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I like to think that I've still got a lot to learn
and am interesting in hearing a different angle on everything and yet willing
to speak my truth about what I know and believe unapologetically. I do not
trust those conservative and liberal thinking people who talk as if they have
it all figured out and everyone else is just plan wrong. I worked too many
years as a psychotherapist and a pastor where I learned there are always more
sides to any story, more truths than people ever imagine. We are all at our
best when we listen with our hearts and have a degree of humility. God is not
finished with me or anyone I know. God is also not finished speaking yet, so
religion that is just about proof texting what someone believe is ALWAYS the
way they are I also do not trust. Last I found, God is still very much alive
and speaking and I want to do my best to hear what God has to say. In the end
the only questions that matters are: Did I live my life well in relationship to
God, one another, and did I add any beauty to this world?
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9/18/2010O God,
whose will is that “we lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity,” hear the prayers of your people.
We come to you in a day of division, of misunderstandings,
and mutual suspicions
among people of various faiths and cultural backgrounds.
As a people who affirm that Christ died to reconcile a world from such divisions,
we make our petitions to you.
In a moment of silence
we pray for the wellbeing of people of differing faiths
and cultural backgrounds...
We pray the healing of your holy church,
itself divided,
your truth often distorted,
We pray for our nation,
founded on mutual respect of other faiths,
that we may live into the ideals which reflect your peaceable kingdom...
We pray for our leaders,
that they may have the truth and the courage
to lead us in a way that unites us rather than divides us...
We pray for ourselves,
that you would keep us in the truth and guide us
to deeper respect and mutual understand
with those with whom we differ...
We pray for peace in our own lives,
that your peace may reign in our hearts
and between ourselves and those we hold dear...
May our lives become so closely aligned with your way
that we become the prayer we wish to pray...
Amen. 3/2/2010
Psalm 27, Luke 13:31-35
Jingles We Love to Hate
I wish I were an Oscar Mayer weiner. That is what I truly wish to be cause if I were an Oscar Mayer weiner everyone would be in love (oh, everyone would be in love, everyone would be in love) with me.
You know there are just some songs that get caught in your mind and you can’t get rid of them. That one goes all the way back to 1965 and I still cannot get it out of my mind. Sometimes I find a bit of devilish pleasure in being the annoying husband and I try to come up with jingles or bits of songs that really get stuck in Marla’s mind. I have found that “Itsy, Bitsy Spider” is especially annoying and effective with Marla. Then there is always, “The Candy Man Can.” That one is too annoying for me. Then there is everyone’s favorite annoying tune, (oh, I almost hate to do this to you) Disney’s “It’s a Small, Small World.”
There is another song but this one is not annoying to me. We shared it with you this morning. We sang it as a response to the Psalm 27: “The Lord is my light and my salvation whom shall I fear.” There is a history for me with that song. I took a small group of youth to build Habitat for Humanity houses down in the Mississippi Delta and one morning the project leader taught us that simple piece of musical reflection. It has stayed with me ever since. In fact, it has become a sort of a mantra for me. Do you know what a mantra is? It is a short line, usually from scripture that you repeat or sing over and over until it becomes part of you. Mantras can be very powerful because the more you pray one, the more it becomes an unconscious way of shaping our life into the truth of the words being sung.
This particular mantra comes to me when I am in a moment of fear or struggle and it calms me, guides me, refocuses and reassures me. The whole of psalm 27 is actually quite powerfully reassuring. One verse says, “For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock.” Later in the psalm there are these words of assurance, “If my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will take me up.” God, you see, is both as a mother and a father, loving and protective. The Psalmist is so confident in God’s love and protection in the face of his enemies that he ends his song with a commandment not only to himself but to any of us who struggle, “Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!”
Our gospel reading from Luke has this same theme of protectiveness and loving devotion, but with a note of deep sadness on the part of Jesus. Jesus is warned by some Pharisees that his life is in danger, that Herod, who Jesus calls a fox, the ruler over Galilee, is looking for an opportunity to kill him. Jesus says that he must quickly complete his ministry and go to Jerusalem, because that is the place where prophets are to be killed. In words, that are foreboding, Jesus knows his fate and the deadly path he must take. The very history of Israel continues in its tragic course: the very ones God sends to save us are killed and destroyed.
Then we have this sad lament on the part of Jesus, “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” You Can Hear Pain BUT also Abiding Love of Jesus. You can hear the pain and the disappointment in those words, but also the deep, abiding love of Jesus, whose will is to protect and to save the people of Israel. Jesus wants so very much to love and comfort his people - to pull them into himself and protect them from harm.
It is a very strong image when it comes to comfort. We know how deep our need and our desire for comfort goes. Just think about a time you have held a child who has been hurt or who is terrified. She snugs up close and she feels so reassured. She almost melts into you in comfort and relief. Who of us does not at times want to have that sort of holding and of being loved?
But I am wondering if that really enough? Is comfort enough? Do we perhaps prefer something more than comfort? When danger lurks, when we find ourselves afraid do we not find ourselves longing for something more protective and substantial than a hen hiding us under her wings?
As one writer puts it “When the foxes of this world start prowling really close to home, when you can hear them snuffling right outside the door, then it would be nice to have a little bigger defense budget for the hen house.”1 Comfort is fine as far as it goes, but a robust protection capable of overcoming any threat is what we really believe in.
Many years ago, I saw a very well done movie called “The Witness.” A young Amish boy and his mother travel to Philadelphia where the young boy witnesses a murder. A good cop named John Book is forced to go into hiding when he discovers that corrupt cops were in on the killing. He goes to hide in the Amish Country with the family of the young Amish boy.
While in hiding, John Book discovers the beauty and peacefulness of the simple way of life of the Amish people. But, of course, it is not too long before the corrupt cops come looking for John Book and the young Amish boy. You can feel the tension and the suspense in the climax of the film. You realize the boy and Book and the rest of the family are in grave danger. John Book is unarmed. The Amish are pacifist. You wonder how will these killers be stopped. I am cheering with the audience as John Book manages to kill one of the killers by smothering him in a corn silo and then he uses the dead cop's shotgun to kill another. That is just reality. That is how you handle violence.
But the scene is not over. There is another rogue cop and John Book is out of ammunition. He does the only thing he can do, he rings the farm bell, alerting his neighbors to the problem and they come running. The other rogue policeman knows that he cannot kill them all and he surrenders.
There is no doubt of what I thought had to be done. I was relieved to see John Book take action even if it meant using a sword to stop a sword. But the movie does not let us off the hook. When the crowd of Amish show up, we also see the very real power of peaceful people standing against evil. It makes you wonder, if maybe, just maybe, the Amish have a way that also has its own power and truth.
Jesus is clearly on the side of the Amish way of protection. When a fox threatens a hen about all the hen can do is hide her chick under her wing. The only other option is for the hen to fluff up her breast and stand between the fox and her chicks and hope the fox will be satisfied with killing only her. This is what Jesus does.
When Herod comes after Jesus, when the foxes of this world seek Jesus out, Jesus has no gun with which to stop them, no weapon with which to defend himself and his followers. It is a bit unsettling. When Peter pulls his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus tells him to put it away, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.” When Pilate ask him about his kingdom, Jesus simply says, “My kingdom is not of this world, if it were, my followers would rise up and fight.”
The way of Jesus’ protection is very different. It would seem to be a weak response, the way of defeat and loss to the foxes of our world. But is it?
It depends on your faith as to who in the end won, the hen or the fox? On the one hand, there are feathers and blood all over the place and chickens running for cover. But on the other hand, as time goes on, it become clear what Jesus, the hen, had done. He refused to run from the fox and he also refused to become one of the foxes. He finds his victory in death, because he believes that there is something much stronger than death at work in himself.
We have been trying to figure it out ever since haven’t we? How do you live in a world filled with foxes? How do we find safety and protection? There are not easy answers. Christians have and do respond in many ways. But still Jesus calls us to consider a different way. It is NOT what we expect - it is an uneasy way. But he tells us that on this way, love is more powerful than death or anything the world can do to us.
I wonder sometimes when I think about Jesus on that road to the cross. As he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemene, as he was betrayed, arrested, abandoned, interrogated, mocked, scourged, hung on a tree to die, what did Jesus say to himself to get him through that time? Perhaps he said, “The Lord is my life and my salvation, whom shall I fear.” 2/24/2010How many of you have ever watched a reality television program? Most of us have. If you like reality based television programing you are going to connect with the gospel reading we have this morning. Jesus is in the spot light and we are about to discover the stuff he is made of. The show’s host is the devil himself and he is not about to let Jesus off the hook easily. Jesus is run through a series of three different tests. This is an extreme reality show: for forty days Jesus fasted and lived in the desert in isolation.
It is very clear from the reading that the devil is well prepared for his part. He has studied up very well on the scriptures he needs and can quote them freely. Jesus knows the scriptures also, but even more importantly, Jesus knows what the scriptures tell him to do. The devil tempts him with three things; bread, power, and protection. And Jesus says “no” to the bread, “no” to the power, “no” to the protection. Jesus maintains his focus . . . Under the most brutal of situations, Jesus continues to focus on worshipping and trusting God.
It is important to notice where this story took place. It happened in the wilderness. The wilderness is a desolate, hot, abandoned place, but it has come, through the ages, to stand for those times in our lives that are emotionally and spiritually desolate and painful and isolated and confusing. We have all been there in the wilderness - and if you have not - I warn you that you will one day go there.
The wilderness may be sitting at the darkly lit kitchen table late at night staring at a bundle of overdue bills and notices that sinks your heart in despair.
It may be dingy, old hotel room and a hard bed when you have left your house after a fight with your spouse.
It may even be a vague but constant sense of dissatisfaction with your life even when on the face of it you have everything you said you ever wanted.
It may be an empty house once filled with noisy teenagers and chaos you thought you couldn’t wait to be rid of until you are left looking at a spouse you no longer know so well.
It can be the quiet house on a long day weeks after the relatives have gone home and the casserole dishes have been picked up and the thank you letters have been completed and pain of loss finally sinks in.
The wilderness is that isolated place where you find yourself caught in between what has been your life and the confusion of what is yet to be your life. It is often a place where we powerless to do anything but wait. What used to sustain you is not there. Even God does not seem to be there. It is the same place where the Hebrew people found themselves when they were caught between bondage in Egypt and the Promised Land - wandering for 40 years somewhere between curse and blessing.
The impulse you have when you are in the wilderness is that you just want to get the heck out of there as fast as you can and as easily as you can. “Someone tell me what to do.” “Give me a pill or something.” So many addictions (like nervous eating, watching too much TV, video games, over-spending, obsessive gambling, alcoholism) are nothing but running away from a place of wilderness. Addictions are our little gods which we find easier to worship rather than wait for the true God who is truly capable of nourishing our soul.
We do not value wilderness experiences in our culture very much and we don’t make allowances for the way they have of interrupting our lives. I remembering being at the home of a prominent family after the father in the family -- a successful middle aged dentist had committed suicide. I was surprised that the sink was iced down with beer and there was dozens of bottles of booze opened on the bar. Everyone was drinking. A doctor, a friend of the family handed the wife an anxiety medication and said, “Take this. It will take you out of your pain.” At the funeral, only scripture was read. Not one word was spoken about the life of the one who had taken his own life. The message was so utterly clear: Don’t feel the pain. Move on. Let this go NOW.
This tragic, truly tragic event this past week of that angry bitter man crashing his airplane into the IRS building and before that, setting his own house on fire with his family in it, was so painful to watch. But the real pain is that I know and you know, it will happen again. We are a very violent society - with too many angry, bitter people walking around. Of course I do not pretend to have any idea as to what made this man to commit such a crime. But this I do know: We make so little allowance for people to constructively grieve and work through the darker emotions of their lives. When you bury everything, things explode in unpredictable ways.
Jesus would teach us a different path. What is remarkable about the story of Jesus’ temptation is that it was a chosen event!!! The Spirit lead Jesus into the wilderness to confront his demons. Jesus, before beginning his public ministry, willingly followed. When he is given the easy way out, he turns it down. Jesus was not tempted to do evil things. He was tempted with good things, with bread, the power to achieve something, protection from harm. But they were not true things, because they were not from God. In the moments when God seemed absent, Jesus remained true and then in the right time the angels came and ministered to him. This is how Jesus began his ministry - it was the intentional preparation of his soul. Out of that work he will ministry and heal and proclaim good news.
I want to share something with you that is from my own journey that I hope will help you think about your own life’s call and work. I shared a bit before about going through a divorce in the last church I served in MIssissippi. It was emotionally devastating, the most difficult challenge of my life. I did not focus on it much, at the time, but it was more humiliating than I then let myself know. On the one hand, the church I was serving could not have been more loving, forgiving, and accepting. They valued my ministry and me as their associate pastor.
But on the other hand, the temptation was for them and for me to just try to move on and act like nothing had ever happened. It was just so awkward for everyone. We did not talk about it. A letter went out to the church explaining what had happened and that was the end of it. One of the leaders of the church said to me, two months later, “well you are over this now, you can get on with your life.” Over it? How do you just get over it and move on?
Of course, that is what I did for a time, trying just to rise above it all and move on. Grief has a way of catching up with us. And about a year later, I was about to go crazy inside. Finally, I reached out for help with a spiritual guide. He would listen to all my gibberish and just sit there quietly until his silence forced me to begin to face that WILDERNESS SPACE DEEP WITHiN. It was in the pain that I found the healing; it was in the pain that I found God with me and the angels of God ministering to me.
It is unfortunate, that the United Methodist church did not have at the time a sabbatical policy that allowed for pastors to take some time within an appointment. You had to leave the church you served and then take the time on your own and that is what I did. I took a sabbatical year to heal and listen more intentionally to how God was leading me. I am here - now - because of that time. What I have to offer you as a pastor comes out of that challenging time and working through of a wilderness experience. Without it, you would not get so much from me.
It was the same for Jesus and it is the same for you. Jesus began his ministry by going inward, by choosing an intentional time of leave - of going into the wilderness and facing that which within himself will make him or break him in his ministry. There is soul work - that each person needs to do. Doing that work empowers your spiritual life and your ability to heal and love others. Without it, you have little to offer.
So we are in the season of Lent. It is a much more somber time. The music, some tell me, can sound more like a dirge. There are awkward moments of silence in our worship now. We speak of death and loss. We talk about sacrifice, giving things up for Lent. Some will stay away from worship now and wait for a more joyful Easter sound. Others will grudgingly go along wishing for something more uplifting.
But the church in its wisdom, in its oldest traditions, recognizes that this is just what we sometimes need and the spiritual journey requires. The Spirit is leading us now, like it lead Jesus, into a time of wilderness. Let us let go all that takes us from God and open ourselves for all that will bring us to God. Let us do what it takes to face and contend with the demons in our lives - that God may live more completely in us and that our Easter joy this year will be genuine. 1/6/2010
Every year, during the Christmas season most of us have an event that happens in our homes. We go down in the basement or up in the attic and dust off that box that says, Christmas decorations. Perhaps it now feels like a chore or maybe this is one of the joyful highlights of the season, but for almost all of us it is a nostalgic experience, flooding our hearts and minds of Christmases past.
When I was a teenager, I would go up in the attic and find the cardboard box that contained my family’s Christmas treasures, carefully climb up down the attic ladder and excitedly bring out the container of memories. While my dad fussed with untangling the Christmas lights and figuring out which lamp was causing the string not to light up, my brother and sister and I would reach in that box and each pull out one of the three little elves that had our names written on them and place them on the tree.
Now the very bottom of that box, there was a large wooden box - that only my mom would pull out. It was very finely crafted porcelain manger scene - each detailed with careful precision and painted with royal colors. Along with those figurines was a stable constructed with small pieces of rough sticks and tiny bits of hay.
I remember that manger scene because of the way in which is was to be handled. Only my mother was to touch it and only my mother’s particular way of organizing the figurines could be trusted. This has always stood out for me because my parents were not particularly restrictive parents when it came to not letting us touch breakable items in the house - but that manger scene was the exception. It had a sacred quality to it. When she held the manger and the little Jesus baby in her hands, it was as if she was holding the little Lord Jesus. She placed them out so carefully, so precisely, and always in order of each characters appearance in the story. So the wise men came last - holding their gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh.
For my mother, for my family, there was something sacred about that manger scene. Those beautiful but ordinary objects pointed us to what was truly valuable and important in life. Put those objects under the heel of your foot and you could crush them. If the house were to burn down, they would be gone. But for us they provided meaning for our family, a reminder of the deeper meanings and values of our faith. As something sacred, they pointed beyond themselves to a faith that is more real, more valuable than any object on this earth. That is what the sacred does: it reorientates us to who and what we are about.
I believe that we have lost that sense of the sacred. One Saturday morning, a pastor friend of mine was down at the church and a few of the men were cleaning up and doing some repairs in the sanctuary. They had worked hard most of the morning when the pastor went to get a drink of water. When he came back in the sanctuary, there were four of the men gathered around the communion table where they had pulled up some chairs and were playing a game of cards. They were not gambling, they were just playing cards. But there on the table that for a hundred years people had come to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion they were playing cards. And written below, the words, “In Remembrance of Me.” Do you get what I mean? Is there nothing sacred?”
A car full of young people was driving down the road and they get stuck behind a funeral procession. There was the hearse in front, followed by the cars with the family of the deceased, and all the cars of other relatives and friends in support. The young driver grew impatient - so impatient that he blared on his horn and continued to do so as he passed the entire funeral procession and cut back in front of it. But there is some justice in this world. A police car witnessed this and pulled over the car and gave the driver a ticket and a lecture. But the father of that young driver contested the ticket on behalf of his son, because, as he put it, “there is no law against what he did.” But is there nothing sacred?
Walk over to the manger scene, take a look at the figurines of the wise men. Now go beyond all the cultural images and ideas that have romanticized this story over the years and hear again what this powerful tale, this sacred tale has to tell us. At the very heart of the story - what we have are wise people on a search, on a journey. There is so much about these people we do not know. Tradition has it that there were three of them, because of the three gifts - but we do not know if there were really three or even if they were all men. We are not sure exactly where they came from, only that they were from the Far East and that they were people of another religion who studied astrology.
What we do know is this: They were searching for something and they were willing to go on a long and challenging journey away from home to find it. It was a search for something sacred in their lives. They wanted to find that which would be worthy of giving meaning to everything else in their lives. They were willing to follow the star that was given them to take them to this new place in their lives.
Don’t get caught up in the speculation about where we can find astronomical evidence of the convergence of the planets at the time of Jesus’ birth. You will miss the deeper meaning of the story. The star is the gift of grace that God gives us to guide us to Christ and the way of Christ. For those who hunger after the sacred, that star will be found - even if you are from a different religion or culture or someone who feels lost and has many questions.
As these wise people reveal to us, the only thing that matters is that we listen to the hunger in our hearts for something sacred, for something that will leave us in awe and wonder, that we can bow down on our knees and worship. And then the only thing that matters is that we be willing to receive the grace given to us and be willing to take a journey where God’s grace will take us.
Every single one of you have this hunger inside of you. Every single person longs to know that there is something in this world that will give their life meaning and purpose and importance beyond the ordinary distractions of this life. Every single one of us wants to know that there is something or someone that will help us to understand the place and the importance of everything else in our lives. We all want to understand how I am to be in relationship to those close to us and to the stranger as well. We all want to understand what the meaning of our work is - why I toil and give myself each day.
This is what Christ does for us. This child - this Emanuel - God with us - is the sacred - the journey end in our discovery of him. In Christ, the sacredness of everything else is revealed. The true beauty of this created world is revealed to us. We come to a deeper valuing of our relationships, the creation, and the gift of our own life.
But now there is the danger that we will bow down and worship that which is not worthy of our worship. We see this in the other important character in this story and that is King Herod. In Herod the search never went beyond his own little life. For Herod, there is nothing is sacred. We know this because anyone who could order the murder of innocent, young children could possibly have any sense of the sacred left in them. All that matters for Herod is...Herod: his desires, his will, his power. When you bow down and worship power, everything else is judged as either enhancing that power or as a threat. Herod is for us an illustration of what it means to be so completely lost that we make ourselves the absolute center of this world and expect everything and everyone to revolve around us.
The last time I went on pilgrimage to Assisi, Italy, we journeyed outside of Assisi, up in the mountains and hiked up to a remote chapel in the woods. The chapel was built on a legend. About a 1000 years ago, thieves broke into a poor town church just down the mountain from where the chapel now is. Those thieves made profane the tiny chapel that was the center of faith for the towns people. And they took the Ciborium, which is the container that holds the reserve communion bread that has been consecrated into the body and the blood of Christ. In that poor town, in that small church, the solid gold, ciborium was the single most valuable object in the town. It held the body of Christ and was a focal point through which the people were reminded of the love and grace of Christ.
Frantically, they sent a search party after the thieves to recover what was stolen. Up on the mountain, where the chapel now stands, they discovered the consecrated communion bread. The thieves had discarded it as some unimportant object and went off with the Ciborium. When the search party found the Ciborium the search ended. For as important as the Ciborium was as a sacred object in their worship, the host, the body of Christ they knew was that which gave life and meaning to the people.
On that spot where the host was found, an ever flowing stream began to flow and on that spot of life-giving water the chapel was constructed. It is to that holy place that people today make a journey to discover there the presence of Christ in their lives.
I do not know the particular path you are on. Each of us has our own journey to make. Listen to the hunger in your heart for the sacred. Look in your lives for the star of grace God will provide you and follow that star.
Where will it lead you? This morning it will lead to this place where “This is my body which is given for you” and “This is the blood of the new covenant shed for you.” Let us prepare with expectant hearts to receive the gifts of the Christ child. Luke 2:1-20
Many years ago, I attended church at a friend’s place of worship. The pastor in that church was a slight man, but with a booming voice. He held in his hands a large black Bible which he referred to numerous times through out his sermon. His hands at times would hammer the pulpit and his voice raise to drive his point home. He spoke of sin and sinners and judgment.
I doubt there was very much if anything that he said that I did not agree with. But the more I listened to him, the more he seemed to be just so, so very angry. His words did not seem to me to come from a place of love but out of fear. As his voice grew louder and louder, I had the feeling he was desperately attempting to convince us of something he secretly feared no one would believe, including himself.
A funny thing happened in that service. There was a young mother in worship and she had a baby that she held in her arms. The baby's eyes were the brightest blue eyes and in that brightly lit church, those eyes just glistened. The mother held that beautiful child and it cooed and smiled and laughed.
Soon the pastor’s words were all in the background, as I found myself enchanted with that little baby, drawn in to the playfulness, the innocence, the joy of that loving child who also could have cared less about the angry sounds coming from the pulpit. I looked up and realized that everyone in sight and sound of that child was, like me, no longer listening to the preacher, our hearts melting by the vulnerability of that child.
How does God come to us? How does God seek us out? Is it with anger and fear and threat? Or does God come to us and draw us in like that child - open and exposed, joyful and playful, wooing us into relationship?
As we read again the Christmas story, there is one eye catching facet in the way Luke, the gospel writer, paints this story for us: the humbleness of Jesus’s birth. It is so intricately and beautifully painted on the canvass of Luke’s version of the story. There is Mary, the young girl, who was engaged but unmarried when she learned of her pregnancy - so very exposed in her culture to condemnation. And yet, she trusts the word of the angel and receives with joy God blessing her life.
There is Joseph, who despite the humiliation, believes the word of the Lord, takes Mary into his life and in his heart.
Both of them together, forced to travel in the later days of her pregnancy, by a remote Roman imperial government, who has no regard for the poor citizen of their kingdom. Mary and Joseph are simply pawns to be moved around by the whims of indifferent rulers.
There are the shepherds - the first to hear the good news of the birth, but the last in their culture in terms of their value and esteem. The later words of Jesus that the “last will be first” are literally fulfilled in their coming to the manger.
There is the dirty, grimy stable and manger, filled with animals and the smell of animals and musty wet straw. Humility is everywhere to be seen in this story. Luke wants us to know, that in this birth, God has acted, but not as anyone would have expected. The fortunes of all are already being reversed.
Then there is the baby Jesus. In so many of the ancient paintings of the nativity, Jesus even as a baby is already specially endowed with a knowing wisdom and with the light of a halo around his newborn head. It is not that the painters have gotten the picture wrong. They paint not history but their faith in the uniqueness of this child and his importance in our lives. But what is remarkable about the story itself is that it is through an ordinary baby in which God comes to bring us salvation. Jesus comes as a common baby, one like the babies born everyday into families.
So step in the Maternity ward, the nursery in the hospital. Look at all those tiny babies, with their itty-bitty fingers, swaddled in warm blankets. You are standing at that window trying to figure out which one is your family’s baby. You struggle to see an identification bracelet, but it is twisted around. And there is this gorgeous baby. Yes, yes, that has got to be her. The nurse see you standing out there, recognizes your face, picks her up and next thing you know you are holding that little child, that bundle of joy in your arms and your heart is just melting with awe and love.1
In that moment - what has gone on in your life before - really does not matter. The future is not your concern in those minutes in time. Your present circumstances outside that ward - do not matter at all. Your heart, your mind, your life has been opened, laid bare by the joy of that little child.
That is how God comes to us - that is how God seeks us out. In such beautiful vulnerability of the baby Jesus, God finds a path to our hearts. What we have done and what we have left undone - has been forgiven. In whatever challenge we face in our life - God is with us. Be we happy or depressed, fearful or excited, relaxed or angry, because of this child - we are now simply beloved. God’s love now has entered into our hearts and a new possibility for life has been born in us.
Right now, this evening is God’s invitation to you to let go. Allow the anger and the fear and guilt to melt away. Let down our guard, if just for a while, to feel love again. Let go our preoccupations with getting it all right, of being perfect. Let go of the mind game of attempting to figure God out. Let go our fears about God or ourselves or about other people. Let go our resentments and hardships. Just for this precious, wonderful moment, allow ourselves to forget all that and be drawn lovingly into the beauty of this God who comes to us as a child.
And when we allow ourselves to be so touched - the Christ is not only born into our world - he has been born into our hearts.
Let us pray. In the magic of this moment - open each of our hearts, Loving God, that your love for us may be born. Before you we bow in awe and amazement. Amen.
1 Fred Craddock, “Have You Every Heard John Preach?,” A Chorus of Witnesses, Thomas Long, Cornelius Plantinga, p43
I have a friend who many years ago had an opportunity to go to the White House and meet the President of the United States. Now do you have any idea what it is like to get ready to go meet the President of the United States? What in the world are you going to wear? If you think deciding what to wear to a party at a friends house, is sometimes a challenge... She tried on a pretty red dress. No, don’ t want to appear provocative or flirty. Then dressy pants, heels, and a beautiful blouse that is conservative but stylish. No, maybe not right for a cocktail party at the White House.
About 5 outfits later, she decides on a practical but attractive business dress with the added flare of some nice jewelry that stands out.
Just before she goes, she is just a tangle of excitement and nerves. “Oh", she says, "what in the world am I suppose to say when I shake his hand and meet him?”
Our gospel reading introduces us to seven of the most powerful and influential men in the ancient world. Tiberius, the step son of Caesar Augustus, emperor of all the ancient world. Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea. Herod ruler of Galilee. And then the high priest. The most powerful Jewish men in the ancient world. Men of both religious and political power.
We are introduced to these very intimidating men and then another name is added to the list. “In that time the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah.”
In case you missed the incongruence, let me paraphrase this in modern terms: “In the fourth year of the presidency of Barak Obama, when Pat Quinn was governor of Illinois, and Billy and Franklin Graham were high priests of the nation...in Sherrard, Illinois, there was this guy named John, the son of a small town minister....”
John would hardly seem appropriate to be mentioned in this list of commanding people. In this list of formidable dignitaries, along comes the name of a man who is dressed in animal skins, whose head and beard had never been shaven. We are told that the word of the Lord comes to be with John. It did not come to Pilate, not Herod, not Caiaphas - but John.
Who do you suppose you might find it most intimidating to meet? Tiberius - arguably the most powerful man in the world at that time. Pontius Pilate - a man known to be unusually cruel and unpredictable. Caiaphas and Antipas - imposing religious leaders in commanding positions of power.
I think it would be John who would have been the most intimidating. For one thing his appearance would have been imposing and scary. He wore animal skins and he had never shaven his beard or his head. If you came upon him walking down a city street, you might move to the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Then there were his words, “You brood of vipers...even now the ax is laid to the root of the tree.” I wonder how many of you would show up week after week if I used such words in my sermons directed at you?
But more than his dress and more than his words, there was something more intimidating about meeting John. What would be intimidating about John was that he puts you in the presence of God.1 As the scripture says, “The Word of God came to John.” In John and the word he has for us, we find God. You get close to John and the light of God starts to shine on you. That is what every person wants . . . to be in God’s presence and it is what every person does not want.2
Out in the wilderness, out of a burning bush, God calls to Moses, “Moses, come here!” Moses turns to God. “Come here, but don’t come any closer and take your shoes off.” To come to God is to come to a moment of truth; it is to come to a decisive, turning point in our lives. To come before God is to have the light of God’s truth shone on us. We are seen for who we really are.
In 1983, I took a class on “Preaching the Parables" from Professor Ted Hackett. Brilliant man, Episcopal priest, analytical psychotherapist, articulate preacher. I on the other hand was shy, insecure about my writing and my neophyte attempts at preaching the word. Right as class is about to start, he puts his hand on my shoulder, reaches down and whispers, “After class, may I have a word with you?”
Well, I do not know. I am not sure I am ready for this. What’s the word going to be? What did I do? My mind races with the possibilities. Is it my terrible writing? Did I fail to give credit for a quote? Am I going to flunk the class? I am just as nervous as a jello on a tractor. My stomach twisted like rope candy.
Class mercifully ends and he comes over to me. Hands me my paper and says, “Your scholarship on the scripture was exceptional, excellent work.” Who doesn’t want that? But . . . maybe not.
“May I have a word with you?” The doctor comes to the family room just outside the emergency room where the wife is anxiously waiting news about her husband brought in by the ambulance. What is the word going to be?
The boss calls you into the office and says, “May I have a word with you?” Not so sure are we?
A senior in high school opens up a letter from admission at the college she so desperately wants to attend. What is the word going to be?
There is that moment of truth. A moment that changes everything. Meeting God is like that. “Come Lord Jesus,” we pray in Advent, but are we really ready? Jesus says, “Everything that is hidden will be found out, and every secret will be known.” In the words of Jack Nicholson, “You can’t handle the truth” . . . or can we?
But God knows the thoughts of our hearts. As the ancient prayer goes, “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.” Or we pray the ancient Hebrew Psalm, “whether shall I flee from thy spirit, if I make my bed in Sheol, thou art there...”
Before God there are no excuses. No more excuses. What is true becomes known. No more hiding, shifting blame, or denying. The cosmetics have washed off. The mirror is clear as life. The fog has lifted and it’s as bright as a summer day. We are known and seen for who we are.
John comes shouting in the wilderness and it is a moment of truth. Painful perhaps - but good news! “Repent and confess your sins!” And people came - by the droves they came and repented and confessed their sins. And they were forgiven. They were forgiven. What does forgiveness mean? It means a new beginning, a new creation.3
In a sermon, Fred Craddock gives an image of new creation and new beginning. He said, “picture a child, a third grader, trying to do arithmetic in a hurry; the bell is about to ring, the teacher is fussing, ‘children hurry,’ try to erase a mistake, the paper tears, make a black smear, start to cry, teacher comes by, ‘Oh, my goodness!‘ She slides a new sheet of paper there and says, ‘why don’t you just start over.” That is forgiveness; a new beginning. That is what John preached.4
She went through a divorce she desperately wanted to avoid. On December 31 it is final - the marriage is over - the illusions are gone. She knows her guilt and her failure and her pain. That New Year’s eve night she goes into a deep, long sleep and wakes up on New Year’s day in the morning, opens her window curtains, and get this...what was brown, dead grass is now a thick, beautiful blanket of pure white snow. The leafless winter trees are just glistening in the bright winter sunlight of a perfectly blue sky. That is forgiveness, that is new birth.
He comes into worship, his heart heavy with what he knows he has done and what he knows he has failed to do. He joins in with the congregation in the prayer of confession: ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father; we have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us.
And then he hears the words of assurance: “In the Name of Jesus Christ, YOU are forgiven.” He repeats them back, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven.” He takes a piece of bread...not a small piece but a BIG piece because he knows his need is great. He drinks the cup. What taste like grape juice in the mouth goes down like a long nourishing drink of peace.
This is what John gets us ready for. This is what John prepares us for. If you want to make your way to Bethlehem...If you want to receive the gifts of God’s new birth, then take the time, stop and meet John and listen to what he has to say. Yes, I know, you are not sure you are ready for this. But if you do not meet John, you will miss Jesus in Bethlehem.5
1Fred Craddock, Have You Ever Heard John Preach?, A Chorus of Witnesses, Thomas Long & Cornelius Plantinga, p. 43
2 Ibid.
3 Ibid.
4 Ibid.
5 Ibid.
1/5/2010
I invite you to take an imaginative journey with me. Imagine, if you will, a movie camera that is focused now on you. It sees you sitting here in this sanctuary. The camera lens now extends outward to include those sitting around you - your family and friends and fellow church members. It goes upward and pulls back and from above we see the places that we live and work. Still further, and we see the Quad Cities in focus. But it does not stop there. This camera extends into space and we see our country. Then it goes 50,000 miles out and there is our world, the creation in all its stunning glory. From out there we are no longer seen, but we are there - a part of that global view. The view from 50,000 miles gives us a new feeling for our common humanity. Geographic boundaries and ancient rivalry seem petty. We then can see that we are a small blue ball floating in space with 6 billion people on board. We are in this together, all God’s children, one world, one people.
This is a true perspective. You could see this if you had the ability to raise yourself above the earth. We have not had this perspective very long - only since we landed on the moon. Some people think it has had a fundamental impact on our consciousness as world. But we do not think of life from this perspective much and even with it, our day to day focus remains very much on what we can manage to see with our own two eyes.
Now there are at least two possibilities when you see the world from so far out. One is that you can notice that you are no longer visually in the picture and find yourself lost in despair. You can feel you no longer matter that much. You may think that in the larger scheme, your life is a speck of unimportance, a temporary flake of enlivened dust - here today and gone tomorrow.
This is the way many people live. They do not realize their significance. Sometimes they say, “Well if this is the way life is, then I might as well just worry about myself only.” The ancient saying says it all, “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow I die.” This is a real temptation, even for those of us who believe that God has called us to something more.
But there is another way of looking at yourself: you are a part of something much larger than yourself. Your life does matter because it is connected to the whole. Rather than lose yourself in the vastness of it all, you begin to see you have a particular place and role to play. It may not seem like much sometimes, but regardless, those around you are more connected to you than you know, you make more difference than you know. How many of you have seen the movie, “It Is a Wonderful Life?” Why is it that the little movie continues to have such a dedicated following? Every year so many, like myself, find a way to see that movie because it reminds us that our lives are deeply connected and have a hidden valley we may never be aware of. In the movie, a man is about to kill himself, but his guarding angel comes to the rescue and helps him to see that his life has had a profound, far reaching impact on others, far beyond what he or anyone would have imagined. We really never know how much we matter. It is more than we imagine.
When God looks at the world, God sees the whole of creation. God looks on this little blue ball in space and has a deep abiding love. God created it all and cares for it all. As John’s gospel says, “God so loved the world, that God sent his only son.” God loves the whole of it. When the Bible talks about salvation, it does not just talk of salvation of the individual soul, but of the creation. Jesus reconciles the world to himself. He brings a New Creation. God is concerned with saving that which in the beginning God declared as “very good.”
But God also looks out and sees the particulars. God sees you and God sees me. Jesus says, “But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” You have a place in the whole and that place matters. The question is: what do we do within that space we occupy?
Marianne Williamson talks about our interconnection when she says, Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?” Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
I have read the story of John the Baptist many times and preached it often, but this time when I read it, I realized that it has something to tell us about how important each of our actions are. At the very heart of John’s message is the idea that how we live, the actions we take are enormously important to everybody else.
John said that the Christ is coming to bring us back into a deeper community with one another. Christ comes to level the playing field. “The valleys are lifted up” which means that those who are deprived are put on level ground. “The mountains are brought low” which means that those who have all the advantages in this world are brought to a level of equality with those who have been beaten down. The landscape is changed so that we meet one another in the merciful middle. This is a vision of justice. This is a vision of peace.
And John preached a baptism of repentance. Repentance is not moping around feeling sorry for petty sins. Sometimes the church has been guilty of keeping us self-absorbed and preoccupied with our guilt. Nor is repentance only a change of mind and a change of heart. The repentance John proclaimed was a complete metanoia, a complete turning around from self to God. In today’s gospel we see that this includes taking very specific action to make clear changes in our behavior.
When John’s words begin to sink in, the people began to ask, “What must we then do?” John does not say, “Well I want you to feel real bad, really bad about yourself and your life and the way you have lived it.” Nor does he say, “Just believe in Jesus” and all will be well. It is much deeper than that. It involves an ethical change in the way we live our lives. John says, “If you have two coats, give one to someone that does not have one.” Level the playing field. Create a loving community where all are cared for. John says, “if you have plenty of food, share what you have with someone who does not have any.” How you live your life, matters! Others are depending on you.
John speaks to two groups of people who in Jesus’ day were most guilty of using their position of power to take advantage and abuse the poor. To the soldiers he said, “Don’t extort money and falsely accuse people to fill your own pockets with money at the expense of the weak. Be satisfied with your wages.” To the tax collectors he said, “Collect only what you are assign to collect - don’t rob people for more.” John is telling us, “Use your positions of power, your place in the world, to benefit, not harm those most in need.”
Way back during the Great Depression, there was a farm family struggling just to make ends meet. It is fair to say this Iowa family were practically subsistence farmers - making it by on what they themselves were able to produce. Whatever extra they had, they sold and used the cash to pay for the few items they could not produce themselves.
As hard as life was, they were somewhat more fortunate than many. They had a house, land, and were able to produce what they needed. They did not have a mortgage on the house or the land as many did - though every month remained a struggle to get through. In the larger scheme of life, their position in the world was not so very important.
One day a middle aged couple came by knocked on the door an asked for food, saying they would be glad to do anything to work for it. She gave them a small job that members of her family could have done. Reached up to the cookie jar in the kitchen where the family kept its money, and forked a couple of dollars. This is not the first time she had done this. The young teenage son had seen this before and this time he decided to protest: “Mom, you cannot keep giving money away to these people. You are going to make us poor like them.” His mother looked at him, put both of her hands on his shoulders and said, “Michael, God has given us what we have and the day we do not give to a family like that, is the day that we are truly poor.”
No matter how little we believe we have or how small we believe we are - we are a part of the whole, we share what we have. We do not play small in this world we play very big. We share in God’s economy of the kingdom of God - where the playing field is made level.
One more story from the book, "It Was On Fire When I Lay Down on It". When I was a small child during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light in to dark places where the sun would never shine - in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light - truth, understanding, knowledge - is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world - into the black places in the hearts of men - and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of life.
From the perspective of God, it really does not matter what our position is in life. The only question is: what are we going to do with what we have been given? John says, “Repent and prepare the way for the Lord.” Prepare the way for the child born to peasant parents who revealed by his life just how precious all our lives really are. 11/3/2009
Introduction
I suspect almost everyone here has had an experience with grief and loss. For some of you, your loss has been someone dear and close to you. Today many of you are here to remember and give thanks for a family member or a friend, whose loss has forever changed your life. This past year probably has been a year of pain and tears, maybe anger and regret, and loneliness and change. You never fully understand grief and loss until you are in the middle of it.
I hope that you have had significant people be your friend through your loss and the change. No one really can go this alone. There are many people who do understand and who are there just when we have need of them.
However, there are people who mean well, but who say unhelpful “helpful” comments. Sometimes I have heard people say, “He is in a better place now.” or “He is God’s little angel now.” Wouldn’t the better place be with his loved ones and his friends? Others will say, “God has some purpose in this - you will grow from this.” But what sort of damnable purpose justifies this kind of pain and this degree of loss? And we may indeed grow from it, but please don’t minimize my pain by trying to put pretty icing on a bad cake.
The Scripture
This last unhelpful comment brings up a rather bewildering question about something Jesus did in our gospel story today. Jesus received news from his best friends, Martha and Mary that his good friend, Lazarus, is gravely ill and he is asked to come at once to help him. What does Jesus do? He waits two days - he waits. And then, when he decides to go, he tells his disciples in a matter of fact way that Lazarus their friend is dead. Furthermore he is glad this has happen so that they may believe. He adds that it is all for God’s glory.
I do not know about you, but I have never felt too satisfied with that answer on Jesus’ part. For God’s glory? Wouldn’t God be more glorified if Jesus had gotten there on time to prevent this tragic loss in the first place?
Martha and Mary, Lazarus’ sisters, and Jesus’ good friends, are not too happy about this either. Martha confronts Jesus with her truth: “Jesus, if you had been here my brother would not have died!” In other words, where were you when we needed you? Why did you not come when we asked you to? Then later on, sister Mary with the same questions: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” And still later on, after we see Jesus crying, the crowd that has gathered questions Jesus' sincerity. Some say look how he loved Lazarus. But others say, “Well, if he had really loved him, he would have come sooner.” Friends don’t let friends die when they can do something about it.
Now what is going on here? Why does Jesus delay? One of the things I noticed in looking at the story this time is that the story is like a parable. I am not saying it did not happen; I am only saying that this story, like the parables of Jesus, capture honestly what reality is like, but they transform our perspective so that we come to see reality in an entirely different manner. This story tells us honestly what our experience of death is like, but then it gives us an entirely new perspective on death and God’s ability to transform death into life.
Our Experience of Death
The story is true to what we sometimes experience. We are dumbfounded by death. Why does God, like Jesus, not come and spare us the pain of such losses? If God really cares, why does God not protect us from such tragic, terrible losses? Why do we have to endure death and loss?
Death has the power to shake the foundation of our lives to the core. Physically we are affected. Our bodies feel the pain like an illness and sometimes we do get ill from grief. Our social life is shaken up. We don’t know now how to fit in or we don’t feel like talking to people. Our mental functioning is confused. We do not think straight. We forget things. Sometimes we may even feel we are out of our minds. Our emotions are out of control. We no longer seem to be the masters of our own emotions. We cry or feel irritated at all the “wrong” times and all the “wrong” places. Professionally, we don’t seem to be very productive and in our world there is not much grace for people going through a loss in the work place. Those of you who are still grieving the loss of a loved one - Don’t let anyone every tell you that you should be over this by now. There is no set time table for grief. Everyone has their own way and pace of grieving. Spiritually, we can find that our very assumptions about God are all challenged. Where is God? Does God really care?
Jesus’ Experience of Death
This story, true to our lives, raises those questions for us. And then something significant happens. Jesus sees Mary weeping and the crowd with her and then Jesus weeps. Jesus cries. Now there is a lot of debate as to why Jesus is crying.
Some say he is crying because of the death of his friend, Lazarus. That would seem to be the obvious answer. Only problem is: Jesus does not seem to be upset when he waited for Lazarus to die and he seems to have such confidence that he will be resurrected, why would he cry?
Some say that the Greek word translated “weep” really needs to be translated Jesus was “angry” or “disturbed". And they propose Jesus is upset that the people around him are slow to believe. He is not really crying - he is angry.
Some point out - helpfully, I think - that Jesus is crying because he knows that, as soon as he heals Lazarus, Jesus himself will be signing his own death warrant and exchanging places with him. In John’s gospel, it is because of this miracle the leaders of Israel feel so threatened that they determine to kill Jesus.
It maybe that all those things were going on inside of Jesus. But I will tell you what I think. Something more profound was happening in that moment. Jesus was having an epiphany. In that moment, standing before the threshold of his dear friend's grave, seeing the pain of Lazarus’ sister, realizing his own death was fast approaching, something happens within Jesus‘ spirit. Jesus identifies with all of us. In that moment, he confronts the pain of death for all of us - and he cries like all of us and maybe he is even angry at death like us.
So this story tells us that death is an inevitability. It is an unavoidable part of life. We have no choice about it. Do not ask me why. It is just the way life is. This story is honest, because it does not try and take us away from that reality. It does not try to explain death away with some trite cliché. But it also tells us, that God is with us - God takes upon God’s own self - through Jesus, the son, the pain of death.
Perhaps for some of you, it is enough that God simply understand and identify with us in the experience of death and loss. But this story does not leave us there. It has an even greater message of hope. Jesus shouts at the top of his lungs, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth.” And Jesus said, “Unbind him, and let him go!”
Yes, death is inevitable, but in Jesus life is inevitable. Our God is more powerful than death. God has the final word. This is our faith. This is our hope.
Application to Our Losses
Many of you who are here today have lost a loved one in this past year. There is perhaps no time in our life when our faith - what we believe about the purpose of life and our ultimate destiny - becomes so essential than at the time of the death of a loved one or a friend. It is then we most need to know and trust that death does not have the final word.
It is unfortunate in our time that funerals have often been reduced to only celebrations of the life of our loved one. It is that, of course, but it is much more. Something far more profound is happening in a funeral. More profoundly, a funeral is about helping our loved one complete the journey of his or her baptism. In the funeral we are walking the last steps with our loved one and we hand them back to God. We go the last leg of the journey with them and then are reminded that this journey for them is not over. We can let go, because God holds on.
Today gather around the holy communion table to receive the holy sacrament of communion. It is the long standing belief of the church that when we gather around the communion table we are meet there by not only Christ our host, but by all the saints of God - our loved ones who have gone before us. We call it the communion of the saints. It is here, in Christ, that we can experience and know their presence with us. This meal bridges eternity with us. In this meal we eat today is bread from heaven - a taste of the meal we one day will share in heaven. In the very act of sharing and in eating this meal we are united again with one another and we share in the hope embodied in “I am the resurrection and the life” has met us here.
No matter our loss therefore let us prepare to come and to receive. For in this meal we know that Christ has the final word and the word is not death...it is life. 9/14/2009“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me!” They are just words...Do you agree with that? You do not agree, do you? Every single person here has had many experiences that say the statement is not true. When was a word spoken to you that was carelessly said and affected you negatively?
I remember one of those times when I was making the decision to go to theology school. The decision to go to theology school was not an easy one for me. I’ve known some people who told me that they had an undeniable word from God they could not resist following. It was not like that for me. I stewed over the decision. But I had some intuition that just persisted and I decided that I should simply follow it and see where it would lead.
It was in the Spring time before I graduated from college when a young Christian guy that I knew asked me, “Allen, what are you going to do when you graduate?” I said, “Well, I’ve decided to go to seminary.” Quickly, he said, in voice where everybody else could hear it: “Allen - was that just your decision...or have you REALLY prayed about this?” Even though I knew his intention was not to hurt me - and that his remark came out of his rather arrogant assumptions about my brand of Christianity, it was a careless remark that wounded me and haunted me and stayed with me.
Are they just words? Words sometimes appear trivial. As one writer points out, they have no substance, no solid form. You can not weigh a word.
We live in a time when more and more it seems words are just seen as innocent speech - they are just words. The freedom of speech has started to mean that it does not matter how we speak. Maybe it is because we live in a highly psychologized culture that says, “express yourself” - don’t hold back - let your feelings go. Listen to the public debate, “What do you hear?” Poison. Spin. Words that are meant to win an argument but have little relationship to the truth. Listen to the way people speak to each other, “What do you hear?” Carelessness. Rudeness. A lot of superficiality.
But are they so innocent? Words are in reality a form of power. They have the power to bless and the power to curse, the power to build up and the power to tear down, the power to save and the power to damn. Listen. “You have cancer!” “I don’t love you anymore.” “I love you so much.” “Daddy.” “Thank you.” “I am sorry, I am so sorry.” Can you feel that? Can you sense the power of those words?
Our Biblical tradition tells us something very different about the power of words. There is such wisdom in this ancient biblical text that we in our time so need to hear. A fellow pastor tells about his disbelief when his Sunday School teacher first told him the story of blind, old Isaac's pronouncing the blessing on the wrong son. You remember the story...Jacob, the second-born, son, tricked his older brother and fools his blind, old father into pronouncing the paternal blessing on the wrong kid! That blessing, once spoken, give the majority of the family wealth to the one it is spoken to.
When he heard the story, it just did not make sense. “So he pronounced the blessing on the wrong son: "Why didn't he just take it back?" You know when you are young, if you did something you didn’t like, you just declare a “do-over.” It is like a Mulligan in golf. No real problem. Take back the blessing and give it to the right son!
“But his teacher told him that for the Hebrew people words had power which, once spoken, once let loose in the world, could not be called back or retrieved. Like arrows flung in flight from a bow, they could never be taken back.” Like King Kong let out of his cage. Once it is out - there is no going back. It will do what it will now do. Word are powerful. They are not simply labels for things. They are not innocent.
The writer of the book of James would tell us that our words have such great power and there is such danger in how we chose to use them. One of the great affirmations in the book of James is that all of us are made in the image of God. Imagine that: we are made in the image of God! But what does it mean? Does it mean that we look like God? Surely not. Does it mean we have free will? Yes, that is the most common way of understanding it. Does it mean we have dominion over the earth? According to the book of Genesis we do, for good or for evil, we do.
However, there is a deeper meaning to the phrase which goes along with these meanings. We are a reflection of the essences of God. The essence of God is that God is always creating. With WORDS God creates. God speaks, “Let there be light!” and the light shines through the darkness. God speaks, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kind...” and the world is teaming with life. God speaks, “Let us make human beings in our image...and God created them male and female.” “And the WORD became flesh...” in Jesus the Christ - the power to create new life was born and dwelt among us.
This same power of words - to speak a word and to create life, to build up life is given to us. This same power to speak a word and to tear down and to destroy is given to us. Of all God’s good creatures on earth, we alone are given the power to create or to destroy with our words. The ability to speak a WORD is a part of our affinity with God.
James tells us that we who have power of words - the power to create or to destroy - are always in the midst of a spiritual struggle. It is not just a matter of whether we are going to be nice and polite and appropriate. On a daily basis, we make a decision about whether we are going to join God in creating a beautiful world or we unite ourselves with darker forces in our world to tear down and destroy.
We all know intuitively what James says is true. Most of us can look back at our childhoods and remember the people who shaped us for good or for bad. I remember my second grade teacher, Ms. Harmon. I do not know why she was so abrupt, so abrasive with her words - but she was. I did not hold my pencil correctly. My handwriting from very early on was poor. The joke in the family was that I should have been a doctor with bad writing like that. For Ms. Harmon it was not a joke. She patroled the room with ruler and one day when she came by my desk - she slapped the back of my hand with that ruler and shouted for the room to hear, “Can’t you even hold your pencil straight?” I was so humiliated. When the last month of school she got such a bad case of poison ivy and had to stay home...I was happy.
I did not tell my parents until the end of the year and they made sure that the next year, I had an affirming teacher, Ms. Ferris. She was a member of my church and a woman of warmth and sincere faith. We did a geographical workbook and I chose to do it on the country of India. She came by my desk and handed me back my project. “Allen, how did you feel about what you did?” “I don’t know;” I said as I looked down, “I guess, ok....” You should feel great...it is one of the best anyone did.” I looked down and there is an “A+” and a “good job” crocodile stamp on the front cover. She was only doing her job, but her words were like the words of an angel, words of grace for a kid who so needed a little encouragement.
I am sure that Ms. Ferris has no memory of what she did for me or any of the words she used. But I do. I do.
James would tell us to be careful how we use our words. They have power. We participate in the creative power of God or in the destructive power of evil in this world. Let me ask you to think about something: How do you speak to the people in your life you most cherish? Do you consider carefully the words that you choose? “Are you slow to speak, and quick to listen,” which is what James instructs his church to be. Our ability to listen and to understand one another is the best antidote to careless speech. So do you honor those you love by a silence that allows you to really hear them? When you do speak, do your words come out of the peace of Christ that is within you? Do they come out of a reflective silence that knows, your words have the power to build up and also to tear down? James tells us that it is hard to control the tongue. We can tame wild animals, but who can fully control their tongue? Difficult to reach perfection, but do we allow the peace and the love of Christ within us to guide us much of the time?
As we begin this new program year together, let me ask you something to consider: How do you speak about your church? What words do you use to tell others about your love and appreciation for this place? How do you speak about your church when you have a problem? Do you consider carefully how your perception might be spoken to the benefit of the whole or do your words fly out carelessly like blind bats out of a cave into a dark night? James says that our words can be like a tiny spark that starts a wild fire that burns out of control, a fire that comes from the pits of hell itself. Do we realize that how we speak has so much more power than we imagine and that we have been given the same creative power that even God has to build up and to give life?
So we begin this new program year with an invitation from the writings of James to know that we are made in the image of God and have the power to create new life with our word. So how we speak to each other - as teachers, as church leaders and members, as family members, and as citizens of this world - is in reality a spiritual battle that we are called to win with the grace of God. Let us speak in the spirit of Christ.
1 R. Wayne Stacy, The Power to Bless: James 3:1-12, Review and Expositor 97 (2000), I am indebted to this writer for some of the ideas for this sermon. 8/18/2009
Tempers are flaring and words are being exchanged as people, politicians, and special interest groups take sides on the issue of healthcare and the possibility of a National Healthcare plan. As a pastor of a church with many people of very diverse opinions, I do not wade lightly into the swamp of emotions and arguments – many of them increasingly personal - that this debate generates. Humility demands that we all acknowledge that no one can say for absolutely certain what the right plan is. But my job, as a pastor, is to speak from a faith vantage point – especially the issues of morality that are involved. My Christian morality says that the need for our nation to do something regarding healthcare is not debatable – only the details are.
I offer several suggestions for reflection that are influenced by what I understand to be the imperatives of our faith:
One: The principles of justice from both our Hebrew and Christian scriptures demand that all God’s children be shown equitable compassion and mercy when it comes to the care of both the body and the mind. It is not acceptable that some people have great healthcare while others have none or inadequate healthcare. There is hardly a book in the Bible that does not raise the issue of justice for especially the weakest in our society and the marginalized. The core scriptural principle is that God has compassion on us and that we therefore out of gratitude are to have compassion on others. The scriptures are also clear this is not simply a matter of personal morality, but that the nations of the world and its leaders are commanded to act with justice and regard for the weakest. The question is: will we (as a nation/society) be the Pharisee and the Levite in the story of the Good Samarian who pass by the injured man along side the road or will we be the Samaritan who was an enemy of the man but who acted like a friend? For too long, as a nation, we have walked by the man in the ditch when compassion and Christ-like concern demands that we stop and care for the neighbor in need.
Two: The example of selfless concern and the spirit of Christ’s sacrifice demands that we think not only about how any healthcare plan will effect us, but also the most in need. Whatever the plan – we want to be sure that all are covered and that we no longer will tolerate our friends and neighbors going bankrupt in order to pay for healthcare for their loved one. We make sure people are not excluded from affordable healthcare because they have a preexisting condition. We are willing to help pay the cost for those who cannot afford it. Community is not built by everyone being out only for himself or herself. The spirit of Christ means that my neighbor’s child is my child when it comes to being sure he or she receives good healthcare. It has been painful to listen to many people discuss healthcare and say things like, “I should not have to pay for anyone’s healthcare but my own” or only ask, “How does this affect me?” How is that having the mind of Christ?
Three: Let truth reign. There is falsehood on both sides of this debate. Let the light of God’s truth cut through falsehoods being spoken and rumors being spread. God’s truth builds up community and shows compassion and fosters positive movement, it does not distort or tell half-truths or pass on falsehood in the interest of tearing down.
Finally: Our words need to move to positive action. At lot is at stake in this debate. The founding pastor of First Congregational Church, Moline, Rev. Alan Hitchcock, and many of our early members fought a long battle against slavery – they back up their convictions with action. It was controversial with some members in our church, but we now look back at their convictions and know they were on the right side of history. It is up to us to continue the tradition of social involvement for the common good. We may not bring the Kingdom of God on earth, but we can give the world a humane taste of what God’s reign of justice is like. That will happen if we can do our part to bring about meaningful healthcare reform.
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