1Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
2Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
3For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
4Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgment.
5Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.
6You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
7Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
8Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
9Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
10Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.
11Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me.
12Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.
26In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
If you have consulted your calendar today, you’ll notice that it is March 25. Today is exactly nine months before Christmas, which makes today the Feast Day of the Annunciation. That is, today we celebrate the message given to Jesus’ mother Mary that she will bear a son who will save his people from their sin. To those among us who follow the liturgical calendar, this may mean more than it does to those among us who do not. Or, if you’re like us Methodists, who pick and choose when we follow the liturgical calendar and the lectionary as seems most fitting our needs, today may be a confusing time that perplexes worship planning.
In true Methodist fashion, we who like to find a middle way, I have cobbled together today’s service using one reading from the Lectionary for this coming Sunday – the Psalm, and another reading for the Feast Day of the Annunciation, our reading from St. Luke’s Gospel.
It seems a strange juxtaposition, does it not? On the one hand, the Psalmist cries out, “Create in me a clean heart, O God!” Cleanse me! Purge me! Empty me! Let all the things in my life I cling to be wiped away. On the other hand, the angel tells Mary that she will literally be filled with the things of God. The Psalmist acknowledges guilt, having been born a sinner when conceived. The child Mary will bear is without sin, the one who will become sin for the world. The Psalmist recognizes the inherent distance between God and humanity; Mary is told that through her, God plans to come and dwell among us.
In fact, the first part of the message Mary receives is this: “The Lord is with you.” In fact, these very words are ingrained in many of us with a rhythmic pattern. A friend of mine who is now a Lutheran pastor recalls going to see Star Wars with his family in the theater back in 1977 when he was growing up in the midwest. That part in the movie came up when, for the first time, one of the characters says to another, “The force be with you.” He said, “200 pious Lutherans in the theater immediately responded, ‘And also with you.’”
In many of our traditions, this is how worship begins – the presence of the Lord is invoked and wished upon the worshippers. “The Lord be with you.” (Wait for response). It’s a call to prayer, acknowledging that the grace of God is present even before we invoke God’s name. “The Lord be with you.” (Wait for response). It is a statement of blessing – that the Spirit of the Lord, a unifying Spirit, may remain between the two of us even while we are apart from one another.
The angel explains the details of the plot to Mary, and her only question is a good one: “How can this be?” Having been answered to her satisfaction, her only response from this point on is yes. “May it be to me as you have said,” she says.
I wonder what would happen if the people of God were to respond similarly. If God spoke, in whatever way that happens in our particular traditions, and we simply said yes. “May it be to me as you have said.”
And yet, that seems easier said than done. There are so many things that keep us from being able to say a clear, resounding solid “yes” to God. Distractions, ambition, pride, selfishness, disinterest all get in the way. And here is where the words of the Psalmist during this Lenten season do us good, as we ask God to create within us clean hearts, to restore us in our relationship with God and nurture our relationships with each other. Before we can be filled with the things of God, as Mary was, we first need to be emptied of the things of ourselves. Being part of the work of God means that we must surrender our wills to God’s, and I think that the exact intersection between this Lenten Psalm and the news given to Mary.
John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, gave us a covenant service by which we could strengthen this bond and continually give ourselves over to this work. The central prayer of the service is the thought upon which I wish to leave us today:
I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me employed by thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low by thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Redeeming Time - Exodus 20:1-17
Then God spoke all these words: 2I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; 3you shall have no other gods before me. 4You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. 5You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, 6but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments. 7You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name. 8Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. 9Six days you shall labor and do all your work. 10But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. 11For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it. 12Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. 13You shall not murder. 14You shall not commit adultery. 15You shall not steal. 16You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 17You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.
At Cross Trails Church in Gainsboro, TN you’ll find a version of the Ten Commandments translated into Jackson County English. Now, my Hebrew isn’t all that good, so I guess God must have given these commandments in Southern Hebrew. And you know what? I love that God speaks to us in our native language. Pastor John and I have an ongoing discussion about how when God speaks to him, God says “y’all.” When God speaks to me, God says, “yous guys.” To people in middle Tennessee, God says: (1) Just one God. (2) Put nothin' before God. (3) Watch yer mouth. (4) Git yourself to Sunday meetin.' (5) Honor yer Ma & Pa. (6) No killin.' (7) No foolin' around with another fella's gal. (8) Don't take what ain't yers. (9) No tellin' tales or gossipin' – I suppose this would also include following up statements with “bless their heart” or couching gossip as a prayer request. (10) Don't be hankerin' for yer buddy's stuff.
In our society, something about the number ten suggests completeness. For one, it’s a manageable number. You have ten fingers, so keeping something to ten keeps it in the sphere of managability. A quick search on Google will reveal lists of Ten Commandments – the Ten Commandments of Investing, the Ten Commandments of Home Ownership, the Ten Commandments of Fly Fishing, the Ten Commandments of selecting the right college, and so on.
I think everyone here today would agree that the Ten Commandments are important for Christians to know and follow. Sometimes that’s easier said than done, and that’s exactly what we’ll talk about today. May we pray.
As I say the words, “Ten Commandments,” no doubt a number of thoughts will come into your head. Perhaps you have an image of Charleton Heston coming down off the mountain in that great epic movie, or the time you accompanied your Jewish friend to synagogue. Perhaps you’re thinking “law,” or “rules.” Perhaps “guidelines” or “covenant.” Perhaps you’re thinking of Miss Kitty who taught you the Ten Commandments back in your 3rd grade Sunday School class, or perhaps you’re thinking about the Alabama Supreme Court.
This last reference reminds us of how controversial the Ten Commandments have become. On one hand, they have a universal character about them. Recent polls indicate that roughly ¾ of Americans – this number has not changed significantly in decades – affirm the Ten Commandments as an important set of moral standards with broad and far-reaching applicability. It is hard to avoid recognizing that the kinds of directions in the Ten Commandments are widely present in a variety of societies and cultural traditions throughout space or time. Within the Ten Commandments are moral guidelines found in many of the world’s major religions. In the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, the biblical narrative recognizes the wisdom of the big ten and obeying them beyond the confines of Israel.
On the other hand, the Commandments have a particular character about them. That is, they are given within a particular faith – the Hebrew faith – and passed along to the descendents of that faith, including Christianity.
You can feel the tension between those two positions – one extreme that says the Ten Commandments are universally binding, and one that says they are particular to the Hebrew faith and its descendents. I know good, faithful, Bible-believing, Spirit-filled Christians who fall along this entire spectrum, and who have vehemently strong opinions on this matter.
So what do we do? First, I think the argument over where the Ten Commandments should be displayed is one of those issues about which faithful Christians can disagree. This is one of the things I love about being a United Methodist – we do not have to hold identical opinions about everything under the sun. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, frequently said, “In matters that do not strike at the heart of scriptural Christianity, we are free to think and let think.” Regarding what we believe, he said, “in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; and in all things, charity.” Whatever we think the place of the Ten Commandments is outside the synagogue and church, we are free to hold differing opinions.
Second, I’d like us to consider the context in which the Ten Commandments are given. It’s back in verse 2 of today’s reading: I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” In other words, the Ten Commandments are given in the context of an existing covenant. It’s as if God says, “Just as a reminder – I am God. I’ve done some things for you that you may remember. I’ve made a covenant with you. I am your God, and you’re my people. Since you’re living in my house, I have some rules I want you to follow. Don’t think of these as restrictions, but think of these as helping you grow in your relationship with me and with each other. If you follow these things, you’ll find yourself growing in your upward relationship with me and in your outward relationships with each other.”
So, the point of the Ten Commandments is not to enforce some universal moral code, but to draw us into deeper relationship with God and each other. What if we took the time and effort that goes into the debate about where and how the Ten Commandments ought to be displayed and devoted that to inviting people into covenant with God? What if we devoted that time and energy to building our relationships with each other? It seems to me there are a whole lot of people out there vehemently arguing about the importance of the Ten Commandments, but I feel our time could be better spent internalizing and living them out than in passing legislation for or against them. I’ll bet Georgia congressman Lynn Westmoreland wishes he had learned this lesson before this interview. (Show clip from 2006 interview - Steven Colbert & Westmoreland http://www.funnyhub.com/videos/pages/ten-commandments.html).
It seems that sometimes we miss the forest for the trees, doesn’t it? Before we argue with each other about the Ten Commandments, it might be a good idea to actually know what they are.
Let’s focus on what we can agree on here. The Ten Commandments are important to people of Hebrew faith and its descendents, including us Christians. Jesus told us to remove the log out of our own eye before helping our neighbor with the speck out of theirs. Whether other people are exposed to and following the Ten Commandments is an issue to be dealt with after we, ourselves, are following them completely.
While we could focus on any of the Commandments in greater detail, I want to consider this one: Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work – you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord make heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.
From the very beginning, a rhythm and pattern is established by God in the account of creation. During those proverbial days of creation, God works six days, and then says, “You know, I’m not going into the office tomorrow. I’m going to take the day off.” Perhaps God had consulted Ray’s Weather, and Ray predicted the seventh day was going to be a five-golf-ball day.
The pattern of six days of work and one day of rest is a good one to follow. God created us with a yearning to rest and enjoy what we have done, to stop working, and breathe deeply. John Calvin, who in many ways founded what we understand to be the Protestant work ethic, wrote, “Work is good, but when we work all the time work becomes a curse, not a blessing.”
And yet, particularly within our society, the tendency toward workaholism continues at a blinding pace. Particularly in this economic climate, those of us who still have adequate employment may find ourselves working all the harder, proving ourselves to be hard-working, loyal, productive members of the organization – you know, the valuable team members they wouldn’t want to let go if things got tight. No doubt many of us are putting in long hours all week, and then going in for a few hours on Saturday before starting our second job.
Not only do we work like dogs, a lot of us are proud of it! We don’t need rest! We don’t need sleep! We don’t need time for renewal or recreation! Look at how hard we work! Nevermind the fact that we’ll have a nervous breakdown at 33. Nevermind that we’ve neglected our families at the times they’ve needed us the most! Nevermind that you’ll have a massive stress-induced heart attack in your 50s! 24/7 is not just a phrase, anymore – it’s a way of life.
Many of you recall when society itself seemed to support a sabbath. Stores, restaurants, and gas stations were closed on Sundays. The nostalgic among us will yearn for a return to these simpler, more innocent times. But I also know that many you experienced those Sundays as oppressive. Oddly enough, you had to help prepare that big mid-day meal, you had to set the table, and then you had a mountain of dishes to wash. After you did all that work, odd considering that is the type of work prohibited in legalistic interpretations of the sabbath, you were confined to the living room or perhaps the front porch for the remainder of the day. Some of you weren’t allowed to play games, or invite a friend over, or head to a friend’s house, or go to the playground, or spend money on anything.
While I appreciate these attempts to remember the sabbath and keep it holy, I think they completely miss the point. First, if you want to be that legalistic, the actual sabbath is still Saturday, not Sunday. In the Jewish understanding, the seventh day, the day of rest, is the sabbath. It is significant that Christians worship on Sunday. Sunday is the day of our Lord’s resurrection, and so every Sunday, Christians celebrate a little mini-Easter. Sunday is the first day – the day associated with creation. But Sunday is also the eighth day – the day the Jews associated with redemption. So for Christians to worship on Sunday, we celebrate who we are as God’s beloved children created in God’s image, but we also celebrate our redemption in Christ. We celebrate that because of Jesus, we find our rest in him through the power and witness of the Holy Spirit.
Second, the sabbath is not about legalism or restriction. Indeed, Jesus reminds the religious leaders of his day, “The Sabbath is made for human beings, not human beings for the Sabbath.” In other words, a day of rest is a gift to us. The purpose of the tradition was not to add another rule to the list of religious requirements and obligations. It is about the nurture and restoration and healing of human lives. Jesus wasn’t interested in legalism, but he was interested in whole, healthy human beings. John Calvin again: “On the Sabbath we cease our work so God can do God’s work in us.”
So then we find ourselves back in a more traditional understanding of the Protestant work ethic – work hard all week, and then take a day to rest and enjoy the fruit of your labor. In the tale of creation, after all, this is what God did! However, I’d like to remind you where humanity shows up in that particular story, and perhaps reframe the discussion a bit.
Whatever you understand the days of creation to mean, notice that humankind is not created until the sixth proverbial day. Before that, God has been creating all the creatures – wild animals and creeping things (Gen 1:24) – it seems to have been a full day. But the last item on God’s agenda before he turns out the lights on that sixth day is to create humankind – male and female God creates us in God’s image, and God blesses us, and makes us stewards over the whole created order. The next day, the proverbial seventh day of creation, the sabbath God consecrated, is humankind’s first full day. I imagine them waking up, saying, “Hey God – what are we gonna do today? Name and catalog the animals, or the rivers or the oceans? Name the mountains or the stars? See how many kinds of trees you’ve planted in this garden?”
“Today, my children, we’re going to rest.”
“But God, we haven’t even done anything yet! We haven’t worked! We haven’t earned our rest yet!”
The sabbath is a gift from God before we have done a thing to deserve it. The sabbath is itself a gift from God who is gracious, who gives good gifts to God’s children before we have asked for them, before we have earned them, before we deserve them. God does not give the sabbath as reward for work completed – God gives the sabbath as a pure and simple gift before we’ve done a thing. Honor the sabbath and keep it holy, because it is a gift from God, it is a means of grace, it is how God redeems and hallows time, it is where our relationships with God and one another are nurtured.
The story is told of an American boat that docked in a small Mexican fishing village. The owner of the boat complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. “Not long.” “Then, why don’t you stay out and fish more?” The small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family. “What do you do with the rest of your time?” the American wondered. I sleep late, I fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village, see my friends, have a few drinks, and have a good time. I have a full life.”
The American interrupted. “I have an MBA from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and I can help! First, you should fish longer hours every day. With the extra money from all the fish you sell, you could buy a bigger boat. Then, with the extra money from the bigger boat, you could eventually buy a second, and a third, and a fourth, and eventually have a whole fleet of boats. Then, instead of selling to the middle man, you can negotiate directly with the processor and perhaps have your own plant! Then you could leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!”
“How long will that take?” “I dunno, 20, 25 years. When your business gets big, you can get into the stock market and make millions! After that, you can retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children and grandchildren, take a siesta with your wife, and spend the evenings enjoying your friends.”
We can spend a lifetime working to get somewhere. Many times, however, we find that we’re already there. We can work and work to earn some rest or a chance to slow down. But God invites us to recognize that rest is a gift we already have.
Remember the sabbath and keep it holy. Slow down, and enjoy the good things in your life as a gift from God. Spend time with God and with those you love. Time is both a gift from God and a precious resource. Remember the sabbath, and keep it holy.
At Cross Trails Church in Gainsboro, TN you’ll find a version of the Ten Commandments translated into Jackson County English. Now, my Hebrew isn’t all that good, so I guess God must have given these commandments in Southern Hebrew. And you know what? I love that God speaks to us in our native language. Pastor John and I have an ongoing discussion about how when God speaks to him, God says “y’all.” When God speaks to me, God says, “yous guys.” To people in middle Tennessee, God says: (1) Just one God. (2) Put nothin' before God. (3) Watch yer mouth. (4) Git yourself to Sunday meetin.' (5) Honor yer Ma & Pa. (6) No killin.' (7) No foolin' around with another fella's gal. (8) Don't take what ain't yers. (9) No tellin' tales or gossipin' – I suppose this would also include following up statements with “bless their heart” or couching gossip as a prayer request. (10) Don't be hankerin' for yer buddy's stuff.
In our society, something about the number ten suggests completeness. For one, it’s a manageable number. You have ten fingers, so keeping something to ten keeps it in the sphere of managability. A quick search on Google will reveal lists of Ten Commandments – the Ten Commandments of Investing, the Ten Commandments of Home Ownership, the Ten Commandments of Fly Fishing, the Ten Commandments of selecting the right college, and so on.
I think everyone here today would agree that the Ten Commandments are important for Christians to know and follow. Sometimes that’s easier said than done, and that’s exactly what we’ll talk about today. May we pray.
As I say the words, “Ten Commandments,” no doubt a number of thoughts will come into your head. Perhaps you have an image of Charleton Heston coming down off the mountain in that great epic movie, or the time you accompanied your Jewish friend to synagogue. Perhaps you’re thinking “law,” or “rules.” Perhaps “guidelines” or “covenant.” Perhaps you’re thinking of Miss Kitty who taught you the Ten Commandments back in your 3rd grade Sunday School class, or perhaps you’re thinking about the Alabama Supreme Court.
This last reference reminds us of how controversial the Ten Commandments have become. On one hand, they have a universal character about them. Recent polls indicate that roughly ¾ of Americans – this number has not changed significantly in decades – affirm the Ten Commandments as an important set of moral standards with broad and far-reaching applicability. It is hard to avoid recognizing that the kinds of directions in the Ten Commandments are widely present in a variety of societies and cultural traditions throughout space or time. Within the Ten Commandments are moral guidelines found in many of the world’s major religions. In the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, the biblical narrative recognizes the wisdom of the big ten and obeying them beyond the confines of Israel.
On the other hand, the Commandments have a particular character about them. That is, they are given within a particular faith – the Hebrew faith – and passed along to the descendents of that faith, including Christianity.
You can feel the tension between those two positions – one extreme that says the Ten Commandments are universally binding, and one that says they are particular to the Hebrew faith and its descendents. I know good, faithful, Bible-believing, Spirit-filled Christians who fall along this entire spectrum, and who have vehemently strong opinions on this matter.
So what do we do? First, I think the argument over where the Ten Commandments should be displayed is one of those issues about which faithful Christians can disagree. This is one of the things I love about being a United Methodist – we do not have to hold identical opinions about everything under the sun. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, frequently said, “In matters that do not strike at the heart of scriptural Christianity, we are free to think and let think.” Regarding what we believe, he said, “in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; and in all things, charity.” Whatever we think the place of the Ten Commandments is outside the synagogue and church, we are free to hold differing opinions.
Second, I’d like us to consider the context in which the Ten Commandments are given. It’s back in verse 2 of today’s reading: I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” In other words, the Ten Commandments are given in the context of an existing covenant. It’s as if God says, “Just as a reminder – I am God. I’ve done some things for you that you may remember. I’ve made a covenant with you. I am your God, and you’re my people. Since you’re living in my house, I have some rules I want you to follow. Don’t think of these as restrictions, but think of these as helping you grow in your relationship with me and with each other. If you follow these things, you’ll find yourself growing in your upward relationship with me and in your outward relationships with each other.”
So, the point of the Ten Commandments is not to enforce some universal moral code, but to draw us into deeper relationship with God and each other. What if we took the time and effort that goes into the debate about where and how the Ten Commandments ought to be displayed and devoted that to inviting people into covenant with God? What if we devoted that time and energy to building our relationships with each other? It seems to me there are a whole lot of people out there vehemently arguing about the importance of the Ten Commandments, but I feel our time could be better spent internalizing and living them out than in passing legislation for or against them. I’ll bet Georgia congressman Lynn Westmoreland wishes he had learned this lesson before this interview. (Show clip from 2006 interview - Steven Colbert & Westmoreland http://www.funnyhub.com/videos/pages/ten-commandments.html).
It seems that sometimes we miss the forest for the trees, doesn’t it? Before we argue with each other about the Ten Commandments, it might be a good idea to actually know what they are.
Let’s focus on what we can agree on here. The Ten Commandments are important to people of Hebrew faith and its descendents, including us Christians. Jesus told us to remove the log out of our own eye before helping our neighbor with the speck out of theirs. Whether other people are exposed to and following the Ten Commandments is an issue to be dealt with after we, ourselves, are following them completely.
While we could focus on any of the Commandments in greater detail, I want to consider this one: Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work – you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord make heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.
From the very beginning, a rhythm and pattern is established by God in the account of creation. During those proverbial days of creation, God works six days, and then says, “You know, I’m not going into the office tomorrow. I’m going to take the day off.” Perhaps God had consulted Ray’s Weather, and Ray predicted the seventh day was going to be a five-golf-ball day.
The pattern of six days of work and one day of rest is a good one to follow. God created us with a yearning to rest and enjoy what we have done, to stop working, and breathe deeply. John Calvin, who in many ways founded what we understand to be the Protestant work ethic, wrote, “Work is good, but when we work all the time work becomes a curse, not a blessing.”
And yet, particularly within our society, the tendency toward workaholism continues at a blinding pace. Particularly in this economic climate, those of us who still have adequate employment may find ourselves working all the harder, proving ourselves to be hard-working, loyal, productive members of the organization – you know, the valuable team members they wouldn’t want to let go if things got tight. No doubt many of us are putting in long hours all week, and then going in for a few hours on Saturday before starting our second job.
Not only do we work like dogs, a lot of us are proud of it! We don’t need rest! We don’t need sleep! We don’t need time for renewal or recreation! Look at how hard we work! Nevermind the fact that we’ll have a nervous breakdown at 33. Nevermind that we’ve neglected our families at the times they’ve needed us the most! Nevermind that you’ll have a massive stress-induced heart attack in your 50s! 24/7 is not just a phrase, anymore – it’s a way of life.
Many of you recall when society itself seemed to support a sabbath. Stores, restaurants, and gas stations were closed on Sundays. The nostalgic among us will yearn for a return to these simpler, more innocent times. But I also know that many you experienced those Sundays as oppressive. Oddly enough, you had to help prepare that big mid-day meal, you had to set the table, and then you had a mountain of dishes to wash. After you did all that work, odd considering that is the type of work prohibited in legalistic interpretations of the sabbath, you were confined to the living room or perhaps the front porch for the remainder of the day. Some of you weren’t allowed to play games, or invite a friend over, or head to a friend’s house, or go to the playground, or spend money on anything.
While I appreciate these attempts to remember the sabbath and keep it holy, I think they completely miss the point. First, if you want to be that legalistic, the actual sabbath is still Saturday, not Sunday. In the Jewish understanding, the seventh day, the day of rest, is the sabbath. It is significant that Christians worship on Sunday. Sunday is the day of our Lord’s resurrection, and so every Sunday, Christians celebrate a little mini-Easter. Sunday is the first day – the day associated with creation. But Sunday is also the eighth day – the day the Jews associated with redemption. So for Christians to worship on Sunday, we celebrate who we are as God’s beloved children created in God’s image, but we also celebrate our redemption in Christ. We celebrate that because of Jesus, we find our rest in him through the power and witness of the Holy Spirit.
Second, the sabbath is not about legalism or restriction. Indeed, Jesus reminds the religious leaders of his day, “The Sabbath is made for human beings, not human beings for the Sabbath.” In other words, a day of rest is a gift to us. The purpose of the tradition was not to add another rule to the list of religious requirements and obligations. It is about the nurture and restoration and healing of human lives. Jesus wasn’t interested in legalism, but he was interested in whole, healthy human beings. John Calvin again: “On the Sabbath we cease our work so God can do God’s work in us.”
So then we find ourselves back in a more traditional understanding of the Protestant work ethic – work hard all week, and then take a day to rest and enjoy the fruit of your labor. In the tale of creation, after all, this is what God did! However, I’d like to remind you where humanity shows up in that particular story, and perhaps reframe the discussion a bit.
Whatever you understand the days of creation to mean, notice that humankind is not created until the sixth proverbial day. Before that, God has been creating all the creatures – wild animals and creeping things (Gen 1:24) – it seems to have been a full day. But the last item on God’s agenda before he turns out the lights on that sixth day is to create humankind – male and female God creates us in God’s image, and God blesses us, and makes us stewards over the whole created order. The next day, the proverbial seventh day of creation, the sabbath God consecrated, is humankind’s first full day. I imagine them waking up, saying, “Hey God – what are we gonna do today? Name and catalog the animals, or the rivers or the oceans? Name the mountains or the stars? See how many kinds of trees you’ve planted in this garden?”
“Today, my children, we’re going to rest.”
“But God, we haven’t even done anything yet! We haven’t worked! We haven’t earned our rest yet!”
The sabbath is a gift from God before we have done a thing to deserve it. The sabbath is itself a gift from God who is gracious, who gives good gifts to God’s children before we have asked for them, before we have earned them, before we deserve them. God does not give the sabbath as reward for work completed – God gives the sabbath as a pure and simple gift before we’ve done a thing. Honor the sabbath and keep it holy, because it is a gift from God, it is a means of grace, it is how God redeems and hallows time, it is where our relationships with God and one another are nurtured.
The story is told of an American boat that docked in a small Mexican fishing village. The owner of the boat complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. “Not long.” “Then, why don’t you stay out and fish more?” The small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family. “What do you do with the rest of your time?” the American wondered. I sleep late, I fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village, see my friends, have a few drinks, and have a good time. I have a full life.”
The American interrupted. “I have an MBA from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and I can help! First, you should fish longer hours every day. With the extra money from all the fish you sell, you could buy a bigger boat. Then, with the extra money from the bigger boat, you could eventually buy a second, and a third, and a fourth, and eventually have a whole fleet of boats. Then, instead of selling to the middle man, you can negotiate directly with the processor and perhaps have your own plant! Then you could leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!”
“How long will that take?” “I dunno, 20, 25 years. When your business gets big, you can get into the stock market and make millions! After that, you can retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children and grandchildren, take a siesta with your wife, and spend the evenings enjoying your friends.”
We can spend a lifetime working to get somewhere. Many times, however, we find that we’re already there. We can work and work to earn some rest or a chance to slow down. But God invites us to recognize that rest is a gift we already have.
Remember the sabbath and keep it holy. Slow down, and enjoy the good things in your life as a gift from God. Spend time with God and with those you love. Time is both a gift from God and a precious resource. Remember the sabbath, and keep it holy.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Where Was God? John 9:1-7 (Blackburn's Chapel)
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back and was able to see.
When you finished high school physics, did you think you would never have to recite Newton’s laws of motion again? So did I. That’s part of the reason I majored in humanities and not in the sciences. I was never going to balance another equation or determine the velocity of a watermelon seed spit by my cousin. But this morning, I need to review one of those laws with you. Finish Newton’s third law of motion for me: “For every action . . . . there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Whether they knew it or not, the disciples were articulating this law quite well in this morning’s Scripture passage. As they’re walking down the road, they ask Jesus a question. Spotting a man born blind, the wheels in their heads start turning. In their worldview, hardships are the result of sin. In fact, they are the direct result of sin. That is, some specific sin causes each specific hardship. It would be only logical, therefore, that the man’s blindness is the direct result of some specific sin.
The disciples question represents one end of the spectrum, in which we humans chart the course of our own destiny. Good things happen when we act righteously, bad things happen when we act sinfully. It’s a sort of a “What goes around comes around” flavor of theology. Before we get into too much of a rush to dismiss their question, we have to admit that a whole lot of what happens to us is the natural consequence of decisions and actions we’ve already made. If you choose to tell your significant other they look fat in whatever outfit they’re wearing today, there will be negative consequences directly related to your decision. If you choose to embezzle money from your employer, there will be negative consequences directly related to your decision. If I choose to regularly and excessively exceed the speed limit – now you know we’re dealing in the hypothetical – there will be negative consequences that even the combined legal powers of Four Eggers, PW Glidewell, Don Watson, and Jim Deal can’t get me out of. There are certainly a number of hardships that are the direct result of our own sin.
Before we dismiss the disciples’ question too quickly, the sins of our parents can also have a harmful effect on us. When a mother addicted to crack gives birth to a child, the child suffers the direct consequence of its parents’ sin. When parents spend all their money on their own selfish indulgences and there is nothing left to adequately feed, clothe, and shelter their children, children suffer the direct consequence of their parents’ sin.
At the other end of the spectrum is a theology in which God dictates the results of our lives. That is, God sets forces in motion and orders the world in such a way that only the results God desires actually happen. Indeed, St. Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans, “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” This premise is easily misinterpreted, however. We often hear that all things that happen to us are good, or that all things have a good in them. We can spend our lives trying to find the purpose behind every incident of pain and suffering. In this view, God sadistically places obstacles in our path in order to teach us something or make a point. Remember, according to this view, every instance of pain or suffering is there on purpose because some good is going to be worked out of it.
We see this viewpoint lived out when bad things happen to good people. It’s almost a default mode that we go into when there is unexplainable tragedy. When my mom was first diagnosed with aggressive stage 4 breast cancer in June of 2004 and even since then, I can’t tell you how many times I saw this lived out. As she kept a daily journal in those first few months and continued to keep it, she toyed with the idea of turning her daily musings into a book. One of the chapters in that book was going to be, “Stupid things people say when someone has cancer.” One of my personal favorites was, “I’m sure God did this for a reason.” I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “God didn’t do this! And if he did, that’s a God I don’t want anything to do with.”
These comments reflect a very popular theology that is widely held. When tragedy strikes, people are prone to just shrug their shoulders and say, “Everything happens for a reason.” Religious expressions of this popular theology would say, “I guess it must have been God’s will that this happened.”
I need to push back against that. This view says that everything that happens is God’s will. Every child who dies as a result of hunger does so at the will of God. Every time someone’s spouse comes homes drunk and beats them does so at the will of God. Every person who commits a rape or a murder does so at the will of God. You see why this breaks down. Pretty soon God is turned into a monster who intentionally calls down suffering on the world in order to accomplish something else. Quite frankly, if that was my view of God, I would have stopped believing in God a long time ago.
The theologian William Barclay lost his 20-year-old daughter in a horrible boating accident. Years later, he received an anonymous letter. “Dear Dr. Barclay, I know why God killed your daughter. It was to save her from corruption by your heresies.” “I wanted to write a letter back,” said Barclay. “Not in anger and fury, because that came and went in a flash. I wanted to write back in pity telling whomever ‘Your God is my devil. Your God is the God I don’t believe in.’”
Or, think about what gets said around other tragedies in which people specifically make God the author of suffering, always for some divine purpose. When a child dies, someone will inevitably say something like, “I guess God just needed another cherub in heaven.” Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. When the AIDS epidemic broke out 25 years ago, how many Christians rejoiced in what they perceived to be God’s judgment on homosexuals? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. On September 11, how many Christians announced that God was angry with us for coming loose from our moorings as a nation? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. How many Christians divide and separate, and sing wonderful songs of praise to God, yet bar from their pews anyone unlike them? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in.
God doesn’t give people cancer. God doesn’t cause traffic fatalities. God doesn’t inflict illness upon children. God doesn’t do to his children what we wouldn’t do to our children.
Here’s the reality. We live in a world in which the rain falls upon the just and the unjust alike. There is a great deal of suffering in the world. God is not the author of this suffering. God has not caused this suffering. So where is God in all this?
The scriptures tell us that God is kind. God is loving. God is merciful. God is compassionate. These things describe God’s nature. God does things that are consistent with these particular characteristics. Anything that falls outside the purview of love, or mercy, or compassion are not the work of God. God can still work in the midst of the greatest tragedy, but God has not caused them. God can still redeem good out of the jaws of the most tragic circumstance, but God did not commit the tragedy.
Back in our text today, why was the man born blind? Jesus tells us it was not because of anyone’s sin. He was not born blind as an object lesson. He was not born blind in order to teach us something. He was not born blind in order to be given sight.
Where was God in the story? God was being glorified. Whether the rain falls or the sun shines, whether the wind blows or the sky is calm, God is being glorified. Whether we are born blind or with sight, God is being glorified. Whether we suffer with cancer or live a long and healthy life, God is being glorified.
Where was God? God was being glorified. God was being glorified in the man’s blindness. God was being glorified in the man’s sight. God was being glorified in all the conditions and circumstances of the man’s life. In fact, later in this story, the man is brought before the Pharisees and religious leaders to give an account of his healing. They are concerned with procedure, offended by a healing taking place on the Sabbath. Indeed, God was being glorified, yet they failed to give glory to God and chose to focus on circumstances of little consequence.
In my mom’s battle with cancer, a battle that is slowly defeating her, where is God? Well, if we focused on the cancer itself, if we focused on this particular storm of life, it would be difficult to see God. But my mom has said, “I’m not going to be a victim to cancer. I am going to enjoy the people and the things in my life that bring me joy.” My mom has chosen to focus on the blessings in her life, in the midst of great pain and difficulty, instead of wallowing in her illness. Now, it still hurts. It’s still difficult. As a family, we’ve shed a lot of tears over the last five years, and we’ve grieved, knowing that cancer will eventually take my mom from us on this side of the resurrection.
Where is God in all that? Mom has used the events surrounding her cancer to minister to others. She has helped other people and their families going through what she has. She has shared her faith story with new boldness and clarity. She sees God all around – in her friendships and family relationships, in the beauty of creation, in the laughter of her grandchildren. As a family, the moments we have together have become all the more precious, and we recognize every additional day with her on this earth is a unique and precious blessing from God.
There is so much that is good in our lives, how can we not be grateful? God walks with us and will not let us go. God doesn’t do bad things to God’s children. God is our rock and refuge. And in the midst of suffering, we have an outlook on our suffering that says, “God, do something good with this. Help me to count my blessings and savor the joy I have each day.” Finally, we rest in God’s arms, knowing that we have a Father who loves us more than we could imagine or believe. As people of faith, that’s how we’re called to face those darkest and stormiest moments in our lives.
Perhaps the question to be considered this morning is not, “Where is God?” but rather, “Who is God?” I cannot believe in the God who loves pain. I shall never believe in the God who does not know how to hope. I cannot believe in the God who only cares about souls and not people, who is unmoved by human suffering or thinks it’s simply people getting their just desserts. I cannot believe in a God who is incapable of making all things new, who never weeps, who has no mystery, and is nothing more than a little more powerful, vindictive version of ourselves. I cannot believe in a God who is not love and does not transform everything he touches.
I believe in a different God. I believe in one who knows our suffering, who weeps with us in our suffering, who enters into our suffering with us. I believe in one who is with us in our suffering, and can still redeem even the most damaging and harmful acts for good. I believe in one who leads us through the valley of the shadow of death and teaches us not to fear evil. I believe in one who sets a table before us in the presence of our enemies, who calls us to this table, and who promises to strengthen our bonds with him and with each other in the breaking of this bread and the taking of this cup. That is my God and I shall have no other. Amen.
When you finished high school physics, did you think you would never have to recite Newton’s laws of motion again? So did I. That’s part of the reason I majored in humanities and not in the sciences. I was never going to balance another equation or determine the velocity of a watermelon seed spit by my cousin. But this morning, I need to review one of those laws with you. Finish Newton’s third law of motion for me: “For every action . . . . there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Whether they knew it or not, the disciples were articulating this law quite well in this morning’s Scripture passage. As they’re walking down the road, they ask Jesus a question. Spotting a man born blind, the wheels in their heads start turning. In their worldview, hardships are the result of sin. In fact, they are the direct result of sin. That is, some specific sin causes each specific hardship. It would be only logical, therefore, that the man’s blindness is the direct result of some specific sin.
The disciples question represents one end of the spectrum, in which we humans chart the course of our own destiny. Good things happen when we act righteously, bad things happen when we act sinfully. It’s a sort of a “What goes around comes around” flavor of theology. Before we get into too much of a rush to dismiss their question, we have to admit that a whole lot of what happens to us is the natural consequence of decisions and actions we’ve already made. If you choose to tell your significant other they look fat in whatever outfit they’re wearing today, there will be negative consequences directly related to your decision. If you choose to embezzle money from your employer, there will be negative consequences directly related to your decision. If I choose to regularly and excessively exceed the speed limit – now you know we’re dealing in the hypothetical – there will be negative consequences that even the combined legal powers of Four Eggers, PW Glidewell, Don Watson, and Jim Deal can’t get me out of. There are certainly a number of hardships that are the direct result of our own sin.
Before we dismiss the disciples’ question too quickly, the sins of our parents can also have a harmful effect on us. When a mother addicted to crack gives birth to a child, the child suffers the direct consequence of its parents’ sin. When parents spend all their money on their own selfish indulgences and there is nothing left to adequately feed, clothe, and shelter their children, children suffer the direct consequence of their parents’ sin.
At the other end of the spectrum is a theology in which God dictates the results of our lives. That is, God sets forces in motion and orders the world in such a way that only the results God desires actually happen. Indeed, St. Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans, “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” This premise is easily misinterpreted, however. We often hear that all things that happen to us are good, or that all things have a good in them. We can spend our lives trying to find the purpose behind every incident of pain and suffering. In this view, God sadistically places obstacles in our path in order to teach us something or make a point. Remember, according to this view, every instance of pain or suffering is there on purpose because some good is going to be worked out of it.
We see this viewpoint lived out when bad things happen to good people. It’s almost a default mode that we go into when there is unexplainable tragedy. When my mom was first diagnosed with aggressive stage 4 breast cancer in June of 2004 and even since then, I can’t tell you how many times I saw this lived out. As she kept a daily journal in those first few months and continued to keep it, she toyed with the idea of turning her daily musings into a book. One of the chapters in that book was going to be, “Stupid things people say when someone has cancer.” One of my personal favorites was, “I’m sure God did this for a reason.” I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “God didn’t do this! And if he did, that’s a God I don’t want anything to do with.”
These comments reflect a very popular theology that is widely held. When tragedy strikes, people are prone to just shrug their shoulders and say, “Everything happens for a reason.” Religious expressions of this popular theology would say, “I guess it must have been God’s will that this happened.”
I need to push back against that. This view says that everything that happens is God’s will. Every child who dies as a result of hunger does so at the will of God. Every time someone’s spouse comes homes drunk and beats them does so at the will of God. Every person who commits a rape or a murder does so at the will of God. You see why this breaks down. Pretty soon God is turned into a monster who intentionally calls down suffering on the world in order to accomplish something else. Quite frankly, if that was my view of God, I would have stopped believing in God a long time ago.
The theologian William Barclay lost his 20-year-old daughter in a horrible boating accident. Years later, he received an anonymous letter. “Dear Dr. Barclay, I know why God killed your daughter. It was to save her from corruption by your heresies.” “I wanted to write a letter back,” said Barclay. “Not in anger and fury, because that came and went in a flash. I wanted to write back in pity telling whomever ‘Your God is my devil. Your God is the God I don’t believe in.’”
Or, think about what gets said around other tragedies in which people specifically make God the author of suffering, always for some divine purpose. When a child dies, someone will inevitably say something like, “I guess God just needed another cherub in heaven.” Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. When the AIDS epidemic broke out 25 years ago, how many Christians rejoiced in what they perceived to be God’s judgment on homosexuals? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. On September 11, how many Christians announced that God was angry with us for coming loose from our moorings as a nation? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in. How many Christians divide and separate, and sing wonderful songs of praise to God, yet bar from their pews anyone unlike them? Theirs is the God I don’t believe in.
God doesn’t give people cancer. God doesn’t cause traffic fatalities. God doesn’t inflict illness upon children. God doesn’t do to his children what we wouldn’t do to our children.
Here’s the reality. We live in a world in which the rain falls upon the just and the unjust alike. There is a great deal of suffering in the world. God is not the author of this suffering. God has not caused this suffering. So where is God in all this?
The scriptures tell us that God is kind. God is loving. God is merciful. God is compassionate. These things describe God’s nature. God does things that are consistent with these particular characteristics. Anything that falls outside the purview of love, or mercy, or compassion are not the work of God. God can still work in the midst of the greatest tragedy, but God has not caused them. God can still redeem good out of the jaws of the most tragic circumstance, but God did not commit the tragedy.
Back in our text today, why was the man born blind? Jesus tells us it was not because of anyone’s sin. He was not born blind as an object lesson. He was not born blind in order to teach us something. He was not born blind in order to be given sight.
Where was God in the story? God was being glorified. Whether the rain falls or the sun shines, whether the wind blows or the sky is calm, God is being glorified. Whether we are born blind or with sight, God is being glorified. Whether we suffer with cancer or live a long and healthy life, God is being glorified.
Where was God? God was being glorified. God was being glorified in the man’s blindness. God was being glorified in the man’s sight. God was being glorified in all the conditions and circumstances of the man’s life. In fact, later in this story, the man is brought before the Pharisees and religious leaders to give an account of his healing. They are concerned with procedure, offended by a healing taking place on the Sabbath. Indeed, God was being glorified, yet they failed to give glory to God and chose to focus on circumstances of little consequence.
In my mom’s battle with cancer, a battle that is slowly defeating her, where is God? Well, if we focused on the cancer itself, if we focused on this particular storm of life, it would be difficult to see God. But my mom has said, “I’m not going to be a victim to cancer. I am going to enjoy the people and the things in my life that bring me joy.” My mom has chosen to focus on the blessings in her life, in the midst of great pain and difficulty, instead of wallowing in her illness. Now, it still hurts. It’s still difficult. As a family, we’ve shed a lot of tears over the last five years, and we’ve grieved, knowing that cancer will eventually take my mom from us on this side of the resurrection.
Where is God in all that? Mom has used the events surrounding her cancer to minister to others. She has helped other people and their families going through what she has. She has shared her faith story with new boldness and clarity. She sees God all around – in her friendships and family relationships, in the beauty of creation, in the laughter of her grandchildren. As a family, the moments we have together have become all the more precious, and we recognize every additional day with her on this earth is a unique and precious blessing from God.
There is so much that is good in our lives, how can we not be grateful? God walks with us and will not let us go. God doesn’t do bad things to God’s children. God is our rock and refuge. And in the midst of suffering, we have an outlook on our suffering that says, “God, do something good with this. Help me to count my blessings and savor the joy I have each day.” Finally, we rest in God’s arms, knowing that we have a Father who loves us more than we could imagine or believe. As people of faith, that’s how we’re called to face those darkest and stormiest moments in our lives.
Perhaps the question to be considered this morning is not, “Where is God?” but rather, “Who is God?” I cannot believe in the God who loves pain. I shall never believe in the God who does not know how to hope. I cannot believe in the God who only cares about souls and not people, who is unmoved by human suffering or thinks it’s simply people getting their just desserts. I cannot believe in a God who is incapable of making all things new, who never weeps, who has no mystery, and is nothing more than a little more powerful, vindictive version of ourselves. I cannot believe in a God who is not love and does not transform everything he touches.
I believe in a different God. I believe in one who knows our suffering, who weeps with us in our suffering, who enters into our suffering with us. I believe in one who is with us in our suffering, and can still redeem even the most damaging and harmful acts for good. I believe in one who leads us through the valley of the shadow of death and teaches us not to fear evil. I believe in one who sets a table before us in the presence of our enemies, who calls us to this table, and who promises to strengthen our bonds with him and with each other in the breaking of this bread and the taking of this cup. That is my God and I shall have no other. Amen.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Up and Away - Mark 1:14-20
Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.
Jesus was walking along the lake, and seeing the fishermen in their boats, he said, “Follow me,” and they did. Easier said than done! This week, I was staying with a friend in DC. Wednesday morning, we planned to go grab some breakfast and she wanted to show me her office. Since I was then leaving town and she was staying at work, we took separate cars. She hopped in her car and said, “Follow me!” Easier said than done.
We went across DC in morning rush-hour combined with however many million people trying to get out of DC after Tuesday’s events. There were accidents all over the place, stalled-out vehicles, and blocked intersections. As we drove across town, she forced her Honda Civic through places it was rude for one car to squeeze through, let alone two, especially when the second has out-of-town tags! Now, those of you who have ridden with me know that I have no problem being a bit “assertive” and pushing my car into places I need it to be, but even my limits were stretched on that. “Follow me!” she said, which is sometimes easier said than done. May we pray.
I love this passage of Scripture. I remember learning this one at a very young age in children’s church, and we had a song that went along with it and everything. As Mark tells it, it was all very simple. Jesus said, “Follow me!” and they did. Jesus said, “I will make you fish for people,” and they all nodded in agreement, as if they completely understood everything he was saying.
But I wonder if wasn’t more complicated than that. Mark, as you know, has a way of telling the story that sorta hits the highlights and moves on. I wonder if the disciples asked where they were going to be following? Or for how long? Or why they should follow him in the first place? I wonder how Zebedee felt when he watched his business succession plan drop their nets in the boat and walk off without even stamping their timecards. Who knows, maybe Zebedee was a bad father and a hard boss, and the boys were grateful for anything that took them away. I wonder if Simon Peter or Andrew or James or John stopped and said, “He’s going to make us fish for people? Does anyone know what he means by that? Are we going to be gone for just a couple of hours or what? And WHEN are we stopping to get something to eat?”
Mark doesn’t answer these questions—in fact, he is not even concerned with them. And really, for Mark, these few little verses are a transition – little more than a stopping point on the story to explain how a few followers ended up on the journey.
When Jesus calls these fishermen to follow him, to be his first disciples, we realize that we are being given a glimpse of the beginning of their journey with Jesus. Think of being one of Jesus’ disciples as a journey with Jesus. Journeys, as you know, have a starting point and a destination, but there is a whole lot that has to happen between those two things. This evening, for example, I have to drive to Jacksonville, Florida for a series of meetings. I have a beginning point in mind – Boone, NC. I have a destination in mind – Jacksonville, FL. But do you know what has to happen between Boone and Jacksonville? Several hours in the car, through very boring and mundane parts of South Carolina and Georgia. Eventually, I’ll arrive, but I won’t arrive there all at once. It will happen over time, mile by mile, as I close in on my destination.
I think it’s easier and more exciting to become a follower than it is to remain a follower. Becoming a follower of Jesus is pretty easy on day one. Or starting a new diet, or a new exercise regimen, or quitting smoking, or getting organized or any other new venture is always easiest on day one. Starting something is easy, but sticking to it and following through with it is a little more difficult.
Think of the commitment your most significant relationships take. With your partner, your children, your parents, your siblings – these relationships require constant commitment. When the relationship is new, it’s exciting, it’s fresh, it’s a constant adventure. But somewhere along the line, you get used to it. And, you may even begin to get bored with it. That’s where the commitment kicks in.
This is one of the things I stress to couples who are about to get married. A wedding, though it can be costly and somewhat stressful, is easy. But marriage can be more difficult. The wedding is fun—a great big party with all your friends and family, everyone dressed up in fine clothes, celebrating, happy, smiling—that’s just a fun occasion! But marriage—the day-to-day ins and outs of communicating, putting up with weird habits, and learning to place someone else’s needs higher than your own—that takes a lot of work. The wedding is the fun part, but marriage takes work. It takes daily commitment. It takes waking up every morning and saying “Today I am going to treat my partner with greater honor than I treat myself.”
That’s a big commitment. That’s a lot of communication. That’s a lot of willingness to say “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” That’s a lot of sticking together through days that aren’t all that exciting, through very mundane chores, through times of want and plenty, through times of joy and sorrow, through times of better and worse. It’s a commitment, and it takes some work.
A wedding is great, but you know what’s even better, in my opinion? A third anniversary. After about three years, the shiny has worn off. Things may not be as exciting any more. Quirks that used to be adorable are now annoying. A third anniversary is something that should be celebrated, and a 5th anniversary, and a 9th, and a 14th – these should be celebrated because they are reminders to us that two people have stuck it out through what may have been very difficult, painful, or just plain boring circumstances. I can still remember the party celebrating my grandparents’ 50th anniversary. Papa publicly thanked Grandma for 27 happy years of marriage.
By the way, I don’t recommend that. Members of my family delight in pushing my grandmother’s buttons just to get a reaction, and we all learned that from him. But it was also an honest admission that it wasn’t all wine and roses, but these two people chose to face it together instead of apart. They were in it for the long haul.
Jesus said he was going to make the disciples fishers of people. Now, many of you are probably familiar with catch and release fishing. This seems an odd practice to me. When I was growing up, we didn’t catch fish simply to throw them back in the lake. If you aren’t going to take it home and eat it, why would you want to catch it, torture it by poking holes in its lip, and then put it back in the water?
I wonder if that wouldn’t create a lake full of fish with low self-esteem and bad attitudes. You have to go back to your friends and family with holes all in your lip and explain that you weren’t good enough. They didn’t want to eat you. All your life you’ve wanted to grow up and feed a hungry family, and then you’re caught, they look you over, and throw you back in the water.
Can I tell you something about the way Jesus fishes? Jesus isn’t into “catch and release.” When Jesus catches you, he means business. Jesus cast his net and caught these fishermen up into the kingdom of God, and there was no looking back. And so it is with us. When Jesus catches you, he’s not offering you a leisurely vacation. He’s not catching you simply to throw you back into the water. When Jesus catches you, it means that he wants to keep you, that he is committed to you, that he makes an everlasting promise and covenant with you that begs your participation and cooperation.
This morning, we baptized Lydia Grace Dean. Her baptism marks the beginning of her journey with God, it marks when Jesus walked beside the lakeshore and called her name, it marks the day that she became a disciple of Jesus Christ. God is committed to her, and God asks us to commit to raising her and nurturing her in the Christian faith. And you know what? This is something that will happen daily. Today is not the end of the story! Baptism is the beginning of a journey, a time when God has said “yes” to each of us, and it anticipates the days and weeks and months and years of our continuing to say “yes” back to God.
Becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a one-time static event. So many times we act as if someone’s baptism, or their public profession of faith, or their salvation moment, or their heart being strangely warmed or however we choose to describe that experience is all that matters, when, in fact, that moment simply highlights an important part of their spiritual journey. Being a disciple is something that happens each and every day of our lives as we say “yes” and recommit ourselves to the life offered in Christ. People will sometimes ask when I became a disciple of Jesus Christ, and my answer has always been this: “I became a disciple of Jesus Christ at my baptism, and by the grace of God, each and every day since then.”
I’m sure that on that day beside the sea of Galilee, Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They had no idea what was about to unfold before them. I’m sure there were numerous times they were ready to walk away from the whole thing, ready to walk away from Jesus. And, quite honestly, there was nothing that forced them to stay.
But look at what they would have missed out on. They would have missed out on the teachings, and the healings, and the miracles. They would have missed out on a vision of the kingdom of God that was broad and glorious, a vision of the kingdom of God that cast a wide net and invited the whole world to come and be part of God’s family.
Friends, when Jesus goes fishing, he’s not into catch and release. When he catches you, he wants you to be a child of God. He wants you to be one of his disciples. He wants to pull you up out of the water and away from its murky depths. He wants you on his fishing crew, casting his net far and wide, a fishing crew that doesn’t only work weekends, or who plays catch and release, who pick and choose among all those who are dying to know God. Our calling is to cast the net and let God do the sorting. We don’t have the freedom to decide who gets to be loved and accepted and called by God. We don’t have the leisure to say, “He’s no good. She’s no good. Throw ‘em back in.”
Brothers and sisters, the time for picking and choosing is over. Now is the time for inviting everyone we find – the good and the bad, those who smell good and those who smell bad, rich and poor, black and white, those whom we like and those whom we don’t, Republicans and Democrats and Independents, Carolina fans and Duke fans and Wake Forest fans and State fans and even Florida and Boston College fans, those who are popular and those who are unloved, the educated and the simple, the cultured and the unrefined—everyone—we are called to invite everyone into God’s presence, to cast our net wide and haul them all in and then let the Master Fisherman figure out what He’s going to do with all of ‘em once they’re in the boat.
No wonder you can’t do this job part-time. It just shows that a relationship with Jesus, like any other relationship, is a continual, daily, intense thing. There are times it’s going to be hard and challenging and gut-wrenching. There are times when people will say all sorts of things about you. There are times you’ll be absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed by the enormity of the family business.
But look at the payoff. You’ll see it in the eyes of people who never considered that they could possibly be loved or accepted by God. I was discussing this text with Brooke Newsome earlier in the week. Some of you know Brooke. She graduated from ASU last May. She was active in the ministry of the Wesley Foundation, and she became an affiliate member of this church during her time in Boone. She’s now a full-time missionary through the United Methodist Church’s US-2 program, and is in the middle of a 2-year placement at Cunningham Children’s Home in Urbana, Illinois. Many of the kids have been in and out of multiple foster homes and juvenile detention facilities. About 75% of these kids have been sexually abused. All but two are on daily pshychotropic drugs. They are kids society would have otherwise given up on, kids who thought that God could never call their name or have any desire to fish for them.
But through the work of Brooke and the rest of the staff and volunteers, these kids are discovering what it means to be made in the image of God, how much they are loved and valued by the Master Fisherman. She said, “you have no idea what it means to these kids when they have been unloved and unwanted all their lives, and they realize that God not only loves them, but wants them in his net.”
Friends, I realize that we all have our own stuff going on, and our experiences with God have all been different. Maybe God called your name a long time ago, and you walked together, but you’ve been gone for awhile. God wants you back. Or maybe you’ve never really thought that God or anyone else could love you, and you’ve kept your distance. God wants you, too. Or maybe even Christians or some Church somewhere told you that you were outside the reach of God’s net, that God didn’t love you, or that you were somehow a second-class citizen in God’s plan. That’s simply not true. God wants you, too.
Jesus continues to walk the shores of our lives, calling each of our names, and inviting us to be caught up in his net. He wants each and every one of us on his fishing crew, casting the net far and wide – touching every person with his love and grace.
Jesus was walking along the lake, and seeing the fishermen in their boats, he said, “Follow me,” and they did. Easier said than done! This week, I was staying with a friend in DC. Wednesday morning, we planned to go grab some breakfast and she wanted to show me her office. Since I was then leaving town and she was staying at work, we took separate cars. She hopped in her car and said, “Follow me!” Easier said than done.
We went across DC in morning rush-hour combined with however many million people trying to get out of DC after Tuesday’s events. There were accidents all over the place, stalled-out vehicles, and blocked intersections. As we drove across town, she forced her Honda Civic through places it was rude for one car to squeeze through, let alone two, especially when the second has out-of-town tags! Now, those of you who have ridden with me know that I have no problem being a bit “assertive” and pushing my car into places I need it to be, but even my limits were stretched on that. “Follow me!” she said, which is sometimes easier said than done. May we pray.
I love this passage of Scripture. I remember learning this one at a very young age in children’s church, and we had a song that went along with it and everything. As Mark tells it, it was all very simple. Jesus said, “Follow me!” and they did. Jesus said, “I will make you fish for people,” and they all nodded in agreement, as if they completely understood everything he was saying.
But I wonder if wasn’t more complicated than that. Mark, as you know, has a way of telling the story that sorta hits the highlights and moves on. I wonder if the disciples asked where they were going to be following? Or for how long? Or why they should follow him in the first place? I wonder how Zebedee felt when he watched his business succession plan drop their nets in the boat and walk off without even stamping their timecards. Who knows, maybe Zebedee was a bad father and a hard boss, and the boys were grateful for anything that took them away. I wonder if Simon Peter or Andrew or James or John stopped and said, “He’s going to make us fish for people? Does anyone know what he means by that? Are we going to be gone for just a couple of hours or what? And WHEN are we stopping to get something to eat?”
Mark doesn’t answer these questions—in fact, he is not even concerned with them. And really, for Mark, these few little verses are a transition – little more than a stopping point on the story to explain how a few followers ended up on the journey.
When Jesus calls these fishermen to follow him, to be his first disciples, we realize that we are being given a glimpse of the beginning of their journey with Jesus. Think of being one of Jesus’ disciples as a journey with Jesus. Journeys, as you know, have a starting point and a destination, but there is a whole lot that has to happen between those two things. This evening, for example, I have to drive to Jacksonville, Florida for a series of meetings. I have a beginning point in mind – Boone, NC. I have a destination in mind – Jacksonville, FL. But do you know what has to happen between Boone and Jacksonville? Several hours in the car, through very boring and mundane parts of South Carolina and Georgia. Eventually, I’ll arrive, but I won’t arrive there all at once. It will happen over time, mile by mile, as I close in on my destination.
I think it’s easier and more exciting to become a follower than it is to remain a follower. Becoming a follower of Jesus is pretty easy on day one. Or starting a new diet, or a new exercise regimen, or quitting smoking, or getting organized or any other new venture is always easiest on day one. Starting something is easy, but sticking to it and following through with it is a little more difficult.
Think of the commitment your most significant relationships take. With your partner, your children, your parents, your siblings – these relationships require constant commitment. When the relationship is new, it’s exciting, it’s fresh, it’s a constant adventure. But somewhere along the line, you get used to it. And, you may even begin to get bored with it. That’s where the commitment kicks in.
This is one of the things I stress to couples who are about to get married. A wedding, though it can be costly and somewhat stressful, is easy. But marriage can be more difficult. The wedding is fun—a great big party with all your friends and family, everyone dressed up in fine clothes, celebrating, happy, smiling—that’s just a fun occasion! But marriage—the day-to-day ins and outs of communicating, putting up with weird habits, and learning to place someone else’s needs higher than your own—that takes a lot of work. The wedding is the fun part, but marriage takes work. It takes daily commitment. It takes waking up every morning and saying “Today I am going to treat my partner with greater honor than I treat myself.”
That’s a big commitment. That’s a lot of communication. That’s a lot of willingness to say “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” That’s a lot of sticking together through days that aren’t all that exciting, through very mundane chores, through times of want and plenty, through times of joy and sorrow, through times of better and worse. It’s a commitment, and it takes some work.
A wedding is great, but you know what’s even better, in my opinion? A third anniversary. After about three years, the shiny has worn off. Things may not be as exciting any more. Quirks that used to be adorable are now annoying. A third anniversary is something that should be celebrated, and a 5th anniversary, and a 9th, and a 14th – these should be celebrated because they are reminders to us that two people have stuck it out through what may have been very difficult, painful, or just plain boring circumstances. I can still remember the party celebrating my grandparents’ 50th anniversary. Papa publicly thanked Grandma for 27 happy years of marriage.
By the way, I don’t recommend that. Members of my family delight in pushing my grandmother’s buttons just to get a reaction, and we all learned that from him. But it was also an honest admission that it wasn’t all wine and roses, but these two people chose to face it together instead of apart. They were in it for the long haul.
Jesus said he was going to make the disciples fishers of people. Now, many of you are probably familiar with catch and release fishing. This seems an odd practice to me. When I was growing up, we didn’t catch fish simply to throw them back in the lake. If you aren’t going to take it home and eat it, why would you want to catch it, torture it by poking holes in its lip, and then put it back in the water?
I wonder if that wouldn’t create a lake full of fish with low self-esteem and bad attitudes. You have to go back to your friends and family with holes all in your lip and explain that you weren’t good enough. They didn’t want to eat you. All your life you’ve wanted to grow up and feed a hungry family, and then you’re caught, they look you over, and throw you back in the water.
Can I tell you something about the way Jesus fishes? Jesus isn’t into “catch and release.” When Jesus catches you, he means business. Jesus cast his net and caught these fishermen up into the kingdom of God, and there was no looking back. And so it is with us. When Jesus catches you, he’s not offering you a leisurely vacation. He’s not catching you simply to throw you back into the water. When Jesus catches you, it means that he wants to keep you, that he is committed to you, that he makes an everlasting promise and covenant with you that begs your participation and cooperation.
This morning, we baptized Lydia Grace Dean. Her baptism marks the beginning of her journey with God, it marks when Jesus walked beside the lakeshore and called her name, it marks the day that she became a disciple of Jesus Christ. God is committed to her, and God asks us to commit to raising her and nurturing her in the Christian faith. And you know what? This is something that will happen daily. Today is not the end of the story! Baptism is the beginning of a journey, a time when God has said “yes” to each of us, and it anticipates the days and weeks and months and years of our continuing to say “yes” back to God.
Becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a one-time static event. So many times we act as if someone’s baptism, or their public profession of faith, or their salvation moment, or their heart being strangely warmed or however we choose to describe that experience is all that matters, when, in fact, that moment simply highlights an important part of their spiritual journey. Being a disciple is something that happens each and every day of our lives as we say “yes” and recommit ourselves to the life offered in Christ. People will sometimes ask when I became a disciple of Jesus Christ, and my answer has always been this: “I became a disciple of Jesus Christ at my baptism, and by the grace of God, each and every day since then.”
I’m sure that on that day beside the sea of Galilee, Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They had no idea what was about to unfold before them. I’m sure there were numerous times they were ready to walk away from the whole thing, ready to walk away from Jesus. And, quite honestly, there was nothing that forced them to stay.
But look at what they would have missed out on. They would have missed out on the teachings, and the healings, and the miracles. They would have missed out on a vision of the kingdom of God that was broad and glorious, a vision of the kingdom of God that cast a wide net and invited the whole world to come and be part of God’s family.
Friends, when Jesus goes fishing, he’s not into catch and release. When he catches you, he wants you to be a child of God. He wants you to be one of his disciples. He wants to pull you up out of the water and away from its murky depths. He wants you on his fishing crew, casting his net far and wide, a fishing crew that doesn’t only work weekends, or who plays catch and release, who pick and choose among all those who are dying to know God. Our calling is to cast the net and let God do the sorting. We don’t have the freedom to decide who gets to be loved and accepted and called by God. We don’t have the leisure to say, “He’s no good. She’s no good. Throw ‘em back in.”
Brothers and sisters, the time for picking and choosing is over. Now is the time for inviting everyone we find – the good and the bad, those who smell good and those who smell bad, rich and poor, black and white, those whom we like and those whom we don’t, Republicans and Democrats and Independents, Carolina fans and Duke fans and Wake Forest fans and State fans and even Florida and Boston College fans, those who are popular and those who are unloved, the educated and the simple, the cultured and the unrefined—everyone—we are called to invite everyone into God’s presence, to cast our net wide and haul them all in and then let the Master Fisherman figure out what He’s going to do with all of ‘em once they’re in the boat.
No wonder you can’t do this job part-time. It just shows that a relationship with Jesus, like any other relationship, is a continual, daily, intense thing. There are times it’s going to be hard and challenging and gut-wrenching. There are times when people will say all sorts of things about you. There are times you’ll be absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed by the enormity of the family business.
But look at the payoff. You’ll see it in the eyes of people who never considered that they could possibly be loved or accepted by God. I was discussing this text with Brooke Newsome earlier in the week. Some of you know Brooke. She graduated from ASU last May. She was active in the ministry of the Wesley Foundation, and she became an affiliate member of this church during her time in Boone. She’s now a full-time missionary through the United Methodist Church’s US-2 program, and is in the middle of a 2-year placement at Cunningham Children’s Home in Urbana, Illinois. Many of the kids have been in and out of multiple foster homes and juvenile detention facilities. About 75% of these kids have been sexually abused. All but two are on daily pshychotropic drugs. They are kids society would have otherwise given up on, kids who thought that God could never call their name or have any desire to fish for them.
But through the work of Brooke and the rest of the staff and volunteers, these kids are discovering what it means to be made in the image of God, how much they are loved and valued by the Master Fisherman. She said, “you have no idea what it means to these kids when they have been unloved and unwanted all their lives, and they realize that God not only loves them, but wants them in his net.”
Friends, I realize that we all have our own stuff going on, and our experiences with God have all been different. Maybe God called your name a long time ago, and you walked together, but you’ve been gone for awhile. God wants you back. Or maybe you’ve never really thought that God or anyone else could love you, and you’ve kept your distance. God wants you, too. Or maybe even Christians or some Church somewhere told you that you were outside the reach of God’s net, that God didn’t love you, or that you were somehow a second-class citizen in God’s plan. That’s simply not true. God wants you, too.
Jesus continues to walk the shores of our lives, calling each of our names, and inviting us to be caught up in his net. He wants each and every one of us on his fishing crew, casting the net far and wide – touching every person with his love and grace.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Deep End - Mark 1:4-11 (Blackburn's Chapel)
This morning is “Baptism of the Lord Sunday,” which, as you have probably already figured out, means we’re going to be talking about Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan by John and also our own baptism. You can see the font is right here in a prominent place, reminding us of baptism throughout the entire service. Right after the sermon, we’ll have an opportunity to reaffirm our baptismal covenant, to recommit ourselves to the great work that God is doing within us, and you’re all invited to be part of that.
Now, as we talk about baptism, you have to realize that this is a topic that also brings out a great many of my gratuitous bad preacher jokes. Indulge me in this one: The Baptist and Methodist were arguing yet again about baptism, as Baptists and Methodists are prone to do when they get together. The Baptist insisted that anyone who received baptism by sprinkling wasn’t actually baptized. “You have to be immersed,” he insisted. The Methodist thought for a minute. “What if you go in up to your knees?” “Not good enough,” came the reply. “What about your waist?” “Still not good enough.” “What if you go in up to your chest, surely that has to count for something!” The Baptist held fast to his argument. “Still not good enough. Unless the top of your head gets wet, it doesn’t count.” The Methodist grinned and said, “Terrific! That’s the part we baptize!”
OK – time to lay bad jokes aside. Let’s turn to today’s Scripture reading:
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Thus begins the Gospel according to St. Mark. Matthew and Luke begin with events that naturally flow into Jesus’ birth, John begins with a theological dissertation that attempts to use our finite language to describe the infinite nature of God.
But not Mark. See if this sounds familiar. Mark begins out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Mark begins off the beaten track, beyond the end of the bus route, outside the reach of the cell phone towers. Mark begins on the banks of a narrow, shallow river in a place that is barely a wide spot on an infrequently-traveled road. May we pray.
It is commonly accepted that Mark is the oldest Gospel. These words we have just read are the first words to be written down about Jesus. When I sit down to write a sermon, the beginning point is often the toughest part. By the time I have finished reading and studying and researching, I have a general idea of what I want to say. I know the main point I intend to make. I know much of the content I want to cover. I have an idea what illustrations and stories and jokes I’ll use. I know how I want you to respond, and I know what I want the “take-home” assignment to be. But boy, that beginning point is hard. I know that I’ve got a limited window to capture your attention. I want to set the scene for you, and allow you to imagine with me where we’re going to be headed over the course of the next 20 minutes. Sometimes I want to make you laugh, sometimes I want to make you cry, sometimes I want to make you think, and sometimes I simply want to make you wonder. I know the rules of good communication, that I am supposed to tell you what I’m going to say, and then say it, and then tell you what I just said.
Granted my grandfather had a different rule of three. He said, “A good preacher should stand up to be seen, speak up to be heard, and shut up to be appreciated.” He also shared several other axioms with me as I grew up. One time, he told me, “You know, I’ve heard plenty of good 15-minute sermons given in 45.” And another time, “that preacher sure passed up a lot of good stopping points.”
I imagine that, for Mark, as he sat down to write this Gospel, he thought long and hard about what he wanted the Church to know about Jesus. I imagine he thought, “What’s the most important thing I want to say about Jesus? What’s the first thing I want them to know?”
And so, I think this starting point of Mark, Jesus’ baptism in the country at age 30, this beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, was a carefully chosen event. That is not to say that everything that happened before Jesus’ baptism is unimportant or insignificant, but for Mark, the real life of the story begins at baptism.
Perhaps Mark is making more of a theological point here than we first gave credit. Because for those who claim the name of Christian, our spiritual lives also begin at baptism. And there are three components to that spiritual life that I want us to focus on today.
The first is cleansing. It may seem obvious here, but water is used to clean. Have you ever had the experience of getting really nasty, dirty, sweaty somewhere and then having an opportunity to take a bath? I remember back when I was about 14 years old, our church youth group went to a youth convention in Fort Collins, Colorado. With several other churches, we chartered three tour buses to make the drive from Niagara Falls to Colorado. I don’t know if you’ve ever made that drive, but it’s about 36 hours straight.
We left at midnight between Sunday and Monday, and arrived shortly after noon on Tuesday. Now, it was the end of July. Even in western New York, it is hot at the end of July, and much like around here, not everyone has air conditioning, including my family. I was 14, my glands were working overtime, and I hadn’t yet realized that you could take showers at times other than the beginning of the day. I was still trying to figure out that whole ratio of how much deodorant and cologne you’re supposed to wear. In those days, I was wearing too little of one, and too much of the other. So, after what had already been a long, hot, sweaty day, I climbed aboard a tour bus for a 36-hour ride. I was pretty gross when I got on the bus; you can imagine how nasty I was when we finally got to Colorado.
The first thing I did after we checked into the dorms was to take a long, hot shower. I stood there under water that normally would have been way too hot and felt it pour over me, just washing the grime and filth and nastiness away. I distinctly remember thinking that no shower or bath in all my life to that point had felt so good.
I think that’s sorta what baptism does for us. But instead of washing away the grime on the outside, it makes us new on the inside. It does beg the question, though, does more water equal more cleansing? This is a question Christians have argued about and divided over throughout the centuries. Which is the right way? Dunking? Sprinkling? Pouring? Does more water equal more covenant? Does less water mean less of God’s grace?
You already know the answer to this. The power in baptism does not increase because you used a waterfall or a firehose. The power in baptism does not come from Pastor A.J. or Reverend So-and-so or Preacher Whats-his-name or even John the Baptist. The power comes from God. The power comes when we link up God’s Spirit and life-giving Word with simple things. Spirit + Word + Water = Baptism. Spirit + Word + bread and wine = Communion. It is God who does the good work within us and through us and on our behalf.
That brings us to the second aspect of what baptism is. First, as we’ve just said, it’s cleansing. Secondly, it’s claiming. In today’s Gospel reading, Mark tells us that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus at his baptism and a voice was heard from heaven: “This is my beloved son.” Baptism is a time when God claims us, places a mark on us, if you will, as members of the family God.
Did you know that I have never performed a Methodist baptism? It’s true. I only perform Christian baptisms. Baptism claims people as Christians in the name of God, not as members of a particular denomination. There is no such thing as a Methodist baptism, or a Baptist baptism, or a Lutheran baptism, or a Presbyterian baptism, or a Catholic baptism, or a Biblical baptism. There is only one baptism – a Christian baptism. Baptism claims each of us as belonging to God in Christ.
You all remember several years when the Harry Potter craze hit. I had several people who wanted to know what the church’s stance on Harry Potter was. I thought, “Our stance?” The comment came from people who were concerned that Harry Potter was going to teach impressionable children about witchcraft and sorcery. Now, I happen to think Harry Potter is a great story that teaches a whole lot of other things about life, and coming of age, and difficult family circumstances, and meaningful relationships and friendships; how evil it is depends on how evil you choose to make it. There, that’s my stance on Harry Potter!
You may remember that in the story, Harry is scarred on his forehead as an infant, and that because of that scar, or that mark, he has a very specific role in overcoming the forces of evil. In that mark, a claim is made on his life. If you can understand that, then you can understand the similar way God marks us and claims us as His own in baptism. Baptism seals us with a new identity as God claims us as members of His family. As God did with Jesus, God looks at each of us and says, “This is my beloved daughter.” “This is my beloved son.” Baptism marks the beginning of a brand new life that belongs to God.
And it is belonging to God that brings us to the third aspect of what baptism accomplishes. First, it cleanses us from the inside out. Second, it claims us as God’s own. Third, it commissions us to participate in God’s ministry.
Do you remember learning to swim? Maybe you took lessons. Maybe you had a family member or friend who guided you through the process. Maybe your experience was like mine, in which an older sibling took it as their responsibility to throw you in the deep end. Regardless of what your experience was, there is one critical thing you have to do to learn how to swim. At some point, you have to get in the water. On the sideline, you can practice technique, perfect your stroke, and learn how to breathe. But at some point, what makes you a swimmer is that you actually get in the water.
The Christian life is the same way. You can’t be a Christian from the sidelines. You have to live the life God has called you to lead—a life of healing the sick, and welcoming the stranger, and feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked—a life of sharing the good news anywhere and through every means you can.
God wants you in the water. God wants you in ministry. It is not only pastors and missionaries and other so-called “professional” ministers who do God’s work. In baptism, God cleanses us, and claims us as members of his family, and then commissions us with the work of that family. Jesus said he was on earth to be about his Father’s business, and that’s exactly what we, as his followers, are to be about as well. Look around, and you will see opportunities for ministry everywhere. There are always people in need of God’s love and healing and grace; there are always people to whom we can be the hands and feet of Christ.
It’s a commission that comes with a promise. Jesus told us to baptize and make disciples, and promised that he would be with us, even unto the very end of the age. In his writings, St. Paul says that God, who began the good work within us by claiming us as His own at baptism, would see the work through. We are not in this alone, but we work as members of God’s family, united with Christ, and united with one another.
Perhaps you are here this morning and you have never been baptized. If that’s the case, I want to talk with you. Baptism is a huge, life-giving commitment to God, and I would be honored to help you make that commitment.
For those who have been baptized, I want to give you a chance to reaffirm the covenant made at your baptism, however long ago that was. Think of this as being similar to renewing your marriage vows. From time to time, married couples renew their vows, not in order to be re-married, but as a way of recommitting themselves to one another. So too, in renewing our baptismal vows we each have the opportunity to recommit ourselves to God. You’ll see in your bulletin that I am about to ask you the same vows that were made at your baptism. Then, if you choose, you are invited to come forward, where I will touch the water and then make the sign of the cross on your forehead and say, “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”
I invite you now to take advantage of this opportunity to recommit yourselves to Christ, as you remember that God continues to cleanse you, has claimed you as His own, and commissioned you for a life in ministry in service to the world.
Now, as we talk about baptism, you have to realize that this is a topic that also brings out a great many of my gratuitous bad preacher jokes. Indulge me in this one: The Baptist and Methodist were arguing yet again about baptism, as Baptists and Methodists are prone to do when they get together. The Baptist insisted that anyone who received baptism by sprinkling wasn’t actually baptized. “You have to be immersed,” he insisted. The Methodist thought for a minute. “What if you go in up to your knees?” “Not good enough,” came the reply. “What about your waist?” “Still not good enough.” “What if you go in up to your chest, surely that has to count for something!” The Baptist held fast to his argument. “Still not good enough. Unless the top of your head gets wet, it doesn’t count.” The Methodist grinned and said, “Terrific! That’s the part we baptize!”
OK – time to lay bad jokes aside. Let’s turn to today’s Scripture reading:
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Thus begins the Gospel according to St. Mark. Matthew and Luke begin with events that naturally flow into Jesus’ birth, John begins with a theological dissertation that attempts to use our finite language to describe the infinite nature of God.
But not Mark. See if this sounds familiar. Mark begins out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Mark begins off the beaten track, beyond the end of the bus route, outside the reach of the cell phone towers. Mark begins on the banks of a narrow, shallow river in a place that is barely a wide spot on an infrequently-traveled road. May we pray.
It is commonly accepted that Mark is the oldest Gospel. These words we have just read are the first words to be written down about Jesus. When I sit down to write a sermon, the beginning point is often the toughest part. By the time I have finished reading and studying and researching, I have a general idea of what I want to say. I know the main point I intend to make. I know much of the content I want to cover. I have an idea what illustrations and stories and jokes I’ll use. I know how I want you to respond, and I know what I want the “take-home” assignment to be. But boy, that beginning point is hard. I know that I’ve got a limited window to capture your attention. I want to set the scene for you, and allow you to imagine with me where we’re going to be headed over the course of the next 20 minutes. Sometimes I want to make you laugh, sometimes I want to make you cry, sometimes I want to make you think, and sometimes I simply want to make you wonder. I know the rules of good communication, that I am supposed to tell you what I’m going to say, and then say it, and then tell you what I just said.
Granted my grandfather had a different rule of three. He said, “A good preacher should stand up to be seen, speak up to be heard, and shut up to be appreciated.” He also shared several other axioms with me as I grew up. One time, he told me, “You know, I’ve heard plenty of good 15-minute sermons given in 45.” And another time, “that preacher sure passed up a lot of good stopping points.”
I imagine that, for Mark, as he sat down to write this Gospel, he thought long and hard about what he wanted the Church to know about Jesus. I imagine he thought, “What’s the most important thing I want to say about Jesus? What’s the first thing I want them to know?”
And so, I think this starting point of Mark, Jesus’ baptism in the country at age 30, this beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, was a carefully chosen event. That is not to say that everything that happened before Jesus’ baptism is unimportant or insignificant, but for Mark, the real life of the story begins at baptism.
Perhaps Mark is making more of a theological point here than we first gave credit. Because for those who claim the name of Christian, our spiritual lives also begin at baptism. And there are three components to that spiritual life that I want us to focus on today.
The first is cleansing. It may seem obvious here, but water is used to clean. Have you ever had the experience of getting really nasty, dirty, sweaty somewhere and then having an opportunity to take a bath? I remember back when I was about 14 years old, our church youth group went to a youth convention in Fort Collins, Colorado. With several other churches, we chartered three tour buses to make the drive from Niagara Falls to Colorado. I don’t know if you’ve ever made that drive, but it’s about 36 hours straight.
We left at midnight between Sunday and Monday, and arrived shortly after noon on Tuesday. Now, it was the end of July. Even in western New York, it is hot at the end of July, and much like around here, not everyone has air conditioning, including my family. I was 14, my glands were working overtime, and I hadn’t yet realized that you could take showers at times other than the beginning of the day. I was still trying to figure out that whole ratio of how much deodorant and cologne you’re supposed to wear. In those days, I was wearing too little of one, and too much of the other. So, after what had already been a long, hot, sweaty day, I climbed aboard a tour bus for a 36-hour ride. I was pretty gross when I got on the bus; you can imagine how nasty I was when we finally got to Colorado.
The first thing I did after we checked into the dorms was to take a long, hot shower. I stood there under water that normally would have been way too hot and felt it pour over me, just washing the grime and filth and nastiness away. I distinctly remember thinking that no shower or bath in all my life to that point had felt so good.
I think that’s sorta what baptism does for us. But instead of washing away the grime on the outside, it makes us new on the inside. It does beg the question, though, does more water equal more cleansing? This is a question Christians have argued about and divided over throughout the centuries. Which is the right way? Dunking? Sprinkling? Pouring? Does more water equal more covenant? Does less water mean less of God’s grace?
You already know the answer to this. The power in baptism does not increase because you used a waterfall or a firehose. The power in baptism does not come from Pastor A.J. or Reverend So-and-so or Preacher Whats-his-name or even John the Baptist. The power comes from God. The power comes when we link up God’s Spirit and life-giving Word with simple things. Spirit + Word + Water = Baptism. Spirit + Word + bread and wine = Communion. It is God who does the good work within us and through us and on our behalf.
That brings us to the second aspect of what baptism is. First, as we’ve just said, it’s cleansing. Secondly, it’s claiming. In today’s Gospel reading, Mark tells us that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus at his baptism and a voice was heard from heaven: “This is my beloved son.” Baptism is a time when God claims us, places a mark on us, if you will, as members of the family God.
Did you know that I have never performed a Methodist baptism? It’s true. I only perform Christian baptisms. Baptism claims people as Christians in the name of God, not as members of a particular denomination. There is no such thing as a Methodist baptism, or a Baptist baptism, or a Lutheran baptism, or a Presbyterian baptism, or a Catholic baptism, or a Biblical baptism. There is only one baptism – a Christian baptism. Baptism claims each of us as belonging to God in Christ.
You all remember several years when the Harry Potter craze hit. I had several people who wanted to know what the church’s stance on Harry Potter was. I thought, “Our stance?” The comment came from people who were concerned that Harry Potter was going to teach impressionable children about witchcraft and sorcery. Now, I happen to think Harry Potter is a great story that teaches a whole lot of other things about life, and coming of age, and difficult family circumstances, and meaningful relationships and friendships; how evil it is depends on how evil you choose to make it. There, that’s my stance on Harry Potter!
You may remember that in the story, Harry is scarred on his forehead as an infant, and that because of that scar, or that mark, he has a very specific role in overcoming the forces of evil. In that mark, a claim is made on his life. If you can understand that, then you can understand the similar way God marks us and claims us as His own in baptism. Baptism seals us with a new identity as God claims us as members of His family. As God did with Jesus, God looks at each of us and says, “This is my beloved daughter.” “This is my beloved son.” Baptism marks the beginning of a brand new life that belongs to God.
And it is belonging to God that brings us to the third aspect of what baptism accomplishes. First, it cleanses us from the inside out. Second, it claims us as God’s own. Third, it commissions us to participate in God’s ministry.
Do you remember learning to swim? Maybe you took lessons. Maybe you had a family member or friend who guided you through the process. Maybe your experience was like mine, in which an older sibling took it as their responsibility to throw you in the deep end. Regardless of what your experience was, there is one critical thing you have to do to learn how to swim. At some point, you have to get in the water. On the sideline, you can practice technique, perfect your stroke, and learn how to breathe. But at some point, what makes you a swimmer is that you actually get in the water.
The Christian life is the same way. You can’t be a Christian from the sidelines. You have to live the life God has called you to lead—a life of healing the sick, and welcoming the stranger, and feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked—a life of sharing the good news anywhere and through every means you can.
God wants you in the water. God wants you in ministry. It is not only pastors and missionaries and other so-called “professional” ministers who do God’s work. In baptism, God cleanses us, and claims us as members of his family, and then commissions us with the work of that family. Jesus said he was on earth to be about his Father’s business, and that’s exactly what we, as his followers, are to be about as well. Look around, and you will see opportunities for ministry everywhere. There are always people in need of God’s love and healing and grace; there are always people to whom we can be the hands and feet of Christ.
It’s a commission that comes with a promise. Jesus told us to baptize and make disciples, and promised that he would be with us, even unto the very end of the age. In his writings, St. Paul says that God, who began the good work within us by claiming us as His own at baptism, would see the work through. We are not in this alone, but we work as members of God’s family, united with Christ, and united with one another.
Perhaps you are here this morning and you have never been baptized. If that’s the case, I want to talk with you. Baptism is a huge, life-giving commitment to God, and I would be honored to help you make that commitment.
For those who have been baptized, I want to give you a chance to reaffirm the covenant made at your baptism, however long ago that was. Think of this as being similar to renewing your marriage vows. From time to time, married couples renew their vows, not in order to be re-married, but as a way of recommitting themselves to one another. So too, in renewing our baptismal vows we each have the opportunity to recommit ourselves to God. You’ll see in your bulletin that I am about to ask you the same vows that were made at your baptism. Then, if you choose, you are invited to come forward, where I will touch the water and then make the sign of the cross on your forehead and say, “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”
I invite you now to take advantage of this opportunity to recommit yourselves to Christ, as you remember that God continues to cleanse you, has claimed you as His own, and commissioned you for a life in ministry in service to the world.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
He's Not Mine! - Matthew 1:18-25 (Blackburn's Chapel)
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband, Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.
In 1968, The Zombies put out a song called “Time of the Season.” One of the most memorable lines from that song is, “What’s your name? Who’s your daddy? Is he rich like me?” According to the online source of all things reliable and true, Wikipedia.org, use of the phrase, “Who’s your Daddy,” enjoyed popularity among radio shock jocks in the late 1980s, but gained widespread use during the early 1990s. According to Wikipedia, it is “a slang expression that enjoys the form of a rhetorical question. Use of the phrase implies a boastful claim of dominance over the intended listener. One variant commonly aimed at residents of Indiana is ‘Hoosier Daddy.’”
If any of you have met my father, there is no denying the family resemblance. It is very clear, just in looking at the two of us, that I am my father’s son. In fact, you could look at photos of us taken at the same ages, and they look remarkably similar, with the exception of different hairstyles and clothing. Whenever I would leave the house, my parents would remind me, “Remember who are, and who you’re related to.” A great deal of our identity is based on the simple fact of who our parents are. Rightly or wrongly, people will make judgments about us based on who our family is, or where we come from, or what associations we maintain. By knowing the answer to the question, “Who’s your Daddy?”, people can make some pretty clear assumptions about who we are. Knowing our origins can tell others a lot about ourselves, and it’s also interesting to know where we, ourselves, have come from. More often than not, we find that the apple don’t fall too far from the tree.
Who’s your Daddy? It’s a question that brings us around to Joseph. This morning, we look together at Joseph and figure out together what he might say to us. May we pray.
Wedding plans
The wedding planning was already well underway. Joseph, son of Jacob, and Mary, daughter of Joakim and Anne were engaged to be married. Neither of their families were wealthy, and while the wedding wouldn’t be fancy, it still promised to be a wonderful celebration.
However, over the last couple of months, Joseph had noticed a change coming over Mary. She had always been somewhat shy, but now she seemed standoffish. Joseph couldn’t put his finger on it, but it seemed like Mary was carrying some burden. He was well aware of the difference in their ages – Mary was a young girl, 14 or 15, at best, and he was pretty old in comparison. Joseph wondered if Mary might be embarrassed to be seen with him, or ashamed of him, or utterly repulsed by him, this old carpenter her father had arranged for her to marry. The seeds of doubt sowed themselves deep inside, but Joseph really didn’t know what to do about it. He shrugged his shoulders, said, “Women,” and didn’t really think about it again.
One evening as he was cleaning up the shop, Mary came by. “Joseph, we need to talk.” Now, has anyone ever said these words to you? Have you ever said these words to someone else? I assume “We need to talk” meant the same thing in the ancient world as it does today. It’s what employers say to someone who is about to be terminated. It’s what someone says when they’re about to end a relationship. “We need to talk” is always a precursor of serious news.
“Joseph, we need to talk. I don’t really know how to tell you this.” “Go ahead, Mary. You know you can tell me anything.” “Well . . . this is so hard . . . . I’m pregnant.” There was a long silence, a truly pregnant pause. And then it hit him. “But Mary – we haven’t even . . . you know. Mary, that baby’s not mine! Who is the father of that baby?”
The text tells us that Joseph was a righteous man. Being a righteous man, he would have known the rules. One of those rules is that if the woman to whom you’re engaged is pregnant and you haven’t had marital relations with her, then someone else did. The punishment for such an indiscretion would have been death by stoning. As an unwed, pregnant teenager, Mary would have been on one of the lowest rungs in her society
A side note here. I think society – then and now, has been particularly hard on this particular teenage indiscretion. Yes, I understand the seriousness of teenage pregnancy. I’m well aware of how this complicates and changes lives. I’m aware that teenage pregnancy isn’t really a good thing. And, I’m pretty sure we’ve figured out what causes it. But too many times, when confronted with these prickly and delicate situations, I think the church has responded poorly. Too often, we have shunned the persons involved, and been heavy on judgment and light on compassion. At times in their lives when people need the love and support of a Christian community the most, we have tended to expel them from our midst. I’d ask us to look at how Jesus treated people. Tax collectors and prostitutes – two of the worst category of sinner in Jesus’ day – were people that he hung out with and loved and toward whom he showed compassion. I guess if have to err one way or the other, I’d rather err on the side of compassion than judgment.
But back to Mary and Joseph. Mary knew how precarious her situation was, and she knew what was within Joseph’s right to have done to her. Nevertheless, she continued to outline the story. “It wasn’t another man, Joseph. The Holy Spirit got me pregnant.” “Sure Mary. Of course that’s what happened.”
The text says Joseph resolved to dismiss her quietly and divorce her. He didn’t believe her! This is not the first time someone has played the God card in their own favor. Throughout history, people have tried to make God responsible for all sorts of things God really had nothing to do with. Last week, my eight-year-old nephew was assigned a timeout by my brother-in-law. He said, “Ummmm, I was praying, and God told me he doesn’t like timeouts.”
I wonder if Joseph thought Mary was pulling the same kind of stunt. He knew that baby wasn’t his! They didn’t need to take a DNA sample! They didn’t need to throw chairs at each other on The Jerry Springer Show. Joseph knew the best option for him not having to claim a baby that wasn’t his was to divorce Mary.
But look at this, Joseph was not only a righteous man, he was a compassionate man as well. He didn’t want Mary to be disgraced; he chose not to file charges against her. Perhaps he hoped to “shame” the real father into marrying her and taking responsibility for the baby. Who knows? Maybe he assumed Mary loved the father, and that the father would love the baby. At the very least, perhaps the real father would face the consequences of his actions, and the child in Mary’s womb would have a shot at a stable, so-called normal home.
We are told that an angel, a divine messenger, appears to Joseph in a dream and confirms Mary’s story. The baby really does belong to the Holy Spirit, it turns out. From that point on, Joseph trusts God and puts aside any notion of dismissing or divorcing Mary. He takes her as his wife, and knowing full well that the child she carries is not his, willingly takes responsibility to be the baby’s father. Behold, the virgin who has conceived bears a Son and his name is Jesus.
A man of faith
In these events, Joseph is portrayed as a down-to-earth real man with real struggles and real questions and real fears and real doubts, but who wrestles with what it will mean to be faithful to the promises of God. Joseph shows us that the co-existence of faith and doubt is not only possible, but indeed, probable.
Faith, Joseph shows us, is not simply believing the right things about the right issues. Faith is not arguing our own point and putting down the perspective of others. Faith is not about proving ourselves right and other people wrong. Faith is not about briefed on the right talking points. Faith is not the eradication of questions and doubts. Faith is not having an understanding of everything we’re going through. In other words, faith is not a purely intellectual exercise. Faith is not so much about what we believe in our heads, it is about what we believe in our hearts.
Joseph shows us that faith draws us into a personal experience of the mystery of God. Faith does not try to dismiss the mysterious, or provide a logical explanation for it. Rather, faith lives into the mysterious. Faith brings us face to face with the mystery of God, and we find that mystery to be pregnant with the possibility of God’s future. It takes an imaginative leap to live into that future, and that’s what Joseph provides for us.
Neil Postman, in his book, Technopoly, accuses us of being people with no imagination. We have fooled ourselves into thinking there is a shortage of data in the world, and if we can just wrangle all the facts together, figure out how to sort them out, and line them up correctly, we’ll arrive at the answers to all of life’s problems. The UN sends envoys on fact-finding missions. Our government tells us they can’t decide anything until all the information comes in. Postman says it flat out: “We don’t need more data. We have more facts than we can possibly consume. What we are dying of is lack of courage, lack of dreams, a failure of nerve.”
What Joseph can teach us
But through Joseph, a man who believed that with God all things are possible, we find ourselves swept up in a story that is loaded down with courage, dreams, and nerve. May it be so that we would have that kind of faith! Joseph dares to take responsibility for what the Holy Spirit has already started. And when it comes down to it, that’s a pretty good definition of faith. He shows us a faith that keeps hope alive, and finds himself at the extreme center of divine mystery. He came face to face with the Holy and was utterly humbled by the mystery of it all. “Joseph faced the skepticism of his neighbors in calm faith in the God who was beyond his human comprehension. Joseph had the faith to see in this impossible situation the improbable work of God. He had just enough faith to believe that this improbably conceived infant might in fact be Emmanuel, God with us” (Jim Harnish).
In Protestant circles, we just haven’t known what to do with Mary and particularly with Joseph. We tend to treat him as a surrogate father, a character who fades into the background and doesn’t really influence the story line. But remember this: Joseph is the man God trusted to raise Jesus. He wasn’t just “some guy” who happened to be engaged and then married to the girl who carried the Messiah in her womb.
He is more than a man in the shadows. He is more than a silent man off to the side. He is more than a stand-in figure. He is the man who trusted God, and he is the man God trusted. He shows us that faith isn’t blind; it’s visionary. That is, faith sees things that can’t be seen with our own senses. Faith, rather than denying the improbable, hopes for the impossible. Faith keeps hope alive because it can see things other people cannot see. Joseph was a man of extreme faith, hope, and love, and I know it influenced Jesus. Later, when Jesus saw ordinary fishermen and called them to be fishers of people, or when he saw a tax collector and called him to be a disciple, or when he saw a dying thief on a cross and promised that he would be with him in paradise, I believe he might have actually been living out of a faith he had seen in Joseph, a faith that was not afraid to believe that improbable, even impossible things, might actually come true.
Friends, in these last days of the Advent season before Christmas bursts in upon us, we find our imaginations pregnant with the hope of God’s possibilities. If you remember nothing else from this morning’s sermon, remember this: God wants to do extraordinary things in your life, as well – things that seem difficult, things that seem improbable, things that seem impossible. God is calling you to be part of bringing hope to the world. God seeks to bless your life in order that you may be a blessing to others. God wants to transform your life, so you in turn can transform the world.
You have come to church on this, the 14th of December, the third Sunday in Advent. I hope you have come looking for hope, because in the story of this holy family we find it. If you come to church in December, you’d better buckle yourself in because we’re going to bombard you with hope. We’re going to stir up the poet within you, and teach you to sing again, and invite you to imagine yourself smack in the middle of God’s promises and possibilities.
Like Joseph, I hope we will be found faithful. May we allow hope to root itself in our hearts, in the very core and center of our being. May we come face to face with the Holy and be utterly humbled by the mystery of it all. May we be open to the movements of the Holy Spirit among us to accomplish great, and improbable, and impossible things. And as we do, may the true spirit of Christmas – Emmanuel, God-with-us, be born within each of us.
“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.
In 1968, The Zombies put out a song called “Time of the Season.” One of the most memorable lines from that song is, “What’s your name? Who’s your daddy? Is he rich like me?” According to the online source of all things reliable and true, Wikipedia.org, use of the phrase, “Who’s your Daddy,” enjoyed popularity among radio shock jocks in the late 1980s, but gained widespread use during the early 1990s. According to Wikipedia, it is “a slang expression that enjoys the form of a rhetorical question. Use of the phrase implies a boastful claim of dominance over the intended listener. One variant commonly aimed at residents of Indiana is ‘Hoosier Daddy.’”
If any of you have met my father, there is no denying the family resemblance. It is very clear, just in looking at the two of us, that I am my father’s son. In fact, you could look at photos of us taken at the same ages, and they look remarkably similar, with the exception of different hairstyles and clothing. Whenever I would leave the house, my parents would remind me, “Remember who are, and who you’re related to.” A great deal of our identity is based on the simple fact of who our parents are. Rightly or wrongly, people will make judgments about us based on who our family is, or where we come from, or what associations we maintain. By knowing the answer to the question, “Who’s your Daddy?”, people can make some pretty clear assumptions about who we are. Knowing our origins can tell others a lot about ourselves, and it’s also interesting to know where we, ourselves, have come from. More often than not, we find that the apple don’t fall too far from the tree.
Who’s your Daddy? It’s a question that brings us around to Joseph. This morning, we look together at Joseph and figure out together what he might say to us. May we pray.
Wedding plans
The wedding planning was already well underway. Joseph, son of Jacob, and Mary, daughter of Joakim and Anne were engaged to be married. Neither of their families were wealthy, and while the wedding wouldn’t be fancy, it still promised to be a wonderful celebration.
However, over the last couple of months, Joseph had noticed a change coming over Mary. She had always been somewhat shy, but now she seemed standoffish. Joseph couldn’t put his finger on it, but it seemed like Mary was carrying some burden. He was well aware of the difference in their ages – Mary was a young girl, 14 or 15, at best, and he was pretty old in comparison. Joseph wondered if Mary might be embarrassed to be seen with him, or ashamed of him, or utterly repulsed by him, this old carpenter her father had arranged for her to marry. The seeds of doubt sowed themselves deep inside, but Joseph really didn’t know what to do about it. He shrugged his shoulders, said, “Women,” and didn’t really think about it again.
One evening as he was cleaning up the shop, Mary came by. “Joseph, we need to talk.” Now, has anyone ever said these words to you? Have you ever said these words to someone else? I assume “We need to talk” meant the same thing in the ancient world as it does today. It’s what employers say to someone who is about to be terminated. It’s what someone says when they’re about to end a relationship. “We need to talk” is always a precursor of serious news.
“Joseph, we need to talk. I don’t really know how to tell you this.” “Go ahead, Mary. You know you can tell me anything.” “Well . . . this is so hard . . . . I’m pregnant.” There was a long silence, a truly pregnant pause. And then it hit him. “But Mary – we haven’t even . . . you know. Mary, that baby’s not mine! Who is the father of that baby?”
The text tells us that Joseph was a righteous man. Being a righteous man, he would have known the rules. One of those rules is that if the woman to whom you’re engaged is pregnant and you haven’t had marital relations with her, then someone else did. The punishment for such an indiscretion would have been death by stoning. As an unwed, pregnant teenager, Mary would have been on one of the lowest rungs in her society
A side note here. I think society – then and now, has been particularly hard on this particular teenage indiscretion. Yes, I understand the seriousness of teenage pregnancy. I’m well aware of how this complicates and changes lives. I’m aware that teenage pregnancy isn’t really a good thing. And, I’m pretty sure we’ve figured out what causes it. But too many times, when confronted with these prickly and delicate situations, I think the church has responded poorly. Too often, we have shunned the persons involved, and been heavy on judgment and light on compassion. At times in their lives when people need the love and support of a Christian community the most, we have tended to expel them from our midst. I’d ask us to look at how Jesus treated people. Tax collectors and prostitutes – two of the worst category of sinner in Jesus’ day – were people that he hung out with and loved and toward whom he showed compassion. I guess if have to err one way or the other, I’d rather err on the side of compassion than judgment.
But back to Mary and Joseph. Mary knew how precarious her situation was, and she knew what was within Joseph’s right to have done to her. Nevertheless, she continued to outline the story. “It wasn’t another man, Joseph. The Holy Spirit got me pregnant.” “Sure Mary. Of course that’s what happened.”
The text says Joseph resolved to dismiss her quietly and divorce her. He didn’t believe her! This is not the first time someone has played the God card in their own favor. Throughout history, people have tried to make God responsible for all sorts of things God really had nothing to do with. Last week, my eight-year-old nephew was assigned a timeout by my brother-in-law. He said, “Ummmm, I was praying, and God told me he doesn’t like timeouts.”
I wonder if Joseph thought Mary was pulling the same kind of stunt. He knew that baby wasn’t his! They didn’t need to take a DNA sample! They didn’t need to throw chairs at each other on The Jerry Springer Show. Joseph knew the best option for him not having to claim a baby that wasn’t his was to divorce Mary.
But look at this, Joseph was not only a righteous man, he was a compassionate man as well. He didn’t want Mary to be disgraced; he chose not to file charges against her. Perhaps he hoped to “shame” the real father into marrying her and taking responsibility for the baby. Who knows? Maybe he assumed Mary loved the father, and that the father would love the baby. At the very least, perhaps the real father would face the consequences of his actions, and the child in Mary’s womb would have a shot at a stable, so-called normal home.
We are told that an angel, a divine messenger, appears to Joseph in a dream and confirms Mary’s story. The baby really does belong to the Holy Spirit, it turns out. From that point on, Joseph trusts God and puts aside any notion of dismissing or divorcing Mary. He takes her as his wife, and knowing full well that the child she carries is not his, willingly takes responsibility to be the baby’s father. Behold, the virgin who has conceived bears a Son and his name is Jesus.
A man of faith
In these events, Joseph is portrayed as a down-to-earth real man with real struggles and real questions and real fears and real doubts, but who wrestles with what it will mean to be faithful to the promises of God. Joseph shows us that the co-existence of faith and doubt is not only possible, but indeed, probable.
Faith, Joseph shows us, is not simply believing the right things about the right issues. Faith is not arguing our own point and putting down the perspective of others. Faith is not about proving ourselves right and other people wrong. Faith is not about briefed on the right talking points. Faith is not the eradication of questions and doubts. Faith is not having an understanding of everything we’re going through. In other words, faith is not a purely intellectual exercise. Faith is not so much about what we believe in our heads, it is about what we believe in our hearts.
Joseph shows us that faith draws us into a personal experience of the mystery of God. Faith does not try to dismiss the mysterious, or provide a logical explanation for it. Rather, faith lives into the mysterious. Faith brings us face to face with the mystery of God, and we find that mystery to be pregnant with the possibility of God’s future. It takes an imaginative leap to live into that future, and that’s what Joseph provides for us.
Neil Postman, in his book, Technopoly, accuses us of being people with no imagination. We have fooled ourselves into thinking there is a shortage of data in the world, and if we can just wrangle all the facts together, figure out how to sort them out, and line them up correctly, we’ll arrive at the answers to all of life’s problems. The UN sends envoys on fact-finding missions. Our government tells us they can’t decide anything until all the information comes in. Postman says it flat out: “We don’t need more data. We have more facts than we can possibly consume. What we are dying of is lack of courage, lack of dreams, a failure of nerve.”
What Joseph can teach us
But through Joseph, a man who believed that with God all things are possible, we find ourselves swept up in a story that is loaded down with courage, dreams, and nerve. May it be so that we would have that kind of faith! Joseph dares to take responsibility for what the Holy Spirit has already started. And when it comes down to it, that’s a pretty good definition of faith. He shows us a faith that keeps hope alive, and finds himself at the extreme center of divine mystery. He came face to face with the Holy and was utterly humbled by the mystery of it all. “Joseph faced the skepticism of his neighbors in calm faith in the God who was beyond his human comprehension. Joseph had the faith to see in this impossible situation the improbable work of God. He had just enough faith to believe that this improbably conceived infant might in fact be Emmanuel, God with us” (Jim Harnish).
In Protestant circles, we just haven’t known what to do with Mary and particularly with Joseph. We tend to treat him as a surrogate father, a character who fades into the background and doesn’t really influence the story line. But remember this: Joseph is the man God trusted to raise Jesus. He wasn’t just “some guy” who happened to be engaged and then married to the girl who carried the Messiah in her womb.
He is more than a man in the shadows. He is more than a silent man off to the side. He is more than a stand-in figure. He is the man who trusted God, and he is the man God trusted. He shows us that faith isn’t blind; it’s visionary. That is, faith sees things that can’t be seen with our own senses. Faith, rather than denying the improbable, hopes for the impossible. Faith keeps hope alive because it can see things other people cannot see. Joseph was a man of extreme faith, hope, and love, and I know it influenced Jesus. Later, when Jesus saw ordinary fishermen and called them to be fishers of people, or when he saw a tax collector and called him to be a disciple, or when he saw a dying thief on a cross and promised that he would be with him in paradise, I believe he might have actually been living out of a faith he had seen in Joseph, a faith that was not afraid to believe that improbable, even impossible things, might actually come true.
Friends, in these last days of the Advent season before Christmas bursts in upon us, we find our imaginations pregnant with the hope of God’s possibilities. If you remember nothing else from this morning’s sermon, remember this: God wants to do extraordinary things in your life, as well – things that seem difficult, things that seem improbable, things that seem impossible. God is calling you to be part of bringing hope to the world. God seeks to bless your life in order that you may be a blessing to others. God wants to transform your life, so you in turn can transform the world.
You have come to church on this, the 14th of December, the third Sunday in Advent. I hope you have come looking for hope, because in the story of this holy family we find it. If you come to church in December, you’d better buckle yourself in because we’re going to bombard you with hope. We’re going to stir up the poet within you, and teach you to sing again, and invite you to imagine yourself smack in the middle of God’s promises and possibilities.
Like Joseph, I hope we will be found faithful. May we allow hope to root itself in our hearts, in the very core and center of our being. May we come face to face with the Holy and be utterly humbled by the mystery of it all. May we be open to the movements of the Holy Spirit among us to accomplish great, and improbable, and impossible things. And as we do, may the true spirit of Christmas – Emmanuel, God-with-us, be born within each of us.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
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