Earth Crammed with Heaven

Jesu Juva

Romans 12:1-8                                                                   

August 23, 2020

Proper 16A                                               

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          The poet, Elizabeth Barret Browning, once wrote this little verse: 

Earth’s crammed with heaven/ and every common bush afire with God/ but only he who sees takes off his shoes.  Do you see what she’s saying?  Earth is crammed with heaven.  God comes down from heaven and fills the earth with His glory.  But only those who see it take off their shoes.  That’s an allusion to the call of Moses.  You remember it.  Moses was tending the flocks of his father-in-law, when he noticed a bush that was burning, but was not consumed.  And from that burning bush the Lord spoke to Moses—told Moses to take off his sandals because the place where he was standing was holy ground. 

          I suspect you know a thing or two about holy ground.  Holy ground is where God has located Himself—where God speaks and acts to bless and forgive His people.  For most of us, this is holy ground.  This is sacred space.  There’s the font where God enlarges His family through the washing of Holy Baptism.  There’s the altar from which God feeds and nourishes His family with the Holy Supper.  Right here’s the pulpit from which the voice of God, spoken through His servants, calls sinners to repentance and comforts them with blood-bought absolution.  The flickering, flaming candles behind me aren’t there to set the mood, but to declare the bright holiness of God.  If your definition of holy ground is found within these four walls, your definition is correct; but your definition is also far too small.

          Hear again the poet:  Earth’s crammed with heaven/ and every common bush afire with God/ but only he who sees takes off his shoes.  Our readings this morning invite us to be among those who see and take off their shoes.  They invite us to see earth . . . crammed with heaven.  Consider the Old Testament reading.  Here we have a vision from Isaiah.  “Look,” he cries.  Look to Abraham and Sarah—a little old lady and a little old man, who didn’t have any children, who spent most of their lives worshipping the sun and the moon and the stars.  But then God called them and crammed their lives with descendants as numerous as the stars, and with heavenly blessings that now extend all the way to you, right here and now.  Consider today’s gospel reading, where a Jewish rabbi from Nazareth walks with His disciples through the region of Caesarea Philippi.  He walks and talks like an ordinary man.  But Peter is given eyes to see.  Peter sees earth crammed with heaven:  “You are the Christ,” he confesses, “the Son of the living God.”

          In today’s epistle reading, Paul turns his eyes to the church at Rome.  And when Paul looks at that little group of believers he sees earth crammed with heaven—a glorious and holy church, one body in Christ.  Now, the Roman Christians would not have been glorious to the world around them—much like us.  Not many of them were rich or powerful.  They gathered together in small house churches, their lives a far cry from the glories of Rome that fill our history books.  And yet, as Paul looks at these saints, he sees earth crammed with heaven. 

          Paul writes, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”  Here, notice what Paul says about sacrifice.  The sacrificial worship of the Old Testament has now been transformed.  No longer does the worshipper offer God the life of another creature; he gives God his own living self!  Your body is a living sacrifice—a living, breathing, walking, talking, loving, serving sacrifice of praise.  Since all people have bodies, all can sacrifice.  And since you’re never without your body, that means that your worshiping—your sacrificing—is happening all the time, constantly.  And since your body is visible, all of your worshiping and sacrificing becomes a witness to God—a proclamation of His praise.

          This is deep stuff.  Do you get it?  Do you see?  God in Christ has declared you (through faith) to be holy and acceptable; so that now your whole life lived in the flesh is a living sacrifice of praise.  Your work, your play, your vocations—at home, on campus, in the cubicle, mowing the lawn—all of it a living sacrifice, a thank-offering to God.  You could say that your whole life is worship.  Your whole body—baptized into Christ—has been crammed full of heaven so that everywhere you go is transformed into holy ground.   All the common places you visit are set afire with God.  That doesn’t mean that you’re quoting Bible verses all the time; but it does mean that God is using you to cram earth with heaven—to season the earth with holiness.

          This means that worship isn’t just about what happens here on Sunday morning.  Spiritual worship goes on in the body, in your day to day life, when you rise in the morning and when you lay down at night.  This is why the catechism reminds you to make the sign of the cross and speak the invocation at such times.  Every day a day of worship—not just Sunday.  Life is worship—being a living sacrifice.  This is more than just “doing good works,” which sounds like drudgery.  This means living large before God—embracing His gifts, putting them to use, serving others, taking a few risks, and giving yourself away because you have nothing to lose.

          Now, since your earthly body has been crammed full of heaven—this requires a new way of thinking.  Paul writes about this new way of thinking:  “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  Beloved in the Lord, this means that you don’t follow the crowd.  You may be in the world, but you’re not of the world.  You have an earthly body, but your body has been filled with heaven.  This means you use your body now in anticipation of the life of the world to come.  It means that you flee from all sexual immorality—all the jealousy and idolatry, all hatred and rage, all the violence and venom that would defile your body.  You don’t conform to that.  That’s not who you are, you baptized child of God.  Instead, you are transformed by the renewal of you mind.  You are given the mind of Christ, to discern the will of God and live it.

          “Earth’s crammed with heaven,” the poet once said.  “But only he who sees takes off his shoes.”  And there’s the trouble with you and me.  We don’t see how God is using us as His living sacrifices.  Paul, it seems, was a little concerned that some of the Roman Christians would take too much pride in how God was using them.  He warns them, “I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought.”  But I think you and I have the opposite problem.  We may see God doing great things through others, but not in us—not in our hum-drum lives.  Too often we think that what we say and what we do are insignificant.  That nobody notices—nobody cares.  We think that our words don’t matter and that our witness to others is invisible.  So what do we do? We just go along to get along.  We start conforming to this dying world. 

          But God declares otherwise—declares your baptized body to be a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God.  Earth is crammed with heaven—and you are the heaven—light of the world, salt of the earth.  Your work and your words and your witness have eternal significance.  And even if you can’t see that right now, then at least trust the words and promises of God.  God has brought about your salvation in Jesus Christ.  He offered the perfect sacrifice, on the cross, that takes away your sin—a sacrifice that forgives your blindness and opens your eyes to see the working of God.  He’s at work in your life . . . for others . . . in this world.  Earth’s crammed with heaven.  Do you see it?

          God is using you; but isn’t using only you. Spiritual worship is a team sport.  Think about the worship that happens here on Sunday morning and all the people who serve to make it happen.  Pastors, singers, ushers, elders, musicians, altar guild—a team working together as one.  Just like a body has many diverse members.  Not everyone is the same as the next.  We have different gifts, but we all are gifted in some way.  And God uses each of those gifts to accomplish His purposes.

          Our lives of worship begin right here in the divine service, in the congregation.  And among the members of this congregation I hope you can see what I see.  I see living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God.  I see spiritual worship that continues long after we blow out the candles and turn off the lights and lock the doors.  I see earth crammed with heaven. We may not be a well-oiled machine; but we are the body of Christ and the baptized family of God.  And by His grace, wherever we go:  Earth is crammed with heaven/ and every common bush set afire with God. 

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.