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Pursue Justice. Pursue Love.: A Sermon

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A sermon preached Sunday, October 14, 2012 at Peakland United Methodist Church. Some illustrations were provided in a Children’s Sabbath resource provided by United Methodist Family Services.

Scripture readings: Job 23:1-9; 16-17 and Mark 10:17-27

It was a Sunday morning, but something seemed different. As Erin drove to church, she noticed that the roads were more crowded than they normally were. And then she saw it. Instead of an abandoned parking lot at the Toys-R-Us like it was every other Sunday morning, the parking lot was full!

It looked like hundreds of children and their parents wrapped around the building and lined up in anticipation of something – a new Elmo toy, perhaps. Erin couldn’t help but think, “WOW.” All of these families lined up outside of a toy store just to get the newest toy.

As I reflected on Erin’s experience, I found myself thinking of all the children in our community who will never have that experience. Children who struggle to get by each day and who don’t know what the next day will bring. These children are not lined up outside of a Toys-R-Us waiting to take advantage of a sale or release of a new toy on a Sunday morning.

Take Renee for example. Renee is a client at United Methodist Family Services and she doesn’t consider herself anyone’s child. She is a ward of the state. Renee’s biological mother was 17 when Renee was born and living in poverty. Her troubled life involved convictions for theft, cocaine possession, and carrying a concealed weapon. After her mother was arrested for forgery, 7-year-old Renee was scooped up by a social worker and placed in the foster care system. Renee is not waiting outside Toys-R-Us to buy the latest and greatest toy on sale.

Renee is waiting for a forever family who will love and care for her.

Erin’s experience at Toys-R-Us and Renee’s story leaves me wondering, what is it that we the church are seeking for children? Are we seeking and pursuing justice and love for all children? Or are we focusing so much on teaching what we think Christians should believe while neglecting to show how Christians should live by actively pursuing justice?

Job doesn’t quite ask it this way in our Old Testament reading this morning, but he gets there. Job is the Biblical example of what it means to suffer. God and Satan set a bet on the table to see if Job would curse God or not if Job was no longer under God’s protection. God removes his protection from Job and Job loses everything. He loses the family farm, his children die, his wife leaves him because she can’t handle it anymore. His friends try to help, but all they offer are ways in which Job caused this suffering on himself. The verses we read this morning are often looked at by scholars as Job’s complaint to God. Complaint often has a negative tone to it. But challenge your thinking on that. Job is complaining because there is no sense of justice. Job feels that it is not right that he should suffer in the ways in which he has suffered.

Shane Claiborne, a well-known Christian author and speaker, who defines himself as an “ordinary radical,” describes his own experience as a youth growing up in the United Methodist Church this way:

I began to wonder if anybody still believed Jesus meant the things he said. Jesus was crazy enough to suggest that if you want to become the greatest, you should become the least. Jesus declared God’s blessing on the poor rather than the rich and insisted it wasn’t enough to love just your friends. I thought that if we really lived like Jesus taught, it would turn the world upside down and that it was a shame Christians had become so normal. I learned in Confirmation class about the fiery beginnings of the Methodist Church, but where had the fire gone? I learned about John Wesley who said that if they didn’t kick him out of town after he spoke, he wondered if he had really preached the Gospel. Then I watched as the congregation built a $120,000 stained glass window. Wesley would not have been happy. I stared at that window. I longed for Jesus to break out of it, to free himself, to come to rise from the dead . . .again.

Claiborne’s words remind me of the story of two old men talking to each other and one of them says he has a question for God. He wants to know why God allows such injustices, poverty, suffering, and hunger to exist in the world. His friend says, “Well, why don’t you ask God?” The fellow shakes his head and says he is scared too. When his friend asks him why, he answers, “I’m scared God will ask me the same question.”

It is quite possible that the rich man in Mark’s gospel today could have felt the same way that this old man did. The rich man comes to Jesus inquiring what he must DO to inherit eternal life. For Mark, eternal life is a synonym for the Kingdom of God. He uses the two terms interchangeably. In Jesus’ time it was widely believed that the rich were more likely to inherit the Kingdom of God. Their wealth was something that they had worked hard to accumulate over time or they had inherited. The rich man was most likely used to doing something in order to inherit great wealth (aka the Kingdom of God).

Jesus’ response is enough to jar us as it exposes the shakiness that is the bridge between the have’s and the have-not’s. Jesus flips the understanding of what it means to belong to the Kingdom of God.

Remember last week when we read from the Gospel of Mark, the disciples were trying to keep the children away from Jesus? Jesus said, “Let them come to me, because the Kingdom of God belongs to ones such as these.” Remember how Edwin told us a few times that in Jesus’ day, children were expected to not be seen and not be heard. They had no social status what so ever. They were the least of these. And Jesus says that the Kingdom of God belongs to them. Jesus has flipped the understanding of how to enter the Kingdom. He does the same this week, with the rich man.

Jesus calls the rich man to give up all of his possessions and follow Him. The man, as Lamar Williamson, points out, was mostly awe-struck, astonished at what Jesus was asking of him. And the man walked away.

This is the part of the story where we usually yell out like we were watching our favorite TV show, “Dude, what are you doing?? You’re walking away from Jesus??” In Mark’s gospel this is the only time someone is called to follow Jesus and does not immediately do so. But, as Megan, who is also preaching on this text today, pointed out to me, we don’t know what the man does when he leaves. Maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he was angry and bitter. We really don’t know, Mark does not tell us, that’s another story for another book for another day. The question it raises for us is, where are we walking? Where are we going when Jesus calls us?

Today is Children’s Sabbath which is sponsored by the Children’s Defense Fund who works tirelessly to ensure every child is healthy, is educated, and has an equal start. They challenge faith communities, like this one, to transform our communities and our nation as they defend and care for the youngest, weakest, poorest, and most vulnerable. The least of these.

So, while we are here in this beautiful place of worship and not in line at the Toys-R-Us, we must tackle some tough questions. Are we engaging in our Christian education in spiritual disciplines that lead to the practice of risk-taking mission and deep authentic community to seek justice for all children? Are we engaging people in our ministries in leadership to equip them to be the change they wish to see in the world? As we consider the millions of children in our own country who live in poverty, who are homeless, abused, neglected, without health insurance, or who are hungry, we must think about how we can be the body, the hands, and the feet of Christ for these children to work for – to pursue – justice on their behalf.

Rabbi Abraham Heschel knew something about pursuing justice. He said once, after marching with Dr. Martin Luther King in Selma, “It felt as if my feet were praying.” Rabbi Heschel and Dr. King were walking with purpose and intent. To pursue is to hold purpose, there is nothing accidental or incidental about what we are doing. Rabbi Heschel would write, “The term ‘pursue’ carries strong connotations of effort, eagerness. This implies more than merely respecting or following justice”; in other words, justice is something we actively pursue. We don’t just sit back and say oh, that’s a great idea. The talk the talk and we walk the walk.

When a child is in absolute jeopardy, mortal danger, we put out an Amber Alert – we tell the whole community that we are in pursuit of the child and the one who is endangering that child, it is a time of utmost urgency and everyone has to get involved, everyone is expected to be aware, to look out for the child, to do what they can to help rescue the child in danger.

Brothers and sisters, this is our Amber Alert. We as a community of faith, as ones who follow the Christ, need to be on the lookout for children in danger, we need to be in pursuit for safety, to see that justice is done. In an Amber Alert, we get all kinds of information about the child, including their face, name, and story plastered everywhere!

There are countless faces of children lining up, not at Toys-R-Us, but at soup kitchens and other churches and agencies to get one hot meal or one box of food or for the lucky chance of getting to see a doctor at the free clinic. They are lining up all over Africa, Costa Rica, Jamaica, Dominic Republic, Washington D. C., and Lynchburg, Virginia.

We most likely will not get to see the faces of the 16.4 million children in this country who live in poverty, or the millions without needed health care, or the countless faces of children who go to bed hungry. We most likely won’t see the faces of the 5, 367 children and youth who are in foster care in Virginia and the 1, 372 who are waiting to be adopted by a forever family.

But some of us will. 25% of the population in Lynchburg is made up of children living below the poverty level. It is easy to look out and not see, but chances are with 25% of the population being children below the poverty level, we’ve met them. We’ve see them somewhere. How are we going to respond? Are we going to walk away?

Jesus was once asked what the greatest commandment was, and he answered two-fold: “Love God. Love each other.” We are called to love our neighbors are ourselves. We are called to love our enemies. We are called to love all people. And because we love, we pursue justice. When we pursue justice we are showing others our love.

We can rest assured that the faces we don’t see, God does. God knows each of their names, each of their faces, and each of their stories, just as God knows each of ours. And God has called us to go in pursuit of justice and love on their behalf – the nameless/faceless children of our community and our world. I challenge you this week to consider how God is calling you to be in ministry with children and youth whether that is here at Peakland or in our community of Lynchburg, or beyond. How is God calling you and how fast are you willing to go?

Amen.

Share the Bread

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A sermon preached on John 6:35, 41-51 on Sunday, August 12, 2012 at Peakland United Methodist Church.

Dust was flying through the air as the children ran back and forth kicking a soccer ball.  Spanish and English floated above heads as college students from the United States were playing futbol with Costa Rican children while on a mission trip to the shantytown Los Diques.  As the ball flew past Paul, one of the American college students, the Costa Rican children laughed that they had gotten the ball past him.  But Paul’s attention had left the soccer game.

In the distance, Paul noticed something.  Or, rather, someone.  Sitting next to an electrical pole that didn’t work, in tall green grass that hadn’t been cut, was a toddler.  Paul walked over to the electrical pole as the soccer game continued.  He picked up the small boy who was wearing only a diaper, and carried him into the church.

This was the first time I met Jabel.  He was two at the time.  He lived in a small two-room house that sat across the dirt road from a church and next to the shantytown’s trash pile.  At random times during the week someone would come by and set the trash on fire to burn down the pile.  The smell of burnt trash would drift into Jabel’s house

His single mother worked in coffee fields all day.  She would walk about 20 minutes from the shantytown into the nearest city to ride the bus thirty minutes to the coffee fields.  During the day, she left her three boys, Jabel and his two older brothers, at home by themselves.

Even though Jabel’s mother loves him deeply, she struggles to put bread on the table.

The average person in the world will eat one small meal today, and this was true for Jabel and others like him in the shantytown of Los Diques.  Hunger is a reality that hurts.

In Biblical times, hunger was a reality that was not overlooked.  And it is this context of hunger – a universal experience –  that Jesus spoke what became controversial words: “I am the bread that comes from heaven.”

In verse 41, John tells us that the Jews started complaining because Jesus said, “I am the bread that came from heaven.”  This statement aroused anger and anxiety in the people.   This is in contrast to the response Jesus got in last week’s reading from John 6, where the people wanted more of Jesus. They sought him out.  But not this week!  Here they complain!

They didn’t seek understanding or clarification.  Instead they murmur and complain.  “How can this be?” they ask.  These words from Jesus cause them to remember how their ancestors wandered around in the wilderness (murmuring and complaining, none the less), and how Moses provided them with manna from heaven.  “The giving of the manna,” Biblical scholar William Barclay writes, “was held to be the supreme work in the life of Moses and the Messiah was bound to surpass it.”  And so, here is this Jesus who claims to be the Messiah, with no manna from heaven.  Instead, he calls himself that bread from heaven.

With this one statement, Jesus calls into question everything the people had believed and held as truth.  Not only was Jesus changing their way of understanding “bread from heaven,” but he was changing their understanding of being in relationship with God.  To be in relationship with God meant believing in Jesus as the Christ.

And their way of coping with this, was to complain.  And why not?  It’s so easy.

A monk joined a monastery and took a vow of silence. After the first 10 years his superior called him in and asked, “Do you have anything to say?” The monk replied, “Food bad.” After another 10 years the monk again had opportunity to voice his thoughts. He said, “Bed hard.” Another 10 years went by and again he was called in before his superior. When asked if he had anything to say, he responded, “I quit.” “It doesn’t surprise me a bit. You’ve done nothing but complain ever since you got here.”

But seriously, when it comes to growing in our faith and in our relationship with God, complaining gets in the way.  You know why the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years?  Because they were complaining so much.  Look at Jesus’ answer in verse 43: “Do not complain among yourselves.”  The Message puts it this way, “Don’t bicker among yourselves.”

Jesus calls it as he sees it.  Complaining gets in the way of spiritual growth.  Jesus offers to us the Bread of Life, the nourishment that will keep us individually and as a community of faith, from wandering in the wilderness.

Irenaeus, an early church theologian, was asked what new thing has Christ brought that others do not give us, he replied, “He brought himself.”  The bread from heaven that Jesus brings is himself for the spiritual self of humanity.  “He is,” Irenaeus says, “as necessary to us as our food.”

We may not be hungering for bread like Jabel, but we hunger in a spiritual way. And Jesus says that he is the bread that came from heaven, those who eat of this bread will live forever, and be hungry no more.  A hunger that can be fed through Jesus Christ.

For it is through a relationship IN Christ that we, as the workmanship of God, are able to share the Bread of Life with those who are hungering.  We, as the Apostle Paul tells us through his letter to the Ephesians are to live the life which we are called.  Those of us who claim Christ as Savior are called to be Christians, which can be simply translated as “little Christs.”

In the 1992 Walt Disney film, Aladdin, the title character goes through some extreme measures to get a loaf of bread, including running away from the Sultan’s guards.  As an adolescent living on the streets, Aladdin knows that this loaf of bread could possibly be the only food he’ll have that day.

As he’s about to bite into the bread Aladdin notices two small children digging through trash, searching for something to eat.  In that moment, Aladdin becomes a “little Christ,” generously giving his bread to the children.  As Frances Taylor Gench, of Union Seminary in Richmond says, “No image could convey more clearly Jesus’ power to nourish and sustain human life and to address our ultimate hunger – the hunger in every human heart for relationship with God.”

We are called to do the same – to share the Bread the Life with those who are hungering.  When Paul says in Ephesians 5:1 that we should be “imitators of God,” this is what he means.  We – in every way, on every day – are to imitate the God we say we love.  Whether that be in Central America, right here in Lynchburg, or even within the walls here at Peakland; packing lunches or giving money to support a feeding program; we are called to imitate the Christ.

So, I ask you how – where – are you being called to imitate Christ by sharing the Bread of Life?

Sermon Writing

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Surrounded by books with notes in the margins. Legal pads with barely readable notes scribbled on them. Blank computer screen.

Slowly the words begin to find their place on the screen. At first the words and sentences come slow, but eventually the sentences start to form and the sentences begin to make paragraphs. As fingers move across the keys, thoughts, ideas, and bits of worship pour out that you never knew existed inside of you. Jokes appear that you think are hilarious, and then you delete them because you realize nobody else is going to know what it means. You proofread, and proofread, and proofread. You get someone else to proofread. You proofread again. And again.

Soon you are done. There is nothing else you can say, though you may think of a few illustrations or teachable points you could include, but it may take another 2-3 pages, and you don’t want to do that . . . to anyone.

After sitting back and relaxing, you realize: you don’t have a clean shirt to wear when you preach.

An Equal Opportunity God

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A  sermon preached January 1, 2012 at Lebanon United Methodist Church on Matthew 2:1-12 and Ephesians 3:1-12.

This week our church will be a part of the 7th mission trip to Los Diques, Costa Rica.  I have had the privilege, by the grace of God and the generosity of others, to be a part of all 7 mission trips.  Since the first trip in 2006, my experiences in Diques have influenced my preaching and my teaching in various ways.  It’s not uncommon for me to share a story about Don Victor, the pastor at the Church of the Light of the New Day in Diques, or his family.  Or about different children we’ve meet over the years and how their stories impacted our lives.

Don Victor and his story came to mind as I pondered today’s worship service.  About 25 years ago, Don Victor moved his family into Los Diques, leaving behind a comfortable lifestyle to live in a place with no electricity, no running water, and streets and floors made of dirt.  Why?   That’s the question that so many Costa Ricans and Americans have asked for years.  Why would he do this?

Don Victor saw something in Diques that few others did, and few still do to this day.  Where others saw prostitutes and drug dealers, Don Victor saw children of God.  Where others saw a collection of run down shacks, Don Victor saw the Kingdom of God.  Even with this new perspective, Don Victor’s story is not a warm, cuddly one.  He was met with a lot of resistance.  He received very little support from other Christians because he was doing ministry in such a ghetto.  During worship services, neighbors would play loud music or run loud machinery.   At times rocks would rain down on the building during services.  There were days when dead dogs were thrown at the building, landing right at the front gate.

As Don Victor was welcoming the outcasts of Diques into the Body of Christ, he was unwelcomed.

The Apostle Paul knew something about not being welcomed.  It is believed that Paul wrote his letter to the Ephesians while in prison.  Paul’s preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ was not welcomed.  Yet, the gospel was not the only thing not welcomed in the first century church.  There was a major controversy in the first church, something I know we are not accustomed to today.  Luke documents the controversy well in Acts 15.  In Paul’s day, there was one major division among people – Jew or Gentile.

In the simplest definition, a Gentile is a non-Jew.  The Acts 15 controversy centered on whether Gentile Christians should go through the same rituals that the Jewish Christians did.  In a sense, it became an issue of membership.  The Jewish Christians were not recognizing the Gentile Christians membership in the church.  The issue was not limited to just Acts 15.  It was a problem that would rear its ugly head throughout the early church.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul’s major theme is that God’s plan of salvation is evident through the unified – the oneness – of the body of the church – the body of Christ.  Many of the mission trips to Costa Rica have had the theme of “Somos Uno”  – We are one.  Don Victor preached about how we are all different, different languages, colors, and hair styles, with different abilities, skills, and gifts, and when we come together we make up the Body of Christ and together accomplish the work of the Kingdom of God.

This idea – this theology – is sprinkled throughout Paul’s letters, including in Ephesians.   Yet, there is this division between Jews and Gentiles.   Paul, in essence, tells the Ephesians what he tells so many others, “Get over it.”  Yes, there are differences.  And that happens.  But don’t let those differences become stumbling blocks to doing Kingdom work.  What Paul is saying is that we all – Jews and Gentiles – can live together in this new Christian community to do the work of the kindgom.

 Yet, the notion that Gentiles were to be included and participate on an equal basis with Jewish people was still quite controversial at the time.  Paul had a goal to unite Jew and Gentile in equal grace.  The bottom line for Paul is this:  Christ simply HAS been made manifest to all, and the good news about him WILL go out from all who are committed to him and to all the world, including the Gentiles.

Including the unwelcomed.

This is just one of the themes we uncover in Matthew’s birth narrative, where the final pieces of the Nativity Set – the arrival of the wise men – are put into place.   Iraqi or Iranian star gazers were not normally seen waltzing into Jerusalem looking for a newborn king.  “If they did,” as one observer has noted, “they would have known enough protocol from their own culture that they wouldn’t normally start by asking common people and maybe a priest or two where this child might be.  Matters of state like this would usually have been handled by an official delegation working through all the ‘right’ channels.  In short, what these men were doing in Jerusalem and how they did it was bound – and maybe even intended – to draw suspicion from the powers that be.”  And suspicion it did draw.

Here are men most likely dressed in clothing that is very different from the cultural norm of Jerusalem, they probably have different facial features, and the gifts they bring with them suggest they are of a higher economic means than the average Jerusalem citizen.  These men are different.

Of the four Gospels, Matthew’s Gospel is the most Jewish.  It’s possible that the faith community that Matthew is writing his gospel for is the first Jewish Christian community in the first century.  There is a strong sense in this gospel to follow the Mosaic law; to hear Jesus teach in the tradition of the great Hebrew rabbis; and the importance of spiritual practices.  In Matthew’s view, this rich tradition of the Jewish faith are items that should be continued in the Christian faith.  Yet, with all this Jewishness, Matthew’s birth narrative has the least amount of Jewish characters.

It seems that the Jewish-Gentile tension is present in this early faith community as well.   I don’t think that it was a mere chance that Matthew includes the Magi in his gospel account.  Matthew is saying that there are traditions that are important and will guide us to growth, but that does not mean that we should keep Gentiles out, because they don’t fit into that tradition.  Mike Slaughter, a Methodist minister, points out that it was these nameless travelers who are the committed ones in Matthew’s narrative.  It was not the Jews, the ones inside the faith community, it was the Gentiles, those outside the community of faith.  Upon arrival, they bow down and worship Christ; they open their treasures and present them to the King; and they leave by a different way – transformed – changed.

From the beginning, Matthew is telling his faith community that tradition is important and valued, but that does not mean we exclude those who are different from us.  Christ is for all.  That is the message of the Manger.  The Christ child was not born in a palace with plush pillows, but rather in a barn surrounded by manure.  The Christ child was not visited by great political leaders, but rather was surrounded by barn yard animals, smelly shepherds, and foreigners.  Christ does the unexpected, and welcomes the unexpected.

The shantytown that is Los Diques is a place where people with no other means go.  Families escaping abusive fathers.  Mothers addicted to drugs.  Grandmothers raising her grandchildren.  Young boys whose only way out is to join a gang; young girls whose only way out is to sell herself.  This is a place the government would rather not exist, which is why they have been so reluctant over the years to provide the basic necessities for these people.

Yet, none of this matters to Don Victor.  Never has.  People are people.  And all people need grace.

I remember once walking through Los Diques with Don Victor and we came upon a teenage boy, who was 15 or 16.  Don Victor looked him right in the eyes and began to rattle off in his mumbling kind of Spanish.  I couldn’t understand a word Don Victor was saying, but I did know from context clues he offered earlier on our walk that we were in the area of Diques where pot was being grown – marjurnia.    While I couldn’t understand, I knew from the young man’s facial expression that he understood what Don Victor was saying.  I noticed his arms abused like a cutting board from the drugs he had been taking.  Don Victor knew this young man, knew that no matter what he had done that day, he needed to know that there was a place for him at the church, that he was valued by Don Victor and Jesus, and that grace was for him too.

The fact that these Magi, studiers of the stars from a foreign land, visited the Christ Child is a bit of foreshadowing into the ministry of Christ.  Jesus welcomed all.  The tax collector that nobody wanted to have lunch with; the children everyone wanted to keep in their place; the leper that no one dared touch; the bleeding woman everyone had forgotten about.  And Jesus stills welcomes all, no matter where you have been or what you have done.

Whenever we gather around this Table, Spencer (or any other Elder) will say that this table is not Lebanon’s table – it is not the UMC’s table – it is Christ’s Table, and as such, all are welcomed.  All are welcomed at Christ’s table.  The bottom line of Paul’s message to the Ephesians is the bottom line of Christ’s table:  Christ simply has been made manifest to all, and to all there is equal grace.

That’s the lesson I have learned from Don Victor – that all are welcomed – all receive grace.  That is the message of Paul’s ministry and the message of the Manger. . . and the Cross.  And we who claim Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior are called to follow in those footsteps to welcome all to share the good news of an equal grace to all.

Amen.


A Thanksgiving Meditation

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The following meditation was written and delivered for the Community Thanksgiving Eve Service at St. Paul’s Church in Hanover on Wednesday, November 23, 2005.

Read Psalm 65:9-14.

Shouts of joy!  And why not?  They have been blessed with abundance.  There’s flocks in the pastures, and grain in the valley.  There should be shouts of joy!

I got a phone call today from a church member looking for someone who could benefit from a cooked Thanksgiving meal.  We found someone.  I talked with the same church member later today, and she told me how the individual shouted for joy over the blessing that had been brought to her.

“God is good!” I can hear the woman saying.  And He is.  He has blessed us with many opportunities of thankful praise for the blessings bestowed upon us daily.

But today I was also reminded of those who are not shouting.  A man came by my office today, as well, looking for some assistance.  The last few weeks have been rough and he didn’t have enough money to pay his bills and buy groceries.  I made some phone calls and worked something out for him so that he would be able to go to the store and get food for him and his family.  As he sat in my office, though, he began to share with me some of this life story.  How he missed his parents, especially at this time of year, who have both passed on.  How he tries to make ends meet and do the best he can.  How he has struggled to take care of his ill son for the past few years.  And how work has not been the best since the weather has gotten colder.  He wasn’t shouting.  He was tired and worn and hungry.

But he was thankful.  Thankful for a comfortable place to sit and reflect.  Thankful for the family he has.  Thankful to find someone who would listen.  Thankful for his faith in Jesus Christ.

C. A. Hall has been attributed to saying, “Sow a thought, and you reap an act.  Sow an act, and you reap a character.  Sow a character, and you reap a destiny.”  This man’s destiny lies in his faith in God.  His thoughts, actions, and character are all reflections of his faith.  Though he may not know where his next meal is coming from, he knows the Bread of Life.  Though he may not know where his next job will be, he knows Who holds tomorrow.

A Latin American theologian tells this story:

“A woman of forty, but who looked as old as seventy, went up to the priest after Mass and said sorrowfully: ‘Father, I went to communion without going to confession first.’ ‘How come, my daughter?’ asked the priest.  ‘Father,’ she replied, ‘I arrived rather late, after you had begun the offertory.  For three days I have had only water and nothing to eat; I’m dying of hunger.  When I saw you handing out the hosts, those little pieces of white bread, I went to communion just out of hunger for that little bit of bread.’  The priest’s eyes filled with tears.  He recalled the words of Jesus: ‘My flesh is real food . . . whoever feeds on me will draw life from me’ (John 6:55, 57).”

During this season of thanks, may our prayers and meditations reflect those things which are blessings, but also with those who are not shouting.  Amen.

God’s billfold

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A sermon preached on Children’s Sabbath in October of 2008 at Lebanon United Methodist.

In the 2006 film Around the Bend, the death of the main character’s grandfather, brings him and his estranged father back together. The grandfather’s final wishes were for his son, grandson, and great-grandson to go on a journey together spreading his ashes at various locations as he had indicated on a map and series of sticky notes in KFC bags. As they continue on this journey, they begin to realize that the grandfather’s intention was more than just spreading ashes. His intention was to bring a family torn apart back together, and begin a journey of reconciliation.

Along the journey, the grandson finds an old billfold photo of himself when he was a child that his father still had. Because of their shattered relationship, he didn’t expect his father to have such a picture. When he turns the picture over, written on the back in his father’s handwriting were the words, “My boy.”

In her book, Thus Far on the Way, the Rev. Dr. Eileen Lindner recalls such billfold photos that many of us may carry of our children, grandchildren, nephews, nieces, or godchildren. We look at the photos and we see similarities between family members. He has his father’s nose. She has her mother’s chin. It is easy, gazing at the faces of those we love, to see them as made and beloved by God. But what, muses Lindner, must God’s billfold look like?

As I pondered on this question this week, I wondered who among us has God’s nose or God’s chin or God’s hairline. Looking through old billfold photos is like looking through a persevered history of a family. I imagine that the children of this community are in God’s billfold.

I imagine the children of Uganda born with AIDS -

The children of Iraq and Afghanistan of Israel and Lebanon, suffering from a war that is not theirs -

The children of this country, where every 51 seconds a child is born without health insurance. The children of this country, where every 35 seconds a child is abused or neglected -

The children of Asia, Central America, India, and Africa without parents, living in orphanages ..

The children of New Orleans left homeless by Hurricane Katrina -

The children who make up 4% of Hanover County’s population who are living in poverty and the children we have met through the Angel Tree program who are parent-less because their parents are incarnated.

The children of Diques, Costa Rica living in poverty, poor in material things, but rich in faith. These are the images I imagine are in God’s billfold.

Many of these children worry about where their next meal will come from. Many worry about where their water will come from. Many worry about having clothes to fit. Yet, despite these worries, as we saw in Costa Rica, these children and their families were able to put aside those worries and trust in God. For they understood that through it all, every worry, every doubt, every injustice, every thing that goes the wrong way, God will see them through. They’ve learned to trust and depend on God.

The writer of Genesis clearly tells us that humanity was created in the image of God. This either says a lot about humanity or a lot about God. As it has been suggested, being created in the image of God does not mean a physical mirror image of God, but rather that the image of God within humanity is reflected by the words, actions, thoughts, and behaviors of humanity.

An example of God’s image on earth can be found in the form of Jesus Christ. Jesus modeled a way to be God-like for the rest of humanity. Whether it was sitting down and eating lunch with the tax collector, sharing the Way with the Samaritan woman, or allowing the little children to come to Him. Jesus shows and tells us that in order to inherit the Kingdom of God, we must become like little children. We must trust and depend on God as a child trusts and depends on a parent.

When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus answered two fold. Love God and love each other. If we are to truly love God and love each other, we are called to respond to the needs and injustices of all God’s children. As Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, what are you doing for others?” What are you doing to show your love for God and for each other?

Jesus shows us, not just by his words, but by his actions, that being created in the image of God has a great deal of responsibility attached with it. As Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben tells him in the Spider Man movies, “With great power, comes great responsibility.” If we trust and depend on God than we have entered into a relationship with God. Through that relationship we have a responsibility to do for God and others as James says we can be doers of the Word – we can be doers of justice – we can be the miracle. For though we may not have God’s nose or chin or hairline, we have God’s eyes and hands and feet.

Imagine, for a moment, God’s billfold with the image of every single child in it – including yourself – including those who have wandered away from God for awhile, God still has their picture in his billfold, with their name on the back – the children of Hanover, the children of Africa, the children of Costa Rica, the children of Iraq. Imagine this billfold unfolded until it circles the world. Each one of those faces, every child, held in God’s hands is beloved by God. We who love God are meant to love not just our own children, but all of God’s children.

Called to Go

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A sermon on Acts 1:1-11, preached Sunday, June 5, 2011 at Lebanon United Methodist Church.

It’s that time of year.  We are in the season of graduations.  Many colleges have already had their graduations and not too long from now, high school seniors will graduate.   This week Morgan and Ashley met me to get gag gifts for our seniors for this afternoon’s picnic.  Our ritual at Lebanon has been to get the youth together at the end of the school year to mark this milestone.  While we fellowship and eat good food, we gather to share stories about what impact those who are graduating may have left on us.

Graduation is that time when we say good-bye to the world that we came to know so well before we embark on a journey into a new world.  It’s that time where we receive words of wisdom from our classmates, Principals, Presidents, Professors, and Teachers.   At graduation our relationships with these individuals change.   Those who had guided us through are no longer going to be with us.  But, the words they gave us, the lessons they taught us, and the things we learned about ourselves because of them, we can take that with us.

When I read our text for this morning from Acts, I thought about graduations.  These verses tell the Ascension story, where Jesus ascends, or goes up, into heaven to sit at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty.  According to Luke, Jesus has spent 40 days with the disciples speaking about and teaching about the kingdom of God.  This was the disciples’ last semester with Jesus.   And now, as he is about to ascend, Jesus gives his final address to them.  “John baptized you with water, but you will soon be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”  Jesus is foreshadowing what will happen during the Feast of Pentecost.

The disciples interrupt Jesus’ graduation speech with a question: “Is this the time when you will restore the king-dom to Israel?”  This is a question that they asked multiple times in the Gospels.  Their understanding of the Messiah was one who would come riding in on a great white horse and stomp out the evil Romans and restore the land back to the way it was.  But that’s not quite what they got.  I find it interesting that the disciples ask this question after they spend 40 days talking to Jesus, Luke says, about the kingdom of God.  Despite all that, they are still clinging just a little bit to the tradition that taught them who the Messiah would be and what he would do for Israel.

Jesus’ reply to their question, the rest of this graduation speech, wasn’t in the form of a cryptic metaphor that would leave the disciples going, “What you talking about, Jesus?”  Instead, Jesus shifts their emphasis to refocus them.  We need that ourselves every once and awhile.  We can get caught up in thinking about something or doing something a certain way that we end up with blinders on and we miss what’s going on around us in the present.  Jesus realizes that is what the disciples are doing here.  Jesus sees them put an emphasis on speculation about the future – “Is this the time?” – and an emphasis on the restoration of the past – “Will you restore the kingdom to Israel?”

Jesus shifts their emphasis from speculation about the future to demonstration in the present.  He calls the disciples to be witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.  Do you hear echoes of the Great Commission in Matthew 28?   “Be my witnesses,” Jesus tells them.  Tell people the story.  Let the world see a demonstration of what the power of God can do when it works through the community of faith – through those who trust in God.  And, begin now.

Jesus also shifts their emphasis from the restoration of the past to the transformation of the present.  Most scholars believe that when the disciples were asking about the restoring of the kingdom they were remembering back to David’s day.  During David’s reign as Israel’s king, Israel was united – all twelve tribes – in a way they had never been before, or since.    They were longing for the “good ole days.”  A time when things were simpler.  A time when things were less chaotic.  A time when there was less to be fearful of.  History has taught us that history is nothing but a steady stream of events that move forward.  Yes, we would like to turn the clock back some days, but we can’t.  We have to move forward.  We cannot restore what was, but we can transform what is.  And how does Jesus propose we transform the present?  By being witnesses.

At some point in the life of the Church, “witness” became the replacement for “evangelism.”  Most likely because when we hear the word “evangelism” it conjures up all kinds of crazy images that are challenging and, frankly, scary.  So, we replaced “Evangelism” with “Witness.”  It’s more comfortable that way.  But the idea is the still the same.  As one pastor put it, “We are called through baptism, a great common denominator to all Christians, to witness to Christ’s presence and love.”  A witness is someone who has first-hand knowledge of an event and gives testimony to what they have seen and/or heard.  And as we learned through Esther’s story, God seems to disappear; to not be around.  But, as we know from Esther’s story, God is always around and always at work.  Being witnesses to His Majesty means training our eyes to see what others do not see.  And it means living, like Esther did, boldly and courageously Christ-like lives.  This is the work of all people – all of us – and it is to be carried out in our daily day-to-day lives.  It’s living into our graduated disciple selves.

A month ago I went to Blackstone for an event and one of the workshops I attended was on evangelism.  The bulk of the workshop was spent talking about hospitality.  Professor Christine Pohl writes this, “Hospitality is not optional for Christians, nor is it limited to those who are gifted for it.  It is, instead, a necessary practice in the community of faith.” Spiritual practices are disciplines like daily Bible reading, prayer, worshiping with a community of faith.   Hospitality as a spiritual practice may seem like a new idea, but it really isn’t.  It’s a very old idea.  We see Abraham practicing it in Genesis.  Being welcoming to others – people you know and people don’t know – is a spiritual practice.  In other words, when we are being welcoming, we are witnessing to the presence and love of Christ.

And that means we do not stand around gazing on the heavens.  The two men in white robes, after Jesus has ascended – he’s left the building – asks the disciples, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”  We could easily reword that question to say, “Why do you stay in your comfortable pews?”  We are a people who like comfort.  Comfort brings us security.  Think Linus and his blanket.  Yet, we serve a God who calls us out of our comfort zones.  We serve a God who spoke peace to the storm.  We serve a God who parted the waters.  We serve a God rolled the stone away.  And this God calls us to go . . .to go . . .to witness to his presence, power, and love throughout the world right here, right now.  Yes, the gospel will be carried to the ends of the earth, but the command starts with Jerusalem, where they are right now.  The same is true for us.  We start witnessing right here to each other, to visitors on Sunday mornings being welcoming to all.

Will Willimon, a United Methodist Bishop, points out that “The time between Easter and the restoration of the kingdom is the gracious interim for witness.”  And so, he says, “There is work to be done.”  And done by whom?  The church, Willimon says.  The church secure in the promises of Jesus must be about the work of witnessing to the presence, power, and love of Jesus Christ.

It’s almost as if the two men in white robes are telling the disciples, you don’t need to stand here starring up at the heavens – you don’t need to stay here in your comfortable pews – you don’t need to try and calculate when Jesus will return – you don’t need restore things to way they were – you have graduated.  Live as one who has graduated.  Be secure, not in things of this world, but in the One whom you claim as Lord and Savior.  Be secure that the promises made by Jesus will be kept.  Be secure that in all you do, every day, Jesus Christ is with you through the power of the Holy Spirit.   And go be welcoming, tell the story, share the love.  Be witnesses.

Questions . . . . and Answers?

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The following is a sermon I preached on Luke 19:47-48; 20:27-40 March 27, 2011 at Lebanon United Methodist.  This was a part of the sermon series “The Footsteps of Jesus.”

When I was in school I dreaded pop quizzes.  Those infinite little secret weapons that teachers used to pull out on a whim that would ignite fear in the eyes of helpless children everywhere – it was a scheme.   And every teacher always had a stack of pop quizzes ready to go, no matter the subject or day of the week.

You didn’t know when they were coming.  That was the point.  The teacher didn’t want you to be prepared for it.    The worse pop quiz I ever took was in seminary – seminary!   I thought those days of sitting in fear of those stacks of quizzes were over.  But oh no.  We were assigned a 200+ page book to read over the weekend.  Most of us had read . . . .most of the book.  After opening class with a prayer, the professor proceeds to hand out this pop quiz.

Well, to say the least, nobody was happy.  And as we found out, none of us did well on that pop quiz.

Pop quizzes were things we thought teachers used to trick us into doing our homework or trick us into studying when we didn’t need to…..or simply just to trick us.

The religious leaders in our text this morning are in the Temple asking Jesus some strange questions that really don’t seem to have anything to do with anything.  The verses we read from Luke 19 tell us that these religious leaders don’t care much for Jesus.  They are like cats of prey in waiting, ready to pounce when the time is just right.

There’s only one problem.  Jesus knows they are there.  Jesus has been in the Temple all day teaching.  As Spencer reminded us last week, this is the same Temple that Jesus was teaching in as a child.  The same Temple that Jesus over turned tables because they had turned this House of Worship into a Den of Robbers.

The priests and scribes have been questioning his authority all day.  Jesus knows they are waiting to pounce.  It doesn’t look too good for the religious leaders.

What they need is a really good question for Jesus.  A question that Jesus can’t give a Jesus answer to.  A question that will trick Jesus so that no matter what his answer, he will alienate half the crowd.

They don’t only need a question . . .they need someone to ask the question.  In Luke 20:20, Luke says that they sent “spies” to ask this question of Jesus.  We don’t really know who these spies.  They could have been a different order of clergy or just some random “do-gooders” the priest came upon on the streets.  Either way, whoever these “spies” were, the question they were sent with is a pretty well known question (especially at this time of year): “Is it lawful for us to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

You can almost see the priests and the scribes in the shadows of the Temple, rubbing their well manicured hands together, cackling amongst themselves, “We have him now!”

But they forgot, they were asking this question to Jesus.  The Messiah.  The Son of David.  The Healer.  The Word made flesh.

Jesus gives what is now a classic response, “Give to Caesars what is Caesars, and give to God what is Gods.”  The wrinkled brows of the priests and scribes become all distorted as they sit in silence.  As Luke says in 20:26, “And they were not able in the presence of the people to trap him by what he said; and being amazed by his answer, they became silent.”

Then, we come to the text we read this morning.  A different group of clergy or religious leaders step up to challenge Jesus.  The Sadducees.

(Image courtesy of lyricsnepal.com)

Now, these guys!  Most of the time when we see the Sadducees mentioned in the New Testament, they are mentioned alongside the Pharisees.  Here though, Luke separates them, for as I learned this week, there are some significant differences.  According to Josephus, a first century historian, they were boorish in their social interaction and only influential with a few wealthy families, not with the common people – that would be those who were following and listening to Jesus.  And you thought the Pharisees were stern when it came to following the laws, these guys had them beat, hands down!  They were strict in obeying and stricter in their punishments.

And they encouraged conflict with rather than respect for their teachers.  Instead of being open to having a dialogue about differences in theology, they were very stern about what was right and what was wrong.  Which brings us to their pop quiz for Jesus.  Invoking the name of Moses and the law, they paint a picture of a woman who has had no children and whose husband has died.  The man’s brother marries the widow.  But he dies, and so the next brother marries the widow.  But he dies!  And this cycle repeats itself until she has been married 7 times before she herself dies.

“Whose wife is she,” they ask, “in the resurrection?”

Let’s step back for a moment.  Did you notice when Luke introduces these guys, he takes the time to mention that they do not believe in the resurrection?  Luke kinda just slipped that in there, but it’s important because it helps shape the question they ask.  So, here’s the deal with their question.  The question isn’t about marriage, it’s about the resurrection.  The Sadducees know this is a dividing issue among the people.  It doesn’t matter how Jesus answers the question, it’s not going to change their minds about the resurrection.  As Fred Craddock says, “their minds had been settled long ago.”  They are simply asking the question “to argue, to embarrass, to force Jesus into one particular school of thought, or perhaps just to divide the audience.”[1]

Their motives are questionable.

There’s a Jewish saying that goes, “Rake the muck this way; rake the muck that way.  It’s still muck.  Meanwhile we could be stringing pearls for heaven.”  This is basically what the Sadducees are doing.  They are raking the muck.   They are asking a theological question as a trick question to get rid of Jesus.  They are asking this question to avoid what really matters; trivial questions like these keep them from seeing who Jesus really is even when Jesus is right in front of them.

When do we do the same?  When do we rake the muck?  When do we waste our time playing word games instead of seeing Christ right in front of us?

Don’t get me wrong, I think questions are essential to our faith.  In fact, I’m fairly fond of asking them.  When we counter the questions that the Sadducees and other religious leaders ask with questions that Jesus is asked by others, we begin to see a difference.  For example:

  • The nobleman in John 4 asks Jesus, “Can you heal my child?”
  • Two men with demons in Matthew 8 asks Jesus, “Can you help with my demons?”
  • Scattered throughout the Gospels, those with the skin disease leprosy come to Jesus saying, “I am considered unclean.  Do you love someone like me?”
  • In Matthew 9, a leader of the synagogue comes to Jesus and asks, “Can you give my dead daughter life?”

Jesus always has time for questions that are real and authentic.  Jesus allows these holy interruptions.    The answer Jesus gives is not a slogan or a marketable sound bite.  The answer Jesus gives is simply himself.  The answer is Christ.  In Christ your child will be healed.  In Christ your demons will be dealt with.  It doesn’t matter how unclean you are, in Christ, you are loved!  In Christ, there is life.

The difference between these questions is a matter of the heart – it’s about attitude.    Its’ about what we intend when we ask the question.

The Latin root of the word “question” means “to seek”.  It’s where we get the word “quest” from.  To ask a question is to enter on a journey.  Lucy wonders what is beyond the lamppost.  Wolverine has questions about his origins.  Aladdin wants to know what will happen if he rubs the lamp.  Alice wants to know why this white rabbit is running around with a big pocket watch.  Questions can send us on a quest for answers.

Kenda Creasy Dean, Professor of Youth and Culture at Princeton Theological, has been quoted saying, “God is in the questions.”    God is in the quest.  God is in the journey.  An appropriate statement I think as we consider the journey that Lent symbolizes.  Lent is traditionally a season in the life of the Church where Christians fast.   The spiritual practice of fasting is about letting go of the things we depend on – meat, soda, facebook, TV, complaining, gossiping – to find dependency on God.   As John the Baptist says in John 3:30, “God must increase, but I must decrease.”  Lent is that time when we embark on a journey as we ask ourselves questions to discover where in our lives we need God to increase.   In what ways do we need God to heal us?  What demons do we need dealt with?  In what ways do we need to feel loved?  In what ways do we need new life?  “Real questions,” as one pastor puts it, “are doorways to the journey to newness.”

Are we willing to ask questions and be asked questions that engage us on a journey to deepen our faith or are we content with just raking the muck?

If we choose to engage in this journey, we have to open the eyes of our hearts.   Paul says in Ephesians 1:18, “I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.”   When we open the eyes of our hearts, we gaze upon the journey through eyes of compassion and mercy.   We see and feel our own brokenness, taking advantage of the Lenten journey reflecting on the sacrifice Christ has made for us.  The journey is not just an intellectual journey to Christ, it is a journey of the heart.  A journey of mending and healing.

This journey is not just a personal journey.  There are others walking along beside us.  Their journeys intersect with ours.   Especially during Lent, when we find ourselves on the same road leading to the Cross, following the footsteps of Jesus.

When I first came to Lebanon, almost 10 years ago, we worshiped in the old, smaller sanctuary. We worshiped in a much tighter space, often with our knees to our chins.   And for many a Sunday, we sang, “On a journey together we can face any weather; Keeping Christ the center of our community; On a journey together we can make the world better; By forgiving and loving, starting with you and me.”

We sang that song when we broke ground, right here for this new building.  We sang that song during the months that followed as bit by bit this building came into existence.  And we sang that song the first Sunday we worshiped in this space.

On a journey together.  That song represented for us the journey we were embarking on as a church – as a community of faith – as we worked to fulfill who God was calling us to be.   Friends, the journey is not over.  We are a community full of the called.  We need to be okay with facing questions that send us on a quest to fulfill whom God has called us to be.

So, this Lent as we journey remembering the steps that Jesus took, let us not be content with raking the muck and pop quizzes, rather let us consider the questions that will deepen our faith as we gaze with the eyes of our hearts on the steps Christ is calling us to take.    The steps in our own faith journeys as well as the steps Christ is calling us as a church to take.

Who is God calling you to be?

Who is God calling us to be?

[1] Craddock, Fred B. Luke. Page 237