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“A Good Death?”

I used to hear the phrase, “It was a good death.”  But I think all of us can agree there’s nosuch thing as a “good death.”  Whether you’re 95 and have lived a long full life and die peacefully in your sleep, or whether you die in a car accident at age 26 – death is hard.  But there are degrees of dying, dying well and not dying well.

And the difference is not to be found just in the circumstances: You can die at 26 in a car accident and still die well.  No, it’s not our circumstances that make the difference.  It’s our outlook and understanding of death that makes the difference.  And that’s hard for us to hear, because we don’t like to talk about death.  We might talk about it in abstract terms, sure.  But thinking about our own death… that’s another matter.

We don’t like to think abpout our own death because we fear death.  We fear death because it’s unknowable, uncontrollable – and if human beings are anything, we’re creatures who like to know and to be in control.

• We don’t know what it will be like to be dead – we can’t imagine life apart from… well, life.
• Don’t know what it will be like to die.  Even though we might see some ideas in the tabloids by the checkout counter, the fact is that no one can really claim to know what it’s like to go all the way and come back.
• We don’t know when our death will be, so it’s hard to really plan for it.
• We have faith that there’s something (and Someone) waiting for us on the other side, but we can’t really claim to know much beyond that.

And so we treat death the same way we treat other problems we don’t understand or can’t solve.  We ignore it.  Even popular wisdom tells us that running away from your problems won’t solve them – just watch a Disney movie and you can learn that.  But for some reason, we usually decide it’s still OK to do it in some areas of our lives.

“Teach us to number our days…”

We might ignore the fact ouf our death, but the biblical writers do not ignore it.  The Psalms are full of these kinds of reminders (39:4 and 90:12 are a couple of examples).  Look at Ecclesiastes – quite a depressing look at life based on the writer’s understanding of his own death.  While we are used to thinking about the theological significance of it, it’s sobering to note the various times Jesus alludes to his coming death.  We find detailed examples of great saints who died well – Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and David to name a few.  The biblical writers could not “put off” death as we are able to – with medicines and life support.  Death was a daily reality – one you could not afford to ignore.

In movies, cartoons, fables and fairy tales, you find death personified – a tall man in a black robe with a sickle, for instance… notice that it’s usually something frightening.  I think that people began to do this in order to come to terms with the fact of death – to try to clarify their relationship with a cloudy and unknown thing.

And that’s really what it’s about when we come down to it: finding a proper way to relate with our inevitable enemy.  We can run from death (ignore it, pretend we don’t have to worry about it), or we can run TO death (obsess over it, worry about it, consider suicide).  Either way we do not have a proper relationship to death – it is master over us, and not the opposite.

Coming to Terms with Death

I’ve thought of a few things that may help as we come to terms with our own death, to come with a right relationship with it.  You can probably think of more.  But these are things that we, as Christians, understand about deth that can help us put things into perspective.

First, death is not a wall – it is a doorway.  It’s not the end.  We know this, but I don’t think we always remember it correctly.  Death is not “point-B” in the point-A to point-B route.  Our lives are point-E to point-F in the continuum of Alpha to Omega.  Of all people, Christians should be prepared to live this way!

Second, we do not have to die alone – we’ve lived in a Christian community, and we can die in the midst of community.

I love to fly, but I’m always uncomfortable when they’re explaining the emergency procedures.  I don’t like to think about a plane wreck, but it does happen.  And I suppose it’s good to be prepared.  But as uncomfortable as it is to think about a plane wreck, there’s something that’s even harder for me to imagine.  Have you even been able to sit in an emergency exit row?  I remember my first time.  I thought, “this is great!  Look at all this leg room!”  Then the flight attendant knelt next to me and started explaining my responsibilities.

Responsibilities?  Who wants to stand at the door of a burning plane and help OTHERS out?  And yet airline folks know just how crucial these people can be in a crash – someone standing there, calling out, helping others across the threshold to safety.  If it were up to us all to do it by ourselves, we’d probably lose twice as many people in airplane incidents.  That’s the difference between dying alone and dying in community.

Third, we don’t know everything about death – there’s no one to tell us about it.  But GOD DOES.  And we know that the God who made life is, in some way, responsible for the fact of death as well.  He’s the master of death, and he can bring us through.

Living Life to the Full

Finally, it’s helpful to know there’s some good in coming to terms with our own death.  Not only does it help us die well – it helps us LIVE WELL.  In fact, some might argue that we can only truly gain mastery over life itself when we choose to acknowledge its temporariness.

Pretend we found out this morning that the world’s oil problem is much bigger than we ever realized, and that we’re going to run out of gasoline and oil products by the end of the year.  Think of all the different places we use oil products and how this would affect our lives.  How would you live differently in light of that understanding?  What kind of changes would you make to your lifestyle?

Now what would you think if I told you someone knew, but decided they were just going to pretend the problem didn’t exist.  They kept driving their truck that got 5 miles to the gallon, refused to think about finding an alternative source of transportation or an alternative heating source.

Now, if we all choose to understand and live in light of our death, how might we live life differently?  What kinds of things do you do now that you wouldn’t do?  What kinds of things would you want to make sure were done?  How about our relationship to God?  Deciding to live lives of discipleship instead of putting it off until later, as we tend to do?

I’m not saying we should live the “next five minutes” theology – we’d never get anything done.  We can never have our loose ends all tied up… there are just too many.  This is (once again) allowing death to rule our lives.  But there is a middle ground.  We can live in such a way that, if we were to die right now, we could look back and say, “I may not have been completely ready, but I had the important stuff taken care of.”

What is that important stuff?  It’s different for every one of us.  And the fact is, we have no control over what happened yesterday, and no control over what happens tomorrow.  But we DO have control over right now – this moment.

So this is the moment to think… and the moment to choose.  Choose to live in the light of death.  I think we’ll find that life can be all the richer if we do.

Henceforward, I will not.

I get some of my best writing done in airports.  I’m not sure why that is… I think it’s because when I’m in an airport, I’m usually waiting on something.  I think a lot when I’m waiting.

Waiting affords us the chance to think a little more deeply about things than we usually do.  I think we’re lost the art of waiting, much like we’re lost the art of silence.  We don’t like silence anymore – when things are quiet, we start to think, start to deal with the stuff that’s going on in our heads.  Waiting is the same way – it gives us time to think, so we would rather occupy ourselves another way: shopping, listening to music, reading a book, just walking around the airport.  We can’t just sit still and think and wait.

There’s something about “active waiting” that makes us come to terms with what we’re waiting on.  I’m waiting to get on an airplane for a long journey.  And up until now (after a 24-hour weather delay), I haven’t had time to sit and realize how much I’ve been looking forward to this trip.  I’ve been waiting, hoping, expecting.  And now the time is almost here.  Just sitting still for these few minutes has helped me see more clearly what I’m waiting on, what I expect and hope to happen.  It’s a moment of active waiting, and I think it will make the moment – when it arrives – even more clear and special because I really took time to WAIT for it.

Come to think of it, we spend a good deal of our lives waiting on something – actively or passively.  I’m not just talking about waiting in lines or waiting in traffic; we do plenty of that too.  But what about those intangible things?  Waiting for Mr. or Ms. Right to come along; waiting for our big break; waiting for that annoying pain to go away; waiting for things to finally go our way; waiting for that bad thing we just know is going to happen; waiting to die.

We wait.  It’s part of being limited to one-way time travel.  And if we counted all the moments we spent waiting for things vs. all those moments we actually spent enjoying the things we were waiting for… well, let’s just say we’d find things way out of balance.  It would be even worse when we realize that usually when we come to a moment we’ve been expecting, we’re too busy waiting for the NEXT moment to even notice.

What if we lived our lives in active waiting instead of passive waiting?  What if we took the time, on occasion, to sit and really WAIT – to think about the things we’re expecting and what that expectation is doing to us?  Will getting married REALLY change things?  Will that baby REALLY make things better between us?  Will this vacation REALLY be just what I need?

I think if we all took more time to actively wait, we just might find that our expectations and the actual realities will match up more often.  And in the meantime, we’ll learn to appreciate the other 98% of our lives… the time we spend waiting.

Lent is on the way. It’s a season I look to with both excitement and dread. Excitement, because it is a very meaningful time of year to me. Dread, because I know that my habit is usually to give something up. I dread that because not only is it a hard thing to do, it’s something I usually end up giving in to at some point or another (I dread the guilt, in other words!).

And I must confess that I have a difficult time understanding the traditions behind Lent, as well – things like Mardi Gras and Fat/Shrove Tuesday, the idea that fasting only takes place on the weekdays, not eating meat and so on. These are things I’ve done a little research into, and I understand the basic idea and all… I just don’t think it makes the season any more meaningful to me. It’s probably a result of the tradition I grew up in, in which folks talked about things like Lent and Advent in the same hushed tones of voice that they used to talk about satanic rituals and cult gatherings.

Things have changed for me (fortunately). But while I understand Lent now and the penitence that many observe, I still confess to some ignorance of all the traditions surrounding it.

I remember in high school when some older friends of mine decided to “get saved” and join the church. At a lunch after worship on the Sunday they were baptized, they told us how they’d spent their Saturday night: They’d gone out drinking, smoking, having sex, and all kinds of other crazy things (or at least they told us they did, and judging from how I’d seen them act at other times, I didn’t find it hard to believe). Our youth leader was shocked and seemed sad. I remember simply being confused. At the time, it didn’t make sense. Now it does make sense, I’m sorry to say – too much sense.

This year, I’ve decided to “add on” instead of taking away. I’m going to get up on the weekdays and go over to the church early for prayer and devotion. I’ll do it at a time that will allow others to join me before they head to work or other tasks, and I hope some others will join me. This is something I don’t do regularly enough, I admit. I don’t know if it will be meaningful or not, but I certainly know it’ll do me more good than giving up chocolate.

But that’s me. If you’re reading this, how do YOU plan to observe Lent this year? Are you used to observing it at all? How does your church observe Lent?

A couple of weeks ago, Chuck Warnock  from Chatham Baptist put up a post about a service his church was doing on MLK day, bringing together the races in a service in honor of the legacy of Dr. King.  While I’ve been at Kenbridge, we’ve celebrated MLK day in some way during the worship service on that Sunday, but I must admit I’m intrigued and inspired by the idea of having a community service on that day…

But in the meantime, I was unable to find an appropriate responsive prayer for our Sunday service, so I wrote one.

“We Have a Dream”
A prayer of confession in observance of
Martin Luther King, Jr. Day
January 20, 2008

We have a dream, O Lord.
We share a holy dream:
We dream of a world united in love,
Where boundaries are broken down.
We dream of a world where justice is done,
Where all are treated as friends.
We dream of a world where God is the King,
Where all can share in his glory.
We dream of a world where evil is banished,
Where war and death are no more.

And while we dream, we confess O Lord
That we don’t always work to see it come true;
That sometimes, in spite of ourselves, we even work against it.
By our hatred, narrow-mindedness and pride,
Our partiality toward those of our own race,
Religion, class, political party;
Yes, Lord, even prejudice against our own brothers and sisters in Christ
Whose beliefs are different from our own.
These are born of nothing more than fear, O God.
Fear of something different from ourselves;
Fear that we might end up loving
what we once thought was unlovable.
We confess our failure to dream, O Lord.
Help us to dream again.

Help us to dream your dream, O Lord.
Help us to live the dream,
So when we wake from this darkened life,
We’ll find the dream come true.

July 8, 2007 – Pentecost 6 (C)

Luke 15:11-32 and Matthew 20:1 ff

Introduction: A Sad Story

I’m going to tell you a sad true story that happened to me once – final proof for me that life just isn’t fair sometimes. And I want to get a good “AWWWWW…” from you when I’m done. So let’s practice it, OK?

Back when I was younger, 4^th grade I think, Nintendo was the king of the video game world. Remember those NES machines with the little cartridges you put in the slot? Video games have changed a lot since then.

Well I had a friend, who I’d gone to school with for a while, who had a stash of games. He had TONS of them. And one weekend I had a friend coming over who really liked the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so I asked Todd if I could borrow his.

He said no, and he never said why really. He had stopped playing it a long time ago. I also knew he had just gotten it back from lending it to someone else. I told him these things, and he still said no. He would not give me the game… even just for a couple of days.

So I fumed and fretted, I even cried, then I called back and asked again. All to no avail. So that weekend, all my friend and I could do was to sit around and stare at the walls.

OK, so we found plenty to do. But I never forgot that moment, when I expected to get the video game but didn’t. At the time, it was the most unfair thing I had ever experienced. And it still makes me sad today.

[this is the point at which you say, AWWWW…]

Fairness and Unfairness

CS Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, states that fairness and unfairness are basic elements of human life. We are all born with a sense of what’s fair and just, and what is not.

No one has to tell my little Kaitlyn, at 15 months, that it’s not fair when Abigail comes up and snatches a toy she was playing with. It’s innate for her, and it is for us as well. We didn’t learn it from a book or a course on morality – we’re born with a sense of basic right and wrong that is universal to most all cultures. Lewis thinks this is proof of an “intelligent design,” though he wouldn’t use those terms today.

Life just isn’t fair sometimes. It stinks. And most often, it’s unfair in my direction! At least that’s the way I want to see it! And we HATE the unfairness of it – it grates at the very core of our being.

And so we spend a good bit of our time in childhood and adolescence trying to figure out how to come to terms with that fact. Somewhere deep inside we have this feeling that life ought to be fair, that all the scales out to balance out somewhere.

And how do we resolve it? Lots of ways:

• Sometimes we say, “they’ll get what’s coming to them eventually” – how many times have I thought this as someone nearly runs me off the road passing me on 360 or on the way to Blackstone? I always look for the State Trooper to catch them around the corner.
• Or maybe we try to put ourselves in the shoes of the other person – this is my favorite tactic lately. “He must really be in trouble to have to go that fast.” But even then, while this is a good and optimistic outlook on other people, it’s just as possible that this guy was just being careless and stupid.
• Finally, if all else fails, we can always pull out the “end-of-time card:”
  • Either, “He’s going to get what’s coming to him when he answers to God for that!”
  • Or, we fall back on this notion of “stars in our crown,” thinking that there are going to be “just rewards” handed out in heaven – a notion that, popular as it is, I have really found little scriptural evidence for.

Unfairness in the Parables

We’ve just read two stories that I remember from growing up in church, and thinking, “that’s not really fair, is it?”

• Luke 15 – This story of the prodigal son and the older brother (which, by the way, modern translations are beginning to call “the Compassionate Father” instead of the “Prodigal Son”)
  • Background: For the story of the brothers, the beginning point was the complaint by the Pharisees that Jesus was eating with all the “sinners” – tax collectors, prostitutes, and town vagrants. If he was so righteous, why would he be hanging out with THOSE kinds of folks?
• Matthew 20 – The parable of the workers who all get paid the same wages at the end of the day .
  • This parable comes after the encounter with the rich young ruler, who turned away when Jesus asked him to give up all he had. Then Peter pipes up and says, “you know, Jesus, WE’VE given up everything and followed you… what will WE get”

Jesus tells these stories in response to two real-life versions of the older brother complaining about someone else getting a reward!

So SURELY, we would think, this is place where Jesus will give us the answer! Finally, an answer to all the unfair things that happen in my life!

We may THINK Jesus is going to fix it. But while these are good parables and well-told stories, Jesus actually doesn’t do a thing to address the unfairness of the situations:

• At the end of the parable of the workers, he basically says, “God can be generous to whom he wants to be generous.”
• At the end of the parable of the compassionate father, he says, “You’re right, you’ve been here and been faithful. But let’s go celebrate this lost brother who has come home.”

Never in one place does Jesus “fix” it for us. He doesn’t come in at the very end and say, “now later, that younger brother got what was coming to him. His Daddy laid into him with the razor strap and grounded him for weeks.” He doesn’t say, “when those workers came back the next day, they got half the wages of everyone else.” He doesn’t even pull the end-of-all-time card – “he’ll pay for that when he comes before the throne of judgment.”

I remember being disappointed when I first sat down and studied these two parables a long time ago. Life just isn’t fair, and when Jesus tells stories like this, we want RESOLUTION. We have this notion that the coming Kingdom of God is going to make everything fair and just.

But Jesus stubbornly refuses to try and answer our question. So this parable Jesus told about the workers is usually ignored. And when we read about the prodigal son (or the compassionate father) we usually end when he’s put the cloak and ring on him and brought him in for the feast. We don’t like to be reminded that this black sheep son, who squandered all the family money and practically slapped his father in the face by asking for his inheritance before he died – this wayward, sinful boy got a feast fit for a king, while the ever-present, responsible, and trustworthy got no special treatment at all!

Getting Into Uncomfortable Sandals

I have a confession, and it’s probably one you could make as well. Like most of us, I secretly put myself in the sandals of the older brother. That also puts me in the place of Peter and the Pharisees. And those are uncomfortable sandals to fill.

And why are we uncomfortable? Let’s face it: we’re not mad at the prodigal son, are we? The brother was only a little mad at the prodigal – he expected as much from him. And the Pharisees expected the prostitutes and tax collectors to act the way they did.

No, Peter, the Pharisees, the older brother – they were mad at GOD. They were mad because God wasn’t making thing right like he was “supposed” to. Isn’t this our normal reaction when something unfair happens?

So we see that someone else was saying “it’s not fair” along with us – but it’s not the crowd we want to be lumped into! Here we are, the older brothers and sisters, arms crossed and feet tapping. We DESERVE an answer to this question! We have to make sense of this or the world may collapse around us. But God doesn’t give us the answer we want.

That’s when we have to remember that there are really only two characters in the story of the prodigal son – the Father, and the wayward child. And the main character of all these stories – the story of the prodigal son, the story of the workers, the story of Peter and the rich ruler, the story of the Pharisees and the sinners… the story of you and I – the main character is not YOU and ME – not the older siblings who were “wronged” in some way and wanted it to be made right.

The real main character is GOD – who was wronged in the most unfair way imaginable… and chose the path of love instead.

While we might like to imagine ourselves in the sandals of the older brother, NONE of us can really claim to be that way. Not one of us. Because every one of us has, at some point, been the prodigal son. I know, some of you might cringe at this, but let’s be honest – most of us have more in common with the prodigal. I know I do – and I can at least speak for myself.

We can’t step into the sandals of the older brother because that’s not where we belong. If Peter had stopped in his tracks and thought for a second before he wagged his finger at the rich young ruler, he would have realized – you know, just a few weeks ago Jesus called me “satan” because I was tempting him.

And if the Pharisees had stopped in their tracks before they wagged their fingers at the prostitutes and tax collectors, they would have come to the realization that would have saved them: We’ve done wrong too, because we love our religion more than we love the God we worship.

Another Kind of Unfairness

So before we get out our step ladder and climb up on our high horse, let’s look at an unspoken element that makes sense of the whole thing – at least to me…

Things DO work out in the end, all the scales ARE balanced in the end. But not in the way we want to think. We think a “whipping” is basically the way that these things work themselves out in the end – whether it’s a belt, or a ticket from a state trooper, or standing before the judgment throne.

But that’s not the point of any of it. In fact, in all our talking so far, we’ve missed the BIG POINT.

And here it is:

The big point is not how unfair it is that God accepts this prodigal son. The point is how unfair it is that God accepts ANY OF US AT ALL.

And it really IS unfair, if you think about it… God created human beings to love him and take care of the earth, and only a few days later they have done something he asked them not to do – they sinned. And it all went downhill from there. Murder, greed, jealousy, lies… and that’s just in the book of Genesis!

God’s people keep running away from God, and yet, God keeps accepting them back. He brings them out of Egypt and they complain in the desert, but he takes them back. They build a golden calf, but he takes them back. They chase after other gods, ignore the poor and helpless, sometimes even curse God to his face. But he STILL takes them back.

And in a final act to show just how much he will accept us, God sends his Son to live among us, to walk the hard and dusty roads with us – to love us and heal us of diseases we didn’t even know about.

And what did we do in return? We killed him. And we continue to be sinful and stubborn even today.

It’s just unfair, the way we treat God sometimes. And he could have chosen the path of revenge – lightning bolts from the sky and fire from heaven. He could have chosen the path of strict justice – wipe out the earth again with a flood or natural disaster.

If anyone can say, “that’s not fair,” it’s God. And if anyone has a right to finally slam the door in our face, it’s God.

But he doesn’t. He brings us back in the door, time and time again. Puts the robe on us for the 100^th time, gives us the ring again. Lays out the feast before us, almost a if we’d never been gone.

When God was treated unfairly, he decided to be “unfair” in return – but not in the way that we think of “unfairness.” He decided to be “unfair” and not hold the sin against us. He decided to forgive, decided to love. Love doesn’t have to play by the rules of fair and unfair – love has its own set of rules.

The Solution: What Can We Do?

So what can we do when life (or someone in our life) just doesn’t seem fair to us? Some people choose to be warriors, fighting back every time something happens. Some people have resigned themselves to being doormats, taking a beating over and over again.

But those aren’t the only ways, not the best ways. We can do something, something more powerful than getting even. We can do what Jesus did, what God does for us over and over again: Choose to love anyway.

Remember what Jesus says about how we react when life’s not fair? When someone hits you, turn the other cheek. If someone takes your cloak, give them your shirt too. If someone makes you walk a mile, walk another mile with them.

It sounds silly. It sounds weak. But look at how POWERFUL we become when we do things the world doesn’t expect when things aren’t fair.

During the Civil Rights movement, people who were opposed to segregation were urged to be calm, quiet and loving. The rest of the world expected them to riot, to shoot, to do awful things. But they didn’t. Instead, they chose a different path, and I personally think that’s the reason things changed. People didn’t know what to think!

And that’s what makes the gospel such a powerful message. No matter how unfairly we may have treated God, he chooses to take us in anyway.

Men, I know this is a hard word for us. It sounds like running from a fight. But it’s not. It’s Jesus’ way of doing something much more powerful than a fist could ever accomplish. Because when we strike back, we play into their hands – we act just like we’re supposed to. It’s when we do something DIFFERENT that people start to notice.

This is love, this is forgiveness – treating someone fairly even when they’ve been unfair to us.

Conclusion

So while I wish I could send you from this place to a world that is fair and just, I can make no such promises. And only God knows how things will work out in the end. But in the meantime, we have a job to do that’s hard, one that makes no sense to us or to anyone else.

But it’s the job that saves us. And it’s an act that will make folks notice.

June 3, 2007

Trinity Sunday (C)

Dancing is a beautiful sight, if it’s done right. Recently, our church has developed a ministry for our young girls who want to dance, giving them the opportunity to lead us in worship through their movements. I love to watch good dancers at work practicing their art. “Dancing with the Stars” has brought dancing back into the public eye, and I think we’ll see a lot more young people getting into different kinds of dance because of it. That’s a great thing.

What does this have to do with the Trinity? You’ll find out…

How do we talk about the Trinity? It’s one thing to give little illustrations like the one I used for the children’s sermon, but the fact is that this is an awfully hard concept to understand – and one that no one has completely gotten, even though there have been BOOKS and BOOKS written about it.

And why is it important to, anyway?

It’s not up to us to understand every nuance of the Trinity, but it does help us to understand where the doctrine came from and how it makes a difference to us today.

1. It describes the God we worship.

There is the idea that there’s less of a need for the Trinity today than there used to be, or that it was once more understood than it is today. I don’t think this is true. People have ALWAYS had trouble understanding the Trinity. In the days when Christians sadly killed other Christians who didn’t believe just like them, people were killed over this very doctrine.

There is also the idea that this doctrine was just made up out of the blue, or patched together out of a bunch of separate ideas. This would be easy to believe since, even though there are 120 or more references to the trinity in the Bible, there is no direct teaching on the Trinity to be found in all the scriptures. While it’s true that the doctrine was not fully developed until nearly 400 years after Jesus, this does not mean that it was thrown together on a whim. Far from it – the early Christians debated and argued over who Jesus was and what to make of the Father and Spirit for years and years before an agreement was finally reached.

Not just there for confusion – The Trinity wasn’t just put together because people wanted something confusing about their religion. Who on earth wants a complex, mysterious and baffling religion?! We are no different from the earliest human beings in our desire for a religion that is simple, easy to understand and to practice. No, this complex doctrine of three in one was not something people came up with to make Christianity more attractive – if anything, it has made Christianity less attractive over the centuries!

Doctrine describes experience – No, the Trinity came about, like many other doctrines, because people needed a name for something they had already experienced. The disciples were almost all Jews who believed in God long before they ever met Jesus for the first time. Yet, by the end of their three years with him, they had watched him perform countless miracles, suffer and die, and raise from the dead. By the time they saw their last of Jesus, these men had no other option but to believe that Jesus was, in some way, God himself.

Yet this “God himself” had gone out daily to pray to “God himself,” had even prayed with and for his followers. God praying to God? How could this be?

And this God, praying to God, promised that another Comforter would come and would remind them of all the things Jesus had said and done, would empower them to be his witnesses, would live inside them. And once that Spirit came, once again they had no choice but to understand that in some strange way God had come to live inside them too – not as Jesus, who had gone away, and not as the Father, to whom they still prayed and saw at work in the world. Here was yet a third “version” of God.

So what to do? First they had known God as someone removed and enthroned above. Then they had known God as someone who walked beside them. Then they had known God who lived within them. How to understand God in this way?

So the doctrine of the Trinity was born. Not because someone said, “hey, let’s come up with something really cool to make our religion different!” Not because Jesus had sat them down and given them a lecture about it. But because, like all of us, they struggled to find a way to express the things they had experienced of God.

Following the map – What difference does the Trinity make to us? According to C.S. Lewis, doctrines of theology like the Trinity make the same difference to us that a map makes. We look at maps of the Atlantic Ocean today, and we see a lot of blue with spots and typing on it. But while it seems simple to us, what’s actually represented on that map is something very different than a piece of paper with blue ink on it.

It’s one thing to look at a map of the ocean, and another thing to stand on the beach and look at it. It’s one thing to run your finger across the Atlantic ocean on your desk globe, and another thing to get on a canoe in Virginia Beach and strike out for England. Even though the map may look tame, the ocean is anything but tame. And the map will help us get from one side to the other.

And we have that map because every island dot, every beach, every trade route was tediously explored and mapped by sailors over the course of centuries. Now that we’ve been in space, we can make pictures of the world and make maps of places we’ve never been. But before that time, every map had to be made by someone going there – writing out and drawing their own experiences on paper for those who come behind them.

Relying on the experiences of our forebears – So in something that is so complex, so difficult to grasp, we find something that is absolutely essential. It would be silly (and suicidal) to hop in a canoe and head to England without a map and compass – we have to rely on the experiences and wisdom of those who came before us. It would be just as silly to set out to know a God without the wisdom of those who have experienced him before us. And those who experienced God before us have experienced him as Trinity.

Makes us distinct – The Doctrine of the Trinity makes Christianity distinct. No other religion has a God who is at once enthroned in heaven, walking and suffering alongside us as one of us, and living within us and empowering us to do his will. Whether you realize it or not, you

2. You don’t have to understand it to be able to appreciate it.

The older I get, the more I know that I DON’T know. I understand my limitations. And to me, the mystery of God, the vastness of our amazing God – is both frightening to me AND comforting.

While he was working on the doctrine of the Trinity, St. Augustine had a dream one night in which he saw a little boy on the beach. The by had dug a hole in the sand, and he had a spoon and was trying desperately to spoon the water of the ocean into the hole – which of course swallowed up the water within moments. An angel told Augustine: this is how it is with humans trying to understand God. Our minds simply cannot hold it all.

It’s frightening because, like Augustine, we come to realize that there IS something bigger than us. It’s incomprehensible, impossible to understand. As humans, we want things that are simple and things we can control (just look at modern science and technology). But God is neither. I think that might be why so many modern folks are beginning to reject the notion of God altogether.

But it’s also comforting.

As uncontrollable as we are, we can take comfort in the fact that someone IS in control.

As often as we face uncertainty, we know there IS someone who knows.

As small and inconsequential as we feel sometimes, there IS someone who cares for us.

As little as we can do, there IS someone who can do the impossible.

3. It is the whole reason we exist.

This is where it gets practical.

Think of the relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit as the kind that is developed in a true, loving marriage or a deep friendship. In some way that is indescribable, the two really do become one – they begin to complete one another’s thoughts, to understand the other and know what the other needs. There’s trust and honesty that overcome the normal walls we usually put up between ourselves and other people. The two people are still individuals, and yet they are together making a oneness that is bigger than their individual selves. It’s like we live in a dance – moving together to the same music, moving in the same directions, following and leading, working together and not apart.

Now, if you live in that kind of relationship – if you have that kind of marriage or friendship with someone – you know that it’s not an easy thing. In fact, it’s one of the hardest things we do because it requires us to live outside ourselves. And as wonderful as it is, for some of you it might be all you need – you might be perfectly happy if you could move to a deserted island with that person for the rest of your life!

But as satisfying as that kind of relationship is, and as hard as it would be to share it, imagine what it would be like if you could extend that relationship to include EVERYONE. What kind of place would our world be if we could all relate to each other that way?

Well, that’s exactly what has happened on a divine level. God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit have existed for as long as time has been. They have a perfect relationship of love and care for one another, understanding and knowing each other perfectly as One. And God could have stayed that way forever, never needing anything or anyone else. They have always existed in a beautiful dance.

And yet, God chose to make others. And not just to make others, but to offer those others a chance to join in the dance – those ‘others’ are you and me, in case you didn’t realize it. God made us in his image, and has given all of us the chance to join in that beautiful dance, the relationship of perfect love and care.

And rather than that ruining what was there (“three’s a crowd… or in God’s case, Three’s company and FOUR’s a crowd), the dance becomes even more beautiful because all of creation is joining in. And God’s desire is that ALL of creation might join in the dance at last!

Now you and I have a choice. We can work against the dance – step on toes, trip others up, generally move against the flow – or we can join the dance, and invite others to join as well. You can call it salvation, redemption, whatever you like. But when we accept God’s love, we join into that perfect relationship – and begin to extend that kind of relationship to others.

Closing

So this funny little doctrine of the Trinity turns out to be anything but trivial. It’s the whole root of who God is, and what God intends to do with the world.

Does it sound froofy and mysterious? It is. Does it sound confusing? It is. Does it sound campy and far-fetched? It is. And that’s OK. And despite all that, these are the basic building blocks of our faith – the truth of what others have experienced about God, and what YOU and I can experience about God.

So does the doctrine of the Trinity make a difference to you and to me? Absolutely. All the difference in the world.

May 27, 2007 – Pentecost Sunday

Acts 2:1-12

Introduction: Expectations

Expectations are powerful things.

Not too long after we first got married, Tanya and I learned that we have differing expectations in several areas. One of those areas is vacation…

Expectations are powerful things.

Making expectations is something all of us do. An expectation happens when you think ahead about an event or a conversation and form your own ideas of how you’d like that thing to go. Most of you probably had expectations when you came in to Sunday School this morning. Many of you have expectations for this worship service – maybe you expect to leave as a changed person. Maybe you expected to cry this morning. Maybe you have high expectations of my sermon.

Expectations play a crucial role in almost every kind of relationship we have. We have expectations for our marriages, and as a pastor and a sometimes-counselor, I have seen that expectations play a very large role in how well couples get along and stay together. Most often, young couples these days have unrealistic expectations of marriage that they get from TV, movies and love songs. They think that marriage is going to solve all their problems – they’ll suddenly be happier all the time, less likely to get upset, less likely to get angry at one another. We’ll agree on everything, and we’ll all live happily ever after. My spouse will ALWAYS be understanding, loving, helpful, sensitive, and right at my side when I need him or her. That’s a pretty tall order for ANY human being!

Expectations, the experts say, are an important part of management. If we want the best from those we lead, we have to EXPECT the best. If you’re expecting someone under you to act lazily and turn in poor performance, then it’s likely they’ll meet your expectations. But experts say if you expect the best from someone and treat them that way, then you’ll get the best from them. This generally holds true in all areas of life, I think.

Including parenthood… but parenthood is another matter all together. We have to expect the best from our children – but it has to be a REALISTIC best. We can’t simply expect them to excel at school, football, baseball, math, shop class, community service, gymnastics, music and art. That’s placing UNREALISTIC expectations on them. No human being is capable of the expectations we place on our children sometimes, and they know that. We wonder why they grow up to have low self-esteem and don’t want to do anything – all their lives, they’ve been expected to do too many things they simply can’t do.

But as powerful as expectations are, there’s something that’s even more powerful – UNMET EXPECTATIONS. When we expect a certain outcome, and did not expect anything different, we suddenly find ourselves disappointed. Unmet expectations can make us hurt and vulnerable. Our marriage doesn’t turn out quite as we’d expected – lo and behold, we DO fight, we disagree from time to time, and we’re not 100% happy all day long. Lo and behold, our children aren’t the top of every single activity we enroll them in. Lo and behold, my sermon is not what you might have expected it to be.

And it’s those unmet expectations that can maim our spirits for the rest of our lives. When our expectations are unmet, we can either change our expectations, deal with them, or harbor bitterness and anger over those unmet expectations. And that bitterness is lethal.

If we continue to have unmet expectations in marriage, something will eventually have to give. If we continue to have unmet expectations in our work, then eventually we’ll be dissatisfied and want to move on. If your boss continues to have unmet expectations for you, then it’s likely you’ll be looking for another job soon. If we continue to have broken expectations from our church, then eventually we’ll want to go somewhere else.

Human beings and human institutions will always let us down. Even when we have realistic and achievable expectations of people, they will let us down. And after a while, it makes us cynical, makes us stop trusting people. Or worse, it makes us start expecting the WORST in people and things – and those kinds of expectations are the most dangerous, because they’re the ones that we most often find fulfilled! It’s a cycle that just keeps getting worse and worse…

Expectations of God

What kinds of things do we expect from God? Have you ever been disappointed in God? One book that had a profound influence on me is called Disappointment With God, by the author Philip Yancey. And at first I was afraid to pick it up – after all, who wants to admit they are disappointed with God?

But I have been, many times. When I’ve prayed for someone to be healed and it didn’t happen, when I realized the impact that my parents’ divorce had on me. Like many of you, I struggle with sins and temptations that I would be better off without – but God has not chosen to answer those prayers either. I have found, like Job did, that I’m disappointed with God from time to time.

And that disappointment with God is not about God himself, but about my expectations of him. I have expected God to act in a certain way – to answer this prayer that I pray repeatedly, to reward me for doing something I ought to do, to punish me for doing something I shouldn’t have. And on those instances where I do not find God doing what I wanted him to do, it’s like a little dent is made in my faith. And after a long time, all those dents begin to add up.

And if we let ourselves go further and further down this path, eventually we end up with no faith at all. Sure, we believe in God. But we believe in a God who doesn’t hear our prayers, who doesn’t answer when he hears, who refuses to intervene in situations where only he can do something.

And here’s the thing – It’s OK to come to this place. It’s OK to find yourself there. We all do. Job did, and countless other biblical figures did too – Abraham lost faith when God didn’t give him the son he promised right away. David lost faith when God didn’t win a particular battle for him. Even Jesus cried out on the cross, “My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

It’s OK to find yourself there. But it’s not OK to stay there.

Expectations of God

We have expectations of God, too. We expect God to act a certain way, to do miracles and to answer prayers. We expect him to fix things that are broken. We expect him to always give us a warm happy feeling when we come to him in prayer. Expectations were a big part of our discussion in the book of Job this spring – just what were Job and his friends expecting from God?

We have words in the Christian vocabulary for our expectations of God – faith. Hope. When we pray to God, we have FAITH that he will answer. When we or someone we love is sick, we have HOPE that God will work healing. When God has said he’ll do something, we have FAITH that he will do it – though sometimes we place unrealistic expectations on him to do that thing in a certain way or a certain time.

I’m not going to ask you to raise your hands if you’ve ever found yourself there. You know if you’ve been there sometimes – and it’s OK.

Pentecost

Looking back at the passage, I have to wonder what these disciples, these men and women, expected to happen while they waited. In the past two months, they have seen Jesus willingly march to Jerusalem where his enemies are waiting, preach bold messages right under their noses. They’ve watched as Jesus is arrested, crucified, buried, and raised again. They’ve watched him ascend into heaven with a promise that he’ll be back and that something good is about to happen.

And if we hadn’t heard the story already, what would WE expect, you and I? I think I would have expected something a little different than what happened that day – sound like a wind, a few tongues of flame hovering over people’s heads, some quick language learning… come on. Jesus did stuff lots more exciting than that! What about feeding all of Jerusalem with five loaves of bread and two fish? What about raising someone from the dead? What about all of the people of Israel suddenly being healed of their diseases?

But no. A little noise, a little fire, and a lot of preaching. And when it’s all said and done, we’re left asking the same question as those gathered there to hear Peter’s preaching: “What does this mean?”

But there’s a miracle here that we often overlook. And it’s a miracle that still happens today, over and over again.

There is a REAL and AMAZING miracle that takes place on that day of Pentecost – God changing lives, God changing hearts. The miracle is not the mighty rushing wind or the tongues of fire. The great miracle is not these men speaking in languages they’ve never learned.

The great miracle is this scared and huddled group of believers, locked for weeks behind closed doors, suddenly bursting out of the room and sharing their Good News with the world!

The great miracle is the hardened hearts of the Jews, who just a few weeks before had ordered Jesus to be crucified, suddenly responding in faith to the man they had had a hand in killing.

The great miracle doesn’t happen on the outside. It happens on the inside, where no one can see. But just like Jesus’ analogy of not seeing the wind but seeing its effects, so can we see the mighty effects of the Spirit’s work in their hearts.

Expecting God to Act

Sometimes our expectations for God are unmet. Sometimes he doesn’t answer that prayer, doesn’t send miraculous healing for that person. And then what do we do? We either have to change our ideas about God, or we begin to lose those expectations.

And eventually, we can end up cynical – thinking that God really doesn’t answer our prayers, that he’s not listening. Because of our broken expectations, we might think that God is actually out to get us, to do some harm to us because of something we’ve done. We can stop believing min miracles, stop believing in the power of prayer to change anything. It leaves our faith lifeless and useless. We suddenly believe in an impotent God.

And if we don’t see miracles around us happening every day, then maybe we need to change our expectations of miracles. Ever since Jesus left, those physical miracles – healings, feedings, natural phenomena – have been getting fewer and farther between. It’s not that God has stopped working miracles – it just seems he doesn’t do that kind as often anymore.

But here’s the key to what happened that Pentecost Day – those disciples EXPECTED God to do something. They may have expected him to do something different than he did, but they EXPECTED him to do SOMETHING. And because they were expecting it, they were in the right place and the right time when it happened.

God has the power to make the sun stand still, to part the sea, to shake the earth at its foundations. God has the power to heal the sick, to raise the dead, to feed the multitudes. God has the power to move the planets, to fling the stars into space. God has the power to work salvation on our behalf so that we can live in eternity.

But God also has the power to change the hearts of human beings. But have we forgotten to EXPECT him to do that?

How many times have we said of someone else, “That’s just the way they are, and they aren’t going to change.” We’ve trusted them too many times, and been disappointed too many times. We’ve see that they consistently do the things they are not supposed to. And so we write them off.

And “them” might be anyone – our spouse, our family members, someone who’s made themselves a thorn in our side… it might even be a whole community or a whole race of people. We come to a point when we stop believing it’s possible for them to change. And lo and behold, they DON’T change.

Or the “them” might be ourselves. Have I given up believing that God can change my heart and mind? Have I given up hope that he can cure me of the sinful problems I have? Have I given up hope that I can be any different than I am?

Have we given up hope that God can bring new people to this church? After all, everyone around here is “churched,” right? Are they really, or are we just excusing ourselves from our responsibility?

When we place those kinds of low expectations on someone, when we refuse to believe that God can change them or change us, we put ourselves in the awful position of judge and distant observer. Suddenly, we don’t have a responsibility toward them anymore. There’s no need to expect or hope that they will change. They won’t.

Imagine…

I want to try something with you. Close your eyes and imagine that person you think can never change – that person who you can’t trust anymore

Let’s imagine for a moment that they CAN change. Let’s imagine that no matter how many times they’ve broken our trust, no matter how many times they have hurt us, no matter how many times they have done the things they’re not supposed to do… let’s imagine that they can STILL change, even then. Would we treat them differently? Would we continue to share good news with them?

And let’s imagine for a moment that WE can change. Let’s imagine that we can wake up one morning and be free from that illness, that we could wake up and our bodies would be healed. Let’s imagine that we can walk out the doors of this church

Conclusion

We might be cynical about some of our human relationships, but we should NEVER be cynical about God. Because when we stop expecting God to do something, we miss it when he DOES. It’s not that God is bound up in our expectations of him. But we will miss what he’s doing because we’re not expecting it.

What do you expect God to do?

Psalm 23

April 29, 2007 – Easter 1 (c)

This is a familiar passage, one that has brought comfort to many people. But it probably brought the most comfort to David, who wrote it. David wrote from his experience of God, from his own experience of life. And this is the image that he came up with for God.

Of course, no image for God is perfect – they always fall short. But David’s image endures because it is perhaps the best illustration of God that human beings have yet developed. I tried to come up with a better illustration that matched it, but of course, you can’t beat David!

And here’s the important thing about our view of God: how we see God determines how we TREAT God. David’s image is usually used for comfort, but there are things in here that are not always comforting. Since this is the best image, let’s compare David’s image of God to OURS, and see what we find.

David had a shepherd. What kind of God do we have?

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

Shepherds made sure their sheep had all their NEEDS met… not their wants.

Sometimes, we want to say, “The Lord is my doting grandfather, who gives me everything I desire.”

Sometimes we want to say, “the Lord is my waiter, who is there at my beck and call.”

But that’s not David’s God. David had a shepherd.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.

Sheep are generally unintelligent creatures, and shepherds had to lead the sheep toward the grass. But he could not make them eat, and he could not make them drink.

Sometimes we want to say, “the Lord is my mother, who sits me at the table like an infant and spoon-feeds me.”

But that’s not David’s God. David had a shepherd.

He restoreth my soul.

Sheep often relied completely on the shepherd for nourishment, comfort, and guidance. When a sheep was sick, the shepherd cared for it. But then he’d put the sheep back out and let it heal on its own – you can only care for someone so much, you know.

Sometimes we want to say, “The Lord is my mechanic – he fixes me up and sends me off to run myself down again.”

Or maybe, “the Lord is my doctor – I only go to him when I’m sick.”

But that’s not David’s God. David had a shepherd.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

The word righteousness here means “right paths.” Horses and other smart animals can find their own way through difficult places. Sheep are not that way. Shepherds had to find a path for their sheep that was safe and kept them from harm. But ultimately, the shepherd could only lead – the sheep had to follow. He led them – he didn’t push.

Sometimes we want to say, “The Lord is my pilot. I’ll let him do all the work.”

But that’s not David’s God. David had a shepherd.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

The shepherd did his best to keep the sheep from harm, but sometimes things happened. Sometimes, they had to go through rough places. Even then the shepherd didn’t just whisk them away to another place! He didn’t take them out of the “valley of the shadow of death.” Instead, he reassured them and guided them with his staff.

Sometimes we want to say, ‘”The Lord is my hedge and my protector. He won’t let evil come near me.”

Or maybe, “The Lord is my bubble. If I’m really doing the right things, nothing bad will happen to me.”

But that’s not David’s God. David had a shepherd.

The way we see God will ultimately determine how we treat God, how we live our lives.

David had a shepherd. What kind of God do WE have?

Why the Cross Matters

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

A few weeks back, a new documentary came out called The Jesus Tomb.  It was put out by director James Cameron, who directed Titanic and lots of other very successful movies.  Turns out that in 1980, a group of archaeologists discovered a tomb with several ossuaries, boxes containing the bones of the deceased.  Names on those boxes include “Jesus, son of Joseph,” Mary, and even “Mariamene,” a name that was reportedly used to refer to Mary Magdalene.  The implications are serious, they claim:  Jesus was no more than a normal human being, who was married to Mary Magdalene, and who had children.  No cross and resurrection, no ascent into heaven.

And this documentary struck a chord in the media and the secular world.  It’s like they’re just grasping at anything that will come along these days to discredit Christianity.  And there’s a reason.  Paul nailed it on the head.  To them, any religion that’s founded on the fact that its great leader was killed has a problem.  It’s got to have a better foundation than that, doesn’t it?

Which just highlights the questions that secular historians – and even very liberal church scholars – have been asking for the past few decades: Can it really matter anymore that Jesus died?  There are some important events in history, and some very critical times even in Jesus’ life.  We can be friends with Jesus without having to buy into all that crucifixion stuff, can’t we?  It all just seems so violent and sad.

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  I mean, think of all the other people in the world who have died since then, and have had much longer and much worse ends.  Sure the cross was probably bad, but what about the people who have cancer that gets drawn way out?  What about the people with Parkinson’s or Lou Gherig’s Disease who watch their bodies slowly waste away over the course of years?  What about the Christians who were tortured by being burned at the stake, or drawn and quartered, or all those other terrible ways to die?  In the face of all that, can the cross really still matter?

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  Lots of people have died early deaths in history, people who have been more important in worldly terms.  Alexander the Great, Aristotle, Julius Caesar… JFK, Martin Luther King.  All these people had a bigger impact on the world than Jesus did… the only people that really knew him when he was alive were a handful of beggars, thieves, prostitutes and poor people.  Can it really matter anymore that this man died.

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  The cross is a powerful symbol, sure.  But there are symbols that are a lot more potent.  Think of symbols like the swastika, the sickle and hammer.  And there are good symbols, too.  Who doesn’t feel a spark of pride when they see the American flag?  Who doesn’t feel a little comforted when they see the Red Cross symbol?  Can the cross really still matter, with as many other symbols as there are out there today?  And besides, think of all the terrible things that have been done in the name of the cross of Christ. 

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  For a long time, Christianity seemed like the most sane religion in a world full of crazy religions – human sacrifices, unrealistic rules, foolish quests to please gods who may or may not have cared what was being done.  Jesus seemed like a breath of fresh air in a room full of stuffy and violent religions.  But now, there are lots more alternatives.  Buddhism preaches peace and well-being, kindness toward all human beings.  Hinduism teaches that we all have a second chance.  Islam teaches intense devotion to a God who has done everything for us.  There are so many other good alternatives to Christianity – does it really still matter anymore that Jesus died?

And besides, can it really matter that Jesus died?  We’ve all heard the rumors and we know that people are beginning to doubt that he really died, that he really rose from the dead.  If he was buried in the Jesus Tomb like the movie says, he probably died a normal death!  He was a good man, right?  That’s what they say.  And his message was powerful, and it’s done a lot of good.  Let’s put all this crucifixion stuff behind us and focus on the good things that Jesus did.  Surely it doesn’t matter anymore whether Jesus actually died.

—

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  Why don’t you ask a young man in prison, who’s there because he stole and he lied and he murdered someone… all because he was a slave to an addiction he couldn’t control.  For all anyone cared, he was dead to the world – he’d never get out of that place.  And you could tell it just by looking on his face.  He would fight other inmates at the drop of a hat, over things that most everyone else thought was silly.  He made enemies of all the guards, who constantly found excuses to put him in solitary or to have him punished in other ways.  If anyone exemplified sin, it was this man.

One day a chaplain started coming to his cell.  The prisoner said he wanted nothing to do with him, told him to go away.  Sometimes, he even threatened the chaplain… but he kept listening.  And he listened because he found something in that chaplain that he hadn’t seen anywhere else in a long time: FORGIVENESS.  But he didn’t believe it.  He held in all his anger and his hatred for days, just listening to see if he would hear anything different. 

Eventually, the dam burst… he erupted in rage at the startled chaplain.  Shouting for nearly an hour, he told that chaplain every awful thing he had ever done, and then dared the chaplain to show him a God who would forgive all THAT.  The chaplain simply stood and gave him a hug… and the walls came down.  That man’s still in prison, but now he’s leading other people to the cross.  That man found the cross, and he found forgiveness – just try and tell HIM it doesn’t matter that Jesus died.

—

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  Why don’t you ask a young woman who was known in her community for her “indiscretions.”  She was so lonely, she didn’t know what to do but to find young men who would keep her company, if only for a while.  Most everyone who knew her suspected she was sleeping around, but no one could ever prove it.  So for years, she walked the streets with her head and eyes down, fearing to look in anyone’s eyes because she knew what she’d find there – either hatred and scorn, or lust and desire.  She was little more than a prostitute.

One day, she was on the way to meet one of her new “friends,” a nice young man in town who’d been married for only a couple of years.  She met him at his house while his wife had gone to visit some family.  But she was so busy looking down as she walked that she didn’t notice she was being followed.  She entered the house, and no sooner had she gone to the young man’s bedroom than she heard shuffling feet and voices inside the house.  She looked up just in time to see several pairs of hands grab her in the dark and start dragging her outside.

As they dragged her through the street, they tore off her clothes and beat her repeatedly.  She cried with fright as they reached alongside the road for large rocks… that could only mean one thing.  They dragged her to the edge of town, but instead of taking her to the usual place they dragged her into the midst of a little crowd of people that seemed to be gathered and listening to someone.  The rough hands threw her sobbing on the ground at the feet of the man to whom everyone seemed to be listening.  She buried her face in the dirt, ready for the stones to fly.

But what she heard, after the men with rough hands shouted their accusations, was not the voice of anger… but a calm and gentle voice.  And though she was afraid to look up for fear of the hatred she’d find, she lifted her head to look into the eyes of a man… and instead of hatred, instead of the lust and dirty longing that she often saw, she saw… love.

This woman would follow Jesus for years, and was probably one of the few women who were brave enough to stand at the foot of the cross, to take his body to the tomb.  She had gone to the cross, and she found real, unconditional love – just try and tell HER it doesn’t matter that Jesus died.

—

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  Just ask the family of the young girl I knew and ministered to, who was killed in an automobile accident.  Flung from the car while her boyfriend drove.  She would have been sixteen in only a few months, and she was such a responsible and intelligent young lady that I know she would have accomplished great things in the world.  But her life was taken away, and all that her family and her church and her friends could do was to mourn.

Until we began to think through the life of Jesus, and there we found “a man of sorrows, who is acquainted with grief.”  We found a man who had to take time by himself to grieve when he lost his cousin John.  We found a man who wept aloud over the loss of his close friend, even though he knew Lazarus would be raised from the dead.  We found a man who knew the pain of being rejected by the people in his hometown… they’d even tried to stone him.  He had no home, but slept out in the open like a vagabond.  He was misunderstood by his own best friends, asked to leave by several towns, constantly tempted to do things he knew wasn’t right.

And then he was crucified.  There he hung on the cross – God himself, in a human body, nailed to a tree to suffer and to die.  We were used to looking to the example of others who had suffered,, but for some reason we saw in this time more than ever that if anyone could sit with us, like Job’s friends, and mourn for the loss and pain we felt – it was JESUS, God himself.  That family had gone to the cross, and found a God who knows what it’s like to suffer – just try and tell THEM it doesn’t matter that Jesus died.

—-

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  Ask the people who have struggled with sin and pain all their lives, and in the cross have found hope that they can be made right again someday. 

Ask the people who have lost loved ones to hurricanes, earthquakes, fires, murders, diseases… and in the cross have found hope that because of Jesus’ blood the world will one day be purged and cleansed and there will be no more tears. 

Ask the people who are here sitting next to you in the pews, instead of laying on the sofa and watching TV this morning – because they’ve met a savior who has washed them clean to live new lives, who has promised them eternity.

Does it still matter that Jesus died?  You tell ME.

Why the Resurrection Matters MORE

1 Corinthians 15:12-26

“Do you remember playing the ‘my-dad’s-tougher-than-your-dad’ game?  Come on, we’ve all done it in some way – even if it wasn’t about our dad’s.  “My dad is bigger than your dad,” or “my dad can hit a softball farther than your dad,” or “my husband makes more money than yours,” or “my church has more members than yours.”  How about, “my country is bigger and better than yours.”  It’s a sad game.  But it’s a game we still play it in every area of life.

Believe it or not, church theologians play the game too.  Of all the doctrines in Christianity, of all the events that made a difference to the whole world, we have several that could take the trump.  And our various church groups are still calling out for their own to take the top spot.

To Catholics it’s the annunciation and birth of Christ.  To them, the fact that Jesus died is not so important as the fact that he lived – that he was here among us, that he suffered as one of us.  That’s why when you go to a Catholic church and you see a cross, what do you see on that cross?  Jesus hangs there in crucifix.  To Catholics, it’s more important to emphasize the fact that Jesus suffered as one of us than it is to emphasize that he died for us.

To most of us Protestants, if you asked around in our churches folks would probably tell you the cross is most important event.  When you see a cross in our church, it’s empty.  There’s no Jesus on that cross. What’s most important to us is that he died and was buried.  Because to us, in that death, he accomplished the work of salvation.  The atonement, the shed blood of Jesus – that’s surely the most important event of our faith.

But as often as it gets overlooked, I happen to think that the resurrection is the most important event and doctrine of all of them.  Paul has it right, I think (he usually does).  He says that there are a lot of things that might could come or go with our faith, but the resurrection MUST be true.  If not, we’ve only gotten half the story.  If not, we are “to be pitied of all people.”

What do I mean?  Let’s think about what we found – and DIDN’T find – at the cross.

—

We found forgiveness at the cross, that’s true.  But what good is a one-time pardon from sin?  So, we get forgiven for the things we’ve done here on earth… that’s nice.  Eternity is a LONG time, and our little lives are only a part of it.  We live, we die forgiven… I can see how it might be better to just pass on forgiveness and keep living it up while we have time!

But that’s not the end of the story.  Jesus died… but he also ROSE, so that we might rise too.  So suddenly that forgiveness that just lasts a few years is stretched out a LOT longer than just the number of our days here on earth.  The resurrection means we are forgiven – not just for the time being, but FOREVER.

On the cross we found forgiveness, but in the empty tomb we see just how long that forgiveness lasts.

—

We found salvation at the cross, it’s true.  And that’s nice for you and me… it’s like a “Get Out of Jail Free Card” that we just happened to find on the side of the road.  But you know, all on its own, that card is not all it’s cracked up to be.  Remember the movie, The Shawshank Redemption?  In that movie, a man who had been in prison for decades suddenly found himself out on the street, free at last! 

What did he do?  He tried to live a normal life, but he had no family or friends to go to, he had no skills to help him find meaningful work.  In short, this man found that he even though he had left prison, prison had never really left him.  He was free, but for what?  He could find no meaning in life, so this man – who was free at last, who’d gotten a “Get Out of Jail Free” card – ended up swinging from the rafters of his attic.

You and I are like that man in some ways.  The cross freed us from prison.  But what difference does that make if we have nowhere to go when we walk out of the prison gates?  That’s where the empty tomb comes in.  Remember the words Paul gave us, the ones that I use when we baptize someone?  “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

On the cross, we found an old way of life had ended.  But in the empty tomb, we found out a new way of life has begun!

—

We found meaning in Jesus’ death, it’s true.  We know all the theology – Jesus had to die.  Someone had to die to pay the penalty for all the bad things I’ve done!  And so Jesus was the sacrificial lamb, who died so that I wouldn’t have to die.  We’re all going to die, it’s true.  But we don’t all have to die for our sins.  That’s what Jesus did.

But that’s kind of a morbid end to the story, isn’t it?  Jesus dies, and that’s the all-important answer, the final word?  NO – because Jesus rose from the dead, we see that death might have been the answer to our sin… but that in that death, Jesus defeated DEATH ITSELF forever.  Suddenly, this thing that is the all-consuming end of our existence, this thing that has a hold on us from the minute we die… suddenly, that thing called DEATH doesn’t have its sting anymore.  It’s not the end.  There’s more after that!

On the cross we found that death had to be the answer.  But in the empty tomb we find that death is not the final word!

—

We found a great event at the cross, to be sure.  It was a nice story, made the Old Testament all neat and tidy!  But you know, by itself, the death of Jesus wasn’t much to “write home about.”  So, somebody died.  Didn’t you know there’s a 100% mortality rate among human beings these days?  Everyone dies.  That’s just part of life, right?  What difference does Jesus’ death by itself make to the guy down the street?

Jesus died, and that’s important.  But the important thing happened AFTER Jesus died, when he rose from the dead and passed his mission of reconciliation on to us.  That’s one big torch to carry!  “How can they know if they have not heard?” Paul asks, and that’s the crux of the mission we’ve been given.  Jesus didn’t just die – that’s nothing.  Everyone dies.  But not everyone raises from the dead again.  That’s different.  That’s something we have to tell!

On the cross we learned we were saved.  But in the empty tomb, we find out that we were saved for a REASON – so that others could be saved too.

—

I guess I’m playing it again – “My Dad’s bigger and better.”  And he is.  Our Father is bigger – more powerful, more loving and more purposeful – than to let the final word in his story be the death of some man on a cross.  YES, that cross was important!  YES that cross accomplished the redemption of humanity!  YES, that cross was the revelation of a God who knows what it means to suffer alongside us!

But without the empty tomb on that Easter Sunday morning, that death on the cross accomplished no more than all the sacrifices that had been offered to God throughout history.  What made the difference was not just the death – none of those lambs who had been sacrificed before had ever gotten up and walked again! 

When Jesus rose from the dead, he turned death backwards and suddenly we found a God who was stronger than our greatest enemy! 

When Jesus rose from the dead, our “Get Out of Jail Free” card suddenly got its expiration date canceled! 

When Jesus rose from the dead, he walked out of those grave cloths – just like we are called to walk out of our sinful ways!

When Jesus rose from the dead, he gave us a reason to tell the world that God had done something bigger and better than anyone had ever imagined!

When Jesus rose from the dead, we found out that God could do that wonderful thing inside of US, too!

—

Does the cross still make a difference?  Does the empty tomb still matter?

Then, people of God, let’s LIVE LIKE IT!

Introduction

Our last couple of sermons have built upon each other.  First, we learned that God loves us – loves YOU – infinitely more than we can imagine.  God created us in his image, made us unique and special, placed us where we are.  He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of our days.  God loves you – how can you not love yourself?

Next we saw that God’s love doesn’t stop at the good things about us.  God even loves the parts of us that are difficult to love.  And he loves us enough that he takes the bad parts of us – sins, weaknesses, failures and all – and uses those things to mold us and fashion us into a different kind of vessel: One that he can use in new and unimaginable ways.

So today’s message continues to build on those ideas.  If God loves you so deeply – even with all your faults – how can you not love yourself?  And if you are to love yourself as God loves you, how can you not care for yourself as God cares for you?

There are all kinds of cute images I could use to help you get this idea across, but the basic thing I want to say is this:  TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.  It’s not just a thoughtful suggestion.  It’s not just a good idea.  As we’ll see, it’s a scriptural mandate.

I probably don’t need to tell you WHY taking care of yourself is so important.  That’s common sense to most of us.  But here are three very good reasons:

First LIFE IS BETTER WHEN WE DO.

Second, GOD HAS GIVE US A RESOURCE, and we are to take care of it.

Third, GOD HAS WORK FOR US TO DO, and we must be ready to do it.

Life is Better

First, let’s talk about how taking care of ourselves can increase our enjoyment and satisfaction in life. 

Jesus tells us that he has come that we might have life, and might have it more abundantly.  He wasn’t talking about eternal life then – he meant life here and now.  Do we have abundant life?  Jesus took good care of himself – he rested often when he could, and took frequent time away to pray and be with God.  He didn’t have the junk food we have today, and he didn’t have much choice but to walk everywhere he went!

 But it’s the abundant life thing that gets me.  When we take care of ourselves, pace ourselves in life, we certainly enjoy it more.  Our lives are more abundant, more free.

 But this isn’t the only reason to take care of ourselves, and not the most important.

We Have Been Given Resources to Care For

 It’s kind of strange to think of our lives as resources.  We think of money, maybe, or of our talents.  But there are so many biblical reasons to look at life this way. 

 We’ve been told to number our days – to make good use of the time we have.

 We’ve been told that we are temples of the living God.  A temple is a place where God is worshiped, glorified, and put first.  A place where others can come to meet God face to face. 

 Our church building is like a temple.  The church itself is the people, but this building is definitely an asset we have to use.  So we care of it.  We just replaced two heating units that were due to stop working any time now.  We have someone clean the inside, replace light bulbs.  We paint when we need it, change things around to fit the need of what’s going on.

 And think about resources from a common sense point of view.

• A man has a car that is his livelihood – he’s going to take care of it!
• A computer that you need for work – you’re not going to let it get infested with viruses and crash the thing.
• Your house – when the roof leaks, we fix it.  When the siding starts coming down, we put up more.  When the paint is peeling, we scrape, prime and paint again.

 
So if all these things can be replaced, even if we were inclined to let them fall apart, how much more should we take care of ourselves – our body, spirit, mind and heart – that CAN’T be replaced?

 And it’s not just a matter of “if it isn’t broke…”

• It’s practical to take care of these things before they break down instead of waiting for them to fall apart.
  • We don’t wait for our car to start overheating before we change the oil and add water.
  • We don’t wait until our computer makes funny noises and refuses to start before we buy the virus checker.
  • We don’t wait for the entire floor to rot before we finally repair that hole in the roof.
• So why do we treat our bodies and souls this way?

 Once again, it comes down to how we love ourselves.  God loves us.  We know he loves us because he cares for us.  We love our children, or families, or friends.  We love them by caring for them.  Love means taking care.

 So, is it indicative of the love we have for ourselves when we don’t bother to take care of ourselves?!

 
We Have Work to Do – a Race to Run

Paul uses the image of a runner in a race.  This is an area I’m getting more comfortable with, since I’ve been running a good bit more lately.  Up until now, I played some sports in school and did some running.  But nothing serious – nothing like this.  And now that I’m 30, I can’t just go out and run long distances anymore without thinking ahead of time.  What am I going to eat this week to get ready?  What kind of clothes am I going to wear?  How should I schedule my activities this week so I can be ready?

I also have to think carefully when I’m running.  How am I breathing?  If I get out of a breathing rhythm, I’ll pay for it later… my body will begin to hurt and my lungs will burn.  What about my pace?  If I start out too fast, I’ll NEVER finish a long race.  I have to pace myself, make sure I’m running in a way that I can finish.

This is the kind of care we need to give to life.  God willing, most of us will live long and productive lives.  But we can’t just fizzle ourselves out by not taking care of ourselves.  If we stay plugged in, God can use us for eighty years, or for just a few.  Jesus knew he had something to accomplish.  And if he didn’t take care of himself, he might never have been able to do it.

A pastor or doctor, for instance.  There’s a LOT to be done, and we could spend all our waking and sleeping hours attending to that need.  But we’d kill ourselves.

Look at money resources.  There’s a LOT of need in the world, but if we gave away literally every penny, would that really help?  In today’s world, greater good can be done when we are good stewards.  Bill Gates has given billions of dollars to several worthy causes.  If he’d given up every penny he had when he was 30, he would never be where he is today.

Getting Down to Specifics

 So here’s the bottom line:  If you’re waiting for someone to take care of you, you’ll be the guy who shows up at the mechanic’s shop for an oil change after his engine’s already burned up.  God will watch out for you, will provide for your needs.  But that doesn’t mean you can run yourself into the ground in the meantime. 

 Self-care is an important part of life.  It’s not that we should spend all our lives focused on ourselves.  But I think that we cannot reach our full potential unless we do something to take care of ourselves.

 So let’s get to some specifics.  How do we need to take better care of ourselves?  Some of these ways are just common sense.  In fact, I bet I haven’t said and won’t say anything in this sermon that you didn’t already know.  But if you put the REASONS together with the WAYS, maybe God can stir us to make a change for the positive.

 Jesus says we should love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength – our emotions, our spirits, our brains, and our bodies.  Let’s look at the four basic areas of health and see what we can do.

BODY – This is probably the area we think of most.  Do you take good care of your body?

• Now some people go overboard with this – plastic surgery and all that.  I’m not talking about cosmetic.  A few wrinkles aren’t going to kill you.
• But there ARE some things that will kill you:
  • What are you eating?  Are you eating things that are good for you… at least some of the time?
  • Are you exercising?
  • Are you getting enough rest and giving your body time to heal itself?  SABBATH.
  • What kinds of habits do you need to stop?

 
SPIRIT – Our spirits are frail and fragile things, and our spirits spend most of our lives battling against our human nature.  There are so many ways we can boost our spirits.  But most of us, I’m afraid, allow our spirits to get into such awful shape that we can’t even think of the last time we did one of these things.  We have been entrusted with their care.  What kinds of things are we doing to care for our spirits?

• Bible study
• Frequent prayer – Speaking and…
• Listening – Silence and stillness
• Godly friendships and relationships
• “Mission” work – helping those in need, sharing our relationship with God to others.

 
MIND – This seems like such a silly thing, to take care of our minds.  But our minds are so susceptible to all kinds of things in our world that too often we find them full of things that don’t matter.  We may not always be able to control our minds, but we can GUARD them:

• What are you watching on TV and in movies?  What kind of books are you reading?  Are these things REALLY doing you any good?
• Do you allow yourself to dwell on things that aren’t healthy?  That aren’t important?

 
All these things are signs that you need to start guarding and exercising your mind.  Learn something new.  Try something different for a change.  Take a vacation and see if you can’t get a new perspective on things. 

 HEART – Finally, an area that we need to really think about seriously.  Our hearts – our emotions – are the last uncharted and difficult area of the human being.  Science has probed lots of these other areas, but the emotions are probably the most difficult for us to get a grip on.

 And they’re they part that has the most grip on us.  Our emotions can affect all the other parts of us. When you’re up and happy, you can FEEL it in your body.  When you’re down and having a bad day, it drags your mind and spirit in directions they wouldn’t normally go.

 And here’s the misconception that many people have:  Emotions are a bad thing.  And this simply isn’t true.  If any of you ever watched Star Trek, you may remember that the character Spock was supposedly of a race that had no emotions, and that was a result of the time the show was created – when emotions were sometimes seen as bad things.

 But emotions, in themselves, are NOT bad things.  Emotions are God-given parts of who we are, and we should embrace our emotions as gifts from God – both the positive ones AND the negative ones.

 There’s a popular concept among Christians that we should be happy all the time – we should never be worried, or angry, or sad or depressed, that we shouldn’t grieve.  This simply isn’t true.  I have not found a single idea in scripture that supports it, even though people will misread passages to make them say that.

 And this idea has been one of the most damaging in our Christian age. Because when a Christian says we shouldn’t have these emotions, the only thing we can do is to ignore them… and THAT causes serious problems.

 Grief, anger, worry, depression, frustration, jealousy… these are a part of our human condition.  And to pretend we shouldn’t have them is like pretending we don’t have an arm.  It cripples us, because we stop dealing with them and they take control of us.

 If the Bible models anything about emotions, it’s being honest and open with them – before other human beings and before God.  Look at the Psalms – an outpouring of every human emotion, both positive and negative.  And they’re poured out to other people and to God.  Job poured out his emotions to God, as did Moses (“I don’t want to go back to Egypt…”), Abraham (“Why haven’t I had a son yet?”), David (“My soul is downcast…”), Jesus (“Let this cup pass from me…”). 

 In other words:  Every biblical character that had a proper relationship to God expresses his or her joy, sorrow, grief, frustration, separation, and anger.  It’s a part of life, and no part of our life is invisible from God.

 Instead, Paul points out in Ephesians 4:26: “Be angry, but do not sin.  Do not let the sun go down on your anger.”

 
What does this mean?  It means BE ANGRY.  Let yourself experience the emotions.  But don’t let the emotions make you do something you shouldn’t (like beat someone up).  Deal with it, express it and get it out of your heart, so that the “sun doesn’t go down on it.”

 It’s so easy to preach and so hard to do.  But we HAVE to learn to be open with our feelings.  We have to learn to express them to God and to others.

 How can we deal with emotions?  First, try honesty.  Tell what you feel, don’t hide it.

 Second, seek help.  There is such a stigma around counseling and medications these days, but I believe that these are God-given helps to our human condition – the condition that gets more complex and more dangerous with every passing year.  500 years ago, they didn’t have Tylenol and Advil and other pain medications, but there weren’t as many needs for them.  Today’s world – with food additives and all kinds of new ways to hurt ourselves – is a place where pain is much more frequent.

 In the same way, our complex world is a place where emotions are much more difficult to unravel than they used to be…

 
Conclusion

 Finally, remember this:  No one is going to make you take care of yourself.  Don’t tell yourself you don’t have time.  You have to MAKE the time.

 What are you waiting for?  The abundant life Jesus promised is at stake.  God’s kingdom work is at stake.  Start taking care of yourself, and let’s become the people God has intended us to be.

Where is God? How could he let something like this happen? How could this young man, no matter how disturbed, bring himself to commit such a horrible act? How could God allow these young people – in the budding stage of life, their whole futures before them – how could God let this happen to them? And where is he now? Where are the justice and vindication? Where are the consolation and the joy?

It’s a question as old as the oldest book in the Hebrew Scriptures – Job. How fitting it seems in times like this that the oldest of writings about God are not songs of praise or accounts of his greatness… but questions about good, evil, justice and God’s seeming absence in the midst of suffering.

And if we learn anything from Job, it’s this: Now is not the time for answers, for trying to figure out eternal “why’s.” Even after watching those videos, after hearing of his troubled past, even after hearing psychological analyses… even then we will not be able to give a decent answer to that question. Now is not the time for answers. Now is the time for mourning and for reaching out.

Where was God last Monday? Most of us weren’t there, so we can’t say. But we’re starting to hear stories. Professors and students willing to lay down their lives for others. Unexplainable escapes and near-misses. The outpouring of compassion that touched so many lives at a crucial time.

Where is he now? He’s working, through his Spirit, to bring unity to a world that’s usually divided by class, color, religion, and yes… even team loyalty. He’s speaking through the voices of churches and Christians who, instead of calling for heads, are calling for FORGIVENESS – for Cho Seung-Hui and for the school administration and staff. After all, did we learn anything from the incident in an Amish school a year ago?

We can ask where God is, and where he might have been, and that’s appropriate. But what we cannot do is allow that question (or the answers) to let ourselves off the hook. No matter where we perceive God to have been last Monday, we know the task WE have been given: to comfort those in mourning, to offer prayers for those who have been hurt, to stand up for love instead of revenge, to offer forgiveness instead of lawsuits. These are not the jobs of a select few – they are the jobs of every believer, whether in the wake of a massacre or simply in our day-to-day lives.

Where is God? He’s right here where he’s supposed to be. Question is… where are we?

K-V Dispatch

March 14 2007 Edition

Hold on to your hats: Yet another startling new discovery threatens to rock the foundations of Christianity! How many times have we heard this in the last five years? From the questions posed by Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code and the scandalous Gospel of Judas, to the recent discovery of the James ossuary (which, incidentally, was proven a hoax), it seems there is no shortage of revelations these days that strike fear in the hearts of millions of Christians worldwide! The foundations of the Church are crumbling, and Christianity is cowering in the shadow of science and truth…

Or at least, that’s what someone wants you to think.

In 1980, a group of archaeologists discovered a tomb with several ossuaries, boxes containing the bones of the deceased. Names on those boxes include “Jesus, son of Joseph,” Mary, and even “Mariamene,” a name that was reportedly used to refer to Mary Magdalene. The discovery was picked up by Hollywood director James Cameron (of Titanic fame), who has made a “documentary” on the subject. The implications are serious, they claim: Jesus was no more than a normal human being, who was married to Mary Magdalene, and who had children. No cross and resurrection, no ascent into heaven.

It seems everyone’s expecting Christians to shudder in fright. The world watches for some kind of vicious reaction from the Church, like cornered animals who realize their time is up. Sadly, some of us have given it to them.

I could go on for several weeks of columns, talking about the problems in their research, the evidence that disputes their claims. But you’ll see all of that on TV. I think what’s more important is not the story itself, but why we react to it the way we do.

We (as Christians) should not be surprised by this kind of thing at all. The rest of the world is looking through lenses of “un-faith,” and they will always see what they want to see. And they’ll keep looking… and they’ll still be looking years, decades, centuries from now (if Jesus hasn’t returned), trying to find that final straw that will break the Church’s back. And I believe the Church will still be as strong then as it is now, if not stronger.

What does it say about our “faith” when we allow it to be threatened or shattered by scientific discoveries, no matter how well-grounded they may be? What does it say about our God when we allow him to be judged by the whims of scientists and atheists who will read the evidence in their own favor? Is our “faith” based scientific proof and archaeological evidence? Or is our faith based on belief, on the Truths that God has revealed to us?

If you’re looking for scientific proof of God, I’m sorry to inform you that I don’t think you’ll find it. God wants us to have a faith that’s based on him, not on proof. As long as we are here on earth, the struggle will continue – between those who want to prove God, and those who think he’s just baloney. And in the middle will be those of us who just know – not because it was proven to us, but because we choose to believe that it’s true.

Instead of cowering in the corner and lashing out, maybe we’re better off looking seriously at these things and letting them inform – and challenge – our own faith. It’s no sin to ask questions – just ask Job. Rather than allowing our faith to be defined by the latest sensational news story, let’s look first through the lenses of faith and see the truth we need to be reminded of: That no matter what may come our way, God is still there, and he still has the final word.

Sermon following a parent-child dedication service

We’ve talked a little about what it means to be an example for our children – for each other – as we grow and learn together. But there’s another direction that I try to take during these dedication services that we can’t ignore, and it’s this: That just as we are to be examples for children, so are they to be examples to us. Several times in the Gospels, Jesus says things to this effect: “Allow the children to come to me, because of people like them the Kingdom of Heaven is known.” “I tell you the truth, unless you become like this little child, you will never see the Kingdom of Heaven.”

I’ve talked about both of those passages in dedication sermons before, but this week as I was preparing I “stumbled” upon a new passage that made more sense than ever to me of this idea. And it’s a passage that’s so familiar to us that we are probably used to skipping over it. But it’s one that holds a great deal of information to us if we’ll take it at face value.

I want to read for you John 3:1-17. You’re used to hearing John 3:16 right at the end, so let’s say it together to get it out of the way: “For God so loved…”

Now you know what’s coming. So turn it off, and hear it in the context of what’s happening before it.

(Read John 3:1-17.)

What do you think of when you hear those words, “born again?” We think of babies, perhaps, of little children. But I think mostly we just hear “Christianized language” – words we hear used so often that we often forget to think about the meaning behind them. After all, people describe themselves as being “born again,” or “I’m a born-again Christian” as if it were some kind of category of Christian that’s separate from all the others.

If I asked you right now, “What does it mean to be born again?” some of you would probably say, “It’s simple! First, you recognize that you’re a sinner in need of forgiveness. Then you believe that Jesus Christ came to save you from your sins. Then you confess your sins to God and ask him to forgive you, ask Jesus to come into your heart, and… BOOM! You’re born again!”

We’ve got it down to a process, an outline. And if you ask more than one person, you’ll get a different version of the outline. But the basic idea is still there: “It’s simple! You just do BLANK.”

Now that’s nice and all, but Nicodemus comes and asks Jesus the same question, and gets a TOTALLY different response.

First you have to understand a little about Nicodemus. He is a Pharisee. That means he knows the Mosaic Law backwards and forwards, plus a whole lot more. He could probably quote to you, from memory in Hebrew, the better part of the first five books of our Bible. He is a member of the Sanhedrin, which means he is very respected among the Jewish people. You don’t get to a place like that unless you are VERY intelligent and VERY wise in the ways of the current religious establishment.

Jesus has just come into Jerusalem for the first time, and from the very beginning things are trouble. He comes to the temple, and gets so mad at what he sees there that he makes a whip out of some cord and drives all the merchants and money-traders out. He starts healing and preaching a new kind of message that no one has heard before.

Things are in such an uproar that Nicodemus feels compelled, for some reason, to come to Jesus. He comes at night – whether out of secrecy, or just because that’s the only time they could get together, we don’t know. John uses light-dark contrast very carefully, so John might simply be making a statement about Nicodemus’ spiritual state. But the fact is, he comes. He wants to hear more, wants to see what’s going on.

Now the Pharisees LOVED their outlines. If you went to one and asked, “What does it mean to be righteous?” his face would light up and he’d say, “You’ve come to the right place, my friend! What you do is this, and this, and this, and this…” And they’d go on a LONG time with that list. They loved outlines, because in some way that made righteousness attainable. At the end of that long list was the end – you are righteous at last.

So Nicodemus was hearing something new and different, and he wanted the outline. He wanted Jesus’ notes, so that Nicodemus could squeeze all this new information into his old way of thinking. “Let’s sit down and talk about this, come up with the outline,” he seems to say. “Then maybe we can all understand each other and get along” – in other words, “maybe we can figure out what you’re saying so we know how to fight it.” He comes to Jesus on his own terms, and he thinks that Jesus is going to give him all the answers at last!

But what Jesus gives Nicodemus is not an outline. He doesn’t even say, “Hey Nick, glad you came by. Let’s have some coffee and chat.” He just goes straight into it:

“Unless you are born again (or from above), you cannot see the Kingdom of God.”

And Nicodemus says, “Huh?! Say that again?” And from then on, what we read is so mysterious that most of the time WE want to skip over it. We want to get to the outline part – “God so loved the world” and all that. We can understand all that, but not this “water and spirit” thing. What’s going on here?

Jesus refuses to talk about being “born again” in outline form, and seems to make it sound more like a mystery. And there’s a reason for that – what happens when we are born again is so mysterious that even we don’t understand it.

Any of you who’ve been in a delivery room know what I’m talking about. When Tanya and I had Abigail, we went to parenting classes. We saw all the charts, got the low-down on what happens at birth. We saw pictures and drawings and videos… we were told the step-by-step of what happens from conception to birth. Every power of science can make an outline out of birth, so that you know: “First this happens, then this, then this…”

But you’ve never really experienced birth until you’ve stood there (or sat there, or passed out there) and seen it. Then suddenly all that scientific medical language is useless. You can’t explain what a mystery it is to see a new life brought into the world, to hear those little lungs fill for the first time and let loose in a cry. To see a naked, fragile little body struggle to come to terms with being in a new place. To hold that baby in your arms and watch it sleep more peacefully than you or I can manage any more.

It’s a mystery no outline can explain. And this, Jesus says, is what being re-born is all about.

The key word, to me, to understanding this passage is the word, “See.” Unless you are born again, you cannot SEE the kingdom of God. I think that the beginning of being born again – truly born into God’s kingdom – is not a prayer, but a change in perspective, a different way of seeing. That change of seeing turns into a change of spirit, which turns into a change of action. But it all starts with “seeing.”

Have you ever looked into a mirror in a room you knew so well – maybe your bedroom at home – and suddenly seen a different room? You look at what is familiar, and suddenly you see it in a new and different way? That’s what it’s like to be reborn.

But there’s a much more appropriate example for us to think about today. Any of you who’ve had little ones lately can attest to how HARD it is to baby-proof a house. Every stage makes it harder and harder. It was nice when they laid down on the floor and couldn’t even roll over! Then they crawl, then they walk, then they start opening doors and cabinets, then they start asking questions and sneaking around where they know they’re not supposed to be!

You can read checklists in books and on the internet about baby-proofing your home. But once you’ve finished the checklist, there’s one last step. All of us know the best way to do make sure you’ve done it right…

Yep. Get on the floor and look around. And you don’t just lay there – you look through their eyes. What’s eye-catching? That plug without a cover, that power cord dangling there. That cabinet door with shiny bottles of chemicals inside. That bottle of medicine they can just barely reach. It’s a change in perspective – we have to look through their eyes.

And if you lay there long enough, or if you get down on your hands and knees in other places (where most of us won’t for embarrassment), you start realizing other things.

If you got down on your belly in a crowd – even a small crowd – all you can see is a forest of legs and smelly feet. That’s got to be frightening! And when you look up and see some unfamiliar giant reaching down to scoop you up… it’s enough to scare you to death!

You start to see things differently too. Try laying down on your belly in the yard sometime, or in the flower garden. Things look wonderfully different from a different angle. Try laying down in your home somewhere you’re not used to lying down, and see how different it looks. Lay down on your back and look up at the stars, so that you can see everything from horizon to horizon. Lay down in here and look under the pews and discover a whole new world!

When we get down like that, we start to see things through a child’s eyes. We begin to understand their stranger anxiety a little better when we see that big giant stranger reaching down for us. We understand, once we see the forest of legs, how comforting it might be to hide behind the tree of mommy or daddy. We see the wonder and beauty they must feel when they look at flowers or grass or leaves. It’s a whole new world for us to discover!

THIS, Jesus says, is the mysterious way we are born again. It’s not an outline. Sure, we can say, “these things happen when you’re born again.” But that’s not the true experience. As Jesus describes the wind moving through the trees, we can give all the scientific gobbledygook we want – the change in air pressure causes a movement of air from this place to that, heat rising and cool air rushing in to take its place and all that…

But that’s not what you’re thinking when you sit on your front porch on a summer evening and feel the breeze.

Just so, we can talk about salvation and about John 3:16 and how it explains the Gospel so compactly and directly. But JOHN 3:16 IS NOT THE GOSPEL. It’s only an outline. Notice Jesus doesn’t launch into that first – it only comes at the tail end of the rest of this mysterious talk. John 3:16 may describe the Gospel, but the REAL Good News has to be experienced mysteriously – like laying on the floor, like looking in a mirror, like feeling the breeze.

We have to be born of water, Jesus says. We can talk all day about what it means to be baptized theologically, about the significance of this and that. But at the end of the day, if you remember your baptism, I bet you can’t adequately describe to me what happened.

We have to be born of the Spirit. Once again, we can talk all the theology we want about how God works in our lives – how he transforms us, how he speaks to us, how he makes his presence known. But all that language falls away when we suddenly feel his peaceful presence in a difficult time, when we suddenly realize we’ve done something wrong, when we experience the holiness of God in a cathedral or in the beauty of nature.

Only then, once we’ve experienced being born again, only THEN can we begin to look at the outline again and say, “Oh, THAT’S what Jesus means when he says this…” Suddenly, we realize the wonderful Gospel we’d shoved into an outline and a salvation tract, is bigger and more mysterious than we’d ever thought!

The sad part is, most of us need to be born again all the time. We need to get back on our knees (take that coincidence for what you will), and see the world from that different perspective again. How easily we lose our view of wonder and fear!

But the good news is – we can be reborn time and again… in fact, we HAVE to. And we’re never too old to be born again.

So how about it? Have you been born again? Do you need to be re-born? It’s never too late, and this is the perfect time. May God give us grace and courage to put aside our old eyes, and to see the world anew through the eyes of a child!

A Sermon for Lent 1 (C)

February 25, 2007

A brief exercise to prepare for reading: “Write down three things you hate about yourself, and three things you love about yourself.”

Read Psalm 139

We are in the season of Lent. It seems like it was only a week or so ago, when we were celebrating the New Year and the beginning of Epiphany season by baptizing three girls who have made a decision to follow Christ in their lives. Lent always sneaks up on me.

Maybe it’s because Lent can be such a dark season. For centuries, Christians have recognized that it’s not enough just to celebrate a certain event in the year – Christmas, or Easter for example. They have recognized, and still recognize, that we must be prepared to celebrate those events. Just as we saw at Advent (or at least, I hope you saw), the way we prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ can make all the difference in that Christmas Day. If we anticipate Christmas, think about the specialness of that birth, look forward to it, even ache for it as children do sometimes… then we can truly appreciate and enjoy the day that is Christmas – the wonderful birth of our Savior.

But Lent is another matter. Like Advent, it is a preparation. It is a preparation for a holy event – Easter, the resurrection of Jesus. But we all know what resurrection means: It means that death must come first. We can talk about our own resurrection from the dead, our entry into eternal life with God… but most of the time we’re struck, if only silently, by the fact that we must die first in order to get there.

And that’s why Lent is hard for us to observe. If we are preparing to celebrate in Advent, Lent almost seems like preparation for mourning. If we feel the joy of new life at Advent, then at Lent we feel the weight of our own death approaching. That’s why we start Lent with the Service of the Ashes that we celebrated Wednesday night – a reminder of what Lent’s all about.

For as long as Lent has been practiced, it has meant (for many Christians) a time of looking more closely at ourselves – a time to acknowledge our sinfulness and to try to repent. Some people took pilgrimages or retreats during Lent, trying to follow the footsteps of Jesus or some other Saint, hoping the “holiness” might rub off. Others have taken on vows of various kinds: not eating meat, not having desserts, not drinking. In these ways, we hope that in our desire for the things given up, we can find a new desire for God, and to learn – if only in a small way – some of the suffering that Jesus endured on our behalf.

But the uncomfortable part of all that is not the outward rituals. We can handle taking a few days off from television, or not having chocolate. The really hard thing is to look at ourselves, to see ourselves as we truly are. Because, truth be told, most of us don’t like what we see there. We’d rather not look there – not look back at all the failures we feel we’ve made. We’d rather not remember our weaknesses that often get us into trouble.

We’d just rather not look too closely in the mirror, for fear of… what? Despair? Seeing that we haven’t changed much? I’m not sure. It’s different for each of us. But the fact is, most of us don’t like to look at ourselves too closely.

God Loves Human Beings

And this is where scripture steps in and gives us a somewhat different message. It’s true that when we look through the scriptures, we see how sinful we are. We see where God is warning us against unfaithfulness, urging us to live lives of discipline and compassion.

But the overwhelming message of the Bible is LOVE – God’s love for these strange creatures he’s created.

In the beginning, God made all the things we see around us – the deep blue oceans and the sandy beaches; the kind of starry sky you can only see on a cold clear night; the moon, soft and mysterious; brilliant red and orange sunsets; peaceful and quiet sunrises; snow-covered meadows; wildflowers; horses, whales, giraffes, birds.

All the beautiful things we enjoy on the earth, God made before human beings were created. There were peaceful cool evenings before there was ever a person to enjoy them. There were majestic mountains before there was ever a person to climb them. All these beautiful things God made, and said “IT IS GOOD.” But it wasn’t good enough.

Creation was not complete until God had made a man and a woman. He made them in his image, man and woman together in relationship. He made them to care for his world, to love his creatures, to love each other and to make more human beings to do the same. He made them to love and enjoy God himself – to enjoy a relationship with God unlike any other.

Creation was not complete without human beings. We were made for this universe, and the universe for us, in a way. That’s LOVE. God loves us as human beings.

The whole story of the Bible is the story of human beings trying to figure out how best to relate to a God who REALLY loves – who loves us not in a way that just allows us to do whatever we want to do, that leaves us alone. God loves us in a way that desires for us to change – to change so that we can love each other, so that we can love God more perfectly. To change in a way that will set us on a path for eternity.

The Bible is a story of how God loves us enough to make ways for that to happen. Of how God would bring his plan of redemption to completion by coming down himself, by living as one of us, by becoming one of us for a while. He suffered as one of us, learned what it was to be one of us. Then he died on our behalf, so that we would not have to die.

All of this for human beings! It’s no wonder the writer of Psalm 8 would ask:

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?

You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.

You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet:

all flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field,

the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.

O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

(NIV)

The Bible is a story of love – a God who made these creatures, made them in his image in some mysterious way, and loves them completely enough to give them freedom to make our own decisions.

God Loves ME and YOU

But the message of love doesn’t end there, and if we let it we’ll miss the most important point:

God loves YOU. Not “all of you.” You, right there. God made you. GOD LOVES ME.

When we can truly see ourselves as we are, brokenness, sinfulness, failures, weaknesses, illnesses, prejudices, hate, anger… when we truly see ourselves this way, we CAN fall prey to despair, to hopelessness.

But the balance, for the Christian, for the one who knows God, is the flip side of this coin: GOD LOVES US ANYWAY. God loves you and I more than we can comprehend. For us, it is this central truth that keeps us anchored.

The psalmist uses beautiful language to describe God’s love and craft. He uses the illustration of a weaver. In ancient times, a weaver who made clothing and other fabric items had to do all th work themselves. They had to gather the wool – there was no Hancock Fabrics to get the materials or pattern! They made the wool into string, then planned their work carefully – there were no patterns, or sewing machines. You had to do it right the first time. Then finally, when everything was ready, the final product planned out – then the weaver could begin to knit.

Now, I don’t consider myself an artist. I dabble in both music and painting. But whatever kind of artwork I’m doing, it takes a long time to get ready. Tanya will tell you that when I’m doing a painting, I can be planning and sketching for a month before I ever put brush to the paper. I draw vague ideas, try out different arrangements, experiment with colors. It usually takes more than a week of evenings for me just to get the sketch done that I will eventually color in.

And then, once I start, I still work carefully, practicing my brush stroke on another piece of paper to get it just right.

Now I have this painting on the wall in my office, that I painted of the church more than a year ago. I love this painting. When I see it, I don’t just see the pretty colors and the arrangement – I think of the sketching I did, the experiments with colors, the places I had to fix when I went overboard with the paints! I think of the hours I spent getting ready, and the new ideas I had even while I was painting.

I’ve done a few paintings like this, and I love them all. I don’t say, “I like this one more than this one,” because to me, even if they’re pretty low-grade work compared to professional works – they’re all different, unique and special. Because I MADE THEM.

If you look closely at my paintings, or listen closely to my songs, you can learn about me. I put myself into those things that I create – lovingly and carefully. So that even though I didn’t paint a picture of myself here – my fingerprints are all over it!

In this same way, God made you and me. God has made you, and you are fearfully and wonderfully made! There’s not some heavenly mass-production plant with an assembly line that cranks out the same person over and over. Each one of us – like that weaver’s cloth, like the painting or the song – is unique, one-of-a-kind. We are planned with careful and loving thought, every attention give to our personality, our circumstances… right down to the hairs on our head.

Loving Ourselves and Loving Others

So as we talk about identity this Lenten season, about what it means to be you and me, we must start with this fundamental fact: God loves us, JUST AS WE ARE. He has made us, has stamped us with his image, and loves us as only a Father, only an artist can.

Why dwell on this? Because I think it is a problem that SO MANY of us struggle with. How easy was it to write down the things you dislike about yourself? How hard was it to write down the stuff you love?

At some point, I think we all struggle with our own self-image, our self-esteem. And I think we come back to it over and over again. And we need to hear this message:

God loves you more than you can imagine. How can you not love yourself?

We try so hard to gain our identity through other things – the place we work. The positions we have at work or in church. The places we’ve been, the things we accomplish. We look at our successes and failures, and then we look at someone else’s – and we compare. We compare two things (ourselves and someone else) that were never meant to be compared.

We’re like apples and oranges, you and I. God has made us unique, each and every one, and he loves us deeply. And this HAS TO BE the foundation of our identity. Otherwise, we’re building a house on sinking sand. We can place our identity on our jobs – we won’t have them one day. We can’t place our identity on money, because all the money in the world will, one day, be useless to us. We can’t place our identity in our successes or failures, because one day they will all be forgotten. We can’t place our identity on other people around us, because you weren’t made to be ME, but to be YOU.

No, God’s love is the only thing worth placing our identity on, because it will NEVER CHANGE.

And if you’ve ever wanted to change the way you are, if you’ve ever been fed up with your own faults and failings, the first step is NOT hatred. As an addict who has been in a recovery group, or a Christian who has been significantly changed. Most often, the path to real change comes NOT through hating ourselves, but through LOVING ourselves.

This truth has other important consequences as well, because when we see how much God loves us, we begin to see how much God loves everyone. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done, and we can’t judge that. It doesn’t matter what color their skin is, what language they speak. God loves that person you despise just as much as he loves you. When we see others in this way, I think it changes how we act toward them.

If God loves him or her just as much as God loves me, how can I not love them too?

Let this truth sink in. You are important and valuable because God created you, and God loves you. Stop allowing other people, stop allowing your past – terrible though it may be – stop allowing these other things to give you your identity. Let GOD give you an identity, and I think we’ll start to see ourselves and other people in a different way.

Moving Forward

In this season of Lent, I’ve committed myself to looking at ME more closely, failings and all. And I’m committing myself to start seeing myself through God’s eyes and not my own. Lent is a time when people make commitments, when we allow God to draw us closer to him. What kind of commitment will you make this Lent?

And one of the best ways we can learn about God and his love for us, is to look at ME more closely. What does it mean that God has made me in his image? How am I unique? How am I the same as others? What things does God desire to change in me – not because he hates me or wants to punish me, but because he loves me and wants me to be more like him?

I’m going to give you some tools this Lent to begin looking at yourself, if you’d like to make use of them. First, this week I’m giving you a copy of a personality test – a little test to help you discover more things about yourself, and why you do things the way you do. Take this little sheet home and fill it out. It’s very basic, just front and back. Next week, I’ll have a sheet that will help you figure out what all these letters mean, and how they can help you learn more about yourself.

And the next few weeks, we’ll continue the journey inward. In the coming weeks, we’ll look at:

Who Am I?

• Part 1: Fearfully, wonderfully and individually made
  • Look at what makes us distinct – personality traits
• Part 2: Broken, but loved anyway! (Jeremiah’s potter, Romans 5:8)
• Part 3: Worth taking care of
  • Get personal and open about health issues – mental, emotional, physical, spiritual
• Part 4: Made to live in community and communion
  • Theology of community… what it means to live as self in trinity: God, self, others.
• Part 5: Gifted for service

I read an interesting story in a magazine a few years back about a dog that belonged to a certain family in the Midwest. When this poor little puppy had been born, his mother was very sick and died just after delivering her litter – and this poor puppy was the only one that survived. The family knew that the puppy had little chance to survive without a mother, so they turned to books and local veterinarians for advice on how to care for it. Despite their best efforts, the puppy refused to eat from a bottle, and it seemed he might not make it.

Help came from an unexpected place. The family who cared for the puppy also had a cat, and by a strange coincidence this cat had a litter of kittens just a day or two after the puppy was born. This mother cat, whether by maternal instinct or simply by confusion, took the puppy in as one of her own. While she could not feed the puppy, she acted as a mother to it and treated it just like one of her other kittens. The puppy, now sensing a mother’s love, began to eat and received the nutrients it needed to live and grow.

The writer of the story wanted to show just how powerful this “adoption” had been. While the puppy had learned some instinctually “doggy” habits like scratching himself with his hind leg, in many ways he seemed to believe he was a cat. He cleaned himself carefully like a cat, preferred cat food to dog chow, scratched on furniture, and loved to sit in the sun of a low window sill. In short, the puppy acted just like the other kittens, his “adopted” brothers and sisters.

While today I doubt the accuracy of all the details of this story, I recognize a kernel of truth in how the puppy perceived himself. Having been the owner of a dachshund for a few years, I learned to recognize what some people call the “small dog complex.” Experts say that small dogs, because they have little or no sense of themselves, tend to act as though they are as large as any dog or person they come into contact with. Our little Lizzy, like most dachshunds, was fiercely protective in spite of her size. On seeing a stranger or another dog, she would rush at them full speed, barking and baring her teeth… until she got close enough to realize just how big that thing was. Then, realizing her mistake, she would usually roll over on her back and whimper. If Lizzy had ever really come to terms with her identity, it’s likely she never would have left the house!

So why has my column suddenly turned into Animal Planet? While the magazine story certainly had some interesting parallels to our own adoption as children of God, I was more intrigued by what it says about our identity. That puppy acted like a cat because his only models for behavior were other cats. Lizzy acted like a big dog because she didn’t have a real understanding of her own size. How we act, it seems, is greatly influenced by how we see ourselves.

Sometimes we – as Christians, and as a church – decide to act less on who we really are, and more on how we see others acting around us. As Christians, it’s an easy trap to fall into. We know with our heads that we have been changed by God, but when we look more closely at others around us rather than our true identity, we fall back into old habits of sin and helplessness. We know with our heads that God has called each us to serve and follow Christ, but when we look around and see how others refuse to serve, we fall back and think, “maybe God isn’t calling me to do that after all…” We can only move forward in our walk when we have a proper understanding of our true identity.

As a church we fall prey to this failure of identity as well. We may not say it out loud but it’s the way we think: “We can’t accomplish much, we’re only a small church.” “We don’t need to do that kind of stuff, that’s for big churches.” Sometimes, we talk ourselves into being so small and useless that we feel God has put our church family here for no other reason than to gather and sing songs on Sunday morning. Is that really all we are about?

And are we really a “small church?” Don’t look at other churches for the answer, look at our church: We have a vital and healthy congregation, wide diversity, strong ministry programs, and a rich heritage of music, missions and education. There’s more potential for God’s Kingdom-work here than we realize. Are we really a “small church?” Does size really matter?

Perception is everything. Who do you think you are?

It seems there’s no shortage of folks who want to run for President in 2008. Just in the past two weeks, several have declared they are “in the race,” or that they’re looking into the possibility – which means, of course, that they will be “in the race” soon enough. Why so early? Elections aren’t until next November. We shouldn’t be paying attention until at least this time next year.

Or should we?

I think now is the time to start looking seriously at presidential candidates, because now is the time we’re likely to see who they really are. As the race gets tighter, the candidates will give focus-group speeches rather than talking to the everyday you-and-me. Instead of talking abut their passions and motivations, next year they’ll be telling us what they think we want to hear.

So where does the Christian fit into all of this? We’ve seen more in the past few years that, for better or worse, Christian Americans have influenced elections and policies. But before we jump up and down in victory, we should take a moment to reflect on what it means for us, as the Church, to have so much influence in our government.

Jesus opened up the age-old matter of church-vs.-state when the Pharisees came to him in Jerusalem with a loaded question: “Is it right for us to pay taxes to Rome?” Jesus knew their intentions, and he gave the perfect answer: “Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and give to God the things that are God’s.”

Jesus wasn’t just making a clever turn of phrase, and he wasn’t just trying to outfox the Pharisees. He was making a statement to us about our relationship to our government and society.

As members of a democracy, citizens of our great nation, each of us is responsible to have a voice in what goes on in our communities and our nation. We are responsible for the choices we make – or fail to make. If we elect a leader, then you and I are somehow implicit in the successes and failures of that leader. If we vote for a policy change, then you and I share the consequences that come from that change.

How do we, as Christians, make decisions? How do our decisions impact our nation and world? These are questions each of us can only answer for ourselves. But the fact remains, we have been given a mandate – both by our country and by our God – to take responsibility and action. Help the oppressed, feed the hungry, care for the poor… these are the things God consistently tells us we should do, both as individuals and as a nation.

Sure, it’s another 19 months until we choose our next president. But let’s take our God-given blessings and duties seriously, and begin even now to choose and to pray for our future leaders.

Next Monday, most of us will celebrate a day that we probably take for granted most years. The observance of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday was established as a federal holiday in 1986, 18 years after his untimely death on the balcony of a Memphis hotel. Sadly, to most of us it has become simply a day off from work, school, or whatever we do on a normal basis; certainly not a day to celebrate the life of a man who made a profound impact on his century.

King was a controversial figure during his own lifetime, and still remains a controversy today. Like many historical figures who are no longer able to defend themselves, King today finds his legacy threatened. He has posthumously been called a Communist and, ironically enough, both a Republican and a Democrat. He was either in league with the government or secretly trying to overthrow it. Some allege he cheated on his wife. He has been accused of plagiarism.

But no matter your opinion of King’s political and private activities, his was a life to celebrate – not just for the racial message he preached, but for the spiritual lessons he taught us. Two such lessons come immediately to my mind.

First, as a pastor, King was able to help Christians of all races see that God does not look on us as black, white, Hispanic or Asian. When God looks at us, he does not see our accomplishments or our failures. He sees us as beloved creations made in his image, as children who need his love and care. And if that is how God sees others, that is how we should see others as well.

Second, King chose a surprising way to fight the inequality faced by black Americans of his day – a way that endures as an example of Christ-like resistance. Rather than join in the violent attacks that others had launched against an unfair system, King chose to lead his followers to resist by non-violent means: sit-ins, marches, protests and boycotts.

King did this because he took to heart a lesson Jesus has tried to impress on us time and time again: When we use violence to combat violence, the only result is more pain and death. While war is sometimes necessary (and how thankful we are for those who fight for us), Jesus showed us that in the end, love and forgiveness are the only ways to break the cycle of sin and hatred.

Have we learned these lessons ourselves? They are not sideline issues. I am constantly confronted with both of these decisions on an almost daily basis. Will I strike back when I am attacked, continuing the cycle of violence and sin that has consumed the human race for millennia? Will I look at and treat others according to the things they appear to be – black or white, rich or poor, success or failure, Christian or other? Or will I see and treat people as the precious children of God, whom God has given to my care? No matter what I may think, I really am my brother’s keeper.

Let’s take a moment this MLK Day to celebrate the work of a man who gave his life – figuratively and literally – to fight the unjust and unequal treatment of all God’s children. And let us, like him, learn the lessons of Christ and allow King’s spiritual legacy to live on through us.

Anyway, I’ll at least try to get my articles up here from time to time. If I get more, I’ll do more. If not… well, you get the point.

Article one:

Making God

I have a candid confession to make: I have never enjoyed watching American Idol. This is true even though my wife and I lived in Birmingham – home to Reuben Studdard, Bo Bice and Taylor Hicks – during the early height of the Idol era. I know this is shocking, and it places us in the small percentage of Americans who don’t spend those hours in front of the TV each week.

It’s not that we’re against it for any particular reason – we just have better things to do, like play with our young daughters (who are infinitely more entertaining). And it’s not that I have some hangup on the idea of an “American Idol.” Fact is, whether or not we have a television show to tell us who our cultural idol is, we’ll find one anyway – even though those idols rarely turn out to be worthy of our “worship.”

A few years ago, listening to a sermon on idolatry, I experienced one of those rare moments in which I actually remember something I heard in a sermon. I, like most of my fellow audience members, had been used to thinking of idolatry as some ancient sin that only involved wooden carvings or ancient statues in pagan temples. Or maybe we were used to hearing it used in connection with Christian symbols that have taken on a life of their own – the cross, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. However we define it, idolatry is a serious sin… but none of us modern folks really do it.

That’s what I thought, until I was challenged with this simple but frighteningly clear definition of idolatry: “God created us in his image, and we sometimes return the favor.” It reminded me that idolatry is not limited just to the worship of things that are blatantly not-God, but extends to the worship of our own limited views of God as well. Whether it’s a statue or an ideology, idolatry is finding a god to worship that’s not really worth worshiping.

How often do we try to re-make God in our own image? I find myself doing it all the time, and I imagine it’s a pretty common practice for most of us. We imagine Jesus as a white (or black) handsome, middle-class kind of person who hung around mostly folks just like us. He was calm and serene, never angry, never laughing. We envision God to be a Republican or a Democrat, urging us to vote along political lines. We make God an American, a pro-choicer or pro-lifer, a Baptist or a Methodist. These labels conveniently place God on “our side,” and allow us the freedom to withhold love (or “fellowship,” or help) from those who are not exactly like us.

More dangerously, I think, when we do these things we run the risk of forgetting that, while you and I must usually be “either-or,” God can be “both-and.” We hold to our little re-fashioned gods despite the fact that all of scripture points to a God who is complex: showing love and compassion while threatening judgment; showing favor for one people while bestowing blessings to all; bringing peace while bringing division.

And so we commit that ancient sin over and over again – not when we bow down to a little wooden statue, but when we bow down to our own tiny and limited view of God at the exclusion of the many other things God is. When we think we’ve got God figured out and have him placed firmly “on our side,” we don’t need a wooden idol – we’ve built one in our minds and hearts.

As a New Year resolution, let’s commit ourselves to rediscovering the true God in the days ahead. When we do, we’ll be reintroduced to a God who, while warm and familiar, is also mysterious and holy – who is infinitely more terrible and yet compassionate, more peaceful and yet dividing, more dreadful and yet more wonderful than we ever imagined. That’s a God worth worshiping!

Following the Signs

Sermon: Epiphany 2 (C)

January 14, 2007

John 2:1-11

 The lectionary this week takes us headlong into the season of Epiphany.  Epiphany begins with the celebration of the coming of the Wise Men, but in the church year, Epiphany celebrates the life and ministry of Jesus. 

 We’re used to looking at the bookends of Jesus’ ministry: We’ve celebrated his birth, at lent and Easter we’ll lament his death and celebrate his resurrection.  But here, in Epiphany, we can settle down and look squarely at this man Jesus and what he did in between those bookends… what is, to me, one of the most important things about Jesus coming at all – the fact that he was HERE.

 The Gospels agree on the first act of Jesus’ public ministry.  Although the accounts differ, the writers agree that Jesus’ first public act was his baptism.  We celebrated that last week on Baptism of the Lord Sunday, and celebrated in an appropriate way, by baptizing three young ladies into our church.

 After Jesus’ baptism, however, the Gospel accounts are jumbled.  Jesus goes on to do a lot of different things.  But in John, where the lectionary takes us this year, we see that Jesus ministry is organized around a series of “signs.”

 Now we’re used to signs, aren’t we?  We see signs all over the place, every day.  Signs on the road tell us what’s coming up – a curve in the road, a highway splitting off, a railroad crossing, a traffic light.  Signs in towns and cities tell us what’s inside – a gas station or a library.  We have a sign outside that tells what this building is used for.

 In fact, there are so many signs in our world that we sometimes miss them.  It’s not that we’re ignoring them on purpose… they’ve just become commonplace, and we forget to pay attention.  Like the speed limit signs I told you about a few months back.  They’d become so ordinary that I forgot to pay close attention to them – and there were consequences.

 I had several good passages to choose from this morning, but the one I chose is the passage from John’s Gospel about Jesus turning the water into wine.  It’s not the specialness of this passage that drew me to it, but the ordinariness of it – the fact that there’s so much commonplace about it.

John makes a big deal out of this miracle.  You’d think it was David Copperfield making the Statue of Liberty disappear or something so significant as that.  John uses the word “sign” here, a phrase he uses very carefully.  Other signs include:

• Healing a boy who was about to die
• Feeding five thousand people
• Raising Lazarus from the dead

 So how does this one fit in?  This miracle, in comparison with the others, is surprisingly ordinary.

 First, it is an ordinary event, a wedding banquet.  Weddings, in the ancient world and in Jewish culture, were a big deal.  Jewish weddings are still events that last several days, and are full of traditions and rituals that are central to Jewish society.  When you got an invitation to a wedding, it was almost an insult to turn it down.  And it was almost FOOLISH to turn it down: When you went to a wedding, it was something like going to an all-inclusive resort or spa for a few days.  The host of the party was required to find a place for everyone to stay, made sure everyone was fed for the duration of the event.  Sometimes, the host even provided clothing for the guests to wear during the wedding.  It was a BIG deal, and the reputation of the host and his family rode on how well the guests were taken care of. 

 That’s why it was such a big deal that the wine ran out.  When you had all these guests that you were supposed to take care of, when you fell down on the job, it was almost an insult to THEM.  The host’s job was to make sure everyone had EVERYTHING they wanted, and if the host failed, it would reflect on his family’s reputation for weeks, years… even generations.  And when something ran out, you couldn’t just run down to the supermarket or the ABC store to get some more. 

 Commentators have deduced that because Mary knew about the wine running out, and because she was so concerned about it, that she and Jesus might have been related to the host in some way.  Her concern wasn’t that people have more to drink so they could get drunk.  Wine was to the ancient culture like sweet tea is to modern Southern culture – you just HAVE to have it.  Her concern was not that people are having a good time and getting drunk – her concern was for the reputation of the host and his family.

 But the point is, it was an ordinary event.  Jesus doesn’t come here to do a miracle.  This is not a speaking engagement for him.  For Jesus, this is an everyday event – a time to sit back, chat with friends, laugh with family, have some good food and drink together.  It was a normal, everyday event.

 Second, it was simply and quietly done.  It’s almost done “under the table,” in fact.  There is no dramatic flourish, no dramatic pulling the veil away to uncover something.  Jesus doesn’t stand up and give everyone the best wine, “on the house.”  There isn’t a big deal made at the time, and in fact it seems that hardly anyone knows about it.  The steward and host know something has happened, but don’t know who has done it or how.  Only Jesus, the disciples, the servants and Mary know what has happened.  And yet John records it as a significant “sign.”

 Finally, it was ordinary in that, like the rest of normal life, it was unplanned.  Mary comes to Jesus with the problem, and he says something like, “That’s none of my business.  It’s not time yet.”

 It’s not that Jesus’ time came between the time he said this and the time he did the miracle.  He didn’t say, “My hour has not yet come…” and then, BEEP BEEP, his watch goes off and he says, “Oh!  Now it’s here!”  Jesus didn’t come here to do a miracle.  He didn’t expect to do anything special at all.

 In short, this was an ordinary event that suddenly became extraordinary… but there was no huge deal made out of it.  This first sign came and went as calmly as the steward tasting the new wine and shrugging his shoulders.  But obviously, since it’s recorded here, this “sign” had significance to someone.

 Which leads us to look more closely, perhaps, at the meaning of a sign.  Because I believe that “signs” are not just something that happened a few times in John’s Gospel.  I think God places signs in our lives today.  In fact, I think there are lots of them… so many that we may tend to miss them from time to time.  You may have written down one of those signs just a few minutes ago, and as we talk about signs I want you to think of that sign you wrote down, and the other ones in your life.

 First, a sign is a neat thing, but it’s not the most important thing.

 But signs do serve, especially in pictures, to encapsulate an event for us.  If you go to a National Park, you’ll see a beautifully carved sign at the entrance.  And these signs have become so popular as tourist attractions in themselves that the Park Service has put parking lots by the signs.  There’s something strange about that.  But if you went to the Grand Canyon with some friends, and took a picture together with them in front of the sign, it would be a reminder to you of a greater experience.  You’d put that picture in a frame in your home or on your desk, and when you see it you remember the experience.  You don’t just remember the cool sign – you remember the whole trip, just by looking at that sign.

 Now imagine you’re opening one of Tanya’s scrapbooks, and you open to a page and see one of those pictures of us in front of a sign.  And you turn the page… and there’s nothing more from the trip.  “What about the pictures of the canyon?” you ask.

 “Oh, we didn’t actually GO to the canyon.  We just took a picture at the sign.”

“You didn’t go to the canyon?!”

 “No, we went up to the sign, felt the intricate carvings.  We thought about how talented someone must have been to carve such a sign.  Then we took lots of pictures of it and went home.”

 You’d think we were not quite right.  The sign is not the point.  It’s what the sign points TO that’s important.

 In the same way, the signs Jesus did are not things for us to stare and wonder at.  We don’t have records of the miracles just so we can say, “Wow, Jesus turned water into wine!  How cool is that?”  We look BEYOND those miracles and see what God is saying: 

 “I provide for all your needs, even the little ones that make a big difference.” 

 “I can use anything to do something special.”

 “Despite what you think sometimes, I really am working in your world.”

 And it’s the same way with the signs God places in our lives.  God doesn’t just heal us so we can say, “look, God can make me well again!”  It points us to something else God is telling us, something greater.

 The second thing about signs is that they make something special or significant out of something ordinary.  The signs point out that what looks like just an average highway is really the entrance to a National Park.  What looks like a normal road is really the road we turn on to get to Victoria.  What looks like just another brick building is Kenbridge Baptist Church.  What looks like an average home is really the home where so-and-so was born.  Then suddenly, what was ordinary becomes extraordinary. 

 God uses the ordinary to do something extraordinary.  God places signs in our world and in our lives, but they’re buried in the ordinary.  In fact, sometimes they may even seem hidden, and we’ll miss them if we’re not looking.  Look at some of the ordinary ways God placed signs in people’s lives:

• Burning bush
• Water from a rock
• Water into wine
• Fishes and loaves

 There are so many signs that we probably miss lots of them along the way.  And Jesus did so many signs that we don’t have a record of them all.  John records a few, but then at the end of his Gospel he writes that Jesus did so many other signs that the world could not contain them if we wrote them down.  But what made these signs significant, probably, is that they were significant to John himself – who certainly seems to have been an eyewitness.

 Which leads me to the final thing we can see about signs – they are personal.  They don’t mean the same thing every time, and they likely don’t mean the same thing to every person.  They are personal and individual. 

 When I look at the picture of me and my family standing in front of the Grand Canyon sign, I don’t remember how beautiful that sign was.  In my mind, I look beyond that sign to the beautiful vistas, the gorgeous sunsets over the canyon.  I remember how arid the landscape is.  I remember the first time I’d been looking down with a little surprise, then suddenly caught perspective of how BIG it really is.  That’s what I see when I look at that sign. 

 If you haven’t been to the Grand Canyon, you probably think of pictures you’ve seen.  If you have been, you have your own wealth of experiences and memories.  That sign means something different to every one of us – something significant and special that is ours alone. 

 Notice that John doesn’t say what this sign means.  It means something different to each person who was there.  To Jesus, it may have been confirmation – maybe his hour HAD come.  To the disciples, we see that they came to believe and trust Jesus a little more strongly.  Who knows what it meant to the servants who poured that water?  It was the same sign, but it meant something different to each person.  It didn’t have the same effect on everyone.  In fact, Jesus’ later signs produce dramatically different effects – Jesus’ raising Lazarus from the dead inspired true faith in some, but to the Pharisees it was the nail in the coffin… they begin making plans to kill him.

 In fact, there are many signs that seem to be made just for us – signs God places in our lives that others may not see. 

 So my question for myself this morning, and my question for you as well, is this:  What do we do, what HAVE we done, with the signs God has given to us?

 We can react many different ways to signs we see on the road.  We may see that “curvy road” sign, but do we ignore it, driving straight ahead into the river?

 Or do we commit the opposite error, and stop and stare at the beautiful and perfect sign sitting by the road?

 Or, more dangerously, do we see it, but stop paying attention to it?  Do we turn the extraordinary back into the ordinary – turn the wine back into water, as William Willimon has put it?  Do we stop paying attention to the signs God places in our paths and allow them to become ordinary again, losing the power they have to guide, teach, and inspire us?

In the case of the movie, “An Inconvenient Truth,” there are some times when knowing leads us to crisis. Are we going to react in faith by acting on what we know? Or are we going to pretend we didn’t hear it?

We also had another kind of vote here in Virginia: the marriage amendment passed overwhelmingly. I don’t think anyone was surprised. We haven’t seen the end of this issue — It will become a national/federal issue before long. And then Virginia will be knee-deep in it once again.

In other states’ news, I had to laugh at the ad that Corker ran against Ford in the last days of the Tennessee election… and almost had to cry when I saw that it worked.

While I did have a thought that wrapped up some of my recent thinking on faith, for the most part I’m fresh out of originality right now. I’m pouring most of my creativity these days into my ministry and my sermons (which are no longer published unless I get to write them down). So, instead of giving any original ideas out right now, I’m going to instead point you to a few places that have sparked my interest lately.

Explore some links. See what you think. I’m interested in your responses.

I am continually saddened by the goings-on in the Western Christian world. I am very sad and sorry for Ted Haggard, who reminds me of myself in some ways. The higher up we are in the world, the higher our pedestal, the greater must be our eventual fall. My heart and prayers are with Mr. Haggard right now as he comes to terms with a new kind of life – and applaud him for his eventual honesty and the mode of restoration he seeks.

By the way, I appreciated what Tony Campolo had to say about the matter.

I am also deeply saddened by the concept of brainwashing promoted by the camp leaders in the film “Jesus Camp,” but am even more saddened that some people (presumably Christians?) decided that the best way to deal with it is to vandalize and promote a kind of backwards warfare. What kind of message are we sending to those children?

Look in the next post for more…

Why war against an evil dictator in Iraq, but not Darfur?

Why a call in our churches to action spreading Good News to every human being, but not Darfur?

Why powerful sanctions and rhetoric against nuclear weapons in Iran and North Korea, but not Darfur?

Why spend our money on iPods, clothes, computers, books, satellite TV… but not Darfur?

Why do we argue over heaven and hell, Mohammed and Jesus, evolution and creation, but not Darfur?

My preaching professor, Dr. Robert Smith, told me once that getting out of my notes to preach would be a bog challenge for me. He was right. Someone else told me it would be my greatest joy in preaching. That person was right too.

It’s not that I’m preparing any less. It’s just that I’m allowing a little more freedom in my preaching. Call it movement of the Spirit or whatever you will. I’m just aware that a sermon is never what I intended it to be when I wrote it down.

So, until we find a way to put audio copies of my sermons online (or find someone crazy enough to type them all down after I speak them), you’ll have to settle for the occasional sermon I get typed up.

Currently, we’re on a sermon series on Women of Faith in the Old Testament. Come join us on Sundays in October and November to hear some really cool (and funny) stories of Old Testament women that God used.

Blessings to you!

Jon

P.S. – In regards to the last sermon I published here on adoption, see the following article:

It makes me sad on so many fronts, but especially two. First, that the whole world has to hear as this church deals with this mess. If it were a smaller church, chances are no one would care. But it’s Bellvue. Whether you’re a congregation of 30 or 30,000, you’ve got to be sad when your church gets this kind of publicity.

Second, that the matter has been handled in such a political way, instead of open and honest dialogue. If there was no wrongdoing, answer the questions. If there was wrongdoing, ‘fess up and answer the questions. No matter what really happened, the worst thing you can do is sit on it and hope it will go away.

I, for one, offer my prayers for the people and leadership of Bellvue – that they will be able to have open and mature dialogue about this problem, and that together they can seek God’s continued will for their church family.

When I received a form letter from Jerry Falwell in the church PO Box (which, strangely enough considering my theological position, happens pretty often), my interest was even more piqued. I went online and did some preliminary study, but other things kept my attention so I decided I’d come back to the issue later.

Then a couple of weeks ago, as I studied during one of the more quiet parts of the day (while the girls are asleep), I heard feet on the steps outside, then someone pounded on the door and rang the doorbell several times. I jumped up quickly – first, because the manner of the knocking made me wonder if someone was in trouble to come so violently to my door. Second, I knew the ruckus might wake the girls. So I ran to the door… only to find there, in the middle of a pouring rain, an honest and sincere man in a cowboy hat.

He introduced himself and we talked briefly, then he put a manila envelope in my hands. “I’m here on behalf of the Virginia For Marriage group, and they asked me to go around handing out these Pastor’s Packets.” Considering the name of the group, I had the feeling I knew which side of the fence he stood on. I wanted to ask him to talk to me a little about it, but we were both cold and wet by now, and I didn’t want to invite him in because the girls were asleep. So I thanked him, said something along the lines of, “Thanks… can’t guarantee I’ll use all this stuff, but I’ll certainly read it.” He looked at me uncertainly as we shook hands, then glanced back over his shoulder a couple of times as he went back down the sidewalk.

I came to the office later in the afternoon and pulled the packet out. I scanned it. I looked more closely at some parts. In many places I saw lists of things the amendment would do. Most of them were something along the lines of, “Limit marriage to one man and one woman,” “protect the institution of marriage from activist judges who would try to legislate from the bench” (somewhere I’ve seen this exact language before, I just can’t remember where). They were also careful to show that the amendment won’t “take away existing rights from anyone,” that it won’t affect wills, employment benefits, or agreements between unmarried individuals. I assumed (rightly, it turns out) that these statements were in response to the claims of the amendment’s opponents.

There was a letter from Liberty University’s legal counsel, explaining that it was legal for churches to work in favor of this amendment (nowhere saying it was OK to speak against it). Accordingly, there were also bulletin inserts, links to sermons, a letter declaring Nov. 5 as “Marriage Protection Sunday,” and an “Adopt a Precinct” program whereby a church can agree to be active in their area promoting the passage of the amendment.

I looked far and wide through the packet for the actual wording of the amendment. It was hard to find. On one brochure, in the tiniest font used in the entire 10-page packet – almost an afterthought – was the wording of the amendment itself:

That only a union between one man and one woman may be a marriage valid in or recognized by the Commonwealth and its political subdivisions. This Commonwealth and its political subdivisions shall not create or recognize a legal status for relationships of unmarried individuals that intends to approximate the design, qualities, significance, or effects of marriage. Nor shall this Commonwealth or its political subdivisions create or recognize another union, partnership, or other legal status to which is assigned the rights, benefits, obligations, qualities or effects of marriage.

I couldn’t help but feel somewhat insulted. Do these well-meaning folks not trust their readers and constituents to be able to read this proposed amendment for themselves? I could look it up on the internet for myself, but I imagine that many other people just look at the interpretation and never think to see what the original says. Sure, give me your interpretation of it, but at least let me see the information for myself!

I’m still mulling the matter over a few days later when I get a phone call at the church office. On the other end is a more softly-spoken member of the same group, telling me about the amendment and what it will do. Thinking this is simply a grass-roots phone campaign, I listen patiently, and learn a little more about the matter as I hear him explain it. He offers to bring me some information. I offer my thanks for his phone call, but tell him I already have the information I need to make my decision.

Finally, he concludes by asking if he can bring me a packet, some bumper stickers and yard signs to hand out to my congregation. At this point, I realize he’s soliciting me as a pastor. For some reason, this makes me angry. I try to keep calm as I explain that I plan only to make my people aware of the issue and the fact that there’s a vote, and to encourage them to vote their own consciences. I plan to stay neutral on the issue as a pastor.

There is silence on the other end of the line. Finally, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly: “So you plan to be… neutral?”

“Yes, from the pulpit,” I explain. “I have my own personal opinion on the matter, of course. But as a pastor, I don’t feel it’s my place to tell people how to vote. They have minds and spirits – they can decide on this issue for themselves.” Here, I was speaking something I’d never put into words before, but realized this was my stand on the matter.

More silence. Finally, he said, “Well, OK then…” in an uncertain voice that left me feeling he didn’t think too much of my decision. I hung up the phone, wondering whether I might find a big pile of signs on my front yard the next morning.

I can’t get past a couple of points that stick out to me in all this hooplah. First, while I’m certainly no political expert, I can recognize a ploy when I see one. It’s no accident that this issue is coming up at the same time as mid-term elections. Make all the points about the morality of the matter you want, but timing and presentat
ion tell us what’s really going on. Even Jerry Falwell admits this.

Second, I can’t get past the fact that these people who have solicited me – be it by coming to my front door, calling me on the phone, placing yard signs around town, or sending me a form letter – have a certain expectation of me. I’m a pastor, and, like all other folks who work in very visible public positions, I have a little alarm that goes off when I realize someone has placed their expectations on me.

Nowhere in any of this literature or solicitation was I asked, “Have you considered taking this to your congregation?” In no place was there even any room for doubt or question that good Christian pastors might decide NOT to make this a congregational issue. No need to think about this, to look at both sides of the issue. It was just assumed: “Of course you’ll vote for this and encourage other people to as well – we’re all Christians, right?”

My personal feelings on the amendment aside (please know that’s NOT the issue I’m talking about… feel free to ask about my own feelings, which might or might not surprise you): I feel insulted, and I feel that my congregation has been insulted, that someone would ask me to tell them how to vote. God gave all of us brains, and the Holy Spirit works in our lives to convict us and guide us. I am amazed that Baptists – of all denominations – would encourage this kind of activity, considering our strong emphasis on the priesthood of the believer.

If you are a Virginian, I encourage you to VOTE on November 7. Notice, I don’t say “I encourage you to vote YES,” or “I encourage you to vote NO.” Rather, I encourage you to look the matter over thoughtfully and educate yourself, pray over the matter, then vote as you feel God has led you. For education, you can check out both sides of the argument – va4marriage.org, or votenova.org. Or just Google “Virginia marriage amendment” and see what you come up with.

Be informed. Search the scriptures. Ask God to guide your conscience. Then vote. I think that’s a guideline we can all live by, no matter what our political persuasion.

If you read that, I apologize. Fact is, that story could have happened in any small town over any kind of issue. But it’s something I should have kept to myself. I did not mean to make fun of Kenbridge in any way, or to speak negatively of anyone in the town – including those who, either from neglect or inability to do so, have let their own properties get into disarray. I imagine that at the busiest point of the summer when I hadn’t had time to get out and do yardwork, a few folks in town must have wondered, “When is that Baptist preacher ever going to mow his yard?!”

I’m embarrassed to admit that all the hooplah was over something so simple and yet luxurious as a satellite dish. I had talked myself into thinking maybe that the “right to have 100 or more channels” had been somehow written into the Bill of Rights. Fact is, satellite TV is one of those things most of us would be better off without. I’m not even sure we watch enough TV to make it worth what we pay for it. Here we are, spending HOW MUCH a month on TV, when people around the world don’t have enough to eat?

So all this to say two things: 1) I’m sorry if you found that post offensive. After I reread it, I found it offensive too. And, 2) Thanks, Mom, for helping me see things from a different perspective.

I got the needed jolt. A few days after that, I went to a meeting in Richmond for new ministers in the Virginia Baptist Mission Board. John Upton, our Executive Director, had several good words to offer, but there was one point at which he seemed to know what I was going through. And the basic idea was this: Our “cutting edge” is different, no matter where we are, and we’re to be on our own cutting edge, not someone else’s.

I’ve recently (past two years) begun looking seriously at the Emergent conversation, thinking about the ways the Global Church is headed in the next decades. To me, that’s intriguing, even if I’m not always comfortable where the theology leads. And while it’s interesting to look at, that is currently another church’s cutting edge. It has affected my preaching and my ministry, and so my own cutting edge has been pushed. But that kind of church won’t make it out here for quite a while to come.

Or will it? Is that kind of church even possible in a rural setting? I’ve long been thinking about the context here – how most folks here have heard the Gospel and have been to church, but few have probably seen a living example of the Gospel. That, I think, is where Emergent thinking has a lot to offer in my own setting: An idea that’s different enough that people in a Gospel-soaked culture might notice something different.

So maybe I ought to just start posting when I’ve got five minutes to write something. Like today.

This morning, I had an email in my inbox about how corrupt congress is (this e-mail, by the way, has been going around for a several years, and the numbers haven’t changed… hmmm). I looked around on the web, and found some sources that are a little more respectable in their approach. I even saw a blurb on CNN about this as I sat in the breakfast room at the hotel this morning. It’s all people are talking about – congress is corrupt.

OK… is anyone surprised by this? Big revelation here. Let’s see, we live in a democratic society and elect people who represent us – not just in voice, but who literally represent us in lawmaking and policy. Should we be surprised that they, on the whole, ACT like us too? I imagine if you took some of those statistics (the real ones, not the made-up ones), and expanded them to a national level, we’d find that congress pretty accurately represents who we are as a people.

We ELECTED these people, put them on the ballot and put them in office. If they do something good, everyone’s saying, “Oh yeah, I voted for him.” But suddenly, it’s not anyone’s fault when the skeletons come out of the closet.

It’s just funny to me. I don’t know why.

Pentecost 16 (B) – September 24, 2006

Introduction

Most of the time, I find a sermon and I look for a story to enhance or to illustrate the point of the sermon. But this week, as I prepared for what to say in response to God’s word about a special event like the one today, I realized that HERE was a story with a sermon in it. So I want to tell you the story today, and see where you find yourselves in it.

Their Story

Once upon a time, two children were born in a far-away country. Their mothers and fathers were not too far apart, but they were inseparably linked by the one factor that links so many people in our world – poverty. The people in that place lived in utter poverty, and there was no guarantee that these children would have anything to eat.

The poverty-stricken place they came to was a dangerous place for babies to live – the infant mortality rate was much higher than here. There was no guarantee that these children would see their first birthdays. And yet they were born here anyway.

These children were born into a place and time that was likely to stay as poor as it had begun. There were very few chances for improvement. Education was hard to come by. In all likelihood, these children would grow up to work the same difficult jobs that their parents had, and if they survived to adulthood would probably die prematurely because the living conditions were so poor.

And yet they were born. And their parents, realizing they had too many mouths to feed, took their children to places where they hoped they would be cared for – one a little boy, the other a little girl. And even though their chances had been slim before, suddenly their chance of getting an education or a home dropped even lower.

Until one day, when all this changed. A couple comes from another country. They cannot have children of their own, and are hoping to give someone a home. They come to a place where they do not speak the language, and they know the conditions are poor. And they bring these children to their own home.

These children, who once could have no guarantee of food, suddenly find that they have all the food they need. Where before they would know only hunger, now they may never know a time when they were hungry.

These children, who once had no guarantee of life, suddenly find that they have medical care and the things they need to survive. Where they may have only known temporary shelter from rain and cold before, now they will know clean, warm and dry homes. They will likely live to the ages any of us may expect.

But more importantly than any of these things – more than the food, more than the shelter, more than the medical care, more than the toys and the many things they enjoy – these children have hope at last. Where before, they might have had access to school but could not go because they could not have afforded clothes and supplies, now they can go to school and learn and grow and improve themselves. Where before they might have had limited opportunities for jobs, now there are no limits – they can be doctors, teachers, lawyers, scientists, farmers… whatever they want. They will likely go father in life than their fathers, mothers or siblings could ever have hoped.

And finally, they have a home and a family. Where before they had a makeshift family of nurses and caretakers in an orphanage, now they have a mother, a father, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Where before they had a place they could go because someone was required to care for them, now they have a place they can go where they are loved and welcomed because of who they are.

And they are no longer outcasts. They aren’t simply brought along for a few years and then abandoned again. They aren’t here just for a few years until the government moves them somewhere else. They are children with parents – children with an inheritance, a family and a home. Children whose parents are theirs in every way except for blood. And they will know the love of real parents as long as they are alive.

It’s a beautiful story. And it’s a story that goes on, for these parents have so much love to share that now they’ve brought another home – another child who had a poor chance at a home, a poor chance at food, a poor chance at survival, a poor chance at education, a poor chance at life. And to this beautiful little girl, they have given life – a home, food, clothing. And even more – love, a family, a place to belong.

Our Story

Once upon a time, a two children were born. They may have been separated by space – one was born in Virginia, and another in Alabama. They may have been separated by time – one born in the 1940’s, another in the 1970’s. They may have had different families – one from a loving home with two parents and several siblings, the other with a broken home and no siblings.

And yet, far apart as they were, they shared a common link that is shared by every human being born. We may have lots of food, clothing, shelter and stuff, but we live in spiritual poverty, desperately needing a place to call home. We are completely sinful and helpless to do anything about it. There’s no guarantee that we’ll ever be able to make it out of the sinful cycle of death and destruction that is bound to this place called earth.

These two children had no hope of improving themselves. Even though they may have had families, food, clothing and education, still they were missing something. They may have had the things that they needed here, but they still needed something they could not get on their own – grace when they made mistakes. Mercy when they had asked for the wrong things so many times. Purpose, when they thought their lives were only about making money and having stuff. Strength when they faced situations that were too difficult to bear.

And most of all, they needed a home that would outlast all the earthly homes they could find here. They needed love that was bigger than they could find in an earthly family. They needed a love that would outlast all the loves that sometimes fail us here. They needed life that would take them beyond the existence we see here sometimes.

They needed love.

And then someone came. He came from a distant country, and told us of a place more beautiful than anything we’d seen. He came and lived a life – and died a death – that made it possible for us to see that new life.

Where before, we had only known a harsh and unforgiving world, suddenly we found forgiveness so free and full that it seems too good to be true.

Where before we had only known a world that was “every man for himself,” suddenly we found a place where grace brought us together with the strength of a family.

Where before we had only been poor and miserable – no matter how much money we may have had – suddenly we found a place where mercy was given to us, and we were completely loved for who we are.

Where before, the only purpose and meaning in life we had known was to look out for ourselves and gain all the things for ourselves that we could, suddenly we found a place where we could see meaning from an eternal perspective – where giving is greater than receiving, where forgiving is better than holding a grudge, where loving each other really makes a difference.

Where before, the things we have would only last us as long as we’re alive, suddenly we find an inheritance that outlasts this life – a treasure of love and acceptance that will last to eternity.

We have found a home. And it’s not just a temporary home. We haven’t been taken into this home for just a little while, later to be let go. No, we have a REAL Father, who has adopted us and made us his own sons and daughters. We have all the rights of a full child in the family. And where before we were lonely, suddenly we’re surrounded by more Brothers and Sisters than we can count.

God loves us, and he wants to take us home. Not as slaves, not as servants. Not as just foster children who will one day have to fend for themselves again. But as REAL children, here and now. And he came a long way – from heaven to very earth, born in a manger, living among the poor and outcasts – so that he could make us his children

You see, each of us can be adopted as children of God. Not for a day, not for a short time – but for all of eternity. And that adoption doesn’t come when we die. We don’t have to wait until we’re no longer “minors” to enjoy the inheritance that has been left to us.

Because our inheritance is more than just living forever. It’s more than just our own little paving stone in the streets of gold, better than a mansion in the sky. Our inheritance and our home can be found right HERE and NOW.

Suddenly, we’re loved and accepted for who we are, not for what we can contribute to someone else’s well-being.

Suddenly, we find grace and forgiveness for the things we have done wrong.

Suddenly, we have purpose and meaning – to live in a way so that OTHERS will be adopted too, so that our whole world can be taken into God’s love.

Suddenly, we are in a home, surrounded by our true brothers and sisters, all children of the same Father – siblings in every way except for blood.

Conclusion

Now I want us to return to our first story for a little twist. Imagine these children in a few years. Imagine they have grown, gone to school and to college. And imagine we go looking for them at home and they are not there. We look for them at their jobs, and they are not there. We look for them among their own families, and they are not there.

To find them, we travel all the way back to the far-off country where they were born. And there they are, living among the same people. They show no signs that they were ever adopted, even though legally they are still full children of their adopted parents. They wear rags and no shoes. They work the jobs they should have had to work. They act as if they’ve had no education. They are already sick from lack of proper medical care. They will not improve themselves or anyone else.

In short – they are living as though they had never been adopted.

And what about us? Are we acting as the adopted children of God? Are we living as children who have been given so much love, forgiveness and acceptance that we have to give it away? Or are we hoarding it to ourselves?

Are we acting as those who are loved with a greater love than we can imagine? Or are we still acting as though we must find acceptance – by enslaving ourselves to what others think of us?

Are we acting as those whose every need will be provided for? Or are we worrying as if we will never have enough?

Are we acting as the adopted children of God?

Wow.

There are several things disturbing about this story to me, besides the fact that I’m pretty sure some of the stories being told are either embellished or downright false.

First, Warren says in his own book that his style of church will not work everywhere. Of all the places in the world you’d expect a hard time implementing a California-based church model, the Deep South would be on the top of the list to me. Living in Birmingham, I saw several churches try it, and many of them are now in shambles. The main problem is that Warren’s model is more lay-driven, while many Deep South SBC churches are still very top-driven (much as they may try to deny it).

A church is a living organism. You can’t go to India and uproot a rubber tree, bring it to the desert climate of Arizona and plant it there. It will die. It does not have the characteristics needed to live in that kind of environment. You cannot take a postmodern seeker-style church model, uproot a traditional church, and replace the roots. It’s silly. And it’s usually done in the name of gaining members.

Second, while I’m sure some of these stories were exaggerated or made up, there must be some element of truth to the way the Bellevue church staff is behaving. And my question to all those raising their hands in protest is: Did you not expect this? Did you look at Gaines’ past actions? Did you see how his Gardendale Church was run before you brought him to Memphis? I visited the church in Gardendale on a couple of occasions while I was in Birmingham, and am not in the least bit surprised – just from my observations of his worship leadership – that some of these stories might be true.

This is sad to me on so many levels. Bellevue is a great church with a deep history of doing God’s kingdom work.

I’m also posting on the blog of a friend of mine, and that conversation (currently on the topic of God and evil) is taking up most of my blogging time and energy at the moment. Check it out if you have time. It’s waitingtolive.wordpress.com.

Also, I’ve completed work (for the time being, there are still a few bugs to work out) on the Kenbridge Baptist Website. Included in this launch is a blog that will contain my weekly sermons. They can either be read directly from the blog site, or from a page embedded in the church website.

Who knew I had this much time to write?!

Why am I here, God? Why have you brought me to this place? I love the people, I love the work (when I’m able to give myself to it fully). But I feel out of place, like a wildflower planted in the middle of an interstate. Or maybe more like a weed in a garden. I don’t know.

In the last two years, I’ve read and prayed and thought of a different kind of Church, a different kind of Christianity. And my soul resonates with that. My mind rejoices in a faith that seems less like a straightjacket, and more like a comfortable pair of sweats. My spirit rejoices that a God who seemed so distant for long time now seems just a bit closer, just a bit more like a God I’d want to know. My heart quickens to think that this deep thirst may be closer to being quenched… or at least, satiated for a while.

But I feel like I’ve been paraded by the beautiful fountain, only to be led out into the desert. I feel dried up, abandoned, helpless. Where I am now seems like the opposite of that place I want to be. All those things that I have talked about the Old Church being? All those stuffy flannel-board images of God, all those meaningless repetitions of prayers and songs? That’s where I am. And it doesn’t seem my “new kind of Christianity” is making much of a difference.

Why am I here? Surely I am in the place God wants me to be, but why is it that – no matter how much I may see a place and think it’s where I need to be – why is it that when God puts me there, I almost immediately begin to feel it’s not right? I know it MUST be right. The circumstances behind it, the affirmations of the Spirit, everything shows me that God has brought me here.

So why do I feel like “here” is a desert, and not a lush pasture?

Humphreys suggests using the term “Apprentice” instead, one who follows a master around watching him closely, learning from him what to do. An apprentice to a plumber follows an experienced plumber around, all the while watching and listening to what the master does and says, so that one day this apprentice can one day be a master plumber as well.

For some reason, when I looked at that statement, all the baggage fell off the term “disciple” for me. I could suddenly see myself as one of those disciples, following Jesus around, watching his every action and listening to every word. I was standing there by the seaside, when he came to me and called me to follow him. Like the others, I looked around and wondered whether he had really meant ME. But, sensing that there was more to this than just a simple decision, I stood and followed him.

For some reason, I feel this has revitalized me… has the potential to transform me even. But I don’t feel like this can be done alone. I feel as if this has to be a community thing. I’ve long felt that it would be easier to live the life of a disciple in a community of believers who are encouraging each other and lifting each other up in prayer.

But does such a community exist? Can I find such a place? Can I help CREATE such aa place?

Pentecost +15 (B) – September 17, 2006

Introduction

When I study for a sermon, I look in lots of places. I start out in the scripture, of course – looking at the passage itself. I look for passages that are related to the one I am studying, I look at the passage in light of the whole book, and I look at the original languages if I need to. Then I start to look at what other folks have said about this passage. And as I have looked through the commentaries on the lectionary for this past few weeks, preachers and commentators have steered clear of James like the plague. They will look at Mark, they’ll look at the OT passages that are coming along, but they won’t look at James. And very, very few preachers wanted to have anything to do with today’s passage about speech and the tongue.

We’ve looked at James the last two weeks, and we’ve seen his main points:

• We have to look closely at the Scriptures,
• and we have to be disciplined to apply everything we see there.
• Otherwise, we’re like people who glance at ourselves in the mirror, see what a mess we are, and walk on as if we haven’t seen anything!

James thinks that simple belief in God is nothing. We have to let that belief influence how we live our lives. He gives us some good examples of how we sometimes neglect letting the Gospel into our lives. First, he speaks of prejudice and how we view other people. In a passage we haven’t studied, James speaks of caring for the poor – not just talking about it, but actually doing it.

And now, James comes to what he obviously considers the “last frontier.” And it’s a place we’d rather not go. James turns his attention next to our speech.

Taking About the Tongue

I’m sure we can all identify with this. After all, who here hasn’t got a funny story of some time that our words got us in trouble? Less than a year ago, I was preaching on All Saints’ Sunday, and talking about how people in the Philippines stay overnight in the cemeteries with their loved ones, and then I said something I’m still embarrassed by to this day – “Most of us white, Western folks wouldn’t get caught dead in a graveyard.” I don’t know why, but I was so afraid that slip up would offend some people!

We mess up in what we say all the time… no one is perfect. And we’re all used to the illustration that probably every pastor has used in a children’s sermon – the tube of toothpaste. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get that toothpaste back in there! So it is with our words – we can’t take them back, no matter how much we’d give to be able to sometimes.

And some people make a living off words. Turn on Jay Leno or David Letterman, or open a good page-turning novel, and you’ll see people who make a pretty good living with words. Words can be a funny business, or a profitable business, and we’re all keenly aware of just how funny and potent words can be.

But I want you to look back into this passage for just a moment and see if you can find the funny part of what James is saying. You won’t find anything. Now granted, James is a little prone to over-seriousness at times, but this passage is at the heart of James’ letter. He mentions our speech at two different places in the letter, and spends a good portion of time here on the very topic. James isn’t making a humorous point here. Not a single illustration is funny. To James, this is a deadly serious matter.

And this isn’t just James going on about gossip – gossip is only one way we misuse our language. James seems to be talking as if there’s more at stake than just a few hurt feelings! Words are at the heart of our existence and our relationship with one another. All we have to do is take a brief look through the Scripture to see that words are worth more than we give them credit for.

What God does with Words

I sometimes tend to think that my words are kind of expendable. And for preachers who make a living out of talking, we sometimes get to the point where “talk is cheap.” People watch us more closely to see if we’re really living out what we say, so sometimes I’m aware that I can say almost anything and it won’t make a difference unless I live it out.

But in God’s economy, talk is never cheap. When God speaks, things happen. Look at a few of the things we see in the Scripture that God does with words.

• He creates the world. Notice that Genesis doesn’t say, “God waved his hands and there was light.” It says, “God spoke into the darkness, and there was light.” We’ve talked before about how “Spirit” and “breath” are the same words in Hebrew. There’s a reason – God’s Word, God’s breath, God’s Spirit, are powerful things.
• At the Tower of Babel, human beings were getting too ambitious for their own good and trying to put themselves in God’s place. So God separated all of humanity – but not by creating political barriers and separating people into cultures. No, God used language – he gave them different languages, and that was the most powerful way they could have been separated.
• God makes a covenant with the people of Israel. He could have laid down a complex code of laws, a constitution for the people of Israel. But instead, Exodus tells us that God spoke “Ten Words” for his people. Those words had power and authority.
• He governs his people. God speaks to his judges and his prophets in order to make his will known, his pleasure or his displeasure with his people.
• He changes names in order to reflect a change in status and to give a new mission.
  • God renames Abram and Sarah to show them that, at about 100 years old and without children, they are to become parents of a great nation.
  • God renames Jacob – a “trickster” or a “con-man,” into “Israel,” – one who strives with God, and who will be the father of a great nation.
  • Jesus renames Simon into Peter – the rock on which his church will be founded.

In fact, in the Hebrew Scriptures, it seems that “God’s Word” is not only the power of God in action, but also God’s presence among his people. That’s why when John describes Jesus, he doesn’t start by calling him the “Son of Man,” the “Son of God,” or any of the other appropriate titles. John looks back to that very first chapter in Genesis, where God’s Word created the world, and he calls Jesus “the Word.” But more than just God’s power, this is the Word that is God’s presence among us – “The Word became flesh and lived among us.”

And in seminary, that’s what we learned about how God lives among us today. Somehow, when you open that Bible in your lap and read those Words, or when I get up in this pulpit and pronounce these Words – somehow, in some mysterious way, God is present with us in that Word. God is here with us this morning in a very tangible way.

What We Do with Words

If we see how carefully and seriously God uses words, we might begin to see how important words are to us as well. Wars have begun because of someone’s careless words, and wars have ended with the words of a treaty or peace accord. Jobs are won because someone can speak the right words in an interview, and jobs are lost because someone said the wrong words to the boss or wrote the wrong email. Relationships are broken because harsh words were spoken, and if they are ever mended it usually begins with the simple words, “I’m sorry.”

And I, as a minister and pastor, am very aware of the words I say and how they can affect people. I have a couple of good stories that illustrate this. When I was in high school, I had a very good friend who I’d grown up with at church. I spent a good deal of time at his house, playing video games, basketball, and all kinds of other things.

But one afternoon I was at his house, and this friend of mine did something – something that was embarrassing and quite wrong. What he did is not important to this story, so I won’t tell you. Just know that it was a very serious thing. I knew he had no mean motives in what he did, but it was shocking to me, and I left wondering what I should do about it.

What I did was the wrong thing. I started telling people at our school. I just happened to let it slip one day, and there it was. I didn’t have to elaborate or exaggerate the story – I was just telling the truth! But just like toothpaste out of the tube, I could not put those words back in my mouth. When I realized what I’d done, I apologized and tried to make amends. I tried to tell people that what he’d done was not really that bad, that he just didn’t know what he was doing. But it was too late. The damage was done.

This yong man and I were not friends after that. I lost a good friendship. More than that, he and his family stopped coming to our church a few weeks later. Then the next year, he moved to a different school. It may have had little to do with what I’d done. Or it may have had lots to do. But as many times as I felt remorse, as many times as I apologized, I still carry a little twinge of guilt – even 15 years later – that I had done that.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, but it’s so easy to let things like that slip. Another time, a youth in our church in Birmingham went on the second trip we took to Mexico. He had just gotten more active and involved in church, and we were excited that he was going along. But he is a competitive person, and while we played cards in the evening, he was the kind of rude competitor that nobody wanted to play. He was good, and he told you. I can’t stand that kind of thing.

So, I started talking. I complained to others there, and once or twice, I’m pretty sure I was in a place he could hear me talking. He got very distant for the second half of the trip, stopped playing cards. Then, just about a month after we got back, he simply stopped coming to church. Last I heard, he’d pretty much lost his faith in God and was not going anywhere to church.

Again, it may not have been my words that did that. But it may HAVE been my words. And I’ll carry that on my conscience for a long time.

Now even though our message this morning is not just about gossip, it’s important to make a note about gossip. How many times have I told myself that “I’m not gossiping, I’m telling the truth.” I think we all need to be reminded, however, that truthfulness is not what determines gossip. The things I said in these situations were absolutely true, but sometimes there are things that are true that don’t need to be said. Abraham Lincoln was famously quoted as saying, “I would rather remain silent and be thought a fool than speak out and remove all doubt.”

What James Says About Words

Why are words such an important part of our lives? Maybe we can take some clues from what James says about our speech. Obviously he considers it a very important part of being godly. And he uses several good illustrations to get his point across.

(2) For we all stumble in many ways. If someone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect individual, able to control the entire body as well.

“Stumble” is basically “fail.” We all fail in many ways. The first image James uses, subtly, is that of an athlete – who, as Paul puts it, is “beating his body into submission.” We can train our muscles, can hone our coordination and fine motor skills to accomplish a task (ever played a sport?). We can even bend our bodies into a certain shape, stretch our bones, do all kinds of things to control our bodies (ever seen Cirque de Soleil?). But while all this self-control is admirable, there is one final frontier: The tongue.

Later, in verses 7-8, James carries this illustration on to talk of how we can domesticate nearly every animal on the earth. But no one can fully tame the tongue.

James’ speech in this verse seems almost sarcastic or ironic: Since no one can NOT stumble in their speech, there is no perfect individual.

Isn’t it true that we can be so disciplined in so many ways, but that we can let slip a damaging word as easily as a breath?

(3) And if we put bits into the mouths of horses to get them to obey us, then we guide their entire bodies.

The second image used by James speaks to how we use words with others. A small metal bar in the mouth of a horse can do wonders – it can guide the entire horse one way or another, even bring the horse to a calm that would be otherwise impossible. So can words guide (or even control) other people.

Look at the words we speak together here on Sunday mornings – the words we use have power, whether we pay attention to it or not. We sing hymns that carry heavy theological meaning, we read Scripture that is capable of transforming our lives. We say the Lord’s Prayer – a tradition so old here that it probably evokes some kind of memory every time we say it. The words we use here can be powerful.

Look, too, at the other ways we use words – for other kinds of ends. Words can manipulate a crowd, can persuade someone to do something they would not ordinarily do. Look at the rhetorical power used by our nation’s Founding Fathers, who stirred sleepy colonies into the fire of revolution. Look at the powerful rhetoric used by people like Hitler, Stalin, David Koresh, and look what they accomplished.

James is no fool, and he doesn’t want us to be either. He knows that properly used words can, like a bridle, calm a raging horse, or stir a calm horse into a frenzy.

(4) Look at ships too: Though they are so large and driven by harsh winds, they are steered by a tiny rudder wherever the pilot’s inclination directs.

James’ third illustration is of a ship’s rudder. This speaks more to the effect that words can have on our own lives. Most of us are used to smaller boats on very short trips. But James is not speaking of fishing boats, that often have no rudders. He’s talking about large international ships. A small variation in rudder direction on a voyage like that can make all the difference. If you set sail from New York to the east, a rudder change of just a few degrees of that many miles can mean the difference between landing in England or landing in Africa. Over a short distance, an error can be easily corrected, but in the long distance it can mean hundreds of miles of difference.

The idea James is emphasizing is that our words have an effect on our own course, our lives’ own directions. Words spoken in the right place and the right time can land us a great job, a promotion, or a windfall. Words spoken carelessly at the wrong time can leave us crippled for the rest of our lives. Politicians know this truth better than any of us – how many political careers have been ruined because someone said just the wrong thing?

(5) So too the tongue is a small part of the body, yet it has great pretensions. Think how small a flame sets a huge forest ablaze.

(6) And the tongue is a fire! The tongue represents the world of wrongdoing among the parts of our bodies. It pollutes the entire body and sets fire to the course of human existence and is set on fire by hell.

Again, another illustration – this one using fire. You’ve all probably heard that song, that to my generation has come to symbolize 70’s spirituality – “It only takes a spark to get a fire going.” That can be true in many ways – spiritually and physically. Few forest fires are sparked by someone who’s really trying to do it. Not many people sneak out to a forest and say, “I’d like to burn up hundreds of miles of forest, burn down people’s homes, and pollute the environment.”

No, most forest fires are carelessly started. Someone throws a cigarette out the window onto a pile of leaves. Someone doesn’t properly put out a campfire. Someone’s burning some brush on their land and the wind stirs the fire out of control.

So are our words, says James. We don’t have to be intentionally cruel to do damage with our words. Careless talk is enough. And we may never realize all the damage it has done.

(9) With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people made in God’s image.

(10) From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. These things should not be so, my brothers and sisters.

(11) A spring does not pour out fresh water and bitter water from the same opening, does it?

(12) Can a fig tree produce olives, my brothers and sisters, or a vine produce figs? Neither can a salt water spring produce fresh water.

And here, I think, is James’ final point. The illustrations he uses at the end – a spring that puts out both fresh and salt water; a tree that produces both figs and olives – shows just why James is concerned about words. The water from a spring comes from a source deep inside the ground. The fruit of a tree is determined by what kind of seed you planted to begin with. You can’t change a fig tree into an olive plant.

And neither can we simply change our words. We tell ourselves, “Maybe I can just shape up and say what I really mean.” But words are not something we can change like clothes. Jesus himself said, “Don’t you realize that it’s not what goes into the mouth that defiles a man, but what comes out of it?” James and Jesus both realize the powerful truth: Our words are a mirror to our hearts. What we say is a reflection of who we really are inside.

Words are not just part of who we are. Someone has said that “our speech is the pen of our heart.” James is not so concerned about words just because of what they have the potential to do (though he does see that quite clearly). The reason we have to be so careful about what comes out of our mouth, is that what comes out of our mouths often says something about who we are on the inside.

What Can We Do?

So we understand that words are powerful things, that we have to be ultimately careful of how we use them. But how? It’s so easy to be careless, and so hard to be careful! So what can we do? Just always be quiet and not say anything, like Abraham Lincoln? Maybe some of us need to heed that advice.

I think one of the things James would recommend to us is constant awareness. He uses many illustrations to get his point across, almost as if he’s hoping that we’ll get at least one of his illustrations and remember it. Remembering and being aware of the power of our words is the first step to being in better control of them.

It’s important to be disciplined on the “giving end” of words – to be careful of what we say, and to say nothing when it’s appropriate. But it’s also important to be discerning and forgiving on the “receiving end” of words. After all, it’s not always the words that are said that cause the trouble – many times, it’s the way they are taken. We should be discerning and careful in our listening, realizing that slips of the tongue are easy to make and being forgiving in what we hear.

One thing I always emphasize at funerals and visitations is that so many people want to say something helpful – their hearts are full of emotion. But quite often they don’t know how to express it properly. Even though they do not intend to be mean, I’ve heard some very hard things said at funeral visitation. It’s always important to remind ourselves that there’s more to what’s being said than just the words themselves – we have to look at the intentions and feelings of the heart. If we listen carefully, with a forgiving and merciful ear, we are less likely to allow a careless word to ruin our day, and we might even be able to counter a harsh word with love and acceptance… something that usually makes people stop and think.

Finally, I found a story this week that illustrates our point very well. Even though the story is more about anger than harsh words, I think the point applies equally well to what we’re discussing.

La Fontaine, chaplain of a Prussian regiment, preached a plain sermon on the sin of a hasty temper. The next day the major, a very passionate man, told him he had used his official liberty rather too freely. La Fontaine admitted that he had thought of him, but had no intention of being personal. “Well, it is of no use,” said the major. “I have a hasty temper, I cannot help it, and I cannot control it. It is impossible.” The next Sunday La Fontaine preached upon self-deception, and the excuses which men are apt to make, “Why,” said he, “a man will declare that it is impossible for him to control his temper, when he very well knows that, were the same provocation to happen in the presence of his sovereign, he not only could, but would, control himself. And yet he dares to say that the continual presence of the King of Kings imposes upon him neither restraint nor fear!” The next day the major again accosted him. “You were right yesterday, chaplain,” he said humbly. “Hereafter, when you see me in danger of falling, remind me of the King.” Let us always remember we are in the presence of Christ. Surely we would not wish to let our passions loose in the presence of the King.

When we say things, are we aware of what we are saying? Are we paying attention to our words? Other people are. And God is. And if we remember that we are always in the presence of Jesus, the Spirit is in us, that God our loving Father is a part of every conversation – how can we not help but be careful with our words and actions?

May God give us all the discipline and wisdom to guard our words, and forgiving spirits that show grace when someone else’s words are harmful to us.

When I was a child, I experienced the same scary experience that most of us have experienced: losing a parent. Though I know it happened many times, I remember one store in particular. It was a huge clothing outlet store in central Alabama. I was probably 8 years old, and my parents had come here to waste hours poring over things that were only a tiny bit cheaper than they could be gotten elsewhere. There were no toy stores in this outlet mall. Sadly the only store that caught my attention was a Black & Decker outlet… and drastically reduced metric crescent wrenches are only interesting to an eight-year-old for so long.

On one of these trips, I whiled away the time by letting my imagination roam free. It only seemed I was weaving through the racks where my mother was browsing – actually, I was weaving through the rain forest, looking for a tiger. As I let my reality catch up with my imagination, I stopped and looked around… and experienced that sudden sense of panic we all remember from some time in our lives. I had lost her. I looked in every direction for my mother, still not panicked enough to call out her name. I quickly backtracked, went to the places I knew she’d been. She wasn’t there. I kept looking, and now my fear had caught up with me – I began to cry.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only a minute or two. When I found her, I expected her to be anxiously searching for me as well. But she turned from examining a blouse or something, looked down at me, and asked why I was crying. Didn’t she know? Hadn’t we been lost? Wasn’t she as panic-stricken as me? Wasn’t she bursting with joy to know we’d found each other at last?

No. In fact, she’d known where I was the whole time. She’d watched me from over the top of the clothing racks, wondering why I was weaving so erratically through the store. Turns out that if I’d simply stopped and taken time to look, I would have seen her watching me, waiting for me to come back.

Sometimes I lose God. Like when I lose my sunglasses, only to find they’ve been on my head the whole time. Like when I got lost in the city, trying to get back to my skyscraper hotel – even though I never lost sight of it, I couldn’t quite figure out how to get back there.

Sometimes I lose God. But I’m never lost. And I’m always glad to be found.

A Sermon for Kenbridge Baptist Church

James 2:1-17, Matthew 15:21-28

Pentecost 14B: September 10, 2006

Introduction – Catching Up

Last week, we began a series on the book of James. I gave you a little bit of background on the book: That James was Jesus’ brother, that he was a leader in the Jerusalem church, that he was writing this book to Jews that were scattered across the ancient world because of persecution. I gave you a challenge – one I am going to continue. I challenge you to look more closely at the book of James, to read through the letter once each week. Look in that book and don’t just read it for information’s sake – FIND YOURSELF in that book, look intently at yourself and let God change you.

We talked briefly about the fact that many scholars place James and Paul on two different theological planes, but that I think James and Paul were both doctors treating two different diseases in thee Body of Christ. Paul, on the one hand, was combating the idea that Christians must live as slaves to every little law and command in order to be saved. James was fighting a different disease – one that is more relevant to our time and place, I think: The idea that we are saved by “believing” some certain doctrine, and that we don’t have to worry about what we do any more.

In the first chapter of James, he makes his thesis statement, what I think is the crucial point of his letter: That we must not just merely hear and believe the message of the Gospel, but that we must LIVE IT OUT. He gives us some examples, ones that he will elaborate on later – controlling our speech, and caring for the poor. James shows us that religion, faith and Gospel are nothing unless we let them seep into every area of our lives.

Letting the Gospel Seep In

I used “seep” intentionally – like water seeping into a boat. You’re all familiar with the story of the Titanic – the “unsinkable” boat that carried almost 2,000 people to the bottom of the North Atlantic in 1912. Well, the design that made boats like the Titanic “unsinkable” was a compartmentalized hull – a design that’s still in use in ships today. The idea is that the inside of a boat is blocked off into hundreds of compartments with watertight doors. If water starts coming in one area of the ship, you simply close all the doors around that area and keep the water in one place – the boat doesn’t sink, and you can get back to port to repair the damage.

I use this image with a reason – so often, we put “compartments” in our lives, areas that we won’t let the Gospel into. We’ll let it affect things in one certain area, but not in others. But Jesus doesn’t ask us to let the Gospel in a “little bit” – he says we have to let the WHOLE BOAT sink. We have to allow the Message to fill up our lives so that our old, human selves sink to the bottom and we are raised to new life in Christ.

And so much of James’ letter is working this idea out – in what areas do we show that we haven’t let the Gospel all the way in? In today’s passage, he addresses prejudice and the way we look at other people. He gives us a hypothetical situation: He describes a church meeting at which both a poor and rich person enter. If any preferential treatment is given to the rich man over the poor man, James says, then we are revealed to be showing favoritism – that is, that we look at people as being less equal than God does.

This hypothetical situation could be changed to any number of situations that fit us better. What if a successful, well-dressed white man walks in, and a Hispanic man in ratty, dirty clothes walks in? What if a straight-A, well-kempt high school student walked in and a dropout, drug-addict student walks in? We’ve talked about this before – each of us has an “other,” and I don’t think it would take long for us to figure out a situation in which we might show preference to one person over another.

Most of the commentators on this passage have pointed out that James is talking about taking care of the poor. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think James is making a point about a certain kind of person – he talks later about taking care of the poor. Instead, I think he is making a point about the Gospel – “if we REALLY believe the Gospel,” he begins in verse 1, “if you’re REALLY let it sink in, how can you show favoritism? Can you not see with God’s eyes that these ‘sinners’ are just as much ‘saints’ as you are?”

Change in Perspective

James is a very instructive book, but what most people miss when they look at James is that instruction is not all that James is about. Jesus, Paul, John, James, Peter – all of them understood that just giving simple instructions is not the way to affect change. I knew that at one time, I had a bad habit of leaving the water running when you brush your teeth, but it wasn’t enough for someone to say, “stop leaving the water running.” That didn’t do it.

What I needed was a change in perspective. I couldn’t see clearly because I’d never looked clearly. Any of you who have been to the optometrist know that it’s like for things to come into perspective. You sit in the little chair with that strange contraption in front of you. The doctor asks you to look through it, and begins to click lenses in front of your eyes. One by one, each lens comes and goes, then comes again. And at last, with a few clicks, everything comes into focus.

The idea about a perspective coming into focus is that it will change the way we do things. When I walked out of that doctor’s office with my new glasses – my new perspective – I might realize that the reason I’ve been tripping on my front sidewalk is that there’s a rock there. Now that I can see it clearly, I do something about it – I move the rock, or I step around the rock. It would be silly to keep tripping over it now that I see clearly.

It’s the same way with our lives. When I finally got to go to places where water was scarce, I began to take running the water more carefully. I was in the Philippines one summer, and the people in that poor area of Manila don’t have a central plumbing system. You pay to have a truck come fill up the big tank on the roof of your house. When you run out of water, you may have to wait for a few days. When I took a shower, I stood in the tub with a bucket and a ladle and poured water over myself. It made me much more careful when I came home about wasting water. No one had to tell me, “Hey, stop wasting water.” I had seen differently – I had to act.

So what James does here to help us understand how we treat people is to change our perspective. He points out that we are all alike in God’s eyes. And to show it, he points out a common denominator. But it’s not the common denominator I would have chosen to look at. I would have chosen to say, “Look how much God loves every one of us.” Or maybe, “Look how we are all human beings on the same struggle of life.”

No, the common denominator James points out is JUDGMENT.

The Common Denominator: Judgment

If we show partiality, James explains, then we are guilty of sin. And if any of us have committed any sin at all – no matter how great or small – each of us is equal in the fact that we are in need of God’s mercy. None of us, rich or poor, can stand before God’s judgment and lift our eyes to meet God’s – all of us have “sinned and fallen short.” The same God who said, “do not murder,” James says, is the same God who said, “do not steal, do not lie, do not covet.” If we have broken any of these commands, we are as guilty – as much a dirty sinner in God’s eyes – as the world’s worst murderer.

If these statements by James tend to make us a little uncomfortable, there’s a reason. It would be one thing if James was talking to a group of unsaved people able judgment. But here, James is speaking directly to Believers about how God will judge them – “So speak and so act as those who are to be judged by the law of liberty,” he says, “for judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy.” This are Christians we’re talking to, right?

Right. And one of the fundamental ideas that seems to run under all of James’ teaching is this – that as Christians, we are not excluded from the judgment of God. Can this be true? Can we really believe this? I thought judgment was just what God reserved for those people who didn’t accept him? Surely we’ll come before the Great Judge and he’ll call for the court clerk to look for our names in the Book of Life. Finding us there, he’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” and we’ll walk free.

But the teachings of Jesus and the teaching of James, and really the teaching of all the Scriptures never seem to say this. Christians, just like everyone else, are called upon to live lives of purity and rightness, because Christians – just like everyone else – will be judged for the things we have done or failed to do. Just like non-Christians, we’ll stand before God’s judgment seat and our whole life will be reviewed, our decisions and our intentions discovered. Just like non-Christians, our motives and actions will be clearly seen for what they are, and they will be judged.

The difference – and James and Paul both allude to this – is that our judgment may even be harsher because WE KNEW what we were supposed to do. We KNEW the commands that some others did not. We’ve been shown mercy and grace and forgiveness, so how much worse will it be for us when we fail to show that same mercy, grace and forgiveness to others?

The Great Sofa of Judgment

I’ve been reading books about this judgment lately, and what it will be like. We think that we’re going to get off scot-free, but as I just said, I think it will actually be WORSE for us. Now we all had different kinds of punishment growing up – from those whose parents didn’t believe in physical punishment at all, to the ones whose daddies made us go out and pick a limb off the tree to be whipped with!

But all of us know – when we did something wrong, there were some things we could stand, and some not. If any of you knew me in school, you’d be amazed to hear this – I got a paddling when I was in 3^rd grade. I’m still not entirely sure what all transpired, but I DO know that I was provoked by another little boy and I retaliated. Today, I still don’t think I deserved getting a paddling, but it was my word against his and the teacher wasn’t right there when it happened, so she just sent us both.

I remember two things very strongly from that day. I vaguely remember the wait outside the principal’s office. I really don’t remember anything at all that the principal said to us. I don’t even remember the paddling itself. But I DO remember what we had to do after we were paddled – we were made to stand in the hallway, obviously crying and upset, as other classes made their way down the hallway to the playground. I can still remember standing there and looking through my tears at that line of children going past. And I DO remember having to go home to my parents and explain everything to them again, and the very disappointed and hurt looks they had on their faces.

And I remember the way we always handled times when I’d done something I wasn’t supposed to do. We all sat down in the living room, my parents on one sofa, and me on the other across from them. Nothing in between, nowhere to hide. And I had to tell them what I’d done, and explain to them why it was wrong. To this day, I can’t remember a single spanking I got. But I remember those long, horrible silences staring at my feet while I slowly came to the realization that there was no talking my way out of this one.

That wasn’t punishment – that was a reckoning. And I can’t speak for you, but give me a switch or a paddle any day. I’ll take a good dose of corporal punishment in a heartbeat. But NOT the reckoning! Don’t sit me down and tell me that you’re disappointed in me. Don’t sit there with that hurt and disappointed look on your face. That is worse to me than anything else, because it makes me KNOW that my actions were wrong. It made me see that my mistake had consequences outside of just my own little world – my decision to fight back was a disappointment to my parents, who had taught me better than that. I KNEW better than to do what I did.

And this is how I am coming to imagine the judgment. It’s not the legal courtroom with the high and mighty judge glancing at me over the court briefs. It’s sitting on the sofa, across from Mom and Dad, who’re looking me in the eye and asking me, “Now what did you REALLY do?” It’s my eyes filling with tears as I realize that I DID know better than to do that. And it’s that hurt look in his eyes when they shows me – don’t even have to tell me – that they’re disappointed in me.

I know it’s less intimidating to call it “The Great Sofa of Judgment,” but for some reason that idea strikes more fear in me than any image of a courtroom. And this is what each and every one of us must face one day.

This is the perspective that we must continually train our eyes toward. If we look on the earthly perspective, we see that we are certainly better off than others, that we sin less openly than others. We may see some in rich clothing, with fine jewelry and garments (either literally or figuratively).

But when we put on God’s lenses for a moment, we see beyond the earthly perspective and into the eternal. Almost like x-ray glasses, we see that all of us are really the poor, miserable creatures who wander in need of grace and mercy. In the eternal perspective – the one that REALLY matters – all of us are on an equal playing field. There is no high ground or low ground. Each of us stands before a holy and righteous God who judges us – not just on his own standards, but on the standards that you and I know about ourselves. We know what we ought to do and we don’t do it. We know what we should not do, and yet we do it anyway. There is no high ground and low ground at the foot of God’s throne – we are all on level ground.

The Canaanite Woman’s Faith

The other lectionary passage this morning from Matthew’s Gospel is about how Jesus dealt with partiality and prejudice. Here, he teaches his disciples a powerful lesson about how they look at people. Jesus has left the comfortable areas of Galilee in favor of the northern Gentile territories. He is, in fact, in modern-day Lebanon when he encounters a woman who begs that Jesus would cast the demon out of her daughter.

She is the lowest of the low in the eyes of the Jew – she is a woman. She is a Gentile. And she comes begging for Jesus to do something. While the storyteller focuses on Jesus’ response, I think it’s more instructive for us to look at what the disciples did. “Make her go away, Jesus. She’s bothering us.”

That’s when Jesus does the unimaginable – both to us and to them. He knows his disciples are prejudiced against her, but instead of scolding them outright, he gives them a backdoor rebuke.

He begins by speaking to the woman in the way the disciples would have – tells her he hasn’t come for her. Calls her a “Gentile dog.” They were all used to this kind of rhetoric. This is how the Jews spoke of Gentiles all the time. You can almost see the disciples nudging each other and giggling at how he treats her.

Then she responds with faith and tenacity, and Jesus gives her the biggest compliment he could have given her – and the biggest insult he could have given his closest followers. “Woman, great is your faith.”

He’d never said that to his closest followers the disciples. The constantly heard, “Where is your faith?” and “Oh you of little faith!” But here, he tells the lowest of the low that she has “great faith.” It must have irked the disciples to no end! But it made the point – their prejudice had no place in the Kingdom of God. And to further make his point, he heals her daughter as well.

Concluding – Letting it Seep In

So James and Jesus have made our point this morning: if we understand this – if we have TRULY looked into God’s message and seen the truth – we must let it impact our actions. We must treat everyone as equal. That does not mean we rush to the poor man at the expense of the rich man. It doesn’t mean we run to the Hispanic man and leave the white guy wondering where we are.

It means we treat the both the poor and rich man, both the white and black and Asian and Hispanic – as all the same. All loved by God. All miserable creatures in need of mercy and forgiveness. All sons and daughters of God who will one day be called to reckon for the things we’ve done. We are called to treat them as if they were people just like us… as if they WERE us. “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

May God grant us the vision, the change in perspective, to see ourselves and others as we truly are. May God, through the Spirit, allow the Gospel to sink into every area of our lives and sink these old human habits – so that the pure, holy life of Jesus may shine through.

For instance, no matter how loudly and often we say we will not let the terrorists win, have we not let them win already? For instance, let your mind take you back to a plane flight you took before 9/11. In your mind, wander through the airport and notice what you see… or what you DON’T see. Fear, nervous people looking over their shoulders at someone with dark skin or wearing robes. So many security checks and measures that we actually utter a sigh of relief when we get strapped in and listen to the safety demonstration given by the flight attendants (who’d have every thought we’d be relieved to hear THAT?).

Where will it end? At each point in your imaginary wandering through the pre-9/11 airport, you can probably remember when and why they had to put those measures in place. Remember when they put in those huge TSA bag scanners? Remember when they started taking scissors, knives and nail clippers away? Remember when you had to start taking off your shoes? Remember when you had to dump all your makeup and water bottles in a big bin at the front of the security line?

I joke with people these days and say, “Before long, some terrorist will find a way to weave a bomb into his clothes, and we’ll all have to get on the plane naked.” But funny as that may seem, most of us only give a nervous little chuckle as we think, “You know, I wonder if that really COULD happen…”

We can’t defeat terrorism by trying to make sure we can filter out every kind of bomb they can make. There will always be a newer way, a way that will make us all shudder when we find out how close we came.

No, we can only defeat terror by not being afraid. All through the Bible, we see angels and other messengers of God saying, “be not afraid,” and we have to wonder whether there’s a message there for us, too. A fellow minister and mentor once taught me something I still have to remind myself to this day: “The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is fear.” Do we have enough faith to “be not afraid?”

Seems so easy to relegate the fight against terrorism to the folks behind the scanner at the airport, or the soldiers overseas. But the real fight, the one that matters, takes place in your soul and in mine.