Service for Zion Presbyterian Church – July 4, 2010 Camp Keir Sunday

Scripture: 2 Kings 2:23-25; Acts 20:7-12; 1 Timothy 4:12-13

Sermon Title: An example to all believers

2 Kings 2:23-25 (New Living Translation)

Elisha left Jericho and went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, a group of boys from the town began mocking and making fun of him. “Go away, baldy!” they chanted. “Go away, baldy!” Elisha turned around and looked at them, and he cursed them in the name of the Lord. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of them. From there Elisha went to Mount Carmel and finally returned to Samaria.

Acts 20:7-12 (New Living Translation)

On the first day of the week, we gathered with the local believers to share in the Lord’s Supper. Paul was preaching to them, and since he was leaving the next day, he kept talking until midnight. The upstairs room where we met was lighted with many flickering lamps. As Paul spoke on and on, a young man named Eutychus, sitting on the windowsill, became very drowsy. Finally, he fell sound asleep and dropped three stories to his death below. Paul went down, bent over him, and took him into his arms. “Don’t worry,” he said, “he’s alive!” Then they all went back upstairs, shared in the Lord’s Supper, and ate together. Paul continued talking to them until dawn, and then he left. Meanwhile, the young man was taken home unhurt, and everyone was greatly relieved.

1 Timothy 4:12-13 (New Living Translation)

Don’t let anyone think less of you because you are young. Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity. Until I get there, focus on reading the Scriptures to the church, encouraging the believers, and teaching them.

In the spring of 1995 I fulfilled a long-time dream, and travelled to Lutherstadt Wittenberg for a time of touring and study. As you might guess, Lutherstadt Wittenberg was the home of Martin Luther, and the founding city of the Reformation, which had been my area of study for my various Master’s Degrees. I also consider Martin Luther to be my spiritual father, even though he lived some 500 years ago, in that I had come to a lifelong understanding of the Christian faith through his sermons and writings. I would first be travelling with my mother to her home town of Pössneck, and then alone to the University of Wittenberg, so it was a real personal and spiritual pilgrimage for me, and possible only because of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Imagine my excitement and anticipation as I got off the train in Lutherstadt. The old buildings! The soaring churches! The great castle in the distance! And just a kilometer or so up the road, the University itself, and the famous Lutherhaus, where Martin Luther himself lived and worked together with his wonderful wife, his Dana, Katy von Bora. My eyes were filled with stars and maybe even tears as I trudged up that historic cobblestone road, not even feeling the weight of the backpack loaded with books for my studies.

When a group of teenage boys walked by. Spotting the Tilley Hat, backpack, and dazzled gaze, they immediately identified me as a tourist, and from a faraway land, as no self-respecting German would be seen in a Tilley hat. Rather than greeting me with kind words and a hearty Wilkommen to their town, they set about me with taunts and curses, questioning my heritage, my parentage, and my intelligence, all in the harshest manner. Well, if there was one thing I learned in my misspent youth, it was how to curse right back, and in fluent, flawless, ear-withering German at that. And in a local dialect. They mumbled apologies, and slunk away. I have to say, it sort of took the bloom off the rose of my arrival in Wittenberg. And it brought the story of Elisha and the She-Bears to mind.

Let me set it up for you. The great prophet Elijah (that’s Elijah with a J) sees the end of his ministry coming. He sets out on a farewell tour – Gilgal, Bethel, Jericho, the Jordan – and everywhere he goes, so too goes his faithful assistant Elisha (that’s Elisha with an SH, not a J). The moment of parting finally comes, with Elijah handing the mantle of his prophetic authority over to his assistant, along with a double blessing of the Spirit of God. And then this:

As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. Elisha saw this and cried out, "My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!" And Elisha saw him no more.

2 Kings 2:11-12 (New International Version)

If you’ve ever wondered where the song came from, “Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home,” now you know. The main thing is, now Elisha is the number one Prophet of God, which he proves by striking the river Jordan with the his cloak, and walking over, Moses-style, on dry ground. We’re told that all the clergy of the great city of Jericho were there to watch this happen, and they said, “Yup, he’s the man,” or a version of the same. Following a more helpful miracle of purifying the local water supply, Elisha decides to travel from Jericho to Bethel, the home base of Elijah’s, and now his, ministry.

And it is at the end of that long and dusty road – a journey of some 40 kilometres, and all uphill – that the trouble happens. Finally having reached his goal, the great and holy city of Bethel, ready to establish himself as Elijah’s successor, as the national Prophet of God, he strides through the city gate. Thinking of the great altar of sacrifice, thinking of the marvelous miracles and very words of God proclaimed by his spiritual father Elijah, his heart races, his eyes fill with tears. Now he, Elisha, is God’s Prophet. Now he, Elisha, is come home. When a group of teenage boys walk by.

Knowing a newcomer when they see one, and always ready to engage in the timeless teenage sport of tourist-baiting, rather than greeting him with kind words and a hearty welcoming Shalom to their town, they set about Elisha with taunts and curses, questioning his heritage, his parentage, and his intelligence, all in the harshest manner. And, cruelest of all, his hairline. Or, more to the point, his lack of hairline. “Go away, baldy!” they chanted. “Go away, baldy!”

Well, if there was one thing Elisha had learned from Elijah, it was how to curse right back, and in fluent, flawless, ear-withering Hebrew at that. And in a local dialect. And in the name of the Lord. And then we read this:

Then two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of them.

What a great story, and what a great ending! Because let’s face it: who among us has not, at some point in our lives, wished to call a couple of she-bears out of the woods to deal with some annoying teenagers? Even our own? It seems that teenagers were a big disrespectful pain in the neck, even in Elisha’s day, some 2750 years ago. A couple of she-bears and a good mauling will straighten the lot of them out, that’s what I say.

If we turn to the New Testament, we find another teenager story. This one has to do with a young fellow named Eutychus. Eutychus, it seems, like many teenagers, had a complaint. Eutychus thought church was boring. And while there are no she-bears involved in this story, Eutychus’ boredom nonetheless costs him his life.

Sermons always seemed long to Eutychus. Way too long. Church was bad enough – lots of boring music, lots of sitting around – but the sermons were especially painful. And this was a long one. Even Luke admits that Paul “was talking on and on.” At least Eutychus had gotten a seat by the window, where he could look outside and catch a breeze. In fact, as the night wore on, he managed to get right up onto the window ledge, attracting disapproving stares from some of the older members of the congregation, who thought he should show a little more respect. Eutychus was used to disapproving stares, though, constantly criticized as he was when he did show up in church for his choice of clothing, hairstyle, posture, attitude, sandals, and who knows what else. So let them look. Let them frown. At least he was comfortable. Too comfortable, it turns out. Here’s what happened:

As Paul spoke on and on, a young man named Eutychus, sitting on the windowsill, became very drowsy. Finally, he fell sound asleep and dropped three stories to his death below.

There were shouts, there were screams, there were a few people either saying out loud or to themselves, “I could have told you that would happen, I glared at him for sitting in that windowsill, but no, he always has to do things his way. That’s what you get for listening to all that hoopla music. That’s teenagers for ya. Serves him right.”

I should say that this story has a happier ending than the one with the she-bears. Here’s how Luke puts it:

Paul went down, bent over him, and took him into his arms. “Don’t worry,” he said, “he’s alive!” Then they all went back upstairs, shared in the Lord’s Supper, and ate together. Paul continued talking to them until dawn, and then he left. Meanwhile, the young man was taken home unhurt, and everyone was greatly relieved.

Especially Eutychus, who at least go to go home, and not sit around in church for another six hours.

OK, so teenagers are disrespectful to their elders, and bored in church. What else is new? Well, it so happens that the Bible actually does have a teenager who made good, who has an important role to play, and who is worthy of our respect. His name is Timothy.

Timothy is the grandchild of a convert of Paul’s named Lois, and the child of another convert, Eunice. It seems as though the faith of Lois and Eunice had been passed on to Timothy, who ended up being a big help to the aging apostle. Paul wasn’t getting any younger, and the roads and journeys weren’t getting any shorter, and the churches he founded weren’t getting any smaller, so Paul needed an assistant, a helper, a young, active, keen and devoted protégé, and Timothy was just the man – the young man – for the job. So Paul took that eager, open faith, and poured wisdom and time into it, and soon Timothy was at the point of taking on some serious responsibility himself.

One of the big problems Timothy faced, however, was in dealing with people who thought very little of young people, who thought that wisdom came with a grey beard, whose experience of teenagers had been more along the line of Elisha’s. And so Paul writes letters of instruction and encouragement to Timothy:

Paul thought Timothy was up to the job, a job that Timothy could do in a way that Paul no longer could.

In the same way, I believe the young men and women serving as leaders and counselors at Camp Keir are up to the job, too – a job that I could not do. These young men and women are entrusted with the sacred task of telling our children, our teenagers, about Jesus. And not only telling them: showing them. They are an example to our children, to our teenagers, in what they say, in the way they live, in their love, their faith, and their purity. And this kind of example, this kind of role model, is something that you or I cannot in the same way be. We’re too old.

Even a youngish, vibrant, energetic, talented, good looking fellow (like, say, me) is considered by our children and teens to be a hopeless old geezer, pushing 50, impossibly ancient and out of touch, and far, far, FAR, from cool. Put me in my baggy Dad shorts and contrasting Dad shirt and my Dad sandals with socks, and there isn’t a kid, there isn’t a teenager, who would ever think in their hearts, “Someday, I wanna be just like that guy.” But the staff at Keir – the children want to be like them. They want to have the same values, the same commitment, the same faith. They hear the Good News about Jesus from them much, much differently than they would ever hear it from me. Why? Because these young people are closer in age, in culture, in feeling. These young people are cool. Far from thinking less of these young men and women of the ministry team of Camp Keir, I think all the more of them – they are doing what I cannot do, in a way I can no longer hope to do it, with an impact on the lives of our children and teens that I could never hope to have.

Camp Keir is a fortress of faith, a lighthouse of hope, in the midst of a world of twisted values. Camp Keir is a place where our children, our young people, our teens, can find a path in the darkness, can be introduced to a new song, can march to a different drum. Camp Keir is a vital mission on our Island, a place where many of our young people, for the first time in their lives, make a commitment to Jesus Christ, a commitment to live for him, to follow him, to make him their Saviour and Lord. Camp Keir is the place where young people are given the courage, the strength, the determination to say to the warped standards of our world, “We have a different way.” Camp Keir is where the seeds of faith are planted which can flourish and grow and sustain their faith through Middle School and High School and College and University and beyond.

What can we do? What can you do? Support the work of Camp Keir. Pray for the Counselors. Pray for the Camp Committee. Pray for the campers. Put your money where your good wishes are, and take a Camp Keir envelope with you, and next week we’ll take up an offering to help us adopt a project that we can undertake to keep the camp beautiful, safe and fun. With your help, we’ll keep the camp ready for this summer, and the next, and the next generation of campers to come.

And in the midst of it all, next time you see a teenager in church, rather than giving them the evil eye because of their choice of clothing, hairstyle, posture, attitude, sandals, and who knows what else, remember Eutychus. Remember Timothy. Remember that they can do a job they rest of us can no longer do; they can minister the love of God in Jesus Christ to people who have long stopped listening to you an me. Encourage them. Bless them. Have a conversation with them. Pray for them. And if they still make fun of you because you’re bald, then bring on the she-bears.

As the people of God, the whole people of God, young and old, let’s support one another as we march to the beat of a different drummer; that of the heartbeat of the Lord our God. Amen.