St. John’s Church on Morgan Hill

Blake Heffner February 21st, 2007

“Bumping Life Off Self-Center” An Ash Wednesday Meditation

Texts: Mark 8:34-38 Colossians 1:15-20

The word Lent has an interesting heritage. It comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for “spring,” and that word came from the root of our present word “lengthen” – because spring is the time of year when days are lengthening. So, it’s no wonder why I like Lent so much – it coincides with an irrepressible urge within me for more light, more warmth and more fresh air. There was an unmistakable hint of spring in the air today. Did you feel it?

Just about every year at this time, I am glad that Lent arrives. Spiritually, I feel an increasing desire to grow like the little crocus and daffodils we will soon see poking their heads up through the soil. I am ready for a season of soul cultivation. How about you? If you are, you will appreciate the theme which the Morgan Hill pastors have selected for our mid-week meditations this Lent. The theme is taken from a short, very readable, book by Max Lucado called “It’s Not About Me.” Wouldn’t you agree that is a classic Lenten subject?

Let’s dive right in. Max begins with a chapter titled “Bumping Life Off Self-Center.” Because Max Lucado has a unique style of communication, I think you’ll want to hear directly from him.

“Blame the bump on Copernicus. Until Copernicus came along in 1543, we earthlings enjoyed center stage. Fathers could place an arm around their children, point to the night sky, and proclaim, “The universe revolves around us.”

Ah, the hub of the planetary wheel, the navel of the heavenly body, the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue of the cosmos. [We thought earth] was dead center of everything. Other planets orbit and rotate, but not ours. Earth is like the Rock of Gibralter, the anchor of the universe.

But then came Nicolaus. Nicolaus Copernicus with his maps and drawings, his bony nose and Polish accent, and his pestering questions: “Can anyone tell me what causes the seasons to change? Why do some stars appear in the day and others at night?”

People scoffed at his questions. But Copernicus persisted. “Forgive me,” he said, as he pointed his bony finger toward the sun, “That is the center of the solar system.”

People lived in denial for over half a century. When Galileo came along and agreed with Copernicus, they locked him up, and the church kicked him out. People didn’t take well to demotions back then.

We still don’t. What Copernicus did for the earth, God does for our souls. Tapping the collective shoulder of humanity, God points to His Son – that’s S-o-n – and says, “Behold the center of it all.”

Stepping out of the book for a moment, isn’t that what Paul declared to the Colossians? “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.”

That is a magnificent tribute. Max Lucado couldn’t have put it any more sublimely: Jesus Christ is the centerpiece of all creation. “By him all things were created … and in him all things hold together!” What a testimony!

Max comments: “So, when God looks at the center of the universe, he doesn’t look at you or me. When heaven’s stagehands direct the spotlight toward the star of the show, I need no sunglasses. No light falls on me.

Lesser orbs, that’s us. Appreciated. Valued. Loved dearly. But central? Essential? Pivotal? Nope. Sorry. Contrary [to what advertisers suggest] the world doesn’t revolve around us. Our comfort is not God’s first priority… God does not exist to make a big deal out of us. We exist to make a big deal out of him. It’s not about you. It’s not about me. It’s all about him: “Jesus Christ, who is before all things and supreme over all things.”

The moon models our role. What does the moon do? She generates no light. Contrary to the lyrics of the song, the harvest moon cannot shine on. Apart from the sun, the moon is nothing more than a pitch-black, pockmarked rock. But properly positioned, the moon beams. Let her do what she was made to do, and a clod of dirt becomes a source of inspiration, yea, verily, romance.

And she’s happy to do so! You never hear the moon complaining. She makes no waves about making waves. Even though sunning is accepted while mooning is the butt of bad jokes, you won’t hear ol’ Cheeseface grumble.”

What would happen if we accepted our place as Son reflectors? Such a shift doesn’t come easily though. We’ve been demanding our way and stamping our feet since infancy. Aren’t we born with a default drive set on “selfishness”? I want a spouse who makes me happy and coworkers who always ask my opinion. I want weather that suits me and traffic that helps me and a government that serves me. It is all about me.

Self-promotion. Self-preservation. Self-centeredness. It’s all about me! They all told us it was, didn’t they? Weren’t we urged to look out for number one? Find our place in the sun? Make a name for ourselves?

But what chaos this philosophy creates. What if a symphony orchestra followed such an approach? Can you imagine an orchestra with an “it’s all about me” outlook? Each artist clamoring for self-expression. Tubas blasting nonstop. Percussionists pounding to get attention. The cellist shoving the flutist out of the center-stage chair. The conductor ignored. It’s a picture of chaos, not harmony.

[Think about the chaotic situations in which we live.] If you think it’s about you, I think it’s about me, we have no hope for a melody. What would happen if we took our places and played our parts. If we played the music the Maestro gave us to play? If we made his song our highest priority? Talk about a Copernican shift. Talk about a healthy shift. Life makes sense when we accept our place. The God-centered life works.

But how do we make the shift? How can we be bumped off self-center? Attend a seminar, read a Lucado book? No. We move from me-focus to God-focus by looking at Him.”

Thank you, Max, we get the picture. Jesus told us how to make that shift in our gospel lesson: “If any of you would come after me, you must deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?”

So, I invite you to Lent, a season of hopeful expectation as the days lengthen. Let’s stir up the soil of our souls and prepare for new growth. This happens when we focus our undivided attention on Jesus Christ. He is the star who alone deserves to be at center stage of our lives. Let this focusing begin as we come to the Lord’s Table this evening.

Beyond tonight, if you appreciate our common need for this re-focusing process, I invite you to become a good-will ambassador for Lent, an evangelist for self-denial and discipline. It’s no secret that Lent is losing its significance in our society. Let’s make a concerted effort to invite others to join us for Lent – not just for soup and sandwiches, but for a season of cultivation and discipline, in anticipation of new vitality and fruitfulness.

Let’s prepare ourselves to come to the Lord’s Table with a period of silent reflection and confession. What facets of your daily life need to be re-focused, re-calibrated, reshaped after the image of Jesus Christ?

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