Sermon Texts:
1 Tim 2: 1-8
Matthew 20: 1-16
We live in a culture that has its roots firmly planted in fairness. You get out what you put in—You reap what you sow. Some attribute the economic success of the United States to the “Protestant Work Ethic.” The idea that we are masters of our own ship that was cultivated by the Puritans who arrived in the 17th century.
The liberation of the Bible from the priest and into the hands and languages of the laypeople was a powerful force of the Reformation, and it led to strengthened sense of individuality and personal responsibility. Indeed, many scholars say the Enlightenment itself was planted in the enhanced philosophy of the individual, which was a byproduct of the translation of the Bible into the vernacular. A result of the enlightenment of the 17th and 18th century was the notion of “individual rights” which led to the democratic revolutions. Individual rights as you know sit on a see saw with individual responsibilities. The balance of the two is an agreed upon notion of fairness.
This scripture passage has chafed me since I was a kid. Perhaps it’s that it gnaws at my modern sensibilities of “fairness.” It’s the same thing with the prodigal son’s brother who sticks around and helps out on the farm, or the other sheep who stay in the fold while the shepherd goes off looking for the lost sheep. I don’t remember being an extremely cynical child, but for some reason I always sided with the person who was seemingly wronged in the parable. Those who showed up first and worked all day DESERVED a better pay than those who showed up and worked an hour in the coolness of the evening. Why would the shepherd leave unattended those 99 sheep who had enough sense NOT to go wandering off? The father who rushed out to welcome back his wayward son who showed him no respect and spent all his inheritance in a binge seemed to be revealing an embarrassing degree of FAVORITISM in my book—his other son stuck by him the entire time and he didn’t get a big party?!
Part of me still wonders what kind of time this hypothetical landowner had the next day when he went out into the town square early in the morning and tried to recruit some workers for his vineyard. He likely wouldn’t have any success rounding people up until 5pm if you ask me! Of course, Jesus mentions no “next day” in his parable.
No—Jesus boldly proclaims the beauty of a God who transcends or perhaps simply pre-dates our concept of fairness or “right and wrong.” The landowner who is recruiting help and paying what he wishes inhabits a story where there is no “next day.” Instead, the generosity that he offers, and in turn the unbelievable grace that his generosity points to in our God has no concern for the “next day” when he may or may not be able to get any help. The generosity and grace is ultimately tied to the present moment. It is found in every breath we take and has no concern for our past or our future. IT is given to us because it is a product of God’s eternal nature.
Jesus continuously reminds us that we are given grace not according to our faithfulness, but according to God’s ever abundant generosity. Though it may offend my sense of right and wrong, Jesus tells us that God’s generosity extends beyond the boundaries of fairness. Is this a welcome word? Is this Good News? It isn’t if we consider Fairness to be God’s chief virtue. Here’s a thought—perhaps our cultural picture of a God who judges us eternally based on the life we lived, or who rewards hard work and lasting faithfulness with all the bounty we can comprehend is simply a byproduct of our fairly young and fairly immature culture. The Gospel lesson tells us of a God who is radically UNFAIR—Our God might be accused of being naïve by our worldly standards. The indiscriminating outpouring of grace and love toward all who come with open hands is a beautiful picture—but we would probably call someone who enacted this kind of ethical standard in our day and age an idealist.
Perhaps my problem with this story and the others is my own haughty assumption that I can even identify with the early workers. My concentration on the “fairness” of the passage probably means that I, consciously or not, believe that I am an “early worker” when the reality is that I’m probably showing up at around 4:55 to the market square to look for work. While I may be more prone to grumbling about fairness, I should actually be rejoicing at the undeserved grace I’ve been given.
Perhaps the reality is that we’re all showing up late to put in an hour’s work. In the cultural context in which this Gospel lesson was written, Gentiles would probably have taken comfort to know that even those who had shown up late to the game were given the same reward as those who had been part of the project for so long. The God of Christianity was and is the God of the Hebrews. There was competition between Jewish adherents of Jesus and Gentile adherents of Jesus. In a way, this parable spoke to the early church in a way that still speaks to us today. Those Gentiles who were new to the faith, and thus “late comers” to the vineyard, were given the same reward as those who had practiced the faith of the fathers for their whole life. Matthew gives his audience a fresh vision of the radical inclusiveness of this God we worship. We aren’t rewarded for how long we’ve believed: There are no company watches given in God’s Kingdom—we are rewarded by God’s grace. God’s grace can’t be quantified into a little grace for you and a much larger portion of grace for you. God’s grace is immeasurable and infinite in every circumstance it is given.
We are all recipients of this grace—if we must think in terms of “equal measure” then the story tells us it is an equal measure. But the truth is that it is quantified and multiplied by what we do with it. Jesus also tells the story of the talents, where a landowner gives talents to each of his slaves, and they bring glory to their master based on what they DO with those talents. If we share the grace we are given with others, we multiply that grace in the world, and our master is glorified because of it.
We have such a bad habit of drawing lines around ourselves and between ourselves. There are those of us who are old Christians and new Christians, there are those of us who have “gotten what was coming to us” and there are those of us who are living “charmed lives.” There are insiders and outsiders, latecomers and early risers. Our cultural norms reinforce these lines of distinction and convince us to act in accordance with their rules and laws.
But we have a God who refuses to pay attention to such things. God extends grace to every living soul on the face of the earth. There is no contract to sign, there are no hours to put in, there is nothing on this earth that can squeeze out more or less grace than what is being offered us when we draw our first breath. God loves us all to our cores at that moment. We are loved as much at our first moment, without doing a thing about it, as we are loved at our last moment, with a life of service to God behind us. God loves you and me as much as He loves his greatest servants, like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, or John Wesley.
God loves you and me as much as he loves our greatest enemies, or those people we believe don’t deserve God’s grace. The story of the generous landowner tells us that God’s love is radically and eternally present and pouring over each of our lives. The story of the talents gives us a deeper perspective in that we realize that we must open our hands and receive God’s outpouring of love. We must be filled and in turn spill over with God’s redeeming love. If we are given God’s grace and talents and then bury them in our hearts for only our consolation and hope, then we are like the workers who bury their talents in the ground, waiting for the master’s return.
If we delight in the grace given us at the end of the day instead of grumbling about God’s generosity—if we take our “earnings” and share them with our neighbors, God’s grace will multiply in the world through us. We will become conduits of God’s grace! Thanks be to God! Amen
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Sept. 16 Sermon: True Holiness
Micah 6: 6-8
Matthew 6: 1-15
It is very clear that the idea of holiness was the main concern of two young men at Oxford two and a half centuries ago named John and Charles Wesley. The two named their student religious club “The Holy Club,” and their meticulous attention to applying a holy regiment to their lives earned this club the nickname “the Methodists” among those who derided their efforts.
In John Wesley’s “Notes,” Wesley writes in a question/answer format: “What was the rise of Methodism, so called? In 1729, two young men, reading the Bible, saw they could not be saved without holiness, followed after it, and incited others so to do. In 1737 they saw holiness comes by faith. They saw likewise, that men are justified before they are sanctified; but still holiness was their point. God then thrust them out, utterly against their will, to raise a holy people.” The mission statement of the early movement of Methodists was clearly dedicated to holiness as the guiding principle. Wesley asked himself the question, “What may we reasonably believe to be God’s design in raising up the Preachers called Methodists? Not to form any new sect: but to reform the nation, particularly the church; and to spread scriptural holiness over the land.
What exactly is this idea of holiness? Christian perfection, according to Wesley, is “purity of intention, dedicating all the life to God” and “the mind which was in Christ, enabling us to walk as Christ walked.” It is “loving God with all our heart, and our neighbor as ourselves” (A Plain Account of Christian Perfection, 109). It is “a restoration not only to the favour, but likewise to the image of God,” our “being filled with the fullness of God” (The End of Christ’s Coming, 482).
Wesley was clear that Christian perfection did not imply perfection of bodily health or an infallibility of judgment. It also does not mean we no longer violate the will of God, for involuntary transgressions remain. Perfected Christians remain subject to temptation, and have continued need to pray for forgiveness and holiness. It is not an absolute perfection but a perfection in love. Furthermore, Wesley did not teach a salvation by perfection, but rather says that, “Even perfect holiness is acceptable to God only through Jesus Christ.” (A Plain Account of Christian Perfection)
Holiness, or Perfectionism, was a guiding principle of the Methodist movement for Wesley. It was also one of the most contentious of issues throughout the history of our denomination.
Some in the movement stressed holiness as a personal moral code, while others translated holiness into social activism. Many remained true to Welsey’s notion that personal holiness fed social holiness.
The Book of Discipline states, “we proclaim no personal gospel that fails to express itself in relevant social concerns; we proclaim no social gospel that does not include the personal transformation of sinners” (49). The social witness that is the goal of the church begins in the hearts and lives of its believers.
Amidst the tumultuous times of the American 19th centuy, certain elements of the Methodist movement felt that the church wasn’t lifting up the great heritage of personal holiness. During the last half of the 19th century, groups within the church began challenging the church as a whole to become reinvested in “personal holiness” by reclaiming the class meetings and love feasts that had been a hallmark of our denominational expression. In the 1870’s a group called the National Camp Meeting Association for the Promotion of Holiness sought to bring the church back to the glory days of the early 1800’s, when the Methodist movement spread like wildfire throughout the wilderness of the Appalacias in a series of Camp meetings. IN the 1890’s The Nazarene church split off from the main line of Methodism as well because some felt that personal holiness was no longer being accentuated.
There is no contesting the fact that by the late 19th century, the Methodist Episcopal church had indeed lost many of the traditions that had characterized the movement in its earlier days, such as testimony, shared feeling, and spontaneous evangelism, and practices such as the class meeting and love feasts and camp meetings. However to identify these practices as the only vehicles of “Holiness” is to misinterpret Wesley’s full understanding of holiness. The church did indeed evolve. The class meeting became Sunday School, church policy and mission built on testimony and shared feeling was transformed into church policy and mission coming out of specialized, rationally deliberated and centrally coordinated committee meetings.
To say that these structures eliminated the persuasion of the Holy Spirit though is to believe the Holy Spirit is fairly weak and incapable. The emphasis in the Main line church at the time of the Holiness “exodus” and Pentecostal movement was indeed on transforming society, but it was still holiness. It was Social holiness—attention to women’s suffrage, dietary reform, medical attention in the ghettos and in poor countries, mission work, abolition of slavery.
What does it mean for us today?
As someone who is consecrated by the Bishop to serve as a leader and an example to this community, I understand holiness to be to make myself a “clean window” for God’s light to shine through my life. Wesley believed, and I believe, that personal holiness is the foundation of social holiness.
As we “grow in grace” and come closer to the redemptive heart of Christ, the Spirit will flow out of our hearts, as Christ proclaims in John 7: 37-38: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” Personal holiness is living with the thirst for Christ. When we drink from the spring of life, when we live holiness, our hearts become channels of that great peace and joy. That personal decision to accept the grace that aligns our lives with life of Christ makes us one more step toward a “complete holiness” of individuals and society.
The scriptures that we read today also give us a key to holiness. Oftentimes our temptation is to “show off” our holiness.
It’s this attitude that has caused modern minds to think negatively when they hear the word “pious.”
The prophet Micah reminds us that what the Lord truly requires of us is not the fanfare and the show, but instead God wants us to be excellent in the quiet things that truly show our love for the God of love: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God. This is what it means to be an open window for God’s light.
Matthew also tells of Jesus warning his followers about the “dangers of holiness. It is our temptation to seek recognition for the lives we lead. Jesus tells us plainly, “Beware of practicing your piety in front of others in order to be seen by them, for then you will receive no reward from your father in heaven.” The pitfall of holiness is that we believe it is OUR determination to lead a life of piety and purity that DESERVES to be noticed.
This is why I prefer the window illustration. A window works best when it is completely clean and free of blemish or obstruction. Seeking a life of holiness is akin to keeping our “window clean.” What do we notice about a clean window? Well, if the window is truly clean, it might not even be noticed at all! A clean window is transparent—it draws no attention to itself, but instead to what is outside it! A clean and holy life truly draws attention not to ourselves, but to what shines through us!
At the end of the passage we read in Matthew, Jesus helps us reign in our egos and desire for attention by laying out a simple prayer. At the end of the prayer, he shares the secret of salvation. Most of us, when asked what it takes to be saved would probably lay out a set of beliefs. If you subscribe to this idea, then you’re saved—that’s the way many of us approach a life of faith.
However, according to Matthew, Jesus has another idea of what is the key to salvation. Once again, he lays it out very plainly—“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your Father will forgive you. But if you don’t forgive others, your father will not forgive you.” There it is—the most holy thing we can possibly do. Somewhere along the line, it was contorted simply into living a life of abstincence. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, and don’t dance: that’s holiness. How can we forget when it is right there in the print as plain as day—If you want to live a life of holiness, you must forgive! Forgiveness is that light that shines down from heaven. That is the main point that Jesus was trying to communicate to us—we are a forgiven people. If we block up the window and pull the drapes on God’s forgiveness by not allowing that beautiful light to shine through our lives, then we are in the darkness too!
If you’re seeking to live a holier life—start by asking yourself, “From whom am I withholding forgiveness?” If you have forgiven another person, but are not receiving reconciliation in return, know that God’s light of forgiveness is bursting at the seams to come back to you. Forgiveness is not ours, this is why it is a key to salvation. Forgiveness belongs only to God, and God wishes to share it through us with the world.
This is true holiness. Life is not a stage, and holiness is not a show. We don’t do things to be noticed. Holiness isn’t amping up our worship services so they look and sound more “spiritual.” Holiness is simply living forgiveness in every aspect of life. It’s keeping the window clean so that God’s light can shine through. What a gift it is to have the potential to represent God’s goodness in the world! May we all pray to “let love and integrity envelop me until my love is perfected and the last vestige of my desiring is no longer in conflict with thy Spirit. Lord, We want to be more holy in our hearts!” Amen
Matthew 6: 1-15
It is very clear that the idea of holiness was the main concern of two young men at Oxford two and a half centuries ago named John and Charles Wesley. The two named their student religious club “The Holy Club,” and their meticulous attention to applying a holy regiment to their lives earned this club the nickname “the Methodists” among those who derided their efforts.
In John Wesley’s “Notes,” Wesley writes in a question/answer format: “What was the rise of Methodism, so called? In 1729, two young men, reading the Bible, saw they could not be saved without holiness, followed after it, and incited others so to do. In 1737 they saw holiness comes by faith. They saw likewise, that men are justified before they are sanctified; but still holiness was their point. God then thrust them out, utterly against their will, to raise a holy people.” The mission statement of the early movement of Methodists was clearly dedicated to holiness as the guiding principle. Wesley asked himself the question, “What may we reasonably believe to be God’s design in raising up the Preachers called Methodists? Not to form any new sect: but to reform the nation, particularly the church; and to spread scriptural holiness over the land.
What exactly is this idea of holiness? Christian perfection, according to Wesley, is “purity of intention, dedicating all the life to God” and “the mind which was in Christ, enabling us to walk as Christ walked.” It is “loving God with all our heart, and our neighbor as ourselves” (A Plain Account of Christian Perfection, 109). It is “a restoration not only to the favour, but likewise to the image of God,” our “being filled with the fullness of God” (The End of Christ’s Coming, 482).
Wesley was clear that Christian perfection did not imply perfection of bodily health or an infallibility of judgment. It also does not mean we no longer violate the will of God, for involuntary transgressions remain. Perfected Christians remain subject to temptation, and have continued need to pray for forgiveness and holiness. It is not an absolute perfection but a perfection in love. Furthermore, Wesley did not teach a salvation by perfection, but rather says that, “Even perfect holiness is acceptable to God only through Jesus Christ.” (A Plain Account of Christian Perfection)
Holiness, or Perfectionism, was a guiding principle of the Methodist movement for Wesley. It was also one of the most contentious of issues throughout the history of our denomination.
Some in the movement stressed holiness as a personal moral code, while others translated holiness into social activism. Many remained true to Welsey’s notion that personal holiness fed social holiness.
The Book of Discipline states, “we proclaim no personal gospel that fails to express itself in relevant social concerns; we proclaim no social gospel that does not include the personal transformation of sinners” (49). The social witness that is the goal of the church begins in the hearts and lives of its believers.
Amidst the tumultuous times of the American 19th centuy, certain elements of the Methodist movement felt that the church wasn’t lifting up the great heritage of personal holiness. During the last half of the 19th century, groups within the church began challenging the church as a whole to become reinvested in “personal holiness” by reclaiming the class meetings and love feasts that had been a hallmark of our denominational expression. In the 1870’s a group called the National Camp Meeting Association for the Promotion of Holiness sought to bring the church back to the glory days of the early 1800’s, when the Methodist movement spread like wildfire throughout the wilderness of the Appalacias in a series of Camp meetings. IN the 1890’s The Nazarene church split off from the main line of Methodism as well because some felt that personal holiness was no longer being accentuated.
There is no contesting the fact that by the late 19th century, the Methodist Episcopal church had indeed lost many of the traditions that had characterized the movement in its earlier days, such as testimony, shared feeling, and spontaneous evangelism, and practices such as the class meeting and love feasts and camp meetings. However to identify these practices as the only vehicles of “Holiness” is to misinterpret Wesley’s full understanding of holiness. The church did indeed evolve. The class meeting became Sunday School, church policy and mission built on testimony and shared feeling was transformed into church policy and mission coming out of specialized, rationally deliberated and centrally coordinated committee meetings.
To say that these structures eliminated the persuasion of the Holy Spirit though is to believe the Holy Spirit is fairly weak and incapable. The emphasis in the Main line church at the time of the Holiness “exodus” and Pentecostal movement was indeed on transforming society, but it was still holiness. It was Social holiness—attention to women’s suffrage, dietary reform, medical attention in the ghettos and in poor countries, mission work, abolition of slavery.
What does it mean for us today?
As someone who is consecrated by the Bishop to serve as a leader and an example to this community, I understand holiness to be to make myself a “clean window” for God’s light to shine through my life. Wesley believed, and I believe, that personal holiness is the foundation of social holiness.
As we “grow in grace” and come closer to the redemptive heart of Christ, the Spirit will flow out of our hearts, as Christ proclaims in John 7: 37-38: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” Personal holiness is living with the thirst for Christ. When we drink from the spring of life, when we live holiness, our hearts become channels of that great peace and joy. That personal decision to accept the grace that aligns our lives with life of Christ makes us one more step toward a “complete holiness” of individuals and society.
The scriptures that we read today also give us a key to holiness. Oftentimes our temptation is to “show off” our holiness.
It’s this attitude that has caused modern minds to think negatively when they hear the word “pious.”
The prophet Micah reminds us that what the Lord truly requires of us is not the fanfare and the show, but instead God wants us to be excellent in the quiet things that truly show our love for the God of love: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God. This is what it means to be an open window for God’s light.
Matthew also tells of Jesus warning his followers about the “dangers of holiness. It is our temptation to seek recognition for the lives we lead. Jesus tells us plainly, “Beware of practicing your piety in front of others in order to be seen by them, for then you will receive no reward from your father in heaven.” The pitfall of holiness is that we believe it is OUR determination to lead a life of piety and purity that DESERVES to be noticed.
This is why I prefer the window illustration. A window works best when it is completely clean and free of blemish or obstruction. Seeking a life of holiness is akin to keeping our “window clean.” What do we notice about a clean window? Well, if the window is truly clean, it might not even be noticed at all! A clean window is transparent—it draws no attention to itself, but instead to what is outside it! A clean and holy life truly draws attention not to ourselves, but to what shines through us!
At the end of the passage we read in Matthew, Jesus helps us reign in our egos and desire for attention by laying out a simple prayer. At the end of the prayer, he shares the secret of salvation. Most of us, when asked what it takes to be saved would probably lay out a set of beliefs. If you subscribe to this idea, then you’re saved—that’s the way many of us approach a life of faith.
However, according to Matthew, Jesus has another idea of what is the key to salvation. Once again, he lays it out very plainly—“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your Father will forgive you. But if you don’t forgive others, your father will not forgive you.” There it is—the most holy thing we can possibly do. Somewhere along the line, it was contorted simply into living a life of abstincence. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, and don’t dance: that’s holiness. How can we forget when it is right there in the print as plain as day—If you want to live a life of holiness, you must forgive! Forgiveness is that light that shines down from heaven. That is the main point that Jesus was trying to communicate to us—we are a forgiven people. If we block up the window and pull the drapes on God’s forgiveness by not allowing that beautiful light to shine through our lives, then we are in the darkness too!
If you’re seeking to live a holier life—start by asking yourself, “From whom am I withholding forgiveness?” If you have forgiven another person, but are not receiving reconciliation in return, know that God’s light of forgiveness is bursting at the seams to come back to you. Forgiveness is not ours, this is why it is a key to salvation. Forgiveness belongs only to God, and God wishes to share it through us with the world.
This is true holiness. Life is not a stage, and holiness is not a show. We don’t do things to be noticed. Holiness isn’t amping up our worship services so they look and sound more “spiritual.” Holiness is simply living forgiveness in every aspect of life. It’s keeping the window clean so that God’s light can shine through. What a gift it is to have the potential to represent God’s goodness in the world! May we all pray to “let love and integrity envelop me until my love is perfected and the last vestige of my desiring is no longer in conflict with thy Spirit. Lord, We want to be more holy in our hearts!” Amen
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Covenant Discipleship Group postponed
Although we have interest in the Covenant Discipleship group, we are having the worst luck finding a Sunday when those interested can meet to form the covenant. The meeting this Sunday after church will be postponed to a later date.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sept. 09 Sermon: The connection
Scripture:Ephesians 4: 1-16John 17: 20-26
For the past few weeks, working on all our charge conference papers has gotten me thinking about our church’s connectional nature. What does it mean? What does it say to the world? Charge conference is when we account for our ministries in this local congregation to our district superintendent, Linda Harker. Linda is charged with the oversight of about 60 churches in the area around Muskogee, where her office is located. That is her appointment, fixed by the bishop of our conference, Robert Hayes. Her talents and ministries are shared with this congregation in her pastoral nurture of my family and me, through the accountability she gives us by reviewing our ministries, our spiritual and financial health as a congregation, and in her prayers for us and attention to our needs. Yes, the connection of the United Methodist Church is a wonderful and often ignored aspect of our denomination. So, in that spirit, I decided to take a few pictures of our church and show them to you this morning.
Looks like a very big church—perhaps a city church. Definitely not us! I can tell you many things about this church—youth have gone out to sleep on the street and were interviewed by the local news to raise awareness about the homelessness in their part of town. The choir is great—they have a pianist who really gets into the music and kind of bobs her head up and down.
The pastor is a dynamic woman who speaks with great joy and passion about the love of God, and yet has the heartache of living with a husband who has Alzheimer’s at a fairly young age. They have a vibrant Steven’s ministry, where members are trained to be grief counselors with other members in confidential, life giving settings. This, friends is your presence as a United Methodist on Wilshire Boulevard in Westwood—the neighborhood around UCLA where Lara and I used to attend before we came to know the Methodists here in this neck of the woods.
You have a real and living connection with Westwood UMC—and it is not just through Lara, who transferred her membership from this church to Waldron and then here. It is through a system that connects our local churches together to minister to the world in ways which might be impossible by ourselves. It was the faith and genius of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, to adopt such a structure for his renewal movement in eighteenth century England – a connectional system. For Wesley, that meant individual Christians involved in a small fellowship group, designed for faith-sharing and holding one another accountable to a life of discipleship. Those small groups were joined into congregations, which were joined into the larger connection of the whole of the Methodist movement.
Even closer to our church in connection is the body of United Methodists within the “connection” of the Oklahoma Conference. This church is literally a “charge” of the Methodist connection in this community. You may have noticed that I never took vows of membership within this particular church, because my membership is with the whole “connection” of United Methodism within the Oklahoma Conference. Of course, we do great ministry right here, through Morris United Methodist Church. But we do even greater things through our worldwide connection. This is who we are and what we support through our generous apportionment and mission giving.
Through our apportionment, that sum of money that our church sends to the conference and district and combined with the money collected by every other charge, we are able to provide for ministries in needed areas which are decided on by representatives of each charge at the “Annual Conference.” The apportionment is the “lifeblood” of the connectional system. It grounds the churches in the reality of their connection to the rest of the churches in the conference.
Our Book of Discipline, which is basically the constitution of the church, states that “Connectionalism in the UM tradition is multi-leveled, global in scope, and local in thrust. Our connectionalism is not merely a linking of one charge conference to another. It is rather a vital web of interactive relationships.
All this is not for its own sake. As the retired Bishop Kenneth Carder of Mississippi once said, “Polity is Ecclesiology”, or in simpler terms, the way we structure the church gives us insight on what we believe the church represents in the world. The connectional ideal is grounded in the very scriptures that we read today. We hear that Jesus wishes us to be “One, as the Father and I are one.” We also are familiar with Paul’s referral to the church as a body, and that as he says in Ephesians, “We are members, one of another.”
Paul speaks about the unified ideal of the church, and it is obvious that through a healthy and vibrant connection, we are more capable of reaching the goals of this earthly representation of the Body of Christ, in which we aspire to “grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.”
In my own experience, the connectional church has indeed promoted the body’s growth in building itself up in love.” Most of you know that as a minister in his first three years of ministry, I am in what is called he “probationary process.” This is administered by the Oklahoma conference to assure the people of its churches that it is served by a competent clergy. In this process, I have been involved in a group with other probationers and two retired clergy who are our mentors which meets about once a quarter. It has been very helpful for me to have these mentors and peers to talk with about my struggles, joys, and new insights as I am called to be the best pastor I can be. This kind of process would not be in place if we didn’t belong to a connectional church, where the pastors of UM churches in Mounds and Muskogee and Talequah and Muldrow all care very deeply and pray for my blooming ministry right here in Morris.
Perhaps one of the most visible and impacting aspects of the “connectional church” is the iteneracy. Though it may sometimes be a reason you lament being a United Methodist, you are served by an “itinerant” clergy. One who comes and lives in and serves this community along side you, but who remains a person “assigned” to this charge, and at the discretion of the Bishop and his cabinet may be reassigned to another “charge” within the Conference.
This method of organizing church leads to a very real sense of connection between the Methodist churches in one area because you are all served by the same clergy, and because we all contribute to one purpose—making disciples for Jesus Christ.
In 1 Corinthians 3, Paul speaks of this same structure within the church. He writes, “Using the gift God gave me as a good architect, I designed blueprints; Apollos is putting up the walls. Let each carpenter who comes on the job take care to build on the foundation!11 Remember, there is only one foundation, the one already laid: Jesus Christ. 12 Take particular care in picking out your building materials. 13 Eventually there is going to be an inspection. If you use cheap or inferior materials, you'll be found out. The inspection will be thorough and rigorous. You won't get by with a thing. 14 If your work passes inspection, fine; 15 if it doesn't, your part of the building will be torn out and started over. But you won't be torn out; you'll survive - but just barely. 16 You realize, don't you, that you are the temple of God, and God himself is present in you? 17 No one will get by with vandalizing God's temple, you can be sure of that. God's temple is sacred - and you, remember, are the temple.”
When I started parish ministry, I had a dream that I was a kind of “traveling architect” who came upon a group of people building a house. In my dream, you—the church were the people working on the house, and the house was something very special, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on a particular style. The house was a unique kind of place, windows sticking out here and there, winding staircases and turrets, a large, welcoming front door, and a couple back doors. As I came up to the house and made my suggestions for other additions to the house, you scratched your head and surveyed the plans, you shared your tools with me and we began building.
It became clear to me that you, the church, had been welcoming other “traveling architects” like me for quite some time, which was why this place was so unique. After reading this passage from Corinthians the other day, it struck me that the building that we are working on is literally God’s Temple—Not a physical structure, but the wonderful temple which is YOU according to Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.
With an itinerant clergy, you may sometimes feel like a watering hole for clergy to pass through and offer their “two cents.” But if we pay attention to Paul’s metaphor, we see that we are indeed building a very unique and beautiful house—one that God can live in. A house that has welcoming doors and lots of windows. We should pay attention to the building materials that we use, because we want this house to stand the test of time—and it will endure some trials. However, with our connection, with the input of all those traveling architects, the Spirit will lead us to build on solid foundations.
O
ne thing I really love are the great cathedrals of Europe . Some of us have been privileged to have stood under their great lofty domes and felt our spirits soar to the heights. Imagine the work of the first builders, learning how to keep those domes aloft. It was trial and error.Did you know that the great dome of the Hagia Sofia in Constantinople collapsed twice before the builders learned how to do it right? But the cathedral builders gradually learned about arches and flying buttresses. They learned that the more structural connections you make, the stronger the building, the more structural connections, the larger and more expansive the dome. Just as for our greatest cathedrals, the same is true for the living body of the church as well.
The more structural connections there are, the stronger the mission. The more connections there are, the larger and more expansive the witness.And another thing about the great cathedral builders: they labored and labored on a project that would take longer to construct than they had to live. The cathedral builders were willing to give their lives to something that they would never see completed. This is the meaning of doing something “for the glory of God.” When we are committed to beauty and goodness truly for the sake of God, we commit ourselves to the fruition of that endeavor even when we are very confident that we won’t taste the fruit of our labors. This is what it means to struggle for the kingdom of God. Our training in this “instant gratification” culture may dissuade us from committing ourselves to such things, but we have faith in Christ that someday our efforts on behalf of the Kingdom of God will bear fruit. By connecting ourselves with others engaged in that task, we build bigger and grander Temples for God. When we join our voices with others, our witness echoes longer into the future.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
New Young Adult Small Group on Sun. Mornings
New Young Adult Sunday school class is off to a great start. 5 people attended our first meeting, and if more show up, we're going to have to move the class to the parsonage den. We hope that is the case! We're using the Nooma videos to guide discussions. Come check it out!
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Welcome to our Church Leon and Suzy!
Leon and Suzy Langford joined our church at our worship service today!
They transferred their membership from Advent Christian Church in Clovis, NM.
They transferred their membership from Advent Christian Church in Clovis, NM.
September 2 Sermon, Cracked Cisterns
Texts: Jeremiah and Luke
Man, I’m happy football season is here! One of my favorite NFL moments was back in 2000, when Terrell Owens, then with the S.F. 49ers, was playing a game against the Dallas Cowboys. T.O., as he is known, caught two touchdown passes in that game, and after each of them, he ran from the in-zone to midfield and stood in the big blue star at mid-field and held his hands out wide, like, “Look at me! I’m the Star!” Not exactly a paragon of humility.
Here is one who exalts himself, and has made his name for exalting himself. After scoring his 100th career touchdown in Philadelphia, he pulled a towel from his waist, folded it over his arm, and then placed the football in the palm of his hand, holding it over his shoulder and pretending to serve it up to the opposing team like a waiter would present a meal.
“The proud man can learn humility, but he will be proud of it”
A church realized the importance of humility, so it formed a committee to find the most humble person in the church. Many names were submitted and numerous candidates evaluated. Finally, the committee came to a unanimous decision. They selected a quiet little man who always lived in the background and had never taken credit for anything he had done. They awarded him the "Most Humble" button for his faithful service. However, the next day they had to take it away from him because he pinned it on. (Kent Crockett, Making Today Count for Eternity, Sisters, OR: Multnomah Publishers, 2001, p. 122)
Humility is something that’s hard to get a handle on. Is it humility when one stifles their pride? Is it an inner quality, something we are born with, or is it something that can be practiced into reality? Jesus seems to think it is the latter. Here he is in precarious dinner situation—pay attention to the text—Luke tells us his hosts are “watching him closely.”
Haven’t you ever been invited to a dinner like that? Where you sense your kind “hosts” are watching you like a hawk, wondering if you’re going to mess up? I know I have! Jesus gives his hosts plenty to chew on, that’s for sure.
I can just see the other guests of the dinner “discreetly” trying to assume their place at the head table, and then Jesus gives them a little “word to the wise.” “Hey guys, aren’t you going to be embarrassed if someone more important than you arrives, and our host has to tell you to go sit at the “kid’s table?” “Instead,” Jesus says, “take the lowest seat and your host might tell you, Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.”
And then he speaks in the future tense. When Jesus speaks in the future tense, he’s speaking about “Kingdom Life.” Kingdom life is the way that God dreams that we will live. Kingdom life is what we strive toward as people of faith. Jesus says, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Humility is not to be feigned as a strategy for recognition. On the contrary, humility is a quality of life open to persons who know that their worth is not measured by recognition from their peers but by the certainty that God has accepted them. St. Augustine said, “Humility is the foundation of all the other virtues hence, in the soul in which this virtue does not exist there cannot be any other virtue except in mere appearance.”
A truly humble man is hard to find, yet God delights to honor such selfless people. Booker T. Washington, the renowned black educator, was an outstanding example of this truth. Shortly after he took over the presidency of Tuskegee Institute in Alabama, he was walking in an exclusive section of town when he was stopped by a wealthy white woman. Not knowing the famous Mr. Washington by sight, she asked if he would like to earn a few dollars by chopping wood for her. Because he had no pressing business at the moment, Professor Washington smiled, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to do the humble chore she had requested. When he was finished, he carried the logs into the house and stacked them by the fireplace. A little girl recognized him and later revealed his identity to the lady.
The next morning the embarrassed woman went to see Mr. Washington in his office at the Institute and apologized profusely. "It's perfectly all right, Madam," he replied. "Occasionally I enjoy a little manual labor. Besides, it's always a delight to do something for a friend." She shook his hand warmly and assured him that his meek and gracious attitude had endeared him and his work to her heart. Not long afterward she showed her admiration by persuading some wealthy acquaintances to join her in donating thousands of dollars to the Tuskegee Institute.
Here’s the paradox: true Humility rests on the firm foundation of a deep, abiding confidence-- A confidence that our worth is not measured by recognition from our peers but by the certainty that God has accepted us. Humility is a state of rest, it is a state of contentment. Pride and posturing, jockeying for the best seat in the house---all of that springs out of a deep sense of unease.
The Lord says, through the prophet Jeremiah, “my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.” Jeremiah is referring to the fickleness of the people of God. God has sorrow for his people.
They have the pride to believe that they can choose their own gods much like the dinner guests with whom Jesus ate had the pride to believe they could choose the place of honor. But our worldly ideas of honor and glory and achievement and status are “cracked cisterns that hold no water.” They are rooted in the corroding and corrosive virtues of self-reliance, hoarding, and greed. In the Kingdom of God, these fortresses of earthly glory will crumble.
Why do we leave the fountain of living water and turn to inventions of our own making? Why do we forsake humility for pride? Why do we abandon the surety of God’s promise for the shaky ground of self reliance? Why do we build our houses on the sand instead of the rock? To me, it conjures up the image of trading in a ring of precious metal that I have neglected to polish for shiny tinsel. Does that metaphor translate for you? God’s love and promise is like precious metal. When we do not nurture the connection with God, it, like precious metal, loses its luster. To the casual glance, it might not seem worth anything anymore. Along comes the huckster, the deceiver, and he says to us. Why do you carry around that ugly old ring? I have a new and shiny one for you! But the ring is made out of tinsel—it is worthless. Notice what Jeremiah hears God saying, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?”
Oh, that cuts to the quick, doesn’t it! God’s heart is aching over our short-sightedness, our gluttony. We prop up ourselves instead of leaning on each other. We value pride and exaltation over humility and servanthood. We go after worthless things and become worthless ourselves.
The meaning and value that God gives you when you take your first breath is of more worth than any pursuit in our temporary world that might bring you temporary fame or temporary pride or temporary importance. If we forsake the Divine Breath within us to pursue temporary things, we are trading in a gold ring for a tinsel one. We are leaving the spring of life and making for ourselves cracked cisterns that hold no water. We are taking the honored place at a table when the guest of honor is walking up to the front door.
But God wants to bring you to a table where living water flows freely. God wants to say to us “Friend, move up higher.” God wants to claim you and give you meaning and worth that cannot be taken away. God wants to give you the polish that will bring the luster back to the ring of our inheritance. And it happens right here—it happens at this table. And do you notice what we do before we come to this table? We begin with confession. Sir Thomas More said, “Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.” Yes, this is the root of Kingdom Life. This is life at the fountain of life. Paul tells the Corinthians,
“Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. 28Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” The response to God’s grace that is revealed to us in scripture is confession. Confession humbles the heart, and it prepares us to receive a place at the table.
Confession opens our ears and allows us to hear the invitation of God— If we are deafened by singing our own praises, we won’t hear God telling us, “Friend, move up higher.”
Man, I’m happy football season is here! One of my favorite NFL moments was back in 2000, when Terrell Owens, then with the S.F. 49ers, was playing a game against the Dallas Cowboys. T.O., as he is known, caught two touchdown passes in that game, and after each of them, he ran from the in-zone to midfield and stood in the big blue star at mid-field and held his hands out wide, like, “Look at me! I’m the Star!” Not exactly a paragon of humility.
Here is one who exalts himself, and has made his name for exalting himself. After scoring his 100th career touchdown in Philadelphia, he pulled a towel from his waist, folded it over his arm, and then placed the football in the palm of his hand, holding it over his shoulder and pretending to serve it up to the opposing team like a waiter would present a meal.
“The proud man can learn humility, but he will be proud of it”
A church realized the importance of humility, so it formed a committee to find the most humble person in the church. Many names were submitted and numerous candidates evaluated. Finally, the committee came to a unanimous decision. They selected a quiet little man who always lived in the background and had never taken credit for anything he had done. They awarded him the "Most Humble" button for his faithful service. However, the next day they had to take it away from him because he pinned it on. (Kent Crockett, Making Today Count for Eternity, Sisters, OR: Multnomah Publishers, 2001, p. 122)
Humility is something that’s hard to get a handle on. Is it humility when one stifles their pride? Is it an inner quality, something we are born with, or is it something that can be practiced into reality? Jesus seems to think it is the latter. Here he is in precarious dinner situation—pay attention to the text—Luke tells us his hosts are “watching him closely.”
Haven’t you ever been invited to a dinner like that? Where you sense your kind “hosts” are watching you like a hawk, wondering if you’re going to mess up? I know I have! Jesus gives his hosts plenty to chew on, that’s for sure.
I can just see the other guests of the dinner “discreetly” trying to assume their place at the head table, and then Jesus gives them a little “word to the wise.” “Hey guys, aren’t you going to be embarrassed if someone more important than you arrives, and our host has to tell you to go sit at the “kid’s table?” “Instead,” Jesus says, “take the lowest seat and your host might tell you, Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.”
And then he speaks in the future tense. When Jesus speaks in the future tense, he’s speaking about “Kingdom Life.” Kingdom life is the way that God dreams that we will live. Kingdom life is what we strive toward as people of faith. Jesus says, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Humility is not to be feigned as a strategy for recognition. On the contrary, humility is a quality of life open to persons who know that their worth is not measured by recognition from their peers but by the certainty that God has accepted them. St. Augustine said, “Humility is the foundation of all the other virtues hence, in the soul in which this virtue does not exist there cannot be any other virtue except in mere appearance.”
A truly humble man is hard to find, yet God delights to honor such selfless people. Booker T. Washington, the renowned black educator, was an outstanding example of this truth. Shortly after he took over the presidency of Tuskegee Institute in Alabama, he was walking in an exclusive section of town when he was stopped by a wealthy white woman. Not knowing the famous Mr. Washington by sight, she asked if he would like to earn a few dollars by chopping wood for her. Because he had no pressing business at the moment, Professor Washington smiled, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to do the humble chore she had requested. When he was finished, he carried the logs into the house and stacked them by the fireplace. A little girl recognized him and later revealed his identity to the lady.
The next morning the embarrassed woman went to see Mr. Washington in his office at the Institute and apologized profusely. "It's perfectly all right, Madam," he replied. "Occasionally I enjoy a little manual labor. Besides, it's always a delight to do something for a friend." She shook his hand warmly and assured him that his meek and gracious attitude had endeared him and his work to her heart. Not long afterward she showed her admiration by persuading some wealthy acquaintances to join her in donating thousands of dollars to the Tuskegee Institute.
Here’s the paradox: true Humility rests on the firm foundation of a deep, abiding confidence-- A confidence that our worth is not measured by recognition from our peers but by the certainty that God has accepted us. Humility is a state of rest, it is a state of contentment. Pride and posturing, jockeying for the best seat in the house---all of that springs out of a deep sense of unease.
The Lord says, through the prophet Jeremiah, “my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.” Jeremiah is referring to the fickleness of the people of God. God has sorrow for his people.
They have the pride to believe that they can choose their own gods much like the dinner guests with whom Jesus ate had the pride to believe they could choose the place of honor. But our worldly ideas of honor and glory and achievement and status are “cracked cisterns that hold no water.” They are rooted in the corroding and corrosive virtues of self-reliance, hoarding, and greed. In the Kingdom of God, these fortresses of earthly glory will crumble.
Why do we leave the fountain of living water and turn to inventions of our own making? Why do we forsake humility for pride? Why do we abandon the surety of God’s promise for the shaky ground of self reliance? Why do we build our houses on the sand instead of the rock? To me, it conjures up the image of trading in a ring of precious metal that I have neglected to polish for shiny tinsel. Does that metaphor translate for you? God’s love and promise is like precious metal. When we do not nurture the connection with God, it, like precious metal, loses its luster. To the casual glance, it might not seem worth anything anymore. Along comes the huckster, the deceiver, and he says to us. Why do you carry around that ugly old ring? I have a new and shiny one for you! But the ring is made out of tinsel—it is worthless. Notice what Jeremiah hears God saying, “What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?”
Oh, that cuts to the quick, doesn’t it! God’s heart is aching over our short-sightedness, our gluttony. We prop up ourselves instead of leaning on each other. We value pride and exaltation over humility and servanthood. We go after worthless things and become worthless ourselves.
The meaning and value that God gives you when you take your first breath is of more worth than any pursuit in our temporary world that might bring you temporary fame or temporary pride or temporary importance. If we forsake the Divine Breath within us to pursue temporary things, we are trading in a gold ring for a tinsel one. We are leaving the spring of life and making for ourselves cracked cisterns that hold no water. We are taking the honored place at a table when the guest of honor is walking up to the front door.
But God wants to bring you to a table where living water flows freely. God wants to say to us “Friend, move up higher.” God wants to claim you and give you meaning and worth that cannot be taken away. God wants to give you the polish that will bring the luster back to the ring of our inheritance. And it happens right here—it happens at this table. And do you notice what we do before we come to this table? We begin with confession. Sir Thomas More said, “Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.” Yes, this is the root of Kingdom Life. This is life at the fountain of life. Paul tells the Corinthians,
“Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. 28Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” The response to God’s grace that is revealed to us in scripture is confession. Confession humbles the heart, and it prepares us to receive a place at the table.
Confession opens our ears and allows us to hear the invitation of God— If we are deafened by singing our own praises, we won’t hear God telling us, “Friend, move up higher.”
Sunday, August 26, 2007
August 26 Sermon--What's in a Name
Sermon Texts: Jeremiah and Luke
Today I adapted a sermon by Will Willemon to our particular context. If you would rather read his sermon, it can be found here.
Lara and I love pouring over names for our next child (no, this isn't an announcement, just a sermon illustration.) This is one of our favorite activities, although we rarely find a name that we can both agree on. Atticus Rex Mattox sounds great in my estimation, but it’s going to take some convincing.
All of us have friends who are hard to imagine with some other name. Some names conjure up definite pictures in all of our minds: Poindexter. Can you see him? He looks like a Poindexter. Grace. See her? She is her name. She is gracious, grace-filled. She is Grace. It’s like someone saw these people, got to know them, then said, “Yep, you should be called Poindexter.” But of course, that’s hardly ever the way it is with names. You get a name, then you grow to it. Maybe he’s Poindexter because that’s what he was given, and over time, he became as he was called. Poindexter. I think that’s the way it is with Grace. Grace. Probably too big, too high-sounding a name for a wild little girl romping about the house. But over time, she’s called Grace she became Grace, gracious, graceful. Grace. Rarely do we pick our names for ourselves. Our names pick us. Our parents give us our names. Other people bestow names upon us, and sometimes these names, these nicknames, are not at all the names we would have chosen for ourselves.
On the high school football team, everyone had to have a name — and I understand that it is this way even today: “Goofus,” “The Beast,” “Slim,” “Mad Dog,” “Timmy.” Sometimes the names were in loving jest, designating what we loved in a person. I just had a phone conversation this past week with a friend who’s getting his PhD at Duke whom we always called “Noodle” in college. Smart guy, that noodle, we’d say to ourselves in dorm meetings.
All through my life, every coach I’ve ever had has shortened my name to “Nate” instead of “Nathan.” That’s fine with me. My mom calls me “Natty Bumpo,” after the James Fenmore Cooper character, and telemarketers call me “Michael” and I promptly hang up on them. (They call me Michael because it’s my first name.) I suppose I look like a Matt, because I oftentimes am called Matt. Maybe people are just trying to remember that my last name has two tts instead of two dds. Yet there were other not so generous names — “Small Fry,” “Fatty, Fatty No Neck,” “Hunchback,” “Cripple,” “Ugly,” “Retard.” Sometimes these names represent our cruelty toward others, rather than our love.
I can remember
Can you feel that pain, do you know that pain, the pain of a name that hurts, traps, confines, cuts to the heart? It makes much difference how we are named. Today’s gospel is a story about a woman. In my Bible she is identified as “the bent woman.” How would you like to be immortalized in Scripture that way? She was bent over, had been bent over, staring at the ground, back terribly contorted, for many, many years. She doesn’t appear to have a name to anyone in town. When they saw her, creeping down the street, body bent, eyes attempting to lift up from the ground, they didn’t say “Here comes Mary,” or “Look, its Elizabeth.” They said, “Here comes the bent woman, the crippled woman.”
That was her name and in her name was her life, her destiny, her whole sad fate. Part of us may be a bit amused by the current attempts to speak of persons not by some of our traditional designations, such as “crippled,” “blind,” or “deaf,” but rather as “person with disabilities,” “persons with special needs,” “visually challenged person,” and so on. Surely this is a good attempt by persons who are different from the majority to name themselves, to gain some freedom from having the majority name them, label them, pigeonhole them and thus discriminate against them. The woman doesn’t have a name, other than the one given to her by the town, a name based upon her disability. She doesn’t have an identity other than that of a victim. She doesn’t have a family, it seems, no occupation, nothing other than her deformity. She is the one who is bent, stooped, bearing upon her shoulders an invisible yet very heavy burden, the burden of being different, the burden of not looking like everyone else, the burden of not being able to do what everyone else does. She is the crooked woman, the bent woman. She is there, I think, for everyone who is so named. She is “just a drunk,” or “retarded,” “slow,” “stupid,” “grossly overweight,” “blind as a bat,” “gimp.” She is encountered by Jesus. And how Jesus refers to her. Jesus heals her, and that’s wonderful. For the first time in her adult life, she is able to stand up straight, to look straight ahead, to be restored to what we call normalcy. But perhaps just as wonderful is the way Jesus speaks to her, what Jesus says about her. He does not call her disabled, or hindered, or a victim of life’s unfairness, though from most points of view, she is. Jesus seems to have no need in making her a professional victim, so that her disability defines her whole life. Rather, Jesus calls her “a daughter of Abraham.” I think that’s significant. This one whom we, even my Bible, calls the crooked woman, the bent woman, is called by Jesus a daughter of Abraham. What does that mean? Who was Abraham? Abraham was the great, great-granddaddy of Israel. Abraham was the one to whom, one starry night, a promise was given. God promised to make a great nation out of Abraham, a nation through which all the nations of the earth would be blessed. She is a daughter of Abraham. She is an heir to the blessings of God. Moreover, as a daughter of Abraham, she is called to be a blessing to the whole world. She is meant for more than superficial, cruel, limiting labeling. She, bent over though she is, is part of God’s great salvation of the whole world. She stands up straight. Even if her back had not been healed by Jesus, I think she would now have stood up straight. Her life had been caught up in God’s promises to the world. Her life had been renamed, not as a long story of injustice, victimization, and sadness, but as part of the great drama of God’s redemption. Let us therefore remember her, not as just one more sad victim, not as the woman with a bent back, but as a daughter of Abraham. Jesus means to name you. He will not let you acquiesce to the names the world wants to lay upon you. Our God knows us better than that. Our text from Jeremiah shows God speaking to Jeremiah and all of us, “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” You are daughters, sons of Abraham. You life is meant to count for something, to take its place on stage in God’s great drama of redemption. God says, “before you were born, I consecrated you.”
Therefore, in our church, when we baptize a baby, we ask what name has been given to the child. And then, though the parents may have named the child “Zane,” or “Wesley,” “Mollie,” or “Atticus,” we now lay on the child a much more determinative, revealing name — “Christian.” We predict that this child’s life will be long story of growing into that name, living into God’s gracious dreams for us. You also are a daughter or son of Abraham. Your name, whatever else we may call you, is “Christian.” Stand up straight, act like it, go in peace. Fred Craddock tells of meeting a man one day in a restaurant. “You a preacher?” the man asked. Somewhat embarrassed, Fred said, “Yes.” The man pulled a chair up to Fred’s table. “Preacher, I’ll tell you a story. There was once a little boy who grew up said. Life was tough because my mama had me but she had never been married. Do you know how a small Tennessee town treats people like that? Do you know the words they use to name kids that don’t have no father? “Well, we never went to church, nobody asked us. But for some reason or other, we went to church one night when they was having a revival. They had a big, tall preacher, visiting to do to the revival and he was all dressed in black. He had a thunderous voice that shook the little church. “We sat toward the back, Mama and me. Well, that preacher got to preaching, about what I don’t know, stalking up and down the aisle of that little church preaching. It was something. “After the service, we were slipping out the back door when I felt that big preacher’s hand on my shoulder. I was scared. He looked way down at me, looked me in the eye and says, ‘Boy, who’s your Daddy?’ “I didn’t have no Daddy. That’s what I told him in trembling voice, ‘I ain’t got no Daddy.’ “‘O yes you do,’ boomed that big preacher, ‘you’re a child of the Kingdom, you have been bought with a price, you are a child of the King!’ “I was never the same after that. Preacher, for God’s sake, preach that.” The man pulled his chair away from the table. He extended his hand and introduced himself. Craddock said the name rang a bell. He was Ben Hooper, the legendary former governor of the state of Tennessee.
Today I adapted a sermon by Will Willemon to our particular context. If you would rather read his sermon, it can be found here.
Lara and I love pouring over names for our next child (no, this isn't an announcement, just a sermon illustration.) This is one of our favorite activities, although we rarely find a name that we can both agree on. Atticus Rex Mattox sounds great in my estimation, but it’s going to take some convincing.
All of us have friends who are hard to imagine with some other name. Some names conjure up definite pictures in all of our minds: Poindexter. Can you see him? He looks like a Poindexter. Grace. See her? She is her name. She is gracious, grace-filled. She is Grace. It’s like someone saw these people, got to know them, then said, “Yep, you should be called Poindexter.” But of course, that’s hardly ever the way it is with names. You get a name, then you grow to it. Maybe he’s Poindexter because that’s what he was given, and over time, he became as he was called. Poindexter. I think that’s the way it is with Grace. Grace. Probably too big, too high-sounding a name for a wild little girl romping about the house. But over time, she’s called Grace she became Grace, gracious, graceful. Grace. Rarely do we pick our names for ourselves. Our names pick us. Our parents give us our names. Other people bestow names upon us, and sometimes these names, these nicknames, are not at all the names we would have chosen for ourselves.
On the high school football team, everyone had to have a name — and I understand that it is this way even today: “Goofus,” “The Beast,” “Slim,” “Mad Dog,” “Timmy.” Sometimes the names were in loving jest, designating what we loved in a person. I just had a phone conversation this past week with a friend who’s getting his PhD at Duke whom we always called “Noodle” in college. Smart guy, that noodle, we’d say to ourselves in dorm meetings.
All through my life, every coach I’ve ever had has shortened my name to “Nate” instead of “Nathan.” That’s fine with me. My mom calls me “Natty Bumpo,” after the James Fenmore Cooper character, and telemarketers call me “Michael” and I promptly hang up on them. (They call me Michael because it’s my first name.) I suppose I look like a Matt, because I oftentimes am called Matt. Maybe people are just trying to remember that my last name has two tts instead of two dds. Yet there were other not so generous names — “Small Fry,” “Fatty, Fatty No Neck,” “Hunchback,” “Cripple,” “Ugly,” “Retard.” Sometimes these names represent our cruelty toward others, rather than our love.
I can remember
Can you feel that pain, do you know that pain, the pain of a name that hurts, traps, confines, cuts to the heart? It makes much difference how we are named. Today’s gospel is a story about a woman. In my Bible she is identified as “the bent woman.” How would you like to be immortalized in Scripture that way? She was bent over, had been bent over, staring at the ground, back terribly contorted, for many, many years. She doesn’t appear to have a name to anyone in town. When they saw her, creeping down the street, body bent, eyes attempting to lift up from the ground, they didn’t say “Here comes Mary,” or “Look, its Elizabeth.” They said, “Here comes the bent woman, the crippled woman.”
That was her name and in her name was her life, her destiny, her whole sad fate. Part of us may be a bit amused by the current attempts to speak of persons not by some of our traditional designations, such as “crippled,” “blind,” or “deaf,” but rather as “person with disabilities,” “persons with special needs,” “visually challenged person,” and so on. Surely this is a good attempt by persons who are different from the majority to name themselves, to gain some freedom from having the majority name them, label them, pigeonhole them and thus discriminate against them. The woman doesn’t have a name, other than the one given to her by the town, a name based upon her disability. She doesn’t have an identity other than that of a victim. She doesn’t have a family, it seems, no occupation, nothing other than her deformity. She is the one who is bent, stooped, bearing upon her shoulders an invisible yet very heavy burden, the burden of being different, the burden of not looking like everyone else, the burden of not being able to do what everyone else does. She is the crooked woman, the bent woman. She is there, I think, for everyone who is so named. She is “just a drunk,” or “retarded,” “slow,” “stupid,” “grossly overweight,” “blind as a bat,” “gimp.” She is encountered by Jesus. And how Jesus refers to her. Jesus heals her, and that’s wonderful. For the first time in her adult life, she is able to stand up straight, to look straight ahead, to be restored to what we call normalcy. But perhaps just as wonderful is the way Jesus speaks to her, what Jesus says about her. He does not call her disabled, or hindered, or a victim of life’s unfairness, though from most points of view, she is. Jesus seems to have no need in making her a professional victim, so that her disability defines her whole life. Rather, Jesus calls her “a daughter of Abraham.” I think that’s significant. This one whom we, even my Bible, calls the crooked woman, the bent woman, is called by Jesus a daughter of Abraham. What does that mean? Who was Abraham? Abraham was the great, great-granddaddy of Israel. Abraham was the one to whom, one starry night, a promise was given. God promised to make a great nation out of Abraham, a nation through which all the nations of the earth would be blessed. She is a daughter of Abraham. She is an heir to the blessings of God. Moreover, as a daughter of Abraham, she is called to be a blessing to the whole world. She is meant for more than superficial, cruel, limiting labeling. She, bent over though she is, is part of God’s great salvation of the whole world. She stands up straight. Even if her back had not been healed by Jesus, I think she would now have stood up straight. Her life had been caught up in God’s promises to the world. Her life had been renamed, not as a long story of injustice, victimization, and sadness, but as part of the great drama of God’s redemption. Let us therefore remember her, not as just one more sad victim, not as the woman with a bent back, but as a daughter of Abraham. Jesus means to name you. He will not let you acquiesce to the names the world wants to lay upon you. Our God knows us better than that. Our text from Jeremiah shows God speaking to Jeremiah and all of us, “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” You are daughters, sons of Abraham. You life is meant to count for something, to take its place on stage in God’s great drama of redemption. God says, “before you were born, I consecrated you.”
Therefore, in our church, when we baptize a baby, we ask what name has been given to the child. And then, though the parents may have named the child “Zane,” or “Wesley,” “Mollie,” or “Atticus,” we now lay on the child a much more determinative, revealing name — “Christian.” We predict that this child’s life will be long story of growing into that name, living into God’s gracious dreams for us. You also are a daughter or son of Abraham. Your name, whatever else we may call you, is “Christian.” Stand up straight, act like it, go in peace. Fred Craddock tells of meeting a man one day in a restaurant. “You a preacher?” the man asked. Somewhat embarrassed, Fred said, “Yes.” The man pulled a chair up to Fred’s table. “Preacher, I’ll tell you a story. There was once a little boy who grew up said. Life was tough because my mama had me but she had never been married. Do you know how a small Tennessee town treats people like that? Do you know the words they use to name kids that don’t have no father? “Well, we never went to church, nobody asked us. But for some reason or other, we went to church one night when they was having a revival. They had a big, tall preacher, visiting to do to the revival and he was all dressed in black. He had a thunderous voice that shook the little church. “We sat toward the back, Mama and me. Well, that preacher got to preaching, about what I don’t know, stalking up and down the aisle of that little church preaching. It was something. “After the service, we were slipping out the back door when I felt that big preacher’s hand on my shoulder. I was scared. He looked way down at me, looked me in the eye and says, ‘Boy, who’s your Daddy?’ “I didn’t have no Daddy. That’s what I told him in trembling voice, ‘I ain’t got no Daddy.’ “‘O yes you do,’ boomed that big preacher, ‘you’re a child of the Kingdom, you have been bought with a price, you are a child of the King!’ “I was never the same after that. Preacher, for God’s sake, preach that.” The man pulled his chair away from the table. He extended his hand and introduced himself. Craddock said the name rang a bell. He was Ben Hooper, the legendary former governor of the state of Tennessee.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Photos from baptisms at the Disciples of Christ Church
Today, Bayjou, Tori, and Kassi were baptized, and Mollie was confirmed. Congrats girls. Thanks to the Chrisitan church (DOC) for letting us use their baptistry.
Confirmation Day sermon
Texts: from Hebrews and Luke
It is always interesting to me to look at the scriptures that the lectionary offers us when I have planned something out of sync with the customary time frame. Confirmations are usually celebrated on Easter or on Pentecost, not in the middle of the summer. But for us, this is the season for confirmation, and we today celebrate the decisions of these 4 young people to take vows of professing membership in the church.
The scriptures today seem an odd choice for such a festive occasion, and I suppose they are a choice, because I could have easily picked out something else and gone off the lectionary today to find some more “appropriate” texts to focus us on the things at hand, but the lectionary texts are there to challenge preachers to apply the text to the context, and that’s what I feel led by the Spirit to do.
What are we professing? “Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin? Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?” Christ assures us that making this pledge doesn’t always win us friends and make us popular. Today’s Gospel passage gives us pause. You may have wondered, “who is speaking here? Is it Jesus? “I did not come to bring peace to the Earth, but division?” But what about the angels calling him “Prince of Peace” at his birth? What are you getting at Jesus?
Christ is telling his followers and his listeners that things aren’t going to be easy because we become followers. In many cases they become harder. It sometimes creates divisions, even ripping the fabric of the household, when we truly follow Christ and take a stand for him in the world.
I had colleagues in seminary who were practically disowned by disappointed parents when they chose to go into the ministry. Jesus didn’t write the book “How to win friends and influence people.” He writes the “Book of Life,” and sometimes life, Real life, is threatening to our comforts of home and the status quo.
“Resisting evil” has been Hollywoodized in our mental perceptions. Resisting evil may conjure images of standing up against the fiery, scary, repulsive, and unabashedly hateful powers of Hell. While evil can be all of these things, we take vows to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Don’t forget that what you pledge to resist can oftentimes seem very comfortable, it can seem glamorous. It wouldn’t be very tempting if it weren’t.
Part of resisting evil is resisting temptation. Our gospels tell the story of evil presenting itself to Jesus as power, glory, and “easy street.” Pray for the faith of Christ and the wisdom to discern when God is offering you rest and when Evil is masquerading as good. If “good things” are distracting you from the Love of God and neighbor, if your Spirit feels drowsy, then you have probably fallen into the trap of temptation. But you can always climb out if you ask God to throw you a rope.
Author of Hebrews speaks about those who have been victorious and those who have suffered with equal admiration. He ascribes faith to both of the groups. Faith does not keep us from suffering, sometimes having faith makes us a target for suffering.
But we do have comfort in the “cloud of witnesses.” There is a reason why the congregation responds to each of these young people who profess their faith. There is a reason we ask parents and sponsors and friends to come and surround each person as they kneel and we invoke the Spirit’s presence and activity in their lives. It is because the cloud of witnesses is alive and present! It is real, not just a name!
Hebrews speaks about the generations upon generations who have exemplified the faith that is the “assurance of things hoped for, and the conviction of things unseen.” The Bible contains stories of the called who have professed the faith over the centuries. These stories can lift us up when we are faltering. The cloud of witnesses include our loved ones who have run the race before us, and the people of our faith story who shape the present with the record of the experience of God in the past.
And what is it that we are all called to do? Lay aside every weight and Put aside that sin that clings so closely. Put it aside because it’s not the real you! It’s not the clothes of the children of God! I told the confirmands that the way the early church practiced baptism was to take off every stitch of clothing and come down into the waters. This symbolized this very real notion that we do lay aside that weight and that sin, and when we are reborn out of the waters of baptism, we are as naked and new and blameless as that newborn coming from the waters of her mother’s womb.
Early Christians would then come up out of the water and stomp on their old clothing to symbolize their disregard for the previous life, and then would receive new white robes. The new white robes evoked “putting on Christ,” as Paul speaks so eloquently about in his letters. This almost always occurred on midnight of Easter Eve, when the church watched and waited and celebrated the New Creation that was inaugurated upon Christ’s resurrection from Death itself.
So, we take off the weight of sin and run with perseverance the race. Don’t give up when you get out of breath. Push through the cramps in your guts and keep running. Get outside yourself and understand that you are running for the glory of Christ. Your faith is a testament to the triumph of love over hate, forgiveness over revenge, God over evil.
Running with perseverance the race that is set before us: When we profess our faith and pledge our allegiance to Jesus Christ, we boldly step forward into a future unknown by us with the assurance that what we hope for awaits us if not before, at least at the end of our journey. We may hope for health, wealth, and peace—and for some that is the race that is set before them. For others, it is not. Jesus speaks to that reality in the gospel lesson today.
For some, following Christ down the path set before us may mean poverty, oppression, and division. But faith can be exemplified in both paths—and the stories in our Bible lift up examples of both. In everything, God may be glorified, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.
looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. I’ve never liked running. I can recall running for football and tennis when I was in high school. I don’t know if I’ve run since then (unless it has been running to catch an airplane). Running isn’t pleasant for me. But there are those who crave the “runner’s high.” They love the feeling of pushing through the pain and feeling the rush of endorphins that our body injects into our bloodstream to keep us going.
Hebrews speaks about the vision of Christ in his glory as that kind of “runner’s high.” This vision keeps us going even when we encounter difficulty and division along the way. Can you see Jesus? Can you see him bearing the cross ahead of us? Can you see him being lifted up in glory? Can you follow on the race set before you?
It is always interesting to me to look at the scriptures that the lectionary offers us when I have planned something out of sync with the customary time frame. Confirmations are usually celebrated on Easter or on Pentecost, not in the middle of the summer. But for us, this is the season for confirmation, and we today celebrate the decisions of these 4 young people to take vows of professing membership in the church.
The scriptures today seem an odd choice for such a festive occasion, and I suppose they are a choice, because I could have easily picked out something else and gone off the lectionary today to find some more “appropriate” texts to focus us on the things at hand, but the lectionary texts are there to challenge preachers to apply the text to the context, and that’s what I feel led by the Spirit to do.
What are we professing? “Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin? Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?” Christ assures us that making this pledge doesn’t always win us friends and make us popular. Today’s Gospel passage gives us pause. You may have wondered, “who is speaking here? Is it Jesus? “I did not come to bring peace to the Earth, but division?” But what about the angels calling him “Prince of Peace” at his birth? What are you getting at Jesus?
Christ is telling his followers and his listeners that things aren’t going to be easy because we become followers. In many cases they become harder. It sometimes creates divisions, even ripping the fabric of the household, when we truly follow Christ and take a stand for him in the world.
I had colleagues in seminary who were practically disowned by disappointed parents when they chose to go into the ministry. Jesus didn’t write the book “How to win friends and influence people.” He writes the “Book of Life,” and sometimes life, Real life, is threatening to our comforts of home and the status quo.
“Resisting evil” has been Hollywoodized in our mental perceptions. Resisting evil may conjure images of standing up against the fiery, scary, repulsive, and unabashedly hateful powers of Hell. While evil can be all of these things, we take vows to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Don’t forget that what you pledge to resist can oftentimes seem very comfortable, it can seem glamorous. It wouldn’t be very tempting if it weren’t.
Part of resisting evil is resisting temptation. Our gospels tell the story of evil presenting itself to Jesus as power, glory, and “easy street.” Pray for the faith of Christ and the wisdom to discern when God is offering you rest and when Evil is masquerading as good. If “good things” are distracting you from the Love of God and neighbor, if your Spirit feels drowsy, then you have probably fallen into the trap of temptation. But you can always climb out if you ask God to throw you a rope.
Author of Hebrews speaks about those who have been victorious and those who have suffered with equal admiration. He ascribes faith to both of the groups. Faith does not keep us from suffering, sometimes having faith makes us a target for suffering.
But we do have comfort in the “cloud of witnesses.” There is a reason why the congregation responds to each of these young people who profess their faith. There is a reason we ask parents and sponsors and friends to come and surround each person as they kneel and we invoke the Spirit’s presence and activity in their lives. It is because the cloud of witnesses is alive and present! It is real, not just a name!
Hebrews speaks about the generations upon generations who have exemplified the faith that is the “assurance of things hoped for, and the conviction of things unseen.” The Bible contains stories of the called who have professed the faith over the centuries. These stories can lift us up when we are faltering. The cloud of witnesses include our loved ones who have run the race before us, and the people of our faith story who shape the present with the record of the experience of God in the past.
And what is it that we are all called to do? Lay aside every weight and Put aside that sin that clings so closely. Put it aside because it’s not the real you! It’s not the clothes of the children of God! I told the confirmands that the way the early church practiced baptism was to take off every stitch of clothing and come down into the waters. This symbolized this very real notion that we do lay aside that weight and that sin, and when we are reborn out of the waters of baptism, we are as naked and new and blameless as that newborn coming from the waters of her mother’s womb.
Early Christians would then come up out of the water and stomp on their old clothing to symbolize their disregard for the previous life, and then would receive new white robes. The new white robes evoked “putting on Christ,” as Paul speaks so eloquently about in his letters. This almost always occurred on midnight of Easter Eve, when the church watched and waited and celebrated the New Creation that was inaugurated upon Christ’s resurrection from Death itself.
So, we take off the weight of sin and run with perseverance the race. Don’t give up when you get out of breath. Push through the cramps in your guts and keep running. Get outside yourself and understand that you are running for the glory of Christ. Your faith is a testament to the triumph of love over hate, forgiveness over revenge, God over evil.
Running with perseverance the race that is set before us: When we profess our faith and pledge our allegiance to Jesus Christ, we boldly step forward into a future unknown by us with the assurance that what we hope for awaits us if not before, at least at the end of our journey. We may hope for health, wealth, and peace—and for some that is the race that is set before them. For others, it is not. Jesus speaks to that reality in the gospel lesson today.
For some, following Christ down the path set before us may mean poverty, oppression, and division. But faith can be exemplified in both paths—and the stories in our Bible lift up examples of both. In everything, God may be glorified, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.
looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. I’ve never liked running. I can recall running for football and tennis when I was in high school. I don’t know if I’ve run since then (unless it has been running to catch an airplane). Running isn’t pleasant for me. But there are those who crave the “runner’s high.” They love the feeling of pushing through the pain and feeling the rush of endorphins that our body injects into our bloodstream to keep us going.
Hebrews speaks about the vision of Christ in his glory as that kind of “runner’s high.” This vision keeps us going even when we encounter difficulty and division along the way. Can you see Jesus? Can you see him bearing the cross ahead of us? Can you see him being lifted up in glory? Can you follow on the race set before you?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Should I be baptized again?
As I am preparing to baptize some of our youth this Sunday by immersion (my first time to do so--we will meet at 10am at the Disciples of Christ Church on 3rd st), I wandered across this great article relating to baptism.
Those in our neck of the woods who were baptized as infants have likely been questioned about that practice and have perhaps even doubted the validity of our own baptism because of the seemingly airtight arguments of those who disagree with infant baptism. If you've ever found yourself wondering "well, should I be baptized again?," the author of this article makes a pretty strong case for the historical and theological "defense" of infant baptism. It is written by an Orthodox priest, and has many scriptural and historical warrants for infant baptism. We also have an excellent resource ( a bit longer ) linked on our sidebar on the United Methodist Undertanding of Baptism called "By Water and the Spirit."
Enjoy.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Aug. 12 Sermon: A hand in the Dark
Scriptures:
Psalm 50
Luke 12:32-40
Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16
Recently I was delighted to receive a question on Myspace from one of our youth. The question was so earnest—it filled me with joy that I am the minister of this congregation, and I get to engage in these kinds of conversations. It read:
From Jessica
“Faith, it's easy to explain the grace of God to people that have faith already...but what about the people that can't see anything but bad in the world and wonder where God is to do something about it. Of course, its a very cliche question but it is so common because its a question nobody can truly answer. But you have somewhat touched on you thoughts over the situation but never had the opportunity to go into further detail. I would just like some scriptures and verses to help with my journey.”
I commend Jessica for taking time to formulate and ask the question, for taking the time to think about sharing her faith, and for struggling with the very real call that is given to each of us who profess to be members of the Body of Christ to share what it means to have faith with our neighbors.
I share it with you today because I believe our selection from the Hebrews really enhances it. Faith: how to explain it. The first verse from Hebrews gives us something to start with, something to orient us in this pursuit. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Let’s say it together:
Faith is a way of seeing. St. Augustine put it perfectly. He said, "To have faith is to believe what you can't see and the reward of faith is to see what you believe." Isn’t that a beautiful way to think about faith? Paul talked about “seeing with the eyes of our hearts.” This is the same concept. Though the world may seem ugly and malicious and scary, faith is the “assurance of things hoped for.”
Faith is linked to hope, but faith and hope are distinct qualities. Hope is what Emily Dickenson called "the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." George Iles knew hope as “faith holding out its hand in the dark.” And Bern Williams claimed that “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring."
Yes, we can become romantic about hope. It is a wonderful thing. Hope, though, can be elusive. It is a state of mind which can be wrenched out of us. Without faith, it can fly out of our souls as easily as it perched there. It can go unfed and whither. George Eliot said that "What we call despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.”
While hope may be a what Emily Dickenson called "the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." Faith is the words that fit the tune perfectly. While “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring,” faith, as the assurance of what is hoped for, is the act of planting the summer harvest. Indeed, hope is “faith holding out its hand in the dark,” and faith is the “confirmation of things unseen.”
There’s a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade that elaborates this idea pretty plainly.
When I was young, I had an incredible belief in the unseen.
I believed that every night, aliens were standing right outside my window, trying to peak through the blinds. I remember calling out to my mom, much like Wesley now does with us, to come quick because there were monsters in the closet. My parents would lovingly walk over to the closet, open it, and turn on the closet light and look around. “No, son, there aren’t any monsters here!”
I remember being mystified about how brave my parents were to so boldly walk over to the closet and open the door to inspect the closet. I had a firm belief in things unseen. But it was my parents who were exemplifying faith. You see, their action, their boldness was a “confirmation” that the closet didn’t contain any monsters. Their willingness to open the door without any fear of monsters coming out and devouring them alive was an assurance of what I deeply hoped for—that monsters weren’t really in the closet after all! You see, fear and faith don’t occupy the same zip code. If I’m afraid of things unseen, I’ve just got an overactive imagination. But if the unseen gives me confidence and hope and boldness, then my faith is a confirmation or proof of the existence and goodness of the unseen.
So, if we are contemplating our faith in grace, as Jessica was, we might look at the lives of those who have faith in grace and see how it compares to those lives lived without faith in grace. Some people orient their faith life around the notion of God’s wrath. What kinds of lives do we see lived in those circumstances?
I have known people who orient themselves in this direction, and I have found them to be full of fear or spitefulness. An over-emphasis of the wrath of God in our faith life turns us into little children quivering under our blankets, afraid of the monsters in the closet. They either turn God into that monster, and are at their core afraid of God, or they turn those people they believe earn God’s wrath into that monster in the closet and live with a heavy reproach and torment in their souls.
If our faith is a reflection of God, then that kind of faith doesn’t reflect God: perhaps we are worshipping something else. That is a faith of fear. There is no fear in God’s wrath. God’s wrath is born of a deep seeded concern for justice for the widow and the orphan, the poor and oppressed. Dare I say that this is not typically the concern of our contemporaries who put a put an emphasis on the wrath of God?
I like to witness lives of faith that are molded by the deep conviction in God’s grace. In my opinion, that faith is a proof of God’s unseen grace. That faith is the essence of what is hoped for. That faith mirrors God’s love and generosity and forgiveness and transformative power. Those are the kinds of people who are just magnetic. Their faith is a great joy to carry, not a burden on their backs. Why live in a way when you have to go around carrying all that scorn? Is that what God created our hearts to do?
You know how it is when a young couple falls in love. Jack and Jill. Some of the old gossips say over their bridge cards, "I don't know what he sees in her," or "I don't know what she sees him." They are absolutely right. They don't know, but Jack knows. He sees in Jill the fulfillment of the ideal of womanhood and she sees in him a very wonderful man. There has been nobody like him ever. Who is right, the old gossips or Jack and Jill?
William James once gave his attention to that question. He said, "It's Jack and Jill who are right, and for this reason, they are right because love and trust and openness reveal what suspicion and hostility and cynicism will hide."
Perhaps this is another way to get inside this “conviction in things unseen:” Do you believe in the wind? I do! I “see the wind” because I can see and feel and hear it move things. I see and hear it rustle the leaves in the sweetgums outside my window. I feel it when I’m riding my bike around town. I have faith in the wind (and in Oklahoma, that’s not hard to do).
I believe in the Holy Wind—the invisible Holy Spirit, because I can see and hear and feel it move things as well! I have witnessed it move people to act charitably when you would expect them to respond with anger or vengeance. I have heard it when I have read inspired words or heard inspired music. I have felt it urge me to respond to the world around me by reflecting God’s grace.
The Psalm we heard today says God “speaks to and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting.” Do you hear that? Do you hear the summons? The Psalmist is expressing the ever-present-ness of our God. Here we witness a testament to God’s closeness, to the majesty of God’s presence. Yet, it happens all day, every day! God doesn’t keep silence, around him are things as inconspicuous as fires and storms. If we open our eyes to the unseen, perhaps we will see the illumining fire. Perhaps we will see Christ in “the least of these,” perhaps we will see the Divine face in a flower or a tree or a thunderhead or a neighbor. Perhaps we will see God’s provision in the neat haybales and the produce section of the grocery store. Perhaps we will live with faith and trust.
So, as Jesus told his disciples, be attentive! Watch with hope and excitement for the return of our master. Keep the house clean and ready to celebrate. Don’t fall asleep with your faith. Don’t be lazy with your spiritual life! Don’t settle for the treasure that will eventually tarnish and rot. Don’t become distracted by the empty calories that leave us feeling full only for a while. Seek the fullness of God! Cultivate your spirits as carefully as do your careers. I believe that this opportunity I have mentioned with the covenant discipleship groups is one method to be attentive to our Spiritual lives. By tuning in to the pulse of faith, we will become instruments of God’s grace and love. We will become proof of things unseen. We are reaching out for that hand in the dark. Keep your faith stirred up and fresh. It is the essence of all we hope for. It is the proof of things unseen. Don’t hide it under a bushel! Let it shine God’s sunlight into all you say and do. Let it reflect God’s grace into a world that needs love.
Psalm 50
Luke 12:32-40
Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16
Recently I was delighted to receive a question on Myspace from one of our youth. The question was so earnest—it filled me with joy that I am the minister of this congregation, and I get to engage in these kinds of conversations. It read:
From Jessica
“Faith, it's easy to explain the grace of God to people that have faith already...but what about the people that can't see anything but bad in the world and wonder where God is to do something about it. Of course, its a very cliche question but it is so common because its a question nobody can truly answer. But you have somewhat touched on you thoughts over the situation but never had the opportunity to go into further detail. I would just like some scriptures and verses to help with my journey.”
I commend Jessica for taking time to formulate and ask the question, for taking the time to think about sharing her faith, and for struggling with the very real call that is given to each of us who profess to be members of the Body of Christ to share what it means to have faith with our neighbors.
I share it with you today because I believe our selection from the Hebrews really enhances it. Faith: how to explain it. The first verse from Hebrews gives us something to start with, something to orient us in this pursuit. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Let’s say it together:
Faith is a way of seeing. St. Augustine put it perfectly. He said, "To have faith is to believe what you can't see and the reward of faith is to see what you believe." Isn’t that a beautiful way to think about faith? Paul talked about “seeing with the eyes of our hearts.” This is the same concept. Though the world may seem ugly and malicious and scary, faith is the “assurance of things hoped for.”
Faith is linked to hope, but faith and hope are distinct qualities. Hope is what Emily Dickenson called "the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." George Iles knew hope as “faith holding out its hand in the dark.” And Bern Williams claimed that “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring."
Yes, we can become romantic about hope. It is a wonderful thing. Hope, though, can be elusive. It is a state of mind which can be wrenched out of us. Without faith, it can fly out of our souls as easily as it perched there. It can go unfed and whither. George Eliot said that "What we call despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.”
While hope may be a what Emily Dickenson called "the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all." Faith is the words that fit the tune perfectly. While “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring,” faith, as the assurance of what is hoped for, is the act of planting the summer harvest. Indeed, hope is “faith holding out its hand in the dark,” and faith is the “confirmation of things unseen.”
There’s a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade that elaborates this idea pretty plainly.
When I was young, I had an incredible belief in the unseen.
I believed that every night, aliens were standing right outside my window, trying to peak through the blinds. I remember calling out to my mom, much like Wesley now does with us, to come quick because there were monsters in the closet. My parents would lovingly walk over to the closet, open it, and turn on the closet light and look around. “No, son, there aren’t any monsters here!”
I remember being mystified about how brave my parents were to so boldly walk over to the closet and open the door to inspect the closet. I had a firm belief in things unseen. But it was my parents who were exemplifying faith. You see, their action, their boldness was a “confirmation” that the closet didn’t contain any monsters. Their willingness to open the door without any fear of monsters coming out and devouring them alive was an assurance of what I deeply hoped for—that monsters weren’t really in the closet after all! You see, fear and faith don’t occupy the same zip code. If I’m afraid of things unseen, I’ve just got an overactive imagination. But if the unseen gives me confidence and hope and boldness, then my faith is a confirmation or proof of the existence and goodness of the unseen.
So, if we are contemplating our faith in grace, as Jessica was, we might look at the lives of those who have faith in grace and see how it compares to those lives lived without faith in grace. Some people orient their faith life around the notion of God’s wrath. What kinds of lives do we see lived in those circumstances?
I have known people who orient themselves in this direction, and I have found them to be full of fear or spitefulness. An over-emphasis of the wrath of God in our faith life turns us into little children quivering under our blankets, afraid of the monsters in the closet. They either turn God into that monster, and are at their core afraid of God, or they turn those people they believe earn God’s wrath into that monster in the closet and live with a heavy reproach and torment in their souls.
If our faith is a reflection of God, then that kind of faith doesn’t reflect God: perhaps we are worshipping something else. That is a faith of fear. There is no fear in God’s wrath. God’s wrath is born of a deep seeded concern for justice for the widow and the orphan, the poor and oppressed. Dare I say that this is not typically the concern of our contemporaries who put a put an emphasis on the wrath of God?
I like to witness lives of faith that are molded by the deep conviction in God’s grace. In my opinion, that faith is a proof of God’s unseen grace. That faith is the essence of what is hoped for. That faith mirrors God’s love and generosity and forgiveness and transformative power. Those are the kinds of people who are just magnetic. Their faith is a great joy to carry, not a burden on their backs. Why live in a way when you have to go around carrying all that scorn? Is that what God created our hearts to do?
You know how it is when a young couple falls in love. Jack and Jill. Some of the old gossips say over their bridge cards, "I don't know what he sees in her," or "I don't know what she sees him." They are absolutely right. They don't know, but Jack knows. He sees in Jill the fulfillment of the ideal of womanhood and she sees in him a very wonderful man. There has been nobody like him ever. Who is right, the old gossips or Jack and Jill?
William James once gave his attention to that question. He said, "It's Jack and Jill who are right, and for this reason, they are right because love and trust and openness reveal what suspicion and hostility and cynicism will hide."
Perhaps this is another way to get inside this “conviction in things unseen:” Do you believe in the wind? I do! I “see the wind” because I can see and feel and hear it move things. I see and hear it rustle the leaves in the sweetgums outside my window. I feel it when I’m riding my bike around town. I have faith in the wind (and in Oklahoma, that’s not hard to do).
I believe in the Holy Wind—the invisible Holy Spirit, because I can see and hear and feel it move things as well! I have witnessed it move people to act charitably when you would expect them to respond with anger or vengeance. I have heard it when I have read inspired words or heard inspired music. I have felt it urge me to respond to the world around me by reflecting God’s grace.
The Psalm we heard today says God “speaks to and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting.” Do you hear that? Do you hear the summons? The Psalmist is expressing the ever-present-ness of our God. Here we witness a testament to God’s closeness, to the majesty of God’s presence. Yet, it happens all day, every day! God doesn’t keep silence, around him are things as inconspicuous as fires and storms. If we open our eyes to the unseen, perhaps we will see the illumining fire. Perhaps we will see Christ in “the least of these,” perhaps we will see the Divine face in a flower or a tree or a thunderhead or a neighbor. Perhaps we will see God’s provision in the neat haybales and the produce section of the grocery store. Perhaps we will live with faith and trust.
So, as Jesus told his disciples, be attentive! Watch with hope and excitement for the return of our master. Keep the house clean and ready to celebrate. Don’t fall asleep with your faith. Don’t be lazy with your spiritual life! Don’t settle for the treasure that will eventually tarnish and rot. Don’t become distracted by the empty calories that leave us feeling full only for a while. Seek the fullness of God! Cultivate your spirits as carefully as do your careers. I believe that this opportunity I have mentioned with the covenant discipleship groups is one method to be attentive to our Spiritual lives. By tuning in to the pulse of faith, we will become instruments of God’s grace and love. We will become proof of things unseen. We are reaching out for that hand in the dark. Keep your faith stirred up and fresh. It is the essence of all we hope for. It is the proof of things unseen. Don’t hide it under a bushel! Let it shine God’s sunlight into all you say and do. Let it reflect God’s grace into a world that needs love.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
Our new storage building!
Here's our new storage building our trustees have been working hard to prepare for....
Aug 5 sermon: Dangers of a Bigger Barn
I had planned on avoiding this gospel passage for a while, what with our building project that we just finished and everything. But then, I came home from the mission project and looked at the scriptures, and there it was in the lectionary. Oops! Maybe we’re meant to wrestle with it!
We all know that rich fool don’t we? The rich fool has made quite an impact in our culture! We live in a world where he is preaching his message to a captive audience. I say a captive audience because many of us are trapped in a cycle of consumerism. We buy to make us feel better after something goes wrong. We buy to show affection. After the devastating events of 9/11, some of the first words out of George Bush’s and Rudy Giuliani’s mouths were—“Eat out, go shopping, catch a play, go on a trip, go to Disneyworld.” It is almost as if the grief and fear that Americans felt that day ran the risk of disrupting our programming—which has carefully conditioned us to buy when the going is good, and to buy when the going gets tough.
Whereas humans used to memorize love sonnets or Biblical passages, now we inadvertently memorize commercial taglines. (Example?) This mentality is so pervasive in our culture, that a subversive group called Adbusters, which utilizes the techniques of consumerism to sabatoge consumerism (they call it “culture jamming”) has launched “National Buy Nothing Day!” (Each year on Nov. 26). The timing of Buy Nothing day is not accidental—Adbusters paid attention to the dictum of “killing a snake by cutting off its head” by attacking the biggest consumer spending day of the year.
First we sit around a table and enjoy the God of communion and family—the God of the hearth: and then we go to the malls to pay tribute to our National God—Consumption! You can’t serve two masters? Pshaw, I’m an American—I can have it both ways if I feel like it! The two masters duke it out on Nov. 22nd and 23rd.
In this corner, we have we have the God of Thanksgiving: the Spirit of community, sharing, putting aside differences, changing leaves, and naps in front of a fire after Turkey dinner—and in this corner: we have the God of 25% off sales, new shoes when your old ones work just fine, disposable everything, and crowded parking lots---You know who I’m talking about the Great Mammon! Lets get ready to rumble!!!!
It couldn’t be more poetically ironic that these two days rub shoulders. Its actually no accident at all—it was some smart advertiser figuring out that all those families would be easy prey—Day 1, families get together and try to get along for a few hours so grandpa can cut the turkey and mom can fuss about the stuffing being too dry like she does every year. By Day 2, said family is ready for a break from each other—so kick open the doors to the mall with fanfare and tell people there’s only a month to spend your brains out so you can show the same family how much you love them as a reflection of God’s gift to humanity on Christmas.
The rich fool is affirming our preconceived notions of greatness in accumulation. We are encouraged to build bigger and bigger barns to store our surplus of goods. The problem is that once we get that bigger barn, more stuff comes along that we end up needing to store. I wonder how many cultures in the world have a thriving industry built on the principle of building a lot of empty spaces for people to come and “store” their unused stuff that they bought the day after Thanksgiving. Not only do we have too much stuff to occupy our time in our homes, we have to rent space outside our homes to put all our unused stuff in.
What are we hoping to do by accumulating all of this stuff? The New Interpreters Bible Commentary points out that “Until the voice of God interrupts the fool’s reverie, there is nothing in the story but the man and his possessions. His goods and prosperity have become the sole pursuit of his life, until finally the poverty of his abundance is exposed. Thus the parable plunges the hearer into a searching reflection on the meaning of life. WE may declare “whoever has the most toys when he dies wins,” but the parable exposes the emptiness of such a life style.”
The rich fool’s sin is a preoccupation with possessions. One can almost smell the unnecessary sawdust in the air as God balks at the rich man’s bright, shiny new barns. The sweat on the rich fool’s brow must’ve turned ice cold when God leveled him with the sentence: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” The New Interpreters Bible commentary points out that the verb used here is literally a third-person plural: “they will demand” The subject is unstated. Probably the verb should be understood as a plural used in place of a divine passive: God will demand the man’s soul. But lurking as an alternative is the possibility that the antecedent is none other than the man’s goods themselves. His possessions will take his life from him. Then whose will they be? He presumed all along that he could hoard the bounty of the harvest for himself, but now whose will they be?
The rich man is utterly alone. His aloneness is accentuated by Jesus in this story by the fact that the man talks to himself. The rich fool is not only preoccupied with possessions, but he also exemplifies the foolishness of the Security in Self-sufficiency. This rich fool doesn’t need anyone else. He can provide for himself. He doesn’t look for security in the love of family or friends, or God’s love.
Many of us fall prey to this same Prideful inclination to think we can make it on our own. We call it “looking out for #1.” Sometimes this security in self-sufficiency mutates into the “grip of greed.” As Pink Floyd sang, “Money, Get back—I’m all right Jack, keep your hands off of my stack!” Our focus on our own needs becomes an obsession.
Here’s the good news and the bad news: we really can’t serve two masters! Jesus is trying to expand his listeners’ ideas about wealth and about what it is important to pursue in this life. He says, “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the accumulation of possessions.”
Jesus is on a mission to save souls—he looks on the other side of the boxing ring—and he sees an enemy in Mammon. In this parable, Jesus confronts the human need for material gratification. Jesus wants us to pay attention to the here and now, and the encounters with God that are possible if we open our eyes to a more significant reality than the reality that is shoveled down our throats in this consumer culture.
Paul echoes the concern when he advises the Colossians to “set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” Paul speaks quite clearly about “putting to death those things within us that are earthly, such as greed,” which Paul further describes as idolatry. Jesus and Paul are cautioning us about letting our “possessions” possess us.
Fortunately, the God that calls the man in the parable a “fool” is doing so because He wants that man to wake up to the true essence of life—the things that make us “rich toward God.” God wants us to be truly wealthy, and Jesus is here to tell us how to achieve that wealth: we can “strive for the Kingdom of Heaven.” Avoiding the greed that so often comes with material wealth is a key to this Kingdom and is a freeing experience.
There is a story about a news interview with a man who lost his home in the fires in S. Cal. Recalling that his brother had recently mused that they should be careful not to allow their possessions to possess them, this man who had just seen everything he owned burn to the ground announced to the reporter with a note of unexpected triumph “I am a free man now!”
Fortunately for us, the parable is given to us to help us know the Kingdom of God will not be built with barns full of self. The Kingdom of God is in small, humble things like mustard seeds and yeast. Whereas shiny new barns brimming full satisfy the self and the self only—mustard seeds and yeast are small to our eyes, but God sees their potential as transformative. Humanity responds to “sure things” like accumulation, and God works with the possibilities of something we might not think worth accumulating.
It is at this table of communion that God seeks to meet us and show us that the things we may sometimes dismiss, such as bread and wine, may in fact hold the divine presence. A loaf of bread and about half a bottle of Welch’s grape juice, totaling about $4, is where God renews us and shapes us and meets us. These are the things of heaven. These are the things that should occupy our hearts.
We all know that rich fool don’t we? The rich fool has made quite an impact in our culture! We live in a world where he is preaching his message to a captive audience. I say a captive audience because many of us are trapped in a cycle of consumerism. We buy to make us feel better after something goes wrong. We buy to show affection. After the devastating events of 9/11, some of the first words out of George Bush’s and Rudy Giuliani’s mouths were—“Eat out, go shopping, catch a play, go on a trip, go to Disneyworld.” It is almost as if the grief and fear that Americans felt that day ran the risk of disrupting our programming—which has carefully conditioned us to buy when the going is good, and to buy when the going gets tough.
Whereas humans used to memorize love sonnets or Biblical passages, now we inadvertently memorize commercial taglines. (Example?) This mentality is so pervasive in our culture, that a subversive group called Adbusters, which utilizes the techniques of consumerism to sabatoge consumerism (they call it “culture jamming”) has launched “National Buy Nothing Day!” (Each year on Nov. 26). The timing of Buy Nothing day is not accidental—Adbusters paid attention to the dictum of “killing a snake by cutting off its head” by attacking the biggest consumer spending day of the year.
First we sit around a table and enjoy the God of communion and family—the God of the hearth: and then we go to the malls to pay tribute to our National God—Consumption! You can’t serve two masters? Pshaw, I’m an American—I can have it both ways if I feel like it! The two masters duke it out on Nov. 22nd and 23rd.
In this corner, we have we have the God of Thanksgiving: the Spirit of community, sharing, putting aside differences, changing leaves, and naps in front of a fire after Turkey dinner—and in this corner: we have the God of 25% off sales, new shoes when your old ones work just fine, disposable everything, and crowded parking lots---You know who I’m talking about the Great Mammon! Lets get ready to rumble!!!!
It couldn’t be more poetically ironic that these two days rub shoulders. Its actually no accident at all—it was some smart advertiser figuring out that all those families would be easy prey—Day 1, families get together and try to get along for a few hours so grandpa can cut the turkey and mom can fuss about the stuffing being too dry like she does every year. By Day 2, said family is ready for a break from each other—so kick open the doors to the mall with fanfare and tell people there’s only a month to spend your brains out so you can show the same family how much you love them as a reflection of God’s gift to humanity on Christmas.
The rich fool is affirming our preconceived notions of greatness in accumulation. We are encouraged to build bigger and bigger barns to store our surplus of goods. The problem is that once we get that bigger barn, more stuff comes along that we end up needing to store. I wonder how many cultures in the world have a thriving industry built on the principle of building a lot of empty spaces for people to come and “store” their unused stuff that they bought the day after Thanksgiving. Not only do we have too much stuff to occupy our time in our homes, we have to rent space outside our homes to put all our unused stuff in.
What are we hoping to do by accumulating all of this stuff? The New Interpreters Bible Commentary points out that “Until the voice of God interrupts the fool’s reverie, there is nothing in the story but the man and his possessions. His goods and prosperity have become the sole pursuit of his life, until finally the poverty of his abundance is exposed. Thus the parable plunges the hearer into a searching reflection on the meaning of life. WE may declare “whoever has the most toys when he dies wins,” but the parable exposes the emptiness of such a life style.”
The rich fool’s sin is a preoccupation with possessions. One can almost smell the unnecessary sawdust in the air as God balks at the rich man’s bright, shiny new barns. The sweat on the rich fool’s brow must’ve turned ice cold when God leveled him with the sentence: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” The New Interpreters Bible commentary points out that the verb used here is literally a third-person plural: “they will demand” The subject is unstated. Probably the verb should be understood as a plural used in place of a divine passive: God will demand the man’s soul. But lurking as an alternative is the possibility that the antecedent is none other than the man’s goods themselves. His possessions will take his life from him. Then whose will they be? He presumed all along that he could hoard the bounty of the harvest for himself, but now whose will they be?
The rich man is utterly alone. His aloneness is accentuated by Jesus in this story by the fact that the man talks to himself. The rich fool is not only preoccupied with possessions, but he also exemplifies the foolishness of the Security in Self-sufficiency. This rich fool doesn’t need anyone else. He can provide for himself. He doesn’t look for security in the love of family or friends, or God’s love.
Many of us fall prey to this same Prideful inclination to think we can make it on our own. We call it “looking out for #1.” Sometimes this security in self-sufficiency mutates into the “grip of greed.” As Pink Floyd sang, “Money, Get back—I’m all right Jack, keep your hands off of my stack!” Our focus on our own needs becomes an obsession.
Here’s the good news and the bad news: we really can’t serve two masters! Jesus is trying to expand his listeners’ ideas about wealth and about what it is important to pursue in this life. He says, “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the accumulation of possessions.”
Jesus is on a mission to save souls—he looks on the other side of the boxing ring—and he sees an enemy in Mammon. In this parable, Jesus confronts the human need for material gratification. Jesus wants us to pay attention to the here and now, and the encounters with God that are possible if we open our eyes to a more significant reality than the reality that is shoveled down our throats in this consumer culture.
Paul echoes the concern when he advises the Colossians to “set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” Paul speaks quite clearly about “putting to death those things within us that are earthly, such as greed,” which Paul further describes as idolatry. Jesus and Paul are cautioning us about letting our “possessions” possess us.
Fortunately, the God that calls the man in the parable a “fool” is doing so because He wants that man to wake up to the true essence of life—the things that make us “rich toward God.” God wants us to be truly wealthy, and Jesus is here to tell us how to achieve that wealth: we can “strive for the Kingdom of Heaven.” Avoiding the greed that so often comes with material wealth is a key to this Kingdom and is a freeing experience.
There is a story about a news interview with a man who lost his home in the fires in S. Cal. Recalling that his brother had recently mused that they should be careful not to allow their possessions to possess them, this man who had just seen everything he owned burn to the ground announced to the reporter with a note of unexpected triumph “I am a free man now!”
Fortunately for us, the parable is given to us to help us know the Kingdom of God will not be built with barns full of self. The Kingdom of God is in small, humble things like mustard seeds and yeast. Whereas shiny new barns brimming full satisfy the self and the self only—mustard seeds and yeast are small to our eyes, but God sees their potential as transformative. Humanity responds to “sure things” like accumulation, and God works with the possibilities of something we might not think worth accumulating.
It is at this table of communion that God seeks to meet us and show us that the things we may sometimes dismiss, such as bread and wine, may in fact hold the divine presence. A loaf of bread and about half a bottle of Welch’s grape juice, totaling about $4, is where God renews us and shapes us and meets us. These are the things of heaven. These are the things that should occupy our hearts.
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