kingdom of God already in our midst. Those who think they already have a right to God's kingdom are missing out.

That doesn't mean you have to be perfect. Heavens no. Jesus came not for the righteous but to call sinners. Take it from one who knows sin -- one who would stain the celebration of Easter with a stinking practical joke. My mean spirited assault on the faith of an unsuspecting boy did not banish me beyond God's kingdom. But I would never have come to realize that, if it wasn't for my connection to my church family well beyond my confirmation years. I have come to know God's grace because my family makes sure the church is always a part of our home, and because my church makes sure I am always a part of their family.

For our kids to be disciples, who strive to do God's will and seek God's kingdom here and now, they need their parents to keep them connected to their church, and they need each of us in their church to make them fully a part of our family. But if we're going to be content with youth choosing to step away from the church thing after confirmation, if we're going to encourage them to rely on their baptism as their right to God's kingdom, then don't be surprised when Jesus passes through their midst and goes on his way, just like he did in Nazareth.

With a heavy heart in the presence of our our living messiah, I feel this is our church's "Chunk-moment." We all have our "Chunk-moments" in life. For some of us, our "Chunk-moment" may be a youthful regret that sullies our conscience. For some of us, our "Chunk-moment" may be not embracing our young ones into the full worship life and mission of our church family. Still for some of us, our "Chunk-moment" may be having told our kids that they can stop doing the church thing after confirmation if they so choose.

But our "Chunk-moments" don't have to petrify us as if we are banished beyond God's kingdom. God frees us for discipleship. We don't always do God's will, but when youth, parents, and all adults in our church stay connected and committed to raising up disciples of Jesus, we are likely to hear again and again God's word of grace first spoken to us in our baptism. This promise assures us that God is faithful to us, never giving up on us, that through our participation in church we will grow in our awareness of Jesus leading us in our lives 24/7/365.