Is God Pro-Life?

Text: John 10:1-10

Imagine with me, if you will, three people:

First there is Frank. Frank is 68-years-old, sitting beside a hospital bed where his wife of 47 years lies unconscious, connected to life support. Doctors have given her no chance of recovery. She has no advance directive. Frank is faced with a choice. . .a choice between life and death.

Next, meet Paula. Paula is 48-years-old and has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis for a few years now. Each year her symptoms worsen. She reads about the potential for stem cell research in helping her and perhaps thousands of other people, but wonders if stem cell research is ethical.

Finally, meet Allison, a 32-year-old professional. She and her husband have just learned that the child she carries inside her will be born with severe heart, liver, kidney and brain defects, and will likely live only hours if not minutes outside the womb. She never imagined she would ever consider abortion. . .

Three people all facing three incredibly difficult situations of life and quality of life. . .of death and unbirth. And in the middle of these real-life situations faced by our neighbors every day, we ask the question, “Is God Pro-Life?”

Let me calm some anxiety: I’m not going to tell anyone what they should think about the issue of legalized abortion. I don’t have nearly enough tenure to go there. So breathe easy.
What I want to do for the next few moments is to broaden the question, and open it up to be a much bigger question than simply the issue of abortion. The term “pro-life” in popular discourse seems to be limited to the abortion debate, but you and I both know that LIFE extends well past the womb. So the question “Is God Pro-Life?” should deal with LIFE from womb to tomb. The question “Is God Pro-Life” lingers around the hospital room where Frank prays for wisdom; it hovers in the quite den where Paula finds hope in reading the latest stem cell research news; it inhabits each tear on Allison’s cheek.

One of my favorite passages in all of scripture is from the book of John, chapter 10. Let’s read it together . . .

Jesus tells his followers here that his very purpose for taking on flesh and coming to earth is so that people might have LIFE. . .LIFE to the full. I think it’s safe to say that at least Jesus was a big fan of LIFE.

To join with Christ is to become a co-laborer with Christ in creating a world that would offer ABUNDANT LIFE for all people, from womb to tomb. If you believe this to be true, you likely have a difficult time fitting into either of the popular political camps. Let’s look at why.

Meet Cathy Conservative. She is pro-life when it comes to abortion, suggesting that a fetus is a human and to abort that fetus is akin to murder. But she is anti-life when it comes to the death penalty, suggesting that society has the right to take the life of a person if that person has committed crimes severe enough to warrant it.

Now meet Larry Liberal. Larry, unlike Cathy Conservative, is pro-choice when it comes to abortion, suggesting that women should have a choice when it comes to their bodies. But Larry is anti-choice when it comes to the death penalty, suggesting that society should not be given the choice to take the life any person despite, perhaps, heinous crimes against society.

The problem with both of these popular stances is that they are both terribly inconsistent. So in the middle of these inconsistencies with both popular camps when it comes to LIFE and CHOICE, let’s try and figure out if there’s a word from the Lord for ALL of us.

ALTERNATIVE 1: SANCTITY OF LIFE/CONSISTENT ETHIC OF LIFE
Joseph Cardinal Bernardin, the Archbishop of Chicago until his death in 1996, witnessed polarity and division within his own Catholic Church as well as the inconsistencies held on both sides of this debate. He began to promulgate what he called the “consistent ethic of life,” a philosophy based on the “sanctity of life” idea. It holds that issues such as abortion, capital punishment, militarism, euthanasia, social injustice and economic injustice all demand a consistent application of moral principles that value the sacredness of human life. Pope John Paul II’s The Gospel of Life echoes this sentiment and is the preeminent piece touting the sanctity of life.

There is consistency in this approach. A lot of the criticism the pro-life movement receives is that “pro-lifers” are often just “pro-birthers” with little or no concern for life outside the womb. Like the example of a pregnant woman on crack. Some “pro-lifers” might fight for legislation banning abortion for the mother on crack, while simultaneously opposing legislation that would hold society responsible for that crack baby’s welfare. Pro-birth, but not really pro-life.

The “consistent ethic of life” approach cannot be accused of such hypocrisy. In fact, Bernardin said over and over again that “If one contends, as we do, that the right of every unborn child should be protected by civil law . . . then our moral, political, and economic responsibilities do not stop at the moment of birth! We must defend that right to life of the weakest among us: we must also be supportive of the quality of life of the powerless among us: the old and the young, the hungry and the homeless, working mothers and single parents, the sick, the disabled, and the dying.”[1] A “consistent ethic of life” calls “us to respect the life in the womb, the life of a criminal, the life on welfare, the life of the dying.”[2] This approach takes seriously not just birth, but life, and works to alleviate systemic causes of anything that would threaten life from womb to tomb.

ALTERNATIVE 2: RESPECT FOR LIFE
I like the consistency of this approach, but I don’t think it’s perfect. Good Christian thinkers have criticized the “sanctity of life” idea: they warn that this philosophy might be inching up to idolatry, treating human life as a “second God,”[3] they elevate “quality of life,” suggesting that appeals to the sanctity of life beg the question, “that you know what kind of life it is that should be treated as sacred.”[4] they reject authoritarian solutions claiming that “ethics is not primarily about rules and principles; rather it is about how the self must be transformed to see the world truthfully.”[5] Or like our own Tim Meadows simplified that, “Ethics is about people not principles.”

The critics propose that life should be respected, but not deified. They favor situational ethics that respect life rather than authoritarian rules that limit human freedom.

Right, left, sanctity of life, respect for life. . .where’s the word of the Lord for us all?

As I said before, I don’t think it’s my place or even the church’s place to micromanage morality. The role of the church is to draw people to Christ. If you’ve read the Gospels, you know that Jesus emanated a “CONSISTENT ETHIC OF MERCY.” Touching the unclean, forgiving a woman caught in adultery, offering hope to a thief on the cross. Mercy was paramount to law for Christ in story after story we read in the gospels. We can argue about laws and legislation related to life and end-of-life issues. But the word of the Lord for us all tonight is the word “mercy.” The call of Christ is the compassionate life. . .compassion for Frank in the middle of a choice no one should ever have to make. Compassion for Paula who longs for healing. Compassion for Allison as she faces the immanent loss of a child. As you make your own judgments about legislation surrounding issues related to life and death, follow the way of Christ, the way of compassion. By that, God will indeed be honored.

[1] Joseph Bernardin, 1986 New York address.
[2] Kenneth R. Overberg. “A Consistent Ethic of Life.” http://www.americancatholic.org/Newsletters/CU/ac0798.asp
[3] Karl Barth. Church Dogmatics. Vol. 3:4, 342.
[4] Stanley Hauerwas, Suffering Presence, p. 92.
[5] Stanley Hauerwas, Peaceable Kingdom, 30, 33.

Virgins, Whales, and Dead Men Walking: Tall Tales or Sacred Truth?

Text: Jonah 1:17, 2:1-10

Welcome to the first of our 7-week series we’re calling “Tough Questions.” During this series we’re going to deal with some difficult questions. Some of these questions might stir us a little bit. They might make us anxious; they might make us feel like we need to choose sides or defend our position. In a church as diverse as ours, we’ll have a lot of different opinions represented among us. It would be easier for your pastors if you would all agree on everything! The challenge for all of us as we go through this series is to discern, “Is there a word from the Lord for everyone in the middle of this tough and perhaps divisive question?”

Some of the topics in this series might elicit some emotional reactions. Some may be positive and others negative. If you experience a strong reaction to some of these issues, I want to encourage you to pause and reflect, “Why do I feel so strongly about this?” “Why is Marty making me so mad?” “Why am I so certain that Tim has it absolutely right?” And remember, any time you feel defensive, it’s because of fear. We defend our homes for fear of intruders. We defend our nation for fear our freedoms or our way of life being taken away. We defend our faith and our moral positions out of fear as well.

I led a group of college students in a study that dealt with difficult issues, much like our new series. One particular young man came to the study, tended to dominate the conversation, and was quite fixed in his pretty narrow opinions. So one day I asked him quite bluntly, “Why have you joined this study if you feel you have nothing to learn?” His reply was, “I came to defend God.”

Now you and I know that God really doesn’t need us to defend Him. However, this young man was defending something, for sure, but I have a hunch what he was defending was his own, black-and-white way of seeing the world.

Now I don’t think Marty or Tim or I are going to try to intentionally push anyone’s buttons. But we’re dealing with “Tough Questions,” so it’s quite possible a button will be pushed along the way. So I challenge you, during this series in particular, if you find yourself feeling defensive, ask the question, “Why do I feel defensive? What am I afraid of?” But be warned: this inward exploration, should you choose to risk it, might cause you to grow spiritually. There. You’ve been warned.

So let’s begin! “Virgins, Whales, and Dead Men Walking? Tall Tales or Sacred Truth?”
This first question in our series “is the single greatest issue dividing Christians in North America today.”[1] So I figure it’s a great place to start. Additionally, most of the other questions we’ll tackle during this series in some form go back to this question . . . “What do we do with the Bible?” Namely, what do we do with all of those stories in the Bible that seem beyond human reason? Some of those stories have been alluded to in the sermon title: a virgin giving birth, a big fish swallowing Jonah and vomiting him up onto dry land, and a man being raised to life after being dead three days. There are lots of other stories from the Bible that reason tells us is impossible. The idea of a literal Adam and Eve who walked around naked having a conversation with a reptile. Noah getting two of every critter onto that boat. . .tapeworms and rhinos and tsetse flies. The healings, the water turning into wine, the walking on the water. The Red Sea parting. And we could go on and on.

The Bible is chock full of stories that seem scientifically impossible. Good Christians tend to interpret these stories and the Bible as a whole in one of two ways:

THE LITERAL/FACTUAL APPROACH
Lots of good Christians have no issues with these stories, and call it a matter of faith to believe that these stories are literally true. There’s a bumper sticker I’ve seen that captures this kind of understanding of the Bible: “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” This matter-of-fact sentiment may not be fair to everyone who interprets the Bible more literally; it’s a broad-stroke “sound byte.” If you are blessed to have that kind of faith, I think that’s wonderful! The question “Tall Tales or Sacred Truth?” may not be a tough one for you. . .the answer may be clear. “Sacred Truth, stupid!” Let’s go eat!

THE HISTORICAL/METAPHORICAL APPROACH
Other good Christians have a harder time with what to make of the “Good Book.” I want to spend a little more time here with the folks who have wrestled with some of the stories in the Bible. For you, maybe it is a tough question, what to make of all of the amazing, but perhaps hard-to-believe stories we find in the scriptures.

I want to read something written by one of those good Christian folks. When I first read this a few years ago, I was startled by the bluntness of the passage I’ll condense for you. So beware, you may be startled too. You might disagree completely with what I’m about to read. You might feel ambivalent. You might agree. But remember as I read, if it stirs a strong emotion in you, look into that emotion and discover where it’s coming from.

“I am a Christian. For forty-five years I have served the Christian church as a deacon, priest, and bishop. I call Jesus my Lord. I believe that my particular life has been dramatically and decisively impacted not only by the life of this Jesus, but also by his death and indeed by the Easter experience that Christians know as the resurrection. I do not believe that Jesus could or did in any literal way raise the dead, overcome a medically diagnosed paralysis, or restore sight to a person born blind or to one in whom the ability to see had been physiologically destroyed. Nor do I believe he enabled one who was mute and profoundly deaf since birth to hear. I do not believe that Jesus entered this world by the miracle of a virgin birth or that virgin births occur anywhere except in mythology. I do not believe a literal star guided literal wise men to bring Jesus gifts or that literal angels sang to hillside shepherds to announce his birth. I do not believe that the experience Christians celebrate at Easter was the physical resuscitation of the three-days-dead body of Jesus, nor do I believe that anyone literally talked with Jesus after the resurrection moment, gave him food, touched his resurrected flesh, or walked in any physical manner with his risen body. I find it interesting that all of the narratives that tell of such encounters occur only in the later gospels.”[2]

What do you think about that? Can this man genuinely call himself a Christian?

Knowing that some of us here tonight would hold a more literal hermeneutic and some of us hold a more metaphorical hermeneutic, is there a word from the Lord for us all? I believe there is. Whether you believe the Bible literally or not, it is important to understand the nature of scripture. It is only the modern, Western reader who might struggle with how to interpret the Bible. It is only in modern times, since the enlightenment and the proliferation of the “scientific method” that this became a question. The scientific method, as you know, is concerned with objective, measurable data and the proving and disproving various hypotheses. “We know something to be true today through experimentation and verification.”[3]

Conditioned by modernity, we run the Bible through this same, modern litmus test. You and I as modern readers are concerned with FACTS.

However, this has only been the case for (and I’m being generous) three or four hundred years. Throughout the first 1,500 years of Christianity, this hang-up about “factuality” didn’t exist. Pre-modern people were more concerned with TRUTH. Stories didn’t have to be FACT to have value or to be TRUE. Here’s an example:
An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life."A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego. The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."The grandson thought about it for a minute, then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"The old chief simply replied, "The one you feed."

Is that a factual story? No. But is it true? Not only is this true, but it is powerfully true!

Personally, I wrestled with scripture for a long time. It first started when I was in college, feeling called into vocational ministry. I had no female role models for this. I was in a denomination that didn’t support women in ministry. And then there was the Bible. In one passage I’d read “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent,”[4] and then I’d read “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”[5] I’d read “A deacon must be the husband of but one wife,”[6] and then I’d read about Phoebe, “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church.”[7] You might say I was a little confused.

Then in my first semester of seminary I took a course on Biblical interpretation, and I learned the quite subjective way the canon was formed and I felt like everything my faith had been based on was ripped out from under me. I had to find a way to take the Bible seriously without taking it literally.

I found that way. Today I no longer wrestle with scripture. The story I’m about to tell you points to why.

C.S. Lewis is one of the most influential Christian writers in modern, Western thought, but he spent much of his young adult years unconvinced of the veracity of Christianity’s claims. J.R.R. Tolkien of Lord of the Rings fame was influential in Lewis’ conversion to Christianity. Tolkien’s biographer writes about a particular conversation between the two literary heavyweights in which Lewis told Tolkien, “myths are lies and therefore worthless."
Tolkien said, "No, they are not lies." Tolkien went on to explain that myths were far from being lies, and in fact they were the best way — sometimes the only way — to convey truth that would otherwise might remain inexpressible. Tolkien argued that because we come from God, the myths woven by us, though they contain error, reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily toward the true harbor. Tolkien explained to Lewis that the story of Christ was the true myth at the very heart of history and at the very root of reality. This revelation changed Lewis' whole conception of Christianity, precipitating his conversion.

Tolkien understood that fiction works with facts, albeit invented facts, whereas myth works with truth, albeit truth dressed in fancy disguises.[8]

I don’t wrestle with scripture any more. The reason why is that I don’t try to make the Bible into something it was never intended to be. The Bible is not science text book. The Bible is not a fact book. The Bible is, however, a book of truth. Every page contains truth. Every single story points to God, to ultimate reality. From Adam and Eve in the garden to the horsemen in the book of Revelation. . .it is true. I don’t get hung up on fact versus fiction, because bigger than that is TRUTH, and I pray to God that I’m always seeking truth!

Virgin birth of Jesus—fact or fiction? I don’t know and I don’t care.

Jonah and the whale—fact or fiction? I don’t know and I don’t care.

The physical resuscitation of Jesus—fact or fiction? I don’t know and I don’t care.

Why don’t I care if these events happened literally or not? Because in every case, God’s TRUTH is revealed, and that’s far more powerful to me than yet one more inconsequential FACT.
The word of the Lord for ALL of us tonight is this: “You shall know the TRUTH and the TRUTH shall set you free.”[9] Be seekers of TRUTH! Let others micromanage the facts. By this will you be set FREE!




[1] Marcus J. Borg. Reading the Bible Again for the First Time: Taking the Bible Seriously but not Literally. San Francisco: HarperCollins Publishers. p. 4.
[2] John Shelby Spong. A New Christianity for a New World. Chapter 1.
[3] Borg, p. 15.
[4] 1 Timothy 2:12, New International Version.
[5] Galatians 3:28, New International Version.
[6] 1 Timothy 3:12, New International Version.
[7] Romans 16:1, Today’s New International Version.
[8] Joseph Pearce. J.R.R. Tolkien: Truth and Myth.
[9] John 8:32

The Surefire Way to Prevent Identity Theft (Year A-Pentecost 2)

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on May 25, 2008, click here.

Text: Matthew 6:24-34

I have an earworm. You know what an earworm is, right? It’s typically a catchy tune that gets stuck in your head and you find yourself singing it or whistling it and it just won’t go away. Here’s my earworm: “They say a man should always dress for the job he wants,So why am I dressed up like a pirate in this restaurant?It’s all because some hacker stole my identity;Now I’m in here every evening serving chowder and iced tea.”

I must confess I realize just how sad it is that I know every line to the jingle for FreeCreditReport.com (which isn’t really free, by the way). This stupid little song has been lodged in my brain for about two weeks now. This company has a couple of other commercials with a similar theme: be afraid of identity theft.

It seems that a lot of people are telling us to be afraid of identity theft. Citibank has a string of commercials about identity theft. In 1995 Sandra Bullock starred in a movie called The Net, a thriller in which Bullock played the victim of identity theft. The movie is a nail-biter about her plight not only to regain her identity but to stay alive.

Our scripture lesson today is taken from Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” In the “Sermon on the Mount” Jesus calls “those who would be his followers to radical devotion and radical dependence on God. His followers must be meek, must not retaliate, must go beyond the letter’s law to its spirit, must do what is right when only God is looking, and must allow God to be the judge of another person’s heart.”[1] In our reading today, would-be followers of Christ must “depend on God for their needs and pursue [God’s] interests rather than their own. In short, true people of the kingdom live for God, not for themselves.”[2] It’s a counter-cultural way of life that Jesus taught, and nothing is more difficult for you and me as accomplices in American consumerism than the teachings of Jesus on materialism. Jesus lists the most basic material items, food and clothing, and then says that “pagans run after these things.” I don’t know about you, but I run after way more than food and clothing! I wonder what Jesus might call me? Don’t answer that.

Our consumer-oriented ears have a hard time hearing this teaching for what it is. . .we soften it and imagine that Jesus is concerned in this passage about our anxiety level saying “Don’t worry; be happy!” But this is hard teaching in which Jesus challenges the focus of our minds and the very focus of our lives: material things.

I recently started reading a book called Affluenza. The title is a word coined by the authors by joining two words together: “affluence” and “influenza.” They define “affluenza” as “a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more.”[3]
Affluenza has a host of symptoms according to the authors:
· “Shopping fever: We have twice as many shopping centers as high schools, and more of us visit shopping malls each week than go to church. Shopping centers are outpacing national parks as holiday destinations.
· Swollen expectations: Our sense of what we “need” to live comfortably has expanded far beyond [both] our earning power [and] the earth’s ability to accommodate us. Since World War II, the average home has grown from 750 square feet to 2,300. In many of these homes, the garage space alone exceeds the size of an entire 1950’s starter home. There are more cars than drivers in the U.S., and despite all the extra living space, the storage business is booming. This 12 billion dollar industry is larger than the American music industry.
· Rash of bankruptcies: We have a higher rate of bankruptcy today than we did during the Great Depression, even though Americans work more hours than citizens of any other country. · Chronic ache for meaning: As a nation, we are depressed, divorced, in debt, overweight, and overwhelmed. We seek solace in food, shopping, and TV; we neglect our bodies, our families, our communities, and our environment. Child suicide rates have tripled since the 1960’s.[4]

The authors didn’t know that the U.S. foreclosure rate would reach its highest peak ever just last month,[5] and they couldn’t have predicted that the government would pass a $165 billion economic stimulus package to feed the American consumer’s addiction and hopefully bolster the economy. They tell us it’s our patriotic duty to go shopping! Yippee!

Since 1950, Americans alone have consumed more resources than everyone who ever lived before them in the history of the world. Each American individual uses up 20 tons of basic raw materials annually. Americans throw away 7 million cars a year, 2 million plastic bottles an hour and enough aluminum cans annually to make six thousand DC-10 airplanes. We just can’t help ourselves!

The symptoms of affluenza are too numerous to mention. However, affluenza is not just an economic disorder; it’s a spiritual plague manifesting itself in ways that Jesus couldn’t possibly have imagined when he delivered his “Sermon on the Mount.” There is an interconnectedness between the economic madness of our day and the great spiritual vacuum noticed by so many including Mother Teresa. When Mother Teresa visited the U.S., she commented that the United States, “is the poorest place I’ve ever been in my life.”[6] This observation came from a woman who served some of the poorest people in the world in Calcutta, India. Her biting remark about America had nothing to do with income levels or Gross National Product, rather she was talking about America’s ubiquitous “poverty of soul.”[7]

Mother Teresa articulated the irony of a people enjoying the greatest material wealth in the history of humankind, yet sadly out of touch with the deepest workings of the Spirit. Did she see in America the very epitome of Jesus’ truth in Mark 8:36: “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?”

Let’s look again at our text. The problem isn’t money or material wealth or the lack thereof; the problem is priorities: “No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money. So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

Please hear me: things in and of themselves aren’t bad, but a preoccupation with things can leave us spiritually empty. That which is eternal in each of us is void of substance and matter. When we are consumed with taking care of things of the body. . .material things, we tend to neglect the soul and our souls become impoverished.

It’s easy to do. It’s easy to form our identity around that which is tangible. Houses, cars, travel or even our own bodies. But at our deepest level, we are more than houses and cars and the like. When we begin to recognize our true identity as spirit. . .when we begin to feed that spirit, we are on the path to the abundant life that Christ promised, which has nothing to do with material things. When we begin to recognize our true identity as spirit, no identity thief in the world can take that away from us! The surefire way to prevent identity theft is to “store up for [ourselves] treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where [identity] thieves do not break in and steal.”[8]

In the latest issue of The American, Arthur Brooks tells a story about a forty-two-year-old forklift operator from Corbin, Kentucky, named Mack Metcalf who won $65 million from a three-dollar lottery ticket. It changed his life forever. “What did he do first? He quit his job . . . in fact, his first impulse was to quit everything after a life characterized by problem drinking, dysfunctional family life, and poorly paid work.” He told Kentucky lottery officials that he was moving to Australia to totally get away. He planned to buy several houses there, including a beach house. “Metcalf never worked again. But he never moved to Australia. Instead he bought a 43-acre estate” with a big, beautiful house in Corbin for more than $1 million. Then he spent his hours pursuing pastimes like collecting expensive cars and exotic pets like tarantulas and snakes. “Trouble started for Metcalf as soon as he won the lottery. Seeing him on television, a social worker recognized him as delinquent for child support from a past marriage, resulting in a settlement that cost him half a million dollars. A former girlfriend bilked him out of another half million while he was drunk. He fell deeper and deeper into alcoholism and became paranoid that those around him wanted to kill him. Racked with cirrhosis of the liver and hepatitis, he died” at forty-five years of age, roughly three years after hitting it big.[9]

Let me be the one to break it to you; most of us won’t ever win a $65 million dollar jackpot. But let’s face another fact; compared to a vast majority of the world’s population, we’re all pretty well off. Let’s be thankful that we don’t have to worry about whether or not we can afford to eat today.

Yet despite our plenty, most of us find ourselves wanting more, even though we have a nagging hunch that what we own really owns us. The fact is our thoughts are all too often consumed with the things of this world, material things. Let’s begin to unleash our true identity . . . our eternal nature in Christ. Let’s begin to “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to [us] as well.” How? Let’s start with a simple prayer:

Free us from our addiction to stuff, O Lord we pray. We hoard up for ourselves material things, imagining those things will make us happy or secure or respected. Yet in all of our fullness, we are still empty. Break us from our preoccupation and open up our spirits to new freedom found only in you. We place our trust in you, knowing that all that has been and ever will be is in your hands. Amen.

[1] IVP New Testament Commentary.
[2] Ibid.
[3] John de Graaf, David Wann, Thomas H. Naylor, Affluenza: The All-Consuming Epidemic. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2005.
[4] Erin O'Connor, http://www.erinoconnor.org/reviews/affluenza.shtml.
[5] Kenneth Musante, “U.S. foreclosure filings reached a record high in April (2008),” http://money.cnn.com/2008/05/14/real_estate/foreclosure_rates/?postversion=2008051405).
[6] De Graaf, Waan, Naylor, p. 74.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Matthew 6:20.
[9] Arthur C. Brooks, “Can Money Buy Happiness?” The American, May/June 2008.

Future Story (Year A-Second Sunday of Easter)

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on March 30, 2008, click here.

I Peter 1:3-9

It was August in the Tennessee Valley. I was 13 going on 14. I had convinced my mother to take me to where all the cool kids wanted to be on a hot summer night . . . an evangelistic crusade.

The brand new football stadium at Heritage High School was packed to hear a young, fiery preacher. I don’t remember much about the sermon; I don't remember what scripture passage was used. But I do remember the “invitation.” It was one of those invitations where the preacher says just about anything to get you to come down that aisle short of offering free beer.

Now, I had already had a believer’s baptism when I was a little younger. I was active in church. But that fiery preacher convinced me and countless others that night that we were destined for hell. He literally scared the hell out of me. Emotion was high as people streamed down the stadium steps. I remember the angst I felt, and how compelled I was to join the steaming masses and go get “born again” again. So I did. A few days later I was baptized. Again. You might say I’ve been “double dipped,” or as I like say, “the first time just didn’t take.”

That was a long time ago, and though I look back now and question the method, I thank God for that night. It was a significant event in my spiritual journey which fixed me ever more firmly in the way of Christ. Now I have a pulpit of my very own, I choose not to use the coercive methods I experienced that night. Some may say that scaring the hell out of people has its place, but the God I know is not a God of fear. In fact, I have read that Jesus talks about heaven 10 times more than he talked about hell.[1] I figure what’s good enough for Jesus is good enough for me! So let’s talk about heaven.

I’ve been taking an informal poll the past few days asking people, “What do you think heaven will be like?” I wanted to know what people really think since most of us don’t really believe we’ll spend eternity floating on cloud or sitting through a worship service that never ends. So here’s some of your fellow church members think about heaven:
· Several folks think heaven will be a truly joyous reunion with loved ones who have gone on before and with Jesus himself! Noah and Peter and others will be there, telling us amazing stories. Our animal friends will be there to welcome us home along with glorious angels.
· Some folks think that all of our questions will be answered, or as one person beautifully said, “All knowledge will be opened up to us.”
· Others describe the ambiance of heaven: everyone will be smiling; the flowers will be brighter than ever; the sun will be warm and so enjoyable. Someone else imagines heaven as white, pure and clean with beautiful gardens and wonderful weather all the time. Another imagines ubiquitous tranquility and happiness, where people get along compassionately.
· Some mentioned how they thought we would spend our time. One person said we will sing and worship the Lord; we will play and love and laugh. Someone else said that everyone will have meaningful tasks to do.
· Lots of people mentioned what will NOT be in heaven, like tears, fear, jealousy or sorrow. One person said there would be no bitterness, fighting, or corruptness.
· One person said he’d receive invitation to play in the Masters, and he’d get a hole-in-one at the 16th hole! Another said we could eat all the time and never gain a pound!
· A 10-year-old philosopher thinks that the houses in heaven are made out of pretty wood with golden gates, but the gates have tiny thorns so the devil can’t get in.

Our scripture lesson today talks about heaven, saying that in heaven we have “an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade.” The scripture tells us that because Christ Jesus is risen from the dead, we have an inheritance waiting for us in heaven! It’s a message of hope for our future.

A couple of years ago, I found myself on a team working to establish priorities and goals for the agency I was serving. We hired a consultant[2] who promised to help us create what he called our “future story.” I have grown to love that turn of phrase, “future story.” We tend to think of our story as being in the past, but each of us has a future story, one waiting to be written.

When we imagine how magnificent heaven will be, we are creating our future story. As folks would tell me their ideas about what heaven will be like, I found myself saying, “Sign me up for that!” Each vision told to me—each future story—was full of beauty and wonder and joy. Seeing loved ones, nailing the 16th hole in Augusta, eating box after box of Girl Scout cookies . . . sign me up for all of it!

Mitch Albom, author of The Five People You Meet in Heaven, once said in an interview, “if you believe that there’s a heaven, your life here on Earth is different. You may believe that you’re gonna see your loved ones again. So the grief that you had after they’re gone isn’t as strong. You may believe that you’ll have to answer for your actions. So the way you behave here on Earth is changed. So in a certain way, just believing in the idea of heaven is heavenly in and of itself.”[3]

I think Mr. Albom is on to something. The future story we create about heaven impacts the life we have now. Namely, it gives us hope.

But that’s not all. Our scripture tells us that the resurrection of Christ not only ensures for us an inheritance in heaven (hope for our future), but the resurrection offers us LIVING hope (hope for right now). Hope for the very living of our lives. Our future story isn’t just in heaven. The hope of the risen Christ isn’t just for the afterlife. The hope of Jesus is for NOW. When we think of salvation as something that only happens after we die, we miss the point. The scripture says, “for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” Not only do we receive salvation after death, but we receive salvation every single day and with every single breath. Thanks be to God!

What does this mean, salvation in the now? It means two things for us.

First, it means that we are to claim ownership of our own future story. We are co-authors with God! We are to set our imaginations free to create the next chapter, and the next, and the next.

Many of you know that my life has been fairly eventful the past few years. The fact is that I found myself at a pretty low place a few years ago. I was getting into my mid-thirties, I was unmarried, and I was quite lonely. I was at odds with the denomination I was serving. So for someone whose life was completely enmeshed with work, it was a very tumultuous time. I saw my dream of having a family slipping away. But I knew I had a choice to make. I could give in to the apparent path my life was taking, or I could envision a better day and write a more joyful future story for myself. By the grace of God, I chose the latter. I made a break from my job and found freedom in a new one. Then I joined E-harmony.com and met my soul mate. Then the most amazing little boy entered our lives. Today I feel so blessed to be living a beautiful story . . . a story that at one time was only my hopeful “future story.”

Reality is we’re all living out, to some extent, a future story we created for ourselves. I know a lot of people in our church have worked really hard, saved money, raised families, and are now living out a future story in a wonderful place with amazing people and golf courses and a beautiful lake. But there are still chapters to be written. The LIVING hope of the resurrected Christ calls us to set our imaginations free to co-author with God the next chapter of our lives.

The second thing the living hope of Christ means for us is that not only are we to claim ownership of our own future story, but we are to claim ownership of humanity’s future story. Faith calls us into relationship with all of God’s children and all of God’s creation. Each one of us writes a part of the great human story. It is our responsibility as children of God to create a more hopeful story for the rest of God’s children, today and in the days to come.

I’ve had the opportunity to travel twice to North Africa to serve alongside dear friends of mine who minister in the midst of one of the great humanitarian crises of our day. They live in a country where African migrants are arriving in droves; some estimates say that as many as 300,000 Sub-Saharan Africans are making their way any given day. Along the way, these people (many professional and well-educated) are robbed, sometimes beaten to the point of death, and even killed. The women suffer unimaginable violence. Then once they arrive in the country where my friends serve, they receive a more of the same. They have hope of making it into Europe, but tightened border security has made it nearly impossible, so they’re stuck in a country where they’re not wanted.

Every day my friends hear their tragic stories and respond. When asked why they would give their lives to work in the midst of such dire human experience, they say, “In a place where all they know is rejection, we see ourselves as the outstretched arms of Christ to welcome them after their horrific journey, offering help and hope and love. Our presence tells these children of God, these people who have been stripped of their very humanity, ‘God is here. God knows. God cares.’”

They have amazing stories of how some of these people triumph despite unbelievably difficult circumstances. My friends in North Africa are helping to create a more hopeful future story for hundreds upon thousands of God’s children.

Truth is we don’t have to go to Africa to find people who need our help in creating a more hopeful future story. All we have to do is open our eyes. Each of us must contribute to a more hopeful future story for humanity.

You may remember a movie came out a few years ago called Apollo 13. It was about a mission in space that went terribly wrong and NASA feverishly working to get the astronauts home safely. There’s a scene in the movie where the Houston scientists were gathered around a table, and someone came in and dumped a big box of objects onto the table, objects the astronauts in space could access. Their task was to use only the objects they had to create a square peg from a round hole. Immediately their imaginations go to work; the lives of their fellow astronauts depending upon their successful completion of this task.

In our lives, each of us has a “box” if you will, and in those boxes are unique sets of circumstances from which we must create tomorrow. We have different experiences, talents, abilities, resources, and limitations. But from that box, our future story awaits. We must use what we have been given to create a more hopeful future story for humanity; we must be proactive in creating our own future stories. Christ is risen! Hope is alive! And so the story goes. Amen.

[1] Steve Bagdanov. “Heaven and Hell: Beware What You Hear.” http://thetemple.wordpress.com/2007/01/25/heaven-and-hell-beware-what-you-hear/
[2] Richard L. Hamm.
[3] ABC News. “Heaven—Where is it? How do we get there?” http://abcnews.go.com/International/Beliefs/story?id=1374010

Eden's Dark Secret (Year A-First Sunday in Lent)

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on February 10, 2008, click here.

Text: Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

I was 30 years old when I bought my first house. It was a wonderful little house tucked away in a beautiful wooded neighborhood. It had cathedral ceilings and an open floor plan and a cute little screened-in-porch, but the best part was that it was brand new—never-been-lived-in. I bought that house because it was so new and clean, and I thought of it as a blank canvas, ready for me to put my imagination to work throughout the rooms and yard. I lived in that little house for five years, but it came time for me to move to another state so I had to sell it. In the process of selling, I discovered that my house had been keeping a dark secret. Everything about the house seemed so perfect with all the new appliances and fixtures, but underneath the house, in the damp, dark places I never saw, termites were beginning to set up camp, eating away at the very foundation of my wonderful little house.

The next house I bought was in the city. It was a cute little cottage in a neighborhood where the mailman actually walked his route. Unlike my first house, this house was about 50-years-old, but it had been well loved and cared for. This house wasn’t quite the blank canvas of my previous house, but this house had character. A magnificent oak tree stood in the front yard. The eat-in kitchen had a built-in booth. It had a sun room that I filled with plants that thrived, overlooking a fenced-in back yard where our dog would run and play. The perfect little bungalow. . .or so we thought. Like my first house, this perfect little cottage was also keeping a dark secret. When we had to sell the house to move here, we discovered that all throughout the house, invisible to the human eye, a terribly harmful substance called radon lurked. Radon is the second leading cause of lung cancer in the U.S., and my growing family was breathing the stuff every day.

Then at the ripe old age of 37 it was time to move to a retirement community. . .Tellico Village. Dave Brown, our realtor, took us around to look at all of the houses in our price range (which took about ten minutes), and we fell in love with one in Chota Hills. We were thrilled that it had a view of the lake at sat at the end of a cul-de-sac. The house has big windows and a large deck and beautiful hardwood flooring. It was about 20-year-old, but had been given some well chosen cosmetic updates. With this house, we felt like we had arrived! But this house in prestigious Tellico Village, just like the others, was keeping a dark secret. We’ve been in the house four months now, and we’ve already had to replace the dishwasher and repair a toilet. Then a couple of weeks ago our heat went out. The cosmetic updates distracted us from caring about the aging appliances and plumbing and HVAC systems. But who cares about that stuff if you can see the lake, right? Every home has secrets, even in Tellico Village.

Our scripture lesson on this first Sunday in Lent takes us back to the Garden of Eden, humanity’s first home. It is no surprise to me, now a seasoned home-owner, that humanity’s first home was hiding something. Eden had a dark secret. It doesn’t jump out at you from the pages of the Old Testament. It’s not in the black and white. Like termites, it hides in the dark or perhaps like radon, Eden’s Dark Secret is all around us, yet invisible to our human eyes.

We think of Eden as Utopia, but Utopia, by definition, is impractical or even imaginary. God had given Adam and Eve freedom to enjoy the garden, yet the freedom had limits. “You can eat the fruit of any tree, except one. The tree in the center of the garden, you must not touch.”

It’s an odd story, isn’t it? Imagine a parent talking to a two-year-old saying, “Now, you can play with any toy in your room. But I’m going to place this toy here in the center of your room, and though you can play with any other toy, you must not play with this toy.” When the parent leaves the room, Eden’s Dark Secret pays that two-year-old a visit. I’m not talking about temptation; that’s too easy. I’m talking about the pre-condition for temptation.

It was everywhere Adam and Eve went within the garden; it set the stage for their great temptation. It is with each of us and has been since birth. I see it in my octogenarian grandmother and I see it in my infant son. Even in the hospital immediately after his birth I saw babies recently separated from their mothers, crying because Eden’s Dark Secret was ever present. Nurses offered pacifiers to the little ones, trying to calm their spirits. We adults have our own “pacifiers” we use to combat Eden’s Dark Secret. Jesus wasn’t immune to it. I imagine that when he retreated to the wilderness for his forty days of fasting, Eden’s Dark Secret was with him, setting the stage for the three temptations he faced there.
So what is it? What is Eden’s Dark Secret? A-N-X-I-E-T-Y.[1]

Any English teacher will tell you that every good story has conflict. Conflict, tension, or anxiety as I’m calling it is a key element of plot. I like to think of every human life as a magnificent story. I have my story; you have your own, unique story. I don’t really own much in this world, and even the things I do own can’t go with me to eternity. But my story is one thing, maybe the only thing, which is truly mine. My story will remain long after this body no longer contains me. The problem with my story and your story and every story is that every good story has conflict; every good story has anxiety. Eden was no Utopia, because inherent in the human condition is Eden’s Dark Secret: anxiety.

Eden was a place of freedom within limits. Reinhold Niebuhr suggests that living in that kind of paradox makes humans anxious. He says that “being both free and bound, both limited and limitless, is anxious.”[2] Anxiety in and of itself is not wrong; it can be directed toward creative endeavors or destructive ones. In the Garden of Eden and in the garden of our lives, anxiety is simply the pre-condition for temptation, for wanting to test our limits and imagine that we are in control.[3]

When anxiety gets out of control, it can be crippling; psychologists have identified a myriad of anxiety disorders and, thankfully, there are effective treatments available. Good Christian folk should feel no shame in getting treatment for these and other psychological and emotional disorders. For most folks, the anxiety inherent in our human condition can be managed; it can even be helpful. Let me explain. A little bit of anxiety can motivate you to pay your bills every month. A little bit of anxiety might move you to save for retirement. A little bit of anxious restlessness intrinsic in the retirement years might prompt you to get out and volunteer in the hospitals or with a non-profit or perhaps within the church. Anxiety might provoke you to write a letter to an elected official or to take a casserole to a friend home from the hospital. Anxiety might even inspire you to write a poem or paint a picture.

What will you do with Eden’s Dark Secret within you? You can choose; every single moment you can choose. Will your anxiety be the source of destructive or creative pursuits?

Augustine knew Eden’s Dark Secret, and it prompted him to create a prayer that Christians have uttered through the centuries, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.”[4]

Thanks be to God that rest can be found! The scriptures are chock full of God’s promises of freedom from anxiety:
From the Old Testament: “He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.” (Psalm 23:2b-3a)
From the New Testament: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

In fact, one of the most oft-repeated directives in the Bible, particularly in the Gospels, is three simple words: “Do not fear.”

When the Angel Gabriel told Mary that she was going to have a son, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Luke 1:30)
When the angel appeared to Joseph in a dream, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Matthew 1:20)
When the angel appeared to shepherds watching over their flocks by night, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Luke 2:10)
When Jesus walked on the water toward a group of terrified disciples, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Matthew 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 6:20)
When the angel saw the women standing at an empty tomb, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Matthew 28:5)
When the Risen Lord met those same women on the road, what did he say?

DO NOT FEAR! (Matthew 28:10)

Eden has a secret, but it just doesn’t matter. The perfect love of God casts out all fear! No matter what fears or anxieties we carry, we can place them in the arms of God and there find rest. Control is an illusion; God’s love is real. Be still and know. Amen.

[1] Walter Bruggemann. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Volume 1.
[2] Reinhold Niebuhr. The Nature and Destiny of Man: A Christian Interpretation . Louisville: Westminster Charles Knox.
[3] I discovered Niebuhr’s thoughts from a sermon titled “Snake Bite” by Rev. Sheila Gustafson, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, Santa Fe, NM.
[4] Augustine. Confessions, Book 1, Chapter 1.

A Gift to Remember (Year A-Christmas Eve)

Text: Luke 2:1-20

I’ve just received word that Santa has been spotted flying over the Smoky Mountains heading our direction! Word has it that Santa is thinking of retiring here in Tellico Village. That’s all we need around here. . .another Northerner!

I don’t know if he’ll retire here or not, but I do know that he’s bringing lots of goodies for all the good little boys and girls here in the Village. I have to confess, I’m not sure if I’m on his “nice” list. My entire life the whole “naughty/nice” thing has haunted me. I’m never quite sure just on which list I belong. Seriously, I remember as a little kid thinking about how “bad” I’d been and so worried I’d end up on the “naughty” list. I vividly remember bowing on my knees in my living room and praying fervently to Santa, confessing my sin, and asking him to forgive me and bring me presents. I guess in my child’s mind, I confused God and Santa. But then Santa “sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness sake!” The omniscient Santa certainly has some god-like qualities, doesn’t he? What the song doesn’t tell us is that Santa is very forgiving, much like God. When I was a child, Santa was more real to me than God because Santa left me presents under my tree. And Barbie dolls and Legos were way more fun back then than the things God gives. Peace? Joy? Who cares about that stuff! I want a chia pet!

Now I’m all grown up. And though I’d still like that Chia pet, I’d much rather open up a big box of hope on Christmas day than anything Santa could bring me. This I know to be true: the greatest gift we can ever give someone else cannot be put under a tree.
Mary knew this some 2,000 years ago.

The best gift that Mary and Joseph received that very first Christmas was the birth of their son, Jesus. At first it seems from scriptures, it was just the three of them. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus sharing some intimate time together. But later on, the scriptures tell us, they had two sets of visitors. Some of those visitors brought presents, and some did not.

The gospel of Matthew tells us about the visit from the Magi. There were very wealthy travelers who came a great distance following a bright star. And when they found Mary and baby Jesus, they had a little baby shower. They presented gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. They were expensive gifts, but not exactly age-appropriate! These “wise” men must not have had any kids of their own! However, the gifts were incredibly expensive and elegant. Listen to what the gospel of Matthew says about these gifts, and pay particular attention to how Mary responded to such elaborate presents:
Matt. 2:11-12 “And they came into the house and saw the Child with Mary His mother; and they fell down and worshipped Him; and opening their treasures they presented to Him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. And having been warned by God in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their own country by another way.”

Did you hear it? Did you hear how Mary was amazed by these gifts and how she thanked them and how these gifts meant so much to her? Nope. The scriptures tell us nothing of how Mary responded to these amazing gifts. Perhaps they were meaningful to her, we just don’t know. The scriptures are silent.

However, we do know Mary’s response when the shepherds showed up empty-handed according to the Gospel of Luke.

Those shepherds left their fields to visit the newborn Christ child. They came on a whim; their journey was fairly short. And where were their manners? Emily Post would have been appalled. They showed up without presents! Who shows up to visit a newborn without a blanket or a sleeper or some frankincense or something? These guys were ruffians! The only thing they had to offer to the new mother was some words from an angel telling her that her baby would grow up to be an extraordinary man. The scriptures are silent about Mary’s response to the elaborate gifts from the Magi. But about this gift from the shepherds, this meager gift of words, the scripture says, “Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

She TREASURED the shepherds’ meager gift of words. We don’t know what became of the gold and frankincense and myrrh, but we know this gift, this spoken gift, given to her by a bunch of ruffians, was kept. . .treasured. . . in Mary’s heart her whole life through. It was a gift of hope and promise. It was a gift that Mary cherished and clung to. . .mere words. . .something you can’t wrap and put under a tree.

One of my dear friends has a little girl named Kaleigh. A couple of Christmases ago, when Kaleigh was about four, someone was asking her if she was excited about Christmas and Santa coming. Of course, she indicated that she was very excited. The person then said to young Kaleigh, “So what are you going to leave for Santa Claus when he comes to your house?” Kaleigh thought for a moment, and she said, “Well I guess we’ll leave him a check!”
Our rampant consumerism starts early, doesn’t it? Even Santa can be bought! It’s really hard not to get wrapped up in it, because if you’re like me, you genuinely want to please the people on your Christmas list. So we buy lots of stuff, hoping to please the ones we love, and then we see that stuff in the church yard sale the next spring.

I read a story about a fellow named Mike who detested this aspect of Christmas. . .the commercialism and overspending. His deep hatred of Christmas consumerism made it pretty difficult to shop for him at Christmas! So his wife labored to find a Christmas gift for Mike. . .she knew it would have to be something truly unique. She found her inspiration when their 12-year-old son was in a wrestling competition against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. The kids on the other team were from low-income families, and wore ragged sneakers held together by shoestrings. Their son’s team, on the other hand, wore spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, the husband and wife couldn’t believe the other team had no protective headgear, a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.

It ended up being not much of a competition. The inner city kids were stomped by the sparkly blue and gold team. They lost every match. Mike turned to his wife, shook his head sadly, and said, "I wish just one of them could have won. They have potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."

That was the moment Mike’s wife knew what she would do for his Christmas gift. She went that afternoon to a sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. Then on Christmas Eve, she placed an envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what she had done and that this was his gift from her. Mike’s smile was the brightest thing about Christmas! Then it became a tradition, every Christmas Mike would find an envelope on the tree and would learn that his wife had sent a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, or that she had sent a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned. Every year, that envelope was the highlight of Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and their three children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew up and became adults, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its wonder.
The Christmas after Mike died, his grieving wife decided to continue their family tradition, so she sadly placed another envelope on the tree on Christmas Eve. When she got up on Christmas morning, she went into her living room and saw the tree, and she fell speechless. There on the tree was the envelope she had placed there for Mike, along with three other envelopes. Each of their children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

What a meaningful way to honor their father.

My husband and I were talking about the idea of meaningful gifts, and we tried to remember really special gifts we received as children. Out of all the hundreds of presents we must have opened on Christmas day where we were children, we each could remember maybe one or two. We agreed that what we treasured more than anything we opened on Christmas morning were words spoken out of love to us throughout the year from parents and grandparents and teachers. “You’re such a great kid. I love spending time with you.” “I’m proud of you, son.” “I love you no matter what.”

Now, my son isn’t old enough to talk let alone buy a present for me. But one day, several years from now, I hope I’ve done a good enough job as his mother for him to say to me, “You’re such a great person. I love spending time with you.” “I’m proud of you, mom.” Or maybe he’ll give me a gift I’ll always treasure and he’ll say to me “I love you no matter what.”

It was over 2,000 years ago when some shepherds gave Mary the simple gift of hope through some kindly spoken words. She received pricier and fancier gifts, but it was the shepherds’ words she held close to her heart and remembered all of her days. More than likely a year or two from now, the people you love won’t recall what you wrapped up for them and placed under the Christmas tree this year. So give them something they can remember. Give them hope. Give them love. Give them yourself. That’s the gift they’ll always remember.

Desperate for Bethlehem (Year A-First Sunday after Christmas)

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on December 30, 2007, click here.

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

A few years ago when I was living in Athens, Georgia, I had been out of town for a friend’s funeral hundreds of miles away. I found myself driving back, exhausted from my trip and from the hours alone behind the wheel; I was eager to get back and sleep in my own bed. It was getting pretty late, almost midnight. I was on a stretch of highway between Atlanta and Athens that was undeveloped, with only one or two gas stations, when I saw a bright light shining in the darkness. It said, “Low fuel.” I knew I needed to stop at the first gas station I saw or spend my night stranded on the side of the road.

About then my cell phone rang. It was a friend calling to keep me company on my long trip home, so we began to talk and I got engrossed in conversation. When we hung up, I realized I had missed my gas station! My gas gauge was well below empty. . . lower than it had ever been. I was definitely in trouble.

I knew that my only hope of filling my tank. . .my only hope of not being stranded in the middle of the night on the side of the road. . .was a gas station in the little town of Bethlehem.
Bethlehem, Georgia is a little nowhere town between Atlanta and Athens. The only reason you’d ever go there would be to have your Christmas cards postmarked, “Bethlehem.” Having little use for such frivolity, the greatest thing to me about Bethlehem in my Georgia days was that strategically placed gas station which had been my salvation more than once. Bethlehem had the only gas for miles on that stretch of highway between Atlanta and Athens. That night I was beside myself, worried that I would break down before reaching that gas station at the Bethlehem exit.

I continued to chug along. I turned off my heat and my radio (I don’t know if that really helps, but hey. . .people do stupid stuff when they’re desperate!). Then to my surprise, there stood a BP I had never noticed. I whirled into the station and up to the pumps. I noticed it was pretty dark; no attendant in sight. I swiped my debit card. Nothing. Swipe. Nothing. Another hopeful swipe. Nothing. It was closed. Now, I was definitely Desperate for Bethlehem.

Today in our scripture text, we encounter some other folks who seemed Desperate for Bethlehem. We read the story of the wise men or “Magi” only in the book of Matthew, but this strange visit has been the stuff of lore for over 2,000 years now. Those who study such things suggest that these wise men were from the country we now know as Iran. They were likely astrologers who saw a star and set out probably on foot for a three month journey to MAYBE find the new JEWISH king. Then IF they found him, they would have to walk another three months home. And this was no easy walk. It was desert most of the way. They had no assurance they would find the child. Their journey was difficult, it was risky, and it was undoubtedly expensive. But perhaps we can learn from this strange tale of Iranian astrologers spending half a year to catch a glimpse of a Jewish infant. Maybe their journey can inform our own quest to see the Christ.

Lesson #1: Ask for Directions
The wise men weren’t afraid to ask for directions, nor should we be. In our scripture lesson, we find the Magi asking “Where is he who has been born King of the Jews?” We need people to point the way from time to time, but we’re often too stubborn, too independent to take directions from someone else.

I have some dear friends who were teaching their then four-year-old daughter, Kaleigh, to memorize scripture. So one night before bed, they were introducing Philippians 4:13 to her, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” So very slowly they began to read to her, “I can do all things. . .” at which point Kaleigh popped in, “BY MYSELF!”
Like Kaleigh, we like to imagine we can do this Christ quest alone, but the truth is we need each other.

Lesson #2: Expect Adversity
Like Herod and the city of Jerusalem, people might get upset by your Christ quest. The text says that “when Herod the King heard it, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” Genuine faith challenges the status quo. Genuine faith is lonely, because no one can share the journey designed for you. Your parents can’t share your journey, your spouse can’t share your journey, your children can’t share your journey. The best we can hope for in this quest is to have moments of spiritual union with another person. Edzard Schaper, in a little tale called The Legend of the Fourth King, wrote, “. . .those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel alone.”

Lesson #3: Look High/Look Low
Christ can be found in unusual places if you have eyes to see. The wise men used astrology and they asked directions from an evil man, the man who wanted the baby Jesus dead. What strange tools to use to find Christ! They followed what light they had and found themselves at the feet of Jesus.

When I was a campus minister in Georgia, I befriended a student who had been raised in the Catholic tradition. She had become involved in an Evangelical Christian group on campus, and her friends in the evangelical group were telling her that because she had never said “the sinner’s prayer,” that she was not saved and would not go to heaven. Well I knew this student. I knew her faith. I saw her deep love of Christ demonstrated every day. She was obviously a committed follower of Christ. I did my best to help her understand that her path to Christ was different than that of her friends. . .different but not wrong.

We should learn from the Magi. . .Christ is not playing hide and go seek with us; there is no magical phrase we must recite in order to get into heaven. Christ can be found in unusual places. Seek and he will be found.

Lesson #4: Allow Room for Error
The Magi found Christ despite their own ignorance! We call these men “wise” and I’m sure they were. But you and I know something they didn’t know. You and I know that the earth is round, and that earth is not the center of the universe. You and I know that stars rise in the East because of the earth’s rotation. They imagined the star they followed was moving across the sky, when in fact, it was the earth moving, causing the appearance of a spectacular star in the east which “moved” across the sky. Despite their scientific ignorance, they managed to find Christ anyway! There is room for stupidity in the Christ quest. . .thanks be to God!

I don’t remember a lot of what I learned in seminary, but I do remember one piece of advice a favorite professor offered. It was this: “Dare to think you’re wrong.” Our ideas about God are incomplete at best, and incredulous at worst. Yet in spite of ourselves, God loves us, and God can be found.

Lesson #5: Never Give Up
Christ was probably about 2-years-old when the wise men finally arrived. We can learn from this that it is never too late to begin the journey to Christ. Maybe you’ve spent your whole life working hard in your career or raising kids, and perhaps you’ve only recently had time to reflect on eternal things. There’s good news is that it is never too late to surrender to the hunger within driving you to want to know your Creator.

The Babouscka
I want to tell you a beautiful story. Most of us grew up with Santa Claus, but had we been raised in Russia we would have grown up with the Babouscka. Instead of trying to catch a peep of Santa coming down the chimney, we would watch out the windows to catch a glimpse of the Babouscka hobbling by in a hurry. The story goes something like this:
In the land of Russia, on the night the Christ child was born, an old woman sat alone in her little cottage, gazing into the flames that danced on her hearth. Outside, the shrill, cold winds of winter howled dismally. Snow was blanketing the earth in a white carpet, and the ice-covered branches of the trees crackled in the wind. The old woman was glad that she had a fire, and that she could sleep warm in her snug little bed, that she did not have to go out into the cold.

Suddenly came a rap on her door, and when she opened it, three stately old men entered her cottage. They had flowing white beards, wore kingly robes and carried expensively wrapped packages.

“We have traveled far, Babouscka,” they said, “and we stop to tell you of the Baby Prince who has been born this night in Bethlehem. He comes to rule the world and to teach all men and women to be loving and true. We carry Him gifts. Come with us, Babouscka!”
But she shrank back as she heard the storm beating mercilessly upon her little cottage, and would not leaver her cozy room. So the old men journeyed on alone through the snow and the wind and the cold. Babouscka could not sleep that night for thinking of what the men had told her, and of the wonderful opportunity they had offered her to see the Prince. At last she decided that, when the dawn came, she would set out alone to find the Babe, and perhaps on the way she would come upon the old men.

In the morning she put on her heavy cloak, took up her staff, filled a basket with gold balls, wooden toys, brilliant trinkets, and set out to find the Christ child. But she had forgotten to ask the three old men the way to Bethlehem, and they had journeyed so far through the night that she could not overtake them.

Up and down the roads she hurried, through woods and fields and towns, saying to all whom she met, “I go to find the Christ child. Where does he lie? I bring him some pretty toys.” But no one could tell her the way. Each one shook his head and said, “Farther on Babouscka, farther on!”

In Russia they say that she is still traveling, and that, on Christmas Eve, when children are fast asleep, she comes softly through snowy fields and towns, wrapped in a cloak and carrying a basket. Steadily she enters each house and holds a candle close to the little children’s faces. “Is he here?” she whispers. “Is the little Christ child here?” Then she shakes her head and turns away sorrowfully, sighing, “Farther on Babouscka, farther on!” But she leaves a toy from her basket for each sleeping little one—“For His sake,” she whispers, and hurries on through the night. And the next morning, on Christmas day, when the children awake, wonderful toys appear in their beds. “Be happy,” the children are told, “Babouscka must have been here while you slept.”

The Magi and the Babouscka have something in common: they all were Desperate for Bethlehem. We share in their yearning. But you and I live somewhere between the Magi and the Babouska, for like the Magi, we have found the Savior of the world, yet like the Babouscka, we continue searching for Him every single day. That is the amazing paradox of this life of faith. . .living in the land of the “almost nearly but not quite hardly.”

At the dawn of this New Year, may you continue on your own personal Christ quest, clinging to the promise that those who seek will find Him. May your hunger to catch a glimpse of the Christ child burn strong within you, and keep you Desperate for Bethlehem.

You know that night I was driving from Atlanta to Athens terrified I was going to run out of gas? I made it to Bethlehem. And so will you.

God Became a Lil' Baby-A Service of Remembrance & Hope

Text: John 1:1-14

We gather together tonight for “A Service of Remembrance and Hope.” Chances are you’re here because you’re a member of a club you’d rather not belong to, perhaps the “widow’s” club, or the “grief” club. Maybe you’re a member of the “depression” club or some other club you’d rather not be in. Like a lot of you, I’m in the “orphan” club. My father died seven years ago now. I remember that first Christmas after he died; I would have rather skipped Christmas altogether, but Christmas, like the child playing hide and seek, says, “Ready or not, here I come.” So here we are, forced to play along with Christmas, knowing that nothing under the tree can satisfy.

What does one say at “A Service of Remembrance and Hope?” How do you find words that might inch someone, anyone, closer to healing. . .closer to hope. . .closer to God? As I was pondering these things, I realized that this service is no different than any Sunday morning or Wednesday night we have here at church. Church should always be about hope!

So what’s different about this service? What makes this service special, unique and hopefully meaningful? It’s Honesty. Raw, unadulterated, “here I am, warts and all” honesty. If you’re feeling vulnerable, I guarantee you’re not alone.

Too many times when we come to church we don our “Sunday best” pretending to others and maybe even ourselves that we’ve got it all together. We get tidied up and try to leave the messiness of our lives at home, hidden in that closet no guest would ever see.

But tonight, we’ve brought our messiness with us and we’re wearing it for the world to see. Each of us, by our very presence here tonight, is admitting to God, each other, and ourselves, “I have been wounded, and I could use a little hope.” You’ve shown great bravery, coming here tonight. But then I suppose this is a better way to cope than punching that jolly department store Santa in his ho-ho-ho.

For the next few moments, I invite you and your messiness to remember the night some 2,000 years ago when “The word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Translated: God Became a Lil’ Baby. The Jesus of Christmas is a little bitty baby. What part could this little baby possibly play in bringing healing and hope into our lives? As Carl Burke said on Sunday, “Who cares?” Who cares about an infant born in a barn in the Middle East some 2,000 years ago?
New parents receive lots of advice. One of the common pieces of advice given to new parents is this, “It’s not that hard. A baby basically does three or four things. . .” They cry, they sleep, they eat and (how do you say this in a gentile way?) they make messes.

What can we learn from the babe lying in a manger? For starters, we can learn that messiness is OK. It’s just part of life. Any new parent knows that babies are messy! Dirty diapers. . .spit ups. We tend to forget that when “the word became flesh and dwelt among us,” he did so as a baby who needed constant diaper changes. The Savior of the world was not immune to mess. Jesus understands our helplessness. He understands that our lives are messy, because his was too.

Babies make messes, and babies eat. All the time. Jesus, the tiny baby of Christmas, most certainly woke up in the middle of the night needing to be fed. We can learn from the newborn Jesus that sometimes we need to be fed. We can take this literally and think about food and nutrition and that is certainly important. But more than that, emotional wounds need nourishment of a different kind. When we are wounded, we need time to heal. But too often we’re hard on ourselves, and the voices within tell us to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and stop being a “baby.” Emotional wounds need emotional nourishment. Learn from the Christmas infant; find those things that feed your soul and feast on those things.

Another thing babies do is cry. We can be certain, that if Jesus was a baby, he used the same communication tool every healthy human baby has used throughout the ages to tell Mama his needs. Baby Jesus wept, and so do we. I like to imagine that God cries when his children cry out of deep pain. There’s a lot of bad theology out there when it comes to our human pain. I like what Donna Sinclair says about God’s role in our suffering: “God does not send suffering as a way of strengthening us, or testing us, or making sure we will look forward to heaven. God does not send suffering at all. God is simply with us when we are in pain.” (From A Woman’s Book of Days)

The scripture says “his name will be called Immanuel—which means ‘God with us.’” During this Advent and Christmas season, we can imagine the Jesus of Christmas, Baby Immanuel; we can hear him crying and know that God weeps with us.

Well thank the good Lord that, after the messes, the feedings, and the crying, babies eventually fall asleep. There’s nothing more peaceful than a baby sleeping. I have a seven-month-old, and every night before I go to bed, I slip into his room just to watch him sleeping. I imagine every new parent does this. It’s a thing of beauty. So peaceful. We can imagine the baby Jesus being rocked in Mary’s arms falling into one of those sleeps. Deep sleep. Deep peace. The babe of Christmas joins us in our messiness, needs to be fed just like we do, and cries alongside us. But the babe of Christmas shows us that despite all the stuff life heaps on us, peace can be found. “Sleep in Heavenly Peace” the song says. Baby Immanuel, God with us, lights the way to hope and peace.

If all babies did was make messes, eat, cry and sleep, I don’t think too many folks would sign up for parenthood. However, we haven’t mentioned the greatest thing about babies. There’s something wonderful, almost magical about babies. A baby can make the most serious macho man act like a complete goofball! A baby is hope incarnate! When a new baby arrives in the family, imaginations run wild thinking what that baby might become. There’s something about a baby that draws us into the Source of all of life.

There’s a story, supposedly true, that begins when a couple brings home their second child after birth and receives a surprising request from their first child. This couple has a three year old already, a girl, and shortly after their newborn arrives home she asks if she can have some private time with her new sibling. The parents think that maybe the three year old isn’t quite ready to be alone with baby boy, and maybe she has some “terrible threes” pecking order to impose, so they try to put off the event, but she asks again and again, and so they set up a place where the two can be together. There were limits to their trust, so they decided to have daddy hide in the closet, and then mommy took a blanket into the room and laid the baby there on its back, inviting the three year old to sit on the blanket for some time together. Mommy left the room, but daddy was nearby.

As the father peeked through the closet door he saw his daughter bend down low next to her brother, as if to whisper in his ear. He still wondered what was up. But as he watched his daughter lean in close he heard her say this to the baby: “Tell me about God; I’m starting to forget.”

I don’t know if that story is true or not, but something inside of me tells me it just might be. Something inside me knows that a baby is somehow just one breath away from God. That if a baby could speak, he could tell us all about heaven and all about God.

There’s something magical about that baby born 2,000 years ago in a manger. . .that baby who was called Immanuel, “God with us.” The story of Christmas reminds us of a powerful truth: that indeed, God is with us. In our grief, in our loss, in our very humanity. . .we can have hope because the Jesus of Christmas reveals to us “God is here. God cares. God walks alongside us in times of joy and in times of grief. God is with us! God is with us! God is with us!”

When the Walls Come Down (Year C-Pentecost 25-Proper 28)

Text: Luke 21:5-19

Back in the days of my youth, there were no bigger, no deeper, no thicker, and no more glorious snowfalls than the ones that fell on my East Tennessee home. In the evenings, as the snow would fall, I would sit at my window and watch with eager anticipation and desperate hope that the greatest thing known to mankind would happen the next day. . .school would be cancelled! My buddy, Todd McGhee, and I would call each other up and make our plans to round up all the neighborhood kids for the world’s largest snowball fight.

So one winter, the first snow started falling, and Todd and I were especially excited because some new kids had moved into the neighborhood. We were certain that this would be the greatest snowball fight ever!

So when morning finally came, shouts were heard across the neighborhood, yea, the whole universe, when one by one each kid found out that school was cancelled. It took our mothers forever getting us bundled up enough for the harsh Tennessee conditions, but finally we were out the door. So me and Todd McGhee rounded up the troops, and declared that this year’s fight would be boys versus girls, a battle for the ages!

Each team was given time to make battle preparations. So with great vim and vigor the other girls and I built a spectacular fort of snow, taking great care that it was tall enough and wide enough that all of us could find safety behind it. What a fort it was! We created an arsenal of snow balls to last through several winters; there was no possible way the stinky boys could win!

Then 3—2—1 Snowball Fight! We girls would launch our snowballs and quickly hunker behind the safety of our fort. What fun! But before long, those stinky boys broke the rules. They came running to our side, kicked down our snow fort and pelted us with buckets of. . .not snow balls. . .but ICE balls. The jerks had a water hose behind their fort and made their harmless snowballs into lethal weapons. Have you ever been attacked with balls of ice? It hurts! The stinky boys had won, and it would be several weeks before me and Todd McGhee would talk again.

So much for our incredible fort. Our faith in the world’s greatest snow fort was all for naught against the snow boots of bullies.

In our gospel lesson today, Jesus, standing in the middle of the glorious temple in Jerusalem, tells a gathering of listeners that the wondrous structure surrounding them would be destroyed; “there will not be left one stone upon another which will not be torn down.”

Wouldn’t it be fun to be able to step back in time and be a witness to some of what we read about Jesus? I would have loved to have seen the look on the lepers’ faces when they were healed. I would have loved to have been there when John baptized Jesus in the River Jordan and God’s voice was heard, “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.” I would have really loved to have been there when Jesus turned the water into wine. But I would also have enjoyed seeing the looks on peoples’ faces when, standing right there in the temple, Jesus said (paraphrased), “You see all this? These walls are going to come crumbling down.” He knew how to get their attention.

To these folks, the temple was more than just an architectural wonder with great stone pillars and precious stones and gifts of gold. The temple was symbolic of the entire Jewish way of life. They believed that the very presence of God resided inside the temple walls. It was the center of religion and government all rolled into one magnificent building.

It’s a little hard for us to relate. When terrorists planned the attack on America in 2001 they, by no coincidence, set their sights on three targets, three symbols of the American way of life: the world trade center, a towering symbol of the US economy, the Pentagon, a massive symbol of US military strength, and it is thought the fourth plane was heading to the White House, the inspiring symbol of our government and our democracy. We have no one structure representing all that America stands for, but the Jews of Jesus day did. . .they had their temple. And a marvelous temple it was. But Jesus said it was coming down.

It wasn’t a nice thing for Jesus to say. Most of us, like the character in the movie, Talladega Nights, prefer the baby Jesus, sweetly cooing in a manger. This gloom and doom Jesus isn’t the “good news” Jesus we learn about in Sunday school. Yet there is a difficult, but valuable lesson for us: we are not exempt from hardship. The Christian life has no “get out of jail free” card. Jesus said (paraphrased), “Your temple, your hope, your very way of life will be destroyed.”

What do we do when the walls of our lives begin to tumble down around us?

A few years ago I took a team of volunteers down to the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina ravaged the coastline. We were among the thousands of Christians and others who went down to help our brothers and sisters after the storm. We went down a month or so after the storm, and our job was cleaning out houses that had been damaged by flood waters.

In teams of 10-12, we would walk into a home with sledge hammers and crow bars and wheelbarrows and carry out to the street everything that was ruined: furniture, flooring, and personal items. By far the hardest physical part of the job was ripping out the damaged dry wall, and then we would spray the mold growing inside the walls. We were literally a wrecking crew.

I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard in my entire life. It was incredibly hot, we had to wear masks because of the mold, and it was emotionally difficult, too, helping families who had lost so much in the storm. Yet we knew that ripping down these walls was what these new friends needed before they could rebuild their homes and their lives. Until we met Mary*. When we, the wrecking crew, showed up with sledge hammers and crow bars in hand, Mary was not glad to see us. “You’re going to rip out my walls, and I have no way to rebuild. Go away with your crowbars and sledge hammers. I’ve been through too much already.”

Mary knew cognitively, that in order to get to a place where she could begin to rebuild, that more tearing down, more destruction, was needed. But emotionally, she just couldn’t handle any more “walls” crumbling down around her.

The coordinator we were working under assured her that just as he was bringing in the wrecking crew, that he would, in time, bring her a building crew. And so we tore down Mary’s walls.

A few months later, some of the same volunteers and I were working together on another project, similar to a Habitat for Humanity build, except this was a blitz build, and we were building the house in just one week.

Towards the end of the week I was taking a break with one of the folks I had served alongside after Katrina, and we were talking about the emotional difference we felt BUILDING walls as opposed to TEARING DOWN walls like we did on the Gulf coast. Both projects were physically exhausting, but tearing down the walls along the coast took a real emotional toll on us, and we couldn’t even imagine how devastated Mary and other residents felt.

What do we do when the walls of our lives begin to tumble down around us?

We must hope! We must believe that there is a better day ahead! Mary needed to believe that she could rebuild before she would let us, the wrecking crew, in. She needed to hope in her future before she could take the first step toward rebuilding her house and her life. We humans are pretty resilient creatures. We can face nearly anything as long as we have hope in tomorrow!

A few years ago I heard a story about a soldier named Major James Nesbeth. Major Nesbeth lived seven years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam. During those long years, he was imprisoned in a cell that was roughly four and one-half feet high and five feet long. Nearly the entire time he was held, he saw nobody, talked to nobody and experienced zero physical activity. In order to remain sane, he dreamed of the day when he could once again be back on his favorite golf course. Then, to keep his mind active, he engaged the art of visualization.

Everyday in his mind, he would play a game of golf. A full 18-hole game at his favorite course. In his mind, he would create the trees, the smell of the freshly trimmed grass, the wind, the songs of the birds. He created different weather conditions – windy spring days, overcast winter days and sunny summer mornings. He felt the grip of the club in his hands as he played his shots in his mind. The set-up, the down-swing and the follow-through on each shot. He would watch the ball arc down the fairway and land at the exact spot he had selected. All in his mind.

He did this seven days a week. Four hours a day. Eighteen holes. Seven long years. When Major Nesbeth was finally released, and he realized his dream of being on that course, he discovered that he had cut 20 strokes off his golfing average without having touched a golf club in seven years.

From what I hear about how some of you play, maybe you could use some time in a POW camp!

20 strokes off of his average without touching a club for seven years. That’s what hope can do!

Jesus said (paraphrased), “The walls are going to come crumbling down. It’s a fact.” But then he says later in the passage “do not fear” (v. 9) and “by your endurance you will gain your lives.” (v. 19) Reality and hard, cold fact followed by hope. Our commitment to the Lord Jesus Christ doesn’t remove us from the human condition, but faith does, however, give us the antidote to the disease called “despair.”

Most of us, at some point in time or another, will have the walls around us come crashing down. Those things in which rest our hopes and dreams will fail us. But, when our walls come crumbling down around us Jesus says to us “Do not fear, by your endurance you will gain life.” And when those dark days come, we must hold on to any glimmer of light we see believing that though we endure the darkness now, new life waits for us around the corner. It may be a different life, but a life that is ours to create.

Hear this message of hope. On this Thanksgiving Sunday, let us give thanks to God for giving us the remedy for despair. My prayer for each of you is that you’ll remember that when the walls come tumbling around you, you need not fear. By your endurance you will gain life.