Oh, No, No, No…
Bruce Springsteen
The Problem
Amen.
I am told that amen means so be it. So be it is a lot like yes. When I imagine Adam walking through Eden, I imagine him saying, “Yes,” a lot.
God says, “Adam, work the garden.”
Adam says, “Yes,” and works the garden.
God says, “Adam, name the animals.”
Adam says, “Yes,” and names the animals.
God says, “Adam, enjoy the garden.”
Adam says, “Yes,” and enjoys the beauty of the garden.
I imagine Adam walking through the marvels of Eden, the wonders upon wonders, the joys, the sights, and the vistas which, upon seeing, Adam says from deep in his soul, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Wendell Berry captures for me what first wonders feel like in his poem, The First.
The first man who whistled
thought he had a wren in his mouth.
He went around all day
with his lips puckered,
afraid to swallow.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Adam knew yes.
He also knew no.
God says, “Adam don’t eat from the tree that is in the middle of the garden.”
Adam says, “Which tree?” And later, when he’s sure God is far away, when he holds the fruit in his hand, Adam says, “No,” and breaks God’s rule.
When God looks for him, when God asks what he has done, Adam doesn’t say yes to God but no. “No! It wasn’t my fault. It was that woman you gave me.” No.
Adam had yes. Adam had no. He needed something else.
Peter, Jesus’ disciple, was a lot like Adam. Peter had yes. Peter had no. He needed something else.
The Text
Mark 8: 27 Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” 28 And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” 29 He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” 30 And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
31 Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32 He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. 33 But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
Peter was big on saying, “Yes!”
Jesus found Peter on the shores of Galilee. Jesus said, “Come and follow me.”
Peter responded, “Yes!”
Jesus was walking on water. Jesus said, “Come to me.”
Peter said, “Yes!” and stepped out of the boat.
Jesus said, “Feed the 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish.”
And Peter said, “Yes!”
Jesus said, “We’re riding into Jerusalem.”
Peter got excited and said, “YES!”
Jesus started throwing the money changers out of the temple. Peter even more excited shouted, “YES! YES! YES!”
But Peter didn’t just say, “Yes,” to Jesus. When Jesus talked about his death, “They will kill me in Jerusalem,” when Jesus tried to prepare him, Peter wouldn’t hear of it. He couldn’t say, “Yes,” to the death of Jesus whom he loved so much, so Peter shouted, “NO!” He said, “No, Jesus, that can never happen to you! NO!”
When they came for Jesus, Peter took his sword and cut off the ear of another man. “NO! You can’t take him!” But they did.
Peter, afraid that they might take him away like they took Jesus, and crucify him like they were about to crucify Jesus, accused of knowing Jesus, of being one of Jesus’ followers, Peter shouted, “NO! I don’t know him!” Three times he shouted, “NO! NO! NO!”
Peter understood yes. Peter understood no. He needed something else. If he had only had something else, Peter might have been able to stay with Jesus, to have been present when Jesus had needed him. If only Peter had something more. But he didn’t. He had yes. He had no. But nothing else.
I was like Adam. I was like Peter. I had yes. I had no. But I needed something else, especially when my father was dying.
I was 18 years old, starting my sophomore year in college, my father was in the hospital. He was dying of cancer, and I didn’t know it. I had yes and I had no but I didn’t have anything else.
I had yes you are going to get better, yes you’ll be going back home from the hospital, yes it won’t be long now.
I also had no. No, the doctor didn’t really say it could be any time. No he’s not looking worse by the moment. No…
My father was dying, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t be present with him. I had yes. I had no. I needed something else.
When I went to the hospital that Friday night, my mother had been with him for several days, so I volunteered to sit by his bed so she could sleep.
All men may be created equal (according to the Declaration of Independence) but all nurses definitely are not. My father’s night nurse was named Attila. She jabbed my father more times putting in his i.v. than Attila the Hun jabbed Asia. I sat beside his bed. He kept sitting up. His eyes glazed, he reached up and beyond the wall of the room. I didn’t know that he was dying. All I knew was that he was pulling out his i.v. I knew I didn’t want Attila to come back and jab him anymore. I kept saying, “No…” “No, Dad…” “No, Dad, lie back…” I didn’t know he was dying.
My consistent, “No,” kept him in the hospital room through the night.
After the sun came up and mom woke up, I went to the house for a shower. About a half hour after I left, with my resistance out of the room, with my no out of his way, he died.
My family wanted to tell me in person, when they got home, so they waited. At home, alone, I answered the phone. The man from the funeral home spoke to me looking for mom. “Did you know Mr. Jones died?” he asked. All I could say was, “No…”
That was some twenty-five plus years ago. During the writing of this chapter, I got another phone call. A young man in our community committed suicide. His father came home and found him. He had hung himself in the garage.
When I got the news, all I could say was, “No…”
Shep was a vibrant young man, active across several groups, football player, skateboarder, Young Life active participant. Shep said yes to much of life, to friends, to school, to God. Shep also said no. When he took his life, Shep cried a loud, incomprehensible and irreversible, “NO!”
Shep had yes. Shep had no. Shep needed something else.
Jesus had something else. Jesus knew a word Adam didn’t know. Jesus knew a word Peter didn’t know. Jesus knew a word I didn’t know. Jesus knew a word that Shep didn’t know. Jesus knew a word we needed. Jesus knew a word all of us need… Okay
The Text Revisited
Imagine if, along with yes and no, Peter had okay…
Mark 8: 31 Then (Jesus) began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32 He said all this quite openly. And Peter said, “Okay. I don’t like it, but okay…”
Transformation
Jesus knew okay.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, soldiers were coming for Jesus. Jesus knew the people in power would rather have him dead than alive, and they had the ability to end his life. Jesus looked to God, prayed three times, but as far as we know, God, who spoke to him at his baptism and called him beloved, said nothing here. Jesus prayed again and again, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.”
if it is possible… When it came to Jesus’ own death, not everything was clear. He looked for other possibilities, possibilities that were out of sight for him…
let this cup pass from me… He wanted another way. This wasn’t his first choice, so he didn’t shout, “YES!” like a high school cheerleader at homecoming, like a couple who has been given the news that their in vitro succeeded, like a man who just won the lottery and is told to go to the store of purchase to claim his winnings, no, nothing like that. No alternatives were given that would keep Jesus from the painful road ahead. Death was imminent. And so Jesus, although he doesn’t give a certain, “Yes,” he does answer in the affirmative. He says, essentially, “Okay.” “If this is your will, your plan, then, okay.”
Amen means so be it. So be it doesn’t always sound like yes to me. Often it sounds more like okay. Sometimes, we don’t have a yes to give. Sometimes, like Adam in the Garden when he’d blown it, like when Peter faced the death of one he loved, like me with the death of my father, and all of us in our troubles, sometimes okay is all we can muster.
But even if it is all we can find in affirmation, okay is plenty, a holy amen in the presence of God.
Consider: If Adam had known okay, then things likely would have been different in his story. If when God said, “Don’t eat from that tree,” he had said, “Okay,” he would have saved himself a lot of trouble.
Similarly, with Peter, if when Jesus said, “Peter I see how this thing is going to turn out, I am going to be killed,” and Peter could have said, “Okay,” he could have stayed with Jesus, been present with him on his journey to Jerusalem, to the cross, and beyond. If he could have said, “Okay, here we are,” when Jesus said to the soldiers, “Okay, here I am,” then Peter could have stayed with Jesus.
If I had known okay I could have been present with the reality of my father’s encroaching death and been present with my father.
If Shep had only known okay he could have lived to be with us another day, today.
Okay is a powerful word.
Lao Tzu understood okay when he wrote this famous passage in The Tao…
At birth all people are soft and yielding.
At death they are hard and stiff.
All green plants are tender and yielding.
At death they are brittle and dry.
When hard and rigid,
We consort with death.
When soft and flexible,
We affirm greater life.
Adam and Eve were hard and stiff. Peter was hard and stiff. I was hard and stiff. But I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve learned that a key word of faith is okay. One of the primary things I do now as a pastor is help people find okay.
There were two deaths within our community at the same time I was writing this chapter. One was Shep. The other was Joe. Joe understood what Shep didn’t. Joe had yes. Joe had no. Joe also understood okay.
I sat with Joe Griswold, church member, husband, father, grandfather, friend, Marine (once a Marine always a Marine, so I’m told). Joe was dying of pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer, according to Joe, was like hearing a gun shot and waiting for the bullet.
I asked, “Joe, remind me what Semper Fi (the Marine motto)means.”
“Always faithful,” Joe replied. “Fi is from the Latin Fides, or faithful.Always faithful.”
For Joe, as for many Marines, Semper Fi wasn’t a motto, but a lifestyle.
One of Joe’s early jobs was with the Post Office. Though they didn’t use the Latin, Semper Fi, their motto was essentially, always faithful, no matter what the circumstances. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds. The motto for curriers goes back way before the modern post office, 2,000 years or more. The original saying was actually, Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds
As a Marine, Joe fought in Korea, in the Chosin Reservoir, where the U.N. forces were outnumbered 10 to 1. The weather was so cold the temperature would likely kill you before the enemy could, so cold an injured man would likely watch his own blood freeze, so cold the food, even if you could thaw it, couldn’t be cooked enough to not make you sick. Semper Fi in Korea meant always faithful regardless of conditions.
As an engineer, Joe worked on The New River Bridge in West Virginia. The New River Bridge is the second tallest bridge in the United States and the longest spanning, steel, single-arch bridge in the world soaring 876 feet above the rugged whitewaters of West Virginia’s New River. Because of the bridge, a once 40 minute trip across the river now only takes a single minute.Like any bridge, the sign of a good bridge is Semper Fi, always faithful, and the sign of a great bridge, always faithful no matter what the circumstances.
As a church member, always faithful no matter what the circumstances took a different meaning. There were some things about church Joe didn’t like. Once a year we have “African Drum Sunday” when almost all the music is accompanied by a drum corp. Joe didn’t like the drums. A few times a year, we do Communion by intinction (when people come to the front and tear a piece of bread and dip into the cup instead of passing bread and juice on trays). Joe didn’t like it. I know each piece in our worship services Joe didn’t like, but Joe never even thought of leaving the church because of any one of those things.
In his marriage of fifty years, always faithful wasmore than a motto, for Joe and Katherine, always faithful was a lifestyle.
As we sat together at the hospital, I asked Joe, “What did you learn from your time in the military that has helped you deal with pancreatic cancer and what’s going on in your body?”
Joe thought for a minute and said, “Shit happens.”
I said to Joe, “It’s not personal?”
Joe replied, “I don’t think so. Do you?”
“No,” I replied.
We sat for a while longer, and then Joe said. “The other thing I learned from the military is you never know what’s next.”
“But you keep going forward,” I said.
“Yes, you keep going forward,” he agreed.
I explained to him the yes, no, and okay distinctions I was working on. He explained to me that okay is going forward when you don’t know what’s next, you don’t know what’s coming, you don’t like it, you may be afraid of it, but you keep going forward. That’s okay.
Joe’s faith allowed him to say okay in life and death.
Katherine asked Joe what he thought heaven would be like. Joe said, “Many mansions.”
“How can you be so sure?” Katherine asked.
“Because my grandmother told me so,” Joe said.
“Do you have any other images?” Katherine asked.
“No,” Joe said. He needed none. What his grandmother told him was enough.
The image of mansions is from John 14:
1Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. 2In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. (KJV)
In this passage, it is a bridegroom and bride image. A groom in Jesus’ day wasn’t likely living in his own home or renting an apartment, but in his father’s house. In John 14, Jesus speaks as a groom when he says, “In my father’s house, there are many dwelling places” in other words, lots of room for rooms.
The groom would begin the engagement, not by proposing to the bride, but to her father. They would negotiate a price, a dowry, for the bride.
Paul also uses language of bride and bridegroom in 1 Corinthians 6:
Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? 20 For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.
At the end of the proposal, the agreement was sealed with a drink of wine. Then the groom would say to the bride, “I am going to prepare a place for you,” and he would leave.
When he finished the new addition to his father’s house, the groom would return with all his groomsmen. They would come into the village blowing a horn. The brides in waiting would wonder, “Is it me? Is my groom coming for me?” The groom would take her back to the new home off his family’s house and there they would celebrate the wedding for seven days.
Joe said okay as an act of faith. His faith came from a simple trust, a trust that even in a world he couldn’t always say yes to, in times of challenge, pain, and struggle, times when he only had okay, Joe trusted that God was, is, and would be, Semper Fi, always faithful.
Where in your life have you only been saying, no? Where in your life has a yes been far removed and absent? Where in your life do you need the power of okay to set you free?
Name each place, offer it to God, and say, “So be it.”
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