It turns out that the extreme lockdown that we have experienced in recent days…

was imposed because a man who tested positive… 

wasn’t honest during his contact-tracing interviews… 

and didn’t admit that he worked at the pizza shop…

rather than being a customer.

The discovery of the man’s misinformation prompted authorities to shorten the extreme lockdown.

The Premier, not surprising, was furious.

And, somehow, wants some sort of penalty imposed…

although some experts have cautioned…

that it may discourage people from coming forward…

or getting tested.

Naturally, many business owners… 

who had to close down for several days…

were also furious.

 

But it begs the question, ‘Why? Why did he lie?’

 

Someone who worked in contact tracing during the recent Victorian outbreak noted…

that they found a number of cases where people lied to them… 

because they feared getting into trouble.

“If they’re working illegally, they might be scared of losing their job”…

she said.

“A lot of them are not from Australia. We don’t know what their experiences with past governments have been like, so they might be suspicious of governments and not willing to tell the truth out of fear”.

Others have noted, the man could have been under pressure to lie from his employer…

who was acting illegally, paying cash-in-hand.

 

And while what he did is wrong, it’s understandable.

In many respects, it’s not that different from all those people…

who, on Wednesday afternoon, caused traffic chaos…

and went on a panicked shopping spree…

denuding supermarket shelves…

buying things that they didn’t really need…

but that others actually might have.

Fear and uncertainty are powerful, instinctual motivators.

When we’re faced uncertainty…

when we’re faced with perceived danger or threat…

when we feel like we have no control over our world or our lives…

our instinct for self-preservation kicks in.

In the face of powerlessness…

it’s normal to strive for some semblance of power and control.

 

We also see that in the Church.

Faced with numerically declining and ageing congregations…

crumbling buildings…

and diminishing budgets…

the response–– 

across all mainstream denominations–– 

has been to close buildings… 

to amalgamate congregations…

and to engage in new mission strategies and initiatives.

And most of us––

in our heart of hearts––

us yearn for a fraction of the success that Pentecostal mega-churches seem to enjoy.

Faced with danger and threat…

faced with uncertainty and insecurity…

we crave a sense of power and control;

we strive to do whatever we can to ensure our survival.

And why not?

The alternative is, for most of us, simply too scary.

If we don’t do all of that, then what will be left in a generation’s time?

A decade’s time?

Even five years’ time?

No!

We owe it to ourselves…

we owe it to posterity…

we owe it to God…

to ensure that the Church survives.

After all, the Church is part of God’s plan for humanity.

As the author of the letter to the Ephesians––

writing in the name of Paul…

but a generation or so after his death––

puts it… 

the Church is the “body of Christ”.

So, we can’t let anything happen to it, can we?

 

And that’s why the author of this letter writes as he does.

He’s worried about the survival of the Church.

After all, it was under threat.

The various congregations to which he wrote felt insecure…

and uncertain about their future…

because they were facing considerable opposition and oppression.

That’s why he wrote to them––

to try to encourage them…

to try to strengthen their resolve.

And he does it here–– 

in our reading this morning––

by focussing on God’s power…

a power that he describes as operating through Christ…

whom God…

“seated…at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion”.

In a world that saw all sorts of malevolent, demonic forces…

at work behind hostile earthly forces…

this author asserts that Christ is more powerful––

that Christ is more powerful than all of the forces that influence…

or control…

or threaten their life and existence.

And, today, as we celebrate the “reign of Christ”––

as we reflect upon the image of Christ as king––

this author’s image of an all-powerful cosmic ruler is incredibly attractive.

Faced with uncertainty, we seek a God who is strong and powerful.

Faced with insecurity, we seek a God who protects and guards.

Faced with threat and danger, we seek a God who rescues, saves, and preserves.

It’s only natural and instinctual to seek out… 

to crave…

a God who is powerful…

a God who won’t let anything happen to us or to the Church.

 

And yet…

as he sat in a Nazi prison awaiting his execution…

contemplating the nature of God…

the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, powerfully declared––

if you’ll excuse the non-inclusive language––

that…

“Man’s religiosity makes him look in his distress to the power of God in the world; he uses God as a Deus ex machina. The Bible however directs him to the powerlessness and suffering of God”.

And, despite its lofty exaltation of the power of God revealed in Jesus Christ…

the letter to the Ephesians––

in the end––

still begins with that basic premise:

namely, that God’s power is rooted… 

and grounded…

and manifested…

in the crucified Jesus.

In the end, God’s power is paradoxically seen in powerlessness.

Symbolically…

sacramentally…

God’s power is seen in allowing God’s-self to be destroyed…

to be crushed…

to be obliterated…

seemingly to cease to exist;

and, only then, to rise from the ashes…

to be reborn and renewed…

to be transformed;

in order to demonstrate that life is stronger than death…

and that the forces of chaos and destruction will not ultimately prevail.

That is the paradoxical nature of the power of God revealed to us in Jesus Christ.

 

And it’s something that we… 

as the Church… 

forget at our peril.

Maybe…

just maybe…

the Church is not called to be big…

or successful…

or prosperous.

In so doing, are we not buying into the ideology of our world?

Are we not, at heart, operating out of fear…

or out of a primitive instinct for survival?

Rather, to quote Bonhoeffer…

and, again, excuse the non-inclusive language:

“The Church…must take her part in the social life of the world, not lording it over men, but helping and serving them”.

In striving to be big, successful, or prosperous…

are we not, in effect, denying our true calling––

a calling to be a living symbol of God’s paradoxical power at work in the world?

Maybe…

just maybe…

the Church is actually called to put aside its concerns about survival…

and to embrace being small, and weak, and vulnerable, and seemingly powerless.

Because, only in so doing, is the Church able to incarnate the loving…

vulnerable…

powerless power of God…

and be a true reflection of the Christ whose body it is;

only in so doing, is the Church able–– 

with integrity––

to stand with those who experience the pain and powerlessness of life…

strengthening and encouraging them…

and thereby transforming the world.

Only, in so doing, is the Church–– 

in fact–– 

genuinely incarnating the kingdom of God…

and helping to bring closer its ultimate fulfilment.