Scripture Texts:
Revelation 1: 4-8
John 18:33-37
Today we celebrate the Reign of Christ the King. It is an important Sunday because it is the last Sunday of the year in the Christian calendar. Last Advent, when the Christian calendar began, the focus was on the hope and dream of a savior-king, born in a stable. So, today it makes sense that the culmination of the year should reflect the actuality of that hope and dream that began last Advent.
Christ, the one who was born in a stable, who provided a model for our lives to live in a way that brings light to the world, who through crucifixion and resurrection mysteriously conveyed God’s grace to us in a real and tangible way—this same Christ is the true king of the universe—this same dusty young carpenter and dynamic and controversial preacher is one and the same as the very center of the Universe, the Ground of all Being, the Alpha and the Omega.
What does this mean for us today? How does this change our lives as they are experienced at the end of 2006 in Morris, Oklahoma? Who or why should we care if Jesus Christ assumes the role of a king—what does it mean for Christ to reign in heaven?
Mary Anderson writes on this topic in a Christian Century article, “I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.”
The early church knew much persecution and difficulties in daily life. For them, the statement that “Jesus Christ is Lord” was a political statement—it carried the possible penalty of execution. In this day and age, in this country, I can walk down the street saying “Jesus Christ is Lord,” all I want with no repercussion. I can spout out that Jesus Christ is Lord till I am blue in the face and probably not even cause a stir.
I can say it at Wal-Mart, I can say it at the gas station, I can say it on the steps of the couthouse in Okmulgee, I can mention it to the postal workers at the post office, and contrary to what some of the folks on the radio tell you, I can go to the public school and say it all that I want to. These days, I can say it as much as I want—but does it carry the same meaning and message that it did when those Christians used to utter it in the Roman Empire? How does this truth make us “a people?”
This understanding of Christ is laden with political meaning for the first practitioners of Christianity. To say “Jesus Christ is Lord” was to make a declaration of independence from the Empire that knew only one Lord, the Caesar. It was a statement of bravery and rebelliousness that one living in a democratic society such as my own cannot fully comprehend. Our system of government allows me to make the statement that “Christ is Lord” without any fear of arrest, torture, or execution. So to some extent, my affirmation that “Christ is Lord” does not have the same potency as the same words uttered by early martyrs of the Church. However, I understand the words “Christ is Lord” to still carry political and economic meaning.
When I say these words, I commit myself to Christ over and beyond my commitments to any particular form of government, dogma, or other “power or principality.” As the early Christians committed themselves to Christ as Lord and thus turned their attention to alleviating the woes of the powerless and dispossessed people of the Empire, I see the direction of Christ pointing me toward the same ends.
The Lordship of Christ reigns in a Kingdom where the world has been turned upside down, and the powers and principalities that dominate the earth with callous disregard for compassion have been shaken out. Christ directs his disciples to carry out the healing and preaching that will facilitate the unveiling of this reality “in our midst.”
I associate the term “Lord” with the spirit of God who liberated the Israelites from enslavement in Egypt. I also celebrate Paul’s correlation between the Lord and freedom in 2nd Corinthians 3:17, which states, “The Lord is the Spirit; but where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
Instead of affirming a Lord who rules my life in a coercive manner, I celebrate Jesus Christ as the Lord who gives freedom. When I state that Jesus Christ is Lord, I am giving my loyalty to the Risen Christ. I am committing myself to be the best disciple I can be. This is the freedom that the Lordship of Christ inspires. Christ leads by example.
I call Christ Lord because Christ goes first where he wants me to go. As I follow the Lord, Christ’s leadership becomes more and more clear to my eyes. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”
Our scripture today from John shows us an instance of Pilate looking in the mirror and not being able to make out much of anything at all. Here Pilate is interrogating Jesus and is trying to determine whether this figure before him is a threat to his rule or not. The talk on the streets is that he is. They are proclaiming him the King of the Jews, the Son of David—and Pilate is familiar enough with his assigned territory to know what that means.
The people evidently think this is a candidate for insurrection. They want to see Jesus do the same things that David did, namely rout their enemies out of Palestine and regain power for themselves. This was something that could not happen if the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, was to be preserved. Interestingly, in Pilate’s interrogation of Jesus, he becomes the one who becomes interrogated. Jesus masters him and turns his questions on their head. He invites Pilate to know him theologically, not simply politically. Pilate can’t get beyond the politics though, and ironically answers his own question “I am not a Jew, am I?” with a positive. You see, John used the word, “Jews,” not so much ethnically but instead to label those who did not hear and believe the truth of Jesus.
Pilate asks Jesus, “So you are a king?” Jesus replies, “You say that I am a king, for this I was born, and for this I came into the world: to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Then Pilate asks the question, “What is truth?” What an interchange! One king asking the true king, “what is truth?” We want to know too. John uses the word truth in 21 verses in his Gospel, and evidently the concept is important to him. Jesus is the king of Truth, he is the truth, and we want Jesus to be a little more descriptive about his kingdom.
Jesus speaks about Truth as though it can possess us. He has come into the world to testify to the Truth. The truth possesses him, for sure, and another thing, if we belong to the Truth, we listen to his voice. So what does it mean for us today that Christ is King? It means that Christ invites us to be owned by the Truth. And what is that truth?
That truth is that the Kingdom is here in our midst, as Jesus says in Luke 17:20. It is a Kingdom that we open our eyes to—it is a kingdom where we open our eyes to one another and see brothers and sisters. It is a kingdom in which we look at the homeless, the orphan, the prisoner, the AIDS patient, and we see royalty. What would you do if the President or some Hollywood celebrity walked into this church right now? We’d probably all fall over ourselves with respect. I’d stutter and sputter and try to find some way to present our little fellowship here in a dignified manner. We’d be star-struck.
Christ is the King of the kingdom in which all of these people are more than celebrities or dignitaries, they are Children of God. What is truth?, Pilate asks, “The truth,” says Jesus, “shall set you free!” Living in this awareness does indeed set us free. It sets us free to be loved by God despite ourselves. The truth is grace. God’s grace is the truth that is the secret of the universe. It is like a pearl of great price, it is like a lost coin found and celebrated. Grace gives us the eyes to see our fellow brothers and sisters through the light of love. Grace gives us the eyes to see God’s presence in all of creation. Grace gives us the freedom to look at ourselves in the mirror and know that God loves us as we are.
Christ is King, indeed. Christ is the King who sets us free by giving us the truth—the truth that God loves us unconditionally. This unconditional kingdom is not just a time in the future when Christ comes in victory to usher in this understanding all over the world, it is a condition of the heart in the present. Christ can reign RIGHT NOW in our hearts if we open our hearts to the grace of God and put that grace into action in our lives and in our encounters with others. Christ says, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, who was and is and is to come.” Christ’s reign is not constrained by time, it is outside of time. It comes to us whenever we love one another, as Christ commanded us in the Gospel.
Can you imagine? John’s account of the interaction between Pilate and Jesus ends in a question. Jesus does not give an answer to Pilate’s question “what is truth?” But if he had, we can imagine what his answer might have been based on our reading of the rest of the Gospel. Jesus might have said, “My son, the truth is that God loves you and accepts you despite what you will do to me. This truth should be powerful enough for you to change your life—for you to walk in a way that leads to the light and glory of God.” Jesus had said earlier in John, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” The answer to Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” was sitting right in front of him.
Jesus might have used the words from the Revelation to John, “every eye will see me, even those who pieced me, and on account of me, all of the tribes of the earth will wail.” The truth is that the love that shines from God through the life and death of who in Pilate’s eyes was an ordinary peasant insurrectionist is a love that is intended for everyone. “To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, 6and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen”
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Christ the King Sunday article
Royal treatment - Living by the Word - Column, Mary Anderson
ANOTHER CHURCH YEAR ends on November 23 with the festival of Christ the King. Although a few folks get jazzed over this festival, most of us need to be reminded that the church year is different from the calendar year, the academic year and the budget year.
On most minor and major church festivals, I remind my congregation how ancient these festivals are. I like to wow them with the vast number of centuries the church has been observing some of them. The festival of Christ the King spoils that plan. It was first introduced in 1925, and not until 1969 was it designated the festival for the last Sunday of the church year. Since I cannot wow them with a millennium's worth of tradition, I emphasize how the church continues to create traditions and make liturgical history.
It is odd to think that the 20th-century church developed a festival centering on Christ's image as king. In America we are as distanced from the image of "king" as we are from the image of "shepherd." Popular theology is more intrigued with the image of Jesus as CEO--a leadership role, to be sure, but hardly comparable to that of a king with a kingdom.
Advertisement
');
}
// -->
Our American brush with royalty comes mostly from Britain. We might not be able to name any kings, but we are familiar with Queen Elizabeth and with the tabloids and tragedies surrounding her family. We would easily recognize the queen, yet many of us are unaware of what she really does from day to day and what her powers really are. Royalty is respected, it's part of the tradition, hut does it really do anything? Do we need it?
I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.
Growing up in the South, I often heard the home folks ask of a sows girlfriend, "Who are her people?" They were fishing for two things: a family name and a location. "She's one of the Wingards from over Lexington way." Tiffs information could make one be embraced or shunned. I never heard "people" used outside of Family until I moved out of the overwhelmingly Christian South and lived in Chicago. Here "my people" was used for distinct ethnic groups and religious groups. And it was an unspoken truth that if any significant rubber ever hit any significant road, it was your people that mattered. A "people" was not a biological unit. They didn't necessarily share DNA but perhaps things more bonding: a common story, the foods and meals they are together, the experiences they endured and the hopes that endure through generations. I envied their sense of solidarity and identity. It's good to have a people.
Those who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Christ has made of us a people with his kingship. And that kingship is unique, unlike any earthly kingship that is bound by geographic borders. This kingdom is boundless. Christ's rule is not limited to a particular racial or national group. All are welcome, especially the chronically unwelcome ones. Christ reigns from the cross, we say. Christ rules, as many earthly rulers do, because he has waged battle and has been victorious. But Christ's enemies are sin, death and the devil, all defeated by Christ's death. In a kingdom of a lowly stable and an empty tomb, death birthed life.
To speak of kings and kingdoms, of subjects and peoples, requires a fair amount of translation for modern ears. Some, finding the translation too cumbersome, will opt for calling Jesus their CEO or therapist. But what will then be truly lost is not the title used, but the relationship implied.
To say Christ is king implies that we are subjects. The heart of this relationship is our dependence on a ruler who holds our lives in his hands. We do not choose a ruler as we elect a president, hire a CEO or contract with a therapist. We are Christ's people--we share the same eucharistic foods, we share the same story of faith, we stake our lives on the same hopes.
Here at the end of the church year, after living through another cycle of hearing the story of Jesus' life, of being taught by him in miracle and parable, we come to the coda of this hymn of praise. After another year of living our lives, burying our dead, baptizing our babies, marrying and divorcing, struggling and thriving, we bring all of the year's experiences to the climax of this day. We lay it all back at the feet of the one enthroned on the cross, giving thanks. It's great to be a people ruled in love and mercy.
ANOTHER CHURCH YEAR ends on November 23 with the festival of Christ the King. Although a few folks get jazzed over this festival, most of us need to be reminded that the church year is different from the calendar year, the academic year and the budget year.
On most minor and major church festivals, I remind my congregation how ancient these festivals are. I like to wow them with the vast number of centuries the church has been observing some of them. The festival of Christ the King spoils that plan. It was first introduced in 1925, and not until 1969 was it designated the festival for the last Sunday of the church year. Since I cannot wow them with a millennium's worth of tradition, I emphasize how the church continues to create traditions and make liturgical history.
It is odd to think that the 20th-century church developed a festival centering on Christ's image as king. In America we are as distanced from the image of "king" as we are from the image of "shepherd." Popular theology is more intrigued with the image of Jesus as CEO--a leadership role, to be sure, but hardly comparable to that of a king with a kingdom.
Advertisement
');
}
// -->
Our American brush with royalty comes mostly from Britain. We might not be able to name any kings, but we are familiar with Queen Elizabeth and with the tabloids and tragedies surrounding her family. We would easily recognize the queen, yet many of us are unaware of what she really does from day to day and what her powers really are. Royalty is respected, it's part of the tradition, hut does it really do anything? Do we need it?
I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.
Growing up in the South, I often heard the home folks ask of a sows girlfriend, "Who are her people?" They were fishing for two things: a family name and a location. "She's one of the Wingards from over Lexington way." Tiffs information could make one be embraced or shunned. I never heard "people" used outside of Family until I moved out of the overwhelmingly Christian South and lived in Chicago. Here "my people" was used for distinct ethnic groups and religious groups. And it was an unspoken truth that if any significant rubber ever hit any significant road, it was your people that mattered. A "people" was not a biological unit. They didn't necessarily share DNA but perhaps things more bonding: a common story, the foods and meals they are together, the experiences they endured and the hopes that endure through generations. I envied their sense of solidarity and identity. It's good to have a people.
Those who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Christ has made of us a people with his kingship. And that kingship is unique, unlike any earthly kingship that is bound by geographic borders. This kingdom is boundless. Christ's rule is not limited to a particular racial or national group. All are welcome, especially the chronically unwelcome ones. Christ reigns from the cross, we say. Christ rules, as many earthly rulers do, because he has waged battle and has been victorious. But Christ's enemies are sin, death and the devil, all defeated by Christ's death. In a kingdom of a lowly stable and an empty tomb, death birthed life.
To speak of kings and kingdoms, of subjects and peoples, requires a fair amount of translation for modern ears. Some, finding the translation too cumbersome, will opt for calling Jesus their CEO or therapist. But what will then be truly lost is not the title used, but the relationship implied.
To say Christ is king implies that we are subjects. The heart of this relationship is our dependence on a ruler who holds our lives in his hands. We do not choose a ruler as we elect a president, hire a CEO or contract with a therapist. We are Christ's people--we share the same eucharistic foods, we share the same story of faith, we stake our lives on the same hopes.
Here at the end of the church year, after living through another cycle of hearing the story of Jesus' life, of being taught by him in miracle and parable, we come to the coda of this hymn of praise. After another year of living our lives, burying our dead, baptizing our babies, marrying and divorcing, struggling and thriving, we bring all of the year's experiences to the climax of this day. We lay it all back at the feet of the one enthroned on the cross, giving thanks. It's great to be a people ruled in love and mercy.
Christ the King article
Here's a great article to read in preparation for this Sunday's sermon--Christ the King Sunday
Royal treatment - Living by the Word - Column
Christian Century, Nov 15, 2003 by Mary W. Anderson
ANOTHER CHURCH YEAR ends on November 23 with the festival of Christ the King. Although a few folks get jazzed over this festival, most of us need to be reminded that the church year is different from the calendar year, the academic year and the budget year.
On most minor and major church festivals, I remind my congregation how ancient these festivals are. I like to wow them with the vast number of centuries the church has been observing some of them. The festival of Christ the King spoils that plan. It was first introduced in 1925, and not until 1969 was it designated the festival for the last Sunday of the church year. Since I cannot wow them with a millennium's worth of tradition, I emphasize how the church continues to create traditions and make liturgical history.
It is odd to think that the 20th-century church developed a festival centering on Christ's image as king. In America we are as distanced from the image of "king" as we are from the image of "shepherd." Popular theology is more intrigued with the image of Jesus as CEO--a leadership role, to be sure, but hardly comparable to that of a king with a kingdom.
Our American brush with royalty comes mostly from Britain. We might not be able to name any kings, but we are familiar with Queen Elizabeth and with the tabloids and tragedies surrounding her family. We would easily recognize the queen, yet many of us are unaware of what she really does from day to day and what her powers really are. Royalty is respected, it's part of the tradition, hut does it really do anything? Do we need it?
I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.
Growing up in the South, I often heard the home folks ask of a sows girlfriend, "Who are her people?" They were fishing for two things: a family name and a location. "She's one of the Wingards from over Lexington way." Tiffs information could make one be embraced or shunned. I never heard "people" used outside of Family until I moved out of the overwhelmingly Christian South and lived in Chicago. Here "my people" was used for distinct ethnic groups and religious groups. And it was an unspoken truth that if any significant rubber ever hit any significant road, it was your people that mattered. A "people" was not a biological unit. They didn't necessarily share DNA but perhaps things more bonding: a common story, the foods and meals they are together, the experiences they endured and the hopes that endure through generations. I envied their sense of solidarity and identity. It's good to have a people.
Those who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Christ has made of us a people with his kingship. And that kingship is unique, unlike any earthly kingship that is bound by geographic borders. This kingdom is boundless. Christ's rule is not limited to a particular racial or national group. All are welcome, especially the chronically unwelcome ones. Christ reigns from the cross, we say. Christ rules, as many earthly rulers do, because he has waged battle and has been victorious. But Christ's enemies are sin, death and the devil, all defeated by Christ's death. In a kingdom of a lowly stable and an empty tomb, death birthed life.
To speak of kings and kingdoms, of subjects and peoples, requires a fair amount of translation for modern ears. Some, finding the translation too cumbersome, will opt for calling Jesus their CEO or therapist. But what will then be truly lost is not the title used, but the relationship implied.
To say Christ is king implies that we are subjects. The heart of this relationship is our dependence on a ruler who holds our lives in his hands. We do not choose a ruler as we elect a president, hire a CEO or contract with a therapist. We are Christ's people--we share the same eucharistic foods, we share the same story of faith, we stake our lives on the same hopes.
Here at the end of the church year, after living through another cycle of hearing the story of Jesus' life, of being taught by him in miracle and parable, we come to the coda of this hymn of praise. After another year of living our lives, burying our dead, baptizing our babies, marrying and divorcing, struggling and thriving, we bring all of the year's experiences to the climax of this day. We lay it all back at the feet of the one enthroned on the cross, giving thanks. It's great to be a people ruled in love and mercy.
Royal treatment - Living by the Word - Column
Christian Century, Nov 15, 2003 by Mary W. Anderson
ANOTHER CHURCH YEAR ends on November 23 with the festival of Christ the King. Although a few folks get jazzed over this festival, most of us need to be reminded that the church year is different from the calendar year, the academic year and the budget year.
On most minor and major church festivals, I remind my congregation how ancient these festivals are. I like to wow them with the vast number of centuries the church has been observing some of them. The festival of Christ the King spoils that plan. It was first introduced in 1925, and not until 1969 was it designated the festival for the last Sunday of the church year. Since I cannot wow them with a millennium's worth of tradition, I emphasize how the church continues to create traditions and make liturgical history.
It is odd to think that the 20th-century church developed a festival centering on Christ's image as king. In America we are as distanced from the image of "king" as we are from the image of "shepherd." Popular theology is more intrigued with the image of Jesus as CEO--a leadership role, to be sure, but hardly comparable to that of a king with a kingdom.
Our American brush with royalty comes mostly from Britain. We might not be able to name any kings, but we are familiar with Queen Elizabeth and with the tabloids and tragedies surrounding her family. We would easily recognize the queen, yet many of us are unaware of what she really does from day to day and what her powers really are. Royalty is respected, it's part of the tradition, hut does it really do anything? Do we need it?
I wonder and worry that people perceive Christ's rule to be similar to the queen of England's rule. Do we view Christ as one surrounded with the art and beauty of a tradition that is more antique than active? Do we see this figure of salvation as hopelessly outdated and practically mute in these postmodern times?
If we stretch ourselves to think in royal terms, we remember that although "king" may be an unfamiliar symbol, it is a political term. Kings rule a particular piece of geography. They may rule over a particular ethnic group. They have subjects--they have "a people." What we declare on this last Sunday of the church year is: Christ has made of us a people.
Growing up in the South, I often heard the home folks ask of a sows girlfriend, "Who are her people?" They were fishing for two things: a family name and a location. "She's one of the Wingards from over Lexington way." Tiffs information could make one be embraced or shunned. I never heard "people" used outside of Family until I moved out of the overwhelmingly Christian South and lived in Chicago. Here "my people" was used for distinct ethnic groups and religious groups. And it was an unspoken truth that if any significant rubber ever hit any significant road, it was your people that mattered. A "people" was not a biological unit. They didn't necessarily share DNA but perhaps things more bonding: a common story, the foods and meals they are together, the experiences they endured and the hopes that endure through generations. I envied their sense of solidarity and identity. It's good to have a people.
Those who have been baptized into Christ Jesus are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Christ has made of us a people with his kingship. And that kingship is unique, unlike any earthly kingship that is bound by geographic borders. This kingdom is boundless. Christ's rule is not limited to a particular racial or national group. All are welcome, especially the chronically unwelcome ones. Christ reigns from the cross, we say. Christ rules, as many earthly rulers do, because he has waged battle and has been victorious. But Christ's enemies are sin, death and the devil, all defeated by Christ's death. In a kingdom of a lowly stable and an empty tomb, death birthed life.
To speak of kings and kingdoms, of subjects and peoples, requires a fair amount of translation for modern ears. Some, finding the translation too cumbersome, will opt for calling Jesus their CEO or therapist. But what will then be truly lost is not the title used, but the relationship implied.
To say Christ is king implies that we are subjects. The heart of this relationship is our dependence on a ruler who holds our lives in his hands. We do not choose a ruler as we elect a president, hire a CEO or contract with a therapist. We are Christ's people--we share the same eucharistic foods, we share the same story of faith, we stake our lives on the same hopes.
Here at the end of the church year, after living through another cycle of hearing the story of Jesus' life, of being taught by him in miracle and parable, we come to the coda of this hymn of praise. After another year of living our lives, burying our dead, baptizing our babies, marrying and divorcing, struggling and thriving, we bring all of the year's experiences to the climax of this day. We lay it all back at the feet of the one enthroned on the cross, giving thanks. It's great to be a people ruled in love and mercy.
Christmas Open House at the Parsonage
save the date! From 2-4pm on Saturday Dec. 9, Lara and Wesley and Nathan will host a Christmas party for the parish and friends. Drop by any time in that two hour span to have some cider, other goodies, and to see how we have made your pasronage our home for the holidays!
Monday, November 20, 2006
Thanksgiving Sermon: "Thanksliving"
Scriptures:
Deuteronomy 8: 7-18
2 Corinthians: 9: 6-15
What does it mean to live our thankfulness? The passage we heard from the book of Deuteronomy is the witness to a God who delights in our delight. When we receive the gifts of God with a joyful and thankful heart, God is propelled forward with us—charged up by our gratitude. When we fail to live with thanks and joyfulness in our hearts, when we instead turn inward and live in complaints or dissatisfaction, God’s activity is veiled from our eyes. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says “to those who have much, much more will be given. And to those who have nothing, what they have will be taken away and given to those who have much.” This is not about material possessions, it is about living with joy and thankfulness in our hearts. When we share our thanksgiving with others, it has a way of multiplying and spreading. When we do nothing but complain and act callous with one another, we isolate ourselves and descend into “the outer darkness” of despair and lonliness. Deuteronomy tells us of the end of the journey of Israel out of exile and into the promised land. At the end of the 40 years of wandering, they come to the cusp of a new era in their collective history. These people who have been on such a journey together have known God’s provision during the time they were in the desert, they have known God’s salvation from slavery. Now God asks them to be thankful in the bounty they are about to receive. Likewise, we are at the end of a journey together. This is the second to last Sunday of the Christian year. We stand at the cusp of Advent, waiting for the bounty which God will reveal in the Birth of Christ. This is a time to pause and lift up our thanks to God.Though God leads us toward abundance and a bountiful life, the good life can cause us to forget about God and start thinking that we provide for ourselves. We have seen in the industrialized world a dramatic exodus from the Church. In parts of the world where there is much trouble and strife, the church is strong. God promises Israel a land flowing with milk and honey, but God knows that the ingredients are there for amnesia. One reason the Jews celebrate Passover every year is to prevent that amnesia. Keeping God’s commandments prevents us from forgetting about God. By living thanks, we pattern our minds and hearts to dwell in the grace of God. If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life. When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift. As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more. If we don’t feel a warm sense of gratitude when we give, we are probably too attached to our things and maybe we have the idea that we deserve what we have. Paul says, “Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” Thanksgiving is about Thanks and it is about Giving. Sharing our thanks together is an “overflowing of Thanksgiving to God.” ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively. Politicians play on this human condition and build a following by talking about the negative attributes of the other candidate rather than the positive attributes of themselves. Despite what pollsters have said is a general public disdain for “mudslinging” or “attack ads,” politicians continue to utilize this form of campaigning because they know it works. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude? This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for, yet it is sometimes easier to think about our prayers of need or struggles than our prayers of thanksgiving. Let me be the first to share with you some things I praise God for.I’m thankful for…….My wife Lara being a supportive and challenging partner in marriage. My son Wesley living with such delight and wonder at the world—it helps me live with delight and wonder. My sister being a bold person who is seeking a career which she will be passionate about. I’m thankful for my parents inspiring me to follow my heart. For watching football games with my son. I’m thankful for green hills turning red and gold and orange and yellow. For barbecuing on my front porch. For the faithful witness of a great co-worker. For a community of believers who have been receptive to things I say in this pulpit that stir my heart—what a blessing it is to hear that something you have said has made a difference to someone else! Take a moment and write some things you’re thankful for. Try to be specific about it. Instead of just saying, “I’m thankful for my wife.” Write on that card what it is that makes you so thankful for your wife. Is it her cooking? What is it about her cooking? Do you like the way she puts more chocolate chips in cookies than the recipe calls for? Well write that! Don’t just write, “I’m thankful for deer hunting season,” what is it about deer hunting season that you love? Spending time with family in the woods? Being away from church on Sundays? Write that! Try to be as particular as you can.Now, because we are a body, because we are a congregation who can be strengthened by shared joys, I want you to find someone here in the congregation you’d like to give that card to. Thanksgiving is a sharing. We as a community of believers have to get real with each other and share our gratitude with one another. This is “living” thanks. We share our praise and thanksgiving together as a body of believers. Because the Living Christ is here among us when we gather together, our shared thanks in that Living Christ elevates our thanksgiving to God’s holy throne. Share with someone you may have known for less than 5 years. Share with someone you may have had a disagreement with in the past. It is sharing our thanks together which unites us, so let’s strengthen that “blessed tie that binds.” Take the next couple minutes to stand up and find someone to share your list with. Don’t take a list from more than one person, I want everyone here to have a list from someone else. As you sit around the Thanksgiving table this week with your friends and family, I hope that you might take a moment to really be stop and consider what we are doing. We’re not just stuffing ourselves silly with turkey and scalloped potatoes and green bean casserole. We’re not just napping on the couch while NFL teams clash in throwback uniforms. We are carrying on a great tradition. Gathering around the table of fellowship with our family is a true act of worship. God opens to us the treasure of gratitude. By giving thanks, by living thanks, we glorify God and we enhance our own existence. We can either toot our own horn by going through life without a grateful heart, or we can listen to the symphony of thanksgiving. God does not just demand thankfulness because God has a fragile ego. God invites us into a dance by setting a pattern of gratitude.
Deuteronomy 8: 7-18
2 Corinthians: 9: 6-15
What does it mean to live our thankfulness? The passage we heard from the book of Deuteronomy is the witness to a God who delights in our delight. When we receive the gifts of God with a joyful and thankful heart, God is propelled forward with us—charged up by our gratitude. When we fail to live with thanks and joyfulness in our hearts, when we instead turn inward and live in complaints or dissatisfaction, God’s activity is veiled from our eyes. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says “to those who have much, much more will be given. And to those who have nothing, what they have will be taken away and given to those who have much.” This is not about material possessions, it is about living with joy and thankfulness in our hearts. When we share our thanksgiving with others, it has a way of multiplying and spreading. When we do nothing but complain and act callous with one another, we isolate ourselves and descend into “the outer darkness” of despair and lonliness. Deuteronomy tells us of the end of the journey of Israel out of exile and into the promised land. At the end of the 40 years of wandering, they come to the cusp of a new era in their collective history. These people who have been on such a journey together have known God’s provision during the time they were in the desert, they have known God’s salvation from slavery. Now God asks them to be thankful in the bounty they are about to receive. Likewise, we are at the end of a journey together. This is the second to last Sunday of the Christian year. We stand at the cusp of Advent, waiting for the bounty which God will reveal in the Birth of Christ. This is a time to pause and lift up our thanks to God.Though God leads us toward abundance and a bountiful life, the good life can cause us to forget about God and start thinking that we provide for ourselves. We have seen in the industrialized world a dramatic exodus from the Church. In parts of the world where there is much trouble and strife, the church is strong. God promises Israel a land flowing with milk and honey, but God knows that the ingredients are there for amnesia. One reason the Jews celebrate Passover every year is to prevent that amnesia. Keeping God’s commandments prevents us from forgetting about God. By living thanks, we pattern our minds and hearts to dwell in the grace of God. If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life. When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift. As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more. If we don’t feel a warm sense of gratitude when we give, we are probably too attached to our things and maybe we have the idea that we deserve what we have. Paul says, “Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” Thanksgiving is about Thanks and it is about Giving. Sharing our thanks together is an “overflowing of Thanksgiving to God.” ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively. Politicians play on this human condition and build a following by talking about the negative attributes of the other candidate rather than the positive attributes of themselves. Despite what pollsters have said is a general public disdain for “mudslinging” or “attack ads,” politicians continue to utilize this form of campaigning because they know it works. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude? This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for, yet it is sometimes easier to think about our prayers of need or struggles than our prayers of thanksgiving. Let me be the first to share with you some things I praise God for.I’m thankful for…….My wife Lara being a supportive and challenging partner in marriage. My son Wesley living with such delight and wonder at the world—it helps me live with delight and wonder. My sister being a bold person who is seeking a career which she will be passionate about. I’m thankful for my parents inspiring me to follow my heart. For watching football games with my son. I’m thankful for green hills turning red and gold and orange and yellow. For barbecuing on my front porch. For the faithful witness of a great co-worker. For a community of believers who have been receptive to things I say in this pulpit that stir my heart—what a blessing it is to hear that something you have said has made a difference to someone else! Take a moment and write some things you’re thankful for. Try to be specific about it. Instead of just saying, “I’m thankful for my wife.” Write on that card what it is that makes you so thankful for your wife. Is it her cooking? What is it about her cooking? Do you like the way she puts more chocolate chips in cookies than the recipe calls for? Well write that! Don’t just write, “I’m thankful for deer hunting season,” what is it about deer hunting season that you love? Spending time with family in the woods? Being away from church on Sundays? Write that! Try to be as particular as you can.Now, because we are a body, because we are a congregation who can be strengthened by shared joys, I want you to find someone here in the congregation you’d like to give that card to. Thanksgiving is a sharing. We as a community of believers have to get real with each other and share our gratitude with one another. This is “living” thanks. We share our praise and thanksgiving together as a body of believers. Because the Living Christ is here among us when we gather together, our shared thanks in that Living Christ elevates our thanksgiving to God’s holy throne. Share with someone you may have known for less than 5 years. Share with someone you may have had a disagreement with in the past. It is sharing our thanks together which unites us, so let’s strengthen that “blessed tie that binds.” Take the next couple minutes to stand up and find someone to share your list with. Don’t take a list from more than one person, I want everyone here to have a list from someone else. As you sit around the Thanksgiving table this week with your friends and family, I hope that you might take a moment to really be stop and consider what we are doing. We’re not just stuffing ourselves silly with turkey and scalloped potatoes and green bean casserole. We’re not just napping on the couch while NFL teams clash in throwback uniforms. We are carrying on a great tradition. Gathering around the table of fellowship with our family is a true act of worship. God opens to us the treasure of gratitude. By giving thanks, by living thanks, we glorify God and we enhance our own existence. We can either toot our own horn by going through life without a grateful heart, or we can listen to the symphony of thanksgiving. God does not just demand thankfulness because God has a fragile ego. God invites us into a dance by setting a pattern of gratitude.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Nov. 12 Sermon--Two Pennies
Scriptures:
1 Kings 17: 8-16
Mark 12: 38-44
For some reason, this scripture reminds me of the time when I was in high school Sunday school class in Arkadelphia, when my teacher, Rex Holbrook, opened up his wallet and distributed all he had among each of us youth. I remember looking around the table in wide eyed disbelief as we at first were dumbfounded, then trying to protest. “No, no, you can’t do that!” Rex, I think I remember, had been teaching us about the parable of the talents—when the landowner distributed his wealth among the workers and promised to return. What I remember taking away from that lesson was that all that we are given is a gift, and we have the honor and privilege to share those gifts with others.
I Googled Rex to find out how he was doing. In my Google results, I came across a newsletter that said that his dad had recently passed away in August. He was still living in Arkadelphia, so I found his number and decided to give him a call. I hadn’t talked to him in 10 or more years!
I told him that the lesson he had taught that day had made a deep imprint on me, and that I would be sharing it in a sermon this week. He was delighted to hear from me and remarked that he had just been thinking the other day that most of us (his students) were now the age that he had been when he taught that class.
So why did this scripture remind me of that particular Sunday school lesson more than 10 years ago? I suppose it did because I remember the look in Rex’s eye when he handed me and every other student in that class of 7 or 10 youth a $20 bill. It was a look of complete trust and hope. It was unsettling—especially to a teenager! I imagine it was the same look in the eyes of the widows whom we heard about in today’s scriptures.
The widow that gives hospitality to Elijah and the widow whom Jesus observes giving money to the temple are linked across the centuries—both give what little they have and are blessed by prophets—both also are connected from across the millennia to us today.
Widows in the times of Elijah later in Jesus’ time had a difficult situation—they were reliant upon male children or brothers or other family members for their provision. This is why the widow who feeds Elijah was justifiably concerned that her hospitality of Elijah not interfere with her provision for her son. That son was the key to the survival of the whole family. Some Biblical scholars have reckoned that the reason Jesus says the scribes “devoured widows homes” was because there were social customs in which the scribes were charged with providing for the widows, or held a widow’s belongings in trust if there were no other males to look after finances. In any case, it is safe to say that widows had nothing, especially in comparison to the rich who gave large donations to the temple treasury. The priests and scribes used the temple treasury to provide for a lavish lifestyle, while the widows suffered.
The end result is that the temple authorities came to surround themselves in comfort and distractions and the widow who gave everything was completely vulnerable. It wasn’t as though the two pittance made the difference to the woman between poverty and sustenance though, there was essentially no difference between the widow keeping the two pennies and putting them in the treasury. The difference was in the posture of giving versus the posture of hoarding.
You see, Jesus’ lesson is that in the act of giving, the widow puts her complete trust in God’s mercy and grace. Really, it makes no difference if it is 2 pennies or 2 million pennies—all will eventually disintegrate into dust—our souls on the other hand, will be gathered in the treasury of heaven or the treasury of hell! Our spiritual selves are affected by giving—when we turn things over to the will and purpose of God, we place ourselves in the complete trust of God. If we grasp, hold on to, become preoccupied with money or anything other than God—we will sink.
Picture a great sailboat loaded down with treasure—when the boat needs to get somewhere quick and there is not much of a breeze, what does the captain shout? Lighten the load! Treasure overboard! It is then that the wind is able to pull the ship along where the captain wants to go. Belongings weigh us down, they create concerns. This is why Jesus says, “do not be concerned with what you will wear, or what you will eat.” Consider the ravens—they neither toil nor reap, but are fed by their father in Heaven. Consider the lilies; they neither spin nor clothe themselves, yet even Solomon in all his splendor could not match the beauty of one of them.
This is a difficult lesson for us to hear! It is hard for us to give up our belongings—they are comfortable, they bring us security and safety. Perhaps one way to reorient ourselves and our lives is to cultivate a different attitude toward our belongings.
What I hear most often from those who have lost their homes in a fire is that they find out that all they really cared about were the photo albums. What does that tell us?! It says to me that even though we spend so much time and stress and effort worrying about money and possessions, deep down in our heart of hearts what we are really concerned about is relationship! Lord, give us a sense of these priorities in our daily lives! God, our Father and our friend, help us value our relationship with you as much as you value it!
Mary Anderson, a pastor in Columbia, SC wrote in an article in Christian Century, “The widow wasn't dependent on her money or her status in life; she had none of these. She was dependent on God and her neighbor for everything. She didn't have two feet to stand on, she didn't have bootstraps to pull up. She was totally dependent—and that's what Jesus pulls out of her story like a pearl of great price. This is what we are to be like before God—dependent on nothing but the grace of God. We are to be people without any resources except the riches of God's mercy.
The issue is not how much we have in the bank, but what that money is for us. Is it our heart, our security, our source of power, or is it a tool for our stewardship? Are we dependent on our money to give us all we want and need from life, or are we dependent on God to make us rich? If you follow me, Jesus teaches, you will walk in the way of the widow. Live lives that show in everything you do and say that you are dependent on God for all you have and all you are.”
This relationship with God is the model that Jesus set before us with his life. It is the radical trust, hope, and attention on God’s presence that make up a life well lived. When our lives are crowded with things—distractions that tend to displace our relationship with God to the sidelines, Jesus says, “it becomes harder to enter the kingdom of God than it is for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle.” We need to pay attention to the heroes of faith that Jesus points out, and whom are pointed to in the scriptures of our spiritual ancestors. The widows in both of these stories lived Christ like lives—they put their trust in God instead of in their material possessions. They gave when common sense might have told them to hoard. Jesus, too, gave when common sense would have told him to keep for himself. Paul tells the Phillipeans that “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. 9Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
Here after all, was a man who was literally infused with the one and only God, but who came to earth as a poor man, a rambling healer who had nothing to call his own, nowhere to rest his head or to rest. How he must’ve felt like that widow when he was nailed to the cross—hoping this somewhat anonymous life given in totality would have some bearing on the kingdom. We are here because he did—and we look to him to guide our way. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
1 Kings 17: 8-16
Mark 12: 38-44
For some reason, this scripture reminds me of the time when I was in high school Sunday school class in Arkadelphia, when my teacher, Rex Holbrook, opened up his wallet and distributed all he had among each of us youth. I remember looking around the table in wide eyed disbelief as we at first were dumbfounded, then trying to protest. “No, no, you can’t do that!” Rex, I think I remember, had been teaching us about the parable of the talents—when the landowner distributed his wealth among the workers and promised to return. What I remember taking away from that lesson was that all that we are given is a gift, and we have the honor and privilege to share those gifts with others.
I Googled Rex to find out how he was doing. In my Google results, I came across a newsletter that said that his dad had recently passed away in August. He was still living in Arkadelphia, so I found his number and decided to give him a call. I hadn’t talked to him in 10 or more years!
I told him that the lesson he had taught that day had made a deep imprint on me, and that I would be sharing it in a sermon this week. He was delighted to hear from me and remarked that he had just been thinking the other day that most of us (his students) were now the age that he had been when he taught that class.
So why did this scripture remind me of that particular Sunday school lesson more than 10 years ago? I suppose it did because I remember the look in Rex’s eye when he handed me and every other student in that class of 7 or 10 youth a $20 bill. It was a look of complete trust and hope. It was unsettling—especially to a teenager! I imagine it was the same look in the eyes of the widows whom we heard about in today’s scriptures.
The widow that gives hospitality to Elijah and the widow whom Jesus observes giving money to the temple are linked across the centuries—both give what little they have and are blessed by prophets—both also are connected from across the millennia to us today.
Widows in the times of Elijah later in Jesus’ time had a difficult situation—they were reliant upon male children or brothers or other family members for their provision. This is why the widow who feeds Elijah was justifiably concerned that her hospitality of Elijah not interfere with her provision for her son. That son was the key to the survival of the whole family. Some Biblical scholars have reckoned that the reason Jesus says the scribes “devoured widows homes” was because there were social customs in which the scribes were charged with providing for the widows, or held a widow’s belongings in trust if there were no other males to look after finances. In any case, it is safe to say that widows had nothing, especially in comparison to the rich who gave large donations to the temple treasury. The priests and scribes used the temple treasury to provide for a lavish lifestyle, while the widows suffered.
The end result is that the temple authorities came to surround themselves in comfort and distractions and the widow who gave everything was completely vulnerable. It wasn’t as though the two pittance made the difference to the woman between poverty and sustenance though, there was essentially no difference between the widow keeping the two pennies and putting them in the treasury. The difference was in the posture of giving versus the posture of hoarding.
You see, Jesus’ lesson is that in the act of giving, the widow puts her complete trust in God’s mercy and grace. Really, it makes no difference if it is 2 pennies or 2 million pennies—all will eventually disintegrate into dust—our souls on the other hand, will be gathered in the treasury of heaven or the treasury of hell! Our spiritual selves are affected by giving—when we turn things over to the will and purpose of God, we place ourselves in the complete trust of God. If we grasp, hold on to, become preoccupied with money or anything other than God—we will sink.
Picture a great sailboat loaded down with treasure—when the boat needs to get somewhere quick and there is not much of a breeze, what does the captain shout? Lighten the load! Treasure overboard! It is then that the wind is able to pull the ship along where the captain wants to go. Belongings weigh us down, they create concerns. This is why Jesus says, “do not be concerned with what you will wear, or what you will eat.” Consider the ravens—they neither toil nor reap, but are fed by their father in Heaven. Consider the lilies; they neither spin nor clothe themselves, yet even Solomon in all his splendor could not match the beauty of one of them.
This is a difficult lesson for us to hear! It is hard for us to give up our belongings—they are comfortable, they bring us security and safety. Perhaps one way to reorient ourselves and our lives is to cultivate a different attitude toward our belongings.
What I hear most often from those who have lost their homes in a fire is that they find out that all they really cared about were the photo albums. What does that tell us?! It says to me that even though we spend so much time and stress and effort worrying about money and possessions, deep down in our heart of hearts what we are really concerned about is relationship! Lord, give us a sense of these priorities in our daily lives! God, our Father and our friend, help us value our relationship with you as much as you value it!
Mary Anderson, a pastor in Columbia, SC wrote in an article in Christian Century, “The widow wasn't dependent on her money or her status in life; she had none of these. She was dependent on God and her neighbor for everything. She didn't have two feet to stand on, she didn't have bootstraps to pull up. She was totally dependent—and that's what Jesus pulls out of her story like a pearl of great price. This is what we are to be like before God—dependent on nothing but the grace of God. We are to be people without any resources except the riches of God's mercy.
The issue is not how much we have in the bank, but what that money is for us. Is it our heart, our security, our source of power, or is it a tool for our stewardship? Are we dependent on our money to give us all we want and need from life, or are we dependent on God to make us rich? If you follow me, Jesus teaches, you will walk in the way of the widow. Live lives that show in everything you do and say that you are dependent on God for all you have and all you are.”
This relationship with God is the model that Jesus set before us with his life. It is the radical trust, hope, and attention on God’s presence that make up a life well lived. When our lives are crowded with things—distractions that tend to displace our relationship with God to the sidelines, Jesus says, “it becomes harder to enter the kingdom of God than it is for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle.” We need to pay attention to the heroes of faith that Jesus points out, and whom are pointed to in the scriptures of our spiritual ancestors. The widows in both of these stories lived Christ like lives—they put their trust in God instead of in their material possessions. They gave when common sense might have told them to hoard. Jesus, too, gave when common sense would have told him to keep for himself. Paul tells the Phillipeans that “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. 9Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
Here after all, was a man who was literally infused with the one and only God, but who came to earth as a poor man, a rambling healer who had nothing to call his own, nowhere to rest his head or to rest. How he must’ve felt like that widow when he was nailed to the cross—hoping this somewhat anonymous life given in totality would have some bearing on the kingdom. We are here because he did—and we look to him to guide our way. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
