Choosing the Better Part (Luke 10:38-42)

While Jesus and his disciples were traveling, Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him as a guest.  She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his message.  By contrast, Martha was preoccupied with getting everything ready for their meal.  So Martha came to him and said, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to prepare the table all by myself?  Tell her to help me.”

The Lord answered, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.  One thing is necessary.  Mary has chosen the better part.  It won’t be taken away from her.”

Imagine it is a warm summer afternoon.  You have been busy all day doing the usual chores at your house.  The yard is mowed, the laundry is done, and the house is, at least relatively, clean.  You go out to the back deck and sit down with a cold beverage, ready to relax for an hour or so until it’s time to fix dinner for your family.  You have just kicked your shoes off and the dog has just laid down beside your chair when you hear the front doorbell.

Some important person is standing on your doorstep – it’s your imagination, so make it whoever you want.  Some powerful political figure, a celebrity, some VIP – maybe even someone really important, like your pastor!  This person happens to be passing through town and has chosen you and your house as the place and people with whom to have dinner.  Lucky you!  You will have the honor (and it really is an honor) of preparing dinner for this important guest – and the twelve other guys traveling with him.

With this scenario in mind, you may have a slight taste of how Martha felt when Jesus showed up, unannounced, at her home.  May we pray.

Everyone took their seats at the dinner party.  The hostess, ever gracious, turned to her four-year-old son, the youngest person at the table, and said, “Sweetie, would you like to say grace?  Would you like to talk to God before we eat?”  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, “I don’t know what to say.”  She smiled and said, “Just say what you hear Mommy say.”

Heads were bowed and eyes were closed around the table, and he spoke into the silence: “Dear God, why did I invite all these people over for dinner?”

Hospitality – the art of welcoming outsiders and treating them like honored guests – is a consistent theme that has always been important to people of faith.  Hospitality is still an important function in the church today – it is vitally important that we are an invitational and welcoming, more concerned with the needs of outsiders than ourselves, making a place for strangers and newcomers and doing whatever it takes to make them feel at home.

Hospitality matters most when we go out of our way to make another feel welcome.  Here’s an example of something that happened just last week.  We had a couple who came to visit for the first time.  They were arriving in time for the 10:55 service, and met, in the parking lot, another couple who had attended the 9 o’clock service and Sunday School and were on their way to their car.  The new couple asked “Where should we go in?” and rather than just point toward the door, they were escorted, personally, by their new friends to the sanctuary.  That made an impression on the visiting couple, and I won’t be surprised if we see them again soon.

The more we do in the church with a focus on outsiders, trying to see things from their perspective, leads us to be more and more hospitable.  Everything, from our signage directing people around the building to where we park can be seen as important practices of hospitality.  Did you ever think of parking as an act of hospitality?  I do.  On Sunday mornings, I park off-site, over at the Brookhaven School, as an act of hospitality.  I am here early, I could park anywhere I want.   I intentionally park far away and save better spots for someone else, hopefully someone new.  I park off-site as a gesture of hospitality, and every time I take that slightly longer walk in, I am thinking and praying for the person for whom I have just made room.  I invite those of you who believe in the importance of making room for others – particularly those of you who are here a little early and are physically able, to join me: take a spot that’s less convenient for you, but makes room for someone else.

The story of Martha and Mary centers around the practice of hospitality.  When Jesus and his entourage showed up on Martha’s doorstep, she took it all in stride.  Being a good, 1^st-Century Jewish woman, she took her hospitality seriously.  She remembered all the stories from the Hebrew Scriptures about the importance of welcoming strangers and providing for their needs, how serving them was a way of serving God.  Hospitality was itself an act of worship.

No one was a more gracious practitioner of hospitality than Martha.  She paid exacting attention to every little detail and personally ensured that everything – from the seating arrangement to the flowers to the wine selection was, in two words coined by another Martha, a “good thing.”  But even Martha Stewart had nothing on the Bible’s Martha in terms of throwing the perfect party.  Her dinner parties were legendary, and when it came to entertaining, Martha was all that and a bag of artisan home-baked pita chips, enfused with notes of saffron and lightly-dusted with sea salt.

With someone as important as Jesus in her home, she had the opportunity to throw the dinner party to end all dinner parties, forever sealing her reputation as the hostess with the mostest.  And yet, it was Martha’s commitment to gracious hospitality that sets the table for the rather ungracious encounter that stands at the center of this story.  Martha is frustrated that while she is slaving away in a hot kitchen, getting the dining room set with the good china, and cutting fresh flowers for the centerpiece, her sister Mary is in the living room with Jesus and the menfolk – laughing, listening, and hanging on every word out of Jesus’ mouth.

Martha has come through the room several times and made some suggestion – first subtle and increasingly not-so-subtle – that Mary get off her backside and come help in the kitchen where she belongs.  She has finally hit her breaking point, and comes storming into the room with her apron on and a wooden spoon in her hand and barks an order at Jesus, telling him to order Mary to do what everyone knows she is supposed to do: go help with the preparations.

But, the surprise is on Martha.  Jesus responds in an unexpected way – as he has a tendency to do – and says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.  One thing is necessary.  Mary has chosen the better part.  It won’t be taken away from her.”

What has commonly been taught is that Jesus is down on Martha for her work, but commends Mary for being more “spiritual.”  Shame on you if you’re a worker like Martha, blessed are you if you’re spiritual like Mary; Martha = bad, Mary = good.

That’s a very interesting and common interpretation of this story.  It’s also wrong, or it at least misses what Jesus is really after here.  It almost sets up the story like a rigged game show, where contestants chose between two categories: “Are you more like Martha, or more like Mary?”  Everyone knows the answer, it’s Mary, yet contestant after contestant says, “I’m more like Martha.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!  The answer we were looking for was Mary.  Martha is the wrong answer!  Thanks for playing, and better luck next time!”

Rather than beating up on Martha for being the busy, bossy woman who ignored Jesus, while lifting up Mary as the gold standard of pious devotion, it is far better to realize that both the Marthas and the Marys of the world are beloved children of God, and that both have their place in God’s kingdom and their work to do to fulfill it.

Indeed, where would the church be without our Marthas (and Martins, too, just so you realize this sermon is for the guys, too!)?  Where would we be without faithful workers who perform the tasks and function and yes, work, of hospitality and service that are critical to helping the church better reflect the kingdom of God?  Where would we be without those who serve and give sacrificially of their time, talent, and treasure in order to further God’s will around the corner and around the world?

I cannot imagine Jesus, who told us that when we care for the least of these we are caring for him, I cannot imagine Jesus telling Christians who are emptying bed pans in AIDS clinics or baking biscuits for the shelter or working to build and repair homes, schools, hospitals, and clinics – I cannot for one second imagine Jesus saying, “You people are pre-occupied with busy work.  Leave the children, leave the poor, the sick, the lonely behind.  Come, sit and meditate for awhile – don’t you know that’s the better part?”

The life of work and service is not something entirely different from the life of prayer and devotion – rather, they are like two sides of the same coin.  It is not that we choose between a life of prayer and a life of work, for we are called to be people of both work and prayer.  Figuring out what is ultimately important and putting that first – that’s the challenge of the Gospel.  And nothing is more important than receiving the Kingdom of God, wherever you are, when it comes near.  Sometimes when we discern that it is near, the faithful thing is to drop everything and sit still and listen – like Mary.

Other times when we discern its presence, the faithful thing to do is to get busy about some important task – like Martha.  But if we were to ask Jesus which of these two things we need more of – Mary’s prayerful listening or Martha’s determined doing, he would say, “Yes.”

Both listening and doing, loving God through worship and loving others through service, are as vital to the Christian life as inhaling and exhaling are vital to breathing.  The rub comes that when all our activities leave us with no time to be still in the Lord’s presence and hear God’s Word, we are likely to end up anxious and troubled, or as Martha was, distracted by our many tasks.

The problem for Martha in in the story is not that she is a worker, but that she is distracted.  The Greek word there means “pulled in many directions,” and that’s the real issue here.  It’s that she is so busy, so distracted, so frazzled in trying to show good hospitality, that she forgets the most important aspect of hospitality: careful and gracious attention to the guest.  Martha is pulled in many directions with all she wants to accomplish for Jesus that she ends up committing a major party foul, by simultaneously trying to embarrass her sister and pulling Jesus into a family squabble.

Now, I have two older sisters; my mom was one of four sisters; my grandmother is one of seven sisters: I know, from personal experience, that if sisters start to fight, the smartest thing you can do is not get in the middle of it!

Jesus doesn’t really take sides here; he simply expresses his disappointment in Martha for stooping to something so low as airing the family’s dirty table linens in front of company.  It’s as if he’s saying, “Martha, you’re better than this!”

John Calvin, the church reformer, wrote “Work is good, but if we work all the time, work becomes a curse, not a blessing.”  The story of Martha and Mary is a reminder that if our many tasks have left us so frazzled that we lack the love and grace befitting God’s people, then it’s time to let a few things slide off our plate, and sit at the feet of Jesus to listen for awhile.

Frankly, that’s what church is supposed to be: a time to stop amid all our important doing and listen to Jesus, a time to put away our to-do list and hear the one thing needed: that we are God’s children; we are defined, ultimately, by God’s mercy, grace, and love.

If you are a Mary, that’s great.  If you are a Martha, that’s great, too.  It’s who God created you to be, so you go ahead and own it!  Being a Martha is nothing to be embarrassed about, and it’s nothing to apologize for.  It’s OK to be a do-er, but it’s not OK to do so much that you forget why you’re doing what you’re doing, or that you do it without grace, or that you miss Jesus in all the doing.

I hear Jesus’ words to workaholic Martha not as a rebuke, but as a reminder that our identity and worth are not found on a to-do list.  We are valued and loved not because of what we do, but because of who we are: beloved and even treasured for all time, created in God’s image, receivers of God’s grace – there is nothing we can do that would earn God’s love, and nothing we can do to lose it. 

What Do You Want to Be Called? (Luke 13:10-17)

Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath.  A woman was there who had been disabled by a spirit for 18 years.  She was bent over and couldn’t stand up straight.  When he saw her, Jesus called her to him and said, “Woman, you are set free from your sickness.”  He placed his hands on her and she straightened up at once and praised God.

The synagogue leader, incensed that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, responded, “There are six days during which work is permitted.  Come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath day.”

The Lord replied, “Hypocrites!  Don’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from its stall and lead it out to get a drink?  Then isn’t it necessary that this woman, a daughter of Abraham, bound by Satan for eighteen long years, be set free from her bondage on the Sabbath day?”  When he said these things, all his opponents were put to shame, but all those in the crowd rejoiced at all the extraordinary things he was doing.

A time of transition comes with many questions – How will things be different?  And, how will things remain the same?, but there is one consistent question many of you have asked of me that really cuts to the heart of the matter: “What should we call you?”

I have been called many things in 33 years on this planet, some of which can be repeated in public!  By now, many of you have wisely discerned that “A.J.” is not the name my parents chose for me.  People have often tried to guess what my initials stand for.  Though I was born in Oklahoma, I grew up in Niagara Falls, NY, a good Italian-Roman Catholic community where the most common guess was that it stood for Anthony Joseph.  Since I moved to North Carolina 11 years ago, the most common guess has been for Andrew Jackson.

I blame my parents for the confusion.  At my birth, they agreed that my name would be Andrew Jeremy Thomas, but a disagreement soon ensued as to what I should be called.  Mom wanted to call me Andrew, and Dad wanted to call me Andy.  After a few days, they agreed to call me Jeremy, and my family still calls me by my middle name.  So where did I pick up A.J.?

I began kindergarten at Hyde Park School, and this may surprise you, but I was somewhat shy and retiring as I began my education.  The official name on the roster was “Andrew,” and I didn’t speak up and tell them they called me “Jeremy” at home.  By first grade, I had learned to speak up for myself and told them I went by Jeremy.  When 2^nd grade arrived, the school’s gym teacher said, “Well first it was Andrew, then it was Jeremy; what’s it gonna be this year – A.J.?”

So, what should you call me?  Well, if you call me Andrew, I will assume you’re either from the government or a telemarketer.  If you call me Jeremy, I’ll assume you’re a member of my immediate family.  If you call me Andrew Jeremy, I will assume that I’m in trouble.  So please, avoid those.  If you’re comfortable being on very familiar terms with your pastor, you can just call me “A.J.”  You can also call me “Pastor A.J.” or “Pastor Thomas” or even just “Pastor.”

Names are important, because what we call someone is a pretty clear indication of what we think about them.  You see, a name is not just a name.  A name is an identity, often laden with layers and layers of meaning.

So it is for a woman we meet though today’s Scripture reading from the 13^th chapter of Luke’s Gospel.  She has come to meet Jesus as he is teaching in the synagogue one Sabbath day.  We only know her as “the broken woman.”  Depending on what translation you’re using today, it may call her “the crooked woman,” or “the bent woman,” but I want you to notice that we never get her name.  Even on the sacred pages of Scripture, she is only known by a painful and cruel label.

Imagine with me, for a moment, what life must have been like for this woman.  Eighteen years ago, a chronic back pain developed.  It got worse and worse; each day of her life was a little more painful than the last one.  As the pain got worse, it became disfiguring – hunching her frame, dragging her down.

She was bent over – had been bent over – for years, staring at the ground, her back terribly contorted, and dragged downward by all those years of pain.  It hurt too much to look up anymore; and the world became increasingly smaller around her.  One by one, friends and family members faded out of the background.  The pain wasn’t just physical.  It cut to every other area of her life, as well.  Defeated by pain that was both physical and social, how long had it been since she had looked anyone in the eye?  How long since someone had cared enough about her to look her in the eye?  It hurt too much to even think about looking up, and by now her eyes were always downcast.  For this broken and bent woman, whose gaze was permanently upon the dirt being trampled by everyone’s feet, most days, that’s exactly how she felt.

The physical pain was bad enough, but even worse was the stigma of the cruel label the world had slapped upon her aching back.

When I moved to the South, I discovered this unwritten rule, a perception that you can say whatever you want about someone so long as you follow it up with, “Bless their heart.”  If you’re like me, you have heard all sorts of ugly things said about someone else followed up with, “Bless their heart,” like that somehow makes it okay!

As the woman in our Scripture entered the synagogue to hear Jesus that day, a few folks may have whispered to their neighbor, “Here comes that bent-over woman, bless her heart,” but my guess is that most of the people there tried not to notice her.  As she came in a few minutes late, no one was waiting for her.  No one was saving a seat for her.  No one said, “Oh, here comes Mary or Martha or Elizabeth or Ruth or Rachel,” or whatever her long-forgotten name actually was, because no one cared.

Except for Jesus.  He was somewhere between points two and three in his sermon when she made her humble entrance and tried to blend in with the furniture at the back of the room.  She wasn’t trying to be noticed, she wasn’t trying to make a scene, Lord knows she didn’t want to be the center of attention that day, but when he saw her, Jesus was filled with compassion for this woman in pain.  Jesus stopped mid-sentence and looked at her, and all of a sudden every eye in the place was upon her.  She looked up for the first time in years and her eyes locked with the smiling eyes of Jesus, who motioned her to come forward.  Jesus laid his hands on her, and she immediately straightened, and she and everyone there that day knew that she was healed.

Now, Jesus has just healed on the Sabbath, and the synagogue leaders don’t like it one bit.  “Flag on the play, Jesus – you can’t perform work on the Sabbath!  I don’t know who you think you are, but we have rules around here, Jesus, and you just broke them!”

This encounter with the religious leaders sets the stage for the second miracle in this story.  Did you know there are two miracles here?  The first and obvious one is when Jesus physically heals the woman’s aching back.  The second miracle is easy to miss, but friends, it is even more important than the first!

Here it is: Jesus calls the woman, “Daughter of Abraham.”  One who, for 18 years, has been known as “the bent woman,” she whose body and spirit have been dragged down by physical and social pain, is called “Daughter of Abraham.”  I am convinced, even if her back hadn’t been healed, when Jesus called her by this new name she would have stood straight and tall, because Jesus has just announced to everyone that she matters in the eyes of God.

So, good-bye, cruel and painful labels! Adios, confining and restrictive names!  None of those define her anymore.  Her life has been re-named as part of God’s great redemption story, and now what was obvious to Jesus is known by others – that she is one of God’s beloved children, she is part of the family of God.

Friends, so it is for us this day.  I don’t know what labels or names may have been put on you throughout your life, who put them there, or how painful they might have been.  What I do know is that those names do not define you.  You’re one of God’s beloved children – that’s who you are!  If you remember nothing else from today’s message, remember this: you are part of the family of God!

I may be new here, but I’ve already done a lot of listening and observing about who this congregation is, about what makes Morehead United Methodist Church unique.  The word that keeps coming up is “family,” and if our church is going to be described as anything, “family” is a great way to go.  There are some churches that describe themselves as a “family,” and they mean it more literally, in that everyone is related somehow to everyone else.  That’s not the kind of family we’re going for in this church!

Let me put it this way.  I have a theory that everyone has weird cousins, a theory not entirely contradicted by the realization that I am also somebody’s cousin!  But, when you’re part of a family, that weirdness is accepted and even embraced.  And so, as a healthy church family, we will love you and accept you no matter what.  We will genuinely love you, we will stick together through thick and thin.  We will embrace the things that make us unique, we will look past differences to find common ground.  We will always have a place for you at the family table of grace.

Most importantly, as members of the family of God, we will look for the family resemblance in each other; we will make every effort to see the image of God within every person and treat each other accordingly.  I would love to see us continue to develop and expand the name we’ve made for ourselves, and since Olive Garden changed their slogan in October, maybe we’ll just use their old one: “When you’re here, you’re family.”

Friends, as your new pastor, my vision for our church is not off in a radical new direction, but one that builds on the best of who you already are: a family.  Not one related by blood or marriage, but a family joined together by grace, and growing – in God’s love.  That’s who I believe God has called us to be as a church: a family joined by grace, growing in God’s love.

And you heard me correctly; I believe this family called Morehead United Methodist Church is called to be a growing family.  We have been deeply blessed by the touch of Jesus in our lives, and by being part of this particular church family.  Amen?  We’re called to bless others as we have been blessed.

A woman’s back was healed by Jesus, and she discovered herself a beloved child of God.  It’s what she always wanted to be called.

All around us are people who need the transforming touch of Jesus in their lives, and are waiting to be welcomed into the family of God.  Let’s bring them home.

Keep Your Eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:1-3)

So then let’s also run the race that is laid out in front of us, since we have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us.  Let’s throw off any extra baggage, get rid of the sin that trips us up, and fix our eyes on Jesus, faith’s pioneer and perfecter.  He endured the cross, ignoring the shame, for the sake of the joy that was laid out in front of him, and sat down at the right side of God’s throne.

Think about the one who endured such opposition from sinners so that you won’t be discouraged and you won’t give up.

Today’s message is one of the more unusual and difficult to put together in my four years as your pastor.  It is not just any sermon, but a final sermon, a farewell sermon, a benediction to bless you as you have blessed me.

Today is my last Sunday as your pastor before I begin as the pastor of Morehead United Methodist Church in Greensboro.  Today is a day of mixed emotions for me – on one hand, excited to be going to a great church, to cut my daily commute from 25 miles to 12, and none of those miles along I-77 (can I get an “Amen!”), and for a new chapter and all the promise and possibility that holds.

On the other hand, moving forward into that next chapter requires leaving behind so many of the wonderful people who have been a part of my life for four years.  So many of you have blessed me in ways large and small.  I am grateful for the countless ways you have supported me, for our relationships, for the ways you have been open to the subtle and not-so-subtle movements of the Holy Spirit, for the ways you have grown in your faith and for the ways you have pulled together to make this church better and stronger.  It has been an honor to have a front-row seat to watch you grow as the love of God and neighbor expands in your hearts, that all people may know and experience God’s grace through you.  You should not be surprised when you hear these words one day: “Well-done, good and faithful servant.”

I am leaving you in the hands of another good and faithful servant in Pastor Carol, who is excited to begin as your next pastor.  I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hand things over to someone who has been a good friend of mine for the better part of 11 years.  Many of you have met her already; is she not great?  The rest of you will have an opportunity to meet her, and I know you’ll quickly grow to love her.  I can’t wait to see what God is yet to do through all of you and Pastor Carol as you work together to be the church God wants you to be.  I look forward to hearing her tell about what a happy and fulfilling ministry she is having here, and I expect each of you to try to outdo one another in being her biggest cheerleader and supporter.  Deal?

Today, the word of God for all people comes to us from the New Testament letter to the Hebrews, the 12^th chapter, verses 1-3.  It represents my sincerest hope and prayer for you as I depart:

So then let’s also run the race that is laid out in front of us, since we have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us.  Let’s throw off any extra baggage, get rid of the sin that trips us up, and fix our eyes on Jesus, faith’s pioneer and perfecter.  He endured the cross, ignoring the shame, for the sake of the joy that was laid out in front of him, and sat down at the right side of God’s throne.

Think about the one who endured such opposition from sinners so that you won’t be discouraged and you won’t give up.

If I may summarize: “Keep running the race.  Stay the course.  Look at the wonderful people – past, present, and future – God has surrounded you with!  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  Train yourself toward him.  Train yourself to be like him.  Whatever you do, don’t give up.  Keep your eyes on Jesus.”

The Christian life is a journey, and here in Hebrews, a long-distance foot race.  Any long-distance runners among us today?  I am not a runner – I know you’re shocked – but I know enough about running to know that you don’t just wake up one day and decide to run a marathon.  What do you have to do?  You have to train.  Serious long-distance runners train for months, sometimes years, for one big race, slowly building their endurance and capacity, not trying to get there in one fell swoop but growing, growing, growing.

Being a follower of Jesus is very much the same.  We may commit our lives to Christ in an instant or over time, but being a follower of Jesus, deepening in our faith, expanding in our love of God and neighbor, takes a lifetime of training and stretching, challenging and growing.  Following Jesus is a discipline.  It’s a commitment.  It’s a lifestyle.  But those who commit to it find it not to be a burden, but one of life’s greatest blessings.

In many sports, the adage is often “Keep your eye on – the ball.”  Keep your eye on the ball.  Why?  It’s pretty simple, actually, because “What you see – is what you get.”  If you can’t see the ball, you’re not likely to get the ball.

Many of you know I enjoy playing golf.  If I am starting to consistently mis-hit shots, the first thing I check is where I am looking, and nine times out of ten, it’s not at the ball.  Now, I think I’m looking at the ball!  I’d swear I’m looking at the ball!  But in reality, before I’ve come through, I’ve picked my head up and by the time my club comes through and makes contact with the ball, I’m looking 300 yards down the fairway while the ball is still at my feet.

I’m looking where I hope the ball is going to be, where I’d like for the ball to be, but that’s not where the ball is.  You ever do that with Jesus?  Look for him where you’d prefer for him to be, rather than where he actually is?

Keep your eyes on Jesus.  What you see is what you get.  If you’re focused on Jesus, guess what you’re going to get?  Jesus.  And if you’re not focused on Jesus, then what do you get?  What you see is what you get, and I want you to get as much Jesus as you possibly can!

Keep your eyes on Jesus.  Now, that’s not an easy thing, sometimes.  There is so much to distract us, so much to take our attention away from Jesus, extra baggage, things that trip us up, so God has given us some help in the form of training partners – a great cloud of witnesses who surround us, encourage us, challenge us, and hold us accountable in love for staying focused on Jesus.  Look around at the great cloud of witnesses who have assembled here today – what a gift you have been given in this particular community.  Your job is to cheer each other on, despite whatever obstacles and challenges you may come across, keep cheering each other on and supporting each other and keeping your eyes on Jesus.

The cloud of witnesses who surround us are not only those we see here and now.  The cloud stretches back into the past and off into the future to include all followers of Jesus of every time and place.  I can’t help but think of all of your loved ones who have left this life and gone on to the church triumphant, especially those I have had the honor to bury over the last four years:

·        Mary Edythe Britt

·        Alma Efird

·        Thelma Elkin

·        John Foster

·        Jo Gurganus

·        Wylene Hinkle

·        Frank Honeycutt

·        Lucretia Kinnaird

·        Bob Kinnett

·        Marie Landis

·        Mary Bryce Langford

·        Margaret Levan

·        Clint Maxey

·        Ellie Stratton

·        Mildred Walker

·        Jetta Williams

Think for a minute of their example, the way they ran their race, kept their eyes on Jesus, embodied Christlike character, lived lives full of God’s love and grace.  Has the witness of any of those people made a positive impression on you?  They have finished their course, but they have now taken their seats in the great grandstand of life and are cheering us on.

The great cloud of witnesses stretches off into the future, as well.  One of the things I love about being a pastor is welcoming new folks into the life of the church, as they begin their discipleship journey through the sacrament of baptism.  I can’t help but think of all those I have had the joy to baptize in my four years here:

·        Rowan Clarke

·        Robin Franklin

·        Stacey Perrow

·        Cameron Wilcox

·        Chance Franklin

·        Rob Vervoort

·        Adam Vervoort

·        Missy Meyer

·        Braxton Hudson

·        Adalynn Watford

·        Elle Neill

·        Cannon Davis

Friends, these do not represent the next generation of the church; for they are part of that great cloud of witnesses this day.  They are looking to us, as part of that cloud of witnesses, to run our race, to keep our eyes on Jesus and nothing but Jesus to show them the way.

Another way to think of the great cloud of witnesses?  Saints.  A young boy was once asked what a saint was. The only saints he had ever seen were the saints in the stained glass windows in church. So he replied very simply: “A saint is someone who lets the light shine through!”

Keep your eyes on Jesus, and his light will shine through you.

It has been my honor to run this leg of the race with you.  Keep running the race.  I won’t be here with you anymore, but I’m still rooting for you.  Just consider me part of the great cloud of witnesses that is cheering you on.  So, stay the course.  Look at the wonderful people – past, present, and future – God has surrounded you with!  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  Train yourself toward him.  Train yourself to be like him.  Whatever you do, don’t give up.

Keep your eyes on Jesus, so others can see Jesus through you.  I’ll be cheering for you.

Interrupting Jesus (Mark 5:21-43)

Jesus crossed the lake again, and on the other side a large crowd gathered around him on the shore.  Jairus, one of the synagogue leaders, came forward.  When he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded with him, “My daughter is about to die.  Please, come and place your hands on her so that she can be healed and live.”

A swarm of people were following Jesus, crowding in on him.  A woman was there who had bleeding for twelve years.  She had suffered a lot under the care of many doctors, and had spent everything she had without getting any better.  In fact, she had gotten worse.  Because she had heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his clothes.  She was thinking, “If I can just touch his clothes, I’ll be healed.”  Her bleeding stopped immediately, and she sensed in her body that her illness had been healed.

At that very moment, Jesus recognized that power had gone out from him.  He turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

His disciples said to him, “Don’t you see the crowd pressing against you?  Yet you ask, ‘Who touched me?’”  But Jesus looked around carefully to see who had done it.

The woman, full of fear and trembling, came forward.  Knowing what had happened to her, she fell down in front of Jesus and told him the whole truth.  He responded, “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace, be healed from your disease.”

While Jesus was still speaking with her, messengers came from the synagogue leader’s house, saying to Jairus, “Your daughter has died.  Why bother the teacher any longer?”

But Jesus overheard their report and said to the synagogue leader, “Don’t be afraid, just keep trusting.”  He didn’t allow anyone to follow him except Peter, James, and John, James’ brother.  They came to the synagogue leader’s house, and he saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly.  He went in and said to them, “What’s all this commotion and crying about?  The child isn’t dead.  She’s only sleeping.”  They laughed at him, but he threw them all out.  Then, taking the child’s parents and his disciples with him, he went to the room where the child was.  Taking her by the hand, he said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Young woman, get up.”  Suddenly the young woman got up and began to walk around.  She was 12 years old.  They were shocked!  He gave them strict orders that no one should know what had happened.  Then he told them to give her something to eat.

 

Have you ever been interrupted?  How does it feel when someone interrupts you?

Life is full of interruptions.  Despite our best efforts and diligent planning, many things do not turn out exactly as we had hoped or expected.  As Robert Burns famously wrote, “The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry” (To a Mouse, on Turning Up in Her Nest with the Plough, 1785).  Our best plans and preparation are prone to interruption.

Sometimes an interruption is just an interruption.  But sometimes, life’s interruptions are an opportunity for God’s love to break through our best-laid plans.

In today’s Scripture from the 5th chapter of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus has just returned to the western side of the Sea of Galilee.  It’s said that sound travels quickly across water, which must be true: news of Jesus’ calming the storm and casting out demons has made it back across the sea before he did.  A large crowd is there to greet him, they are pressing in close, and they want to see what else Jesus is going to do.

Him

At the edge of the crowd stood a man named Jairus.  He was one of the leaders in the synagogue, an important and respected person in town.  He was also father to a dying girl. 

Her parents named her Talitha, which means “beautiful little girl.”  It’s a term of endearment, and for Jairus, it may as well have meant “Daddy’s little princess.”  She was the apple of his eye, and no father has ever loved a daughter more than Jairus loved his precious Talitha.

About a year ago, six months before her twelfth birthday, she had gotten ill.  At first they thought it was some sort of a bug that would run its course and be gone in a few days, but she had slowly gotten sicker and weaker.  They had called in specialist after specialist, who came and ran tests, poked and prodded, diagnosed and prescribed - but she was no better.  She was slowly slipping away, and the well-known bouyancy in Jairus’ walk was replaced by the plodding pace of someone who carries too much of the world’s weight upon his shoulders.

Jairus was there to see Jesus, but here’s the problem: Jesus was a controversial figure, particularly among his fellow religious leaders.  There were some who thought Jesus was ok and even intriguing, but others viewed him with suspicion and contempt.  Jesus was a threat to every tradition they held dear, and he was turning the world upside-down.

Jairus knew, deep down in his heart of hearts, that Jesus was the only one who could help his daughter.  But, he also knew that going to Jesus would potentially put him at odds with his peers, cost him his reputation and standing in the community, possibly even cost him his job and way of life.  And look at this crowd!  He would most certainly be spotted.  There was no approaching Jesus secretly or quietly - coming to Jesus would most certainly be public, and being seen with Jesus could cost him everything.

What seems like a dilemma to us was a no-brainer to Jairus.  The unconditional love of a father wins out every time, and nothing - nothing! - is going to get in love’s way.  He pushes his way through the crowd toward Jesus, and Jairus - important, respectable, proud Jairus - falls to his knees at Jesus’ feet and says, “Please help.  My little girl needs you.  I need you.  Please, Jesus, help me.”

Jesus agrees to go, and tears of hope stream down Jairus’ face.  He jumps to his feet, grabs Jesus by the hand, and begins to lead him through the crowd toward his house.

Her

Jairus wasn’t the only one looking for Jesus that day.  Another familiar figure was slinking through the crowd, her posture hunched and her pace slow, also like someone with the world’s weight upon her shoulders.  She was stealthily, discreetly, creeping toward Jesus.

Her internal bleeding had gone on for 12 years now, and if the physical pain of that wasn’t bad enough, the social stigma that came with it was even worse.  “Unclean,” they called her.  Can you believe it?  Unclean!  She had been turned into an outcast in her own community, as even her own friends and family turned away from her.  She knew Jesus right away when she saw him, but she also recognized the man escorting Jesus through the crowd.  It was that man from the synagogue, the one who had turned her away on more than one occasion when she came to beg a few small coins from those coming to worship.  He had said it was just a matter of propriety – what would happen to everyone if he allowed an unclean person to enter in and mingle with the rest of the community?  “It’s not personal,” he always said, but it was certainly personal to her.

How can it not be personal to be cast aside and treated like yesterday’s garbage?  How can it not be personal to yearn for a deeper connection with a loving God, yet banned from making that connection by the very people who claimed to be closest to God?  How can it not be personal, when you desire the support of a loving community, yet the community treats you with judgment and exclusion?  How can it not be personal, when you’re desperate for hope, yet told by those around you that you are hopeless?

So she’s been told - unless, unless, unless - she can get to Jesus.  Lord knows she doesn’t want to create a scene and become the unwanted center of attention.  If she can just get close enough to feel the fringes of his garment run through her hand, surely that would be all she needs.

She crept closer.  No one was paying any attention to her.  Jesus and the synagogue leader were walking this way.  Jesus was going to walk right past her, and as he passed, she reached out and the trailing edge of Jesus’ robe whispered across her open palm, so lightly that the fabric didn’t even tug or buckle, but it was enough!  She knew she was healed, and no one would have to know how it happened.

Except, Jesus wouldn’t let it go.  Sensing that power had gone out from him, he immediately began to look around and ask, “Who touched me?  Who touched me?”  Jairus, having seen the woman creeping through the crowd, secretly prayed, “Please God, anyone but her, anyone but that woman, anyone but that unclean woman.”

He knew that if it had been her, she would ruin everything.  If she had touched Jesus, now he would be unclean, and unable to come and pray over the leader’s daughter until he had been ritually purified, and by then, it would be too late.  What business did this woman, this unclean woman, have touching someone as important as Jesus.

She knew she wasn’t going to get to stay incognito, so she might as well come clean.  Embarrassed, she mumbled, “I did it.  I reached out for you, Jesus.”

Jairus’ heart sank, and then he became furious.  Didn’t she see that Jesus was on his way somewhere important to do something important for someone important, and they didn’t have the time for this interruption?  But, before he could even blurt out, “Who do you think you are?” Jesus tells her and everyone around who he thinks she is.

Jesus

He says, “Daughter, you faith has healed you; go in peace.”  And that word, “daughter,” pierced Jairus like an arrow.  “Daughter” is a word that means something to him.  He thinks of his own daughter and his love for her and his willingness to do anything for her, and then his mind flashes back to the ways he has treated this woman – the times he has run her out of the synagogue and crossed the street to avoid her - the ways he has treated her like a pain or a nuisance, and here Jesus is, calling her “Daughter,” a term not terribly different from “Talitha.”

Jairus’ head is still spinning from this revelation, but he’s starting to get the picture.  Jesus is addressing this woman with the same sort of unconditional love as Jairus has for his own daughter; could it be that Jesus loves this outcast woman in the same way?  And if that’s true, what might that mean for how Jesus loves every other outcast, every other person on life’s margins, every other person we have rushed to call “unclean?”  Could the love of God fill our hearts and lead us to see others as Jesus sees them - not as interruptions, but as somebody important, somebody who matters, somebody who is part of the family of God?

Jesus calls the woman, ‘Daughter,’ a term of affection and endearment that signals one very clear thing: she matters.  Jesus wouldn’t just let the healing go unnoticed because he wanted it known, publicly, how he saw her and loved her as his own.

My friend Logan served as the Associate Pastor to the American Church in London after seminary.  He had opportunity to be in a setting where the queen was speaking to an audience of about 200 people.  During her speech, someone’s mobile phone started ringing.  She stepped back from the podium, politely folded her hands, looked at the person and said, “You might want to take that - it could be somebody important!”

If the Queen of England herself looked at Jesus and said, “You might want to attend to that woman; she could be somebody important,” Jesus would say, “She is somebody important.  She matters.  She’s part of the family of God.

On that day beside the Sea of Galilee, Jairus came face-to-face with his own prejudice, which made him quick to call “unclean” someone who was, in reality, a precious part of the family of God, someone made in God’s image, someone meant for more than a life of cruel labels.  The woman who, at first he viewed as an interruption to his plans for Jesus, he came to see as someone who needed Jesus just as much as he did.

Jesus would heal not one, but two daughters that day.  Turns out there’s plenty of Jesus to go around.

Son Burn (Acts 2:1-21)

When Pentecost Day arrived, they were all together in one place.  Suddenly a sound from heaven like the howling of a fierce wind filled the entire house where they were sitting.  They saw what seemed to be individual flames of fire alighting on each one of them.  They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit enabled them to speak.

There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.  When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered.  They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages.  They were surprised and amazed, saying, “Look, aren’t all the people who are speaking Galileans, every one of them?  How then can each of us hear them speaking in our native language?  Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; as well as residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the regions of Libya bordering Cyrene; and visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the mighty works of God in our own languages!”  They were all surprised and bewildered.  Some asked each other, “What does this mean?”  Others jeered at them, saying, “They’re full of new wine!”

Peter stood with the other eleven apostles.  He raised his voiced and declared, “Judeans and everyone living in Jerusalem!  Know this!  Listen carefully to my words!  These people aren’t drunk, as you suspect; after all, it’s only nine o’clock in the morning!  Rather, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

‘In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people.  Your sons and daughters will prophesy.  Your young will see visions.  Your elders will dream dreams.  Even upon my servants, men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days and they will prophesy.  I will cause wonders to occur in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and a cloud of smoke.  The sun will changed into darkness, and the moon will be changed into blood, before the great and spectacular day of the Lord comes.  And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’

 

Today is Pentecost Sunday – a great Christian festival with Jewish roots that occurs exactly 50 days after Easter Sunday.  The day marks the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the first followers of Jesus, as we have just read in our scripture passage from Acts 2.

Today’s sermon is interactive.  You all have received Holy Spirit ribbons this morning when you arrived, and when you wave it, if you use a little imagination, it might look like a tongue of fire in your hand – a representation of the Holy Spirit, And so, every time during the sermon when I say, “Let every Christian pray,” you wave your Holy Spirit ribbon and respond, “Come, Holy Spirit.”  Let’s practice.  May we pray.

Many Christians mark today as the birthday of the Church.  I know of many churches who are having birthday parties today, complete with cake and ice cream, balloons and streamers, party hats and noise-makers, to say, “Happy Birthday, Church!”

Our celebration today highlights a different facet of the story.  Namely, when the first followers of Jesus received the Holy Spirit, they had a fire lit within them, and the mighty, rushing wind of the Holy Spirit blew them out into the world outside to declare the good news of God’s grace for all people.  And so, we have gathered on the lawn today, a sign of being blown out of our own comfort zone as the first disciples were so long ago, a reminder that we are to take the message of God’s love for the world in Christ outside of ourselves, and share it freely with the world around us.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

The book of Acts recounts the Church’s beginnings, a time when the Holy Spirit could be sensed upon every member of the church.  It was a time when the Gospel was proclaimed boldly and clearly, when believers were said to be of one heart and mind and shared everything they had with each other.  Read to the end of chapter 2, and you’ll see that on the first Pentecost, because of the Holy Spirit, the church grew in one day from 120 to 3000.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

Like any golden age, it didn’t last for long.  Just a few chapters after the Holy Spirit is poured out, you’ll find those early followers of Jesus bickering, gossiping, fighting, and acting like – well, ordinary people – people who probably sincerely desire to follow Jesus, but for whom the cares and ways of the world too easily crowd out the influence of the Holy Spirit.

But, just because the Holy Spirit-filled church was short-lived, doesn’t mean it was unimportant.  The description of the church on that first Pentecost stands as a beacon of what can be, and foretaste of the heavenly kingdom, and if it happened once, it can surely happen again.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

Part of the reason we celebrate Pentecost is simply to remind us about our own story – that we as the church, as the followers of Jesus, as the body of Christ on earth – are at our God-given best when we are filled with the Holy Spirit.  Let me say that again: we, as the church, as the followers of Jesus, as the body of Christ on earth – are at our God-given best when we are filled with the Holy Spirit.  Pentecost is an opportunity to reset our spiritual compass to true north, to invite the fire and wind of the Holy Spirit to burn off and blow away everything that keeps our lives from reflecting the glory of God.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

How can we know if we are filled with the Holy Spirit?  Galatians 5 gives us a glimpse with The Fruit of the Spirit.  Just as you know an apple tree by the fruit on its limbs, people know Christians when they see the fruit of the Spirit – “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23).

Another way that I think of the fruit of the Spirit is that they are like a sunburn.  Stay with me for a minute.  So, when I was a junior in college, I shared a house with five other guys, four of whom were already starting to lose their hair.  I wasn’t one of them, and so of course I poked fun at my balding friends.  But, you know how they say, “You reap what you sow?”  True story!  One spring afternoon I went out to play golf – covered, like always, in sunscreen on my face and neck and arms, and when I came home that evening and ran my hands across the top of my head – ouch!  It was a little tender up there.  It turns out some of my natural cover had gone missing, and I now had a sore, red, badge of honor on the top of my head that let everyone know I had spent some time in the sun.

Likewise, the fruit of the Spirit – love  joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control – these indicate that we have spent some time in THE Son – the S-O-N Son of God, and that our hearts have been filled with the Holy Spirit.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

Last Sunday was Ascension Sunday, in which we stood among the disciples as they watched Jesus ascend into heaven.  He promised us the gift of the Holy Spirit, but told the disciples to do something in preparation.  He told them to watch, and to wait, and to pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit.  There were a full ten days between the Ascension and Pentecost, during which time the disciples devoted themselves fully to watching, waiting, and praying for the Holy Spirit.

What would happen if we did the same thing?  If we had the same dedication, the same devotion, the same desire for the Holy Spirit to be poured out on us?  In no way do I want to suggest that we somehow can turn on and off the Holy Spirit like a light switch, but at the same time, we can certainly let God know there’s room in here.  The Spirit is always on the lookout for open containers – hearts that are willing to be blown open, and lives that are willing to burn with holy fire, all for the glory of God.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

On Pentecost, we are reminded that we are at our God-given best when we’re filled with the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit is fuel for the fire and wind beneath the wings of anyone, anywhere, who is doing the work of God in the world.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

The Holy Spirit is still on the move – in every place where mighty winds blow open locked doors, and where the barriers to God’s unconditional grace are being burned to the ground.  The Holy Spirit is still on the move, bringing God’s good news to all people.  The Holy Spirit is still on the move, and we get the privilege to tag along.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”

Tom Long tells the story of teaching 3 10-year-old girls in a small church he served the basics of the Christian faith.  He got to the story of Pentecost, and asked, “Do you know what Pentecost is?”  They didn’t.  So he said, “Well, Pentecost is when the church was all gathered in one place, and the Holy Spirit came down as tongues of fire from heaven and landed on their heads and they spoke the gospel in all the languages of the world!”

Two of the girls took that rather calmly, but the other’s eyes turned as big as saucers.  When she could finally speak, she said, “Reverend Long, I must have been absent that Sunday."

He said, “The beautiful thing is not that she misunderstood.  The beautiful thing is that she thought it could have happened in our church, that God’s Spirit could have come even to our little congregation and given us a word to speak that [our neighbors] desperately needed to hear.”

The beautiful thing about Pentecost is not that it only happened once, long ago, in a land far, far away.  It is still happening, in exciting, and – yes – unpredictable ways – in hearts that are open to the Holy Spirit.  On Pentecost, we celebrate God’s gift of the Holy Spirit to the church.  We are tinged with holy fire and blown out into the world with God’s good news.  “Let every Christian pray” – “Come, Holy Spirit!”