Sermon preached October 24, 2010
Texts: Proverbs 1:1-6, 20-23; Psalm 131; Luke 18:1-8
What do you think of when you think of prayer? Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. If I should live another day, I pray the Lord to guide my way. I hope I haven’t given anyone any ideas. If your neighbor looks a little drowsy, please nudge them gently.
By the way, how many of you learned that prayer as a child. Honestly, it is a rather frightening prayer – praying every night about death! Or maybe when you think about prayer you think about the Lord’s Prayer, a prayer many of us also grew up with. Or when you think about praying, perhaps you think about who is sick and what to ask for – prayer as asking, petition, supplication.
This past summer I attended a continuing education event called The School of Congregational Development. It is a significant denominational continuing education endeavor and has been held for ten years in various parts of the country. This summer it was in Nashville. One evening, the conference helped sponsor an event with the United Methodist Committee on Relief that was to be a fund-raiser for Haiti and for Nashville – Haiti recovering from the earthquake and Nashville recovering from Spring flooding. The featured speaker for the evening was Tony Campolo. That night Tony talked about a lot of things, prayer among them. He talked about his own developing understandings and practices of prayer. For a long time he understood the primary mode of prayer to be asking, but he contended that there were limits to that understanding. That hit him one night as his son was going to bed, announcing that fact. “I’m going to bed now. I’m going to pray. Anybody want anything?”
My guess is that this is sort of our default mode for understanding and practicing prayer. What do we want? What does someone else need? How much trouble are we really in, as in “O.K. God I know it has been a long time since we last spoke but I did not have time to study for this test so could you help me out?”
The parable Jesus tells in Luke 18 seems to reinforce this understanding of prayer as asking. “Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.” He goes on to tell a story about a judge who is not a particularly likeable character. He keeps getting petitioned for justice from a widow, a persistent widow, who nearly wears him out. It is because of this that he grants her justice. Are we to pray like the persistent widow? Is God really like an uncaring judge who only responds because he gets tired of the constant petitions? What if Jesus is using some humor here, offering a riddle? There seems to be other possibilities in this story. God isn’t really like the judge. Jesus says that God quickly grants justice. God is always listening and responding. In a surprising way God is more like the widow than the judge – God is persistent in pursuit of justice and relationship. God wants to be connected with us!
“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. At the busiest corner she cries out; at the entrance to the gate she speaks.” Wisdom is an essential characteristic of God, and in these words from Proverbs, where wisdom is a woman, wisdom is the one crying out – crying out for you and for me to pay attention, to listen to hear. Maybe the best response is something more than chattering back to wisdom and God with all our requests. Anybody want anything?
I am not dismissing prayer as asking. I pray those kinds of prayers all the time. When I am at a hospital bedside, something more than silent prayer seems required. So, too, in the face of grief, sadness, difficulty – though there are moments when some of life’s hardships also require silence. I am not dismissing prayer as asking but inviting us to other dimensions – dimensions of discernment and contemplation, two practices that Diana Butler Bass identifies as an important part of Christianity for the rest of us. I am inviting us to think about, experience, and practice prayer as listening with our hearts and with our souls – prayer as silence.
Christians believe that human beings have the capacity to hear, see, touch, and feel God – a genuine sensing of truth and beauty through which we know God and know God’s will. Christians call this discernment. (Christianity For the Rest of Us, 91) Diana Butler Bass goes on to talk about discernment as “a practice that can be developed through participation in reflection, questions, prayer, and community.” It is a practice “that involves self-criticism, questions and risk” (95). The central questions are “God-questions” (94), that is, questions about where God’s Spirit may be moving in the midst of one’s life and in the midst of a Christian community. One of the places where we continue to need the practice of discernment in our life together as First United Methodist Church is around the question, “what is the good we can do?” Phrased differently, “what is the good God might be calling us to do?” We know there is more good that needs doing in the world than we can do as this church, though we keep our hands in a lot of things. But we cannot do it all. Given who we are, where we are in our life, who we are in this community, what is the good we can do? We need practices of reflection, prayer and questions to help us continue to discern this. Some pieces of the puzzle are in place – mentoring, Ruby’s Pantry, Christian care giving within, welcoming all - and the list goes on – but what else might we need to do. Who else should we be reaching? What other hurts in the world calls to us most strongly?
And if we engage in the practices of discernment, if we ask questions about our life together, we need to leave space for answers. The same is true for our individual lives. If we ask questions of ourselves and of God, we need to leave space for answers. Some of that space should be quiet space. Bernard of Clairvaux (117): Continual silence, and removal from the noise of things of this world and forgetfulness of them, lifts the heart and asks us to think of the things of heaven and sets our heart upon them. I find that amusing when I remember that Bernard lived in the twelfth century. How noisy could it have been? Meister Eckhart (1260-1327): “Nothing in creation is so like God as silence.”
Tony Campolo shared that his understanding and experience of prayer has moved in the direction of more silence. Sometimes he simply prays, “Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me” and then is quiet.
I know for some of you the very idea of that kind of contemplation, that kind of silent prayer sends shivers. I genuinely believe we have different spiritual styles and differing levels of need for silence. But even with that, I believe we all need a little silence sometimes.
I encourage you to take some time for silence, for paying attention to what’s going on inside, and to where God might be moving in your life. Start small – two minutes even. Go from there. Perhaps begin with words from Psalm 131. “I have calmed and quieted my soul.” See if you don’t hear God a little bit more in doing this. See if you don’t hear something deep within a bit more clearly.
In Advent, the four Sundays before Christmas, I am going to invite any who wish to come early to pray. We will gather at 8:45 and have five minutes of silence as a part of that prayer time. I know it is early. I know many don’t come until 10 a.m., but if you don’t want to physically be here, I am going to invite you to take some time at home before coming for silent prayer. If it seems worthwhile, we may try it again during Lent. Maybe we will all hear something of the voice of God’s wisdom for our life together.
In her chapter on contemplation, Diana Butler Bass quotes teacher and theologian Richard Rohr. “When the church is no longer teaching the people how to pray, we could almost say it will have lost its reason for existence” (118). There is a lot of good to be done in the world, and we need to be doing some of it. While we cannot do it all, as a church part of the good we must do is help people connect more deeply with God through prayer and discernment. It is part of the very definition of being church.
As a final lesson in prayer, I offer this Mary Oliver poem – “Praying.”
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Hail
Sermon preached October 17, 2010
Texts: Jeremiah 31:27-34; Mark 5:1-20
This is the second is a series of sermons, and you may think that the theme is meteorological. A few weeks ago I preached a sermon entitled, “Let It Rain” and today the sermon is “hail.” You already know that I am not going to talk about little ice balls. But this is the second sermon in a series of sermons using as their base the book Christianity For the Rest of Us. Part I of the book provides an overall vision and the context, personal and historical, for Diana Butler Bass’ work of checking on mainline Protestant churches that were doing well, bucking the trend among many such congregations. Chapter two might be an especially hard slog for some as the author gets into history and is sometimes a little polemic. Don’t let that chapter get in the way of your moving forward.
The heart of the book is Part II wherein Butler Bass identifies some Christian practices that characterize churches that are finding new life, not as mega-churches, but new life nonetheless. In the next five weeks I am going to preach about those practices, signposts along the Christian way. From the earliest days of the Christian faith, Jesus’ followers, known as people of the Way, were recognized by what they did…. If you act like a Christian by joining its practices, by following its tracings, you may well become one. Being a Christian is not a one-moment miracle of salvation. It takes practice. It is a process of faith and a continuing conversion…. Practices invite weary nomads to join the journey, to find home, to create a different kind of village, to enter the memory of Jesus (74-75)
Today, we are going to discuss the Christian practices of healing and hospitality. But what do they have in common? They both begin with the letter “H.” I also think they have something in common with another “h” word – “hail.” Hail, when not referring to icy precipitation falling during a severe thunderstorm is a form of greeting – “Hail.” It is a greeting, a welcome. It is also a word that at its root refers to being whole, being well, and is linked to the more theological word “salvation.” Healing, hospitality, hail.
Let’s look at the story from Mark for a few moments. Sometimes this is called the story of the Gerasene demoniac. It is fascinating in its strangeness. What do we know about this man? He is hurting. He is filled with an unclean spirit named legion – his problems are many. He howls – communication issues. Some of his wounds are self-inflicted. Because of all this he lives in isolation, among the tombs. When Jesus shows up, he heals the man by striking an unusual bargain with the unclean spirits. Notice what happens to the man who is healed. People come to see him clothed and in his right mind. He will no longer be at home in the tombs, but among them. In fact, Jesus sends the man home to tell his story. He will become a part of the community again, and his presence as one who has been healed with help others. Part of the healing process is restoration in the community - - - healing and hospitality.
We may be uncomfortable with the language of healing in mainline Protestant churches. The word “faith-healer” probably does not conjure up positive images. Yet the idea of healing is central to Christian faith and practice. I concur with Diana Butler Bass. Healing has become a metaphor for salvation. For mainline pilgrims, salvation entails several levels of healing: emotions and psyche, physical wellness, human reconciliation, and cosmic restoration…. Longing for healing is not flaky, idiosyncratic, or New Age – it is an inchoate human desire to experience shalom, God’s dream of created wholeness. (108, 111)
Maybe as difficult as getting over our negative stereotypes of the word healing in relation to faith is the difficulty of admitting our need for healing, admitting our woundedness, admitting that we inflict wounds on our own lives, admitting that the vision of a new heart we read in Jeremiah has relevance of us – that we need a new heart. But I think of the words of psychologist Michael Eigen – “there is no trauma-free world, no trauma-free space in real life” (Conversations, 116). I think of the words of psychologist D. W. Winnicott: ‘Life is difficult, inherently difficult for every human being, for everyone from the beginning” (in Winnicott, Adam Phillips, 51). We get hurt, and maybe we respond by building up layers of defense so we won’t get hurt again, choking off something essential about our lives, and the defenses become legion. Maybe we strike out of our hurt, wounding others, and the wounds we leave are legion. Maybe we beat others to the punch, wounding ourselves – denying our giftedness or lacking the ability to forgive ourselves. Legion are the ways we damage our own lives.
But the church has often been the last place for honestly admitting our need for healing, admitting our capacity to wound others or ourselves. We bandage ourselves up in our Sunday best, hiding the wounded souls in need of forgiveness, in need of healing, in need of community. Growing up I remember hearing someone say that she did not appreciate preachers talking about sin to their congregations – after all, they were the ones in church. We need the language of sin and salvation, of hurt, pain and healing. If we cannot use the word “sin” because it has been so abused, we cannot lose the idea that we are sometimes less than our best, that we miss the mark, and that we are sometimes people who wound others. The church is not just a place for those who have it all together. It is a place for those of us trying to get it together, even when our problems are legion.
In a book that shares some of the same themes and emphases as Christianity For the Rest of Us, Anthony Robinson writes: In the civic-faith era, church was a place where we went to give and where we were expected to give to others. Less often were we taught to receive, to see our own needs, which may not be material but are every bit as real. Not only can a one-sided emphasis on giving and behaving as giver be a power trip, but it can blind us to our own needs – for grace, for healing, for conversion, for God. (Transforming Congregational Culture, 66) Robinson believes we need to learn to be receivers who give.
Community often plays a role in healing. The welcoming word is often a healing word. So many of our wounds are wounds of exclusion. We have all been painfully reminded recently of the effects of teenage and youth bullying, as schools see children, youth and young adults take their lives rather than live them confined to the tombs of loneliness and ostracism. Hospitality – welcoming, and healing are deeply interconnected.
In a time of hate-filled extremism, some Christians still long for a word of nonviolent love, or reconciling peace. Of human wholeness, of true brother and sisterhood, in God’s compassion. For them hospitality opens the way to practicing peace, doing a tangible thing that can change the world. (86)
Over the past many years, I begin confirmation with a session on community-building. We do some fun things to get to know one another, but I emphasize that this is not just to have fun or get to know each other. The purpose runs deeper, and I share these words: Christian community practices hospitality, creating a safe space where different people can feel welcomed, affirmed, visible and valuable (Thomas Hawkins).
Hospitality that provides healing. Healing that leads to reincorporation into community. Hail – a welcoming word, a word of healing and well-being.
I am a Christian because I know my wounds and feel them deeply and I find healing in Jesus. I am a Christian because I know my own ability to would, even wound myself and I find forgiveness and new beginnings in Jesus and in Christian community. I am a Christian because I need a home along the way and I find a word of “hail” in Jesus and among Jesus’ people – a word of welcome and well-being. I am a Christian because sometimes my problems or wounds are legion and life feels as if it is being lived wandering among the tombs and I need someone who will help me find my right mind – and Jesus does that. I am a Christian who believes maybe others hurt, feel wounded, need forgiveness, long for hospitality and home, and maybe Jesus can help them too. Maybe Jesus wants to help them through us. Maybe Jesus wants this to be one hail of a church. Amen.
Texts: Jeremiah 31:27-34; Mark 5:1-20
This is the second is a series of sermons, and you may think that the theme is meteorological. A few weeks ago I preached a sermon entitled, “Let It Rain” and today the sermon is “hail.” You already know that I am not going to talk about little ice balls. But this is the second sermon in a series of sermons using as their base the book Christianity For the Rest of Us. Part I of the book provides an overall vision and the context, personal and historical, for Diana Butler Bass’ work of checking on mainline Protestant churches that were doing well, bucking the trend among many such congregations. Chapter two might be an especially hard slog for some as the author gets into history and is sometimes a little polemic. Don’t let that chapter get in the way of your moving forward.
The heart of the book is Part II wherein Butler Bass identifies some Christian practices that characterize churches that are finding new life, not as mega-churches, but new life nonetheless. In the next five weeks I am going to preach about those practices, signposts along the Christian way. From the earliest days of the Christian faith, Jesus’ followers, known as people of the Way, were recognized by what they did…. If you act like a Christian by joining its practices, by following its tracings, you may well become one. Being a Christian is not a one-moment miracle of salvation. It takes practice. It is a process of faith and a continuing conversion…. Practices invite weary nomads to join the journey, to find home, to create a different kind of village, to enter the memory of Jesus (74-75)
Today, we are going to discuss the Christian practices of healing and hospitality. But what do they have in common? They both begin with the letter “H.” I also think they have something in common with another “h” word – “hail.” Hail, when not referring to icy precipitation falling during a severe thunderstorm is a form of greeting – “Hail.” It is a greeting, a welcome. It is also a word that at its root refers to being whole, being well, and is linked to the more theological word “salvation.” Healing, hospitality, hail.
Let’s look at the story from Mark for a few moments. Sometimes this is called the story of the Gerasene demoniac. It is fascinating in its strangeness. What do we know about this man? He is hurting. He is filled with an unclean spirit named legion – his problems are many. He howls – communication issues. Some of his wounds are self-inflicted. Because of all this he lives in isolation, among the tombs. When Jesus shows up, he heals the man by striking an unusual bargain with the unclean spirits. Notice what happens to the man who is healed. People come to see him clothed and in his right mind. He will no longer be at home in the tombs, but among them. In fact, Jesus sends the man home to tell his story. He will become a part of the community again, and his presence as one who has been healed with help others. Part of the healing process is restoration in the community - - - healing and hospitality.
We may be uncomfortable with the language of healing in mainline Protestant churches. The word “faith-healer” probably does not conjure up positive images. Yet the idea of healing is central to Christian faith and practice. I concur with Diana Butler Bass. Healing has become a metaphor for salvation. For mainline pilgrims, salvation entails several levels of healing: emotions and psyche, physical wellness, human reconciliation, and cosmic restoration…. Longing for healing is not flaky, idiosyncratic, or New Age – it is an inchoate human desire to experience shalom, God’s dream of created wholeness. (108, 111)
Maybe as difficult as getting over our negative stereotypes of the word healing in relation to faith is the difficulty of admitting our need for healing, admitting our woundedness, admitting that we inflict wounds on our own lives, admitting that the vision of a new heart we read in Jeremiah has relevance of us – that we need a new heart. But I think of the words of psychologist Michael Eigen – “there is no trauma-free world, no trauma-free space in real life” (Conversations, 116). I think of the words of psychologist D. W. Winnicott: ‘Life is difficult, inherently difficult for every human being, for everyone from the beginning” (in Winnicott, Adam Phillips, 51). We get hurt, and maybe we respond by building up layers of defense so we won’t get hurt again, choking off something essential about our lives, and the defenses become legion. Maybe we strike out of our hurt, wounding others, and the wounds we leave are legion. Maybe we beat others to the punch, wounding ourselves – denying our giftedness or lacking the ability to forgive ourselves. Legion are the ways we damage our own lives.
But the church has often been the last place for honestly admitting our need for healing, admitting our capacity to wound others or ourselves. We bandage ourselves up in our Sunday best, hiding the wounded souls in need of forgiveness, in need of healing, in need of community. Growing up I remember hearing someone say that she did not appreciate preachers talking about sin to their congregations – after all, they were the ones in church. We need the language of sin and salvation, of hurt, pain and healing. If we cannot use the word “sin” because it has been so abused, we cannot lose the idea that we are sometimes less than our best, that we miss the mark, and that we are sometimes people who wound others. The church is not just a place for those who have it all together. It is a place for those of us trying to get it together, even when our problems are legion.
In a book that shares some of the same themes and emphases as Christianity For the Rest of Us, Anthony Robinson writes: In the civic-faith era, church was a place where we went to give and where we were expected to give to others. Less often were we taught to receive, to see our own needs, which may not be material but are every bit as real. Not only can a one-sided emphasis on giving and behaving as giver be a power trip, but it can blind us to our own needs – for grace, for healing, for conversion, for God. (Transforming Congregational Culture, 66) Robinson believes we need to learn to be receivers who give.
Community often plays a role in healing. The welcoming word is often a healing word. So many of our wounds are wounds of exclusion. We have all been painfully reminded recently of the effects of teenage and youth bullying, as schools see children, youth and young adults take their lives rather than live them confined to the tombs of loneliness and ostracism. Hospitality – welcoming, and healing are deeply interconnected.
In a time of hate-filled extremism, some Christians still long for a word of nonviolent love, or reconciling peace. Of human wholeness, of true brother and sisterhood, in God’s compassion. For them hospitality opens the way to practicing peace, doing a tangible thing that can change the world. (86)
Over the past many years, I begin confirmation with a session on community-building. We do some fun things to get to know one another, but I emphasize that this is not just to have fun or get to know each other. The purpose runs deeper, and I share these words: Christian community practices hospitality, creating a safe space where different people can feel welcomed, affirmed, visible and valuable (Thomas Hawkins).
Hospitality that provides healing. Healing that leads to reincorporation into community. Hail – a welcoming word, a word of healing and well-being.
I am a Christian because I know my wounds and feel them deeply and I find healing in Jesus. I am a Christian because I know my own ability to would, even wound myself and I find forgiveness and new beginnings in Jesus and in Christian community. I am a Christian because I need a home along the way and I find a word of “hail” in Jesus and among Jesus’ people – a word of welcome and well-being. I am a Christian because sometimes my problems or wounds are legion and life feels as if it is being lived wandering among the tombs and I need someone who will help me find my right mind – and Jesus does that. I am a Christian who believes maybe others hurt, feel wounded, need forgiveness, long for hospitality and home, and maybe Jesus can help them too. Maybe Jesus wants to help them through us. Maybe Jesus wants this to be one hail of a church. Amen.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Christianity For the Rest of Us
Christianity For the Rest of Us
Sermon preached October 3, 2010
Texts: Lamentations 1:1-6; Luke 17:5-10
As mentioned in the Children’s time, today is World Communion Sunday, and I think that makes it a good day to speak about the state of Christianity in the world. Now that is about the least exciting beginning to a sermon I can imagine, but I hope you hang in there with me because I am going to bring it all back, close to home.
So what is happening with Christianity in the world? In 1910 there were over 600 million Christians in the world, about 34.8% of the population. It was the world’s largest religion by percent. In 2010, Christianity still claims more adherents than any other religion, now with 2.2 billion persons calling themselves Christian. However, the percent of the world’s population that is Christian has declined ever so slightly, 33.2%. And in these past 100 years which religion has grown most dramatically? Islam – 12.6% in 1910 to 22.4% in 2010. While the percentage of the world’s population that considers itself Christian has remained about the same, the geographic center of Christianity is shifting. Christianity is declining in the modern, industrial and post-industrial West and increasing elsewhere, especially in Africa.
Closer to home, we know that the situation for mainline Protestant Churches in the United States has changed and continues to change. The place of the church in the culture has shifted. Here are some words offered by the authors of the book we are using in the 9 a.m. Bible study on Acts: No longer are stores closed on Sunday in tacit support of the church and Christianity. No longer do public schools give privileged status to Christianity and its leaders. No longer does the church benefit from a pervasive expectation that part of being a good American is being a participant and member of a church or synagogue. (Called To Be Church, 9). Our own church statistics for worship attendance and membership are an indication of such changes. In 1984 First UMC had 1023 members and averaged 352 in worship on a Sunday morning. In 2009, our membership was 592 and our average worship attendance 194. Interestingly, I recently came across some information that indicates that while church membership fell some after the 1950s in the US, “participation in churches has remained proportionately higher compared to previous eras” (Christian Century, August 10, 2010, 9) Another change for us is that there is not only greater “competition” for our time from outside activities, there is also more “competition” from new churches. A couple of weeks ago I was at a church fair at St. Scholastica – an opportunity for local congregations to promote themselves to college students. One of the amazing things I noticed was the number of newer ministries present – Community Churches – Rock Hill, Eastridge; the Vineyard Church; funky sounding ministries like The Fringe.
To all of this we could offer a lamentation. How lonely sits the church that once was full of people. How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the community…. She weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks; among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her. There is biblical precedent for such lamentation.
But if we offer lamentation, it should not be our signature note. Yes, our situation is different from the situation in which this church was founded in 1869 and when we built here in 1966. The world is not the same. Yet God still calls to us. Jesus is not yet done with us. If we want to lament for awhile, fine, but let us also seek refreshment, renewal, rekindling the fire.
What might that look like? There are some models of Christian faith out there that are not necessarily fitting for us, that are not the way for our renewal. The First and Ten men’s group is reading a book called When Christians Get it Wrong, written by Adam Hamilton, United Methodist pastor of one of the largest mainline churches in the country with 17,000 members. Christians can get it wrong; even some successful Christian churches get it wrong. Hamilton’s book discusses how Christians get it wrong sometimes in our temperament, in our thinking about science and politics, when speaking of other religions, when bad things happen, in dealing with homosexuality. Evidence of getting it wrong abounds. Our newspaper has carried letters written by local Christian clergy in which Islam is called evil and Allah a demon and foreign god. I received a fax this week from an organization called “The Pray in Jesus Name Project.” It was a voter’s guide and I was encouraged to reproduce it and distribute it. The guide ranked our Minnesota congressional delegation on “faith-friendly” issues. And how were these defined? Abortion and homosexuality. The statement of faith of one of the growing churches in our area proclaims “the eternal conscious punishment of the wicked” (Vineyard Statement of Faith), but it is not clear who that includes – anyone who is not a Christian?
So if there are forms of Christian faith that seem to us to get it wrong, versions of Christian faith that don’t seem fitting as our road to renewal, and yet we know we cannot simply turn back the clock to a time when church was the only thing going on Sundays and the culture strongly encouraged that you go, what are we left with? Christianity for the rest of us!
Two weeks ago I invited you to pray with me that God would let God’s Spirit rain upon us generously. Today I invite you to join others in thinking about what it means to be a Christian and a part of a Christian community in our day and time, beginning with reading Christianity For the Rest of Us. The author of that book shares stories about churches like ours that are discovering new life, often by reclaiming faith practices from our Christian tradition, but making them new. From now until Thanksgiving, I am going to be preaching on some of the themes of the book. People are going to be reading the book and discussing it in groups. It is not a magic wand, but it is a step.
In light of the declining position of mainline churches and of our church, we might want to lament. We also might pray, “Increase our faith.” Jesus response to the disciples request for an increase in faith was to tell them, in a cryptic way, “Use what you’ve got!”
I believe the seeds for the renewal of our church are here. They are here in our thoughtful minds. They are here in our compassionate hearts. They are here in our shared life with its inclusive table fellowship. We may not soon have 1,000 members, but as we seek renewal of our faith and life, as we seek to live out a Christianity for the rest of us, others will find that attractive and join us on the journey. What we want here is faith in Jesus that is thoughtful, compassionate, and passionate – one that is open and generous, intellectual and emotive, beautiful and just. We want a Christianity for the rest of us, a Christian faith that gets it right often.
I began with statistics, let me end with a story. You may have heard about the Superior Spartan High School Football team. Last week in a game against Menomonie, losing significantly, the Superior team, late in the game, allowed a Menomonie player to catch a pass and score a touchdown. The player was a senior with developmental disabilities. The first time I heard the story was in an e-mail from Julie that was circulating in the Superior school district. A man had sent a copy of a letter he was writing the Superior Telegram to the district, and it was being circulated. In the letter the man wrote about “the larger than life gift given by these Superior HS men…. That Friday night the Superior HS varsity football team and its coaching staff exhibited, without apology, a willingness to honor the ‘least of these.’”
You know where that phrase comes from – the Bible. Our world yearns for Christians to live this way. It yearns for followers of Jesus who live a faith in Jesus that is thoughtful, compassionate, and passionate – one that is open and generous, intellectual and emotive, beautiful and just. That is our path to renewal, and the seeds of it are already planted in our hearts, our minds, our souls. May the rain of God’s Spirit water them generously. Amen.
Sermon preached October 3, 2010
Texts: Lamentations 1:1-6; Luke 17:5-10
As mentioned in the Children’s time, today is World Communion Sunday, and I think that makes it a good day to speak about the state of Christianity in the world. Now that is about the least exciting beginning to a sermon I can imagine, but I hope you hang in there with me because I am going to bring it all back, close to home.
So what is happening with Christianity in the world? In 1910 there were over 600 million Christians in the world, about 34.8% of the population. It was the world’s largest religion by percent. In 2010, Christianity still claims more adherents than any other religion, now with 2.2 billion persons calling themselves Christian. However, the percent of the world’s population that is Christian has declined ever so slightly, 33.2%. And in these past 100 years which religion has grown most dramatically? Islam – 12.6% in 1910 to 22.4% in 2010. While the percentage of the world’s population that considers itself Christian has remained about the same, the geographic center of Christianity is shifting. Christianity is declining in the modern, industrial and post-industrial West and increasing elsewhere, especially in Africa.
Closer to home, we know that the situation for mainline Protestant Churches in the United States has changed and continues to change. The place of the church in the culture has shifted. Here are some words offered by the authors of the book we are using in the 9 a.m. Bible study on Acts: No longer are stores closed on Sunday in tacit support of the church and Christianity. No longer do public schools give privileged status to Christianity and its leaders. No longer does the church benefit from a pervasive expectation that part of being a good American is being a participant and member of a church or synagogue. (Called To Be Church, 9). Our own church statistics for worship attendance and membership are an indication of such changes. In 1984 First UMC had 1023 members and averaged 352 in worship on a Sunday morning. In 2009, our membership was 592 and our average worship attendance 194. Interestingly, I recently came across some information that indicates that while church membership fell some after the 1950s in the US, “participation in churches has remained proportionately higher compared to previous eras” (Christian Century, August 10, 2010, 9) Another change for us is that there is not only greater “competition” for our time from outside activities, there is also more “competition” from new churches. A couple of weeks ago I was at a church fair at St. Scholastica – an opportunity for local congregations to promote themselves to college students. One of the amazing things I noticed was the number of newer ministries present – Community Churches – Rock Hill, Eastridge; the Vineyard Church; funky sounding ministries like The Fringe.
To all of this we could offer a lamentation. How lonely sits the church that once was full of people. How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the community…. She weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks; among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her. There is biblical precedent for such lamentation.
But if we offer lamentation, it should not be our signature note. Yes, our situation is different from the situation in which this church was founded in 1869 and when we built here in 1966. The world is not the same. Yet God still calls to us. Jesus is not yet done with us. If we want to lament for awhile, fine, but let us also seek refreshment, renewal, rekindling the fire.
What might that look like? There are some models of Christian faith out there that are not necessarily fitting for us, that are not the way for our renewal. The First and Ten men’s group is reading a book called When Christians Get it Wrong, written by Adam Hamilton, United Methodist pastor of one of the largest mainline churches in the country with 17,000 members. Christians can get it wrong; even some successful Christian churches get it wrong. Hamilton’s book discusses how Christians get it wrong sometimes in our temperament, in our thinking about science and politics, when speaking of other religions, when bad things happen, in dealing with homosexuality. Evidence of getting it wrong abounds. Our newspaper has carried letters written by local Christian clergy in which Islam is called evil and Allah a demon and foreign god. I received a fax this week from an organization called “The Pray in Jesus Name Project.” It was a voter’s guide and I was encouraged to reproduce it and distribute it. The guide ranked our Minnesota congressional delegation on “faith-friendly” issues. And how were these defined? Abortion and homosexuality. The statement of faith of one of the growing churches in our area proclaims “the eternal conscious punishment of the wicked” (Vineyard Statement of Faith), but it is not clear who that includes – anyone who is not a Christian?
So if there are forms of Christian faith that seem to us to get it wrong, versions of Christian faith that don’t seem fitting as our road to renewal, and yet we know we cannot simply turn back the clock to a time when church was the only thing going on Sundays and the culture strongly encouraged that you go, what are we left with? Christianity for the rest of us!
Two weeks ago I invited you to pray with me that God would let God’s Spirit rain upon us generously. Today I invite you to join others in thinking about what it means to be a Christian and a part of a Christian community in our day and time, beginning with reading Christianity For the Rest of Us. The author of that book shares stories about churches like ours that are discovering new life, often by reclaiming faith practices from our Christian tradition, but making them new. From now until Thanksgiving, I am going to be preaching on some of the themes of the book. People are going to be reading the book and discussing it in groups. It is not a magic wand, but it is a step.
In light of the declining position of mainline churches and of our church, we might want to lament. We also might pray, “Increase our faith.” Jesus response to the disciples request for an increase in faith was to tell them, in a cryptic way, “Use what you’ve got!”
I believe the seeds for the renewal of our church are here. They are here in our thoughtful minds. They are here in our compassionate hearts. They are here in our shared life with its inclusive table fellowship. We may not soon have 1,000 members, but as we seek renewal of our faith and life, as we seek to live out a Christianity for the rest of us, others will find that attractive and join us on the journey. What we want here is faith in Jesus that is thoughtful, compassionate, and passionate – one that is open and generous, intellectual and emotive, beautiful and just. We want a Christianity for the rest of us, a Christian faith that gets it right often.
I began with statistics, let me end with a story. You may have heard about the Superior Spartan High School Football team. Last week in a game against Menomonie, losing significantly, the Superior team, late in the game, allowed a Menomonie player to catch a pass and score a touchdown. The player was a senior with developmental disabilities. The first time I heard the story was in an e-mail from Julie that was circulating in the Superior school district. A man had sent a copy of a letter he was writing the Superior Telegram to the district, and it was being circulated. In the letter the man wrote about “the larger than life gift given by these Superior HS men…. That Friday night the Superior HS varsity football team and its coaching staff exhibited, without apology, a willingness to honor the ‘least of these.’”
You know where that phrase comes from – the Bible. Our world yearns for Christians to live this way. It yearns for followers of Jesus who live a faith in Jesus that is thoughtful, compassionate, and passionate – one that is open and generous, intellectual and emotive, beautiful and just. That is our path to renewal, and the seeds of it are already planted in our hearts, our minds, our souls. May the rain of God’s Spirit water them generously. Amen.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Scary Stories
Sermon preached September 26, 2010
First United Methodist Church, Duluth
Texts: I Timothy 6:6-10; Luke 16:19-31
Did you hear about the math teacher that was detained by airport security carrying a slide rule and calculator? They were questioning him for carrying weapons of math instruction. (Pretty Good Joke Book, 5th. 24)
Teachers. Good teachers help shape our lives by offering us tools for living and by helping us see the world differently. Do you remember some teachers who made a difference for you – school teachers, Sunday School teachers?
The gospels portray Jesus as an exceptional teacher. His words connected with those he taught and his teaching helped change lives. As he taught, he opened people to God in new ways. Those of us who call ourselves Christian still claim to learn from the teachings of Jesus. One of the remarkable things about Jesus as teacher was his use of varying methods. He used aphorisms to distill wisdom into memorable phrases. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” He told pithy stories that could startle his listeners into seeing the world differently. “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho.” Some of these stories, these parables, were funny – the woman who turns her house upside down to find a coin and then calls all the neighbors to tell them what she has done. Some of the stories were like riddles – no easy answer but they got you to think. And Jesus even used scary stories sometimes to make his point – like today.
There was a rich man. Jesus is telling a story, not relating a news item, yet the story weaves in some of the social realities of the day – purple was very expensive and reserved for the rich. Outside the rich man’s home was a poor man named Lazarus. Both men die and their fates differ significantly. The rich man is tormented while Lazarus gets to feast with Abraham. This is a story, not a metaphysical description of life after death. The point of the story is not that wealth is bad, but that how we use our wealth matters. The rich man seems to have no conscience toward Lazarus. Only when it is too late does he seem to develop a conscience. He becomes worried about his brothers. Not only had he failed to use his wealth in a way that helped others, but he had not taken time to teach his brothers about the wise use of wealth, and now he cannot. It is a scary story meant to drive home to listeners the importance of using wealth wisely, compassionately – here, now.
The text from Timothy is a nice accompaniment. The writer of Timothy was someone grappling with what it meant to live as a follower of Jesus years after Jesus had been killed. He, too, grapples with issues of money and goes even deeper than Jesus, in some ways. Use wealth wisely, but know that if you don’t it may use you. Love of money is the root of all kinds of evil…. Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. Talk about your scary story! When we don’t get our relationship with money, with wealth right, it can skew us. It can screw us up. Think Bernie Maddoff. Think Kenneth Lay and Enron. Think of people you know or even times in your own life when your relationship with money or possessions was not healthy.
How we use our wealth matters, matters deeply, matters ultimately. When we cling too tightly, when we pursue too vigorously, when we refuse to share and care, we get it wrong. When we get it wrong it can plunge people into ruin and destruction. It can mess with our own souls. The good news is the church has a solution. Give as much as you can to us and we will unburden you! Yes, that is supposed to be funny. There is truth in the giving part. A healthy relationship with money, wealth, things, knows involves giving for the good of others – giving money, giving time, giving attention. The rich man’s problem went beyond his refusal to share with Lazarus. It was his refusal to see Lazarus as a human being until it was too late.
But I will not turn these powerful teachings, couched in scary stories, into a simple sermon on giving. The teaching is deeper than that. It invites us to a profound self-examination of our values. Maybe one place to begin is at a beginning, with the words we use at baptism – and we are going to use them soon. Will you use the freedom and power God gives you? How we use our freedom and power matters. We can use it well or not. What is using these well? Resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Trust Jesus Christ and God’s grace in Jesus Christ. Build community with all kinds of people who also want to follow Jesus.
Notice what we don’t say. We don’t mention wealth at all. My hope for Keira, and for every child I baptize is that they would never know the pangs of hunger and be unsure of where their next meal is coming from. I hope none of those I baptize ever knows deep economic uncertainty and scarcity. I hope Keira and all those I baptize in the name of the church always have enough. I also hope they grow to understand “enough” so that in their lives they will pursue justice, goodness, sharing, kindness, community, love.
One scary story deserves another. In hell, people are seated at a table overflowing with delicious food. But the people all have splints on their elbows so they are unable to reach their mouths with their spoons, or forks, or even hands. They sit though eternity emaciated, hungry, in the midst of plenty. In heaven, the scene is much the same – a table overflowing with delicious food and people with splints on their elbows. But in heaven they have learned to feed each other and so enjoy the banquet together. (Naomi Rachel Remen, My Grandfather’s Blessings, 233). One test of whether or not our relationship with wealth is healthy is whether or not we can feed others, care about and care for others, bless others.
In the end these scary stories are not meant so much to scare us as to scar us, that is to mark our lives like the waters of baptism mark us with the sign of the cross. Grow gently in love of God. Use the freedom and power God gives you to pursue justice, goodness, kindness, community, peace, love. Use your wealth – your money, your time, your energy, your attention – use it well. We don’t have forever. Amen.
First United Methodist Church, Duluth
Texts: I Timothy 6:6-10; Luke 16:19-31
Did you hear about the math teacher that was detained by airport security carrying a slide rule and calculator? They were questioning him for carrying weapons of math instruction. (Pretty Good Joke Book, 5th. 24)
Teachers. Good teachers help shape our lives by offering us tools for living and by helping us see the world differently. Do you remember some teachers who made a difference for you – school teachers, Sunday School teachers?
The gospels portray Jesus as an exceptional teacher. His words connected with those he taught and his teaching helped change lives. As he taught, he opened people to God in new ways. Those of us who call ourselves Christian still claim to learn from the teachings of Jesus. One of the remarkable things about Jesus as teacher was his use of varying methods. He used aphorisms to distill wisdom into memorable phrases. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” He told pithy stories that could startle his listeners into seeing the world differently. “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho.” Some of these stories, these parables, were funny – the woman who turns her house upside down to find a coin and then calls all the neighbors to tell them what she has done. Some of the stories were like riddles – no easy answer but they got you to think. And Jesus even used scary stories sometimes to make his point – like today.
There was a rich man. Jesus is telling a story, not relating a news item, yet the story weaves in some of the social realities of the day – purple was very expensive and reserved for the rich. Outside the rich man’s home was a poor man named Lazarus. Both men die and their fates differ significantly. The rich man is tormented while Lazarus gets to feast with Abraham. This is a story, not a metaphysical description of life after death. The point of the story is not that wealth is bad, but that how we use our wealth matters. The rich man seems to have no conscience toward Lazarus. Only when it is too late does he seem to develop a conscience. He becomes worried about his brothers. Not only had he failed to use his wealth in a way that helped others, but he had not taken time to teach his brothers about the wise use of wealth, and now he cannot. It is a scary story meant to drive home to listeners the importance of using wealth wisely, compassionately – here, now.
The text from Timothy is a nice accompaniment. The writer of Timothy was someone grappling with what it meant to live as a follower of Jesus years after Jesus had been killed. He, too, grapples with issues of money and goes even deeper than Jesus, in some ways. Use wealth wisely, but know that if you don’t it may use you. Love of money is the root of all kinds of evil…. Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. Talk about your scary story! When we don’t get our relationship with money, with wealth right, it can skew us. It can screw us up. Think Bernie Maddoff. Think Kenneth Lay and Enron. Think of people you know or even times in your own life when your relationship with money or possessions was not healthy.
How we use our wealth matters, matters deeply, matters ultimately. When we cling too tightly, when we pursue too vigorously, when we refuse to share and care, we get it wrong. When we get it wrong it can plunge people into ruin and destruction. It can mess with our own souls. The good news is the church has a solution. Give as much as you can to us and we will unburden you! Yes, that is supposed to be funny. There is truth in the giving part. A healthy relationship with money, wealth, things, knows involves giving for the good of others – giving money, giving time, giving attention. The rich man’s problem went beyond his refusal to share with Lazarus. It was his refusal to see Lazarus as a human being until it was too late.
But I will not turn these powerful teachings, couched in scary stories, into a simple sermon on giving. The teaching is deeper than that. It invites us to a profound self-examination of our values. Maybe one place to begin is at a beginning, with the words we use at baptism – and we are going to use them soon. Will you use the freedom and power God gives you? How we use our freedom and power matters. We can use it well or not. What is using these well? Resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Trust Jesus Christ and God’s grace in Jesus Christ. Build community with all kinds of people who also want to follow Jesus.
Notice what we don’t say. We don’t mention wealth at all. My hope for Keira, and for every child I baptize is that they would never know the pangs of hunger and be unsure of where their next meal is coming from. I hope none of those I baptize ever knows deep economic uncertainty and scarcity. I hope Keira and all those I baptize in the name of the church always have enough. I also hope they grow to understand “enough” so that in their lives they will pursue justice, goodness, sharing, kindness, community, love.
One scary story deserves another. In hell, people are seated at a table overflowing with delicious food. But the people all have splints on their elbows so they are unable to reach their mouths with their spoons, or forks, or even hands. They sit though eternity emaciated, hungry, in the midst of plenty. In heaven, the scene is much the same – a table overflowing with delicious food and people with splints on their elbows. But in heaven they have learned to feed each other and so enjoy the banquet together. (Naomi Rachel Remen, My Grandfather’s Blessings, 233). One test of whether or not our relationship with wealth is healthy is whether or not we can feed others, care about and care for others, bless others.
In the end these scary stories are not meant so much to scare us as to scar us, that is to mark our lives like the waters of baptism mark us with the sign of the cross. Grow gently in love of God. Use the freedom and power God gives you to pursue justice, goodness, kindness, community, peace, love. Use your wealth – your money, your time, your energy, your attention – use it well. We don’t have forever. Amen.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Let It Rain
Sermon preached September 19, 2010
Text: Zechariah 9:16-10:1
Play “Name That Tune”:
Duke Ellington, Take the “A” Train
Bill Haley and the Comets, Rock Around the Clock
The Bee Gees, Night Fever
Prince, 1999
Eric Clapton, Let It Rain
Let It Rain, youTube
Familiar songs bring a measure of joy and comfort to our lives. There are days when simply hearing the first familiar notes or chords brings a smile to my face.
I think it is a good thing to have some simple pleasures like familiar songs in our lives, for the world we live in can be difficult, challenging, confusing. Bob Johansen, past president of, and now a distinguished fellow with, the Institute for the Future, in his book Leaders Make the Future, argues that we live in a VUCA world – a world of volatility, uncertainty, complexity and ambiguity. “If you are not confused by current events… you are not paying attention” (xiv). I think he is on to something.
Tuesday the winner of a primary election for governor in the state of New York said in his victory speech, “we are mad as hell” and he promised in his campaign to “take a baseball bat to Albany” (Carl Paladino, New York republican nominee for governor). Anger and fear have a place in the repertoire of human responses to the world, but I know when I react mostly out of anger and fear, my decisions are not their best. But that can be part of the VUCA world. So, too mistrust. Friday’s newspaper contained an article about a recent survey conducted of Americans (Associated Press National Constitution Center). “Glum and mistrusting, a majority of Americans today are very confident in – nobody.” When asked about their trust in people running major institutions, 43% said they are extremely or very confident in the military. That tops the list. 39% expressed confidence in small or local business leaders; the scientific community came in at 30%, and next, at 18% organized religion. Anger and mistrust are some responses to living in a VUCA world even when they are not the healthiest reponses.
So if the world is volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous, should we be counter-cultural and offer a simple faith message? Didn’t Jesus speak of becoming childlike? There are some in the Christian community who would argue for a faith that is counter-cultural in being simple. I agree, to a point. Some matters of faith can and should be simply stated. We are about loving God and loving others. We are a Christ-centered community that welcomes all people, is guided by the teachings and unconditional love of Jesus, and is inspired to live as disciples of Jesus. There is something to be said for stating who we are and what we are about simply. And we should be counter-cultural, though I would argue that the focus of our counter-cultural stance should be kindness when the world is callous, reconciling when the world is divisive, thoughtful when the world is simplistic.
There’s the rub – sometimes focusing only on the simple in one’s faith can become simplistic. It is simple to say, “love,” but what love requires in a complex world can be complex. Most would say that loving and lying don’t mix, but how about if you know the location of an abused spouse and her husband calls asking if you know where she is? We speak of the Bible as the Word of God because we trust that God’s Spirit still speaks to us through those words. But we also know something of the human authors and the human construction of the text. We know something about the nature of language - - - All human language changes in meaning and reference over time (Sandra Schneiders, IDB)
While I believe Christian faith is often counter-cultural I also believe Jesus invites us to a faith in God that incorporates complexity and understands ambiguity. One of the gifts of this church is that we seek such a thoughtful faith in God and in Jesus. We are not afraid, even in a VUCA world, of asking questions, of seeing the full complexity of issues, of grasping ambiguity. We want to nurture here a thoughtful and compassionate Christian faith.
But Christian faith in a VUCA world also needs to be authentic and passionate. There are many reasons, I am sure, why only 18% of the people surveyed by the Associate Press expressed confidence in organized religion. We have not always been good at being thoughtful, compassionate, authentic and passionate all together. People want to see in people of faith authenticity – a genuine concern for and understanding of the complexities of being human. People want to see in people of faith passion – a deep desire to see the world be a better place and a willingness to do something about it. People want to see a faith that makes a positive difference in people’s lives.
We need, in this VUCA world a faith that permeates our whole lives. We need to be people who soak up Jesus, soak up the Spirit of God like a dry sponge soaks up water.
Over the summer I thought a lot about this church this coming year. We have a lot of good things going for us. We have some understanding of the kind of faith in Jesus Christ that is going to make sense in a VUCA world. But we are not fully where I think we can be. I have felt this inarticulate yearning in my heart and soul for us to be even more of who we are. This summer, during my own formational reading of the Bible (distinct from “professional reading”), I was reading Zechariah, and I came across this phrase – “ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain.” Kind of a strange verse to preach on in September, but it gives words to my prayer for our church for this year. Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain. It is a prayer for what is needed when it is needed.
My prayer for our church, for our life together this year, is that God’s Spirit would soak us like rain, and I believe this is the time for that to happen in some deep and profound way. My prayer is “let it rain.”
My prayer is that everyone of us will risk asking those profound and uncomfortable questions that move our faith and our church forward. Let it rain.
My prayer is that everyone of us will go a little bit deeper, a little bit further in our relationship with Jesus. Let it rain.
My prayer is that everyone will develop a new energy for prayer and worship. Let it rain.
Text: Zechariah 9:16-10:1
Play “Name That Tune”:
Duke Ellington, Take the “A” Train
Bill Haley and the Comets, Rock Around the Clock
The Bee Gees, Night Fever
Prince, 1999
Eric Clapton, Let It Rain
Let It Rain, youTube
Familiar songs bring a measure of joy and comfort to our lives. There are days when simply hearing the first familiar notes or chords brings a smile to my face.
I think it is a good thing to have some simple pleasures like familiar songs in our lives, for the world we live in can be difficult, challenging, confusing. Bob Johansen, past president of, and now a distinguished fellow with, the Institute for the Future, in his book Leaders Make the Future, argues that we live in a VUCA world – a world of volatility, uncertainty, complexity and ambiguity. “If you are not confused by current events… you are not paying attention” (xiv). I think he is on to something.
Tuesday the winner of a primary election for governor in the state of New York said in his victory speech, “we are mad as hell” and he promised in his campaign to “take a baseball bat to Albany” (Carl Paladino, New York republican nominee for governor). Anger and fear have a place in the repertoire of human responses to the world, but I know when I react mostly out of anger and fear, my decisions are not their best. But that can be part of the VUCA world. So, too mistrust. Friday’s newspaper contained an article about a recent survey conducted of Americans (Associated Press National Constitution Center). “Glum and mistrusting, a majority of Americans today are very confident in – nobody.” When asked about their trust in people running major institutions, 43% said they are extremely or very confident in the military. That tops the list. 39% expressed confidence in small or local business leaders; the scientific community came in at 30%, and next, at 18% organized religion. Anger and mistrust are some responses to living in a VUCA world even when they are not the healthiest reponses.
So if the world is volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous, should we be counter-cultural and offer a simple faith message? Didn’t Jesus speak of becoming childlike? There are some in the Christian community who would argue for a faith that is counter-cultural in being simple. I agree, to a point. Some matters of faith can and should be simply stated. We are about loving God and loving others. We are a Christ-centered community that welcomes all people, is guided by the teachings and unconditional love of Jesus, and is inspired to live as disciples of Jesus. There is something to be said for stating who we are and what we are about simply. And we should be counter-cultural, though I would argue that the focus of our counter-cultural stance should be kindness when the world is callous, reconciling when the world is divisive, thoughtful when the world is simplistic.
There’s the rub – sometimes focusing only on the simple in one’s faith can become simplistic. It is simple to say, “love,” but what love requires in a complex world can be complex. Most would say that loving and lying don’t mix, but how about if you know the location of an abused spouse and her husband calls asking if you know where she is? We speak of the Bible as the Word of God because we trust that God’s Spirit still speaks to us through those words. But we also know something of the human authors and the human construction of the text. We know something about the nature of language - - - All human language changes in meaning and reference over time (Sandra Schneiders, IDB)
While I believe Christian faith is often counter-cultural I also believe Jesus invites us to a faith in God that incorporates complexity and understands ambiguity. One of the gifts of this church is that we seek such a thoughtful faith in God and in Jesus. We are not afraid, even in a VUCA world, of asking questions, of seeing the full complexity of issues, of grasping ambiguity. We want to nurture here a thoughtful and compassionate Christian faith.
But Christian faith in a VUCA world also needs to be authentic and passionate. There are many reasons, I am sure, why only 18% of the people surveyed by the Associate Press expressed confidence in organized religion. We have not always been good at being thoughtful, compassionate, authentic and passionate all together. People want to see in people of faith authenticity – a genuine concern for and understanding of the complexities of being human. People want to see in people of faith passion – a deep desire to see the world be a better place and a willingness to do something about it. People want to see a faith that makes a positive difference in people’s lives.
We need, in this VUCA world a faith that permeates our whole lives. We need to be people who soak up Jesus, soak up the Spirit of God like a dry sponge soaks up water.
Over the summer I thought a lot about this church this coming year. We have a lot of good things going for us. We have some understanding of the kind of faith in Jesus Christ that is going to make sense in a VUCA world. But we are not fully where I think we can be. I have felt this inarticulate yearning in my heart and soul for us to be even more of who we are. This summer, during my own formational reading of the Bible (distinct from “professional reading”), I was reading Zechariah, and I came across this phrase – “ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain.” Kind of a strange verse to preach on in September, but it gives words to my prayer for our church for this year. Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain. It is a prayer for what is needed when it is needed.
My prayer for our church, for our life together this year, is that God’s Spirit would soak us like rain, and I believe this is the time for that to happen in some deep and profound way. My prayer is “let it rain.”
My prayer is that everyone of us will risk asking those profound and uncomfortable questions that move our faith and our church forward. Let it rain.
My prayer is that everyone of us will go a little bit deeper, a little bit further in our relationship with Jesus. Let it rain.
My prayer is that everyone will develop a new energy for prayer and worship. Let it rain.
Friday, September 17, 2010
What's He Doing?!
Sermon preached September 12, 2010
Text: Luke 15:1-10
Note: The printed text of the sermon will always be different from the preached text. Sometimes those differences are relatively small and sometimes more significant. I did not share the final story in preaching this sermon for no other reason than concern for time.
Kathy Myers of Niles, MI, age 41, has no health insurance. She has also been suffering from an increasingly painful shoulder injury, but because she has not health insurance she is continually turned away from emergency rooms because her injury is not life-threatening. She decided to take matters into her own hand. She shot herself in the shoulder hoping that the wound would be serious enough for ER treatment. She missed major arteries and bones and was sent home again. Sad, but you do wonder, what was she doing?
August 2004, St. Louis, MO: Police were summoned to an upscale office building on a report of a man roaming the halls with a gun, and on arrival, officers found some workers hiding under desks and in closets and others having fled the building. Police concluded that two lawyers, Gary Burger and Mark Cantor, were once again playing their game in the hallways, stalking each other with BB guns and occasionally firing. Most workers did not know that the men were playing, but one did because she had been shot in the finger and shoulder after walking into a previous battle. Police said that they would file gun charges, and one officer said the men would be tried “as adults.” What were these guys doing?
Labor Day in San Francisco, a man was arrested after he had been climbing near the top of a skyscraper in downtown. The building was 58 stories high. The man wondered what all the fuss was about. “I’m just trying to raise cancer awareness. I am not a terrorist. I am not trying to commit suicide.” What was this guy doing?
First century in Roman-controlled Palestine. A wandering religious teacher is seen by the religious authorities cavorting with some strange folks – tax collectors, sinners, the impure, the suspect. They can hardly believe it. “This, this… what’s he doing?! He welcomes sinners and eats with them.
The story probably seems a little overblown to us. Why get your tunic in a bunch just because of who someone chooses to eat with. I was at the State Fair last Monday. There were people eating all over the place, and who could tell who you were eating with? But Jesus eating practices were significant in his culture. They were central to his mission. Jesus was concerned that people were fed, to be sure. Meals often celebrated healings. Meals were often occasions for teaching, as this one will turn out to be. So we have a lot of stories about Jesus eating. But beyond sustenance, and celebration and teaching, meals at that time were about social inclusion. To eat with somebody was a deeply symbolic act. (Borg, Jesus, 157ff) Some of the religious leader of Jesus time were very careful about whom they ate with, concerned for their purity before God. Jesus leaves them almost speechless by his wild disregard for their concerns. He eats with those who had not been included, with the social outcasts, with the marginalized. He not only eats with them, he does so with joy and laughter. To justify his actions he tells wonderful and humorous stories – stories about frantic searches for a lost coin, of shepherd wandering away from 99 sheep to find one. No shepherd in his right mind would really do that. And who after turning your house upside down to find something you’ve misplaced really calls all the neighbors to tell them – “you know that coin I lost, well, I found it, let’s have a party!” The frequency of such stories in the gospels should tell us that there is something vitally important here for Christian faith and life. There is. We call it hospitality.
For Christians hospitality is not an industry concerned with meals and lodging while you travel. For Christians hospitality is not simply being nice to guests. Hospitality runs deep in our tradition. Welcoming is part and parcel of who we are as followers of Jesus.
An early Christian traveler recounts an experience of monastic hospitality in Egypt. As we drew near to that place and they realized that foreign brethren were arriving, they poured out of their cells like a swarm of bees and ran to meet us with delight and alacrity, many of them carrying containers of water and of bread…. When they had welcomed us, first of all they led us with psalms into the church and washed our feet and one by one they dried them with the linen cloth they were girded with, as if to wash away the fatigue of the journey. What can I say that would do justice to their humanity, their courtesy, and their love? (Diana Butler Bass, A People’s History of Christianity, 64)
Hospitality. Welcome. These should be the hallmarks of the church, the community formed around Jesus and the stories of Jesus. That churches often fail to measure up is deeply sad. We should be places of astonishing welcome, sometimes leaving people stammering for words.
What might that mean for us? It means being intentional about being warm and welcoming to any who come our way – on Sunday, but also on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. It means saying “hello” to the person you don’t know. It means offering coffee, or directions with warmth and a smile. Such acts are actions we can never be too good at.
But Christian welcome and hospitality go beyond that. If we are deeply welcoming, we will not just welcome people into our church just as it is. We will welcome people into a full participation which welcomes their ideas, and that can mean change. True Christian hospitality is an invitation to others, to any and all others to join us on the journey of faith, a journey that involves growth and change and mutual transformation in love. Mother Teresa once said, “The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis but rather the feeling of not belonging” (in Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance, 11) People yearn to be connected and the church should be a place where people find that sense of belonging. If you are here today, whether for the first or the five hundred and first time, know that you belong. Welcome in the name of Jesus Christ. Welcome in joy.
That sense of hospitality is so pervasive in Jesus and Christian faith that it spills over into other areas of our life. It is not only about the kind of community we are, it is also about how we deal with our selves, our inner lives. To know we are loved by God and accepted by Jesus means that we can offer hospitality to ourselves. Psychologist Carl Rogers once wrote, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” (in Brach, Radical Acceptance, 24) The person I am most impatient with in my life is me. When I’ve disappointed myself I can either spiral down by beating myself up, leaving little energy for reflection and positive change, or I can say, “o.k. It’s not what you wanted. You haven’t quite finished with that issue in your life. How do we move forward.” That usually serves me better. Change begins with hospitality towards oneself.
And hospitality extends beyond the church community and the self. It is meant to extend to the world. We who name the name of Jesus should be among the best people in the world at seeing the humanity of all others, even those who are different. What I have found so deeply troubling about Pastor Terry Jones and his Dove World Outreach Center in Gainsville, Florida and their plans to burn copies of the Quran was that it was such an act of hostility, reflecting nothing of Christian hospitality. Unfortunately it is not without precedent in the history of Christianity, but it is without precedent in the spirit of Jesus.
Jesus openness to others, his astounding hospitality, left some around him almost speechless, barely able to say, “What’s he doing?!” What Jesus did, he is still doing – reaching out with joy and laugher and love – trying to reach out through us to a humanity looking for acceptance and belonging. Awhile back a travel article in The New York Times about pubs in Oxford commented, “a good pub is a ready made party, a home away from home, a club anyone can join.” The church is meant to be such a place.
A seminary professor and pastor tells the following story (M Craig Barnes, Christian Century on-line): I was sitting at a bar. My wife and I were meeting for dinner after a hard day at work. She'd had demanding clients; I'd just wrapped up a difficult committee meeting at church. I noticed a disheveled and unshaven man in his early fifties a few barstools down from me. Something about him seemed uninviting. He was watching the baseball game on the bar's flat screen while smoking a cigar that was now a smoldering butt. Soon an attractive 40-something woman arrived in a crisp little black dress and perched on the stool next to him. She seemed nervous.
"Ah, there you are," he said without looking at her.
"Sorry I'm a little late," she offered. "I had to wait for the babysitter." He said nothing.
"You look nice," she lied.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled faintly. The silence hung between them until the bartender came by to ask the woman if she would like a drink.
The bartender said, "Mr. Smith, would you like a fresh cigar?" He responded, "No, Bob. I don't want to offend my date."
The date interjected, "Oh, that's OK. My late husband used to smoke cigars. I still have the humidor I bought for him in St. Bart's. He just loved it when we went anywhere he could buy Cubans."
Her date barked back, "Cubans are overrated. Only guys who know nothing about cigars keep talking about Cubans."
She smiled painfully and adjusted a bra strap. "Well, it's not important," she whispered as she took a sip of her cosmopolitan.
For the next 30 minutes the painful liturgy unfolded as if Woody Allen had written it. She kept trying to make herself appealing to him in desperate, fumbling ways, and he kept acting as if he were beyond finding appeal in anything. She asked questions about his work, to which he gave short evasive replies. She tried commenting on the baseball game, to which he gave a grunt or two. Maybe Mother Teresa was right. Our biggest disease is lack of connection – not belonging.
What Jesus did, he is still doing - reaching out to the beleaguered, the battered, those longing to belong, to have their humanity recognized – reaching out to you and me – reaching out with joy and laughter and love. We join him. Amen.
Text: Luke 15:1-10
Note: The printed text of the sermon will always be different from the preached text. Sometimes those differences are relatively small and sometimes more significant. I did not share the final story in preaching this sermon for no other reason than concern for time.
Kathy Myers of Niles, MI, age 41, has no health insurance. She has also been suffering from an increasingly painful shoulder injury, but because she has not health insurance she is continually turned away from emergency rooms because her injury is not life-threatening. She decided to take matters into her own hand. She shot herself in the shoulder hoping that the wound would be serious enough for ER treatment. She missed major arteries and bones and was sent home again. Sad, but you do wonder, what was she doing?
August 2004, St. Louis, MO: Police were summoned to an upscale office building on a report of a man roaming the halls with a gun, and on arrival, officers found some workers hiding under desks and in closets and others having fled the building. Police concluded that two lawyers, Gary Burger and Mark Cantor, were once again playing their game in the hallways, stalking each other with BB guns and occasionally firing. Most workers did not know that the men were playing, but one did because she had been shot in the finger and shoulder after walking into a previous battle. Police said that they would file gun charges, and one officer said the men would be tried “as adults.” What were these guys doing?
Labor Day in San Francisco, a man was arrested after he had been climbing near the top of a skyscraper in downtown. The building was 58 stories high. The man wondered what all the fuss was about. “I’m just trying to raise cancer awareness. I am not a terrorist. I am not trying to commit suicide.” What was this guy doing?
First century in Roman-controlled Palestine. A wandering religious teacher is seen by the religious authorities cavorting with some strange folks – tax collectors, sinners, the impure, the suspect. They can hardly believe it. “This, this… what’s he doing?! He welcomes sinners and eats with them.
The story probably seems a little overblown to us. Why get your tunic in a bunch just because of who someone chooses to eat with. I was at the State Fair last Monday. There were people eating all over the place, and who could tell who you were eating with? But Jesus eating practices were significant in his culture. They were central to his mission. Jesus was concerned that people were fed, to be sure. Meals often celebrated healings. Meals were often occasions for teaching, as this one will turn out to be. So we have a lot of stories about Jesus eating. But beyond sustenance, and celebration and teaching, meals at that time were about social inclusion. To eat with somebody was a deeply symbolic act. (Borg, Jesus, 157ff) Some of the religious leader of Jesus time were very careful about whom they ate with, concerned for their purity before God. Jesus leaves them almost speechless by his wild disregard for their concerns. He eats with those who had not been included, with the social outcasts, with the marginalized. He not only eats with them, he does so with joy and laughter. To justify his actions he tells wonderful and humorous stories – stories about frantic searches for a lost coin, of shepherd wandering away from 99 sheep to find one. No shepherd in his right mind would really do that. And who after turning your house upside down to find something you’ve misplaced really calls all the neighbors to tell them – “you know that coin I lost, well, I found it, let’s have a party!” The frequency of such stories in the gospels should tell us that there is something vitally important here for Christian faith and life. There is. We call it hospitality.
For Christians hospitality is not an industry concerned with meals and lodging while you travel. For Christians hospitality is not simply being nice to guests. Hospitality runs deep in our tradition. Welcoming is part and parcel of who we are as followers of Jesus.
An early Christian traveler recounts an experience of monastic hospitality in Egypt. As we drew near to that place and they realized that foreign brethren were arriving, they poured out of their cells like a swarm of bees and ran to meet us with delight and alacrity, many of them carrying containers of water and of bread…. When they had welcomed us, first of all they led us with psalms into the church and washed our feet and one by one they dried them with the linen cloth they were girded with, as if to wash away the fatigue of the journey. What can I say that would do justice to their humanity, their courtesy, and their love? (Diana Butler Bass, A People’s History of Christianity, 64)
Hospitality. Welcome. These should be the hallmarks of the church, the community formed around Jesus and the stories of Jesus. That churches often fail to measure up is deeply sad. We should be places of astonishing welcome, sometimes leaving people stammering for words.
What might that mean for us? It means being intentional about being warm and welcoming to any who come our way – on Sunday, but also on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. It means saying “hello” to the person you don’t know. It means offering coffee, or directions with warmth and a smile. Such acts are actions we can never be too good at.
But Christian welcome and hospitality go beyond that. If we are deeply welcoming, we will not just welcome people into our church just as it is. We will welcome people into a full participation which welcomes their ideas, and that can mean change. True Christian hospitality is an invitation to others, to any and all others to join us on the journey of faith, a journey that involves growth and change and mutual transformation in love. Mother Teresa once said, “The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis but rather the feeling of not belonging” (in Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance, 11) People yearn to be connected and the church should be a place where people find that sense of belonging. If you are here today, whether for the first or the five hundred and first time, know that you belong. Welcome in the name of Jesus Christ. Welcome in joy.
That sense of hospitality is so pervasive in Jesus and Christian faith that it spills over into other areas of our life. It is not only about the kind of community we are, it is also about how we deal with our selves, our inner lives. To know we are loved by God and accepted by Jesus means that we can offer hospitality to ourselves. Psychologist Carl Rogers once wrote, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” (in Brach, Radical Acceptance, 24) The person I am most impatient with in my life is me. When I’ve disappointed myself I can either spiral down by beating myself up, leaving little energy for reflection and positive change, or I can say, “o.k. It’s not what you wanted. You haven’t quite finished with that issue in your life. How do we move forward.” That usually serves me better. Change begins with hospitality towards oneself.
And hospitality extends beyond the church community and the self. It is meant to extend to the world. We who name the name of Jesus should be among the best people in the world at seeing the humanity of all others, even those who are different. What I have found so deeply troubling about Pastor Terry Jones and his Dove World Outreach Center in Gainsville, Florida and their plans to burn copies of the Quran was that it was such an act of hostility, reflecting nothing of Christian hospitality. Unfortunately it is not without precedent in the history of Christianity, but it is without precedent in the spirit of Jesus.
Jesus openness to others, his astounding hospitality, left some around him almost speechless, barely able to say, “What’s he doing?!” What Jesus did, he is still doing – reaching out with joy and laugher and love – trying to reach out through us to a humanity looking for acceptance and belonging. Awhile back a travel article in The New York Times about pubs in Oxford commented, “a good pub is a ready made party, a home away from home, a club anyone can join.” The church is meant to be such a place.
A seminary professor and pastor tells the following story (M Craig Barnes, Christian Century on-line): I was sitting at a bar. My wife and I were meeting for dinner after a hard day at work. She'd had demanding clients; I'd just wrapped up a difficult committee meeting at church. I noticed a disheveled and unshaven man in his early fifties a few barstools down from me. Something about him seemed uninviting. He was watching the baseball game on the bar's flat screen while smoking a cigar that was now a smoldering butt. Soon an attractive 40-something woman arrived in a crisp little black dress and perched on the stool next to him. She seemed nervous.
"Ah, there you are," he said without looking at her.
"Sorry I'm a little late," she offered. "I had to wait for the babysitter." He said nothing.
"You look nice," she lied.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled faintly. The silence hung between them until the bartender came by to ask the woman if she would like a drink.
The bartender said, "Mr. Smith, would you like a fresh cigar?" He responded, "No, Bob. I don't want to offend my date."
The date interjected, "Oh, that's OK. My late husband used to smoke cigars. I still have the humidor I bought for him in St. Bart's. He just loved it when we went anywhere he could buy Cubans."
Her date barked back, "Cubans are overrated. Only guys who know nothing about cigars keep talking about Cubans."
She smiled painfully and adjusted a bra strap. "Well, it's not important," she whispered as she took a sip of her cosmopolitan.
For the next 30 minutes the painful liturgy unfolded as if Woody Allen had written it. She kept trying to make herself appealing to him in desperate, fumbling ways, and he kept acting as if he were beyond finding appeal in anything. She asked questions about his work, to which he gave short evasive replies. She tried commenting on the baseball game, to which he gave a grunt or two. Maybe Mother Teresa was right. Our biggest disease is lack of connection – not belonging.
What Jesus did, he is still doing - reaching out to the beleaguered, the battered, those longing to belong, to have their humanity recognized – reaching out to you and me – reaching out with joy and laughter and love. We join him. Amen.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Counting Blue Cars
sermon preached September 5, 2010
Text: Luke 14:25-33
Play the first two minutes of “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwalla
Counting blue Cars youtube
This song is about someone walking with a child, playing childhood games and listening to children’s questions. The games and questions move from simple to profound. While walking they avoid cracks in the sidewalk. Any of you ever play that game? They count only blue cars. The child asks about God. Simple to profound. We would do well to listen to our children’s questions.
One counting question that children ask with some frequency, at least when they begin to understand something about money, is “How much?” “I would really like that game.” “We don’t have enough money today.” Well, how much is it?” How much – counting the cost. In our lives, the question of how much, of the cost of something, can become quite far-reaching. The other day I heard the president of St. Scholastica talk about the coming year at the college. Enrollment is up, they will be doing some new construction at the school. He said that things may, at times be busy, chaotic, and messy but that this was “the price of progress.” At the end of the video series, “The Beatles Anthology,” George Harrison says about the group and their fans: “They gave their money and their screams. The Beatles kind of gave their nervous systems which is a more difficult thing to give.” Counting the cost.
Jesus speaking to a large crowd lets them know that following the way can be difficult. It can create conflict, even in one’s most intimate relationships – father, mother, wife, children. He uses stark language – exaggeration, hyperbole – to make his point. He is not really encouraging hate, but encouraging deep thought. Following Jesus, following the Jesus way has its costs. We take up our cross, which is to say, we find how we can use our best gifts in the service of God and others – and this can lead to trouble sometimes. In yesterday’s Budgeteer, I was labeled a “deceiver” – not by name, but that’s what a paid advertisement said about any religious leaders who don’t unequivocally condemn homosexuality. I don’t consider “deceiver” a term of affection. Sometimes following Jesus means we step out of the economic mainstream – again Jesus uses hyperbole, there is no indication that every follower of Jesus even then gave up all their possessions, though some certainly did and some still do. Following the way may cost us our nervous systems sometimes in order to create beautiful music in the world – the music of peace, love, reconciliation, hospitality, justice, compassion.
Following Jesus has its costs. For some, it cost everything, their very lives. Dietrich Bonhoeffer followed Jesus and was killed by the Nazis for his opposition to Adolf Hitler. Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador followed Jesus and was killed by a right wing death squad for his advocacy for poor Salvadorans. Recently in Afghanistan ten medical missionaries, inspired by their Christian faith to help Afghanistan’s people, were killed. Some of those killed had been there for over thirty years, including Dan Terry, a United Methodist mission worker. (The Christian Century, 9-7-2010, p. 15) There are other costs to following the way. Ardell Graner, a United Methodist missionary who our church has supported for 18 years, visited here on Tuesday. As she discussed she and her husband’s work in Bolivia, one of the things that struck me was the cost. Their children live in a world where they are neither Bolivian nor American, and that can be a difficult place – the cost of the important work the Graners are doing.
Following Jesus can cost. There is a suggestion in the reading that Jesus is telling the crowd this so they can consider whether or not they want to be followers. But that seems kind of odd. Is that really how faith in God and following Jesus works? Do we really sit down and calculate a cost/benefit ratio? Are you going to, when the invitation for communion is given begin to think – well, Jesus just might do something kind of crazy to me when I go up there and I have a really busy week so I think I’ll skip communion today? That doesn’t seem to be how it works. Instead, God’s love grabs hold of us and we respond. Jesus touches our lives, and we respond. Things might get busy, chaotic, messy, our nervous systems might get a little jangled sometime, but we have decided to follow Jesus.
The people Jesus was talking to had decided to follow. For some it had meant being estranged from their families and communities. For some it had meant economic dislocation. For some it had meant ridicule. They did not need to be reminded that there was a cost to discipleship. They were paying it. The same would have been true, maybe even more so, for the original audience of Luke’s gospel later in the first century. I think maybe something else is going on here, then. If the price is being paid, you don’t need to remind someone of the cost.
Maybe what is going on here is an acknowledgement that following the Jesus way can be difficult and with that acknowledgement an encouragement to continue even so. Maybe what we have here is something like what Scott Peck does at the beginning of The Road Less Traveled. Once we truly know that life is difficult – once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. When you are experiencing something as difficult, it helps to have someone acknowledge the difficulty. When you are experiencing something as difficult, how do you feel when someone says, “it shouldn’t be that hard”? But if someone says, “yes, this is hard,” don’t you feel better, more energized to keep at it? Maybe that is more of what is going on here – a shift from “how much?” to another question – “is it worth it?”
Following Jesus can be difficult, but it is worth it. Following the Jesus way of caring, compassion, hospitality, the way of the changed heart and changing the world will not always be easy. It will always be worth it.
Let me probe even a little more deeply into this new question raised by the text – “is it worth it?” Life has costs, all life costs. In fact, life costs itself, it spends itself until there is nothing left to spend. That is a rather convoluted way to say we all die. It is the price of life. The question is, how do we live, and do we live so life is worth it.
This question has pressed itself upon me this week. Monday I found out that a former neighbor and parishioner of mine on the Iron Range had died. I called her husband of over sixty years to express our sympathies. Tuesday is the first time in my twenty-five plus years as a minister that I have dealt with three funeral on the same day. In the morning, Bell Brothers called looking for a Methodist pastor to officiate at a funeral Thursday. Knowing what families are going through when death comes, I try to say “yes” when I can, and I could make this work. That afternoon I had already planned to meet with Loren Nelson who many of you know has been battling cancer. It is not going well, and so Loren wanted to talk about his funeral when that time may come. Loren was my candidacy mentor when I was going through the ordination process. When I checked phone messages in my office later in the afternoon, I had two messages from an old friend, Sharon. Sharon’s family and my family grew up in Lester Park. Our families both were part of Lester Park UMC. I graduated from high school with Sharon’s brother. Sharon’s mother has been quite ill and when I first heard her voice, I though perhaps she was calling to tell me her mother had died. Instead, it was to tell me her younger sister, Kris, age 46, had died and would I be willing and available to officiate at her funeral on Saturday. I did. The cost of life is life itself, and the question isn’t whether we will pay that cost, we all will, the question is will we live so that life is worth it.
I love the line from Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Summer Day” where she poses the simple question, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?” Maybe that’s the deepest question of all posed in this text from Luke. Life costs itself – how are you going to spend it? Trying to avoid every adverse cost within life, trying to avoid every conflict, every risk probably means that you will not spend your life well. The Jesus way – the way of caring and compassion and hospitality, the way of the changed heart and changing the world – that way is a good way. That life is a life worthy of life. Sometimes it will be hard. We may disagree with those closest to us. We will make choices on a larger calculus than that of economic security. We open our eyes and our hearts to the hurting in the world. The Jesus way invites us to see life as a gift to be lived wisely and well. The Jesus way calls forth our best gifts and asks us to use them wisely and well in the service of God and of others. The Jesus way calls us to caring and sharing.
The question in life is not so much “how much?” but rather “is it worth it?” Those of us on the Jesus way say “YES!” Count on it. Amen.
Text: Luke 14:25-33
Play the first two minutes of “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwalla
Counting blue Cars youtube
This song is about someone walking with a child, playing childhood games and listening to children’s questions. The games and questions move from simple to profound. While walking they avoid cracks in the sidewalk. Any of you ever play that game? They count only blue cars. The child asks about God. Simple to profound. We would do well to listen to our children’s questions.
One counting question that children ask with some frequency, at least when they begin to understand something about money, is “How much?” “I would really like that game.” “We don’t have enough money today.” Well, how much is it?” How much – counting the cost. In our lives, the question of how much, of the cost of something, can become quite far-reaching. The other day I heard the president of St. Scholastica talk about the coming year at the college. Enrollment is up, they will be doing some new construction at the school. He said that things may, at times be busy, chaotic, and messy but that this was “the price of progress.” At the end of the video series, “The Beatles Anthology,” George Harrison says about the group and their fans: “They gave their money and their screams. The Beatles kind of gave their nervous systems which is a more difficult thing to give.” Counting the cost.
Jesus speaking to a large crowd lets them know that following the way can be difficult. It can create conflict, even in one’s most intimate relationships – father, mother, wife, children. He uses stark language – exaggeration, hyperbole – to make his point. He is not really encouraging hate, but encouraging deep thought. Following Jesus, following the Jesus way has its costs. We take up our cross, which is to say, we find how we can use our best gifts in the service of God and others – and this can lead to trouble sometimes. In yesterday’s Budgeteer, I was labeled a “deceiver” – not by name, but that’s what a paid advertisement said about any religious leaders who don’t unequivocally condemn homosexuality. I don’t consider “deceiver” a term of affection. Sometimes following Jesus means we step out of the economic mainstream – again Jesus uses hyperbole, there is no indication that every follower of Jesus even then gave up all their possessions, though some certainly did and some still do. Following the way may cost us our nervous systems sometimes in order to create beautiful music in the world – the music of peace, love, reconciliation, hospitality, justice, compassion.
Following Jesus has its costs. For some, it cost everything, their very lives. Dietrich Bonhoeffer followed Jesus and was killed by the Nazis for his opposition to Adolf Hitler. Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador followed Jesus and was killed by a right wing death squad for his advocacy for poor Salvadorans. Recently in Afghanistan ten medical missionaries, inspired by their Christian faith to help Afghanistan’s people, were killed. Some of those killed had been there for over thirty years, including Dan Terry, a United Methodist mission worker. (The Christian Century, 9-7-2010, p. 15) There are other costs to following the way. Ardell Graner, a United Methodist missionary who our church has supported for 18 years, visited here on Tuesday. As she discussed she and her husband’s work in Bolivia, one of the things that struck me was the cost. Their children live in a world where they are neither Bolivian nor American, and that can be a difficult place – the cost of the important work the Graners are doing.
Following Jesus can cost. There is a suggestion in the reading that Jesus is telling the crowd this so they can consider whether or not they want to be followers. But that seems kind of odd. Is that really how faith in God and following Jesus works? Do we really sit down and calculate a cost/benefit ratio? Are you going to, when the invitation for communion is given begin to think – well, Jesus just might do something kind of crazy to me when I go up there and I have a really busy week so I think I’ll skip communion today? That doesn’t seem to be how it works. Instead, God’s love grabs hold of us and we respond. Jesus touches our lives, and we respond. Things might get busy, chaotic, messy, our nervous systems might get a little jangled sometime, but we have decided to follow Jesus.
The people Jesus was talking to had decided to follow. For some it had meant being estranged from their families and communities. For some it had meant economic dislocation. For some it had meant ridicule. They did not need to be reminded that there was a cost to discipleship. They were paying it. The same would have been true, maybe even more so, for the original audience of Luke’s gospel later in the first century. I think maybe something else is going on here, then. If the price is being paid, you don’t need to remind someone of the cost.
Maybe what is going on here is an acknowledgement that following the Jesus way can be difficult and with that acknowledgement an encouragement to continue even so. Maybe what we have here is something like what Scott Peck does at the beginning of The Road Less Traveled. Once we truly know that life is difficult – once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. When you are experiencing something as difficult, it helps to have someone acknowledge the difficulty. When you are experiencing something as difficult, how do you feel when someone says, “it shouldn’t be that hard”? But if someone says, “yes, this is hard,” don’t you feel better, more energized to keep at it? Maybe that is more of what is going on here – a shift from “how much?” to another question – “is it worth it?”
Following Jesus can be difficult, but it is worth it. Following the Jesus way of caring, compassion, hospitality, the way of the changed heart and changing the world will not always be easy. It will always be worth it.
Let me probe even a little more deeply into this new question raised by the text – “is it worth it?” Life has costs, all life costs. In fact, life costs itself, it spends itself until there is nothing left to spend. That is a rather convoluted way to say we all die. It is the price of life. The question is, how do we live, and do we live so life is worth it.
This question has pressed itself upon me this week. Monday I found out that a former neighbor and parishioner of mine on the Iron Range had died. I called her husband of over sixty years to express our sympathies. Tuesday is the first time in my twenty-five plus years as a minister that I have dealt with three funeral on the same day. In the morning, Bell Brothers called looking for a Methodist pastor to officiate at a funeral Thursday. Knowing what families are going through when death comes, I try to say “yes” when I can, and I could make this work. That afternoon I had already planned to meet with Loren Nelson who many of you know has been battling cancer. It is not going well, and so Loren wanted to talk about his funeral when that time may come. Loren was my candidacy mentor when I was going through the ordination process. When I checked phone messages in my office later in the afternoon, I had two messages from an old friend, Sharon. Sharon’s family and my family grew up in Lester Park. Our families both were part of Lester Park UMC. I graduated from high school with Sharon’s brother. Sharon’s mother has been quite ill and when I first heard her voice, I though perhaps she was calling to tell me her mother had died. Instead, it was to tell me her younger sister, Kris, age 46, had died and would I be willing and available to officiate at her funeral on Saturday. I did. The cost of life is life itself, and the question isn’t whether we will pay that cost, we all will, the question is will we live so that life is worth it.
I love the line from Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Summer Day” where she poses the simple question, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?” Maybe that’s the deepest question of all posed in this text from Luke. Life costs itself – how are you going to spend it? Trying to avoid every adverse cost within life, trying to avoid every conflict, every risk probably means that you will not spend your life well. The Jesus way – the way of caring and compassion and hospitality, the way of the changed heart and changing the world – that way is a good way. That life is a life worthy of life. Sometimes it will be hard. We may disagree with those closest to us. We will make choices on a larger calculus than that of economic security. We open our eyes and our hearts to the hurting in the world. The Jesus way invites us to see life as a gift to be lived wisely and well. The Jesus way calls forth our best gifts and asks us to use them wisely and well in the service of God and of others. The Jesus way calls us to caring and sharing.
The question in life is not so much “how much?” but rather “is it worth it?” Those of us on the Jesus way say “YES!” Count on it. Amen.
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