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Aug 24 2011
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Sermons

You Control You: Identity and Victory

I love the Bible, but…

Never thought you’d hear your pastor say that, eh? I love the Bible, but some passages are difficult.  I’m not talking about vocabulary. I’m not even talking about the teaching. I’m talking about certain verses that I understand clearly. I just don’t like what they say.

Take today’s reading. Is it just me, or does Jesus seem like a jerk? This lady comes to him for help, and he calls her a dog. First he ignores her. Then he says, “I didn’t come for you people.  I came only for the lost sheep of Israel.” This is not the savior I signed up for.

It is, however, a perfect fit for his times. Rabbis of his day did not associate with foreigners, and especially not women.  If you dig through some older Jewish Orthodox prayer books, you can still find the prayer, “Thank you lord, that you did not make me a non-Jew, that you did not make me a slave, that you did not make me a woman.”  Don’t grumble at me. I didn’t write it!

That’s the culture Jesus lived in. When his enemies wanted to challenge him, they brought him a woman caught in adultery. Last time I checked it takes two, but the Pharisees only brought the woman. When his disciples found Jesus talking with the Samaritan woman at the well, they didn’t say, “Why are you talking to a Samaritan?” They said, “Why are you talking with that woman?” So, if Jesus is being sexist or racist, he’s only acting just like a normal first century rabbi.

When a Roman soldier asked Jesus to heal his son, Jesus talked to him, offered to come to his house, and publicly applauded the man’s faith. But when this woman asks for the same thing, he gives her a hard time. It doesn’t make sense! Or maybe it does, and I just don’t like it.

Our other text today offers a possible solution. How many of you have seen the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?  Exactly, you know the story. This is right at the end, when Joseph finally meets his brothers, only now they’re starving and he’s the prince of Egypt.

Joseph says, “Don’t be distressed or angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you… So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God.” Betrayed, beaten, sold as a slave, falsely accused, thrown in jail, and now he says, “It was not you who sent me here, but God.”

You heard me tell the kids that this story is about you controlling you. You can’t control what happens, but you can control how you react.  That’s true. It’s powerful advice, which is why you’ll hear it from self-help gurus and motivational speakers.  If that’s all you hear today, it will do you good.  But there’s more.

Is Joseph really the hero of the story?  Yeah, he’s clearly the protagonist who succeeds against all odds. But let’s reframe the question. Does Joseph secure his own victory? No. The unseen hand of God guides the entire story, planting the seed of victory in the very first chapter, when he gives Joseph prophetic dreams and the ability to interpret. It was the dreams that catapulted Joseph from the prison floor to the throne room.

This is going to sound strange, but I think it’s true. Joseph doesn’t win. He repeatedly avoids defeat.  This story could have ended horribly at any time if Joseph had just given up.  All he had to do was quit working so hard, quit trying to be good, quit dreaming, or quit living.  The whole world was against him. It would have been so easy to quit. Defeat was always completely within his reach. He just didn’t accept it. How did he do it?

How did the martyrs hold on to their faith?  How did the saints of old succeed when so many others failed? It’s about identity. If you haven’t heard of Henri Nouwen, look him up. He’s an amazing writer, one of the greats of our time. He has this to say about identity:

“Over the years, I have come to realize that the greatest trap in our life is not success, popularity, or power, but self-rejection…When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity, and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions. The real trap, however, is self-rejection. As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone, or abandoned, I find myself thinking, “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.” … [My dark side says,] I am no good… I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected, and abandoned. Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the “Beloved.” Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence.”

Brennan Manning says: “Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.”  As a pastor it is tempting to me, to try to convince to you center your identity in the church.  Obviously, there’s some self-serving going on there. But it’s a strong temptation specifically because it does you good too. It does us all good.

Imagine we’re all over in London right now, and there are rioters running through our neighborhoods stealing what’s valuable and burning what’s not.  Who do you think is going to do better?  The person who is out there alone, or the one whose identity is grounded in a committed group?

We don’t have to wonder. We already know. London’s Green Street is a high-end shopping district. Over 200 retail showrooms including jewelry stores. Sounds like a prime target, right?  Nope.  Because hundreds of Asians, the friends and family of local shop owners, stood together and sent those looters running.  On Kingsland High Street, it was the Turkish community standing strong. You might have heard about the three men that got run down by a car in Birmingham? Their neighbors called them heroes for defending their neighborhood. They were Pakistani.

Are you sensing a pattern here? Identity beats chaos. Random anger can cause a lot of damage, but tight-knit community pulls people through. It’s the moral of every great sports movie. Random individuals become a team. They work through their hang-ups, learn to rely on each other, and succeed against all odds. Together, we are building something to survive whatever may come.

As beautiful as that is, it is not the goal.  Remember, “Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.” Which may be the solution to our very first problem. Is it possible that this woman knows exactly who Jesus is? Is it possible that her identity is secure enough that there is even room for laughter? She asks for help, and he pretends to be just like any other rabbi. But she doesn’t quit. His disciples try to send her away, but she doesn’t quit. Jesus says “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” And she contradicts him! “Yes it is! Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Jesus just got done teaching “his people” about real faith that comes from the heart, and his holy people rejected his teaching. Well, if the kids are too stuck up to eat the meal, what do you do? Give it to the dogs! She takes the racial slur and turns it into a badge of honor because her identity is not grounded in what anyone else thinks. Her value is not lessened by what anyone else says. She can face what comes because while everyone else was arguing, she was listening.

So when the rabbi ignores her, she is brave to approach. When the disciples shoo her away, she is undaunted. When he spouts the usual tripe about Jews and Gentiles, she calls him on it, because her identity is rooted in the radical, relentless love of God. And at that moment, her daughter was healed.

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First preached at First Congregational Church of Saugatuck on August 14, 2011.
Texts: Matthew 15:10-28

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You Control You: Identity and Victory is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Link to revsmilez.com.

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Aug 09 2011
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Sermons

Get Out of the Boat


If you grew up in church, I imagine you’ve heard quite a few sermons about Peter’s brief attempt at water walking.  Most of the ones I’ve heard something like this: “Peter should have kept his eyes on Jesus. He got distracted by the noise and rush of the world. Don’t be like Peter.” But I say, our lives and our world would be better if we all acted more like Peter.

Jesus sends his disciples ahead of him. He tells them to cross the sea. They called it a sea. We’d call it a lake. 13 miles long. 8 miles wide. But here it is, night, and they’re only halfway to the other side. A storm came up, and the wind is right in their face. Their master said to cross, so they don’t quit. They row all night long, and now the dawn is about to break and here comes Jesus walking to them across the water. They’re wet. They’re exhausted. They’re frustrated. This is just the last straw. They cannot believe what they’re seeing, so they have to come up with another explanation. “It’s a ghost!”

Jesus says “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” In Greek, it actually reads “I am.”  Take heart. I am. Does that sound familiar to you? When Moses asked God “Who shall I say sent me?” God answered. “I am what I am. Tell them I AM sent you.”  Take heart. I am. Don’t be afraid.

But the disciples don’t answer. They’re still afraid. They speak when they should be silent and stay silent when they should speak. But Peter? Peter says, “Lord, if it’s you, ask me to come out there with you.” Which, when you think about it, is just about the worst proof-test ever.

Keeping watch in a trench

Photo by HappyA

Imagine we’re back in WWI, in the trenches on the western front. It’s late at night, edging toward morning. You’ve been on guard duty all night. You’re tired and hungry, but you have a job to do, so you keep watch. And out of the mist, you see someone moving toward the line. “Don’t shoot, it’s me!” It sounds a bit like Captain Smith, and it looks though the haze like it might be Captain Smith. So, what do you say?

Exactly!  “If it’s really you, what’s the password?  What’s my hometown? Who plays third base for the Yankees?” You could come up with a hundred good questions to ask. You know what you wouldn’t say?  Not in a million years? “Hey cap, if it’s really you. Call me out there into no-man’s land with you.” What if it’s not really the captain? What if it’s just some German with a good accent? You’d be toast!

It’s not like people in Bible times were stupid. When Jesus was on trial before Herod, He said, “If you really are the Son of God, do a miracle for me.” The soldiers that blindfolded him and beat him said, “If you’re really a prophet, then prophecy. Tell us who just hit you.” When he was hanging on the cross the people said, “If you’re really the messiah, come down. If you’re the savior, save yourself.”

But Peter says, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.” We’re stepping into interpretation now, but the only way I can read it this story so it makes sense is like this: Jesus comes walking through the storm, and the disciples say “This is terrifying!”  But Peter says, “That looks awesome!”

He has enough faith in himself to trust his eyes. He’s just as tired and frustrated as everyone else, but he looks through the fear and the exhaustion to the one he knows. He’s seen Jesus do miracles before. Is walking on walking on water beyond the power of one who can heal the sick, or feed the 5000?

The question isn’t, “Is this really Jesus?” or “Is this really possible?” The question is, “Did Jesus really mean it when he said this life is for us?” So Peter lays down the gutsiest challenge. “If the Jesus I know, the messiah, miracle worker, and Son of God, the one who loves me, if that Jesus is walking on water, I want to do it too.” And his trust in his teacher is so great, that when Jesus calls, Peter steps over the side.

If you’re looking for a moral here, try that one. It was faith that enabled Peter to ask the question. And the very next thing that happens, the very next step, requires greater faith, because he has to step off the boat. The next step requires greater faith, because he has to put his weight on both feet. The next step requires greater faith, because he has to let go of the boat. The next step requires greater faith, because he has to face the storm. How’s that for a moral? You are never done. Faith is about becoming. We’re all worried about getting into heaven someday. God’s worried about changing lives today.

wooden boat

Photo by Jim Boud www.JimBoud.com

You’re a seeker. Great. Get out of the boat. You’re a believer. Great. Get out of the boat. You’re a lifelong believer, and you do good works, and you tithe a tenth of your income, and you run a soup kitchen out of your actual kitchen, and you pray so much people can actually see your halo?  Great!  Get out of the boat. Because where ever you are, whoever you are, God has more to give you, more for you to receive, more for you to become.

You know what happens next, right? This is the part everyone wants to talk about. Peter fails. He looks away. He gets distracted. He gets scared. He starts to sink. Brothers and Sisters, this is not a warning. This is a guarantee. If you try to live a faithful life, if you trust God enough to step out of the boat, you will get distracted. You will get scared. You will sink. It will happen. And when it happens, be like Peter.

He doesn’t swim back. He reaches forward. “Lord, save me!” Even his failure is an act of faith. Call out to Jesus, reach out your hand and lean on him. He can take it! Keep your eyes on him and hold on tight. Once you’re safe, you know what you do next? You follow where he leads, even if it’s out into another storm.

Peter isn’t a warning. He’s an example. When preachers tell the story, they might poke fun, and if Peter were here he’d probably laugh. But looking back, I bet he remembered that day for the rest of his life as the day he walked on water. And I bet all the other disciples remembered it too, as the day they stayed in the boat.

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First preached at First Congregational Church of Saugatuck on August 7, 2011.
Texts: Matthew 14:22-33

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Apr 28 2010
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Sermons

Sermon on the 23rd Psalm: Sheep are Stupid

The 23rd Psalm is possibly the most recognized chapter in the entire Bible. It has brought comfort to thousands, perhaps millions. To my mind, this effectively proves what I have long suspected, that most of us have no clue what this book means.

The Lord is my shepherd. That makes us what? Sheep. I know only two things about sheep. 1. Wool. 2. Mutton. That’s it. Sheep are entirely outside my experience. So I did a little research this week.

Sheep Face by brew ha ha

Original work "Sheep Face" by brew ha ha Shared on a Creative Commons License

How many of you have been to a circus before? Did you see any trained animals? Bears? Elephants? Tigers? You know what you didn’t see? Sheep. You know why? Because sheep are stupid.

Did you know that sheep are the only domesticated animal that cannot go wild? Cats, dogs, birds, horses, pigs, even cows if you set them loose in the world they’ll get thin, they’ll get smart, and they’ll get by. Sheep?  Sheep get eaten.

In the animal kingdom, there are four survival stances: fight, flight, posture, and submit. We see this in armed conflict as well. I can shoot you, I can run away, I can fire a warning shot, or I can surrender. So how does the sheep stack up?

Fight: Sheep have neither offensive nor defensive weapons. No fangs, no claws, no shell, no spray, nothing. On the upside, they do come equipped with about 8 pounds of Velcro all over their body, so you can grab them pretty much anywhere and drag them to the ground

What about flight? For starters, they’re slow. Their eyesight is just as poor as their hearing. They have little strength, less stamina, and no sense of direction. Best of all, they have an over-active startle reflex, and they don’t blend into anything. So even if they could run, they can’t hide.

Posture. Dogs bark, cats hiss, rattlesnakes rattle… Sheep baaa. Baaa! That’s the barnyard equivalent of  “Please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me!” Fearsome, yeah? Dogs raise their hackles, cats arch their back, rattlesnakes coil and lift their head to make themselves appear larger. What can sheep do? How do you puff up when you’re already fluffy?

Sheep know one trick and one trick only. They flock. We used to think flocking was complex behavior. We’d look at the precision of a flock of birds and imagine how hard it would be to fly planes that close together. We know how hard it is to get a hundred people moving in the same direction, but computer science has taught us that flocking is very simple. All you need is a hundred tiny brains, each big enough to hold two rules. 1. If you see a sheep, get closer. 2. Don’t bump into anyone. Here’s how it works.

Here’s the herd. Over here is Little Joe Sheep. Joe sees a wolf. Startle reflex kicks in and he starts to run. No one wants to get bumped, so they all start to run. No one wants to be alone, so they all run together. Notice that the entire flock is running, and the only one who knows why is Joe, and Joe is probably already dead. They keep running until they get tired, the wolf stops to eat Joe, and they live to baa another day. That’s it. That’s their entire survival strategy. Please don’t eat me. Eat Joe. He’s tasty. Run awaaaay!

And God says, “That’s you.” It’s the language of the Psalms and it’s the language of Jesus, when he calls himself the good shepherd. When I was a youth minister, we’d go to camp and the kids would sing this song: I don’t wanna be a Sadducee. I don’t wanna be a Sadducee. Cuz they’re so sad, you see? I just wanna be a sheep baa baa baa baa. I just wanna be a sheep baa baa baa baa. Pray the Lord my sould to keep. I just wanna be a sheep baa baa baa baa.

We have no clue what we’re saying! Sheep are dumb, stubborn, and willful. Even when they have a shepherd around they’re not safe because they still get lost, get drowned, and get trapped. Pick another animal. Any other animal. A rat! Sure, they’re flea infested, disease-carrying scavengers, but at least rats are smart. But God says, “Nope. You’re a sheep.”

shepherd by Reza Vaziri

Original work "shepherd" by Reza Vaziri Shared on a Creative Commons License

Fine. If we’re sheep, let’s learn about the shepherd. If you read Genesis, you’d think being a shepherd is a good thing. All the big names are shepherds. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses. But when the Israelites are taken into exile, they go through a cultural shift from nomad to city dweller. By the time of Jesus, shepherds have such low social status, that their testimony isn’t acceptable in court.

Besides being despised, their job is dangerous. Every shepherd carried a staff for the sheep and a rod for the wolves. The sling was dual purpose. If a sheep started wandering off, you could drop a rock in front of its nose and it would run back to the flock. David showed you what else it’s for.

Suppose it was a good day. No thieves. No wolves. You still have to take care of these stupid sheep. You have to go fetch them when they get lost. They have four legs. You have two. Which means any place they can get into, but not out of, is definitely difficult and probably dangerous for you.

This is the holy land. It’s not like there are green pastures and still waters all over the place. This is hard land divided by dark valleys. Every morning you walk to the pasture. At mid-day you make them lay down, so they can get the most out of their food. In the afternoon, you take them to still water, because they’re scared of running water, because of they fall in, they drown. In the evening, you walk them home. If any are too young or too sick to keep up, you carry them.

Your corral looks like a big circle, a thorny hedge with a tiny opening. You sit in the doorway and hold your staff low so they can only enter slowly, one at a time. One by one, you check them out and count them, and assuming everything’s fine, you lay down in the doorway so that nothing gets in or out except over your body. Tomorrow, you do it all again.

The Bible says there are three kinds of shepherds. The hired hand, who does the bare minimum: feeds them, waters them, and when the wolf comes, abandons them. The bad shepherd drives them. He pushes from behind and smacks them to keep them in line. As a result, the sheep become even more stupid and more skittish. They never learn to exercise whatever intelligence God gave them, so they never thrive. They just survive.

The hired hand abandons them, the bad shepherd drives them, but the good shepherd knows them, and they know him. He doesn’t have to drive them from behind. He leads them from the front, so that whoever attacks has to go through him first. He calls them by name and they come to him. If two good shepherds shared a meal and their flocks became intermixed, they would stand at opposite ends of the field, call out, and the sheep would sort themselves out. The good shepherd is their guide through danger, their gate to safety, their rescue when lost, their healing when hurt. The good shepherd is their life.

What does this mean for us? Three things. First, when we see the phrase, “for his name’s sake” we need to pay attention. If it’s for God’s sake, it’s definitely for our benefit, but probably not for our comfort. All we want is a nice life: enough food, water, and shelter, no pain, no work, no danger. God isn’t satisfied with nice. God is good. Notice the very next phrase after for his name’s sake? “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.” Sound fun to you?

Second, be like the shepherd. Don’t push. Lead. Don’t yell. Call. Share your life and build trust so that when you speak, your people listen. You don’t need to influence everyone. You just need a little flock of people who know you, who trust you, because you know them. You get to decide whose opinion matters, and it’s not the critic.

Third, we are not nearly as tough, smart, or independent as we think we are. And neither is anyone else. I met a man once, a biker who gave his life to Christ, and he talked about what a relief it was not having to be in charge any more. He had spent a chunk of his life making sure that no one, no one, disrespected him or his crew. He had to be constantly aware, not just of what other people were doing, but what they might be thinking. The weight of it drove him to violence and addiction. It wasn’t until he accepted that he was not in charge that he was free to be himself without worrying what anyone else thought.

We are sheep in wolves’ clothing. Trying to be cool. Trying to be in charge and independent. Who are we trying to impress? Other sheep? We think hanging out on the fringes makes us cool. Actually, it makes us dinner. Smart sheep stay close to the shepherd.

Benediction:  The 23rd Psalm brings us comfort because we usually hear it at funerals, or in the hospital, or when things go wrong. When life proves to us that we are not in charge, that despite our best efforts, we are not in control, then we find comfort in the shepherd’s arms. How much joy do we miss, how much time do we waste, trying to prove to ourselves and each other that we’re not really sheep, and we don’t need help? Now go, and may the good shepherd who loves you anyway be your guide, guard, and companion every step of the way.

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Aug 11 2008
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The Third Way

The Third Way – Zen Style

Koans are the zen version of a parable. I found this one via StumbleUpon. (If you haven’t tried it yet, StumbleUpon is both very cool and very addictive.)

One evening as Zen Master Shichiri Kojun was reciting sutras, a thief with a knife crept in. “Your money or your life!”

Shichiri said, “Do not disturb me. You will find money in the cupboard near the wall.” Then he resumed his recitation as the thief began searching the cupboards.

After a few moments, Shichiri paused and called: “Don’t take it all. I need some to pay taxes with tomorrow.”

The intruder gathered up most of the money and started to leave. “Thank a person when you receive a gift,” Shichiri added. The man thanked him and fled.

A few days later, the thief was caught and confessed to many crimes, including stealing from Shichiri. When Shichiri was called as a witness he said: “This man is no thief, at least as far as I am concerned. I gave him the money and he thanked me for it.”

After he finished his prison term, the man went to Shichiri and became his disciple.

I think Jesus would’ve liked Shichiri.

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May 05 2008
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Sermons, The Third Way

Up and Out

Audio here

Title: Up and Out (Confirmation Sunday – shared sermon)
Texts: Acts 1:1-11, Luke 24:44-53
Date: May 4, 2008

UP – Rev. Robert J. Brink
There are three moments in the story of Jesus that we might label, “thin places.” Places where the physical world, and the spiritual world seem for a moment to touch. The first is his baptism, when the spirit descends in the form of a dove, and a voice calls from heaven, “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.” The second is the transfiguration, where Jesus shines like the sun and again a voice calls out from heaven, “This is my son, listen to him.” The third thin place is the ascension, when Jesus gives his great commission to his disciples, promises to send them the Holy Spirit, and then ascends to the right hand of the Father.

What are we to make of this story? It’s not very appealing. There are no masterful teaching moments, no confrontations. He just goes away. If he had stayed with them forever, that would have made a better story, but he doesn’t. If he had gone away and sent the Spirit at the same moment, that would have made for a better story, but he doesn’t. He makes them wait, without him, in Jerusalem. They have to wait until Pentecost before the Spirit comes. And in the meantime, where is he? Off with God somewhere, unreachable.

At least that’s what I always thought. Then I went to seminary and learned something interesting. When Jesus ascended into heaven, he wasn’t leaving his humanity behind. He was bringing it along. So now some piece of us, some part of who we are is united with the very heart of God. It’s not as if he got up there, and said “Phew, I’m glad that’s over, now to get back to this whole eternal perfection thing.” The change Jesus made goes much deeper than that, so that for all eternity, there is a piece of God that identifies with us completely, that understands us at our best and our worst. And since there is no division within God, that piece is not really a piece at all, but is brought up and in, and united with the whole, so that there is no piece of God that fails to understand, no corner of God that sees us as the enemy.

If all this sounds a bit too big for our heads, that’s because it is. God is too big for our heads, so all that we know of God is what God has revealed. There is no way for us to build a ladder of logic that reaches to the sky, no experiment we could create that would prove it. All these things we accept on faith because there is no other way. That’s not an admission of failure, only a recognition of reality. God is too big for our heads.

God may be too big, but God’s revelation is not. God reveals to us things we could never have figured out for ourselves, things that hurt our brains even to think about, and yet they reveal something of the nature of God. The incarnation that we talked about last week is one of those revelations. This week’s ascension is another. Incarnation teaches us that when we look at Jesus we see God, and ascension teaches us that in some way far beyond our understanding, God has become one with us.

Obviously, that process is not complete. God has accepted us, but we have not accepted God. Imagine a couple that gets married but then doesn’t move in together, doesn’t share a bed, doesn’t share bank accounts, doesn’t even see each other except for an hour on weekends. Sure, they’re married, but they don’t have a marriage.

You confirmands have reached the age where you can make choices for yourselves. The vows you made are similar to marriage vows, except directed toward God instead of another person. You’re old enough to know what you’re saying. It will take a lifetime to figure out what you mean, of course, but you’re mature enough to begin. The question is, what kind of marriage will it be? Will you be married in word alone, or will you share a life together?

We’ve all received God’s love, but has it changed the way we live? He ascended so that we could be one with God, and someday he will descend again. We will come face to face with God. And for some of us it will be like coming home again, like remembering a cherished memory long forgotten, like putting on a glove you’ve worn so long it feels like a second skin. It will be the fulfillment of all we have longed for and worked for and hoped for.

But for others, it will be like cold water on the face, like a cloying smell, like ringing in the ears. It will be the unavoidable confrontation with the one we have worked so long and so hard to avoid. This is judgment, not a gavel and a man in a black robe making decisions. Judgment is revelation. Do not fear hell. Fear living your life in such a way that hell would be preferable to living with God.

Our world is full of thin places. Today one of them. It is a chance for us to ascend into the presence of God, to experience a fraction of what will be when we are at last reunited with our creator. You have been chosen. Rise and be loved.

OUT – Rev. Steven A. Peay, Ph.D.
Jesus had been with them as Luke tells us, “he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.” All through his ministry Jesus focused on the kingdom of God, which he preached was “at hand.” The problem was that those listening to him couldn’t get away from the notion that a “kingdom” or “reign” was a place. Jesus was revealing, in himself, that it was not a place, but a person – himself. The kingdom of God was among them and they couldn’t get it. Even after the resurrection and the forty days together they asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Rob’s sermon title from last Sunday would work again here, “you just don’t get it.”

So, he reminds them again that what is important is for them to wait for the coming, in fullness, of the Spirit he has promised. He tells them, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witness in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” There’s the point – Jesus goes UP and now we are sent OUT. The kingdom is now within us and we are to be witnesses to that kingdom right here and right now.

This is what Augustine preached to his folks in the early days of the church:
“Today our Lord Jesus Christ ascended into heaven; let our hearts ascend with him. Listen to the words of the Apostle: ‘If then you were raised with Christ, seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Think of what is above, not of what is in earth.’ For just as he remained with us even after his ascension, so too we are already in heaven with him, even though what is promised us had not yet been fulfilled in our bodies.
Christ is now exalted above the heavens, but he still suffers on earth all the pain that we, the members of his body, have to bear. He showed this when he cried out from above, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’ and when he said: ‘I was hungry and you gave me food.’

Why do we here on earth not strive to find rest with him in heaven even now, by way of faith, hope, and love that unites us to him? While in heaven he is also with us; and we, though on earth, are with him. He is here with us by his divinity, his power, and his love. We cannot be in heaven, as he is on earth, by divinity, but in him, we can be there by love.” [Sermon for Ascension Day, quoted in Days of the Lord, vol. 3, p. 223-4]

So, we are already one with the Lord, joined by love, and now we are to go out to be his witnesses. We begin close to home and then move out more and more. Our outreach here at First Church needs a bit of work. We’re doing ok with the “uttermost parts of the earth,” but it’s the close to home we have to work on. Let’s be honest – when is the last time you spoke favorably about your church to a friend, co-worker or neighbor? When is the last time you invited someone to attend a worship service here with you? Study after study clearly shows that it is you (and I normally don’t like to do that) the folks in the pews, who are the most effective in getting people to come to church. Eighty-five percent plus of folks who are involved in a church are because a friend or neighbor invited them to come. That’s the point of being the Lord’s witness.

Witness isn’t just by words, but by deeds. How we live our lives makes a huge statement about who we are and Whose we are. Even how we leave this building, leave the parking lot makes a difference. I like what one of our neighboring churches has as you leave the parking lot – now you are entering the mission field. That’s the point of OUT – we are to take the message of love, hope, peace and community we have received and share it.

I like what my old New Testament professor from Saint Meinrad Seminary, Bernard Brandon Scott, says about the angels’ question there in Acts. “The angels are asking ‘Why are you hanging around here? Get on with it.’ Just as Jesus offered no hint as to when Israel would be redeemed, so the angels offer no hint as to when Jesus will return. Our goal is to be witnesses, not to speculate about the signs of the future.” [New Proclamation Commentary Year B – Easter through Pentecost, p. 63] I don’t know if I can make it any plainer than that. Our faith tells us that God is looking for us and for relationship with us. Perhaps we should just “get on with it” and then witness to it?

As we have opened the Word, soon we will share the bread and the cup. The goal of both is to give us food for the journey out. Our mission is to go out from here and make a difference in the lives of people, in the life of this world in which we live. Jesus goes up, sends us the Spirit and sends us out. Our task is to go in peace and be his witnesses. I pray that we get it, realize that the kingdom is in us, and go live like it – out beyond these walls, as we used to say, “in front of God and everybody.” It’s our mission as Christ-followers: UP and OUT.

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Mar 09 2008
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Sermons, The Third Way

God Makes Dead Bones Dance

Date: March 9, 2008
Text: Ezekiel 37:1-10; John 11:1-6; 17-45
Title: God Makes Dead Bones Dance (audio)

Lent is a great time to talk about death. We’re walking week-by-week closer to the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Many of us have been struggling throughout lent to give something up, which is a small kind of death, a death to self. It’s good that lent only comes once a year because it’s hard to talk about death. It is also good that lent comes each year whether we like it or not, because death is something we need to talk about.

We live in a culture that minimizes death and idolizes youth. Death to self? We’d much rather talk about self-esteem, self-awareness, and self-actualization than self-denial. We distract ourselves from the world’s suffering with fancy toys. We distract ourselves from our own brokenness with frenetic activity. We need to stop at least once a year and try to see things as they really are.

We have a church without martyrs, a world without justice, and wars without end. These are easy to get excited about, obvious. Preachers stand up and say, “It’s a sin and a shame. We sit here in luxury while others starve.” And everyone nods their heads and agrees that it’s a horrible shame and a tragedy and we should all feel rotten for enjoying the privilege of being born American.

That’s the goal right? To make people feel ashamed? If everyone feels guilty, they’ll want to be forgiven, they’ll seek out a priest. This is the trap we call religion. Religions set themselves up as mediators between God and humanity. They claim a monopoly on forgiveness. So, it’s in their best interest to make you feel guilty. That’s what keeps you coming back.

You feel good while you’re here and then you walk out the door and it’s not five minutes but you’ve done something wrong again. And the wrongs just keep piling up until you can get back to church again on Sunday and get forgiven.

That’s the easy way. You just make people feel vaguely guilty and you offer them vague forgiveness, and send them on their way. Or you could go with the even easier way. You make people feel really guilty once and then promise them forgiveness forever.

Just pray the prayer written on the back of this tract and you’ll go to heaven. If you’ve ever committed the tiniest of sins, ever stretched the truth, ever had a sexual thought about someone who is not currently your spouse, ever failed to do something good when it was in your power to do it, then you’re a sinner worthy of the flames of hell. Better pray that prayer quick because you might die at any moment. You might die while you’re sitting right there in that pew, and if you haven’t prayed the prayer then you’re going to experience eternal conscious torment. All you have to do is pray the prayer.

See how easy that is? But there’s still a catch. What if you didn’t pray well enough? What if you prayed, but then you forgot? What it you prayed it and you meant it, but then you changed your mind. Do you have to pray again? Once you claim your get out of hell free card, is it possible to lose it? Uh oh. I’d better go to church. It’s the religion trap all over again, only I don’t have to make you feel guilty every week; you feel guilty constantly all by yourself!

I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I’m not here to offer forgiveness. Forgiveness is already offered, without limit, without price tag. I’m in no position to barter between you and God. God has come to earth and eliminated the middle man. I’m here to say that this is the place where it’s ok to tell the truth… about what’s going on in the world, about what’s going on in our lives.

So let’s tell the truth for a minute. Half the world really does live on two dollars a day or less. But asking God’s forgiveness for children starving in Africa is like political campaigners spouting vague platitudes. “I’m a candidate for change. I want children to get a good education.” Wow. What a revelation. Just once I’d like to see a campaign ad that said, “Reading. Who needs it?” “A vote for me is a vote for stupidity.”

I hope we all agree that’s just a little bit ludicrous. So just for a few moments, lets stop beating ourselves up over the fact that we happened to be born American and some other folks weren’t. If we’re going to look for problems to solve, then lets look closer to home.

What’s the most common problem in our church? People are too busy. I didn’t say it’s our worst problem. We’ve got our share of baggage, just like everyone else. But our most common, most visible problem is we are horribly overbooked. We are running ourselves ragged. We feel disconnected from our friends and families, especially our families.

Can I bring you a message from your kids? If you gave them a choice between increasing your net worth by ten thousand dollars and having you home more, they would pick you. Unless you’re a jerk of course, then they’d take the money.

Too many of us are disconnected, stretched thin, dried out, scattered around like a bunch of dry bones. We’ve all got places in our lives that feel dead. And sooner or later, we’re all going to be dead.

But we don’t talk about it. Wouldn’t be polite. We just pretend everything is ok. Which is why so many of our young people cut themselves. They know the world is messed up, they know that they are at least in some way complicit, and they know they’re not supposed to talk about it. Especially if that brokenness extends into their own home. They’re job is to smile and get good grades so they can get a good job and afford the kind of life they’ve become accustomed to. So they take all those negative feelings and they stuff them until they go numb, until pain feels better than feeling nothing at all.

Death is the inescapable truth of the world we know, the world we live in every day. But our readings claim that death is no longer the supreme constant. It has been overthrown. Ezekiel and John both watch, jaws agape, as God reverses the flow of human events, repeals the second law of thermodynamics, and returns life to that which had lapsed into nothingness.

That’s the Bible in a nutshell: God created the world, but it became broken and began to fade, and now God is restoring it. God is pulling the scattered bones together, building connections, adding muscle, uniting us into a body. God breathes new life into us. At least that’s the plan. We still have a choice. We can collaborate in this work, or we can fight it.

Jesus stands at the tomb of Lazarus, orders them to roll the stone away, and calls out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!” Then silence as everyone holds their breath, wanting to believe, hoping it could be true. The silence stretches on for what seems like an eternity. And so Jesus calls again, “Lazarus, come forth!” Again silence. And a tiny voice calls out, “No thank you. Nobody here but us dead people. Nothing to see here. Move along. Don’t forget to roll the stone back on the way out.”

The church is not a building. The church is not an institution. The church is you and me being transformed into light and life and love. It’s not enough that we come together. It’s not enough that we move with purpose. God breathes the Spirit into us. And if we will only allow it, that Spirit will transform our lives from the inside out.

If we can accept that we are already forgiven, already loved, already alive, then we can stop hiding in tombs and join the celebration. We can watch as God changes our lives and our priorities. Perhaps we can learn to slow down, enjoy our lives, enjoy the young people. Perhaps we will see less war and less poverty. But changes like that only begin here, between hearts brave enough to be honest, and humble enough to be healed. May God make it so in us today.

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Jan 19 2008
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Reviews and Recommendations

If God loves me always, why did Jesus have to die?

“God does not need the cross to forgive us or love us. Jesus forgave and loved people before the cross. But some of us needed the cross to be able to really accept that forgiveness. God does not need the cross to love us: God has always loved us. But many of us needed the cross to really grasp that. God does not need the cross to be reconciled to us. But many of us needed the cross to be reconciled to Life, to break the cycle of rivalry and to heal our estranged authority image. The cross speaks to us at the point of our need. And while these are not God’s problems, but our alienation, still for us that alienation is very real. So to the one wracked with guilt God says through the cross, “I take the blame. I pay the price.” To the one who is locked in self-hate God says through the cross “I love you so much I would give my life defending you.” To the one in rebellion to life God says through the cross, “See me here. I am not a threat; I am love.”

-Derek Flood of sharktacos.com (full essay here)

If you’ve got the time, give it a read. It’s great stuff.

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