Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Feb. 13 Sermon: Higher Path
Sermon Texts: Deuteronomy and Matthew
Sermon Notes:
We’ve all been at those forks in the road haven’t we? Before the days of GPS, when you come to a fork in the road and you just don’t know
deut. 30: Same obstacles lie ahead of either path you take through them. One gives us life, the other one death.
Pretty drastic language—as with the discussion on lust. Wow—I’m sure most churches would look like a zombie movie if we were to take this prescription literally.
What’s at the root of that? Lust objectifies people, and to Jesus, objectification is the ultimate sin. It is taking a person, a Spirit-bearer, and reducing her to what you find particularly delightful. Perhaps our bodies age and become less “lust inducing” can be a reminder to us that what grips us with lust is very, very temporary. But the light inside us never dies. And it is the light inside us that Christ is trying to get us to see in one another. That light can be overshadowed by lust, especially if we feed our lust. And lust is something that can be trained.
Tackle divorce issue? It’s probably going to be what they key in on the most there—social issue that churches approach in a variety of ways.
Obviously Jesus speaks against divorce, not only here, but elsewhere in each of the gospels, and even later in Matt 19, when he says So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate." /7/ They said to him, "Why then did Moses command us to give a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her?" /8/ He said to them, "It was because you were so hard-hearted that Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so. /9/ And I say to you, whoever divorces his wife, except for unchastity, and marries another commits adultery." /10/ His disciples said to him, "If such is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry." /11/ But he said to them, "Not everyone can accept this teaching, but only those to whom it is given.
May sound like Jesus is pinning the blame on the women—only the women are committing adultery? But viewed throught the lens of his contemporary culture, Jesus is actually speaking about the value of the women who are rejected in divorce. Though it was accepted in his culture, Jesus pointed to the significance of what divorce did to the women in question—Though the men who decided to divorce their wives thought it was appropriate just to think of themselves, Jesus reminds them what their actions mean for the lives of others. He tightens the bonds of covenant by including not only our actions, but the intent behind our actions.
Matthew speaks of a pathway of personal integrity, which joins the inner and outer life. What we think about and our emotional lives shape how we act. Small things – like anger – are in a continuum with dangerous actions such as murder. Jesus is not denying our emotional life or personal attractions, or asking us to repress our feelings, but reminding us that we need to educate our emotions and thoughts – that what we feel and think has an impact on our overall well-being. Integrity involves the integration of the inner and outer life in ways that are life-giving for us and others. We can experience a healing of memories, emotions, and thoughts that enable us to move from alienation to reconciliation and learn to live by love and not fear.
Steep pathway up a mountain Karate Kid. At the top of the mountain are Kung Fu masters, one of whom the Karate Kid sees on a cliff ledge face to face with a cobra, seemingly dancing with it as it bobs and weaves its head. He at first mistakes her for mimicking the motions of the cobra, then Jackie Chan, the new Mr. Miogi, tells him that she is actually controlling the snake with her intentionality. Choosing life is that high steep path to the mountaintop—and what Jesus tells us, whether we are ready to hear it or not, is that at the top of that mountain, our intentions are of primary importance. They are the place where true worship and love of God, or where murder and adultery begin.
Choosing life or choosing other gods is the follow through on momentum. That momentum can be trained and honed—but it takes diligence and committement.
cause the sayings of Jesus, especially in Matthew's text, go beyond a 'code' of ethics into a 'psychology' of ethics, they stimulate our "imaginations" so we go deeper into all that motivates us, the impact of even our most mundane actions on ourselves and others
It does bring to
mind something from the movie Eat Pray Love in
which someone talks about the importance of
controlling your thoughts. I believe what he said
was we should choose our thoughts the same way we
choose our clothes in the morning. Unfortunately
the way I choose my clothes is to reach in to a
dark closet without the light so that I don't wake
my wife and grab whatever pants and shirt my hand
falls upon; which is also the exact same way I
seem to do with my thoughts, groping around in a
dim mind trying to catch hold of something that
feels right. Most times this can lead to some
strange and foolish combinations, but once in a
while the results are interesting.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Feb. 6 Sermon: Cooped Up
Sermon Texts:
Isaiah and Matthew
Notes:
One thing I’m sure we all got into touch with this past week is the experience of being cooped up.
We were cooped up anyway with various illnesses, so we’ve been hanging around the house for a couple of weeks.
Experience of being cooped up.
From today’s reading, we hear that God is much the same—He doesn’t care to be cooped up.
Jesus says it this way, “You are light—who lights a lamp and then puts it under a bushel?”
In John’s Gospel, he calls Jesus Christ the “true light, which illumines everyone.” So, by Jesus telling his disciples that they are light, he’s saying that he lives in us.
And when he lives in us, he doesn’t like to be cooped up in the house. He wants to be let out.
Isaiah speaks about what kinds of specific ways the light is shown to the world—things that we might call “social justice.”
And lest we think that “letting your light shine” means putting a smile on your face or name-dropping “Jesus” or “Praise God” into every other sentence, Isaiah tells us what letting your light shine really means. I’m certain Jesus had Isaiah’s instruction in mind when he began preaching this “Sermon on the Mount” and made such bold declarations about his hastily assembled congregation:
Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice,
To undo the thongs of the yoke,
To let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly!
Isaiah 58:6-8
Jesus said, “In the same way, let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Every time you share with the hungry; every time you tend to the homeless; every time you clothe the cold and naked; every time you refuse to hide your face from the suffering around you but look it square in the face; each and every time you do that, you breath life-giving air onto that tiny little light burning within you causing it to burn even higher and brighter!
Jesus also turns from this discussion to a perplexing discussion about fulfilling the law to the stroke of the letter—something Paul would have no doubt scratched his head at (had Paul not already written everything we find in the Bible)
Jesus seems to say that one of ways that we can let our light shine is by observing the law to the best of our abilities. And what is it that is the law is most about? Loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Salt and Light for the Whole World. Jesus' teachings in the Sermon are directed far beyond the narrow circle of the disciples themselves. We are to be the salt of the earth and light of the world. Matthew 5:13-16 is connected, as if with an umbilical cord, to Matthew 28:19.
Salt and Light Give Glory to God, Not Ourselves. The goal of being salt and light is to give glory to "your Father in heaven" (see 5:17, 6:9, 11:25). These two metaphors are perfect for depicting a ministry that points beyond itself to God. Salt shouldn't call attention to itself in a well-seasoned dish. It enhances the combination of other ingredients. Light illumines other objects in the room beyond itself (Reid, 36).
It’s a good thing we hear this at an early age and begin to try to learn it, for we must spend a lifetime reminding ourselves to keep our light burning! It takes constant attention, lest we succumb to that temptation to “hide our light under a bushel.” There in the opening verses of what surely must be The most famous sermon in the world, “The Sermon on the Mount” right after the poetic and status-changing opening which we call “The Beatitudes,” Jesus looks out at a crowd of close disciples and lesser-know followers alike and makes some very bold declarations: You are the salt of the earth! You are the light of the world! Has something that been said to you lately? Has someone boldly looked at you and proclaimed such good news?
You can go a long time without hearing that kind of declaration. More often than not, you don’t hear anything that comes even close. Instead, you hear, “You’re not who we’re looking for!” “You don’t measure up.” “You’re too old.” “You’re way too young—come back when you’re more experienced.” Or, something just as disappointing. It’s enough to snuff out any kind of light flickering there within you. But you don’t hear that from Jesus. Instead, without first passing out an aptitude test or requiring a year-long internship, he proclaims, “You are the salt of the earth—you are the light of the world!” Like salt, we are to conserve the well-being of this world we inhabit—as light, our good works stand out or lights up in such a way that God is made known.
Isaiah and Matthew
Notes:
One thing I’m sure we all got into touch with this past week is the experience of being cooped up.
We were cooped up anyway with various illnesses, so we’ve been hanging around the house for a couple of weeks.
Experience of being cooped up.
From today’s reading, we hear that God is much the same—He doesn’t care to be cooped up.
Jesus says it this way, “You are light—who lights a lamp and then puts it under a bushel?”
In John’s Gospel, he calls Jesus Christ the “true light, which illumines everyone.” So, by Jesus telling his disciples that they are light, he’s saying that he lives in us.
And when he lives in us, he doesn’t like to be cooped up in the house. He wants to be let out.
Isaiah speaks about what kinds of specific ways the light is shown to the world—things that we might call “social justice.”
And lest we think that “letting your light shine” means putting a smile on your face or name-dropping “Jesus” or “Praise God” into every other sentence, Isaiah tells us what letting your light shine really means. I’m certain Jesus had Isaiah’s instruction in mind when he began preaching this “Sermon on the Mount” and made such bold declarations about his hastily assembled congregation:
Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice,
To undo the thongs of the yoke,
To let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly!
Isaiah 58:6-8
Jesus said, “In the same way, let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Every time you share with the hungry; every time you tend to the homeless; every time you clothe the cold and naked; every time you refuse to hide your face from the suffering around you but look it square in the face; each and every time you do that, you breath life-giving air onto that tiny little light burning within you causing it to burn even higher and brighter!
Jesus also turns from this discussion to a perplexing discussion about fulfilling the law to the stroke of the letter—something Paul would have no doubt scratched his head at (had Paul not already written everything we find in the Bible)
Jesus seems to say that one of ways that we can let our light shine is by observing the law to the best of our abilities. And what is it that is the law is most about? Loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Salt and Light for the Whole World. Jesus' teachings in the Sermon are directed far beyond the narrow circle of the disciples themselves. We are to be the salt of the earth and light of the world. Matthew 5:13-16 is connected, as if with an umbilical cord, to Matthew 28:19.
Salt and Light Give Glory to God, Not Ourselves. The goal of being salt and light is to give glory to "your Father in heaven" (see 5:17, 6:9, 11:25). These two metaphors are perfect for depicting a ministry that points beyond itself to God. Salt shouldn't call attention to itself in a well-seasoned dish. It enhances the combination of other ingredients. Light illumines other objects in the room beyond itself (Reid, 36).
It’s a good thing we hear this at an early age and begin to try to learn it, for we must spend a lifetime reminding ourselves to keep our light burning! It takes constant attention, lest we succumb to that temptation to “hide our light under a bushel.” There in the opening verses of what surely must be The most famous sermon in the world, “The Sermon on the Mount” right after the poetic and status-changing opening which we call “The Beatitudes,” Jesus looks out at a crowd of close disciples and lesser-know followers alike and makes some very bold declarations: You are the salt of the earth! You are the light of the world! Has something that been said to you lately? Has someone boldly looked at you and proclaimed such good news?
You can go a long time without hearing that kind of declaration. More often than not, you don’t hear anything that comes even close. Instead, you hear, “You’re not who we’re looking for!” “You don’t measure up.” “You’re too old.” “You’re way too young—come back when you’re more experienced.” Or, something just as disappointing. It’s enough to snuff out any kind of light flickering there within you. But you don’t hear that from Jesus. Instead, without first passing out an aptitude test or requiring a year-long internship, he proclaims, “You are the salt of the earth—you are the light of the world!” Like salt, we are to conserve the well-being of this world we inhabit—as light, our good works stand out or lights up in such a way that God is made known.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Wesleyan Covenant Renewal
Texts:
John 15: 1-8
Colossians 2
The sermon isn't really an hour and a half long--just forgot to turn it off till well after church was over. oops!
John 15: 1-8
Colossians 2
The sermon isn't really an hour and a half long--just forgot to turn it off till well after church was over. oops!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Martin Luther King Jr. Sermon: Out of Date
Micah 6: 6-8
Revelation 21: 1-5a
Notes:
One thing I’ve taken to doing since I started noticing that having young kids is tough on the knees of your jeans (I seem to only have a pair for a year or so before they get worn out in the knees) is to shop for jeans at the Salvation Army. At $1 per pair of jeans, I just can’t seem to entertain the notion that paying 30 or 40 times that for a pair that is going to last Just as long is a good idea.
One thing became apparent to me the last time last time I was in the salvation army on Brookside in Tulsa. I noticed that there were several long rows of women’s jeans, but only a quarter of a rack or so of men’s jeans.
I asked the check out clerk if they were expecting a shipment of men’s jeans anytime soon, and pointed out that there was quite a disparity between the men’s and women’s selections, and she laughed and said “you guys just keep your clothes forever!”
I suppose that’s partially true—and something else I’ve noticed is that women’s jeans seem to go out of style a lot faster than the plain cut of men’s jeans. I wonder why that is?
I also came across this list about all the things that would be unknown to a baby born in 2011.
Yes, things go out of date. And in the scriptures it seems to reiterate this trend. In the passage from Revelation it says that “Behold, the old things have passed away, and I am making all things new.”
You see, in God’s opinion, There will be no more death’[b] or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Those things are out of date, according to God, they are like a landline telephone or a encyclopedia Britannica.
God has a new order of things, and it includes justice and peace.
The way we are to honor this new order of things too, is a bit different than what we might expect. The prophets Amos and Micah both speak to God getting a bit fed up with sacrifices and purity practices, and instead craving the deep and lasting justice that might roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream. In Micah, it is put quite plainly for us, He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly[a] with your God.
The out of date character of the pretenses we so often substitute for the real thing weren’t lost on Martin Luther King Jr., and if you listen to his “I have a dream” speech on the Washington mall, you can hear it clearly.
He states that the leaders of the civil rights movement will “never be satisfied” while injustice prevails.
You see, he had glimpsed a vision of the New Kingdom that John alludes to in the revelation passage. He had faith in what was possible, and so the present situation he found himself was clearly and definitely out of date. Only, he saw the out of date character of his own present situation not as a slightly out of style pair of jeans or even as a land-line connection in a world of DSL and wireless connections—the injustice that he witnessed and had perpetrated on him was more like the out of date quality of a gallon of milk down on the bottom shelf of the fridge with an inch of milk left at the bottom of the container that you leave there on vacation and by the time you get home the gas in the carton has expanded the plastic container, and the lid pops off with the pressure, and it is just putrid. You try not to breathe in and you have to GET RID OF IT!
Thank God he stood up and decried the injustice, and said NO! the injustice we feel is not just something we can tolerate, it is like that disgusting milk. It has to be thrown away!
injustice and racism and sexism are not vestiges of a bygone era, like rental stores or watches or dial up internet. They’re not just inconveniences. They are sin, and as repulsive to God as that out of date milk.
We can either treat them like inconveniences, or as people of God we can rise up and confront them for the disgusting rotton filth that they are.
Revelation 21: 1-5a
Notes:
One thing I’ve taken to doing since I started noticing that having young kids is tough on the knees of your jeans (I seem to only have a pair for a year or so before they get worn out in the knees) is to shop for jeans at the Salvation Army. At $1 per pair of jeans, I just can’t seem to entertain the notion that paying 30 or 40 times that for a pair that is going to last Just as long is a good idea.
One thing became apparent to me the last time last time I was in the salvation army on Brookside in Tulsa. I noticed that there were several long rows of women’s jeans, but only a quarter of a rack or so of men’s jeans.
I asked the check out clerk if they were expecting a shipment of men’s jeans anytime soon, and pointed out that there was quite a disparity between the men’s and women’s selections, and she laughed and said “you guys just keep your clothes forever!”
I suppose that’s partially true—and something else I’ve noticed is that women’s jeans seem to go out of style a lot faster than the plain cut of men’s jeans. I wonder why that is?
I also came across this list about all the things that would be unknown to a baby born in 2011.
Yes, things go out of date. And in the scriptures it seems to reiterate this trend. In the passage from Revelation it says that “Behold, the old things have passed away, and I am making all things new.”
You see, in God’s opinion, There will be no more death’[b] or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Those things are out of date, according to God, they are like a landline telephone or a encyclopedia Britannica.
God has a new order of things, and it includes justice and peace.
The way we are to honor this new order of things too, is a bit different than what we might expect. The prophets Amos and Micah both speak to God getting a bit fed up with sacrifices and purity practices, and instead craving the deep and lasting justice that might roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream. In Micah, it is put quite plainly for us, He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly[a] with your God.
The out of date character of the pretenses we so often substitute for the real thing weren’t lost on Martin Luther King Jr., and if you listen to his “I have a dream” speech on the Washington mall, you can hear it clearly.
He states that the leaders of the civil rights movement will “never be satisfied” while injustice prevails.
You see, he had glimpsed a vision of the New Kingdom that John alludes to in the revelation passage. He had faith in what was possible, and so the present situation he found himself was clearly and definitely out of date. Only, he saw the out of date character of his own present situation not as a slightly out of style pair of jeans or even as a land-line connection in a world of DSL and wireless connections—the injustice that he witnessed and had perpetrated on him was more like the out of date quality of a gallon of milk down on the bottom shelf of the fridge with an inch of milk left at the bottom of the container that you leave there on vacation and by the time you get home the gas in the carton has expanded the plastic container, and the lid pops off with the pressure, and it is just putrid. You try not to breathe in and you have to GET RID OF IT!
Thank God he stood up and decried the injustice, and said NO! the injustice we feel is not just something we can tolerate, it is like that disgusting milk. It has to be thrown away!
injustice and racism and sexism are not vestiges of a bygone era, like rental stores or watches or dial up internet. They’re not just inconveniences. They are sin, and as repulsive to God as that out of date milk.
We can either treat them like inconveniences, or as people of God we can rise up and confront them for the disgusting rotton filth that they are.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Jan. 9 Sermon: Specks and Logs, Rocks and Sand
Texts:
Sirach 27: 4-9 and Luke 6: 37-49
Notes:
I have always loved the saying that Jesus gives us about seeing the “log in our own eye” it’s such a ridiculous image, isn’t it? I mean, Jesus is comparing a speck of wood in someone else’s eye, so he doesn’t just stop at a “stick” in our own eye, it’s a full on log. That’s a funny image.
It’s a pretty glaringly obvious to others when we can’t recognize our own faults. So, with that in mind, since this is a new year, and we may have the inclination to “set out on the right foot,” let’s talk about what those “logs in our eye” might be. I spend a lot of time talking about what makes our church a great—but we also need to spend some time addressing our weaknesses. Otherwise we are blind to them and we’re more like the blind leading the blind.
But, I know there’s all kinds of pressure that we experience about voicing these kinds of things. We don’t want people to think we are being critical, we worry that we may not be able to word things right. So, instead of just raising your hand, I’d like to give everyone a chance to write down what they perceive to be the “log in our own eye” as a congregation.
Take a few minutes and think and pray about this, and then put something on paper to put in this basket, and then I’ll pick a few out and read them, and maybe respond to them or add to them. I want everyone to write something, so that it’s not apparent who is actually writing and who is not. If you don’t have anything to say, just actually physically write down “I have nothing to say,” and then sit with that sentence for a few minutes and see if it stays that way. If this takes a personal turn, you don’t need to identify yourself to everyone, but you can share what that personal log is that you are able to see in your own eye. But, if something comes across to you that is more a “log in our collective eye” as a church, then write that.
Let’s meditate on it, as Jonny Cash might say. And I pray that whatever comes up for discussion, we may have the Spirit-borne gift of receiving those words and truly hearing them. This is what happened at Pentecost, when the Spirt blew into the room, and something like tongues like flames became apparent to those who observed. What was spoken in strange tongues was heard and understood by the masses. So, let us go to hearing and seeing.
….
At the end of this passage, Jesus speaks about building your house on the rock rather than the sand. The rock is God’s grace. It is the bedrock understanding in your soul—deep down there you know that God loves you and forgives you the faults that you can identify or not. But, healing of those faults is possible through this love that we know is there.
You are connected to a deep wellspring of life that is implanted deep in your own being. We might get lost in the haze of what life has become in this country of wealth and prosperity. But deep down within us there is a light that pierces through the haze. It’s not only a house built on a rock, it’s a lighthouse built on a rock, and the beacon of God’s love that shines out from it guides others who are on the stormy seas.
You also have the opportunity to build your house on the sand. You have the choice to build a beach hut (remember MoonDoggie’s beach hut in Gidget? Sometimes I have the fantasy of cashing in my chips and going to live in one of those and spend my days surfing and my nights) on the sands of our culture’s “Gospel.”
We can stake our claim to the impenatrible rock that is right below the surface of reality, or we can build it right on top of the sand—on the ideal of the “good life” that includes all the amenitites we could hope for, and goals that extend as far as upgrading to HDTV and coordinating our clothes in some perfect ensemble.
Sirach 27: 4-9 and Luke 6: 37-49
Notes:
I have always loved the saying that Jesus gives us about seeing the “log in our own eye” it’s such a ridiculous image, isn’t it? I mean, Jesus is comparing a speck of wood in someone else’s eye, so he doesn’t just stop at a “stick” in our own eye, it’s a full on log. That’s a funny image.
It’s a pretty glaringly obvious to others when we can’t recognize our own faults. So, with that in mind, since this is a new year, and we may have the inclination to “set out on the right foot,” let’s talk about what those “logs in our eye” might be. I spend a lot of time talking about what makes our church a great—but we also need to spend some time addressing our weaknesses. Otherwise we are blind to them and we’re more like the blind leading the blind.
But, I know there’s all kinds of pressure that we experience about voicing these kinds of things. We don’t want people to think we are being critical, we worry that we may not be able to word things right. So, instead of just raising your hand, I’d like to give everyone a chance to write down what they perceive to be the “log in our own eye” as a congregation.
Take a few minutes and think and pray about this, and then put something on paper to put in this basket, and then I’ll pick a few out and read them, and maybe respond to them or add to them. I want everyone to write something, so that it’s not apparent who is actually writing and who is not. If you don’t have anything to say, just actually physically write down “I have nothing to say,” and then sit with that sentence for a few minutes and see if it stays that way. If this takes a personal turn, you don’t need to identify yourself to everyone, but you can share what that personal log is that you are able to see in your own eye. But, if something comes across to you that is more a “log in our collective eye” as a church, then write that.
Let’s meditate on it, as Jonny Cash might say. And I pray that whatever comes up for discussion, we may have the Spirit-borne gift of receiving those words and truly hearing them. This is what happened at Pentecost, when the Spirt blew into the room, and something like tongues like flames became apparent to those who observed. What was spoken in strange tongues was heard and understood by the masses. So, let us go to hearing and seeing.
….
At the end of this passage, Jesus speaks about building your house on the rock rather than the sand. The rock is God’s grace. It is the bedrock understanding in your soul—deep down there you know that God loves you and forgives you the faults that you can identify or not. But, healing of those faults is possible through this love that we know is there.
You are connected to a deep wellspring of life that is implanted deep in your own being. We might get lost in the haze of what life has become in this country of wealth and prosperity. But deep down within us there is a light that pierces through the haze. It’s not only a house built on a rock, it’s a lighthouse built on a rock, and the beacon of God’s love that shines out from it guides others who are on the stormy seas.
You also have the opportunity to build your house on the sand. You have the choice to build a beach hut (remember MoonDoggie’s beach hut in Gidget? Sometimes I have the fantasy of cashing in my chips and going to live in one of those and spend my days surfing and my nights) on the sands of our culture’s “Gospel.”
We can stake our claim to the impenatrible rock that is right below the surface of reality, or we can build it right on top of the sand—on the ideal of the “good life” that includes all the amenitites we could hope for, and goals that extend as far as upgrading to HDTV and coordinating our clothes in some perfect ensemble.
Christmas 2 Sermon: What's the Word?
Texts:
John 1: 1-18
In the beginning was the word. Here at the beginning of another year, I'm thinking about this statement and what it means to us. This past year I went to a worship conference where Rob Bell was one of the featured speakers, and he used the 1-2 hours of time he was allotted during a very full schedule to speak to the 2 or 3 thousand of us about what we say in worship. What we say, what language we use, what names we have for God. Why does this matter? Because "in the beginning is the word." What we convey about God in this hour of worship patterns what we convey about God by what we say during the week, in our places of business, in our family gatherings, in our friends homes, and out in the streets. So, what do we mean when we say that Jesus Christ is the "Word made flesh?" This whole "prologue" to the narrative in John's gospel is as perplexing and mysterious as it is beautiful. In the words of the Old Interpreter's Bible commentary, "This author gives the impression of thinking much faster than he can speak or write; with the result that the reader's mind is overwhelmed by a ruche of staggering assertions, at each of which he would like to be given time to pause, and try to begin, at least to think this out; but none is allowed him and at once he is swept on and on. The whole thing has the effect more of a piece of lofty music than of literature. It stirs strange feelings and emotions in us that surge up out of the deeps. It creates an atmosphere in which one reads, awed and tense, and with held breath. We know that we are face to face with something august, tremendous, illimitable. But the impression left upon most readers' minds, one fancies, is indefinite and vague; a sense of something very big and very real, but indescribably, which will not go into words. This is a passage best to be understood by that additional faculty with which the mystics credit us, which sees much further than reason and intelligence, and knows much more accurately than they ever can; and yet it cannot tell others what it sees and experiences." Don't you think so? I've always loved the prologue to John, but the interpreter is right, it says something that is a bit foreign to us, but we sense is of ultimate importance. The "words" used to convey this deep truth about Jesus are beautiful and poignant, but are they understood--do they really have any meaning for us? I remember a line from one of my favorite movies, Donnie Darko, that brings up that many linguists throughout the past two centuries have declared that the most beautiful word in the English language is "cellar door." The character in the movie loves that assertion, because there is a certain amount of ridiculousness attached to the idea that something so technically beautiful should mean something so mundane and ordinary. Is the "Logos," the Word made flesh, merely a cellar door in our Christian vocabulary, or is there meaning for these ideas in our daily lives? In 1932, William Funk, of the dictionary Funk and Wagnalls came up with a list of the most beautiful words in his opinion--they were "dawn, mother, and lullaby." There's something more there for most of us, isn't there? Likewise, the light that's spoken of in the first chapter of John is not exactly as nebulous as the idea of the "word" but it is still a bit mysterious. Let me ask you this, when is this candle most effective? With all the lights on, or with all the lights off? That's why John speaks of a light coming into the world to dispel darkness. "The light that is Christ means something only when the attempt is made to dispel the prevailing darkness."
Likewise, the words we say only mean something if they are spoken with conviction and only if they mean "Good News" to the world around us. As the light dispels the darkness, the Word dispels desolation and chaos. In the creation story we said to each other in the call to worship, God speaks creation into being, God creates order out of chaos by uttering the creative Word, who is Christ
John 1: 1-18
In the beginning was the word. Here at the beginning of another year, I'm thinking about this statement and what it means to us. This past year I went to a worship conference where Rob Bell was one of the featured speakers, and he used the 1-2 hours of time he was allotted during a very full schedule to speak to the 2 or 3 thousand of us about what we say in worship. What we say, what language we use, what names we have for God. Why does this matter? Because "in the beginning is the word." What we convey about God in this hour of worship patterns what we convey about God by what we say during the week, in our places of business, in our family gatherings, in our friends homes, and out in the streets. So, what do we mean when we say that Jesus Christ is the "Word made flesh?" This whole "prologue" to the narrative in John's gospel is as perplexing and mysterious as it is beautiful. In the words of the Old Interpreter's Bible commentary, "This author gives the impression of thinking much faster than he can speak or write; with the result that the reader's mind is overwhelmed by a ruche of staggering assertions, at each of which he would like to be given time to pause, and try to begin, at least to think this out; but none is allowed him and at once he is swept on and on. The whole thing has the effect more of a piece of lofty music than of literature. It stirs strange feelings and emotions in us that surge up out of the deeps. It creates an atmosphere in which one reads, awed and tense, and with held breath. We know that we are face to face with something august, tremendous, illimitable. But the impression left upon most readers' minds, one fancies, is indefinite and vague; a sense of something very big and very real, but indescribably, which will not go into words. This is a passage best to be understood by that additional faculty with which the mystics credit us, which sees much further than reason and intelligence, and knows much more accurately than they ever can; and yet it cannot tell others what it sees and experiences." Don't you think so? I've always loved the prologue to John, but the interpreter is right, it says something that is a bit foreign to us, but we sense is of ultimate importance. The "words" used to convey this deep truth about Jesus are beautiful and poignant, but are they understood--do they really have any meaning for us? I remember a line from one of my favorite movies, Donnie Darko, that brings up that many linguists throughout the past two centuries have declared that the most beautiful word in the English language is "cellar door." The character in the movie loves that assertion, because there is a certain amount of ridiculousness attached to the idea that something so technically beautiful should mean something so mundane and ordinary. Is the "Logos," the Word made flesh, merely a cellar door in our Christian vocabulary, or is there meaning for these ideas in our daily lives? In 1932, William Funk, of the dictionary Funk and Wagnalls came up with a list of the most beautiful words in his opinion--they were "dawn, mother, and lullaby." There's something more there for most of us, isn't there? Likewise, the light that's spoken of in the first chapter of John is not exactly as nebulous as the idea of the "word" but it is still a bit mysterious. Let me ask you this, when is this candle most effective? With all the lights on, or with all the lights off? That's why John speaks of a light coming into the world to dispel darkness. "The light that is Christ means something only when the attempt is made to dispel the prevailing darkness."
Likewise, the words we say only mean something if they are spoken with conviction and only if they mean "Good News" to the world around us. As the light dispels the darkness, the Word dispels desolation and chaos. In the creation story we said to each other in the call to worship, God speaks creation into being, God creates order out of chaos by uttering the creative Word, who is Christ
Christmas 1 Sermon: Born to Run
Matthew 2: 1-11
Matthew 2: 13-23
IF you’ve ever been to the parsonage, you have probably had a difficult time leaving.
Though I’d like to say this is because our hospitality is so charming, but the truth is that you probably have a hard time leaving because we have these confounded plastic things on the doorknob that make it difficult to open the door. You have to squeeze this plastic sleeve that fits over the doorknob at these pressure points, and they grip the actual doorknob.
It’s one of the ways that we’ve “babyproofed” our house. One of the many ways! When I was about Julianna’s age, I sleepwalked right out the front door of our parsonage in Pea Ridge, AR. I scared my parents half to death, and was headed right for the highway (which, granted, was not very busy in that tiny old Civil War battle sight in the Ozarks.
The story of that experience frightens me now that I am a parent, and I can imagine the fear and dread that my parents must’ve felt on that evening when they startled awake in the night to hear the front door opening and closing.
Perhaps our Holy Father knew a similar sense of parental fear and dread when He sent his only son into the world to bring true light and salvation into it in a new and radical way.
The story of the angel’s repeated warnings to the magi and to Joseph are sort of Divine babyproofing, except while I’m concerned about front doors and cabinet doors, Our Divine Father was worried about scheming kings.
The story is itself a foil to those who say that Jesus was “born to die.” (Which is a phrase I think is quite shallow and simplistic, and reduces the life of our savior to the act of sacrifice we believe is so important to our salvation.) Jesus life has something to do with our salvation too, you know—and the things that this Rabbi, born in a manger, has to say to the world are as integral to our salvation as the fact that he was crucified.
After all, if Jesus was “born to die,” then why would God go through all the trouble of sending warnings to Joseph to escape the murderous psychopath who ended up killing all of Jesus’ peers in Bethlehem. If his life really only had some metaphysical effect on the universe, then why not just let the thing play out and let his death occur not long after it had started? God could use his angels instead to instruct the right people as to what had happened, and then set the wheels in motion for the saving grace that was to come about by the murder of an innocent baby who happened to be “Emmanuel: God with us.”
So, please don’t use that phrase, “born to die.” As the carol we just sang goes: “Jesus Christ was born for this!” There are other things mentioned there, “He has opened Heaven’s door, and we are blessed for ever more,” “Now ye need not fear the grave. Peace, Peace, Jesus Christ was born to save. Calls you one and calls you all to gain his everlasting hall,”
You could say from the texts today that Jesus was “Born to Run” as the old Bruce Springsteen song goes. He is born on the run, and he has many obstacles to overcome just by being alive.
And as Joseph will find out, in the words of the Boss, “The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive.”
Jesus is the one person in the history of the world who was NOT born to die. He was instead born to LIVE and to offer LIFE to us all! I don’t know what kind of sentimentality is intended with that phrase, Jesus Christ was “born to die,” but it isn’t true—this story today proves it.
Was Christ’s ultimate death part of God’s plan to bring us all on his back to redemption? Jesus knew it to be, so I don’t doubt it—but it wasn’t “THE PLAN” it was part of the plan. It was the comma before the exclamation point of the empty tomb.
And, if we only paid attention to punctuation marks, we would miss the content of the sentence! The message conveyed to us in the meantime, between this beautiful story of a birth in desperate circumstances, to the surprising tribute of three strange foreigners, to the life that was preserved by God’s angels so that he could instruct us in the Way, the Truth, and the Life—that’s the content of the sentence. It’s not just a story about salvation—it is a story that is salvation. It’s a story that can be lived out by you and by me.
It’s not a story that ends in death—it’s a story that ends in true life.
Matthew 2: 13-23
IF you’ve ever been to the parsonage, you have probably had a difficult time leaving.
Though I’d like to say this is because our hospitality is so charming, but the truth is that you probably have a hard time leaving because we have these confounded plastic things on the doorknob that make it difficult to open the door. You have to squeeze this plastic sleeve that fits over the doorknob at these pressure points, and they grip the actual doorknob.
It’s one of the ways that we’ve “babyproofed” our house. One of the many ways! When I was about Julianna’s age, I sleepwalked right out the front door of our parsonage in Pea Ridge, AR. I scared my parents half to death, and was headed right for the highway (which, granted, was not very busy in that tiny old Civil War battle sight in the Ozarks.
The story of that experience frightens me now that I am a parent, and I can imagine the fear and dread that my parents must’ve felt on that evening when they startled awake in the night to hear the front door opening and closing.
Perhaps our Holy Father knew a similar sense of parental fear and dread when He sent his only son into the world to bring true light and salvation into it in a new and radical way.
The story of the angel’s repeated warnings to the magi and to Joseph are sort of Divine babyproofing, except while I’m concerned about front doors and cabinet doors, Our Divine Father was worried about scheming kings.
The story is itself a foil to those who say that Jesus was “born to die.” (Which is a phrase I think is quite shallow and simplistic, and reduces the life of our savior to the act of sacrifice we believe is so important to our salvation.) Jesus life has something to do with our salvation too, you know—and the things that this Rabbi, born in a manger, has to say to the world are as integral to our salvation as the fact that he was crucified.
After all, if Jesus was “born to die,” then why would God go through all the trouble of sending warnings to Joseph to escape the murderous psychopath who ended up killing all of Jesus’ peers in Bethlehem. If his life really only had some metaphysical effect on the universe, then why not just let the thing play out and let his death occur not long after it had started? God could use his angels instead to instruct the right people as to what had happened, and then set the wheels in motion for the saving grace that was to come about by the murder of an innocent baby who happened to be “Emmanuel: God with us.”
So, please don’t use that phrase, “born to die.” As the carol we just sang goes: “Jesus Christ was born for this!” There are other things mentioned there, “He has opened Heaven’s door, and we are blessed for ever more,” “Now ye need not fear the grave. Peace, Peace, Jesus Christ was born to save. Calls you one and calls you all to gain his everlasting hall,”
You could say from the texts today that Jesus was “Born to Run” as the old Bruce Springsteen song goes. He is born on the run, and he has many obstacles to overcome just by being alive.
And as Joseph will find out, in the words of the Boss, “The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive.”
Jesus is the one person in the history of the world who was NOT born to die. He was instead born to LIVE and to offer LIFE to us all! I don’t know what kind of sentimentality is intended with that phrase, Jesus Christ was “born to die,” but it isn’t true—this story today proves it.
Was Christ’s ultimate death part of God’s plan to bring us all on his back to redemption? Jesus knew it to be, so I don’t doubt it—but it wasn’t “THE PLAN” it was part of the plan. It was the comma before the exclamation point of the empty tomb.
And, if we only paid attention to punctuation marks, we would miss the content of the sentence! The message conveyed to us in the meantime, between this beautiful story of a birth in desperate circumstances, to the surprising tribute of three strange foreigners, to the life that was preserved by God’s angels so that he could instruct us in the Way, the Truth, and the Life—that’s the content of the sentence. It’s not just a story about salvation—it is a story that is salvation. It’s a story that can be lived out by you and by me.
It’s not a story that ends in death—it’s a story that ends in true life.
Advent 4a sermon: The Hopes and Fears of All the Years
Texts:
Psalm 27: 1-4, 11-14
Matthew 1: 18-25
I’ve always believed that one of the best ways to have an incredibly meaningful Christmas is to pay close attention to the words & phrases in the Christmas carols. There is so much inspiration & meaning in Christmas music.
Now there are a few questionable lines here and there . . .
"Away in the Manger" says, "Little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes." That’s not biblical, realistic, or helpful! And "We Three Kings" is a bit off, since they were Magi, advisors to kings, but not kings themselves.
Christmas is for poets, because only the expansive, wondrous mind of a poet can begin to put words to it all. The phrase that has come to me most often this Christmas is from "O Little Town of Bethlehem," where it says, "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight."
What I love about poetry & song lyrics is also what I struggle with the most -- it’s that you can never be 100% certain about what the author is truly saying. You can only have a hunch. "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight."
What are you afraid of?
When I was a kid, I was deathly afraid of aliens. I can remember laying in bed worrying that if I were to get up and peek out the blinds, there would be an alien right on the other side of the window trying to peek in at me.
Something about that immediacy, being right there in front of my face, still gives me chills down my spine.
Perhaps it’s easiest to speak about the fears of our childhood—what we can so easily see were unfounded, or at least embellishments of reality.
it’s harder to talk about the fears that I and perhaps you too have. I fear that I won’t know if the decisions I make or have made the decisions made on my behalf are the right ones. I fear that the tension my kids sometimes feel in my household will scar them. I fear that I won’t really end up contributing anything for posterity’s sake and remembrance. (I fear that if I plumb the depth of that particular fear, an outsized ego is at the root.) I fear that I’m not compassionate enough or sensitive enough to be a pastor. I fear that my children and wife will suffer because of a calling that I sometimes seriously doubt I even have. I fear that I the feeling of drive and resolve I was once animated by has gone and will never come back. I fear.
But, I used to hope that I would hit a home run when I was playing baseball. I was a good hitter. I rarely struck out, and I usually got on base. I hit a lot of runs home. But I always hoped for that glory watching the ball sail over the fence. It only happened a few times in several years of playing baseball.
I played in every game with that hope firmly lodged in my solar plexus.
It’s also, perhaps, harder to speak of those hopes that have continued to stick around in my soul. Are they signs of naivity? Are they “foolish hopes” that aren’t built for the “real world?” Are they simply products of my own privilege, or are they something that can attract people of all kinds of backgrounds?
Barak Obama wrote a book when he was a presidential candidate called The Audacity of Hope. I always liked that title—and it was sure something to see how the “hopeful candidate” invigorated an electorate and how his speeches based on that audacious hope seemed to really capture the imagination of a lot of different people.
Hope can be a powerful thing—but can it survive the onslaught of our cold, hard fears. You can probably divide the world into two camps by asking the question, “Is ‘hope’ or ‘fear’ more rooted in reality.
We have seen what has happened to the “hopes based politics” that catapulted Barak Obama into the White House. He charged right in with big plans for big hope filled programs like “Health care for all people” and the fears that are attached to achieving that hope won out. There was a backlash to that particular hope, and now he’s trying to get his own party to ratify the tax cut program that his predecessor dreamed up. A compromising hope is a lot more easy to stomach than an audacious hope, after all.
Well, I’m not intending on getting into politics—but I think it is helpful for us to ask ourselves, if the unabashed hopes that we claim to subscribe to are worth their salt. Will they hold together and keep us afloat in the midst of the crashing waves of calamity and violence and schemes and jealousy?
The story we hear today says yes. The nativity says that “hope floats.” Hope endures. Now, that’s not to say that “fears” should be disregarded. After all, the angel warns Joseph about things that he should fear—like a scheming Herod out to kill the Christ child, but the angel also says “Do not fear to take Mary as your wife.” I have a good friend who wrote about this phrase, and she says,
“n the Bible, God--or sometimes God's messenger--often implores freaked-out men and women not to be afraid. It's a standard divine greeting, a nicety to allay the pulse-quickening shock of receiving a message from heaven. Frequently the commandment stands alone: Fear not, period. Sometimes it's stitched to an object or person: Do not be afraid of _____.
Only twice is the would-be scaredy-cat encouraged not to be afraid to do some specific action. Following his family's near ruination by famine, Jacob sets out for Egypt to be reunited with his long-lost son, Joseph. God speaks to Jacob in a nighttime vision: "Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make of you a great nation there." The New Testament Joseph's message also comes by night, in the brume of a dream. "Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife," the angel enjoins, and discloses the controversial mystery of the child's conception.
Jacob is also promised the favor of God's presence. "I myself will go down with you to Egypt," God whispers into the night air. Meanwhile, the angel explains that the holy child in Mary's womb fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah; this child is the Emmanuel, God with us. And there is truly no better reason than this to sacrifice our anxieties at the altar of faith. We are not alone.
A lot of clergy think that the "Footprints in the Sand" poem is pretty schlocky, but there's a reason so many people prefer it to our most learned exegesis. People yearn to know that God is with them. The heart of Joseph's dream is the promise of divine presence: in Mary's womb, in Jesus's bloodstream, in a good man's shame. Fear and death and sin are trounced by love and life and salvation, all on account of the Emmanuel.
The text says that Joseph awoke and did as the angel told him. In time-management parlance, that's called "eating your frog"--taking on your hardest task first thing in the morning. I hope that as he quietly married his scandalous, sacred bride, he did so without an iota of fear--perhaps even with a tender heart. I hope, too, that we can encourage our parishioners to be so bold as they plumb their own dreams and confront their own trials, always and ever in the saving grasp of Christ.
It’s good that Joseph is who he is and pays attention not only to his hopes, but his fears as well. The angel didn’t just have peaches and cream for Joseph—he was telling him about some pretty dreadful stuff. He was going need to take this pregnant girl for his wife—and he was going to be the guardian of the Messiah! Then he was going to need to become a refugee because King Herod wanted to kill the boy. That’s a lot of weight! Where was the dream that said, “Take a load off, Fanny!” Well, you know the rest of that line right—“and…..you put the load right on me.”
Joseph was a “just man,” the scripture says, but he didn’t fear the law. He knew when it deserved an injection of hope too. The law called for Mary to be stoned to death. And yet, Joseph left room for something more. He did as the angel said—he did not fear, and he did not let fear guide his actions with regard to Mary and the baby she carried. Instead, he let them in. Marriage was about ownership in that day and age. It’s not to our liking, or our sensibilities about love, but it’s true. In taking Mary as his wife, Joseph was taking ownership of a problem. He was putting his family inheritance on the line for what could have been another man’s child.
Those were the rumors, after all, about the origin of the Christ child. Very early on in the Christian church—before the church had these stories about his birth, in fact, were the rumors that this great man Jesus Christ was born to a woman that had been raped by a Roman soldier, in an attempt to discredit what Jesus had said.
We bring all that to the Christmas holiday—our hopes and fears, our joys and our frazzled, overwrought selves. We bring it all to the only one who can take it all because He is the redeemer of it all. He is the one who deserves it all, and he asks for it all. And we bring it with the utmost humility and the utmost shame because at this time of year we remember that at one time he was just a little vulnerable baby. He was so out of place in this world that there wasn’t even room for him in an inn to be born, so his parents had to take him out to the barn.
Fortunately for us, he didn’t hold a grudge. Though there was no room for him, he made room for us and all we have to turn over to him.
My parents always taught me that most fear is rooted in ignorance, not reality. So, I guess you can figure out which camp I’d be in. But, you can’t really dismiss “fears” altogether, can you? The song says, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”
Psalm 27: 1-4, 11-14
Matthew 1: 18-25
I’ve always believed that one of the best ways to have an incredibly meaningful Christmas is to pay close attention to the words & phrases in the Christmas carols. There is so much inspiration & meaning in Christmas music.
Now there are a few questionable lines here and there . . .
"Away in the Manger" says, "Little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes." That’s not biblical, realistic, or helpful! And "We Three Kings" is a bit off, since they were Magi, advisors to kings, but not kings themselves.
Christmas is for poets, because only the expansive, wondrous mind of a poet can begin to put words to it all. The phrase that has come to me most often this Christmas is from "O Little Town of Bethlehem," where it says, "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight."
What I love about poetry & song lyrics is also what I struggle with the most -- it’s that you can never be 100% certain about what the author is truly saying. You can only have a hunch. "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight."
What are you afraid of?
When I was a kid, I was deathly afraid of aliens. I can remember laying in bed worrying that if I were to get up and peek out the blinds, there would be an alien right on the other side of the window trying to peek in at me.
Something about that immediacy, being right there in front of my face, still gives me chills down my spine.
Perhaps it’s easiest to speak about the fears of our childhood—what we can so easily see were unfounded, or at least embellishments of reality.
it’s harder to talk about the fears that I and perhaps you too have. I fear that I won’t know if the decisions I make or have made the decisions made on my behalf are the right ones. I fear that the tension my kids sometimes feel in my household will scar them. I fear that I won’t really end up contributing anything for posterity’s sake and remembrance. (I fear that if I plumb the depth of that particular fear, an outsized ego is at the root.) I fear that I’m not compassionate enough or sensitive enough to be a pastor. I fear that my children and wife will suffer because of a calling that I sometimes seriously doubt I even have. I fear that I the feeling of drive and resolve I was once animated by has gone and will never come back. I fear.
But, I used to hope that I would hit a home run when I was playing baseball. I was a good hitter. I rarely struck out, and I usually got on base. I hit a lot of runs home. But I always hoped for that glory watching the ball sail over the fence. It only happened a few times in several years of playing baseball.
I played in every game with that hope firmly lodged in my solar plexus.
It’s also, perhaps, harder to speak of those hopes that have continued to stick around in my soul. Are they signs of naivity? Are they “foolish hopes” that aren’t built for the “real world?” Are they simply products of my own privilege, or are they something that can attract people of all kinds of backgrounds?
Barak Obama wrote a book when he was a presidential candidate called The Audacity of Hope. I always liked that title—and it was sure something to see how the “hopeful candidate” invigorated an electorate and how his speeches based on that audacious hope seemed to really capture the imagination of a lot of different people.
Hope can be a powerful thing—but can it survive the onslaught of our cold, hard fears. You can probably divide the world into two camps by asking the question, “Is ‘hope’ or ‘fear’ more rooted in reality.
We have seen what has happened to the “hopes based politics” that catapulted Barak Obama into the White House. He charged right in with big plans for big hope filled programs like “Health care for all people” and the fears that are attached to achieving that hope won out. There was a backlash to that particular hope, and now he’s trying to get his own party to ratify the tax cut program that his predecessor dreamed up. A compromising hope is a lot more easy to stomach than an audacious hope, after all.
Well, I’m not intending on getting into politics—but I think it is helpful for us to ask ourselves, if the unabashed hopes that we claim to subscribe to are worth their salt. Will they hold together and keep us afloat in the midst of the crashing waves of calamity and violence and schemes and jealousy?
The story we hear today says yes. The nativity says that “hope floats.” Hope endures. Now, that’s not to say that “fears” should be disregarded. After all, the angel warns Joseph about things that he should fear—like a scheming Herod out to kill the Christ child, but the angel also says “Do not fear to take Mary as your wife.” I have a good friend who wrote about this phrase, and she says,
“n the Bible, God--or sometimes God's messenger--often implores freaked-out men and women not to be afraid. It's a standard divine greeting, a nicety to allay the pulse-quickening shock of receiving a message from heaven. Frequently the commandment stands alone: Fear not, period. Sometimes it's stitched to an object or person: Do not be afraid of _____.
Only twice is the would-be scaredy-cat encouraged not to be afraid to do some specific action. Following his family's near ruination by famine, Jacob sets out for Egypt to be reunited with his long-lost son, Joseph. God speaks to Jacob in a nighttime vision: "Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make of you a great nation there." The New Testament Joseph's message also comes by night, in the brume of a dream. "Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife," the angel enjoins, and discloses the controversial mystery of the child's conception.
Jacob is also promised the favor of God's presence. "I myself will go down with you to Egypt," God whispers into the night air. Meanwhile, the angel explains that the holy child in Mary's womb fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah; this child is the Emmanuel, God with us. And there is truly no better reason than this to sacrifice our anxieties at the altar of faith. We are not alone.
A lot of clergy think that the "Footprints in the Sand" poem is pretty schlocky, but there's a reason so many people prefer it to our most learned exegesis. People yearn to know that God is with them. The heart of Joseph's dream is the promise of divine presence: in Mary's womb, in Jesus's bloodstream, in a good man's shame. Fear and death and sin are trounced by love and life and salvation, all on account of the Emmanuel.
The text says that Joseph awoke and did as the angel told him. In time-management parlance, that's called "eating your frog"--taking on your hardest task first thing in the morning. I hope that as he quietly married his scandalous, sacred bride, he did so without an iota of fear--perhaps even with a tender heart. I hope, too, that we can encourage our parishioners to be so bold as they plumb their own dreams and confront their own trials, always and ever in the saving grasp of Christ.
It’s good that Joseph is who he is and pays attention not only to his hopes, but his fears as well. The angel didn’t just have peaches and cream for Joseph—he was telling him about some pretty dreadful stuff. He was going need to take this pregnant girl for his wife—and he was going to be the guardian of the Messiah! Then he was going to need to become a refugee because King Herod wanted to kill the boy. That’s a lot of weight! Where was the dream that said, “Take a load off, Fanny!” Well, you know the rest of that line right—“and…..you put the load right on me.”
Joseph was a “just man,” the scripture says, but he didn’t fear the law. He knew when it deserved an injection of hope too. The law called for Mary to be stoned to death. And yet, Joseph left room for something more. He did as the angel said—he did not fear, and he did not let fear guide his actions with regard to Mary and the baby she carried. Instead, he let them in. Marriage was about ownership in that day and age. It’s not to our liking, or our sensibilities about love, but it’s true. In taking Mary as his wife, Joseph was taking ownership of a problem. He was putting his family inheritance on the line for what could have been another man’s child.
Those were the rumors, after all, about the origin of the Christ child. Very early on in the Christian church—before the church had these stories about his birth, in fact, were the rumors that this great man Jesus Christ was born to a woman that had been raped by a Roman soldier, in an attempt to discredit what Jesus had said.
We bring all that to the Christmas holiday—our hopes and fears, our joys and our frazzled, overwrought selves. We bring it all to the only one who can take it all because He is the redeemer of it all. He is the one who deserves it all, and he asks for it all. And we bring it with the utmost humility and the utmost shame because at this time of year we remember that at one time he was just a little vulnerable baby. He was so out of place in this world that there wasn’t even room for him in an inn to be born, so his parents had to take him out to the barn.
Fortunately for us, he didn’t hold a grudge. Though there was no room for him, he made room for us and all we have to turn over to him.
My parents always taught me that most fear is rooted in ignorance, not reality. So, I guess you can figure out which camp I’d be in. But, you can’t really dismiss “fears” altogether, can you? The song says, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Advent 2 Sermon: Pause
texts:
Isaiah and Matthew
That’s how we should be during Christmas season. All the hustle and the bustle—Advent is about pausing. About reflecting. Can you imagine the wonder in our acquantaintance’s faces, kind of like those passers by in Grand Central Station?
Have to adjust to life knowing that the real world isn’t like a DVR. We can’t just pause it!
That’s what the season of Advent is all about. It is about pausing it. It’s about waiting. There’s all these scriptures and songs and liturgies, they’re full of words like “wait” and “watch.”
Today’s scriptures are like that. “Prepare the way of the Lord!” How do we do that? By sweeping the leaves off the front porch? I got a call from someone the other day who was going to stop by the parsonage, so I went outside and saw the pile of leaves on my front porch and thought, “that’s not very welcoming!” So I went out there and swept them up and then bagged them up in a garbage bag.
I think you can mentally and spiritually do this by spending more time in silence. By “pausing it,” especially during this season amidst all the hustle and bustle and decorating. The family got all our Christmas stuff out and we have boxes of stuff all over the place, our house is a wreck, but you know what—we have lights on the tree and ornaments, and it just looks magical. One of my favorite things to do (and to my delight, my kids love doing it with me) is laying down with my head under the tree looking up through the branches at all the lights and ornaments glowing through the fir needles. I said to Wesley the other day that this is what it must feel like to be a present. This is what it feels like to be present. Yes, even with boxes of stuff all over the wrecked house, taking a moment to lay there with your head under the tree with your kids, or perhaps the prayerful equivalent, is a spiritual “clearing off the porch” to prepare the way of the Lord. Why? How? Because it’s a good place to listen. That’s how we prepare—we listen. We wait. We cultivate silence in our day, so it’s not just jam packed and messy with all the “I gotta do’s”
You know the problem with those leaves on the front porch? You sweep them off, and then somehow they come blowing right back. I don’t understand the fact that my east facing house gets all these leaves nestling up against the front door, but it happens. That’s why all throughout these four weeks the theme of Advent is waiting.
In today’s scripture, we hear from John the Baptist, the voice in the wilderness, setting the formula for us. Part of the expectant waiting of Advent involves a harkening back to the voices of promise and hope found in the prophets.
He’s pushing the pause button, in a way, on what is going on in the world all around him. He looks at the temple system of worship and he sees corruption. He looks at the monarchy or his own country and he sees overfed users of the poor and oppressed in league with an occupying army. He looks at all this and he says “Pause it!” Wait! Listen! There is one coming who will judge all of this corruption. There is a doctor coming who will diagnose our illness and offer us a cure.
Instead of the same routine, the prophets invite us to look at the world with creative eyes. How can we be ambassadors of peace?
Show “G
How can we bring news of the Christ child in ways that don’t just meld into the background of all the trappings of the season? Can that last video be a metaphor for an invitation that you might hear on this day. How can your life be an accompanying song to the ever present jingling bell of need?
Wait! Listen! Amen
Community Thanksgiving Sermon: Banquet of Grace
Text Luke 15: 13-21
Don’t need to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner, you come when you’re part of the family, right? I remember the first time I went to my wife’s extended family thanksgiving meal. Things were a bit different than what I was used to. Now there’s an experience. Oysters at Thanksgiving? And yet, there they were in a casserole.
Banquet table an important place to be according to our scriptures: You heard the Isaiah passage where God swallows up death forever—many times this is read at funerals, and my own church heard it just recently on All Saint’s Day when we toll the bell for all who have died over the past year. That banquet sounds delicious, doesn’t it?! Well aged wines and lots of marrow! Yum! But, the important thing about that banquet isn’t what is served, but instead who’s invited—you heard it in the text, “people of all the nations will come to the Holy mountain.” That must’ve been interesting to the people who first heard Isaiah’s message. God was pushing the boundaries. In fact, God was simply stating that our “boundaries” don’t mean anything to him.
We have another banquet table in the much loved 23rd Psalm, and once again, the table is set with people we might not expect to see there. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” Hmm, that’s odd—I thought banquets were supposed to be something you shared with friends and family. That’s what we do, right?
Then you have all the banquet parables that Jesus tells in the Gospels, such as when a King throws a wedding banquet for his son, and everyone rejects the invitation, so the king sends his messengers out to invite the street urchins and rejects, and that’s who we find around the table at God’s banquet.
It’s at a table that the two disciples see the resurrected Jesus “in the breaking of the bread” after they’ve walked with him and they’ve talked with him but not recognized him. After they plead with him to stay even though he seems intent on walking on, he stays, and then they see him. They came into the banquet.
Later on, Peter and Paul come to blows because Peter seems embarrassed in front of the Jerusalem apostles because he had taken Paul’s advice and what? Eaten with the Gentiles. These unexpected people who showed up at God’s table and are hungry for what is there.
What is there? What is the succulent marrow of life? It’s grace. You see it there in the story of the Prodigal son—it runs throughout the story.
. At the end of our parable today, we see the same thing—a party. And then we see one of our characters, who is actually the main character considering who Jesus is speaking to when he tells this story, we see him sulking outside the party, whining that his father has been unfair.
We see him distancing himself from his brother, “this son of yours,” he says. "The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." (TS Elliot) This doesn’t just apply to the prodigal son, it applies to the older son as well. The older brother is faced with a decision. He chose not to go exploring. He chose not to have parties with his share of the inheritance. Instead he chose to silently stay and fester. How he came to utilize his father’s inheritance evidently came to weigh him down with the burden of resentment.
For all those years, he directed his resentment toward his long lost brother—that selfish, head in the clouds, squanderer. But when the boy returns home and he refuses to go in and join the party, the resentment boils over onto his father as well, doesn’t it! “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.”
So, the older brother too finds himself in a new/old environment. He is home where he has always been, but now his father has cracked the door open a little bit so he can see his old relationships in a new light. He can view his brother not from a “human point of view” as Paul puts it in his letter to the Corinthians, but instead as a “new creation!” The power and glory of grace is that if he looks at his brother in the light of his father’s love and acceptance, he will see his father’s abiding love for himself too! He will arrive at the place he started and know it again for the first time.
But then again, our older brother may withdraw from his father and run off into the dark night, listening to the faint echoes of the party from his own private hiding place, sinking deeper and deeper into the hell of resentment.
Jesus, master storyteller, leaves us hanging. He doesn’t give us an ending because the story itself is a call to action. He doesn’t just tie up the story in a pretty little bow and say, “And they all lived happily ever after.” Jesus was telling the story to the Pharisees. He probably intended for them to see themselves as the older brother, and he was giving them a choice: stay out here and sulk and turn you nose up at the people I am embracing, or come on in and enjoy the party!
Resentment can poison a heart. It colors one’s whole perspective, and turns a celebration into reason for jealousy. But Grace pursues us, even into the depths of hell, trying to get us to turn around and peek through that cracked door. Part of our most central creed had the notion of Grace pursuing even those in Hell. And because the parable ends with the Father out there on the porch, we are led to the conclusion that God’s grace chases us wherever we go—endlessly hopeful in our persuasion.
And this is a key to sanctifying grace. It offers us the framework of saying that Grace is journey. It is a process. It is not a ring put on our finger, it is not something to possess or earn. It is a dynamic, evolving relationship between us and our Heavenly Father.
Grace, even sanctifying grace, isn’t compulsive. God will run out and welcome us as we return home, but notice you don’t see the Father down there in the far country, grabbing Prodigal Son by the ear and fetching him back home. He will come out in the courtyard and cajole and plead with us to come on in to the party, but there must be some element of response.
But though Grace isn’t forced upon us, it is never withdrawn from us. God cajoles and pleads with us to walk in the Light, but we are stubborn. We are “stiff-necked” people, to use an Old Testament description, who are too resentful to have fellowship with our brother.
It’s my hunch that we’re not all that excited to see one or two people who will be sitting at the Thanksgiving table this week for one reason or another. That’s how families are, isn’t it? Perhaps you have a prodigal son in your family—perhaps you are the prodigal son, and have been shown a tremendous amount of grace just by sitting there enjoying the food and the love of the family.
We’re all that prodigal son. We’ve all run off and “squandered our substance.” But isn’t it wonderful to be treated with grace. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of the opposite, when someone doesn’t treat us with grace and forgiveness. It’s corrosive! It eats a hole in our guts!
Isn’t it beautiful to be shown grace? That’s something to be thankful for. When you mess up and you come home with your tail between your legs and you receive an embrace. Sometimes that’s the kind of response that makes you want to change the most. I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I know I’ve messed up and I get attacked for it, that only makes me defensive and hard headed. But when I’m shown grace, the disappointment with myself sinks in, and I’m more ready to change. God is a smart parent. God knows what works, and it’s grace that works.
Think about what the original thanksgiving meal was giving thanks for: for peace between people. For living another year through a cold and unfamiliar winter and a hot and humid summer amidst illnesses and people in a whole new world. It was for grace.
If the banquet table is a symbol for our lives of faith, then who are we hoping isn’t included? Who are we shocked has an invitation? Who is God welcoming in that we don’t see as fit or favorable? God help us! Keep cajoling us to come into the banquet for our lost brothers and sisters. Soften our spite, warm our hearts, open our minds to the great gift of reconciliation and peace among people. Help us be thanksgiving peacemakers. Inspire us to be one of your servants preparing the feast rather than one of your sons complaining about who’s on the inside.
Don’t need to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner, you come when you’re part of the family, right? I remember the first time I went to my wife’s extended family thanksgiving meal. Things were a bit different than what I was used to. Now there’s an experience. Oysters at Thanksgiving? And yet, there they were in a casserole.
Banquet table an important place to be according to our scriptures: You heard the Isaiah passage where God swallows up death forever—many times this is read at funerals, and my own church heard it just recently on All Saint’s Day when we toll the bell for all who have died over the past year. That banquet sounds delicious, doesn’t it?! Well aged wines and lots of marrow! Yum! But, the important thing about that banquet isn’t what is served, but instead who’s invited—you heard it in the text, “people of all the nations will come to the Holy mountain.” That must’ve been interesting to the people who first heard Isaiah’s message. God was pushing the boundaries. In fact, God was simply stating that our “boundaries” don’t mean anything to him.
We have another banquet table in the much loved 23rd Psalm, and once again, the table is set with people we might not expect to see there. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” Hmm, that’s odd—I thought banquets were supposed to be something you shared with friends and family. That’s what we do, right?
Then you have all the banquet parables that Jesus tells in the Gospels, such as when a King throws a wedding banquet for his son, and everyone rejects the invitation, so the king sends his messengers out to invite the street urchins and rejects, and that’s who we find around the table at God’s banquet.
It’s at a table that the two disciples see the resurrected Jesus “in the breaking of the bread” after they’ve walked with him and they’ve talked with him but not recognized him. After they plead with him to stay even though he seems intent on walking on, he stays, and then they see him. They came into the banquet.
Later on, Peter and Paul come to blows because Peter seems embarrassed in front of the Jerusalem apostles because he had taken Paul’s advice and what? Eaten with the Gentiles. These unexpected people who showed up at God’s table and are hungry for what is there.
What is there? What is the succulent marrow of life? It’s grace. You see it there in the story of the Prodigal son—it runs throughout the story.
. At the end of our parable today, we see the same thing—a party. And then we see one of our characters, who is actually the main character considering who Jesus is speaking to when he tells this story, we see him sulking outside the party, whining that his father has been unfair.
We see him distancing himself from his brother, “this son of yours,” he says. "The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." (TS Elliot) This doesn’t just apply to the prodigal son, it applies to the older son as well. The older brother is faced with a decision. He chose not to go exploring. He chose not to have parties with his share of the inheritance. Instead he chose to silently stay and fester. How he came to utilize his father’s inheritance evidently came to weigh him down with the burden of resentment.
For all those years, he directed his resentment toward his long lost brother—that selfish, head in the clouds, squanderer. But when the boy returns home and he refuses to go in and join the party, the resentment boils over onto his father as well, doesn’t it! “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.”
So, the older brother too finds himself in a new/old environment. He is home where he has always been, but now his father has cracked the door open a little bit so he can see his old relationships in a new light. He can view his brother not from a “human point of view” as Paul puts it in his letter to the Corinthians, but instead as a “new creation!” The power and glory of grace is that if he looks at his brother in the light of his father’s love and acceptance, he will see his father’s abiding love for himself too! He will arrive at the place he started and know it again for the first time.
But then again, our older brother may withdraw from his father and run off into the dark night, listening to the faint echoes of the party from his own private hiding place, sinking deeper and deeper into the hell of resentment.
Jesus, master storyteller, leaves us hanging. He doesn’t give us an ending because the story itself is a call to action. He doesn’t just tie up the story in a pretty little bow and say, “And they all lived happily ever after.” Jesus was telling the story to the Pharisees. He probably intended for them to see themselves as the older brother, and he was giving them a choice: stay out here and sulk and turn you nose up at the people I am embracing, or come on in and enjoy the party!
Resentment can poison a heart. It colors one’s whole perspective, and turns a celebration into reason for jealousy. But Grace pursues us, even into the depths of hell, trying to get us to turn around and peek through that cracked door. Part of our most central creed had the notion of Grace pursuing even those in Hell. And because the parable ends with the Father out there on the porch, we are led to the conclusion that God’s grace chases us wherever we go—endlessly hopeful in our persuasion.
And this is a key to sanctifying grace. It offers us the framework of saying that Grace is journey. It is a process. It is not a ring put on our finger, it is not something to possess or earn. It is a dynamic, evolving relationship between us and our Heavenly Father.
Grace, even sanctifying grace, isn’t compulsive. God will run out and welcome us as we return home, but notice you don’t see the Father down there in the far country, grabbing Prodigal Son by the ear and fetching him back home. He will come out in the courtyard and cajole and plead with us to come on in to the party, but there must be some element of response.
But though Grace isn’t forced upon us, it is never withdrawn from us. God cajoles and pleads with us to walk in the Light, but we are stubborn. We are “stiff-necked” people, to use an Old Testament description, who are too resentful to have fellowship with our brother.
It’s my hunch that we’re not all that excited to see one or two people who will be sitting at the Thanksgiving table this week for one reason or another. That’s how families are, isn’t it? Perhaps you have a prodigal son in your family—perhaps you are the prodigal son, and have been shown a tremendous amount of grace just by sitting there enjoying the food and the love of the family.
We’re all that prodigal son. We’ve all run off and “squandered our substance.” But isn’t it wonderful to be treated with grace. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of the opposite, when someone doesn’t treat us with grace and forgiveness. It’s corrosive! It eats a hole in our guts!
Isn’t it beautiful to be shown grace? That’s something to be thankful for. When you mess up and you come home with your tail between your legs and you receive an embrace. Sometimes that’s the kind of response that makes you want to change the most. I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I know I’ve messed up and I get attacked for it, that only makes me defensive and hard headed. But when I’m shown grace, the disappointment with myself sinks in, and I’m more ready to change. God is a smart parent. God knows what works, and it’s grace that works.
Think about what the original thanksgiving meal was giving thanks for: for peace between people. For living another year through a cold and unfamiliar winter and a hot and humid summer amidst illnesses and people in a whole new world. It was for grace.
If the banquet table is a symbol for our lives of faith, then who are we hoping isn’t included? Who are we shocked has an invitation? Who is God welcoming in that we don’t see as fit or favorable? God help us! Keep cajoling us to come into the banquet for our lost brothers and sisters. Soften our spite, warm our hearts, open our minds to the great gift of reconciliation and peace among people. Help us be thanksgiving peacemakers. Inspire us to be one of your servants preparing the feast rather than one of your sons complaining about who’s on the inside.
11/21 Sermon: ThanksGiving
Texts:2
Corinthians 9: 6-15
Ezekiel 47:1-12
Notes:
Met with the finance committee this past week. Two part series, First on Thanks and Second on Giving. Hahah! You’re stuck coming for the Giving sermon b/c you don’t want to miss the Thanksgiving pot luck!
Thanks:Taking? A response to what we have received , or a regular posture of gratitude in all things? Paul’s words for the Thessalonians is that we should be thankful “in all things.”
Hand getting tired from writing so many thank you notes.
Courtney would say this on the football field after we’d pair up doing our receiver’s drills. What is it about receivers that causes them to be so boisterous?
We were taught various methods of blocking, but perhaps the easiest way to block when we had someone covering us “man on man” was to just run off toward the endzone. If the cornerback failed to block us, then we could potentially be thrown the ball and then we would be able shout him down with “You betta recognize!”
Of course, this didn’t work as effectively with me. An observant cornerback would probably note that I was never really thrown the ball, and so there would be nothing to cover. Instead, I’d have to work for my blocks, because there was nothing to “recognize” with me.
There’s something I noticed about the hymns and professions of praise and thanks in the scriptures. They all go something like this. 23Sing to the Lord, all the earth. Tell of his salvation from day to day. 24Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples. In other words, “you betta recognize!”
There’s something about praise and thanksgiving that is connected intricately to the notion of spreading the word.
I know sometimes when someone has done something wonderful for me, I know they don’t want to feel put on the spotlight, and so a simple heartfelt expression of gratitude is the route I go.
God, on the other hand, loves the spotlight. God wants us to put Him in the spotlight in our lives, because that’s how other people will see God.
That’s one constant thread throughout all the scriptures of praise throughout the Bible. The call to Thank God for this or that is always followed by “tell everyone how great God is.”
I thought today’s theme of Thanks also applied to the civic holiday we recognized this past week in Veteran’s day too, don’t you think?
Most veterans I know, including my grandfather, don’t talk much about their service. They don’t necessarily want to be put on display for the great sacrifices they have made for all of us, but I can guarantee you that they probably sense our true thankfulness for their efforts on our behalf when we tell other people, when we teach our children about what a great privilege it is to live in this free country, and how that great privilege, purchased with the lives of our veterans, demands great responsibility.
If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life.
When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift.
As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more.
It’s kind of like that odd fact that scientists have found that if you smile more, then you will be happier. Even if you just fake it—even if you’re not happy, if you smile more and often, the face muscles signal to our brains that things are going swimmingly, and research shows, our mood improves.
Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively.
. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude?
This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for.
If we don’t feel a warm sense of gratitude when we give, we are probably too attached to our things and maybe we have the idea that we deserve what we have. Paul says, “Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” Thanksgiving is about Thanks and it is about Giving. Sharing our thanks together is an “overflowing of Thanksgiving to God.”
Corinthians 9: 6-15
Ezekiel 47:1-12
Notes:
Met with the finance committee this past week. Two part series, First on Thanks and Second on Giving. Hahah! You’re stuck coming for the Giving sermon b/c you don’t want to miss the Thanksgiving pot luck!
Thanks:Taking? A response to what we have received , or a regular posture of gratitude in all things? Paul’s words for the Thessalonians is that we should be thankful “in all things.”
Hand getting tired from writing so many thank you notes.
Courtney would say this on the football field after we’d pair up doing our receiver’s drills. What is it about receivers that causes them to be so boisterous?
We were taught various methods of blocking, but perhaps the easiest way to block when we had someone covering us “man on man” was to just run off toward the endzone. If the cornerback failed to block us, then we could potentially be thrown the ball and then we would be able shout him down with “You betta recognize!”
Of course, this didn’t work as effectively with me. An observant cornerback would probably note that I was never really thrown the ball, and so there would be nothing to cover. Instead, I’d have to work for my blocks, because there was nothing to “recognize” with me.
There’s something I noticed about the hymns and professions of praise and thanks in the scriptures. They all go something like this. 23Sing to the Lord, all the earth. Tell of his salvation from day to day. 24Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples. In other words, “you betta recognize!”
There’s something about praise and thanksgiving that is connected intricately to the notion of spreading the word.
I know sometimes when someone has done something wonderful for me, I know they don’t want to feel put on the spotlight, and so a simple heartfelt expression of gratitude is the route I go.
God, on the other hand, loves the spotlight. God wants us to put Him in the spotlight in our lives, because that’s how other people will see God.
That’s one constant thread throughout all the scriptures of praise throughout the Bible. The call to Thank God for this or that is always followed by “tell everyone how great God is.”
I thought today’s theme of Thanks also applied to the civic holiday we recognized this past week in Veteran’s day too, don’t you think?
Most veterans I know, including my grandfather, don’t talk much about their service. They don’t necessarily want to be put on display for the great sacrifices they have made for all of us, but I can guarantee you that they probably sense our true thankfulness for their efforts on our behalf when we tell other people, when we teach our children about what a great privilege it is to live in this free country, and how that great privilege, purchased with the lives of our veterans, demands great responsibility.
If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life.
When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift.
As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more.
It’s kind of like that odd fact that scientists have found that if you smile more, then you will be happier. Even if you just fake it—even if you’re not happy, if you smile more and often, the face muscles signal to our brains that things are going swimmingly, and research shows, our mood improves.
Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively.
. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude?
This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for.
If we don’t feel a warm sense of gratitude when we give, we are probably too attached to our things and maybe we have the idea that we deserve what we have. Paul says, “Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” Thanksgiving is about Thanks and it is about Giving. Sharing our thanks together is an “overflowing of Thanksgiving to God.”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Nov. 14 Sermon: Thanks
texts:
1 Thessalonians 5: 11-22
1 Chronicles 16: 7-14, 28-36
Hmm, I must've accidentally deleted the recording this week--notes only!
Met with the finance committee this past week. Two part series, First on Thanks and Second on Giving. Hahah! You’re stuck coming for the Giving sermon b/c you don’t want to miss the Thanksgiving pot luck!
Thanks:Taking? A response to what we have received , or a regular posture of gratitude in all things? Paul’s words for the Thessalonians is that we should be thankful “in all things.”
Hand getting tired from writing so many thank you notes.
Courtney would say this on the football field after we’d pair up doing our receiver’s drills. What is it about receivers that causes them to be so boisterous?
We were taught various methods of blocking, but perhaps the easiest way to block when we had someone covering us “man on man” was to just run off toward the endzone. If the cornerback failed to block us, then we could potentially be thrown the ball and then we would be able shout him down with “You betta recognize!”
Of course, this didn’t work as effectively with me. An observant cornerback would probably note that I was never really thrown the ball, and so there would be nothing to cover. Instead, I’d have to work for my blocks, because there was nothing to “recognize” with me.
There’s something I noticed about the hymns and professions of praise and thanks in the scriptures. They all go something like this. 23Sing to the Lord, all the earth. Tell of his salvation from day to day. 24Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples. In other words, “you betta recognize!”
There’s something about praise and thanksgiving that is connected intricately to the notion of spreading the word.
I know sometimes when someone has done something wonderful for me, I know they don’t want to feel put on the spotlight, and so a simple heartfelt expression of gratitude is the route I go.
God, on the other hand, loves the spotlight. God wants us to put Him in the spotlight in our lives, because that’s how other people will see God.
That’s one constant thread throughout all the scriptures of praise throughout the Bible. The call to Thank God for this or that is always followed by “tell everyone how great God is.”
I thought today’s theme of Thanks also applied to the civic holiday we recognized this past week in Veteran’s day too, don’t you think?
Most veterans I know, including my grandfather, don’t talk much about their service. They don’t necessarily want to be put on display for the great sacrifices they have made for all of us, but I can guarantee you that they probably sense our true thankfulness for their efforts on our behalf when we tell other people, when we teach our children about what a great privilege it is to live in this free country, and how that great privilege, purchased with the lives of our veterans, demands great responsibility.
If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life.
When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift.
As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more.
It’s kind of like that odd fact that scientists have found that if you smile more, then you will be happier. Even if you just fake it—even if you’re not happy, if you smile more and often, the face muscles signal to our brains that things are going swimmingly, and research shows, our mood improves.
Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively.
. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude?
This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for.
1 Thessalonians 5: 11-22
1 Chronicles 16: 7-14, 28-36
Hmm, I must've accidentally deleted the recording this week--notes only!
Met with the finance committee this past week. Two part series, First on Thanks and Second on Giving. Hahah! You’re stuck coming for the Giving sermon b/c you don’t want to miss the Thanksgiving pot luck!
Thanks:Taking? A response to what we have received , or a regular posture of gratitude in all things? Paul’s words for the Thessalonians is that we should be thankful “in all things.”
Hand getting tired from writing so many thank you notes.
Courtney would say this on the football field after we’d pair up doing our receiver’s drills. What is it about receivers that causes them to be so boisterous?
We were taught various methods of blocking, but perhaps the easiest way to block when we had someone covering us “man on man” was to just run off toward the endzone. If the cornerback failed to block us, then we could potentially be thrown the ball and then we would be able shout him down with “You betta recognize!”
Of course, this didn’t work as effectively with me. An observant cornerback would probably note that I was never really thrown the ball, and so there would be nothing to cover. Instead, I’d have to work for my blocks, because there was nothing to “recognize” with me.
There’s something I noticed about the hymns and professions of praise and thanks in the scriptures. They all go something like this. 23Sing to the Lord, all the earth. Tell of his salvation from day to day. 24Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples. In other words, “you betta recognize!”
There’s something about praise and thanksgiving that is connected intricately to the notion of spreading the word.
I know sometimes when someone has done something wonderful for me, I know they don’t want to feel put on the spotlight, and so a simple heartfelt expression of gratitude is the route I go.
God, on the other hand, loves the spotlight. God wants us to put Him in the spotlight in our lives, because that’s how other people will see God.
That’s one constant thread throughout all the scriptures of praise throughout the Bible. The call to Thank God for this or that is always followed by “tell everyone how great God is.”
I thought today’s theme of Thanks also applied to the civic holiday we recognized this past week in Veteran’s day too, don’t you think?
Most veterans I know, including my grandfather, don’t talk much about their service. They don’t necessarily want to be put on display for the great sacrifices they have made for all of us, but I can guarantee you that they probably sense our true thankfulness for their efforts on our behalf when we tell other people, when we teach our children about what a great privilege it is to live in this free country, and how that great privilege, purchased with the lives of our veterans, demands great responsibility.
If we simply accept the good without giving thanks, amnesia sets in and we begin to believe in another God. We begin to believe in the God who says we deserve what we have because we have worked for it. We begin to serve that God by taking without gratitude, by spending without thought of others, by living the “looking out for #1” life.
When we forget to live thanks, we forget that God is God and that we are not. God saves us from that trap by commanding us to remember—to remember who we were and the journey we have taken as a people. To remember that the bounty we share is a gift from God. IN the sharing of thanks, we remind each other of our gift.
As Paul says in the second letter to the Corinthians, “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” The more thanks we sow, the more thanks we will reap. If we live with a joyful and thankful heart, we will continue to live in joy. The generosity which is an outpouring of gratitude will multiply our gratitude. If we don’t feel thankful, then we probably need to give more.
It’s kind of like that odd fact that scientists have found that if you smile more, then you will be happier. Even if you just fake it—even if you’re not happy, if you smile more and often, the face muscles signal to our brains that things are going swimmingly, and research shows, our mood improves.
Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
ThanksLiving is making this openness to God our lifestyle, our permanent dwelling place. Thanks-Living is making our heart an altar, and bringing the light of Christ to that altar. Have you noticed that oftentimes, it is easier to generate a sense of collective victimization than collective joyfulness? When we get together with people we may not know, sometimes we bridge the gap of unfamiliarity by gathering around the things we despise. We pump ourselves up on our shared troubles or worries or whatever it is that unites us negatively.
. Yes, it is our temptation to rally around our shared dislikes, complaints, and feelings of victimization. What would it be like to identify with one another by our thankfulness? What if, instead of uniting around our shared dislikes, we instead found a common bond in our shared gratitude?
This, I think is the community we are called to form under the banner, “Christianity.” When we live with thankfulness in our hearts and share that thankfulness with others, the things we have to be thankful for seem to multiply. Let’s take a moment to experiment with this. We’re a community of believers, and I would hope that we have a lot to be thankful for.
Monday, November 08, 2010
All Saints Day Sermon: To See with Blinding Sight
Romans 6: 3-11
I always love the first day after daylight savings time. Doesn’t everyone feel rested!? I went to bed last night at 11:00 ! And I look forward to waking up on school days and it being light outside. I was starting to get really weary with this dark as the kids were getting ready for school thing. Bad idea to move daylight savings time back a few years ago.
But, one thing about it is that tonight, it’ll be dark at what, 5:45 ? As the night comes sooner and the days continue to get shorter, it has always been a time of year when our ancestors contemplated life and death. On the winter solstice, just a few days before Christmas each year, there were always celebrations of new life as the shortest day of the year also signaled getting over the hump and knowing that the days would be growing longer again instead of shorter.
Is Death a friend or a foe?
A very complex question for which there is no easy answer, I think. Our faith tradition sends us mixed messages. On one hand, we downplay it or embrace it as the necessary passage between this life and the next. Emphasis is put on the next life as the “eternal life,” the life that will never end, and so sometimes death is romanticized, and we picture for ourselves what comes after it as a reminder that death won’t be the end. Talk about Mrs. Hunter’s Happy Death.
At the same time, we have scriptures that seem to shake their fist at death, and it’s definitely seen as the enemy over which Christ gains victory. But in order for Christ to gain that victory, he had to fall to its clutches.
Through that gift, through that sacrifice, says the scriptures, the light of God shines into a world darkened and corrupted by sin. The light that shines though our lives is beautiful and unique, like the colors coming through our stained glass windows, and that light continues to shine in a way even after we have gone on. We are aware of that light that shines from the “cloud of witnesses” when we take time to remember those who have departed, as we do today. We remember the dead, and we live with the comfort and the hope that we will be remembered after we have “shuffled off this mortal coil” to quote another great poet. “Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.” (Tagore)
Carl and Tim recently fixed the porch light right on the outside of the prayer chapel door. It’s on a timer, and when I look over at the church in the early evening hours, I can see this single window fully illuminated. It’s the window that represents our baptism, and so it is a reminder of my baptism, and the fact that I, that we, are claimed by God. That we’re welcomed into God’s family. But right next to it, more faintly illuminated just because of the angle at which I’m looking at the sanctuary, is this window, the window that symbolizes the resurrection. The event, the victory that makes the new life possible. As Paul writes to the Romans in today’s scripture (brilliantly re-conceived by Eugene Peterson)
1-3So what do we do? Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving? I should hope not! If we've left the country where sin is sovereign, how can we still live in our old house there? Or didn't you realize we packed up and left there for good? That is what happened in baptism. When we went under the water, we left the old country of sin behind; when we came up out of the water, we entered into the new country of grace—a new life in a new land!
3-5That's what baptism into the life of Jesus means. When we are lowered into the water, it is like the burial of Jesus; when we are raised up out of the water, it is like the resurrection of Jesus. Each of us is raised into a light-filled world by our Father so that we can see where we're going in our new grace-sovereign country. 6-11Could it be any clearer? Our old way of life was nailed to the cross with Christ, a decisive end to that sin-miserable life—no longer at sin's every beck and call! What we believe is this: If we get included in Christ's sin-conquering death, we also get included in his life-saving resurrection. We know that when Jesus was raised from the dead it was a signal of the end of death-as-the-end. Never again will death have the last word. When Jesus died, he took sin down with him, but alive he brings God down to us. From now on, think of it this way: Sin speaks a dead language that means nothing to you; God speaks your mother tongue, and you hang on every word. You are dead to sin and alive to God. That's what Jesus did.
:
From the Ephesians text for All Saint’s Day, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, 18so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you.” I love these words and how they resonate with the poem that Duane read.
I think that it is with these “eyes of our hearts” that we can “see with blinding sight” the hope that we are given. It is because of this hope that we should live life as a precious gift and “rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Dylan Thomas felt the urge in humanity to not accept death, to rage against it. To relish anything, whether a curse or a blessing from his own father, if it meant he was struggling against death. It is what we are made to do.
Paul writes in 1 Cor. 15 with kind of a gloating “smack talk” attitude toward death, “So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 55O death, where isthy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”
We don’t rage so much against the dying of the individual light so much as we rage against the dying of the light “which illumines everyone” in this world. And the truth is that that light is not dying at all, but instead that we are drawing the sheet over our heads “because we loved the darkness rather than the light.” So, when we say “rage, rage against the dying of the light,” we’re not doing battle with an inevitable truth but instead combating a lie.
“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” (Norman Cousins)
What is it that “dies inside us while we live?” I think Jesus spoke of it when he said, “Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
When I was planning the children’s sermon, I had the memory of being in PE as a kid and loving the “parachute days.” Did anyone ever do “parachute day” in PE? We’d take this big multicolored parachute,
When I was a kid I remember we used to take a parachute and stand on its edge, then everyone at once would lift up their hands and then bring it down behind us and then sit on the edge. It was good for teaching us coordinated action, I suppose, but it was also good for just filling us with wonder.
That’s something you can only do with a group. We are in eternal community. You can’t get under a parachute and make a little bubble world of your own. You can live in a bubble, but it is usually a false bubble that sooner or later gets burst by reality. But, I think what was instigated in me by that little parachute bubble is something that will last my whole lifetime. Every once in a while I come across something that stokes the fires of wonder in me. And I feel like my eyes are “ablaze like meteors and gay.”
If you don’t like people now, you might be pretty unhappy when you die!
That’s one reason we need to figure out how to love our neighbor, b/c the witness of scripture is that we are never going to escape it!
Dylan Thomas poem.
Living a life of light. Peaceful, quiet death is what we hope for, but Thomas lifts up another ideal. Being a beacon of life.
Nothing puts us more in touch with our frailties and our failures than the prospect of dying, as Dylan Thomas points out. But death also halts those who live life to the fullest. Those who “caught and sang the sun in flight, and learned to late they grieved it on its way.” It seems like we are bound to fail in some way in this life. This is what we must all come to terms with. We are imperfect, but we strive for perfection.
And so, we “rage, rage, against the dying of the light” by living our life unto Christ. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. 11So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.
Our lives are cherished and held together by God even after we die, and we participate in Christ’s resurrection. Through it, we can be a light in the darkness, and we won’t die at all.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Oct. 31 Sermon: It's Not a Costume!
Sermon Texts:
Psalm 139: 1-12
Ephesians 6: 10-20
Can you remember the costumes you wore as a kid on Halloween? Perhaps you still enjoy dressing up? Many were here last night at our annual Trunk or Treat. You kind of made a costume for your automobiles, and many of you were dressed up too!
It’s always fun to put on a costume, isn’t it. We can pretend we’re something we’re not for a while.
Halloween is a very old holiday, and probably the most enduring aspect of Halloween was there from the beginning, dressing up as ghouls and ghosts.
In pre-Christian England, the people celebrated Samhain on Oct. 31. Nov. 1st was the new year in the pre-Christian society, and on the night between the old year and the new year, spirits were thought to have free reign on the earth. The “veil was thin.”
So, people would dress up like spirits and other creatures that people couldn’t fully understand, in an attempt to “blend in” and not be bothered by the evil spirits.
I remember some of my favorite memories of Halloween was going trick or treating with my best friend Matthew as a pair of nerds. Steve Urkel was pretty popular at the time, and his rise to fame as a suspender wearing, oversized glasses on the tip of his nose, mega-geek gave hope to people like me.
We’d watch his show every week on TGIF while eating chicken sticks and French fries at the Mattox house. My sister and I would bump into things in imitation of the great Urkel, and would do our best impressions of his “eheheh, Did IIIIIIIII do thaaaaaaat?”
I think Urkel must be alive and well somewhere on TV, b/c on Friday when I was taking Wesley to school, a boy hopped out his car, and Damien said, “Look, he came as Urkel!” I almost fell off my bike.
So anyway, one of the problems you run into as a nerdy little kid deciding to dress up as a “nerd” for Halloween is that you will inevitably hear from some other kid, “Hey Nathan, where’s your costume?”
What can you say to that? Where’s the little quip that equalize the embarrassment? There is none.
In today’s passage, Paul is speaking to the Ephesians about “dressing up” too, but instead of talking about things we hope we aren’t, Paul is talking about the qualities that can define us in a struggle against the darkness.
“Put on the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
That’s quite a costume, isn’t it! But that’s the thing—It’s not a costume. It’s not putting on something that is making fun of what we aren’t, it is putting on something that magnifies who we are.
Instead of utilizing the age-old principle employed by the ancient Celts, who dressed up like the demons and spirits to try and “blend in,” Paul had something very different in mind—stand out! Put on your armor and prepare for the onslaught!
Instead of skulking back into the shadows, Paul wanted the people of Christ to “stand their ground.” He says it three times in three different ways, Stand your ground, after you have done everything, to stand. And Stand firm!”
And what is Paul wanting us to stand firm against? Not the flesh and the blood, in other words, not our temporary struggles with vice or worldliness. If that is what defines our Christian faith—that it is some kind of safeguard against loose morality, then Paul has something to say to us.
There is a menace against which we must stand firm—it is the rulers and powers and authorities that propagate evil in the world. It is the darkness that seeks to defeat the church, and you know how that darkness is weaving it’s way into our lives in the most insidious and destructive way?
“By far the most dangerous foe we have to fight is apathy - indifference from whatever cause, not from a lack of knowledge, but from carelessness, from absorption in other pursuits, from a contempt bred of self satisfaction” William Osler
Apathy born of fatalism, and a lie that we deserve everything we want.
Do you see Paul’s Armor of Faith as a costume or your baptismal gown?
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