Sermons

“Longing for Belonging"



“Longing for Belonging”

Noel K. Anderson

First Presbyterian Church of Upland

Text: Revelation 21: 1-4

1 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his people,

and God himself will be with them;

4 he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.Ӡ


[Video: The Empathic Civilization by Jeremy Rifkin]

An Earth-shattering Find

We were wrong about power

Christmas week—the most sacred secularized holiday of the year—wherein we extend our empathy and kindness to include more people than we usually would, say in October of an election year. We’ve been talking about home—its importance to the human heart and how central it is to our repentance. Today, we’re going to look at empathy, the longing for belonging, and its importance to us and to world civilization. 

Experiments on macaque monkeys reveal that primates are soft-wired for empathy—feeling what others feel—initiating new research which has concluded something terribly significant: human beings are soft-wired not so much for aggression, violence, and self-preservation, but sociability, attachment, affection, and companionship. Our first drive is to belong. This is utterly earth-shattering. 

For roughly 150 years, the Modern World (driven by the West) has operated entirely under another assumption; namely, that human beings are soft-wired for power above all else. Modernism says, “Power is everything.” 

I’m going to offer four names, each of which represents a full tree of thinking that you and I have inherited. It makes up what we have called knowledge in the West for the past 150 years or so, and it stands at the heart of academia, business institutions, and government. It has shaped the modern worldview and is at the heart of most of our popular assumptions. What is more, it is all wrong. Certainly, it is incomplete. 

The POWER World

Charles Darwin and Friedrich Nietzche

The idea that the basic human drive is for power is overwhelmingly evident in the present political landscape. The anger, aggression, self-interest, and violence all fill the daily news cycle. The core assumption is that humankind is all about power—self-empowerment—and doing whatever is possible to hold and keep that power for oneself, one’s family, and one’s tribe, whatever that may be. 

This is the assumption behind both racism and anti-racism, sexism and feminism, sexual and gender politics, border politics, and every war ever fought. All politics is the politics of power. 

It goes back to the first name in the Modern Rogues Gallery: Charles Darwin. Darwin saw all species, including human beings—as highly-complicated biological organisms designed to serve their own survival. Don’t you love being called “a complicated biological organism”? Can you imagine that in a love letter? “My dear, you are a complicated biological organism inducing within this complicated biological organism the compelling desire to reproduce our DNA.” ’Tis like Shakespeare!

From Darwin, we have the hard idea that this world is one big jungle. It is dog-eat-dog survivalism, and only the strong and fit survive; therefore, we exist in fundamental enmity—struggle and competition—for our survival. Or, simply put, it’s all about power, and the complicated, biological organisms known as human beings are primarily motivated to secure power for themselves so that they can survive and reproduce their DNA at the expense of others.

But Darwin is just one. Add the philosopher Friedrich Nietzche, who, building on Darwin, said that there are no absolutes, no truth, and no purpose—there is only what you and your tribe agree upon. There is nothing of any real value, but only what you and your tribe agree to be valuable. There is no truth, just acceptable currency—the legal tender of ideas, assumptions, and values. 

It’s exactly like the art world. You may have heard the story of Julian Schnabel. Schnabel, a would-be artist, was waiting tables in a New York restaurant. His boss let him take home broken plates, and he incorporated these into his paintings, by which I mean he stuck broken plate pieces into the paint of his canvasses. His boss let him put up his broken plate “paintings” on the restaurant’s blank walls.  

One evening, a couple came in—they were the owners of perhaps the most prestigious art studio in  New York. They ordered dinner. Julian Schnabel was their waiter. They asked him about the paintings, “Who did these?” He answered, “The greatest, undiscovered artist in the world—me!” The couple was charmed and bought up all the paintings for thousands of dollars. Immediately, every wannabe gallery owner in the city had to have a Schnabel, and the value of his paintings increased a thousand-fold overnight. 

What’s the actual value of a Schnabel painting? Who is to say? The canvas, paint, and broken plates may add up to perhaps 100 dollars’ worth of material, but the selling price was quickly over $30,000 per canvas. 

Nietzche tells us that all truth and value work precisely the same way. There is no real value, just the value that the community projects onto it. And the ones who hold power get to say what is true and what is not—what has value and what does not. We’ve been living with the outgrowth of this ever since—a philosophy that says it’s all about power, and truth is just a word people use to hold power over others.

Those who have the power control the narrative; history is written by the victors. The drive for power battles for information, twisting it—even propagandizing it—to keep and hold power. Again, if you assume there is no absolute truth, there is only a power struggle to control the tribal narrative. Who defines reality? Whoever leads, and them that’s got the gold makes the rules. 

History is POWER

Karl Marx and Sigmund Freud

Enter Karl Marx, who reduced humankind to competing classes. For Marx, history is just an ongoing power clash between the haves and the have nots—the oppressors and the oppressed. His contribution to the modern era remains powerfully evident wherever you see people gang up and blame the wealthy or the well-empowered. The Church has carried this torch because we tend to side with the poor, the oppressed, and the outcast. We are also quick to acknowledge the evils of mammon—money and earthly power. 

Marxism seeks to invert power and create little revolutions by which the poor become rich, the oppressed become new oppressors, and the outcasts become the new elite club that excludes others. His solution is a classless society with no personal property of any kind. Both Russia and China are still attempting to implement communism, but neither has succeeded, rather defaulting to a kind of state tyranny. 

The Church, in contrast, seeks to give the poor what they need, suffer with the oppressed and welcome the outcasts. For the Church, it’s love, not politics. 


Fourthly, batting clean-up is Sigmund Freud, the Father of modern psychology. A brilliant man, Freud, like Nietzche, said the human being is primarily soft-wired for gratification. This amounts to power because power enables gratification. If you have power, you can afford all manner of self-gratification. 

Freud says the human being is a hungry, empty hole looking to be filled—a ravenous animal with a thin veneer of good manners at the surface. The human brain is soft-wired to seek power for one’s own gratification. 

Not only individuals, but civilization itself is an outgrowth of swarms of humanity seeking self-gratification. This has given us 140 years of seeing our life together as an otherwise pointless competition—a futile game of king-of-the-hill—a glorified rat race. Self-interest alone drives humankind, and if anyone does good, it is only because they have sufficiently cared for themselves first and may have a little leftover to help others. 

It’s a bit bleak, but it’s modernism with a capital M. 

Worldview of God-haters

The one ring to bind them all

Can I mention one other thing about the Rogue’s Gallery? Aside from Darwin (he’s debatable), Nietzche, Marx, and Freud all hated God. It’s too kind—too gentle—to say they didn’t believe in God. No, they hated Him, and they despised Christ and Christianity. Together, they are the prime architects of the Modern World, the Modern Mind, and the contemporary worldview. Probe the mindset of any atheist, and you’re guaranteed to find their footing on one or more of these bases. 

But our little video about monkeys and the legitimate scientific research it represents tells us a different story. It says Darwin, Nietzche, Marx, and Freud were all wrong about humankind. We were not, as they supposed, soft-wired primarily for power, but rather we are soft-wired for belonging. We long to belong before we long for power, aggression, and survival. 

We all need to belong—our brains are designed for empathy, not aggression. It is today a proven fact; all the subsequent research confirms it. 

Christian people, we know that we are here for love—love of everyone, even our enemies. God has wired us for love and all the talk of power and empowerment, this group and that group, haves or have nots, my needs versus your needs—has us in perpetual, political deadlock—a century of stalemate, non-solutions. We’re either demanding too much or refusing to settle—either way, we are not at peace as long as power is at the center of our discussions and worldview. 

Correcting Modernism

An Empathic Civilization

So imagine with me what the world may become as a result of these findings—of the knowledge that humankind is not power-based but belonging-based. What will things look like once the truth sinks in and takes effect, perhaps decades from today? 

For 150 years, we’ve told people that they are all about power, so what else would they seek? If you tell people that they are all about self-gratification, they’ll make self-gratification their spiritual quest. But if we tell people, rightly, that they are about empathy—that the complex biological organisms that are human beings—are made to care for others, how differently would they grow to look? 

What would America be like were we to replace the politics of power with a new politics of belonging? Start there: everyone needs to belong somewhere. If we were to think of our families, tribes, and nation regarding the need for belonging, how different would our political landscape look? Because that is where it is going as soon as we outgrow the old modernist assumptions and worldview. 

Think of how the longing to belong works: we all need a family to belong to—even if it isn’t a biological family. Why else do young men join street gangs? Fraternities, sororities, alumni associations, country clubs, churches, political parties, fan clubs, hobby groups, Facebook pages—all are ways of belonging and vehicles for extending our empathy. 

Empathy overcomes division—overcomes differences in race, sex, and political orientation. America’s patriotism is a kind of belonging. Every American belongs to America, and we belong to each other. We all have friends on the opposite side of political ideas, opposite sex, opposite attitudes, and we should. But our empathy doesn’t stop at our borders—we find room to care and feel for people around the globe from every nation. 

When empathy takes center stage, we outgrow self-gratification and come to feel for any and all in need, whatever their background, whatever their reason. When all belong, there are no outcasts, no exclusive insiders, because we are all needed, and every one is precious to God. 

We don’t need to divide into competing classes, races, or sexes because we see ourselves as the diverse brothers and sisters of a complex family. 

The basic competitions—man against man, man against nature—give way to cooperation in maturity. We will no longer conquer others or conquer nature because we will be figuring out how to get along instead. We will leave the dog-eat-dog jungle for a new home and new ways of dealing with other human beings. 

Be clear: it’s not Utopia. We still need defense, police, and governments to regulate society. Aggression and greed will not be gone, but they will no longer be the central driver of civilization. We will always need to evaluate risks and will always differ over possible solutions to every issue, but if power and aggression are not central to our self-understanding, our daily conversations will be very different. 

I’m saying we are heading that way, though it may take another 150 years to catch up with the science. But the news is out there—Darwin, Nietzche, Freud, and Marx were mostly wrong because they built their castles on sand which will in time erode. Our great, great-grandchildren will look back at the 20th century the way we look back at those who thought the earth was flat and that the sun, moon, and stars passed  through the sky. 

The Promise of Scripture

Revelation 21: 1-4

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his people,

and God himself will be with them;

4 he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.” 

The promise of Scripture—what we call prophecy—is the revelation of our final state. It is God’s promise of where we are headed. The calling of the Church is to demonstrate that destiny and seek that kingdom, ever helping our world to align with its final state. 

We know where it’s all headed and we know that Christ is there, with us, reassuring us that we belong because we were made to belong. 

We belong to Him and to each other. Let that be the center of all of our thinking and self-understanding because Christmas is coming!.


Questions

  1. What are some predictable outcomes from people and people groups who see the world in terms of power? 
  2. Where do we get the idea “the world is a jungle”? What attitudes are spawned by that assumption?
  3. If God is not real, then who plays God?
  4. What are the end results of 19th-century “Progress”?
  5. Who are among the chief architects of the Modern Worldview?
  6. What single factor do the Founders of Modernism hold in common? 
  7. What would be different about a world wherein empathy is more important than power? 
  8. What role can Christians play in transforming American Culture? 
  9. How does God’s promise of a “new heaven and earth” shape our Christian worldview?

“I’ll be Home for Christmas"


“I’ll be Home for Christmas”

Noel K. Anderson

First Presbyterian Church of Upland

Text: Luke 15: 11-19

Repentance & Conversion

Change your mind

Last week as we talked about the Second Coming, we noted how the ongoing role of the Church is to call the world to repentance or conversion.  This isn’t just trying to get people to say the Jesus prayer, but rather to live righteous lives. The call is to turn away from sin and darkness and turn toward the light of God in all things. 

To be clear, repenting doesn’t make us righteous. Repentance is not a “good work” to secure our salvation but rather a response to the good news of God’s promises in Christ. There’s a vast difference between those two things, and we must get them right. So-called religious people imagine that by straightening themselves out and pursuing good behavior, they earn—or become deserving of—God’s favor. This doesn’t seem right. The steering wheel is not in our hands when it comes to righteousness. We don’t earn God’s favor, nor can we ever deserve it. Doing good and hating evil is not a strategy to secure God’s favor, and we should not think of it that way. Instead, repentance or conversion is entirely a response to the good news of our salvation in Christ. We turn from living for ourselves to living for Christ, and we do so in gratitude for the good he does on our behalf.   We are all in the process of conversion from worldly, self-serving egotism to heavenly—even Christlike—love. 

I’ll remind you that the biblical word is metanoia, which means both repent and convert. All the biblical calls to repentance are calls to metanoia. All talk of conversion or converting is the same metanoia. Most literally, metanoia means “transformed mind,” which fits in well with Romans 12: 2:

 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

This is Paul’s call to repentance—his call to conversion. It is a calling to change one’s mind. What could be simpler? And what could be more complicated? 

Mind Changing

Now a leading cause of taking offense

Right now, as we look at the culture around us, we see a hardened polarization of perspectives and worldviews. Political extremes grow more extreme; people are far more easily offended by the slightest of slights and speedy to litigate their vengeance. You can now be sued for using the wrong pronoun. 

As a former English major, I would have loved the idea of fining people for atrocious abuses of language, but in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined today’s landscape. 

It may be harder today than ever to try and change someone else’s mind. It’s difficult because people refuse to distinguish between opinions and identity. To question someone else’s thinking is now tantamount to insulting their identity. The call to repentance —to think differently about oneself and the world—could soon be criticized as a violation against another’s personal autonomy.  “I’m so offended that you disagree with me that I’m going to sue you for abuse!” 

Is the call to repentance offensive? Perhaps it is—especially when it is done right—because neither the truth nor the gospel accommodate themselves to our personal preferences. It does not and cannot be changed to fit us; we must change to accommodate it. Minds must be changed. The call to conversion must go on unabated. 

It’s one thing to dislike the Church—Christians, and preachers—because they are hypocritical. It’s another thing to dislike them because they expect people to change their minds, hearts, and lives. People hate repentance because they don’t want to change—they hate any change of which they are not the author—but that is the crucial point: we are not the author, God is, and the sooner we wake up to that fact, the sooner we can live as we are designed and intended to live. 

Repentance is not just about feeling bad about sins—that’s really the least of it—it’s more about what we do after we are done feeling bad about our sins, namely, turning toward home.

The Prodigal Son Repents

“he came to himself”

The perfect image of repentance comes from Christ Himself in the parable of the Prodigal Son. In this story, we see repentance as a turning toward home. 

In the story, the younger of the two sons seems to be hating his life. He’s sick of work, sick of his older brother, and dying for some adventure. In an act of unsurpassable nerve, he goes to his father and says, “You know Dad, someday you’re going to die, and then I’ll get my inheritance. Well, I’m sick of waiting. Could you give me now what I’m likely to receive when you die?” In not so many words, he’s saying, “I wish you were dead so I could have your money, so could I just have the money anyway?” 

The stranger thing is that the father agrees. He counts up his net worth and pays it to his two sons. 

The younger son takes his inheritance—effectively disowning his family—and heads to the ancient equivalent of Las Vegas. He fools around for a few months, and while he’s still up on his game, he invests heavily in a pyramid scheme. Soon everything is gone. In his own strength, he is ruined.

Does he come to his senses? Does he say, “Wow, I’ve really blown it—I’ll go home to Dad and start over.” No, not yet. Apparently, he still had lots of pride working. So he hires himself out to a Gentile. To make it worse, he has to feed the pigs. Even worse, he envies the pigs for the slop they’re eating. This is the ultimate bottoming out for a Jew—willingly making himself a slave to pigs. 

And then we get this great and simple phrase in verse 17:  “he came to himself.”  How does this happen? He awoke to his situation in a flash and took back control of his life. Hunger and misery brought him to the end of himself. As soon as he was there, he realized it wasn’t the end at all—just the end of his foolishness. 

“My father’s ranch hands—though lowly—eat well. I will go back and live—not in the house—but the bunkhouse or barn. Even at the bottom rung, my life will be okay.”

 This is humility: to “come to oneself” is to come to the end of oneself. The end of pride, the end of ego, and the end of self-absorption. He would go back on his knees, never expecting to be restored as a son, but to live well-enough as the bottom dweller of the household totem pole. He plans to say: 

 “Father, I have sinned against heaven and you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” —v. 18b

He leaves the pigs and turns toward home. This is repentance—turning toward our true home. This is a good way for us to think about repentance. Was he really sorry for his sins? Unknown, perhaps irrelevant. Is he only turning back because he was broke and hungry? Maybe, but apparently, that’s okay because it was good enough for his father. 

Someone is thinking, “But something seems wrong here—shouldn’t repentance be about deep sorrow over our sinfulness? Doesn’t he have to show some kind of deep remorse for having insulted his family and offending his father?”  What exactly is it in us that wants to see this—this morose groveling over sin? 

Most of the Church’s literature about repentance focuses on this psychological aspect—this consuming contrition for sin—but we don’t see it anywhere in Jesus’ own parable to illustrate repentance. It is enough—everything—that the son heads home in the right state of mind. 

To repent is to have a transformed, changed mind. 

Turning Toward Home

I’ll be home for Christmas

While there is sorrow over our sin at the heart of repentance, there is something else more important: that longing for home that draws the human spirit. While feeding the pigs, what was on the younger son’s mind? How did his hated family and home appear in his mind then? A comfortable house, a big table with plenty of food, laughter with his older brother, his father’s love—we know exactly how it looked; it looked like Heaven. In the end, the longing for home—even in the bunkhouse at lowest rung—drew him. 

I want to share what must be my most powerful longing for home moment. I hope in sharing it that you find something similar that resonates for you.  

First semester freshman year of college—my home was in Omaha, and Gonzaga is in Spokane, Washington—a distance of 1,377 miles. I had never been further from home and never longer than a week at camp. The lessons were many, but Spokane was very snowy as we made it into that first December. There was a foot of snow on the ground by December 5th.  Funny thing about Gonzaga: its most famous alum isn’t a brilliant scholar, gifted writer, or renowned athlete—but rather a musician who dropped out after two years. Bing Crosby. 

Like any college campus, you could hear music pumping out of the dorm windows at about any time of the day or night. It was lots of Van Halen, Talking Heads, and the tail end of Led Zeppelin in my era. But at Gonzaga, in December, everybody played Bing. That’s right—the metalheads, the cowboys, the artists, and the teenyboppers—all set aside their standard fare for Bing Crosby. One song, in particular, got to me. You see, my Dad and his twin brother went to Gonzaga—they played basketball and tennis. They were graduates number one and two of the first class to graduate from the School of Engineering. 1939. Then they went to war in World War II. On those snowy nights in December, I imagined my father in December of 1943 trudging through the deep snow in France, wondering whether he would ever see home again.  I trudged through the snow, worried over upcoming finals and final papers now due. 

The song is “I’ll be Home for Christmas,” and it is sung from the point of view of a soldier at war. The melodic longing of a man stuck far away from home and hoping (though not optimistically) to return for Christmas spoke not only to the soldiers serving on the front lines but their loved ones on the home front as well. My father must have had that song in his head in December of ’44, and it was in my head nonstop the December of ’78.  I missed home. I missed my parents and longed for home and family with homesickness I had never known before. 

Home—the house in Omaha—was like Heaven to me. I was going to see my family, hang out with my old friends, and eat, drink, and be merry until I had to return for the second semester. I was living for home. I struggled through finals, pulling all-nighter writing binges—all fueled by the thought and longing for home. 

The snows kept falling and picked off one final after another. I was going to be flying home—the first time I’d been on a plane—and when I went to the airport, all flights were canceled. I was stuck in the Spokane airport dreaming of home, longing for home. “I’ll be home for Christmas,” I thought, “if only in my dreams.” I did make it home, albeit two days late, and it was, perhaps, the greatest Christmas ever. 

To long for home and to feel eager to return is the picture of repentance Jesus gives us. Home is where we are loved, whether we deserve it or not. Home is the place we belong despite our shortcomings and imperfections. Home is where love rules. Home is the place of full refrigerators and a sparkling, welcoming dining room table. Thick, creamy eggnog, sticky cinnamon rolls, a big Christmas tree glimmering with lights and tinsel, a fire in the fireplace, and friends showing up at the door to say hello. Fifteen inches of cold snow outside; hot cocoa and Christmas music inside. 

Home: rest, reassurance, healing, wholeness. 

The Home Attitude

Despite the wind, we’re headed for home

One final image of repentance. Pilots of planes or spacecraft have a great term we should all know and use: attitude. Flight attitude is one’s orientation toward the horizon. The wind may be blowing the plane sideways, but the attitude is the corrections of pitch, roll, and yaw relative to the horizon. 

It doesn’t matter how hard the wind is blowing—our attitude points us home. 

Repentance is more than a changed mind; it is a re-oriented attitude. A new spot on the horizon shapes our focus, attention, and service. 

The Christian life is not about making ourselves righteous. Again, when we repent, we are not establishing a good relationship between ourselves and God, but rather we are responding to what God has done in Christ to redeem our relationship with Him. What we do is make daily attitude adjustments, focused as we are on the horizon, where our true home is. 

And, as with our earthly homes at Christmas, there is a table there at which Christ Himself presides. All of our souls’ longings and joys are fed and satisfied there. This table is a glimpse—a pale foretaste—of that coming meal at our true home. 

Today, we trudge the snow with the soldiers of 1943, hoping and dreaming of being home by Christmas. 

Home: rest, reassurance, healing, wholeness. Christ. † 


Questions

  1. What are some of the different ways to think of “repentance”? 
  2. 2. How does the idea of “returning home” differ from other notions of repentance? 
  3. 3. Why are our attitudes more significant than our ideas?
  4. 4. What makes changing one’s attitude such a difficulty?
  5. 5. What attitude is your heart “at home” with? 
  6. 6. How can changing our idea of home also change our attitude? 
  7. 7. If our home is in Heaven, how might our attitudes change?  
                                              © Noel 2021