Preaching Hope

Knit Together (Year B-Pentecost 9)

2010-08-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

To listen to this message as delivered to the
Tellico Village Community Church on August 2, 2009, click here.

Text: Ephesians 4:1-16

It’s been busy around the church this week as we’ve been settling into our new offices. Among the 1,000 little things accomplished as a part of the move, I had a light bulb replaced in my office, calling to mind one of my favorite church jokes:

-How many Baptists does it take to change a light bulb? At least 15. One to change the light bulb, and three committees to approve the change.

-Episcopalians? Eight. One to call the electrician, and seven to say how much they liked the old one better.

-Unitarians? We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that light bulbs work for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your personal relationship with your light bulb, and present it at our annual light bulb service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.

-Charismatics? One, since his hands are in the air anyway.

-Methodists? Undetermined. Whether your light is bright, dull, or completely out, you are loved -- you can be a light bulb, turnip bulb, or tulip bulb. Church wide lighting service will be next week. Bring a bulb of your choice and a covered dish.

-Presbyterians? None. Lights will go on and off at predestined times.

-Lutherans? CHANGE?????

-Interdenominationalists? None. We don’t want to make the bulb feel unwanted or uncomfortable.

It’s good to laugh at ourselves sometimes and make light our differences. Here at our interdenominational church, we have people from all of those traditions and more. I thank God for that seminary professor who helped me appreciate all denominations and made a convincing argument that each denomination has its specific job to do within Christendom. The Kingdom of God is so deep, so long, so high and so wide that we need each denomination that all of God’s children might have a home. The challenge, however, in an interdenominational church and within the church universal, is to find unity in the midst of our diversity.

This challenge is as old as the church itself as we learned from our New Testament lesson this morning. Paul, writing to the church at Ephesus, uses a powerful metaphor in his call to congregational unity, saying that the church is, as one translation puts it, “knit together.” With this imagery, we can imagine God as a thoughtful knitter skillfully crafting a beautiful work of art—the church—God’s masterpiece.

When I first read the lectionary text, this phrase, “knit together,” grabbed my attention probably because of the recent launch of our prayer shawl ministry. Here’s one of the beautiful shawls created by the loving hands of someone in our church or community. The idea is simple. With every click of the needles as the shawl is being crafted, a prayer is lifted for the eventual recipient. When the shawl is finished, the artisan presents the shawl to the church and it is dedicated at WednesdayChurch! by simply passing the shawl around, each person lifting a silent prayer for its recipient.

The Apostle Paul compares the church to one of these shawls saying that like a shawl, the church is “knit together.” Consider the symbolism--the interconnectedness of each stitch--how, if you took out a pair of scissors and cut one stitch, it might unravel the whole piece. Every stitch is necessary to hold it together just like the work of every Christian is essential in order for the Church to accomplish her God-given mission: to gather up every person and wrap them up inside the warmth of God’s love. The first order of business in accomplishing God’s purpose “is the unity of the Church.” [1]

So Paul tells the church at Ephesus to “Grow up!” Because mature Christians value unity over personal preference. [2] “Grow up!” Paul says to the Ephesians, because mature Christians cherish harmony over personal triumph. [3]

I think this message is especially fitting for our church right now. It’s an exciting time, but an anxious time for us as we get ready to build. Growth and change are never easy. But from where I stand, we’re going to be OK. Here’s how I see it. When I joined your family a little less than two years ago, you had big decisions to make. Your little family had grown, your house was too small, but you still wanted to find a way to bring in new children. The family appointed some who knew about houses and construction to make their best recommendation, which they did. The family came together to learn about their proposal, and then the family voted. Some voted against it. More voted for it. And here we are today, less than a month away from breaking ground to build a major addition to our house.

Being fairly new to the family, I’ve mostly watched and listened as the family worked the process together. I’ve learned a lot about you—this is what I’ve discovered: you’re the kind of Christians Paul would like to have seen in Ephesus. Because, overwhelmingly, you’re the kind of people who value unity over personal preference. You’re the kind of Christians who cherish harmony over personal triumph. Some of you weren’t on the winning side of that vote last summer. But here you are anyway! Singing hymns of faith with joy in your heart. Serving on that committee. Working in the kitchen. Still using your God-given gifts to build up the church, gathering up every person and wrapping them up inside the warmth of God’s love.

You know why I know we’re going to be OK? Because in your maturity you’ve chosen unity over preference and harmony over triumph. This is the kind of church that can weather the storms of change. Why? Because you do it together! I love this church!

There’s another reason I know we’re going to be OK. It has to do with the other part of the equation that Paul gives the church at Ephesus. In addition to laying down individual preferences for the sake of the whole, Paul urges each Christian to use the gifts God has given. God gifts each of us for specific works of service. Without each stitch working properly, the whole fabric just might unravel. But when every “stitch” works together as it should, it’s a beautiful sight to behold.

Two months ago, our church lost a beloved soul named Barbara, a little red-head with lots of spirit and even more opinions. Barbara spent the final days of her life in a care facility. She couldn’t come to church, but she sure experienced church because the body of Christ stepped up! Every stitch pulled together around this frail life!

Lots of you gifted with friendship visited Barbara. Those of you gifted in prayer prayed for Barbara. In healthier days, some of you gifted in planning led fun day trips that Barbara enjoyed. Folks with cars gave Barbara rides. Some of you with the gift of generosity put money in the offering plate, and by doing so, you were right there with Pastor Tim and a precious Stephen Minister when they took communion to Barbara.

And when Barbara went home to be with the Lord, many of you, gifted with compassion, came to her funeral. Did you notice that someone with accounting skills had paid the electric bills? Someone crafted a beautiful program on a computer fixed by someone else earlier that week. Someone with the gift of service had straightened the pews. Someone who knows about sound systems turned on the microphones and someone gifted in music played the organ. A gifted speaker talked about her friendship with Barbara. A gifted organizer rounded up folks to bring cookies, and many of you proved your giftedness in the art of cookie baking! Someone with muscles set up tables and chairs. Someone with a compassionate smile stood at the guest book and welcomed those who loved Barbara into our church.

Every stitch pulled together and wrapped this frail life up inside the warmth of God’s love.
A few days after Barbara died Pastor Tim received an e-mail:

"Dear Tim, My name is Tom and I am a Hospice Chaplain. I recently had a patient who had a blanket made by some caring person in your congregation. She recently passed away, but that blanket meant a lot to her. I would like to say thank you to whoever was responsible for this kind gesture."

One person “knit together” that precious shawl, but it took a church to “knit together” the kind of loving farewell most of us can only hope for.

Church, we’ve got work to do! People like Barbara are all around us . . . people who need to know God’s love expressed in tangible ways. This is no time to rest! We’ve got a church to build! So let’s pull together and gather up every person and wrap them up inside the warmth of God’s love. Are you ready? Let’s go!
__________
[1] Rollin Russell, “Pastoral Reflection on Ephesians 4:1‐16,” http://www.nccouncilofchurches.org/Acts_of_Faith_Year_B/Part_2_Year_B/ecumenism_pastoral_reflection.pdf
[2] Paul V. Marshall, “Ephesians 4:1-16: Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 3. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009, p. 304.
[3] Jaime Clark-Soles, “Ephesians 4:1-16: Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 3. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009, p. 303

Hanging Around (Year B-Pentecost 10)

2010-08-05T11:43:00.000-07:00

To listen to this message as delivered to the
Tellico Village Community Church on August 9, 2002, click here.

Text: 2 Samuel 18:5-9

Thanks be to God for the word of the Lord! For Holy Scriptures that often inspire us, that frequently challenge us, and that sometimes even make us laugh out loud, as was the case for me when I read the Old Testament lectionary text for this week.

The main character in this story is Absalom, the third son of King David. Absalom was, in the words of Frederick Buechner, “the thorn in [David’s] flesh, but he was also the apple of his eye.” [1] The scripture tells us that he was the best-looking man in all of Israel from his long, thick, flowing hair all the way down to his French-pedicured toes. [2] The scripture goes so far as to tell us that once a year, when Absalom got a haircut, the trimmings alone weighed three and a half pounds! Not only was he easy on the eyes, but he had personality too. A hottie and a charmer! Lethal combination. And lethal it proved to be.

So lethal, in fact, that Absalom murdered his oldest brother, the first-born son of King David and first in line for the throne. Though this was done to avenge the rape of his sister, Absalom had to leave town for a few years. Eventually David welcomed him back into the fold, and Absalom got busy using his beauty and charm to steal the hearts of the Israelites. He rallied the people around himself and conspired to overthrow and kill his father. He levied such a following that King David was forced to flee from Jerusalem.

Eventually David mustered his remaining troops together against his son. He explicitly told his men to spare Absalom, the thorn of his flesh, but still the apple of his eye. Absalom’s army met defeat that day in a bloody battle that left 20,000 dead.

Picture Absalom riding away from battle that day, defeated but handsome as ever. Like Fabio riding gallantly along, his beautiful, thick, long hair flowing along behind him until—whoops! His luscious locks get snagged in an oak tree, yanking him (literally) off his ass. The mule laughs as he trots away with a much lighter load. And now we see the handsome Prince Absalom, just hanging around.

If you read further, you get the sense that Absalom hung there by his hair for quite a while . . . long enough for his enemies to ride by and notice, long enough for them to find their leader and debate his fate, long enough for them to ride back to Absalom.

In the meantime, there Absalom dangles. But one thing strikes me as odd. If there was one piece of equipment a soldier in those days would carry to the battlefield, what would it be? A sword! So the glaring question from the text today to me is, “Why didn’t Absalom take out his sword and cut himself down from that tree?”

Now we don’t know for sure, but it certainly seems like a lack of ingenuity or resourcefulness on Absalom’s part. It seems that Absalom had an absence of industriousness or creativity.
We all get stuck from time to time.

Like the time I got on the wrong ski lift. If you’re familiar with skiing, you know that slopes are ranked according to difficulty. Green slopes are the easy ones—the bunny slopes. Blue slopes are moderate. Black diamond slopes are the most difficult slopes that only the most advanced skiers should attempt. Me? I’m a great skier! So long as I stay on the bunny slopes!

When I got off of the lift that day, my friends and I realized that we had made a mistake. The only way down the mountain was the way of the black diamond. We made it half way down the mountain when we found ourselves in 6 feet of fresh powder. Have you ever tried to move in 6 feet of powder? Not easy. As we trudged through the snow, we took different paths and got separated, and suddenly I found myself alone. The path I chose was no path at all, rather, I ended up in a 30-foot snow drift, the only things I could see were trees and snow. The only thing I could hear was the wind whistling “Taps.” If you think it’s hard to move in six feet of powder, try 30! I could barely move. So I thought I’d try a different approach. I took off my skis. Mistake number two. I sunk even further into the snow. Now I really couldn’t move. I was stuck. Snow up to my chin, buzzards beginning to circle above me.

I remained there for quite a while, wondering if I might die there. And then I heard voices in the distance. Snowboarders! I started yelling, “Help!” A voice yelled back, “Are you hurt?” I answered with a hesitant, “Well, no.” The voice yelled back, “Then just walk out, dude!” Then I heard them go on their way.

I was irritated at first, thinking they should have immediately come to my aid. So I hung out in my snow bank a little longer, waiting for more voices. There were no more voices. So I did the only thing I could do and mustered every ounce of strength I could muster and inch by grueling inch I shoveled my way through the powder until I made my way out of the snow bank.

Others get stuck far worse than that! Perhaps you recall the story of Aron Ralston, the rock-climber who got his arm pinned underneath an 800-pound boulder a few years ago. He became the stuff of legends when he saved himself after six days of hanging around a rock face in Utah. He freed himself the only way possible—by using his pocketknife to amputate his own arm.
I trudged 100 miles through 700 feet of powder. Aron Ralston cut off his own arm. Prince Absalom couldn’t even cut off his hair.

“Why didn’t Absalom take out his sword and cut himself down from that tree?”

Maybe it was vanity.

Maybe his good looks were a curse . . . maybe he was so attached to his outward appearance that to lose his luscious locks would be a fate worse than death. Maybe vanity kept him from freeing himself from the grip of that oak tree.

Vanity can kill a person, you know. People can get so wrapped up in what others think about them that they let the gifts inside them die. The painter who never paints for fear that their painting isn’t perfect. The singer who never sings for fear that their song isn’t spectacular. The poet who never puts pen to paper for fear their poem isn’t profound.

Each and every one of us is made in the image of God, the scripture tells us. To be made in the image of God means that each of us harbors the capacity to be like our Creator and create! That creative capacity has gone dormant in far too many of us, however. We “grow up” and take on utilitarian roles, and our creative capacities get crowded underneath the deadlines and demands of practical living.

Julie Gammack describes how during her years as a newspaper columnist and entrepreneur, “the artist within was hibernating.” She said that retirement has been so liberating and freeing because she’s finally let go of the what-people-think syndrome. When Julie was in fifth grade, her art teacher singled her out for a scholarship to take classes at the local art center. She went on to take private lessons and considered studying at an art institute. She eventually decided against it, however, because she was advised that “art was something to do as a hobby, not a career.” Her gift remained latent for twenty years. Like so many of us, she allowed her gift to atrophy under the pressures of family and work. [3] But now, in retirement, she is able to stoke the fires of the gift burning inside her. Her artwork is in high demand in a niche market.
Back to our scripture lesson. “Why didn’t Absalom take out his sword and cut himself down from that tree?” Maybe it was vanity. Maybe our handsome prince had not let go of the “what-people-think” syndrome. Maybe his vanity impeded his ability to find a creative solution to his predicament. And still we see the handsome Prince Absalom, just hanging around.

I know some folks who are just hanging around. I know a quilt maker who hasn’t sewn a stitch in nearly 25 years. I know a poet who hasn’t written a verse in nearly 20 years. I know a woodworker who hasn’t turned a piece of cedar in nearly ten years. I know a songwriter who hasn’t written a song in nearly five years. Life has a way of crowding out our creative capacities underneath the deadlines and demands of practical living. However, the moments when we are most creative are the moments when we’re most living into our true nature as children born in the image of God.

I know some folks who are just hanging around, but I also know lots of folks who are taking out their swords and freeing themselves from the grip of death. I know lots of folks who are discovering that retirement, for instance, can open up doors of discovery, adventure, and creativity if one is willing to take a risk. I know a retiree who’s learning to play the guitar. I know another who’s recently written her first song. I know yet another who’s learning how to compost, using that skill to enhance her beautiful garden. I know someone who’s finally able to participate in theatre.

Some of you have the opportunity to explore the divine creative spark inside you like you’ve never had before! Seize this opportunity. Some of you, like me, are still faced with the demands of a career or still responsible for the care of some other soul. And for you, especially, I challenge you to let go of narrow definitions of creativity, ones that confine creativity to the realm of artists or children, because “creativity is so much more than art making. It’s a tool for navigating through everyday experiences to find the sacred in each God-given moment. Creativity does not die; it simply waits to be unearthed and set free.” [4]

Poor Prince Absalom never figured out how to get down from that tree. Maybe it was vanity. Maybe his vanity snuffed out any glimmer of creativity and industriousness that could have helped him escape his predicament. He saw “hanging around” as his only option, and that mistake led to his death. His enemies came back to that big oak tree. Absalom was easy prey. He died hanging there from that tree. But I think his spirit died long before that. He died the very moment he allowed vanity to kill his creativity. Poor Prince Absalom.

But not us! You won’t catch us just hanging around because we know that being like the Creator means that we are born to create! May each and every one of us find the courage to look and listen deeply, to find the divine creative spark within and release it into a world desperate for something authentic and fresh. Amen.

[1] Frederick Buechner, Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who.
[2] 2 Samuel 14:25.
[3] James A. Autry, The Spirit of Retirement: Creating a Life of Meaning and Personal Growth.
[4] Karla M. Kincannon, Creativity and Divine Surprise: Finding the Place of Your Resurrection.

The Building Blocks of Eternal Life: Gratitude (Year B-Pentecost 17)

2010-08-05T11:36:00.000-07:00

To listen to this message as delivered to the
Tellico Village Community Church on September 27, 2009, click here.

Text: Deuteronomy 26:1-11

I’ve got a news flash for you this morning: scientists have recently discovered that gratitude is an indispensable component of health, wholeness, and well-being [1]. Of course preachers and religious thinkers have known this for a long time! Why didn’t they just ask us?
These researchers have discovered that:

Those who kept gratitude journals reported fewer physical symptoms, felt better about their lives as a whole, and were more optimistic.
They reported lower levels of depression and stress.
Grateful people were rated as more empathetic, more generous, and more helpful to others.
Here’s some good news for you this morning: research shows that those who regularly attend religious services are more likely to be grateful!

So in light of the fact that gratitude is good for health, and church attendance increases one’s sense of gratitude, we’ve come up with a new church slogan . . . what do you think . . . “Come to Tellico Village Community Church! It’s good for your health!”

For the past few Sundays, Marty has had us thinking about the building blocks or basic elements of the eternal, abundant life that Christ promised. Today I want to add gratitude as a key ingredient in the recipe for the abundant life Christ promised to us.

It’s the central expression from our text today. Picture with me Moses standing on the banks of the Jordan River addressing the people in his final sermon before he hands the reigns over to Joshua. He’s telling them how to act . . . what kind of people they are to be once they cross the river and assume the land promised to them. He tells them that once they’ve settled, they are to bring an offering, and as each one brings his offering before the priest he is to recite a litany prescribed by Moses paraphrased like this, “I have arrived. I have come into the land promised to my forefathers. But I haven’t always been so blessed. You see, my father was a wandering Aramean . . .” Then Moses instructs them to tell the story of how they came out of a nomadic lifestyle into slavery in Egypt through forty years in the desert to bring them to the present in the land flowing with milk and honey. “I have arrived, but let me tell you how I got here,” Moses instructs them to say as they bring their offerings.

Why would Moses demand such a litany from the Israelites?

Because it is important to REMEMBER!

At WednesdayChurch! last week, I led folks through a prayer experience, prompting them to give thanks as they walked back through time remembering the different stages of their lives and all of the people that supported them along the way. I want to offer you the same opportunity.

So in a spirit of prayer, I invite to recall your very first days on earth. Who was there to feed you and clothe you and nurture you in those fragile first years? REMEMBER, and give thanks.

As you grew older, your world expanded. You started school. Maybe you went to Sunday school. Recall those teachers, those neighbors, those family members, those friends and mentors who taught you and loved you and supported you through the carefree days of childhood into adolescence. REMEMBER, and give thanks.

You became a young adult. Maybe you met someone special and got married. Maybe you were blessed with children. Maybe someone helped you get started in a meaningful career. Maybe you were proud to serve your country or perhaps you had the privilege of going to college. REMEMBER, and give thanks.

You grew up and moved to East Tennessee. What sustains you now? Who are the meaningful people? A job, investments, or a 401k? REMEMBER, and give thanks.

The first step towards becoming a person of gratitude is to REMEMBER. Chances are, you weren’t always as good-looking, as charming, as powerful, as wealthy, as respected as you are today! Once, you were a tiny baby completely dependent on another person for your very life. REMEMBERING brings with it certain humility, doesn’t it? REMEMBERING is prerequisite for gratitude.

Last week I took my vibrant two-and-a-half-year-old son to the pediatrician. She calculated that he will grow to be about 5’10”. I’m 5’2”. Eventually, my son will tower over me. Should he ever get cocky and try to intimidate his sweet mama, I’ll pull out the pictures from his premature arrival on earth. His frail, four-pound body with tubes and wires all over the place. Tender skin hanging on tiny little bones. I’ll show him those sad pictures and cause him to REMEMBER. I’ll say, “You may have arrived, son, but let me remind you how you got here!”

When we REMEMBER, we are humbled, because it is only by the grace of God that any of us are here now! It evokes humility, gratitude rises up in us and causes us to REJOICE!

Last week I attended a celebration dinner with the leaders and volunteers with the Good Neighbors Shoppe. Do you know they’ve recently marked the milestone of giving $500,000 to important causes in our community? What a remarkable story of how foreigners to East Tennessee like Gene and Roberta Burwell and many of you can come into a new land and REJOICE with your neighbors by becoming “Good Neighbors.” With every dollar the Good Neighbors Shoppe gives away it’s like every person who has ever volunteered there is saying, “God has been so good to me, and now I’m doing what I can to be a Good Neighbor!” 500,000 thanks be to God!

When we REMEMBER, it causes us to REJOICE.
When we REJOICE, it causes us to RETURN.

A life marked by gratitude has the natural by-product of generosity. Moses knew it in his sermon to the Israelites. He was no dummy. In his stewardship sermon he didn’t use guilt. He didn’t preach duty or obligation. He preached GRATITUDE.

REMEMBER . . . REJOICE . . . RETURN.

We RETURN thanks. We RETURN time and talents. We RETURN offerings of material goods that are not our own, for we would have nothing but for the grace of God. We don’t really give, we RETURN. We reciprocate. We repay. Why? Because we REMEMBER!

This week our church begins our annual stewardship drive called “Trails Through Tellico” in which each member is asked to prayerfully consider what financial contribution God is leading us to give to the church during the next year. Like many of you, my husband and I will seek God’s leadership in this important decision, and we’ll make our pledge. Can I be honest with you about this? It’s hard for me to get excited about pledging to a budget. It’s hard for me to pledge to an institution just so it can pay its bills. The good Lord knows I have a hard enough time paying my own bills!

But here’s what I can get excited about . . . I can get excited about lives being transformed in the name of Jesus Christ! I hear about these transformations nearly every day! Join me on a little journey to see how this church is transforming lives every day . . .
· Let’s go see Jennifer and young Sean now living in the Habitat Home we built alongside them.
· Let’s visit each of our scholarship recipients and find out what kind of transformation a college education is making in their lives.
· Let’s join our parish nurse as she goes in the middle of the night to administer morphine to someone dying of cancer.
· Let’s travel with our Kindred Spirits as they have a blast soaking up all the wonderful sights of East Tennessee.
· Let’s slip inside an AA meeting one Monday night in our CLC, and see how people are being freed from the power of addiction.
· Sit inside a pastor’s office as we council those dealing with difficult issues of life and faith.
· Join the missions team as they tally the thousands upon thousands of dollars given to local causes like the Good Samaritan Center and Good Shepherd Center, providing relief to people struggling with their very survival.
· Visit with one of our 25 active Stephen Ministers as they offer hugs and hope to someone who needs a healing touch.

There are so many important, life-changing ministries that flow out of our church there’s no way I could name them all in a manner that would allow you to beat the Baptists to lunch! What we do here makes a real difference in the world around us! That’s something that I can get excited about!

So as we get ready to launch our stewardship drive, I’m going to REMEMBER all that this church has done and is doing, and I’m going to give thanks and REJOICE! Then I’m going to RETURN some of the blessings God has given me to this church, and I’m going to take three steps to put my money where my mouth is:

1. I’m going to call our business office, and see how much more I need to give to meet my pledge for this year.
2. While I’m on the phone, I’m going to get set up on automatic withdrawal, because there’s absolutely nothing less spiritual about it, and it will cause my inconsistent giving to become consistent.
3. And when the pledge cards come around, my husband and I will increase our pledge by $200, which means I might have to give up one café mocha per week.

If every household would join my husband and me in adding $200 to our 2010 pledge, we’ll have an extra $127,000 to support the transformational ministries of this church. Our missions budget alone will have an additional $14,000! I wonder what they’ll do? Will they offer MORE scholarships? Will they sponsor ANOTHER Habitat House? Will they launch a new, transformational missions initiative? I can’t wait to find out!

It’s exciting to think about the possibilities when we REMEMBER God’s grace, when we REJOICE in grateful celebration, and when we RETURN just a small portion of the bounty God has given.

In the words of Winston Churchill, “We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.”

Now go and make a life for yourself! Amen.

[1] Robert Emmons & Richard McCullough, “Highlights from the Research Project on Gratitude and Thankfulness,” http://psychology.ucdavis.edu/labs/emmons/

Let Your Life Sing! (Year C-Advent 2)

2010-08-05T11:27:00.000-07:00

To listen to this message as delivered to the
Tellico Village Community Church on December 6, 2009, click here.

Text: Luke 1:57, 67-79

I don’t know much about my great-great grandfather. I know his name was William Lawson. I know he owned a beautiful piece of land in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, land passed down through the generations to my own family. I know that my great-great grandfather owned a country store, one of only three stores in the small community of Townsend, Tennessee. I know that he sold all manner of items at that store, from flour and meal to candy to one or two sample headstones for grave sites. I know that he let my grandmother sneak candy from his supply when she was a little girl, a secret her mother never discovered. And I know the story of Albert Peoples.

The year was roughly 1918. Albert Peoples was a young black man. He was free; slavery had been outlawed, but he lived long before the birth of Martin Luther King Jr., years before Rosa Parks, and decades before Brown vs. the Board of Education. Albert Peoples lived in the difficult days between slavery and Civil Rights, but at least he had a job building roads, which brought him to the small community of Townsend. The story goes that while Albert was working in Townsend, he got a little too close to another man’s girl, and he found himself with a bullet in his head. Shot with a rifle at close range. Murder in the first degree. But there was no trial. No conviction. No justice for a black man far from home in that day and time.

The next day, the foreman of Albert’s road crew went around asking local landowners if they would allow the young black man to be buried on their land. Prejudice ran high; no one would hear of such a thing. No one, that is, except William Lawson, my great-great grandfather. Apparently he had compassion on “Poor Albert.” He found a remote spot on the family land, and there Albert Peoples rests to this day. Grandpa Lawson even donated one of the sample headstones from his store, though it had a ladies’ name on it. When my grandmother was a little girl, she and her sister would go place flowers on “Poor Albert’s” grave every spring. And one of these days, I’ll take my little boy to visit the grave of Albert Peoples, and I’ll tell him the story about his great-great-great grandfather, who had compassion for a man when no one else would. You see, I don’t know much about my great-great grandfather, but I know he was a compassionate man.

We don’t know much about Zechariah, the central figure from our text today. We know he was a priest. We know he married a woman named Elizabeth. We know that both of them were card-carrying members of the AARP. We know that they were good folks, and that they had never been able to have children. We also know that old Zechariah was quite the skeptic. He was so cynical that even when the angel Gabriel stood there face to face and told him that he would have a son in his old age, he dared to doubt Gabriel’s promise, so Gabriel taught him a lesson and snatched his ability to speak. So old Zechariah spent the next nine or so months mute. And ladies, we know that those were the best nine months of Elizabeth’s life!

When I think of Zechariah, I imagine him as a grumpy old man, performing his perfunctory duties at the temple much like the character from the 1983 Dunkin Doughnuts commercial. You know, the old curmudgeon famous for the line, “Time to make the Doughnuts.” That’s how I picture Zechariah at the temple. And then, BAM! An angel of the Lord appears and changes his life forever! Zechariah leaves that encounter that day speechless, but a little bit frisky. He goes home to his wife, turns on some Kenny G, lights a couple of candles, pours a couple of glasses of wine, and pretty soon ripe old Elizabeth has a baby bump.

Now for nine months, Zechariah remains mute. And then comes baby. When he was eight days old they brought him to the temple as was the custom of the day, Zechariah confirms the baby’s name as “John,” and instantly his speech returns. Nine months of frustrated silence, and do you know the first thing does? He sings! Zechariah sings a song of praise to God, a song of blessing over his newborn son. The song ends with a promise of God’s peace, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (NRSV)

That’s the story we know about Zechariah. But have you ever wondered how Luke, the supposed author of our text today, knew this story about Zechariah? Luke wasn’t there at the temple when Zechariah saw the angel and lost his speech. Luke wasn’t there when Zechariah brought his infant son to the temple and uttered his first words in nine months in the form of a song of praise and peace. He wasn’t there, so how did he know these things? Simply put, someone must have told Luke the story.

The gospel of Luke was written 60, maybe 80 years after these things happened to Zechariah. By the time the gospel was written, Zechariah was almost certainly dead and gone. Gone but not forgotten. Why? Because he sang a song of peace! He is remembered two millennia later by American suburbanites like you and me because he sang a simple song of peace!

I don’t know about you, but when I’m dead and gone, there’s a part of me that wants to be remembered—remembered fondly like Zechariah. The good news from the story of Zechariah is that I don’t have to be famous. I don’t have to be the President of the United States or discover the cure for cancer. I don’t have to win American Idol or crash a state dinner at the White House. I simply have to let my life sing a song of peace. If I can accomplish that, that’s a legacy I can live with.

What about you? What kind of song does your life sing? It’s never too late to sing a song of peace! It’s never too late to show compassion to those the world rejects! It’s never too late to volunteer for a local charity or give to a worthy cause. It’s never too late to send a card to someone who’s lonely or downtrodden. It’s never too late to take soup to a sick neighbor. It’s never too late to let your life sing!

Last week I was visiting one of our members at NHC, the rehabilitation center on Kingston Pike. As I was leaving, I walked by the nurses’ station. A number of employees were there dutifully doing their paperwork. A woman older than God sat in a wheelchair, a young male employee stood behind her. As I passed by I heard her announce throughout the hall, “There’s nobody I’d rather have push me around than you!” Laughter erupted! Paperwork scowls transformed into sheer delight. The old woman continued in loud voice, “He is so handsome!” Laughter heightened. The young man beamed through slightly reddened cheeks. That old lady had made their day. She made my day! She taught me that it’s never too late to make somebody’s day.

I don’t know much about my great-great grandfather, but I know that his life sang a song of peace. A song of compassion. My family is still singing his song nearly 100 years later. I hope and pray that my song will be one of peace and compassion like his. I hope and pray that your song will be one of peace and compassion, too. Amen.

God's Great Joy (Christmas Eve Homily)

2010-08-05T11:18:00.000-07:00

To listen to this message as delivered to the

Tellico Village Community Church on December 24, 2009, click here.

Text: Luke 2:1-16

Two years ago our congregation built our first Habitat House. Being fairly new to the church, I was amazed by the inundation of volunteers ready to hammer, paint, and landscape. This outpouring of labor resulted in a wonderful new home for Jennifer and her young son, Sean. It also resulted in a great sense of joy resonating throughout the people of our church. We were thrilled to be able to come alongside this family, offering our hearts and our hands that they might own their very own home. What a joy it is to give such a wonderful gift!

Now that I’m a parent, I understand this truth more than ever before. At my house, there’s a two-and-a-half year old little man fast asleep in his bed. When Terry and I get home, we’ll nibble on cookies and milk placed thoughtfully on the table for us. And then we’ll get to work. You see, Jake gets his very first train set tomorrow. When we were at his cousin’s house for Thanksgiving, a small wooden train set kept our two-and-a-half year old enthralled for two-and-a-half hours straight. Nothing has ever captured his attention like that before. He loved that train! So when we get home, we’ll get busy setting up the most incredible train set ever for our little man. We’ll put the table in just the right spot. We’ll assemble the track and the buildings and accessories. We’ll line the train up in just the right spot. We’ll stand back to admire our work, and then we’ll fall exhausted into bed for a couple of hours until an excited little boy wakes us up before the break of dawn. And in the morning, when he comes down the stairs and sees the most wonderful gift he’s ever received, we’ll feel a deep sense of joy, knowing that our son loves the gift we gave him. What a joy it is to give such a wonderful gift!

Have you ever wonder how God must have felt on that very first Christmas? Every year we dissect the Christmas story—we look at it from the perspective of Mary and Joseph or the shepherds or the angels or the wise men. But what about God? What was God feeling on that very first Christmas?

I imagine that God felt like the parent of a young child on Christmas day. I imagine that God was giddy, excited for humanity to wake up on Christmas morning to the most wonderful gift we’ve ever received, wrapped not in ribbons or bows, but in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. “I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” the angel declared to the shepherds. That great joy? That’s God’s great joy! Joy that flowed from God’s very own soul into the course of human history. “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!” What a joy it must be to give such a wonderful gift!

And what was true 2,000 years ago is still true today. God delights in giving wonderful gifts to God’s children. God finds great joy in giving wonderful gifts to you. Won’t you open your hearts to receive all that God wants to offer to you this Christmas? Won’t you open your hearts to receive the greatest gift of all? Jesus Christ the Lord! Amen.

A Word for 2010 (Year C-Christmas 02)

2010-08-05T11:14:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as preached to the
Tellico Village Community Church on January 3, 2010, click here.

Text: John 1:1-14

Happy New Year! Today we mark the first Sunday of 2010, and the first Sunday of a new decade! An exciting day, right? OK, I have to admit, today’s not really an exciting day at all. The holidays are over. The presents have been opened, the visits with family complete, the very thought of another turkey sandwich made from holiday leftovers leaves us nauseous. At my house, we took down the decorations on New Year’s Day, much to my toddler’s protest, “No wanna clean up!” “Yeah, kid I no wanna clean up either, but people will talk if we leave our tree up until next Christmas.”

There’s something very anticlimactic about the first days of January. We’re often left with a cloud of ambivalence, left with the question, “Now what?”

It reminds me of when my son was born. Before his birth we were busy with all kinds of preparations, painting and decorating the nursery, organizing sleepers and diapers and where do you keep socks the size of a thumb nail? Like any new mom, I wanted to make sure everything was “just so.” Then came the excitement of the birth, the rush to the hospital, the anxiety of a premature birth, the days in the hospital nursing a four pound baby to health. When the doctors cleared our baby to come home after two weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit, we had the thrill of baby’s first car ride. I rode in the back seat with the baby while my husband drove 10-miles-per-hour all the way home. We carried this tiny little human into our home, set him down in his carrier on the floor, and stood there looking at him. “Now what?” we wondered. Little did we know it had only just begun!

As Christians, the days after Christmas prompt us to ask the same question. The Christ-child has been born, the carols have been sung, the manger given back to the animals, the baby Jesus sleeps in his car seat as Mary and Joseph wonder, “Now what?” “Now what?” we wonder along with them. “What was all that about anyway?” [1]

That’s where our scripture lesson comes in. John helps us answer that question. “That life,” John explains, “that little life we’ve been celebrating? That life is the light of all people. That light shines through our darkness. Don’t you get it?” the apostle begs us through the ages. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us! That’s what!”

The other part of the good news is that Jesus opened the door for you and me to become sons and daughters of God as well. Listen to verse 12: “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.” The life and ministry of Jesus Christ is basically summed up in that one statement: Jesus gave you and me the power to become the very child of God.

Barbara Brown Taylor says it this way, “Jesus is not alone in this word-made-flesh business. He has brothers and sisters able to do the works that he does and more. Almost everyone has a word that he or she has a gift for bringing to life.” [2]

Think about that for a moment:
· Think about that person you know who has the knack for bringing to life the word, “generosity.”
· Think about that person you know who has the knack for bringing to life the word, “compassion.”
· Think about that person you know who has the knack for bringing to life the word, “integrity.”

“Until someone acts on these words,” Taylor suggests, “they remain abstract concepts—very good ideas that few people have ever seen. The moment someone acts on them, the words become flesh.”

So my question for you on this, the first Sunday of a new year and a new decade is this, “What word in you wants to become flesh?” What word in you is ready to live and breathe and have life in this New Year—in this new decade?

I want to give you a hint as you think about this, don’t think about this as a way to correct a weakness. That’s the stuff of New Year’s resolutions that often fizzle out before the first light of February. Think about this as harnessing your strength . . . that God-given quality in you that comes so naturally that you don’t even realize how special it is. What is your most natural gift?

· Is it really easy for you to make friends? What a gift! Harness that gift and become a friend to someone who needs companionship!
· Is it really natural for you to do little things in service to others? Harness that gift—the world needs those who can offer acts of kindness!
· Is it second nature for you to care about those marginalized by society? Harness that gift—and work for a world in which justice reigns!

Here’s another way to think about this challenge from scripture today: Frederick Buechner said that our true vocation, that deepest calling from God, is where our deep passion meets the world’s deep need. The world has innumerable needs. We can’t meet them all. We may have lots of passions. The challenge is connect our passion with the world’s need.

We have to fight the tendency to become complacent. The ruts we find ourselves in become very comfortable, but our habits can also imprison us and lead us to a kind of emotional death.
In one of my favorite movies, The Shawshank Redemption, there’s a powerful scene in which two prisoners have a deep conversation about the future. Red (played by Morgan Freeman) tells his good friend Andy (played by Tim Robbins), “I don’t think I could make it on the outside, Andy. I been in here most of my life. I’m an institutional man now,” he confesses to Andy. In stark contrast, Andy tells Red about his dreams of owning a small hotel and charter fishing boat off the coast of Mexico. As Andy talks about his dream you can see the hope emanating from him. Red thinks that kind of hopeful thinking is bad for Andy’s psyche. “I don’t think you should be doing this to yourself, Andy. Mexico’s way down there and you’re in here and that’s the way it is.”

Andy replies, “Yeah, right. That’s the way it is. It’s down there and I’m in here. I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”

One of the silver screen’s most compelling lines: “Get busy living or get busy dying.”

Prison is a powerful metaphor for the habits and routines that can eventually control us. Several years ago I had a dream in which, like Andy and Red, I was a prisoner. As I walked the halls of the prison, I happened upon a room where other prisoners were being executed. I knew that if I continued to stay in that prison, I would die as well. Later on in the dream, I stood in the prison yard. The gate was wide open—I had the freedom to walk out, but the gate was closing slowly. I stood there in the prison yard with a choice. I could stay or I could leave, and in the dream I stood there unable to decide simply because I was terrified of the unknown outside that gate. Because of my crippling fear, I stood there imprisoned, frozen, watching the gate to freedom close in front of me.

“I don’t think I could make it on the outside, Andy.”

That dream opened my eyes to how fear was holding me hostage and keeping me from the freedom God had in store for me. Fear can hold us captive and keep us from living into our full potential. Fear often prevents us from being the men and women that God is calling us to become.

For me, my calling was to become a pastor. My prison was my denomination that prevented me from such a thing because of my gender. That dream showed me the folly of my fear, and I eventually walked through that prison gate into the freedom that eventually led me here to be your pastor. God gave me the courage to live into the calling God placed inside me.
“But to all who receive him, to those who believe in his name, he gives the power to become the children of God!”

So child of God, what are you afraid of? What Word in you is dying to get out this year? Open the gate to the freedom of living into God’s deeper calling for you.

May you find the courage to let that Word inside of you become flesh. Amen.

[1] Stephen Bauman, “John 1:(1-9) 10-18: Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009, p. 190.

[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, “John 1:(1-9) 10-18: Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 2009, p. 191.

Go Deep! (Year C-Epiphany 5)

2010-08-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as preached to the
Tellico Village Community Church on February 7, 2010, click here.

Text: Luke 5:1-11

It’s Super Bowl Sunday! The most holy day of the year in American sports culture. It’s Yom Kippur, Ramadan, and Easter Sunday all rolled into one. It’s also the “holy grail” for advertisers with last year’s Super Bowl holding the highest viewer rating of all time with 98.7 million viewers. Tell the truth, how many of you will pay more attention to the commercials than to the game itself?

I’m a football fan and I’m kind of excited about the game, but I can’t decide which team to cheer for. On one hand, you’ve got the New Orleans Saints. Their presence in the Super Bowl is the best thing that’s happened to the city since the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. I’d kind of like the Saints to give the people of New Orleans a real reason to celebrate. But on the other hand, my favorite NFL player is in the game—Peyton Manning. Being a lifelong fan of Tennessee football, he’s my boy! “That guy’s pretty good. If you like six-five, 230-pound quarterbacks with a laser rocket arm.” [1]

There’s nothing like watching a quarterback like Manning take the field late in the 4th quarter, his team down by a touchdown. Lots of teams would be doomed, but not a team with Manning at the helm. Go deep, Peyton! Go deep! It’s always exciting to watch a good quarterback throw the deep ball. It’s a high risk/high reward play. A good quarterback knows his bread and butter are the short passes—the screen plays and the quick slants. The game calls for that kind of safe, methodical play. But every now and then, the game calls for the risky deep ball. And when that kind of play is called, you can almost sense an extra intensity from the offensive line—you can almost feel the receiver’s heart pound a little faster. And when the quarterback launches the ball high into the air, the fans on both sides hold their collective breath. It’s why we pay our hard-earned money to sit in rain, snow, sleet, and hail just so that we can witness that kind of defining moment. Go deep, Peyton! Go deep, Drew! Go deep!

In our scripture lesson today, we read about a defining moment in the lives of the three men closest to Jesus throughout his ministry. We find Peter, James, and John going about their daily routine, trying to earn an honest living as fishermen on the Sea of Galilee. They’re exhausted, frustrated from working through the night with no fish and consequently, no income.

Defeated.

They’ve given up, and they’re washing their nets as a final, dutiful act before calling it quits. They notice a crowd gathered around their friend, a carpenter and teacher; he asks if he can use one of the boats to sit and teach the eager assembly. Peter says something like, “Go ahead, it’s not doing me any good.” After his friend completes his lesson for the day, he turns to Peter, and asks him to do something ridiculous. “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets.”

All due respect, Teacher, but you’re a carpenter. Leave the fishing to the professionals. “We’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.” We’re tired; we’ve already washed our nets, for crying out loud! And you want us to go deep? And there it is. Their defining moment.

They’re presented with an invitation, and they have a choice. Now the decision rests in their weary, weathered hands. Peter, James and John can play it safe. They can give into their doubt, surrender to their cynicism—or, they can take a chance. They can do something completely out of character, something nonsensical. They can take a risk.

I had a friend in seminary named Steven. Steven was several years older than me—I was one of those bright-eyed seminarians straight out of college, but Steven was one of the many middle-aged people there making a career shift. In Steven’s previous career, he had been a photographer for the local newspaper in Waco, Texas. But his work had grown stale. He was beginning to wonder if God might be calling him into vocational ministry, but the idea seemed irrational. It would take years of schooling. How would he support his wife and kids? He was looking for a sign . . . something that would send him full-steam ahead in his career as a photojournalist, or something profound enough to send him down an unknown and illogical path into a new vocation.

Steven was standing at that crossroad when the biggest news event in the history of Waco, Texas broke. It was April 19, 1993. The FBI was staging the infamous raid at the Branch Davidian compound where David Koresh and his followers lived. This was Steven’s big chance as a photojournalist, to have his name in newspapers and magazines around the world. Steven wanted to find a way for his pictures to stand out from the rest so that his photographs would stand a better chance to be picked up by news media outside his own newspaper. The way to accomplish that, he thought, was to take aerial photographs. Many others would be on the ground getting those shots, but he would capture the event from the sky.

With great fervor and excitement, he quickly made plans, grabbed his gear, and soon found himself strapped inside a helicopter heading toward the compound. This would most certainly be the defining moment of his career. But as the helicopter made its way to the site some 9 miles outside of town, the pilot received some bad news. The FBI was shutting down the airspace. No helicopters—no planes—no pictures. Steven missed his big chance.

Not only did he fail to capture the aerial photographs, the detour cost him any opportunity he may have had to get good ground shots as well. I imagine Steven must have felt like those fishermen from long ago: exhausted, frustrated from working through the night with no fish and consequently, no income.

Defeated.

And it’s right there, right when the fisherman were ready to hang up their nets, right when Steven was ready to put the lens cap on and leave it there forever—it’s there when Jesus steps in and issues an invitation: “Break from your routine, go against everything instinctual, “put out into deep water” and trust me with the results.”
For Steven, this became a defining moment. Not in the way he ever imagined. The world didn’t see his photographs. He didn’t rise to the top of his field. But this was the sign Stephen needed to “put out into deep water.” He cashed in his cameras, moved his family to a new town, and became a student once again.

A high risk play for sure. For Peter, James, and John, once they stated their doubt and their protest was made clear, they followed their carpenter friend’s advice, and went back to work. To their great amazement, the deep waters were filled with fish! The nets began to break, and two boats nearly sank because of the remarkable catch!

Perhaps even more notable than the catch that day is that Peter, James and John walked away from it. It didn’t seem to mean as much to them now that they had found their true vocation. They left everything, the scriptures tell us, to follow the carpenter.

A high risk play for sure. Isn’t it those moments that make life exciting? When you follow your heart into the deep waters where unimaginable blessings await? When you find yourself beyond what you know, beyond what you think, beyond what you can imagine.

Jesus calls out to you and to me, “Don’t wash your net just yet! Put out into deep water!” It’s risky—don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t—but high risk often yields high reward.

Is there a deeper life waiting for you? Is there a deeper wholeness Christ wants to show you?

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” Don’t be most men. Don’t be most women.

Go deep, my friend. Go deep!

[1] Peyton Manning in a commercial for Sprint.

The Voiceprint of God (Year C-Easter 04)

2010-08-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as preached to the
Tellico Village Community Church on April 25, 2010, click here.

Text: John 10:22-30

If you were here last Sunday, you heard Pastor Marty put me and the other pastors on the spot when he asked us if we had “seen Jesus” that morning. We hadn’t. He went on to preach a masterful sermon about recognizing the face of Jesus everywhere we go and through all of life’s circumstances no matter how tragic they might seem. This morning (since he’s not here) I’m going to “one up” him. I may not have seen Jesus last Sunday, but on Monday I was looking at my old seminary diploma, and I noticed something on the back in small print I had never seen. As I looked more closely, it read, “If you’re ever in a bind, call God,” and then it listed God’s phone number! Right there in black and white! Can you believe it?
So I brought a phone this morning to try it out. Let’s see what happens . . .

God: Hello! You have reached the voicemail of God Almighty. Please select one of the following options: For general requests, press 1. If you would like to offer a prayer of thanksgiving, press 2. For complaints, press 3. For healing, press 4. If you would like help with the Internal Revenue Service, press 5. If you would like to know this week’s winning lottery number, press 6. For all other inquiries, press 7. (A moment of silence while Rhonda presses a number.) I’m sorry, but all of the angels are busy helping other customers right now. Please stay on the line. Your call is important to us and will be answered in the order it was received.

Arrrgh! Voicemail! But at least I didn’t get “Chad” in Bombay!

All foolishness aside, isn’t it wonderful that we have a God who is accessible to us whenever we call? That’s not to say prayer comes easily to everyone because it doesn’t. Prayer hasn’t always been a cake walk for me, but despite my struggles with prayer, I’ve almost always been aware of God’s presence with me, and the more I grow in faith the more I can hear God’s voice.
When I was in seminary I spent my summers working at a Christian youth camp. One of the lessons I taught was this morning’s scripture: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” To illustrate the point, I led the teenagers in a game. I blindfolded a kid and placed him on the other side of the room from me. The other kids formed a human obstacle course with their bodies. I’d tell the blindfolded kid that he had to make his way through the obstacle course by listening to my voice, trusting me, and following my instructions. That was always a very simple exercise for the blindfolded kid.

Then we’d repeat the game. Another teenager would wear the blindfold; the others became the human obstacle course. I gave instructions the very same way I had before, except this time, I invited the other teens to distract the blindfolded kid by shouting misleading directions. It was often hard for the kid to hear my voice because of the distractions, but eventually, the course would be completed.

We would run the exercise one more time. But this time I secretly assigned another kid to play the role of shepherd. As the blindfolded kid began the course, all of the kids yelled directions, I remained quiet, and the new shepherd was one voice out of 20. The blindfolded kid had no idea which voice to follow. The exercise would end in frustration with the teenager unable to move. He didn’t know his shepherd’s voice.

This exercise illustrated three important lessons about hearing and responding to the voice of Jesus:
1. When we know the voice of Jesus, following him is easy.
2. Even though we may know the voice of Jesus, sometimes it’s hard to hear him because we have too many distractions in our lives.
3. Following Jesus is impossible when we cannot recognize his voice.

Hearing the Voice of God
So how can we hear the voice of God? That’s simple! We’ve got to clean out the earwax!
I know a physician who went on a medical mission trip to some third world country. Every day he and other medical professionals treated long lines of patients, many of whom had walked several miles in hope of some kind of healing.

He told me that he saw an older man who had been deaf for a number of years. When he inspected his ear canals, he discovered quite a compacted mess of earwax. My physician friend promptly made the wax to wane and the old man got his hearing back!

Now that you’re properly grossed out, the moral of the story is that sometimes we can’t hear the voice of God because we’ve let the wax build up in our ears. When we allow distractions to build up in our lives, hearing the still, small voice of God can become difficult.

Listen to this admonition from Philippians 4:8: “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (NRSV)

How’s that going for you? Let this scripture guide you through a little soul searching:
· Do you listen to truth and reject lies, gossip, and hate-mongers?
· Do you contemplate the good things in life and reject the negative things?
· Do you think about fairness for everyone or mainly for yourself and your family?

Probably most of us still have some room to grow in grace, and to rid ourselves of what my psychologist friend calls “stinkin’ thinkin’.” Whatever is worthy of praise, the scriptures say, think on that. Anything else keeps us from hearing the true voice of God.

Recognizing the Voice of God
The second challenge for us today is learning to recognize the voice of God.
Now, just to be clear, I’m not talking about some truly audible voice. Most of us will never experience God talking to us that way, but we can learn to recognize God’s voice because of its unmistakable quality.

The human voice is unique like a fingerprint or an iris. Your voice is unique to you. No one else who has ever lived has a voice like yours. Technology was invented in the 1940’s to create a voiceprint, an electronically recorded graphic representation of a person’s voice. Voiceprints are used in courts of law and for military intelligence.

What if we could obtain a voiceprint of God’s voice? What would it look like? I think we can find a clue from 1 John 4:7-8: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.” (NRSV)

God’s voice is the one calling you “beloved.” “Love is from God . . . God is love” the scripture tell us.

Just like a human voiceprint, God’s voiceprint is always the same—it’s the voice of love. So if you’re having trouble determining if a voice is the voice of God, simply ask, is this the voice of love? Does this voice point to love? Does this voice prompt love?

If the voice you hear tells you you’re not good enough—that is NOT the voice of God!
If the voice you hear stirs up hatred—that is NOT the voice of God!

On the other hand . . .
If the voice you hear calls you “beloved”—that’s the voice of God!
If the voice you hear calls some other soul “beloved”—that’s the voice of God!

And when you can imagine that God loves someone the world deems unlovable--who has committed the most heinous of crimes—when you can visualize God’s love for the terrorist or the pedophile—then you know you’re on your way to not only recognizing the voice of God, but becoming the voice of God.

Becoming the Voice of God
I love to tell the story from my days as a campus minister about an encounter I had with a devout young man who was a part of our ministry. We had a weekly worship service in which we would usually bring in guest preachers, but occasionally the other campus ministers and I would preach.

It came my turn to bring the message, and I preached my little heart out. Afterwards, the young man came to me and said, “Can I come see you tomorrow?” I said, “Sure!”
The next day, the pensive young man sat down in my office. He said, “Rhonda, I wasn’t happy about you preaching last night, being a woman and all. But I have to admit, you did alright.”
“Well, thanks,” I replied.
“My roommates and I were talking. And you remember the Old Testament story of Balaam’s donkey where the donkey actually talks to Balaam?”
“Sure,” I affirmed.
“We decided that if God can speak through a donkey, God can speak through a woman.”

We both learned that day that God can speak in unusual ways—ways we can’t imagine. So try this on for size: if God can speak through a donkey, and God can speak through a woman, maybe God can even speak through you! You can be the voice of God! You can be the voice of love! Every soul is thirsting for more love. You can be the voice that calls another soul “beloved.”

In high school I worked as a checker at Wal-Mart, trying to save money for school. Most customers were pleasant enough, but one night a customer made her way into my line who was mad at the world and anyone unfortunate enough to encounter her. From the moment I said, “Hi, how are you doing tonight?” she was on my case. She attacked my character. She called me names. I took her abuse—the more vitriolic she became the more polite my response which only made her angrier.

Eventually my supervisor heard the rant and stepped in, dismissing me while she finished the transaction. I walked away literally shaking. I had done nothing to deserve the venom spewed upon me. As I walked away, the tirade continued as the customer found new and creative names to call me.

When Ms. Mt. Saint Helens finally left, my supervisor closed down the register and came over to me. She grabbed me by both shoulders and entreated me to look at her through my now teary eyes. She said, “You did nothing to deserve that. Some customers are just jerks.” She put her arm around me, “You handled yourself with grace and dignity. I’m proud of you. Now go take a break.”

I heard two voices that day. I heard the voice of hatred, and I heard the voice of love. God’s voice came in the form of a Wal-Mart supervisor. And those names I had been called? They just didn’t seem to matter so much now that the voiceprint of God had been breathed into my fragile young soul.

God’s voice is always the voice of love. Follow that voice. Become that voice. Amen.

Wisdom Calls (Year C-The Sunday After Pentecost)

2010-08-05T10:58:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as preached to
Tellico Village Community Church on May 30, 2010, click here:

Text: Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

I was in college when the WWJD fad hit America once again—you’re familiar with WWJD aren’t you? “What Would Jesus Do?” I bet the Christian bookstores around the country were loving life with young believers pouring in to buy the latest WWJD mug, t-shirt, bracelet, or bumper sticker. Would you believe I’ve even seen a WWJD thong? Come on, confess. How many of you have owned a WWJD thong?

I never got into the WWJD craze. I never possessed a WWJD bracelet or t-shirt or bumper sticker. I never found the question, “What would Jesus do,” very helpful. It seemed to require a lot of imagination to try to figure out what a 30-year-old, first century, Jewish carpenter/rabbi would do in contemporary culture.

· “Would Jesus buy the Levis or the Calvin Kleins?” Neither. Isn’t he more into flowy, robey things?
· “Would Jesus go see the G-rated movie or the R-rated movie? Neither. Not unless they have Aramaic subtitles.
· And for a young co-ed like me in those days, “Would Jesus date Brian or Brad?” Hmmmm.

Can you see how this line of questioning quickly breaks down for a literalist like I was back then?

At the peak of this fad’s popularity, I sat down with a group of teenagers at the little country church where I served as the youth director, and pointed out the folly I noticed in the whole WWJD thing. I challenged them that instead of asking “What would Jesus do,” that they should ask, “What would wisdom do?” I read to them today’s scripture lesson from Proverbs 8 in which we see wisdom personified, dwelling among the Godhead but engaging humanity:

“Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries out: ‘To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live.’”

I spoke with those kids about making wise choices—about how every waking moment presents a choice, how we’re constantly standing at the crossroads, and right there with us is the Spirit of God—Lady Wisdom—to lead us, to guide us, to illumine our way.

So when the lectionary landed on Proverbs 8 this week, it took me back to that moment with those precious kids. It reminded me of that lesson I both taught and learned with those young believers. I now realize that I had a distinct advantage in teaching those kids about wisdom. I was the older, wiser, cool college kid who drove a little red sports car.

Today, talking with you about wisdom, I have none of those same advantages. I’m younger than most of you, I have less life experience than most of you, and I now drive a nerdy white sedan. “Why would they listen to me talk about wisdom?” I pondered. I was feeling a little bit insecure until I remembered a bumper sticker I saw once that said, “You are only young once, but you can be immature your whole life.” That’s the truth I’m claiming as we hear the call of Wisdom among us today! There’s always room to grow in wisdom! To be human means that we are constantly presented with the opportunity for growth. Lady Wisdom calls out to us at all times, in all places. “My cry is to all that live,” she joyfully proclaims! Can you hear her?

Wisdom Knows
Let’s start by asking, how do you know wisdom? What is wisdom? Because:
The situation today is:Lots of knowledge, but little understanding.Lots of means, but little meaning.Lots of know-how, but little know-why.Lots of sight, but little insight. [1]

But then there’s wisdom. Think of wisdom as being at the top of a pyramid. [2]

At the base of the pyramid is data, the raw material, the facts and nothing more. The second tier is information—the level at which facts are acquired or read, but they may be unorganized and even unrelated. Knowledge, the third level of the pyramid, is when information takes shape and becomes a part of you. Finally, at the top of the pyramid is wisdom, when knowledge is assimilated giving us insight into the situations in which we find ourselves. When our values are such that we seek the well being of all and the good of the whole, we are moving from knowledge to wisdom.

Moving toward greater wisdom is marked by an expansion of concern, from being concerned only about ourselves as the starting point, to being concerned about the people we know and love, to being concerned about all people and society as a whole, and finally to being concerned about the entire created order. Notice how this growth in wisdom plays out in a little poem named prayer:

God bless me.

God bless me and thee.

God bless me and thee and our country.

God bless me and thee and our country and every nation and every sea.

Moving toward greater wisdom also broadens our concern beyond today, to think about what impact our decisions will have into the future. Among certain Native American tribes, individuals are taught to think seven generations into the future as a way to guide the decisions they make. “How will this decision affect my children 200 years into the future?” This is called the “Seventh Generation Principle.”

Wisdom Sows

It is said that a person “has made at least a start on discovering the meaning of human life when he plants shade trees under which he knows full well he will never sit.” [3]

When is the last time you planted a shade tree?

In Proverbs 8, we see a picture of Wisdom as a master architect, co-creating the cosmos along with God. That same creative energy is as work in every person, calling each of us to become co-creators with God as well. The moment we retire from our creating capacity is the moment we lose ourselves. Wisdom sows in us a desire to plant a shade tree under which we will never sit.

When is the last time you planted a shade tree?

Thanks be to God for those men and women who had a “seventh generation” mentality about them—who dreamt of a democracy with liberty and justice for all, men and women who died for that cause that you and I might enjoy freedom.

Thanks be to God for those men and women who had a “seventh generation” mentality about them—who dreamt of an interdenominational church where the people of our community could come together and become the church together. . .people instrumental in building our current sanctuary. . .people instrumental in building our next. It’s not for us, you know. We have a place to sit. It’s our gift to the “seventh generation.”

Wisdom Grows

Wisdom knows. Wisdom sows. And wisdom grows.

A Nathaniel Hawthorne short story called The Great Stone Face “tells about a young boy, Ernest, who grew up in the shadow of a remarkable face, composed of a formation of rocks on a mountain overlooking the valley where he lived. Since his childhood, the face had fascinated Ernest, and daily he spent time beholding its benevolent character. A long-standing prophecy among the people said that someday one would come whose face resembled the giant visage. Ernest yearned for that person more than the other inhabitants of his village, for he had grown to love and unconsciously emulate the face from his long practice of studying it with care.
Several renowned men returned to the valley of their birth, and each time the villagers expected that this one would surely fulfill the prophecy. But each time, the people, and Ernest in particular, were disappointed. At long last, a famous poet came to the village, having written about the face and the human who most nearly might correspond to it. In Ernest, he recognized the one who bore the likeness of the Great Stone Face. By his attentive contemplation of the face for all of his life, he had come to reflect its own distinctive character and likeness.” [4]

Wisdom grows when we cast our gaze upon Christ, the embodiment of wisdom. We become a reflection of Christ in the world. Being made in the image of God means that wisdom is within us, and grows in us when we become seekers: “Ask and it will be given to you,” the Bible promises. “Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.” [5]

Simply put, wisdom grows in us when we become seekers of wisdom.

Wisdom Calls

This morning when I got out of bed, I went downstairs to make a cup of coffee . . . just then wisdom called. She said simply, “Gratitude,” and I was thankful for another day of life and breath.

When I finished my coffee I went to take my shower . . . just then wisdom called. She said simply, “Empathy,” and suddenly I thought about the billions of people who wouldn’t get a warm shower today.

After my shower I went back to the kitchen and discovered a mess my spouse had left . . . just then wisdom called. She said simply, “Acceptance,” and I thought about how much I love my spouse and quickly cleaned the clutter.

As I drove to work, someone pulled out in front of me . . . just then wisdom called. She said simply, “Peacefulness.” I pressed the brakes and took a deep breath, and went merrily along.

Walking into the office, I noticed a nest full of baby birds . . . just then wisdom called. She said simply, “Wonder,” and I smiled as I paused to marvel at the beauty of creation.

All of this before 7 o’clock in the morning.

Wisdom is calling you as well! Won’t you open your heart to hear what the voice of Wisdom is saying?

[1] Robert Short
[2] Copthorn MacDonald, from a video on The Wisdom Page:
www.wisdompage.com/video2/WisdomPageIntroVideo.html
[3] D. Elton Trueblood
[4] Molly Marshall, What It Means to Be Human: Made in the Image of God, Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Inc., Macon, GA. 2001, p. 49.
[5] Matthew :7-8

It Still Takes a Village (Year C-Pentecost 10)

2010-08-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as preached to the
Tellico Village Community Church on August 1, 2010, click here:

Text: Galatians 6:1-10

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. May the 4th, 2007. The day I gave birth to a 4-pound, 2-ounce human. I say “human” because on the day Jake was born, he still looked more like a fetus than a baby. I had become very sick at the end of my pregnancy; my doctor didn’t hedge when she told me that she had to deliver this unformed infant seven weeks early or risk losing both of our lives. So this tiny, shriveled, frail child was snatched from his mother’s womb long before he was ready.

I remember the delivery room, cold and sterile with shades of white and gray and surgical blue, quite different from the warm hues in the delivery rooms of today where the “normal” births happen. There were medical professionals everywhere it seemed. A team just for me and a team ready to take care of a newborn who wasn’t really ready to make his entrance into the world. Anesthesiologists, obstetricians, neonatologists . . . all kinds of “ologists” along with their very own specialized nursing crews. There must have been more than a dozen doctors and nurses surrounding baby Jake and me in our helpless state that day.

As expected, Jake entered the world with a host of complications, so the neonatologist and her crew whisked my brand-new baby boy away from me to tend to him in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).

And me? I wasn’t out of the woods yet. My condition put me at great risk for a stroke following delivery, so I had to stay connected to an IV drip for 24-hours postpartum. The worst part of that intravenous therapy? 24 hours without seeing my newborn child. 24 hours for this new mother to lie unable to tend to her baby boy or care for him at his most vulnerable state. I felt helpless. I was completely dependent on other people to be his surrogate mother for one very long day. But, thanks be to God, he was surrounded with a team of medical professionals . . . a throng of MD’s and RN’s who nursed him to health. Now three years later that feeble, 4-pound bundle of cartilage and flesh is a now 40-pound boy full of energy and fire—all thanks to those strangers there in the NICU at Norton Suburban Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky.

As I think back on that experience, the old African proverb comes to mind, “It takes a village to raise a child.” That was true for my family from the very first day of my son’s life, and it is just as true today as it was back at that hospital.

Just this week, my husband and I both had obligations that prevented us from spending the days with Jake. So we called on our village once again—this time our village of relatives and friends. Nicola on Monday, Harriet on Tuesday, Mom on Wednesday, Carol on Thursday. We needed help. We asked for help. We simply can’t do this thing on our own. It still takes a village.

But it takes a village to do more than raise a child. It takes a village to become the church.
Carry Each Other’s BurdensListen again to what the Apostle Paul said to those early Christians in the church at Galatia, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ,” [1] The church at Galatia was in trouble. Real trouble. False teachings were trickling through the assembly. Divisions were growing. Unity was in jeopardy. So in these final lines of Paul’s letter to this vulnerable church he implores of them to not “become weary in doing good.” “Do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” “Do good to each other,” he’s saying. It seems to me that Paul is suggesting that if the people of the church are busy caring for one another, there’s not a lot of time left for the things that divide whether doctrine, dogma, or dissent. “Carry each other’s burdens, and in THIS way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Period.

And that’s my favorite image of the church. Not a building, not a steeple, not a creed or a set of beliefs, but people holding one another up, bearing one another’s burdens. And if we look deep enough into the lives of our brothers and sisters, it doesn’t take long to realize that we all bear our own set of burdens. Shannon Meadows posted a quote by Plato on Facebook a few days ago: “Be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is waging a terrible internal battle.” Life isn’t easy. We simply can’t do this thing on our own. I need you. You need me. It still takes a village.

The question this morning is “what kind of village will we be?”

This week I came across two real-life stories that I want to hold before you as vivid snapshots—pictures of the church—to illumine our life together.

Snapshot Number 1: Envision This Church If You Can
Meet Bob Sanders. Bob is the pastor of a large Presbyterian church in Oregon. In a recent sermon, Bob told his congregation about a powerful moment in his life when people rallied around him and his wife [2] His wife, Debbie, has long suffered with bi-polar disorder, a mood disorder sometimes called manic-depressive illness. He admitted that he doesn’t talk much about it because of the stigma about mental illness. He confessed that not talking about it makes it even harder to deal with because of the feelings of isolation that brings. Bob was sure to praise his wife for her diligent management of the illness over the years, and her faithfulness in taking her medications despite their often unpleasant side effects.

Bob told his congregation that he and Debbie were able to manage the illness pretty well until a point in time when it started to hit harder and more frequently. It’s apparently a progressive illness. Severe symptoms began to hit Debbie roughly every other month; the symptoms would last for several weeks. Then they received a disturbing blow; Debbie’s doctor informed them that she could no longer take the medication she’d been using to keep the illness in check because it could destroy her kidneys. Bob asked the doctor what other medication Debbie might use instead, the doctor shook his head in sadness saying, “There are no good options.”

Bob and Debbie were devastated. They had no idea what to do next, what the future would hold, how they would get through it. They knew that they needed some friends, people who would come alongside them and be with them. They needed some burden-bearers. So they made a list of twenty or so people who knew about their situation, people who had journeyed with them through their difficult days, people who had been there for them in the past. They sent an email saying something to the effect of, “We simply can’t do this thing on our own.” They asked their friends to be with them on one particular evening, and nearly every one of them came. Bob and Debbie shared what they were going through – what the doctors had told them and the fear they felt, the unknowns about the days to come. Their friends gave them the gift of listening. They allowed Bob and Debbie to pour out what they were experiencing. They asked questions, but most of all, they listened.

When Bob and Debbie were finished sharing, their friends had them sit down in the middle of the room. And then the burden-bearers gathered around their friends. They placed their hands upon this hurting couple, and they began to pray. They prayed for nearly a half hour. They asked God to grant Bob and Debbie strength. The friends sought God’s guidance for ways they could be of help. As his friends prayed, Bob felt a “sense of being lifted up, of being sustained and protected by the Presence of Jesus Christ in and through the presence of these dear ones.” But as they prayed, Bob also realized that out of those twenty or so friends who gathered around them – as they prayed and as Bob listened to their voices, he realized that “almost every one of them had their own burdens as well. Some had children in crisis. Some had emotional illnesses of their own or in their family. Some were out of work. Some had lost a loved one recently. And on and on it went.” Bob was amazed that they could set aside their own burdens to help carry his.

When the prayers came to a close, the friends started working on practical ways they could help: who would provide food when Debbie was too sick to cook, who would offer rides, who would cover for Bob when he had obligations with the church, and so forth. And despite the fact that Debbie’s illness grew worse, they felt sustained, time and again, by these friends – their presence, their practical help, their prayers. Bob insists they wouldn’t have made it without them.

Can you envision a church like Bob Sanders describes? I want a church like that! Don’t you?That’s quite a snapshot! A village of burden-bearers!

Snapshot Number 2: Envision This Church If You Can
Remember Anne Rice? The bestselling novelist most known for Interview with the Vampire? Anne announced this week that she has officially renounced Christianity saying:

“Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being ‘Christian’ or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to belong to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else. In the name of Christ I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.”

Can you envision a church like Anne Rice describes? I would quit a church like that too! Wouldn’t you?

In the first snapshot, we see the church as a village of burden-bearers, but in this snapshot, the church is a village of holy terrors!

What Kind of Village Will We Be?
So back to the question I posed earlier, “what kind of village—what kind of church--will we be?”

Will we be a village of burden-bearers? A caring people who rally around a hurting brother or sister, sustaining them through the darkest of days?

Or will we be a village of holy terrors? A condemning people like Ms. Rice describes. Quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious.

It starts with me. It starts with you. “Carry each other’s burdens,” Paul teaches, “and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ,”

Church, I hope we’ll always err on the side of care. You’re already doing it. Just keep on doing it! Because I still need you. You still need me. We simply can’t do this thing on our own.

Do all the good you can,

By all the means you can,

In all the ways you can,

In all the places you can,

At all the times you can,

To all the people you can,

As long as ever you can.
-Charles Wesley

[1] Galatians 6:2 NIV.
[2] Bob Sanders, “Where We Bear One Another’s Burdens,” May 30, 2010, Lake Grove Presbyterian Church, Lake Oswego, Oregon. http://www.lakegrovepres.org/sermons/S2010/sermon_2010-05-30.htm

The Waiting Place (Year B-Advent 2)

2008-12-08T06:31:00.000-08:00

Text: Mark 1:1-8

The Waiting Place . . . for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.[1]

A nugget of truth from my favorite theologian, Dr. Seuss. “Everyone is just waiting.”

Waiting is not the activity of choice in our world of instant gratification. On Friday I was surfing the internet and found a piece of sheet music that I wanted. I went through the steps to purchase the music, placing it in my virtual shopping cart, going to the virtual checkout counter, and then the virtual checker asked me, “Do you want to wait 10-12 days on shipping or do you want it now.” Instantly I virtually said, “I want it NOW!” I went through the virtual “get it now” door, and then guess what happened? The internet shut down. The sheet music was not in my virtual hands! As soon as the internet came back up (it took forever, like 10 seconds or so) I sent a virtual letter to the company and told them my dilemma. Within the hour the sheet music was in my hands . . . flesh and blood holding a glorious sheet of instant gratification.

We’re not good at waiting, yet far more often than we’d like, we find ourselves in the waiting place.

At my house we’re waiting for the day when our little boy will be out of diapers. What a glorious day that will be! It’s a waiting that’s full of hope because we wait for something we really want.

There’s another kind of waiting, though. Sometimes we wait for something we don’t want. I asked church members, Ed and Judy Morris, if I could tell their story about the not-so-fun waiting place they’re in right now. Their son, Brad, is a pilot for the shipping company, DHL. Back in May Brad learned that his company would be shutting down deliveries within the U.S. and that he, along with a vast majority of the company’s 13,000 U.S. employees,[2] would be laid off. Brad has been looking for another job, but the job market for pilots is terrible. So Brad and his wife, Debby, and their two kids are waiting. Judy told me that the most stressful part for them is trying to sell their house. Now that they’ve been told that January 30 will be the last day of employment for Brad with DHL, hope is growing dim that the house will sell. It’s a scary time for them. They’re waiting, but I imagine that their waiting is with a sense of dread, knowing that January 30 will present difficult challenges they’d rather not face.

Sometimes our waiting is more ambivalent, with both hope and dread, because the future is simply unclear. You may know Shirley Bierkamp who works in our office. I asked Shirley if I could tell her story about a difficult waiting place she found herself in a few years ago. Shirley’s son, Wayne, was serving as a United States Marine in 2003 when the war in Iraq began. He was among those brave men and women who fought during the first wave of the invasion. He saw fierce combat during the Battle of An-Nasiriyah, sometimes called the bloodiest battle of the war.[3] 29 U.S. soldiers died,[4] dozens were wounded, and several more (including Private Jessica Lynch) were taken as prisoners of war. Wayne’s company had an embedded reporter with them, and Shirley watched the 24-hour news cycle not knowing if her baby boy would live to see another day. Shirley’s waiting place was filled with hope, hopeful that her son would survive the ugliness of war. It was also filled with dread, for there was a very real possibility that Wayne would sacrifice his life in service to his country.

We all find ourselves in a waiting place from time to time.

In our scripture lesson today, the children of Israel were waiting for a Messiah . . . someone to come and liberate them from Roman oppression. In the middle of their waiting place a messenger appeared. His name was John. He told the people that the one they were waiting for was coming. He preached hope to men and women who were weary from waiting. The Savior is Coming! Be strong! Take heart! Wait. But in the meantime there’s something you must do.

The Israelites stood in the waiting place with no control over when their promised Messiah would come.

The waiting place is always a place where we have limited control. If it were up to me, Jake would be potty trained today. Unfortunately, I don’t have that much control. If it were up to Ed and Judy, their son would find a steady job as a pilot today. Unfortunately, Ed and Judy don’t have that much control. If it had been up to Shirley, young Wayne would have been enjoying a life of peace and tranquility instead of dodging mortar rounds. Unfortunately, Shirley didn’t have that much control.

When we find ourselves in the waiting place we must acknowledge that some things are outside of our control. However, the waiting place is not a place of passivity.

“In the meantime, there’s something you must do” said John the Baptizer. “Repent!” he told the crowds that came out to see him. The word literally means to “turn.” When we find ourselves in the waiting place, our job is simply to turn. We must turn away from how things were in the past as a requisite step in preparing for the future.

As my husband and I wait for the day when we are diaper-free, we must turn from the way we know. We’ll buy some training pants for the little guy. We’ll get a little training potty. We might even pick up a copy of Potty Training for Dummies. (Yes, there’s a real book by that title.) On a more serious note, as Ed and Judy’s son waits for the dreaded day when he no longer works for DHL, he must turn from what he knows and send out resumes and list his house on the market. As Shirley waited for her son to return home from Iraq, as powerless as she felt, she had to turn from life as usual to the one thing she could do: pray. Remembering those days as the worst time in her life, she said to me, “All I had was prayer.”

The waiting place is no place for the faint of heart. Whether you’re hoping for a better day or dreading what is imminent, you must be a survivalist.

Like Colby Coombs. In 1992 Coombs and two other adventurists set out to climb a 17,400 foot mountain in the Alaska Range. As they neared the peak a storm moved in creating an avalanche that knocked Coombs and his friends 800 feet down the side of the face. When Coombs awoke six hours later dangling from his rope, he suffered from “two fractured vertebrae in his neck, a broken shoulder blade, and a fractured ankle.” His two friends were dead.

Coombs was in a terrible predicament. His goal of reaching the summit was thwarted by events out of his control. He now had to turn away from his dream of reaching the top of the mountain with his two friends. He now faced a choice. He could wait there on the side of the mountain and passively hope to be rescued, or he could do something. He chose to do something, with no guarantee what the results might be.

Over the next four days Coombs laboriously picked his way down the mountain and reached base camp. Then he still had a treacherous five-mile glacier crossing with the real possibility of falling into a crevasse with no chance of rescue. But Coombs made it. He now teaches mountaineering courses and tells his students, “if you do get in trouble, anything that gets in the way of success has to be eliminated—emotion, fear, pain. It's the mental things that will impede your survival.”[5]

We must be survivalists when we find ourselves in the waiting place. Even when the only thing we can do is pray. Like Shirley did when her son was fighting in Iraq.

I asked Shirley about the day Wayne came home. She told about how she and Jim went to Camp Lejeune. It was a hot summer day and countless people were there to welcome home beloved sons and daughters and husbands and wives and mommies and daddies. They waited in the hot summer sun as the different companies came in. They waited all day; her son’s company was the last to arrive. Shirley admitted she felt nauseous from all of the emotions of seeing so many sweet reunions juxtaposed against seeing those who showed up knowing their son or their daughter would not be among the returning soldiers that day or any day.

Then Jim and Shirley started seeing the trucks that belonged to Wayne’s company—the same ones they had seen so many times on the news. And then, after waiting all day long, Wayne’s company began marching in. The screams and cheers were deafening. Signs and banners waved in the heat. Shirley wanted so desperately to immediately run to Wayne and embrace him, but the soldiers stood in formation until the commanding officer issued the call to liberty. Shirley ran to her son among the masses. They embraced. Tears flowed. Thanks rang out to God. Her baby boy was home. Her waiting complete.

Today we wait. However our waiting is not one of passivity but of action. “Prepare the way for the Lord” cried John the Baptizer. Open your heart to receive Christ. Make room for his mercy and grace and compassion to flow through you into the dark places. “Prepare the way for the Lord!”

[1] Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go! 1990: Random House, New York.
[2] Jack Ewing, “DHL to Halt Express Deliveries in the U.S.” http://www.businessweek.com/globalbiz/content/nov2008/gb20081110_975682.htm
[3] John Noonan, “Inside OIF’s Bloodiest Battle.” http://michellemalkin.com/2007/03/16/inside-oifs-bloodiest-battle/
[4] Richard S. Lowry, “The Battle of An Nasiriyah.” http://www.military.com/NewContent/0,13190,042804_Nasiriyah,00.html?ESRC=army-a.nl
[5] Jason Daley, “I Will Survive.” Outside Magazine, September 2004.

Lighting the Advent Wreath

2008-12-01T12:46:00.001-08:00

I was charged with writing a service centered around lighting the four Advent candles. The fifth, the "Christ" candle, is not lit until Christmas Eve. I had the idea of our people singing together as the candles were lit, so I wrote the following words to the tune "Away in a Manger." Feel free to use this, but please cite your source. Thanks!

A flame warm and glowing mid winter’s cold chill;
We long for a Savior, God’s promise fulfill.
Now lighting a candle, your saints gathered ‘round,
Proclaim “Christ is coming, his HOPE to abound.”

One candle is burning and now we light two,
We pray that God’s PEACE would extend the world through.
The coming of Jesus unites humankind;
We’re children of heaven with hearts intertwined.

There’s JOY in the morning and joy through the night,
Since Jesus is coming to make all things right.
This third advent candle we light with great cheer;
O come now our Savior, Lord Jesus draw near.

Emmanuel, Jesus, our Savior and Friend,
His mercy, compassion, and LOVE never end.
With deep adoration this candle we light.
To honor our Jesus, our Lord, our delight.

The Christ candle waits for his coming one day;
To be with his children he will not delay.
We watch and we wait now for soon we will see,
Christ Jesus among us to set us all free!

A Veterans Day Benediction

2008-11-10T12:09:00.000-08:00

Now may the Author of Liberty work in every human heart to foster the cause of freedom!
May a day be realized when the lion shall lie down with the lamb. . .
When peace reigns throughout the world and in our very own hearts.
May your people, O Lord, pour out compassion and fight injustice
Recognizing that to you there are no borders that divide.
Let us go now from this place as lovers of
FREEDOM, PEACE, COMPASSION and JUSTICE
In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord.

Amen.

The Faith of Obama

2008-11-06T11:55:00.000-08:00

Two days after the election, our heads our still spinning after choosing our first African-American president. Some are elated, hoping that President-Elect Barack Obama can steer our nation in a new direction, away from economic recession and wars in the Middle East. However, nearly half of the electorate (and more than half of my parishoners) are disheartened with the outcome of the election, fearful that America has chosen a leader who will inch us closer to economic disaster and military ruin. Regardless of whether you voted for Obama, McCain, or wrote in your favorite American Idol star, Obama will be the next president of the United States.

There has been much speculation about Obama's faith during the campaign. E-mails circulated claiming that Obama is Muslim. Images of Obama's former pastor, Jeremiah Wright, screaming "God damn America!" are not easily erased from our memory.

As a Christian, I freely admit that my faith completely informs my politics. I have a keen interest in understanding the spiritual life of any person asking for my vote in a presidential election.

As I was seeking to inform myself about our two presidential contenders this year, I came across a piece that helped me understand the spiritual life of Obama. It is a speech he delivered in 2006 to a group called "Call to Renewal." In this speech, he clearly articulates his faith journey and how it informs his political positions. This is a must-read for every person of faith in America, whether Obama got your vote or not. I hope you'll take time to read this speech written by our next President of the United States. You may not agree, but at least you'll be informed.

Tough Questions Series: Can I be Considered a Christian if I Don’t Believe in the Literal Resurrection of Jesus?

2008-11-06T11:27:00.000-08:00

A man was standing off the edge of the Fort Loudon Dam about to jump. A passer-by tried to talk him down; he asked:

"My friend, are you a Christian?" to which the man answered "yes."

He exclaimed: "great, me too; what kind of Christian are you? Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant?"

The answer was: "Protestant."

"Me too; what kind of Protestant? Episcopalian, Baptist, Congregationalist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Pentecostal?"

The answer was: “Baptist.”

The man got excited: "Me too! Are you a United Baptist, American Baptist, Southern Baptist, Independent Baptist, Cooperative Baptist?"

"Southern Baptist."

"Me too! What kind of Southern Baptist? Are you a Fundamentalist, Revivalist, Traditionalist, Calvinist?"

"Traditionalist."

Now, he got really excited: "Me too! Are you Premillenial, Post Millenial or Amillenial?"

The guy on the dam said: "Amillenial."

With that the passer-by, becoming very angry, screamed: "Die, heretic!" and pushed him off the dam.

-----------

Who is a Christian? That’s the gist of our “Tough Question” tonight. “Can I Be Considered a Christian if I Don’t Believe in the Literal Resurrection of Jesus?” is the question posed by one of you. Let me address the person who posed this tough question for just a moment:

The answer quite simply is, “it depends on who you ask.”

If you ask the passer-by who pushed our friend off the dam, I guess he’d say, “No, you’re not a Christian.” He appears to be among those who define the word “Christian” quite narrowly, who have a checklist of beliefs one must adhere to in order to be counted among those who would be “authentic” Christians. One of the problems with that ideology is that the litmus test for what is considered “orthodox” belief varies widely between denominations, even between individuals in the same denomination.

Other Christians define the word “Christian” more broadly, and would be happy to include you in the fold. And since you asked this question of your pastors, we all agree that the definition of “Christian” is broad enough to include you.

But who cares about that? Perhaps we’ll be better served by going to the source. What does Jesus say about such things? What’s Christ’s litmus test for authentic faith? Does Christ demand that you hold certain beliefs in order to be counted among the faithful?

First, Christ never used the word, “Christian.” That designation, according to the book of Acts (11:26), first surfaced in Antioch, likely a derogatory term that outsiders used to label the followers of Christ. “Christian” literally means “little Christ.” The term eventually stuck, though Jesus himself never used it that we know of.

Second, nowhere in scripture does Jesus say that one must believe in his resurrection. He does talk a lot about belief. Let’s look at four “red-letter” examples of Christ’s comments about belief from each of the four gospels:

Matthew 21:22: “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer."
Mark 1:15: "The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!"
Luke 8:50: "Don't be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed."

John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

What exactly does Christ mean when he uses the word “believe?”

He seems pretty pleased with Peter about a belief that Peter professed:

Matthew 16:13b-17: He asked his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?" They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets." "But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?" Simon Peter answered, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.”

Jesus nowhere spells out a theological formula that one has to accept to be a “Christian.” He simply called people to be his followers. However, he did have expectations of those who would follow him:

Matthew 16: 24-25: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”

At times, even, Jesus seemed less concerned about what his followers believed than about how they lived:

Matthew 7:21: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”

Jesus never spelled out a set of doctrines one must believe to be included among his followers. Nor did he pen a creed that we know of.

A couple of months ago, we recited the Apostle’s Creed as a part of our communion liturgy each Sunday at our 8:00 am service. Trained in the Baptist tradition, I’ve read and even studied the creed, but it has never been a part of my weekly worship ritual. I was amused one of those Sundays when I lifted my head from the bulletin as we were going through the litany, only to see a vast number of congregants reciting the creed from memory. The pastor wasn’t as versed as the parishioners!

I know many of you can recite the Apostles creed from memory. If you know it, say it with me:

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; he descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. Amen.

Our church isn’t a creedal church. We don’t require church members to sign off on this or any other set of doctrines. As an interdenominational congregation, we try to be “as inclusive as the love of God.” Before I came on board, the staff published a little piece called, “We Believe in Jesus.”

We believe in Jesus. We want to be like Jesus. We want to teach what Jesus taught and live like Jesus lived. We’re not much into doctrines and human-made systems of belief. Those mostly serve the purpose of dividing people into camps of right and wrong, acceptable and not acceptable. We don’t believe Jesus lived that way. Jesus found ways to accept and love everyone he came into contact with. We try to do the same, although we have to admit we’re not nearly as good at loving as Jesus was. But we’re trying! We call ourselves a “community” church because we believe Jesus made himself available to the whole world—not just a little group of select people. We’re not overly troubled by folks who come to us with different beliefs, ideas, or experiences. We find reason to “commune” with each other not because we all think or believe alike, but because we are all seeking the same thing—a Way to a better world, a Truth that sets people free, and a Life that is abundantly full and meaningful. We believe the Way, the Truth and the Life revealed in Jesus is worth discovering and sharing together!

“Can I be Considered a Christian if I Don’t Believe in the Literal Resurrection of Jesus?” Around here at least, the answer is a resounding, “Yes!” But I wonder if there’s a deeper question here. I wonder if the person who posed this question is tempted to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” To give up on Christianity all together in the absence of a literal understanding of the resurrection and likely, other stories from the Bible. That, to me, would be tragic. Here’s why:

The resurrection of Christ was a turning point in history, whether understood literally, spiritually, figuratively, or not at all. There is great consensus among Biblical scholars (even those who do not claim to be Christian) that “something happened.” Something happened to transform the terrified group of followers hiding out behind the closed doors of an upper room into the bold, courageous witnesses willing to die for the story they told. Something happened in those days following the crucifixion that turned the world upside down. Something happened.

More than that, to me the Christ event was the point in history where the divine broke through into reality in a way that has never been equaled. Christ arrived on humanity’s scene at the perfect time and place; he obliterated the social and religious order and opened the door for a deeper humanity.

“The call of Christ to me is an eternal call to love, to live, and to be. It is an invitation to work for those things that create life and to oppose those people, those attitudes, and those systems that distort life. It is to become aware of the freeing, exhilarating, consciousness-raising experience of the Holy God. That God calls me into ever-new possibilities. [When] I turn to the words of Scripture and to the phrases of the creeds I no longer find the sterile choice between literalism and nothing. I find rather an expression in dated words and time-warped symbols of the same reality that I am in touch with today at the edges of my human limits and in the dawning moments of a transcendent awareness. Then suddenly the ancient biblical story becomes my story, and its ancient symbols interpret my life. I know then that I have touched divinity, a divinity that is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Christianity becomes for me not an empty and outdated set of scriptural and creedal concepts but a new adventure in living as I walk side by side with the Christians of the ages who, with me, have journeyed into the meaning of God.”[1]

May we all continue our journeys into the meaning of God.

[1] John Shelby Spong, Rescuing the Bible From Fundamentalism, Harper San Francisco, 1991, pp. 243-244.

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Year A-All Saints' Sunday)

2008-11-03T11:07:00.000-08:00

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on 11/02/08, click here.

Revelation 7:9-17

The occasion was New Years Eve. I must have been eleven or twelve-years-old, and my friend had invited some of us over for our first ever boy/girl party. Reeking from a little too much of my mother’s Chanel No. 5, and ecstatic to be at a real party with real boys, I spotted a little hottie across the room named Bradley. I’d had a crush on him for two whole days. However, when Bradley was around, I did things like stutter and trip and drool. Brad, on the other hand, was cool . . . a real Rico Suave. He could have any girl at that party, and he didn’t even know I existed.

The party was going OK. I hadn’t done anything too goofy, but then it came time to play a game I’d never heard of . . . “Seven Minutes in Heaven.” “Seven Minutes in Heaven” is similar to “Spin the Bottle,” a game where if a boy spins a bottle on the floor, he has to kiss the girl the bottle points to when the spinning has stopped. But in “Seven Minutes in Heaven,” instead of a kiss, the boy and the girl go into a closet together for their “Seven Minutes in Heaven.”
There I sat on the brink of adolescence, heart pounding, terrified that the bottle would point my way. When Bradley spun the bottle, I remember it as if it were in slow motion . . . round and round it went until it finally slowed down and eventually stopped, pointing straight at me. I was horrified! I refused to go into the closet with Bradley, but my friends pushed and prodded me until there I stood in a closet alone with Rico Suave.

You know what he wanted to do, right? He wanted to talk! Just as nervous as I was, Bradley talked incessantly for seven minutes straight. I heard about the new Atari he had received for Christmas, about the Michael Jackson concert he saw, and about his victories on the basketball court. Pretty soon my “Seven Minutes in Heaven” were over, and I had survived.

In our scripture lesson today, we hear about a different kind of heavenly encounter. The book of Revelation recounts an incredible vision one man had ripe with angels, and dragons, and a lamb with seven horns and seven eyes. Revelation has mystified students of the Bible for centuries and continues to be the source of much theological debate.

When I was a campus minister at the University of Georgia, we had a guest speaker who declared that he wished the book of Revelation had never been included in the Bible. To visually reinforce his point, he held up his Bible before the students and dramatically ripped the pages of Revelation right out. As you might imagine, his demonstration was met with gasps and shrieks and I think a few people fainted. Needless to say, that would be his last time to speak at the Baptist Student Union.

There are lots of Christians who wish this opaque, confounding work would fade into oblivion. However, on the other end of Christendom are those who develop entire theological frameworks and prophecies about the end of days that they base on the book of Revelation. You can make a lot of money these days if you’re clever enough to capture the imagery of Revelation in a blockbuster movie or best-selling book series. That’s harmless enough I suppose. What scares me are those Christian Zionists who are so eager for Christ’s return that they engage in national politics with an agenda to hasten World War III, which they interpret as a prerequisite for Christ’s return based on their interpretation of the book of Revelation.

I think the majority of Christians live somewhere in the middle, neither rejecting Revelation, nor taking it too literally. Revelation is simply one man’s vision. Like all apocalyptic literature, it is full of symbolism and metaphor which seeks to interpret some historical crisis in order to provide hope for a better future. That’s exactly what we find in our scripture lesson today. In this vision, the author is standing in heaven where he witnesses a multitude of people from every nation and every language praising God in a place where there is no more hunger, no more thirst, and no more tears. Revelation is a message of hope, not a message of doom. It’s a message of comfort, not a message of condemnation. We can only hope that heaven is as amazing as this author’s vision.

Just this week I started reading a book called 90 Minutes in Heaven by a pastor named Don Piper in which Piper recounts the amazing story of his death. After being crushed in a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler, paramedics arrived on the scene and promptly pronounced Piper dead. Multiple people checked his pulse and did not find one. The man had no pulse for 90 minutes. Piper was dead. He introduces the book this way: “Immediately after I died, I went straight to heaven. I returned to earth. This is my story.”[1] Listen to how Piper describes his 90 minutes in heaven: "Joy pulsated through me as I looked around, and at that moment I became aware of a large crowd of people. They stood in front of a brilliant, ornate gate. I have no idea how far away they were; such things as distance didn’t matter. As the crowd rushed toward me, I didn’t see Jesus, but I did see people I had known. As they surged toward me, I knew instantly that all of them had died during my lifetime. Their presence seemed absolutely natural. They rushed toward me, and every person was smiling, shouting, and praising God. Although no one said so, intuitively I knew they were my celestial welcoming committee. It was as if they had all gathered just outside heaven’s gate, waiting for me."[2]

Piper then goes on to tell about the various loved ones he encountered like his grandfather, a childhood friend, his great-grandfather, a high-school classmate, and so forth. One beloved person after another welcomed him and embraced him. He described each one as full of life, expressing radiant joy. He said that even in his happiest moments, he never felt so fully alive.
Perhaps you’re like me, a little skeptical about the stories people tell about their near-death experiences. I’m not sure exactly what to do with these “white light” tales. Do I listen to reason and science which tells me that their visions are simply physiological manifestations from a brain still functioning after a heart has stopped beating? Or do I allow myself to embrace a little mysticism and accept Piper’s story as real? Did Piper really see his loved ones in heaven? I’ll let you be the judge. Regardless, what we have in Piper’s story, and countless others who come back from the brink of death, is at the very least an amazingly beautiful vision of heaven, much like we heard from our scripture lesson from Revelation.

Some visions, like these two we’ve explored, offer hope for our future. Some visions, like the one I want to share with you next, offer hope for our now.

The next vision I want to share with you is my own. It came to me a few years ago; usually I call it a dream because it came to me while I was asleep.

It was a month or so after my father died. Dad was a good person, a hard worker, always eager to help a friend. He was consistent and loyal. However, like most of us he had some rough edges. He drank too much sometimes. He was your classic “tough guy” who felt uncomfortable expressing tenderness. He had no use for church and never spoke of his faith or lack thereof. Though my father softened with age, he remained silent about spiritual matters. Even as his death was imminent, the only thing his “minister” daughter could get out of him was an affirmation that he felt unafraid of death. To this day I have no idea if my father considered himself a Christian. I know as a younger man he was engaged in church, but that was well before I knew him. When my father died, my theological construct at that time caused me great angst concerning his eternal destiny. Was my father in heaven? Or was my father in hell?

The question lingered in my thoughts until one night a powerful dream answered the question for me and set me on a path that would eventually broaden my understanding of God. In the dream I was at a party with lots of people all having a good time when someone pulled me aside, and with a very serious look, informed me that I had a phone call. The person directed me through a door into a long hallway. My mother, my brother, and a close cousin stood opposite a phone hanging on the wall. They watched in supportive silence as I picked up the receiver. Immediately I knew it was my father on the other end of the line contacting me from his home in eternity. His voice was vivid. I asked two questions of my father in that dream. First, I asked “How are you?” My father said simply, “I’m O.K.” Then I asked him, “Where are you?” Dad said, “I was in hell, but now I’m in heaven.”

That’s it. That was my dream. It was a brief encounter, but it was a powerful vision that broke through into my conscious reality and gave me assurance that my father is not suffering in eternal hell, but he is home in heaven. Over the course of weeks and months and years, that vision shaped my understanding of God and the afterlife. I know my father is in heaven. I know your loved one is as well.

Back to our scripture lesson. I wonder if the author of Revelation . . . when he witnessed that great multitude in heaven worshiping God . . . I wonder if he saw my father there among the worshipers praising God in a place where there is no more hunger, no more thirst, and no more tears. I wonder if he saw your loved one there. I wonder if he saw me there. I wonder if he saw you there. The great “Communion of Saints” is not constrained by time or space. We’re all in that great communion together. Thanks be to God that we are counted among the saints! So rise up, saints of earth, and join the saints in heaven singing “Glory! Alleluia!” Amen.

[1] Don Piper, 90 Minutes in Heaven. Revell: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2004, p. 13.
[2] Ibid, p. 21-22.

To Have and to Hoard (Year A - Pentecost 19)

2008-09-21T06:10:00.000-07:00

Exodus 16:2-21 & Psalm 105: 1-6, 37-45

I love a really good roller coaster. The exception to that is the great Wall Street roller coaster. For those who keep up with that sort of thing, we have been on quite a ride this week! My husband and I (after reading Monday morning’s disastrous headlines) sold all of our stocks, cashed in our 401k’s, and liquefied all of our assets. Now we’re keeping every red cent with us at all times. (Pull out coin jar.) Ok, I’m teasing you. This is just the jar for our spare change. We muse about this being our college savings plan for our 1.5-year-old son, Jake. At this rate he’ll be able to go to college when he’s 72. I’m curious: how many of you have a jar or a bowl or something at your house holding your spare change?

The fact is, if you have money in the bank, in your wallet, spare change in a drawer, a pocket or somewhere you are among the top 8% of the world’s wealthiest people.[1] In other words, 6.2 billion children of God aren’t fortunate enough to have spare change, yet we (at least I) grumble and fret every time the market takes a dip.

Aren’t we just like the children of Israel wandering in the desert?

Moses led them out of slavery in Egypt and God performed miracles all along the way like sending plagues against Pharaoh and parting the Red Sea. But in the scripture we hear them whining that they’d rather have full bellies and be oppressed than to have empty bellies and live in freedom. At the first sign of trouble they were ready to cash in their freedom for a measly pot of soup.

So they grumbled. This grumbling was not simply an isolated complaint; rather it was a kind of negativity that oozed through the community and casted a dark cloud over the entire wilderness adventure. But our patient Lord did not get angry with the nation of whiners. Instead God said, “I will rain bread from heaven.” So every day God provided manna for them to eat. They had all the manna they needed for each day. For 40 years they ate manna. For breakfast, they had manna over easy, for lunch they would throw together manna sandwich, at cocktail hour . . . mannatinis.

In the next part of the Biblical account, Moses instructed the people to gather just enough manna for the day, and he told them not to save any manna until the next day. As always, some renegades rebelled and kept some of the manna for the next day. Those folks received another wonderful gift: manna maggots. The manna spoiled overnight, so that each family could only collect enough manna for the day. This daily practice was an incredible exercise in trusting God. They could not save for their future, and when they tried, worms ate holes in their 401k’s. They had no choice but to trust God would provide manna for tomorrow.

This summer my husband and I enjoyed taking our son, Jake, to the pool. Still too little to really learn to swim, we would take him into the pool with us to get him used to the water. He enjoyed splashing and riding in his little float. One day when we were there I watched as my husband played with Jake. He would set Jake on the side of the pool, and then he’d hold his arms out and tell Jake to jump. At first, Jake wanted nothing to do with this game. He would cry a little and fuss, so my husband would hold his hands and gently pull him in, and of course he’d catch the little guy every time. Then he’d start the game all over again. Each time, Jake became less resistant to the idea of jumping in. He learned that his daddy would catch him. By the end of the summer Jake loved jumping into his daddy’s arms unassisted, squealing with joy each time.

If only it were that easy for us. We’ve lived entire lives experiencing God’s provision. Certainly we’ve faced difficulty just like the Israelites did as they wandered in the desert. Yet here we are, and in this moment, at least, we’re OK. Yet when we worry, we’re like Jake at the beginning of the summer when he didn’t trust his daddy to catch him. We’re like the Israelites who didn’t trust God to provide manna tomorrow so they hoarded it. Trust in God is appreciating God’s daily provision. Trusting in God is being thankful for what we have in this moment. When we worry about tomorrow, we are essentially saying to God, “I don’t trust you.”

There’s a story about a British executive, Arthur Rank, who decided to do every bit of his worrying on one day each week. He chose Wednesdays. When anything happened that gave him anxiety and annoyed his ulcer, he would write it down and put it in his worry box and forget about it until next Wednesday. The interesting thing was that on the following Wednesday when he opened his worry box, he found that most of the things that had disturbed him the past six days were already settled. It would have been useless to have worried about them.

Each Sunday we come together and recite the Lord’s Prayer. We say, “Give us this day our daily bread.” DAILY bread. Not bread for tomorrow, not bread for 10 years from now. DAILY bread. “Grant what we need for today, Lord. Tomorrow is in your hands.” To me, that’s a powerful way to understand the prayer Jesus taught.

Yet the simple fact that you and I have food in our refrigerators makes it difficult to understand this prayer for what it meant to the people who first heard it. People who had no annuity, no savings, no refrigerators. Like 75% of the people in today’s world[2] Jesus’ hearers more often than not had no idea where their next meal would come from. Their very lives insisted that they trust God for God’s provision in the morrow.

For those of us who can’t remember the last time we missed a meal because we could not afford to eat, one theologian[3] suggests that the only way to pray the Lord’s Prayer with authenticity is to identify with the poor . . . to think of the 5 billion people living today who are food insecure.

I was in a meeting this week and heard a gentleman speak who has his Ph.D. in missiology,[4] the study of religious missions and missionaries. He said that the church is undergoing a seismic shift in how we understand missions. Generations past have understood the role of the church in missions to be sending money and supporting missionaries through prayer, etc. Churches are moving toward understanding their job as being integrally involved in God’s plan. From asking, “How can we support the missionaries in Botswana” to “how can we reduce poverty?” Individuals are asking, “How can I reduce poverty?”

Maybe we’re finally getting it!

Once we get over fretting over our own tomorrows, we can get down to the real work Christ calls us to . . . caring about the world in need. When I stop and think about it, I’ve got everything I need for today. For that matter, I even have a little extra (show coin jar). If I place tomorrow in God’s hands, I can get busy doing God’s work for his children who might not have what they need for today.

A couple of weeks ago, I watched as our political candidates engaged in a forum about community and global service. I was inspired by both of them in various ways. I started thinking about my own community, Tellico Village, and started imagining what it would be like if our entire village, starting right here at this church, began to engage more fully in the world around us.

I started thinking about the many ways people are already involved, like volunteering at local hospitals and non-profits. I started thinking about how lots of folks are active in various civic groups that give money for scholarships and cures and causes of all kinds. I thought about how our own church sponsored and built a habitat house. But then I thought, “But there’s still so much more to do!” I discovered that roughly 5,000 people in Loudon County live in poverty, many of them children.[5] “What if our church caught the vision to reduce poverty in Loudon County?” I began to wonder. “What if every member of our church took this vision to heart, responding on an individual level to reduce local poverty?”

When we set aside worrying that God will provide for our future, our energy can be directed to asking these kinds of questions. When more of us start asking these kinds of questions, we will change the world.

So go and trust God for your tomorrow. And after that ask God what role you are to play in somebody else’s tomorrow.

Let us close by praying the prayer that Jesus taught.

[1] http://www.geography-site.co.uk/pages/citizenship/global_village.html
[2] ibid.

[3] Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1-7, p. 383.
[4] Dr. Rob Nash, in a dialogue on 9/17/08.
[5] http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/states/47/47105.html

Whoosh! Boom! Roar! (Year A-Pentecost 13)

2008-08-11T05:56:00.000-07:00

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

1 Kings 19:9-18

Did you hear it? God was not in the WHOOSHBOOMROAR!

There was the prophet Elijah, standing on top of a mountain when three natural disasters struck. First a great big WHOOSH . . . a wind splitting the mountain causing rocks to come tumbling down. And after the whoosh came a BOOM . . . an earthquake shaking the very foundation under the prophet’s feet. Then after the boom came a mighty ROAR . . . a fire consuming everything in its path. But God was not in the WHOOSHBOOMROAR.

This is big news! This goes against pop culture’s tendency to place God where God is not, particularly when we have our own WHOOSH or BOOM or ROAR.

Like after the WHOOSH of Hurricane Katrina which left over 1,300 dead and countless more homeless. John Hagee saw God in that WHOOSH, and suggested it was God’s punishment for a particular city’s upcoming gay pride parade.

Or after the ROAR of September 11, 2001 when terrorists flew airplanes into buildings killing roughly 3,000 people. Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell saw God in that ROAR, and suggested it was God’s punishment for America’s corruption.

Oh, and it’s not just the right wing that does this. The lefties come up with this crazy stuff, too! You probably remember the BOOM in China back in May that left over 70,000 people dead. Sharon Stone saw God in that BOOM, and suggested it was God’s punishment for China’s treatment of Tibet.

It’s easy to blame God when disaster strikes. When there is a WHOOSH, a BOOM or a ROAR, people search for answers, and unfortunately there are those who capitalize on those opportunities to make some kind of point for their own purposes.

But there on the mountain stood an exhausted and terrified prophet waiting for a word from God. But God was not in the WHOOSHBOOMROAR.

That must have been pretty disappointing for Elijah. I imagine Elijah was probably a lot like us, wanting God to manifest God’s self in exciting, extreme ways. We always want the next big thing. We want our houses bigger. We want our computers faster. We want our cell phones to have cameras and our MP3 players to have GPS. We want our joint replacements to make our espresso. And we want our hurricanes and our earthquakes and our fires . . . well, we want the Lord God Almighty right in the middle of them like an orchestra conductor. It makes for a pretty sexy deity.

When I was a kid growing up in church, I remember thinking of the Bible as a book of answers. Whatever problem I had, the Bible had an answer for it. I don’t know where I picked up this technique, but I learned to practice the “holy flip.” I would simply state my dilemma before God, flip through my Bible to some random page, place my finger upon the print and POOF! There the answer would be! It reminds me of a story:

A preacher was driving down a country road when his car broke down, so he walked to a nearby bar to use the phone. After calling for a tow truck, he spotted his old friend, Frank, drunk and shabbily dressed there at the bar. “What happened to you, Frank?” asked the good reverend. “You used to be rich.” Frank told a sad tale of bad investments that had led to his downfall. The preacher told Frank to go home. He said, “Open your Bible at random, stick your finger on the page and there will be God’s answer.” Some time later, the preacher bumped into Frank, who was wearing a Gucci suit, sporting a Rolex watch and had just stepped out of a Mercedes. “Frank.” said the preacher, “I am glad to see things really turned around for you.” “Yes, preacher, and I owe it all to you,” said Frank. “I opened my Bible, put my finger down on the page and there was the answer—Chapter 11.”[1]

Wouldn’t it be great if it were that simple? We have a question, we flip and find the answer. A disaster strikes, we simply determine who God is punishing.

However, I don’t think God has much taste for such bravado.

Back to the mountain with our disappointed Elijah. Instead of God revealing God’s self through the extraordinary means of the WHOOSHBOOMROAR, God gently whispered in what the King James Version calls a “still, small voice.”

A very popular perfume commercial from the 1970’s is forever lodged in my cerebrum—it went like this: “Whisper. If you want to capture someone’s attention, whisper.” I suppose God wanted Elijah’s attention, so God didn’t yell or scream or throw a God-sized tantrum. God didn’t even show up in the WHOOSHBOOMROAR. Rather, God simply whispered. I think God is still in the whispering business today.

But we can’t hear the whispers because there is too much NOISE! I dare say every one of us has a debilitating disorder called “sensory overload.” From televisions to the radio to the internet, we’ve got to have noise. We even buy machines for the express purpose of making “white noise.” The constant cacophony leaves little space whispers.

It’s not only an auditory issue. We have visual overload as well. I hosted a student from England in my home a few years back, and I asked her what was most striking about the United States that was different from England. She commented that she was taken aback by all of the advertising, particularly the billboards. I started paying attention after that and discovered that she was right! 20 minutes of advertising before a movie. Advertising on our grocery carts. I’m thinking about getting in that game by hosting ad space on the back of my Sunday morning vestment. What do you think? Mama needs a new pair of shoes!

What’s even more detrimental in our ability to hear the whispers of God than all of that external clanging is the internal chatter. Our minds are busy dredging through the past or fretting about the future. And somewhere in the center of all of that is God . . . gently whispering to us . . . calling us by name . . . telling us we are beloved . . . spurring us to boundless faith, radical hope, and revolutionary compassion.

God is in the silence. “Be still and know that I am God,” we read in the Psalms.[2] Stillness is both a mandate and a prerequisite for hearing and knowing a God who desperately wants to be known.

I read a story about several applicants seeking a position as a ship’s Morse code operator. While they were waiting to be interviewed, the room was filled with the sounds of conversation, and so the applicants were oblivious to the sound of dots and dashes emanating from an intercom. Then another applicant came in, sat down, and quietly waited. Suddenly, she jumped up, walked into the private office, and after a few minutes, walked out with the job. The other applicants exclaimed, “We were here first! How could you go ahead of us and get the job?” To which she replied, “Any of you could have gotten the job if you had just been quiet long enough to pay attention to the message on the intercom.” “What message?” “The code said, ‘A ship’s operator must always be on the alert. The first person who gets this message and comes directly into my office will get the job.’”[3]

If we could just be quiet long enough, what might we hear? What might God be whispering to us today? After the WHOOSH of the hurricane, after the earthquake’s BOOM, after the ROAR of the fire . . . what might the silence say? Brothers and sisters stop looking for God in flashing neon and:

Make room for the whispers.

[1] Reader's Digest, March, 1993, p. 71.
[2] Psalm 46:10.
[3] Rev. Dr. Homer Henderson tells this story in his June 20, 2004 sermon, “Silence Bites.” http://www.day1.net/index.php5?view=transcripts&tid=11

Faith vs. Clarity (Year A-Pentecost 12)

2008-08-04T10:04:00.001-07:00

To listen to this sermon as delivered to the
Tellico Village Community Church on August 3, 2008, click here.

Gen. 32:22-31 & Matt. 14:13-21

Last week was my favorite week of the year! You know why? It was “Shark Week” on the Discovery Channel! Hours upon hours of shark tales for me to enjoy. You might be wondering why I enjoy Shark Week so much, so let me tell you. I once swam with sharks. My husband and I like to scuba dive, and the last dive I went on off the coast of North Carolina, we encountered maybe a dozen, maybe 1,500 sharks. One in particular came right up beside me (20 yards) and said “hello.” As I was lingering there, some 70 feet under water looking into the eyes of a sand tiger shark, the most interesting thing about that encounter was the fact that I felt no fear. Just a sense of awe and wonder. I knew the statistics and realized the probability of getting killed by that shark were small; I also knew there are exceptions to the norm and realized that this predator had the power to kill me. But there I was, looking a predator in the eye, unafraid. Why? Faith! (Or perhaps stupidity . . . but I like to think it was faith.)

Now, in that moment I didn’t articulate the details, but in looking back, I think I had faith that regardless of what happened, it would all work out. If the shark killed me, I would soon be in heaven and my husband would enjoy the life insurance policy. If he maimed me, well, God would see me though that as well. And then I’d have a REALLY good sermon illustration!
When you analyze this story, the only way I would be 100% sure to avoid a shark attack would be to never get in the ocean. Just like the only way to be 100% sure you’re never in a car accident is to never ride with Tim Meadows, or to ever get in a car at all. The only way to never have your heart broken is to never love.

There are many, many ways in life that we can find certainty, but the cost of that certainty is often entirely too high. Thank God for the risk-takers! Thank God for those who have risked loving us even though we might fail them or even die on them. Thank God for those who have risked their lives, some even lost their lives that we might live in freedom. Life is risky business, and to live fully we must take some risks.

What does this have to do with our scriptures today . . . with Jacob wrestling with God or Jesus feeding the multitude? Everything! Let me explain.

Let’s first look at the story of Jacob wrestling with God. This might just be my favorite Old Testament story because I’ve had a few knock-down, drag-outs with the Almighty myself. I imagine every thinking Christian does. But wrestling with God is risky business. Jacob left the ordeal with a limp. I left my wrestling match with God with a theology that doesn’t fit nicely into any box and landed me in a heap of trouble with my fundamentalist employers. Wrestling with God is risky business.

Then there’s Jesus and the story of feeding 5,000 men, and probably something like 20,000 when you count the women and children. The context to this story is that Jesus had just learned of the beheading of John the Baptist, his cousin, his friend, and his partner in this new, spiritual revolution. His reaction was to seek solitude, so he got in a boat by himself and went off to what the scripture calls a “lonely place.” Reading between the lines a bit, Jesus was upset, grieving, and probably his own impending execution weighed heavy on his heart. So he needed to be alone to think and pray . . . but he didn’t get that alone time. The crowd followed him, 20,000 strong. When he saw them, the Bible says he had “compassion on them and healed their sick.” Setting aside his need for solitude, the wounded healer goes to work:

“When it was evening, the disciples came to Him and said, ‘This place is desolate and the hour is already late; so send the crowds away, that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’ But Jesus said to them, ‘They do not need to go away; you give them something to eat!’ They said to Him, ‘We have here only five loaves and two fish.’ And He said, ‘Bring them here to Me.’ Ordering the people to sit down on the grass, He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up toward heaven, He blessed the food, and breaking the loaves He gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.”[1]

I wonder what must have been going through Jesus’ mind as he looked at the throng of 20,000 hungry people and compared their hunger with the measly little loaves and fish. I’m not one who thinks that Jesus was omniscient, that he knew everything that had ever or would ever happen. I think he was more human than that. So I’m not convinced that when Jesus TOOK that bread, when he BLESSED that bread, when he BROKE that bread, and when he OFFERED that bread, I’m not convinced he knew exactly what would happen next. It was a risky thing for Jesus to do. It could have ended miserably with 19,995 hungry men, women, and children staring at him like a hungry shark. He risked humiliation. He risked failure. He risked himself in one ill-advised moment of sheer faith.

And what happened next? We don’t really know, but we do know that whatever happened, it made an impression on his followers. So much so that it’s the only miracle story that appears in all four gospels. Did more bread and fish appear out of thin air, like manna from heaven? Or did those who were wise enough to pack a picnic emulate the generosity of their lord, offering what they had to those who had nothing. Was this the first great potluck supper? And if so, does it diminish the story? I don’t think so. The “haves” sharing their abundance with the “have nots” is indeed a miracle. A miracle we could still use a little more of even today.
All we know is that Jesus took a great risk; and as the Bible says, “They all ate, and were satisfied.” In his compassion, he cared about their hunger. And they ate. Every man, woman, and child.

I heard a true story a few years ago that I want to share with you, though my details may be a little fuzzy. A reporter went to visit with Mother Teresa. He was doing a piece about the work she was doing with the poor in India. He had spent several days with her, maybe a week, and he was preparing to depart. As they were saying goodbye, this fragile, Mother Teresa asked the reporter how she could pray for him. His request was that she would pray for clarity for him in life. Apologetically, Mother Teresa told him that she would not pray for this for him. Puzzled, the reporter asked why. Mother Teresa offered that she herself had not once had clarity, rather she always trusted in God. She told the reporter that she would pray for him to have trust . . . trust in God when nothing seemed very clear.

I’ve held this story close to me ever since I heard it because of the powerful truth and insight within it. The truth is life offers little clarity, but with faith we can enjoy the journey anyway.

In a couple of weeks I’m going to the beach. I slip into my wetsuit (or push, prod, and poke), and I’ll step off a boat into a vast ocean full of unknowns underneath. And with just a little faith, I’ll enjoy every single minute of it!

May you trust God in uncertain times, and may you know the great joy of walking in risky faith!

[1] Matthew 14:15-19, NASB

Is God Pro-Life?

2008-06-24T12:40:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-06-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T11:16:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T08:22:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T06:51:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T06:47:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-24T05:59:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-24T05:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Taking the Lord Into Our Own Hands (Year C-Pentecost 21-Proper 24)

2008-06-24T05:50:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on October 21, 2007, click here.

Text: Genesis 32:22-31

Did you hear about the lawsuit filed against God in a county court somewhere in Nebraska? This is no joke! The suit was filed last month against God citing God’s participation in natural disasters and various forms of terrorism.[1] Though the lawsuit is not a joke, it is an attempt by a Nebraska state senator to make a statement about frivolous lawsuits. I don’t know if he has swayed any opinions, but he has certainly created some interesting headlines! If he wins this suit, I sure hope God has some good liability insurance! I don’t think the cattle on even a thousand hills could pay for the suits that would follow!

Who hasn’t had a beef with God at some point or another? C’mon, you know you’ve shaken your fist in the air when rain drops start falling on your tee time. How dare God! Or your team (which is somehow ALWAYS God’s team) can’t quite pull off that win. But really, haven’t you had a complaint or two against God for something maybe a little more serious than tee times and touchdowns? Perhaps you would like to take God to court. Hey, maybe we should all take God to court!

In Genesis 32:22-31, we learn about Jacob, a guy who bypasses the legal system and takes the Lord into his own hands. He had a wrestling match with God. It takes more than a little moxie to step into the ring with Yahweh, the Lord God of the Universe, doesn’t it? Now, this wasn’t one of those World Wrestling Federation events with grown men prancing around in their underwear, but a knock-down, drag-out brawl lasting all night long with dirt and blood. . .I love this story, because it is so raw yet so full of mystery. Much like life. . .so raw and so full of mystery. Here’s what we learn from the passage:
· Jacob, all alone, wrestles God (v. 24)
· Jacob suffers as a result of the wrestling (v. 25)
· Jacob receives a new name, becomes a “new man” (v. 26-28)

What we know from the surrounding passages is that Jacob is at a critical juncture in his journey. He is running from a less-than-stellar past and facing a very uncertain and scary future. Jacob’s very name gives us a hint into his personality. The name “Jacob” meant “trickster” or “deceiver.” So in this story we catch Jacob the trickster fleeing from a father-in-law whom he tricked out of a lot of money, and he is about to face his brother, whom he tricked out of their father’s blessing and inheritance.

Jacob is on a journey back home, and about to see his brother for the first time since he snookered him. Jacob receives word that his big brother, Esau, is there to welcome him home with 400 other men! This is either going to be the biggest homecoming party in history, or a battle of epic proportions. Jacob sends ahead his entire family, all of his possessions, and a whole lot of presents to appease Esau before seeing him again face to face. After he sends ahead everything and everyone, he finds himself alone. His unsettling past and worrisome future were his only companions.

Alone. Alone is the place where we often find God, isn’t it? When the distractions are gone and the noise has settled God often comes calling, sometimes whether we’ve issued an invitation or not. Sometimes the still, small voice of God booms like thunder in the silence of our aloneness. Jacob issued no invitation that we know of, and when God showed up, God didn’t have too much interest in sipping tea and talking about the weather. God wanted to wrestle.

I have to admit, there are some things about this story that make me uneasy. Some things I have to twist around in order to make them fit into the pretty little boxes I’ve constructed for God. It’s a mysterious passage. Like, Jacob seems unsure until the end whether his battle is against man or God. And, it seems to be God that initiates the wrestling match. My God of peace and love and flowers and puppies? Then it seems that Jacob gains the advantage in this story? My super-hero God of omnipotence? But what troubles me perhaps more than anything from this passage is that Jacob ends up permanently wounded. I don’t know about you, but when I pray for the touch of God I’m not thinking hip dislocation! But that’s just what Jacob received.

I want to be very careful here. It’s very tempting to us preacher-types to theologize and explain away why God would seemingly injure Jacob. If I were to do that, I’d be just another preacher creating yet another pretty little box and we’d all put our little god in there and tie our cute little ribbon around it and go get lunch.

Jacob prayed for protection against his brother, Esau. What he received was a midnight warrior who left him crippled. What can we learn about God from that?

The God of History can not be reduced to peace and love and flowers and puppies. Nor can God be likened to our cartoon-book fantasies of Superman or Mighty Mouse always pulling us frail mortals out of harm’s way. I like the way Robert Owens says it: “[God] is on no one’s leash. [God] establishes governments and overthrows them. [God] builds, and [God] tears down. There are times when God answers our prayers with a parting of the seas, with an almost miraculous easing of the way. But there are other times when [God] answers us with toughness and hard, hard challenges.”[2]

Fortunately for us, however, that’s not the end of the story. That toughness and those hard, hard challenges are followed by the blessing of God.

Finally the dawn begins to break for our boy, Jacob, and the wrestling match is drawing to a close. The stuff metaphors are made of. “Then the man said, ‘Let me go, for it is daybreak.’ But Jacob replied, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me.’

Jacob has been after blessings his whole life, hasn’t he? He tricked his father for a blessing. He tricked his father-in-law for a blessing. But now, it seems, he’s got no more tricks up his tunic. And then a telling exchange: “The man asked him, ‘What is your name?’ ‘Jacob,’ he answered.”

The last time in the scriptures someone asks Jacob his name, he flat-out lies. He tells his father that he is Esau. But in this story, he comes clean. “I am Jacob. The trickster. The deceiver.”

The mysterious stranger does not immediately give Jacob what he has requested, the blessing. Instead, “the man said, ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.’” When Jacob asked God for protection from Esau, what he got was a midnight wrestling match. Now when Jacob asks for a blessing, he gets a new name. And where Jacob came from, the name made the man. In that instant, Jacob not only received a new name, but a new identity. From “trickster” to “wrestles with God.”

Jacob left his wrestling match with God crippled, but a new man. There’s a great irony to this story. Struggle is sometimes a gift from God. Like the mama eagle helping her babies grow up. She builds her nest using first thorns, broken branches, and sharp rocks, lining it with a cozy padding of wool, feathers, and fur. Then when it’s time for the little birds to leave the comfort of her nest, she pulls up the fluff, exposing the sharp rocks and branches. Pretty soon, the nest becomes less cozy prompting the fledglings to leave their once-comfortable abode and move on to maturity.

Struggle is sometimes a gift from God. It’s sure hard to see the gift in the middle of the battle. That kind of vision is only in retrospect. But most of us, when we think about times in our lives when we’ve really struggled, we can think of a blessing or two that followed. And our boy Jacob? Well, he became a little weaker on the outside, but so much stronger within. Then, almost as an afterthought, the mystery man gave Jacob the blessing he requested. And even later, when Jacob finally saw Esau along with 400 of his closest friends, “Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept.” An old liar had a new limp. And Jacob was no longer alone.

There are lots of folks out there who like to keep God in cute, simple little boxes with very neatly tied ribbons. And if that kind of faith works for you, great! It’s much simpler when everything can be labeled black or white and faith isn’t messy. But for the rest of us. . .for those of us who want more than the fancy packaging of the Bible teachers and preachers. . .to the rest of us God says, “Step into the ring with me. I can handle it.” Like Jacob, we may walk away from our wrestling match with God with a bit of a limp. But like Jacob, we may receive a new name and a restored identity; we may just find our new and deeper life as a result of our struggle with The Divine. “The Trickster” became “Israel.” Who might you become if you find the courage to take the Lord into your own hands?

Oh, by the way, I didn’t finish the story about the lawsuit against God filed last month in Nebraska. They’re having a heck of a time serving the subpoena.

[1] Fox News, September 17, 2007. http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,297121,00.html
[2] Owens, Robert J. Jr. “Wrestling With God.” Princeton University Office of Religious Life. http://web.princeton.edu/sites/chapel/wrestlingwithgod.htm

Cosmic Sardines (Year A-Easter VI)

2008-06-23T12:54:00.000-07:00

Text: Acts 17:22-31

Have you ever played the game called "Sardines?" Sardines is similar to Hide-n-Go-Seek, except you must have a group to play Sardines. You play it at nighttime, and you turn all the lights off inside. One person hides, and the rest look for that person, and if you happen to find the one hiding, you quietly hide with them and wait for the others to find you both. And one by one, others begin hiding with you until you’re packed in there like a can of sardines.

Well, not to toot my own horn, but I am a Sardines master. I’ll tell you why. One night I was helping to chaperone a youth lock-in at my previous church. We decided to play a game of Sardines in the church building (churches are great venues for Sardines!) When it came my time to hide, I knew the perfect spot. I had discovered a roll of carpeting standing up in a corner behind the chancel, so I unrolled the carpeting and shimmied myself in there and rolled it back up around me. However, at some point in all the shimmying and rolling and what-not, the carpeting and I fell over and landed on a pile of junk, but it was too late. I heard the kids coming my way. Now the problem with Sardines or Hide-N-Go-Seek, is that if you’ve found the perfect hiding spot, it darn well better be a comfortable one. Mine wasn’t. I was lying contorted, wrapped in carpet, sweating like Hillary Clinton in a room full of republicans. I was breathing slow and shallow so as not to run out of oxygen. The kids walked back and forth, right past me a number of times. They looked for me for nearly an hour! I could tell from their conversations that they were getting frustrated. At first I was amused and giggled to myself. But eventually, because I was so uncomfortable, I wanted desperately to be discovered.

For far too many Christians, the life of faith is like some kind of cosmic game of Sardines. We feel like we're groping around in the dark, looking everywhere we can think for a God in hiding. And God just sits there giggling. And we search and we search and we search. And finally we get frustrated.

This isn't a new phenomenon. It's exactly the kind of searching Paul encountered during his trip to Athens, Greece. Upon his visit to this intellectual capital of the ancient world, he did what any good tourist would do. He walked around taking pictures, or at least mental pictures. He encountered idols of all kinds, statues presumably. The Athenians had erected a statue to every god they could imagine, and being the intellectuals they were, they had even erected an idol "to an unknown god," just to cover their bases in case there was a god out there hiding from them yet eager to release wrath on them anyway. Paul saw the folly in this, and more gently than customary for Paul, pointed out their folly to them.

A few years back I was leading a group of college students on a mission trip to Chiang Mai, Thailand. During one of our first days there, a couple of the students and I went for a walk around the city and off-the-beaten-path for tourists. The most remarkable thing about that walk was encountering little statues of Buddha everywhere we went. In the public square, but also in the yards of nearly every private home we passed. I remember wondering if these statues of Buddha had become idols in and of themselves to the residents of Chiang Mai, not really in keeping with the teachings of the Buddha. I also remember thinking that if the Buddha would have known about the hundreds of thousands of statues of him that would be made, he might have tried to drop a few pounds. But I imagine if someone from Chiang Mai were to visit our town, and particularly our church, they might be taken aback to see so many crosses—crosses worn as jewelry, crosses displayed on light fixtures and so on. They might wonder if the cross was our idol, not really in keeping with the teachings of the Christ.

Now, I don't see too many people worshipping the symbol of the cross. I don't really think the cross has become an idol for too many Christians today. Oh, but there are idols. I dare say that many of us, this very moment, are sitting at the feet at one kind of idol or another. Jenny Williams, a United Methodist pastor, describes two ubiquitous idols in our churches today[1]:

The first is the idol of experience. People worshiping the idol of experience might say, "I know God is real if I FEEL God." Some Christians grope for God by creating emotional experiences through worship or prayer. These church members might remark that if the sermon or hymn or special music "makes them laugh or cry, they feel as if they have worshiped." Perhaps their god could be called "entertainment" as well as "emotion" or "experience." I've had numerous conversations with serious Christians who have felt distant from God because they couldn't "feel" God. God is in hiding except for those rare occasions in which their emotions are stirred.

A second common scene we find in our churches today is people worshiping the idol of intellectualism. Folks worshiping at the foot of this idol might say, "I know God is real if I can UNDERSTAND God." Will Willimon relates a story of a student who complained about the religion department at her college. The religion department employed four professors teaching courses in everything from Hindu beliefs to Jewish law to Christian history. "They know a great deal about a great many things in religion," she said, "but none of them in the department are practitioners of any particular faith. I find that strange. They know everything about God except God!" To search for the divine as only an intellectual matter is another form of misguided groping for God. We treat God as a topic to be conquered. “If only I take another Bible study, if only I could get my questions answered, then I will know God.”

Experience and intellect are paths to God, but all too often these paths are mistaken as gods in and of themselves. God is much more stable than our human emotions, and much too ethereal for our human intellect. A God that we reduce to, say, joy is no God at all. A God that fits nicely into our systematic theologies is not a very big God, and not a God I care to serve. Emotions and reason can point us to God, but emotions and reason are not God! When these paths become idols, the end result is that we create distance from God. If we believe that a strong feeling or the right theory helps us worship God, we end up worshiping the emotion or the theory. And worship of anything but God separates us from God.

All of us need to stop reaching so far in our search for God. God is, our scripture lesson asserts, "not far from each one of us." We tend to forget this, but artists throughout the centuries have known this great truth. Particularly Eastern orthodox iconography, you’ll notice paintings of people with light surrounding their heads. This light is a depiction of their "aura," a subtle emanation around living beings indicative of God's presence within each person. “God is not far from each one of us,” Paul said. Sometimes we’re just looking in the wrong places.

Like when those kids were walking all around me in the eternal game of Sardines. I wanted to be found. They simply had to call on me. They simply had to ask me to reveal myself. So they did. And I with great joy I emerged from the world’s greatest hiding spot. Worship the God who is not to far from each of you. (Read first stanza of hymn “Christ Beside Me.”)
[1] Jenny Williams, "Idol Behavior" The Christian Century, April 19, 2005, p.19.

Does God Still Hear? (Year A-Pentecost VI)

2008-06-23T12:45:00.000-07:00

To listen to this sermon as delivered before the
Tellico Village Community Church on June 22, 2008, click here.

Genesis 21:8-21; Matthew 10:24-39

Sometimes the “word of the Lord” is disturbing. Today is one of those days.

In our gospel reading today, Jesus says, “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” A sword? Not our sweet, innocent, innocuous, teddy-bear Jesus! My Jesus likes puppy dogs and rainbows and flowers! Not swords!

Then our Old Testament reading makes our dear old Father Abraham out to be a henpecked, deadbeat dad. You remember the background to today’s story, right? God promised Abraham and Sarah that they would finally have a son in their old age. Well, they tried and they tried, (poor old Abraham was popping Viagra like candy) and their pregnancy tests kept coming back negative. So Sarah insists that Abraham try to conceive a son with her slave woman, Hagar. Henpecked Abe consents and WHAM! Hagar became great with child.

Predictably, Sarah became terribly jealous and banished the pregnant Hagar to the desert. Then in the middle of the desert, God appeared. (Isn’t it just like God to show up in your most desperate hour?) In fact, it was Hagar, this Egyptian slave, who was the first person in scripture to ever see God! (Isn’t it just like God to lift up the lowly and humble the proud?) God commanded Hagar to go back to Abraham and Sarah. But God made Hagar a promise, nearly identical to the promise God made to Abraham. God said to Hagar, “I will greatly multiply your descendants so that they shall be too many to count.”[1] Then God told Hagar to name her son “Ishmael,” which means, “God hears.” So Hagar goes back, and Abraham at the age of 86, had his first-born child, a bouncing baby boy named Ishmael: “God hears.”

The birth of Ishmael didn’t keep Sarah from trying to have a child of her own. For 15 years she kept filling Abraham’s prescription, and finally, when Abraham was 100-years-old, Sarah gave birth to Isaac. However, Isaac’s entrance into the family unleashed Sarah’s jealousy once again, and this time she instructs Abraham to banish both Hagar and the 15-year-old Ishmael into the desert. So he did, leaving them both for dead. In our day and time, Abraham would undoubtedly find himself behind bars for child neglect. Child neglect? Not our sweet, innocent, innocuous, teddy-bear Abraham!

So Hagar and Ishmael wander in the desert, and when they had used up their last drop of water, they both began to cry out loud. And God heard.

Does God still hear? Or has he become hard of hearing in his old age? Does God still hear the cries of his children?

This is the question that 20-year-old Susan asked me when she walked into my office, closing the door behind her. Politely, and with unusual seriousness, she asked if I had a moment to talk, and when I indicated that I did, she began to tell me a story. It went something like this:

Rhonda, there’s a girl, Jessica, who lives on my hall. We’ve become good friends this year, and she comes occasionally to the Bible study I host in my dorm room. Well, we learned that Jessica got pregnant. So we’ve been praying for her, and a couple of us went to talk and pray with her. We learned that she was thinking about having an abortion. So we started praying every night that Jessica wouldn’t have an abortion, knowing that it would not be God’s will for that to happen. I’ve never prayed so hard for anything in my life. But Rhonda, she had the abortion. I don’t understand. I know that we were praying in accordance to God’s will. I know the Bible says that “whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”[2] But God didn’t answer this prayer. Explain that to me.

I have to admit, I don’t remember exactly what I said to this young person who felt betrayed by God. I do remember the empathy I felt for her. I do recall remembering my own crisis of faith as a young adult when I discovered that God couldn’t live up to my expectations. I dare say that most Christians experience this disillusionment at some point in time. We sing a song called “God Answers Prayer,” but maybe we’re like another college student of mine who said to me, “I’ve had more unanswered prayer than answered.”

Let’s admit it: we’d all like for God to be our own personal genie in a bottle. We’d just pick up our Bible, give it a little rub, and POOF! George Burns would be standing beside us with his stogie, ready to make our wishes come true. Well that’s fun to imagine, but we all know it’s far from reality . . . or do we? Sarah of Old Testament fame didn’t get it. In fact, most of our favorite biblical characters didn’t get it. Something good happens, “the Lord has blessed me!” Something bad happens, “the Lord has cursed me!” In Sarah’s case, her strongest desire, what she wanted more than anything, was to have a child, yet she remained barren for many, many years. Who did she blame for her barrenness? God! Her own personal genie in a bottle refused to make her dream come true. She says so herself according to scripture: “The Lord has prevented me from bearing children.”[3]

This theology is rampant in our culture, though to me, it is primitive and childlike. It oozes out of statements made in the face of disaster, like blaming God for Hurricane Katrina, suggesting it as God’s wrath for homosexuality. This distorted theology was the backdrop for the student demanding an explanation for her unanswered prayer. With so much evil and suffering in our world, and with humanity’s propensity to blame God for it all . . . again, we’re left with the question, “Does God still hear?”

Does God still hear when the doctor calls it cancer?
Does God still hear the silence in that broken relationship?
Does God still hear the cries of children orphaned by wars, disease, and natural disaster?

Back to our text. Hagar and the teenaged Ishmael are alone in the desert, without water, crying out loud. And in the words of our scripture, “God heard.” And it didn’t stop there. Not only did God hear, but God responded. God gave Hagar and Ishmael exactly what they needed in their moment of desperation. Two simple things.

First, God gave Hagar a promise. God promised to make a great nation from Ishmael’s descendants. Once again, God’s promise to Hagar was nearly identical to the promise God made to Abraham. A great nation! What God gave to the woman in her moment of desperation was HOPE! Hope for a bright future for herself and her only child. God knew that what any person needs in her darkest hour is a ray of hope! With hope, humans can handle life’s gravest challenges. So God gave them HOPE!

The second thing God gave did for Hagar was to open her eyes, that she might see a well full of water right there beside her! God heard their cries, and gave Hagar and Ishmael HOPE for their future and SUSTENANCE for their now. HOPE and SUSTENANCE.

But the question still lingers, “Does God STILL hear?”

The answer is a resounding, “YES!”

Yes God hears!!! Not in a genie-in-the-bottle sort of way. Rather, God grants exactly what we need each for each and every day! You see, all we really need is HOPE FOR TOMORROW and SUSTENANCE FOR TODAY. You and I tend to get wrapped up in all the details, “What shall we eat” or “what shall we wear?”[4] Is God our genie in the bottle ready to grant our every wish? Absolutely not! But what God did for Hagar and Ishmael, what God has done for people throughout the course of history, and what God does for you and I is provide HOPE FOR TOMORROW and SUSTENANCE FOR TODAY.

A couple of years ago I was watching an interview with my favorite NFL player, Peyton Manning. Peyton had been “on” that season, heaping up remarkable statistics. One of the stats that was particularly impressive to the interviewer was how few quarterback sacks he had taken throughout the season. My details might be off, but I think he had the fewest sacks of any quarterback in the league that year. The irony is that Peyton has never been known as a running quarterback or for his fancy footwork. So the interviewer posed the question, “how?” “How do you avoid the sack?” Typical responses might be, “I get rid of the ball quickly,” or “I have a great offensive line protecting me.” But that’s not the answer that Manning gave. Instead he said simply, “I listen to the crowd.” You see, apparently there’s a roar of the crowd that remains pretty consistent until the very second before the 300-pound tackle reaches the quarterback. Then, apparently, there is a collective gasp. It is the gasp that signals Manning to dump the ball now! With everything else going on, watching for receivers, looking for coverage, watching the play unfold, managing the clock . . . one of the most critical tasks for Manning is listening to the crowd.

And with all that God has going on, God listens to his people too. And responds giving HOPE and SUSTENANCE.

I’ve got to tell you how the other story ends. When Abraham finally died, Ishmael, together with his half-brother, Isaac, buried his father.[5] Reconciliation? Forgiveness? Closure. And God made good on his promise. It is common belief among Christians, Jews, and Muslims that Ishmael became the father of Arabic race and then later on, the nation of Islam. Isaac and Ishmael came together to bury their father. Maybe one day we’ll see the descendants of Isaac and Ishmael come together as well. Let there be peace on earth, O Lord. And let it begin right here.

[1] Genesis 16:10
[2] Mark 11:24
[3] Genesis 16:2
[4] Matthew 6:31
[5] Genesis 25:9