Sermon for Feb. 22, 2009 -- Transfiguration Day

A Crisis of Fear

Mark 9:2-9

Some of you may have heard the name Clarence Jordan. He was a prophet for racial integration in the South. In 1942, after receiving his doctorate in Greek from Southern Baptist Seminary, he returned to his native Georgia and established a place called Koinonia farm. It was an experiment in Christian interracial community living, a concept that was not widely accepted in the 40’s by the general public. Koinonia Farm eventually became the inspiration for Habitat for Humanity. However, at the time, Jordon was often persecuted for his vision of what the church should be. It’s told that at one time, when Jordon was being harassed, he asked his lawyer brother for legal help. His brother had political aspirations. He realized that helping such a radical cause would jeopardize his future career. And so, he refused to help. Clarence challenged his brother to go back to the rural church where they had both walked down the aisle to accept Christ and explain something to the folks there. Clarence said, “Tell them what you really meant to say was that you admire Jesus, not that you want to follow him.”

Jordan’s comment raises a question that I constantly ask myself. Do I admirefollow him? We Christian are good at saying the right words and performing the bare minimum requirements that we think will secure our place in God’s favor. But do we really follow Jesus? Do we back up our words with actions that demonstrate we are followers of the God of suffering love? This morning we will look to Mark’s account of the transfiguration as we think about these questions. Jesus or do I want to

Six days later Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain to be alone. As the men watched, Jesus’ appearance was transformed, and his clothes became dazzling white, far whiter than any earthly bleach could ever make them. Then Elijah and Moses appeared and began talking with Jesus. Peter exclaimed, “Rabbi, it’s wonderful for us to be here! Let’s make three shelters as memorials — one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He said this because he didn’t really know what else to say, for they were all terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him.” Suddenly, when they looked around, Moses and Elijah were gone, and they saw only Jesus with them. As they went back down the mountain, he told them not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Mark’s gospel gives the reader some honest details that the other gospel writers leave out. Mark depicts the disciples as colossal failures. As you read Mark’s gospel, you will notice that at every key moment in Jesus’ life, the disciples fail to understand the significance of his actions. Mark has a great way of describing this. He says that the disciples were afraid. When Jesus heals a demon-possessed Gentile, the disciples were afraid. When Jesus walks on water, the Greek indicates that the disciples were shaken to their souls with fear. At the empty tomb, the women tremble with astonishment. Most New Testament scholars agree that Mark intended his gospel to end with the words “they were afraid.” With this in mind, we come to Mark’s story of the transfiguration of Jesus.

Did you notice how Mark described the disciple’s reactions when Jesus starts glowing and talking to dead prophets? The Greek indicates that they are frightened out of their wits. For Mark, fear is an indication to us, the readers, that something has gone wrong. The disciples consistently fail to see who Jesus is, what he has come to do, and what he asks them to do. They are so terrified that they become ineffective disciples. It is truly a crisis of fear.

Have you ever felt like a failed disciple? Have you ever felt ineffective because you were afraid of what Jesus may ask you to do? I’ve heard people express their fears in many ways:
“What happens if I get serious about following Jesus? Will I lose control of my life? Will God ask me to do things that I don’t want to do?” Let’s explore some ways in which today’s text can teach us how to overcome our fears and become the disciples we are called to be.

This account begins with the words, “After six days.” Less than one week before this event, Jesus asked the disciples to tell him the local gossip. Word on the street said that Jesus was a reincarnation of John the Baptist, or Elijah returned to earth, or both. Remember Elijah – we heard about him in our first reading from 2 Kings? Jesus then asks another question: “If that’s what people are saying, what do you think? Who do you say I am?” Peter courageously answers, “You are the Christ.” Now, less than one week later, Peter is so scared at the sight of Jesus, he addresses Jesus not as Christ but as Rabbi, the word for teacher. Peter’s use of the word Rabbi or teacher here seems strange. It’s as if Peter is still thinks of Jesus as a teacher of the law, not as the Messiah.

The mount of transfiguration is a place where the heavens burst open and confront humankind with the glory of God. The realm of God breaks into human affairs and astounds us with the reality of who Jesus is. Jesus is more than a great prophet or teacher. He is God’s beloved Son who boldly stands beside trembling disciples in the presence of God.

I think that if we want to overcome fear and be better disciples, then we need to see Jesus for who he really is. Who is Jesus for you today? A prophet? A teacher? A great historical figure or a superhuman being? Or, is Jesus the glorified Son of God and Savior? When we can see Jesus for who is really is, we are changed. (1 John 3:2-3). Our journey of discipleship begins on the mountaintop where we come face-to-face with the terrifying yet glorious presence of God. We climb the mountain and see Jesus for who he really is. We allow ourselves to be transformed by his compassionate love.

I wish I could end this sermon on the mountaintop, but it would be deceptive to tell you that we could stay there, nervously basking in the glory of God. Some say that Peter’s biggest mistake is that he wants to make this mountaintop experience permanent. He offers to build shelters for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah to commemorate the event. But, seeing the glory of God is only part of the experience. Jesus and the three disciples can’t stay on the mountaintop. They must come down and deal with the reality that awaits them. It’s no mistake that Mark sandwiches the story of the transfiguration between two predictions of Jesus’ upcoming agony and death. From this point on, Jesus will preach a message of suffering, the cross, and death. It’s a future that he and anyone who wishes to follow him must endure. The glorious vision may be what the disciples want to see, but it’s the message of suffering that all must hear. Even in his terror, Peter seems willing to be impressed by a transformed Jesus, but he seems unwilling to accept the word of suffering that Jesus preaches. The realm of God is not the result of seeing Jesus’ glowing garments. It is the result descending the mountain and practicing Jesus’ central definition of discipleship. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me” (8:34).

I don’t know about you, but this is the point where I start to get afraid. What happens when we follow Jesus down the mountain and put these words into practice? We know what happens to the disciples. By the end of Mark’s Gospel, those who claim to follow Jesus will not be able to follow him to the cross. They will take to their heels and run away in fear. To be better disciples, we need to put dreams of glory aside and walk in the steps of the suffering Christ.

One more point. Becoming better disciples involves listening. You may not want to listen to me at this point, but hang in there. This is where the good part comes in. Let’s go back to the mountain for a moment and pay attention to the action. After Peter panics, a cloud covers the mountain and a voice declares, “This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him.” The cloud represents the presence of God. The voice repeats the words we’ve already heard at Jesus’ baptism (1:11) and then commands the disciples to listen. In response, the next words out of Jesus’ mouth are about suffering. The problem with the disciples is that they never get it. Even after hearing a divine voice, they never truly listen and understand.

For those of us who are afraid, for those who lack courage to take up the cross and follow, Scripture encourages us with two words: Fear not! The Bible is stubborn on this affirmation. When confronted with terror, God says, “Fear not.” I must admit, on my more cynical days I say, “Year, right. If I went on a backpacking trip with Jesus and he transformed before my eyes and shined like the bright morning sun, and then the most famous prophets of history appeared to shoot the breeze, and then a thick cloud smothered me and I heard a voice talking to me from within the water vapor, and then it all instantly disappeared and Jesus said, ‘I’m going to die, and by the way, let’s just keep all this between you and me,’ I would be stricken with fear and confusion.” And then Jesus says, “Fear not!?”

God’s antidote to fear is courage. We can hear the words “fear not” because Jesus is able to sympathize with our weaknesses in every way. We can hear the words “fear not” because God can transform our fear into faith and give us the strength to follow Jesus.

Do you just admire Jesus, or are you ready to follow him? Our path to better discipleship begin when we can answer these three questions:

1. Who is Jesus to you?

2. What is Jesus asking you to do as his follower?

3. Are you afraid to do it? If so, hear the word of the Lord. “Fear not!”

Sermon for February 15, 2009

Be Clean!
Mark 1:40-45

A man with leprosy came and knelt in front of Jesus, begging to be healed. “If you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean,” he said. Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out and touched him. “I am willing,” he said. “Be healed!” Instantly the leprosy disappeared, and the man was healed. Then Jesus sent him on his way with a stern warning: “Don’t tell anyone about this. Instead, go to the priest and let him examine you. Take along the offering required in the law of Moses for those who have been healed of leprosy. This will be a public testimony that you have been cleansed.” But the man went and spread the word, proclaiming to everyone what had happened. As a result, large crowds soon surrounded Jesus, and he couldn’t publicly enter a town anywhere. He had to stay out in the secluded places, but people from everywhere kept coming to him.

When I was growing up, in the high school cafeteria the kids you sat down with to eat your lunch were always the same people. Woe unto you if you dared to sit at the table of the popular kids, or the geeks, or the jocks! You had to be with your group. How many of you went back to your 20th reunion, years later, to find that the same old factions were still there? People still sat at tables with the same old groups, and there was no attempt to cross those old invisible boundaries that divided us all.

We learned at an early age to make snap judgments about people. We divide people into groups all the time: Those we like and those we don't; those who are “my kind of people,” and those who aren't. In the process, we shut out many people who we could come to have close friendships with. If only we'd get beyond those mental boundaries that have shut them out.

Too often we're like the children of The Secret Society of 9. Harpers magazine once published the rules of their club:

1. Do not tell a white lie, unless necessary.
2. Do not hurt anyone in any way.
3. Do not hit anyone-- except Ronny.
4. Do not use words worse than "brat"
5. Do not curse at all.
6. Do not make faces, except at Ronny.
7. Do not be selfish.
8. Do not make a hog or a pig of yourself.
9. Do not tattle, except on Ronny.
10. Do not steal, except from Ronny.
11. Do not destroy other people's property, except Ronny's.
12. Do not be a sneak.
13. Do not be grumpy, except to Ronny
14. Do not answer back, except to Ronny

Poor Ronny! We can be like the children in that club. We can be so selective in who we relate to in God’s world. Around how many places in your life, have fences been put up to keep others out who we don't like, or aren't our kind, or just aren't in our group. We even become selective in the sharing of God's love--sharing it with everyone, except the Ronnies of the world. Who are the people in your world whom you've failed to reach out to and love?

We put fences up all around us. They give us some comfort. Fences keep danger out. Fences protect those who dwell within them. In her book Odd Girl Out, Rachel Simmons researched incidences of girls who exclude one another in school and social circles. She found that the practice of exclusion among young girls was extremely common. Simmons tells the story of Jenny. Jenny moved from San Diego to Wyoming during her seventh grade year. Two popular girls, who felt threatened by her arrival, made a point to force all the other girls in that grade sign a pledge to call Jenny a secret nasty code name, to exclude her from all activities and to torment her in ways that would not be recognized by the teachers. Jenny spent an entire school year afraid to walk in the halls of her new school. On the outside of the circle looking in, she was the leper of her seventh grade Wyoming class. Many women remember similar incidents, from their childhoods. They have experienced the feeling of being excluded from human society. Many men also remember being the victim of the class bully. For some reason the bully picks them out as the victim, and through verbal and physical abuse isolates them from the social structure.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus obliterates fences that have put up to contain and exclude God’s people. When approached by a man with leprosy, Jesus touches the man and says “Be Clean.” The leper is instantly cured. I don’t know if we really understand how bold Jesus was. We can’t fathom the risks he took in order to break down the fences that keep people from entering fully into relationship with God and one another.

In Jesus’ day, the term leprosy embraced a wide range of disorders including rashes, acne, eczema and other forms of dermatitis. There was no treatment. Because of the fear of infection, lepers were banned from all contact with other people. They lived in isolated bands, begging at a distance for food. It is hard to imagine a more miserable and hopeless group of outcasts. To make matters worse, it was commonly believed that lepers were suffering for their sins. Lepers were seen as sinners who were abandoned by God to the powers of evil. Leprosy caused fear and repulsion. It marks its victim as morally repugnant. When the leper approaches Jesus, he probably shouts “Unclean! Unclean!” to warn the crowds away from danger. Nobody wanted to be polluted by his presence, either physically or spiritually. In a sense, lepers had to carry their fences around with them. The only hope for a cure was from a holy person.

Jesus does not run away. He responds to the person who has been pushed to the margins of society. According to one set of ancient manuscripts, when the leper approaches Jesus and begs for healing, Jesus is moved with pity. Out of compassion, Jesus touches him and proclaims him clean. That is what we heard in today’s reading.

Another translation follows a different reading found in a second set of ancient manuscripts. According to this set, when the leper approaches Jesus and begs for healing, Jesus is moved by anger. With a snort of rage, Jesus touches him and proclaims him clean.

So, which set of manuscripts reflects Mark’s original intent? Was Mark depicting a sympathetic, compassionate Jesus moved by the leper’s suffering to heal him? Or was Mark depicting an angry Jesus with a bad temper?

I can see where both emotions, compassion and anger, would have been appropriate. Jesus shows compassion to a person forced to live on the edges or boundaries of society. Jesus shows a grunt of anger at the wickedness of a system that labels a person as a sinner because of a skin rash. Jesus decided to do something about it. He healed this leper by touching him directly. By doing so, Jesus made a clear statement that this man was not impure -- that he could be touched without fear of infection -- that he ought not to have been cast out. In one bold action, Jesus restores this man. His health returns. More than that, he is allowed to reenter society. With a touch, with a word, Jesus knocks over the fence. The limits are gone.

People of God, be careful where you draw lines. Whenever you draw a line that marks who is in and who is outside of the fence, remember -- Jesus is always on the other side of the line!

One of the great stories of compassion that has the mark of Jesus all over it involves an elderly crippled lady who lived in Missouri during World War II. She spent most days lying on a day bed, knitting socks and other garments for her church’s thrift shop. Her husband was a small-town newspaper publisher. He came home one day and told her that the son of a friend of theirs had been killed on the battlefields of Europe. She asked him, “What can I do for his mother? I pray for the soldiers, but I want to do more.” His response was, “You have a compassionate spirit. Write his mother a note and let her know how much you love her and that her son is in the arms of Jesus.” She did just that. In fact, for the next three years she wrote more than 300 notes to mothers who had sons killed in the war. She showed her compassion by touching the lives of hurting people. She was a servant of the grace of Jesus.

That woman reminds me of Jesus’ vision of the Realm of God. God’s world is one of inclusive wholeness. Jesus restores people’s humanity and life. He invites people to grasp new opportunities to rejoin the community. We miss the point if we insist this story is about a supernatural curing that depends on the intervention of God. We can be the hands that touch a wounded soul. We can express the words that soothe a wounded spirit. We can be the arms that hold and hug a person who may be dying. We can be the friends who sit and listen and love another because we see a child of God in need. We reach out in prayer, with a touch, with a word.

The God of Jesus, is a God of graciousness and goodness who accepts everyone and brings about justice and well-being for everyone . . .without exception. That’s worth celebrating.
And where it is denied, that’s worth getting angry about!

Sermon for February 8, 2009

The Demands of Discipleship
Mark 1:29-39
February 8, 2008

After Jesus left the synagogue with James and John, they went to Simon and Andrew’s home. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was sick in bed with a high fever. They told Jesus about her right away. So he went to her bedside, took her by the hand, and helped her sit up. Then the fever left her, and she prepared a meal for them. That evening after sunset, many sick and demon-possessed people were brought to Jesus. The whole town gathered at the door to watch. So Jesus healed many people who were sick with various diseases, and he cast out many demons. But because the demons knew who he was, he did not allow them to speak. Before daybreak the next morning, Jesus got up and went out to an isolated place to pray. Later Simon and the others went out to find him. When they found him, they said, “Everyone is looking for you.” But Jesus replied, “We must go on to other towns as well, and I will preach to them, too. That is why I came.” So he traveled throughout the region of Galilee, preaching in the synagogues and casting out demons.

The previous day had been quite demanding for Jesus. The new one promises to be the same. The previous day he taught in the synagogue in Capernaum. He called the demons out of a possessed man. Now the people will not leave him alone. News about him spreads quickly over the whole region of Galilee. The people press upon him with their problems, bringing him their diseased to be healed.

It was for this reason that Jesus came to us. His mission was to meet the needs of humankind, but there were so many of them. How would Jesus them all? Given his own humanity, where would he get the strength to keep up the pace, to continually face the crowd with the fresh new teaching that they desperately needed, to keep on giving of himself in limitless ways?

Sound familiar? If Jesus needed help, what about you and me? Given the demands placed upon our time, our energies, our resources that are simply a part of living from day to day, how do we find the time and energy to be faithful followers of God. Everyday there are needs to be met, decisions to be made, business to be attended to. Everyday there are people to relate to, conflicts to be resolved, actions that require more than we in our own strength alone can achieve. If Jesus needed help, what about you and me?

Here’s how Jesus did it, “Before daybreak Jesus got up and went out to an isolated place to pray.”

Jesus knew he needed help. He knew that he could not live in this world without God. If he was going to spend himself for others, he must spend time spiritually refreshing himself. Jesus knew that it was not humanly possible to accomplish all that he needed to complete every day of his life by his own strength alone. He also knew that he didn't have to. Not when his loving Father was ever present, ready to provide, whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, however he needed it. All he had to do was ask. Remember, the Bible says we have not because we ask not. If we ask, we will receive.

Jesus didn't leave his meeting with God to chance. It appears from this text that he had an appointed time and place. His favorite time for his meeting with God was early morning. It takes discipline to get up in the morning for anything, and yet Jesus felt it was important enough. Some of us wouldn’t think of starting our day without a cup of coffee, but we start the day without God. We wouldn’t dare leave the house without a shower, but we leave without a serious time of prayer. My question is, can we manage not to? We already know that tomorrow will be a busy day. The demands put upon us will drain our energy and put our knowledge and talents to use. But what does our discipleship demand? How can we meet the needs around us without being filled with the energy and authority that only God can give?

That’s why we pray. Prayer is coming to God. Prayer is seeking God. Prayer is the appeal of the soul to God. Prayer is standing before God as “an empty pitcher before a full fountain.” Prayer is connecting with God who is the power source. Prayer is opening ourselves up to God for nourishment, as the flowers and trees open up to their environment: the air, the sunlight, and the rain. Prayer is communing with God. Prayer is living an intimate relationship with God. In prayer, we surrender all that we are to all that God is. In prayer, Jesus sought the strength that only communion with God could provide. If Jesus needed this in his life, what about you and me?

Prayer is everything. It’s what we do on Sunday, and what we do on Monday. Prayer is life. Prayer is an inner journey, and a relationship with a lover or friend. Prayer is practice and reflection. Prayer is silence and sound. Prayer is union and communion. Prayer is protest and passion. Prayer is intimacy and obedience. Prayer is everything.

Let’s be honest, shall we? Most of our meetings with God are not planned. Our prayers are occasional, spontaneous, spur of the moment prayers. If we meet with God, it’s usually an emergency or a crisis. Our backs are up against the wall, bills are due, a child is sick, it’s the end of the semester and there are exams to take, too many papers to write, too many proposals to get in, we need help. “I know what I’ll do,” we say, “I’ll ask God for help.” If the truth be told, we have tried everything else, now we will try God.

Is that the way to carry on a relationship with the lover of our souls? Is that how we should approach the one who loves us above all else – the one whom we say we love with heart, soul, mind, and strength? If you love God, why not take time to talk to God and let God talk to you?

In the Christian mystic tradition, there is a spiritual discipline called “practicing the presence of God.” It means really believing what we learned in Sunday School classes, confirmation sessions, and what we hear in sermons is actually true —God exists; God is always with us; God always loves us; God always helps us even when we don’t understand what God is doing. God is doing something new, even when we fear that God is doing nothing at all. “Practicing the presence of God,” means trusting that God are loves us fully and eternally. There is not a single moment in time when God is not with us. There is not a single experience in which God is absent.

Prayer grows out of the awareness that God is everywhere and in everything we do. Mary Oliver expresses this awareness in her poem “The Summer Day”:
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

We practice the presence of God as we go about our daily tasks. Routine chores take on a sacred dimension when we practice the presence of God while doing them. Something as simple as eating has the power to make us sensitive to God’s presence. This form of praying is one of the easiest ways to pray. All in requires is that you accept the reality of God’s presence with you. Because of God’s presence, every thing we do, every movement we make, has a spiritual, a sacred dimension to it.

I think that some of us have a hard time with this because we don’t know what to say. We want to pray, but our minds go blank. We are like the child who accompanied his father to run some errands. When lunchtime arrived, the two of them went to a diner for a sandwich. The father sat down on one of the stools at the counter and lifted the boy up to the seat beside him. They ordered lunch, and when the waiter brought the food, the father said, “Son, we’ll just have a silent prayer.” Dad got through praying first and waited for the boy to finish his prayer, but he just sat with his head bowed for an unusually long time. When he finally looked up, his father asked him, “What in the world were you praying about all that time?” With the innocence and honesty of a child, he replied, “How do I know? It was a silent prayer.”

So, let me give you some words to try out. When you are about to begin a job or task, pause and offer up a prayer like this:

You, O God, are the creator of the whole world and of everything that is in it. You are found, not in lofty words or elaborate plans, but here, in the simple moments of life. Help me to know your presence, no matter what tasks lays before me. Use my heart and my hands for your glory. Amen.

Try it. Say something like this throughout your day, every day. Image what will happen inside of you, within your family, within our church if we began to pray like this. I think a few things will begin to happen.

First we will see Christ. Rather than looking for seeing sinners and unclean folk, we will see the world through what one church father called “grace-healed eyes.” We will look at the poor, the downtrodden, and the outcasts of society and see none other than the very image of the Son of God. This day I will not look for an enemy. In prayer, I see the potential for new relationships as I look at others with grace-healed eyes. When we practice the presence of God, we will see Christ.

Not only that, when we practice the presence of God, we will become like Christ. That’s the goal of our faith, isn’t it? We begin to take on the character traits of Jesus. His voice is my voice. His love is my love. His heart is my heart. His anger is my anger. His suffering for the world is mine. His involvement with the outcast is mine. His emphasis on the weightier matters will be mine. His impatience with religious squabbles that hurt people will be implanted in my own heart.
I think we will find something else begin to happen. We will find strength to be disciples. We will face the demands around us with energy, intelligence, imagination and love. The presence of God will refresh us. Our relationship with God will renew us. And you will begin to live in a spirit of prayer.

Sermon for February 1, 2009

Touching Evil
Mark 1:21-28

I admit it – when it comes to the remote control usage in our house, I claim final authority. I sit in my favorite chair and scroll through the channels with the futile hope that if I flip through them fast enough and often enough, something interesting will automatically appear on my TV screen. It drives the family nuts. There are three shows that always stop my eager channel-flipping thumb. They captivate me. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I get some strange pleasure from them. The first is professional wrestling. What can I say? The second show that always stops me is fundraising on PBS. Not the endless showings of that Peter, Paul and Mary documentary or the insipid doo wop reunion shows. I’m talking about the actual pleas from smiling station mangers asking to support public television. I’m watch and root for them to make their fundraising goal, although I never call to make the pledge.

The third programs that stop me are the TV Preachers. They horrify and amuse me. Some of them are so creepy. I’ll watch for five or ten minutes if I can't find anything interesting just for a laugh. My favorite is the guy who dresses like Tom Jones and sells life-sized cardboard magnetic cut-outs of himself, and videos like “Kickin' the Devil Outta Your Life!” One time he interrupted his own sermon and began looking off into the distance, as if he had just spotted Sasquatch! Then came the gibberish: “Aba-soya-lato-yachimi-changa-kudio-abasoya- ba-ba!” Then he looked straight into the camera lens and revealed: "That was a word of knowledge for YOU.” Again, a sudden gibberish attack, almost like a seizure before he became utterly serious. “There’s a housewife in suburban New Jersey and another lady in Philadelphia. You know who you are don’t you? You know who you are because you’ve been suffering with a slipped disc in your back for YEARS! Yeah, I know. Modern medicine couldn’t heal you, but this was a SUPERNATURAL thing that just happened right here in my studio! I just heard those discs snap into place. Thank you Jesus! Thank you. I’m gonna be frank with you two: you need to send in a 500, NO, A 1000-dollar vow this minute! Call me at the number at the bottom of your television screen.”

Anyone who knows me knows that I genuinely respect people’s faith. But this resembled a liquidation sale of a cheap furniture factory. Unfortunately, thousands of people who cannot discern between legitimate theology and a scam send this guy money. I recently watched another TV preacher purge a demon from a suffering man over the phone. He claimed it was the worst case that had ever called his show. It took about thirty seconds to release this man from demonic possession. We are supposed to assume that he got his miracle. But at what cost? Who gives these people their authority?

Our world is filled with so called “authorities.” They fill the media with their most confident opinions. Health experts. Sporting pundits. Dietitians. Gardening experts. Stock market advisers. Psychologists. Astrologers. Ethical analysts. Political commentators. Automotive experts. Preachers claiming the only true gospel. Authorities are everywhere. The mass media delights in trotting them out on every question. They claim to really know what they are talking about. They want to influence us, and in some cases manipulate us for their purposes. The trouble is many of these authorities do not deliver what they promise. The stock market expert accepts no responsibility when his opinion costs you thousands. The automotive expert doesn’t care if you follow his opinion and end up buying a lemon. It doesn’t matter to the TV preacher if you gave your money away on an empty promise.

Today we listen to a different kind of expert. He’s been around for a long time. In the town of Capernaum, he taught in the synagogue’s Sabbath service. Those who listened “were astonished at his teaching, for unlike the scribes he taught them with a note of authority.” He healed a deranged man and they were the more amazed “With authority he commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him.” All kinds of people came under his sway: women, men, lepers, children, the mentally ill, the physically handicapped, tax agents, laborers, call girls, soldiers, village people, city people, devout scholars, divorcees, the educated and illiterate. How can one explain it?

When Jesus of Nazareth taught, befriended, and healed people, something from deep within the human soul cried, “Yes! Yes! This is it! This is the real thing.” Jesus is a person of authority because he awakens an echo of God that lies deep inside us. We come face to face with him and something sacred, no matter how far buried under junk, resonates in his presence. A forgotten, neglected, or wounded part of us gasps with new hope. He awakens life that seems buried and bleak. Unlike the counterfeit authorities of our age, Jesus speaks to the core of our being, and that core stirs and starts to come to life.

Have you ever heard that voice, speaking to the core of your being? If not, then today is a chance to realize that Jesus, the one who speaks with God’s authority, has the power to liberate us from all that keeps us from being whole people. Christ shatters the domineering designs that shackle people to lower standards for life than God intends. Jesus stands ready to help us caste aside that which binds and constricts us, the demons that defeat our best and highest purposes. Christ stands ready with the authority of grace, which breaks the power of sin over us. Jesus speaks to our demons, and they obey.

I know. We don’t like to talk about demons. But I’m not talking about bat-winged creatures that torment you. I’m not talking about the enemies of TV evangelists and priests from horror movies. For me, any force that prevents even a single one of us from experiencing the full humanity God intends for all humanity is demonic. I think of possession as an unhealthy way of relating to God, our fellow human beings, and even our selves, that has taken root in us, taken on a life of its own, and threatens to take us over completely. I was once looking over some recovery literature and saw a piece called “A Letter From Your Addiction.” The beginning says,

I've come to visit once again. I love to see you suffer mentally physically spiritually and socially. I want to have you restless so you can never relax. I want you jumpy and nervous and anxious. I want to make you agitated and irritable so everything and everybody makes you uncomfortable. I want you to be depressed and confused so that you can’t think clearly or positively. I want to make you hate everything and everybody-especially yourself. I want you to feel guilty and remorseful for the things you have done in the past that you’ll never be able to let go. I want to make you angry and hateful toward the world for the way it is and the way you are. I want you to feel sorry for yourself and blame everything but your addiction for the way things are. I want you to be deceitful and untrustworthy, and to manipulate and con as many people as possible. I want to make you fearful and paranoid for no reason at all and I want you to wake up during all hours of the night screaming for me. You know you can’t sleep without me; I’m even in your dreams

Those are the words of evil. Addictions to alcohol, drugs, gambling, and unhealthy relationships destroy constellations of lives. The evils of racism, sexism, and homophobia haunt our communities through generations. Poverty enslaves millions around the world, keeping them uneducated, unemployed, homeless, hungry, and hopeless despite an overabundance of resources.

Maybe if we close our eyes they will go away. No, that doesn’t work. They are too real to just ignore. Maybe we can run from them? But that won’t work either. Those who have tried know that our demons follow us.

I finally watched the movie “I Am Legend” with Will Smith playing Dr. Robert Neville, a world-famous epidemiologist. It’s a remake of Omega Man starring Chuck Heston. After a cancer cure mutates into a plague, Dr. Neville finds himself the only person left in New York City, and perhaps in the entire world. Something in his blood grants him immunity from a disease that turns people into sub-human, aggressive, violent killers. Neville’s only protection is his fortified bunker, and the sunlight -- which drives back the demonic hordes until nightfall. He tirelessly works on a cure for this disease, even though he thinks he is the only human left. But why? At one point in the movie, he meets two more survivors. They are traveling to a survivor’s colony, but Neville won’t go. He says, “The people who are trying to make this world worse are not taking a day off. How can I? Light up the darkness.” I won’t give it all away, but by the end of the movie, Neville lights up the darkness. He doesn’t run and he doesn’t cover his eyes. He touches the evil around him. His courage and sacrifice give the rest of humanity a cure.

If we call ourselves disciples of Jesus, then we are called to touch some of this evil, to light up the darkness, to courageously confront the demonic in our own lives and in our communities. We are called to name the powers that bind our lives and the lives of our sisters and brothers. We are called to name the abuse, the addictions, the bigotry, the violence, the poverty, the greed, the apathy, and every other demon that haunts this old world. This is part of what it means to follow in the way of Jesus.

As we take communion today, I want us to think about the authority that God gave to Jesus, and the authority that Jesus gives to us. Many of us have demons you are dealing with today. Your job may not be going well or you may have lost it. You may be struggling with illness or are feeling the pain of someone who is. You may be depressed, anxious, nervous, or scared. You may be looking for guidance or struggling to know where God is leading you. As you take the bread and the cup, remember the unbounded compassion that moves God to embrace us in all our faults and frailty and love us even more. We need to be healed in body, mind, and soul. We need to be raised from the dead and dying places in our lives. We need to be cleansed from every division. We need to be freed from the demonic powers that keep us separated from God and one another. We need help to become the people God created us to be.

As Christians, we believe God doesn’t play it safe up in heaven while we’re all down here enduring the daily grind. We believe that God-in-Jesus is the first one in line to take up the dangerous work of loving the world through its brokenness and back to wholeness, one crack at a time. Jesus will go all the way, even to the cross, even to death, to bring us the good news. Another world is possible. So we rest on his authority. We allow him to touch the evil within us and around us. And as he does, we find the courage to share the good news through our lips and through our lives. Don’t be afraid. Light up the darkness.


Sources:
http://home.alphalink.com.au/~nigel/DocB/B060129.htm
http://michaelmanning.tv/blog/2005/10/weird-overnight-television-preachers.html
http://www.unitedchurchonthegreen.org/content/publish/sermon_2008-06-15.shtml
http://www.soberrecovery.com/forums/what-recovery/50484-letter-your-addiction.html

Sermon for January 25, 2009

Gone Fishing
Jonah 3:1-5; Mark 1:14-20

From time to time, lobsters have to leave their shells in order to grow. They need those shells to protect them from being torn apart; yet when they grow, the old shells must be abandoned. If they did not abandon them, the old shells would soon become their prisons and finally their caskets. The tricky part for the lobster is the brief period between when the old shell is discarded and the new one is formed. During that terribly vulnerable period, the transition must be scary to the lobster. Ocean currents gleefully cartwheel them from coral to kelp. Hungry schools of fish are ready to make them a part of their food chain. For a while at least, that old shell must look really good.

We are not so different from lobsters. To change and grow, we must sometimes shed our shells - the structure, the framework - that we’ve depended on. As the great scholar of mythology, Joseph Campbell used to say, “We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.”

When God asks you to leave your shell and do something outside of your comfort zone, how do you respond?

The Bible cares about answering this question. In fact, today we heard to examples of people who answered this question in different ways. The first story came from Jonah. God’s voice must have stirred Jonah with a profound experience of God’s presence and power. It is a life changing event to hear the word of the Lord. However, before Jonah can enjoy his encounter with God, shock waves begin exploding in his mind. His heart sinks when he hears God say, “Go to Nineveh.” I can just imagine Jonah’s inner protests. “God, you can’t really mean Nineveh, the capitol city of Israel’s avowed enemy! They capture and torture their enemies. Prisoners of Assyria pray for death to come and relieve their suffering. You aren’t going to use me to preach forgiveness to these cruel and violent people! I am a prophet for Israel.”

So, instead of traveling 500 miles east to Nineveh, Jonah goes west, boarding a boat sailing toward the Atlantic coast of Spain. It would be a year-and-a-half journey to the straits of Gibraltar. Jonah figures he’s escaped the Lord. He has all the time in the world. Little does he know that God REALLY wants Jonah to go to Nineveh. A turbulent storm arises, scaring the sailors out of their wits. To quell the storm, the sailors toss Jonah overboard. Instantly, the sound and the fury of the storm, the yelling, the crying, the praying and screaming cease. The sailors shudder with wonder and praise God, but not the reluctant prophet. Jonah’s going to find new perspective in the belly of a great fish that finally throws him up at the very point from where he started running from God in the first place.

Let’s be fair. God gave Jonah an impossible mission. Nineveh was a city of conquerors, with a strong commercial base, superior technology and a powerful war machine. Jonah was from the boondocks. He had no credentials for international diplomacy. Imagine yourself suddenly being sent to the Sudan where the government is perpetuating a genocide. God tells you to march through the hot desert and tell the Sudanese leaders to repent, to stop the genocide, to hold democratic elections and respect everyone’s civil rights, use their wealth for the good of all the nation’s people. Do you think you would get their leadership to change their policies?

I think I understand Jonah. I have known I am supposed to be a minister since I was about 12 years old. You know how you ask kids what they want to be when they grow up. Some kids want to be fire fighters. Some want to be President. Some want to be sport stars. I told people I wanted to be a minister. There was no vision. No voice from heaven; just the abiding sense that God had a specific path of service for my life. That vocation stayed with me throughout my teen years and throughout college. But when it was time to follow through, I ran. I prepared myself to teach High School English instead. I didn’t want to preach. I didn’t want to deal with other people’s pain. I didn’t want church people looking to me for spiritual leadership when I still had so much to learn. So, here I am as a minister. What happened? I prayed and talked with friends and spiritual guides. I searched my conscience. My alternative plans began to fall apart. No other path was satisfying. I found no peace until I followed God’s call. To follow the call does not mean happiness, but once it has been heard, there is no happiness for those who do not follow

Running from a call seems to be a common theme in the Bible. Even in secular literature, people run from the gods. In Virgil's The Aeneid, Aeneas hears a divine summons to be the founder of Rome. But building Rome is not what Aeneas wants to do. Aeneas does not want to leave his home to follow his calling; He is forced to give up his love and his attachment to the past. It means leaving old dreams and old loves. But there is a larger and better destiny to which he is called. So Jupiter says of him, "That man should sail." And he does. Sailing means embracing the pain of leaving behind what he thought was his comfort and fulfillment. It means trusting that somehow he is not just moving into the future. He is being led from a call that he neither made, wanted, nor even understood.

Have you ever felt like Jonah? Have you ever felt like the world beats you down and tells you that we can’t change the big picture, so just fall in line and make the best living that you can for yourself and your family? Ever feel like God is calling to a God-sized task, but it’s easier to run away? Ever felt like you’ve spent some time in the belly of a whale, out of touch with your calling, your sense of meaning and purpose. Ever feel like Jonah -- fighting God at every step, but finally accepting the call God has for you. Ever think that God wants you to sail to your destiny, but you would rather not go? Remember, God can work, sometimes quite spectacularly, through the most obstinate person who accepts God's call no matter how long and hard one fights it. We must let go of the life we have planned, to accept the one that is waiting for us.

When God asks you to do something outside of your comfort zone, how do you respond? In Mark’s Gospel, we heard another fish story about how Jesus called the first four disciples to fish for a harvest of humanity so the reign of God will increase. While it takes three chapters for Jonah to get to Nineveh, in a remarkable four verses these anglers leave their nets, their security, and their families to follow Jesus. I know that I would want at least 48 hours to think through me decision, to weigh the consequences, to think about the family business and the implications of the career move. But Mark tells us nothing of their inner deliberations. We don’t know whether the fishing was good or bad, if they were religious people or not, if they got along with their father or had a desire to travel. Mark simply says, “Immediately, they followed him.” Jesus presented them with a risk. He offered them a new identity, one that had nothing to do with their geographic or social location. Instead, it would be about movement -- a willingness to take a journey, to begin a pilgrimage. Jesus does not spend a lot of time analyzing the big picture. His program is not very detailed. He doesn’t write a two-volume manifesto about how the world works and he probably would not have bee and very good pundit on “News Hour with Jim Lehrer” or “The O’Reilly Factor.” The call is an urgent, uncompromising invitation to break with business as usual. Jesus says, “God is near. God’s power is at work. Hear this good news and let’s go fishing.”

I read a story once about Alexander the Great. A few centuries before Christ, Alexander the Great conquered almost the entire known world with his military strength, cleverness, and diplomacy. One day Alexander and a small company of soldiers approached a strongly defended, walled city. Alexander, standing outside the walls, raised his voice, demanding to see the king. The king, approaching the battlements above the invading army, agreed to hear Alexander’s demands. “Surrender to me immediately,” commanded Alexander. The king laughed. “Why should I surrender to you?” he called down. “We have you far outnumbered. You are no threat to us!” Alexander was ready to answer the challenge. “Allow me to demonstrate why you should surrender,” he replied. Alexander ordered his men to line up single file and start marching. He marched them straight toward a sheer cliff that dropped hundreds of feet to rocks below. The king and his soldiers watched in shocked disbelief as, one by one, Alexander’s soldiers marched without hesitation right off the cliff to their deaths. After ten soldiers had died, Alexander ordered the rest of his men to stop and to return to his side. The king and his soldiers surrendered on the spot to Alexander the Great.

I really don’t like this story! It makes me very uncomfortable. When I hear it, I wonder if God really wants that kind of blind obedience from me. I doubt my own ability to follow when it means sacrificing that much. It’s just too much. If asked to make a choice between suffering for God or following my own comfortable life plan, I will usually choose comfort. God’s expectations are just too high. For God, obedience is not even an option. It is a demand – and I am not always willing to listen. Jesus did not just ask the first disciples to give something up–like not eating chocolate during Lent. When Jesus calls, their own hopes, plans, and ambitions get put on hold. He asks these fishermen to put aside their career, their families, and their way of life for a new fishing expedition. I think he asks the same of us. In many congregations today, we can’t imagine that such a challenge might be put to us. So we ramble on, meander for weeks, then years, never hearing the central claim and call of Christ to us today.

I went through the Bible and looked up many of the verses that ask me to obey. Here’s what I found out. The words in Hebrew and Greek that are most often translated as “obey” are mentioned about 500 times. In Hebrew, the word obey actually refers to a corral or pen made of thorns. When the ancient Hebrew shepherds were out at night with their flocks, they would build a corral of thorn bushes to keep the wolves and other night creatures away. The corral was seen as a guardian to care for the sheep.

Following our call is not just about blindly obeying the impulses of a punishing God. It’s not just about suffering at the hands of a divine masochist. It’s about guarding, protecting and cherishing the expectations of a God who guards, protects and cherishes you.

But following God requires some major adjustments. God is interested in developing the heart of a disciple in us. We can listen now. We can run away. In the end, God will never let us go too far without bringing us back. “We let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” If following God easy? No. Does answering the call mean we will have all blessing and no pain? No. Does God want to use you to accomplish a god-sized task? Does God want to use our congregation to accomplish a task with God-sized dimensions? I have no doubt. When we listen, when we follow, God will do something so amazing through us, that everyone else will know that God is at work.

Sources:
http://bloomingcactus.typepad.com/bloomingcactus/2006/01/jonah_3_mark_11.html
http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/currenttrendscolumns/leadershipweekly/cln80303b.html?start=2

Sermon for Sunday, January 18, 2009

How Do You Know Me?
Psalm 139; John 1:43-51

In times like these, when unemployment is high and many people are financially stretched, many people think about matters of job and career. Finding a job, “making ends meet”, these things seem receive more attention than usual in times of economic downturn. Even when the economy is less troubled, we tend to be preoccupied with matters of career and job. A job, we think, involves paid employment -- or maybe any significant responsibility we take on. A career, we reason, is what happens as a person undertakes a series of jobs over time. Career carries with it a sense of increasing experience, and often-greater responsibility and reward.

This morning we reflect on a third term – a third reality, really. That third term is “calling”. A job might describe paid employment. A career might be described as a series of jobs or experiences in one job that lead to greater responsibility and greater reward. A calling can be a job, and it can be a career. But it is also more than a job and more than a career. The sociologist Robert Bellah sees it this way: A calling links what we do to a larger community where we contribute to the common good. A calling links the person to the world. In his book Economics And The Theology Of Work he writes: “The notion of calling is an effort to make real the reign of God in the realm of work.” When we have a calling, we realize “that we all need each other, and that our real reward is our sense of contribution to the common good.” We can have a job. We can even have a career. When we can make the reign of God real in the realm of work – then we have a calling.

Presbyterian minister and author Frederick Buechner makes a similar point. He writes, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” A calling is found in the intersection between your need for fulfillment and the world’s need for what you have to offer -- where the gifts God gives you and the world’s need for those gifts meet -- where what you can do and what God and the world need you to do meet. That’s more than a job. That’s more than a career. That’s a calling. A job is temporary. A career won’t last all your life. Our question for today is this; How can we hear our calling? How can each of us find that place where deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet?

You’re all familiar with the Verizon Wireless television commercials where the Verizon man walks around speaking into his cell phone, asking, “Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?” When it comes to hearing our calling, I think God does the same thing. God calls us and asks, “Can you hear me now?” The problem is never with God being silent. The problem is with our being able to receive God’s call.

Think about Nathanael in our Gospel passage for today. One day Philip shows up, waving his arms and exclaiming that he’s just met the one long promised in the law and the prophets. Nathanael’s answer is a sneer. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” But his own encounter with Jesus redirects Nathanael. He moves from a place of skepticism to a place where he is willing to getup, leave behind life as he knows it, and follow Jesus. Nathanael becomes a disciple. Jesus invites him to follow, and that is what he does. It is not easy, but Nathanael recognizes his calling. The purpose of his life comes to light.

I love Nathanael’s astonishment. When Jesus flatters him, Nathanael says, “How do you know me?” Today’s texts remind us that God really knows us – even better than we know ourselves. The Psalmist expresses it this way, "…it was you, [God] who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Our calling comes from God’s special and intimate knowledge of who we are.

God knit you. God knows every stitch of your being. My daughter Zoe recently challenged me to a knit-off. She has taken up knitting. She has made some nice pieces. When she knits meticulously, taking her time with each individual stitch, adjusting the tension and counting the loops. One night I was poking fun at how slow and exacting she was. So she challenged me to a knit off. I don’t know how to knit. So I asked my sister-in-law to give me a five-minute lesson. My practice piece looked like a bushy purple caterpillar with 25 little looped legs. On the day of the knit-off, Zoe measured two pieces of yarn, about 25 feet in length. She put them on the knitting sticks (I later found out they are called needles), had us sit back to back on the floor, and knit until the yarn was gone. Zoe quickly finished – an evenly stitched patch of yarn that could easily turn into a hat or scarf. She worked with ease. My finished project looked like a bushy pink caterpillar with 25 little looped legs. My tense arms and hunched shoulders showed in my work. Zoe glided through. She knew what she was doing (I must say, I came in a close second at the knit off). I think of how God knows us and knits us, creating us with painstaking care and gracious ease. We are indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. Our calling and our discipleship come from God’s knowledge of who we are and what God made each of us to be.

When I read Nathanael’s story, I’m encouraged. There’s hope for the rest of us. Jesus knows Nathanael. He calls this intolerant, sarcastic man to be a disciple. God knows the real Nathanael. And if he gets to be a disciple, then there’s hope that the rest of us can discover that place where “our deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” There’s hope that we can discover the intersection between our need for fulfillment and the world’s need for what we have to offer -- where the gifts God gives us and the world’s need for those gifts meet -- where what we can do and what God and the world need us to do meet.

This weekend I am especially conscious of Dr. Martin Luther King’s special calling, which he described as being a “drum major for the cause of justice.” There are many highlights in Dr. King’s life, such as the march on Selma, the march on Washington, and the passage of the voting rights act. But in his later life he was facing more defeats than victories. Some thought that his opposition to the war in Vietnam would jeopardize government support for programs to end poverty. He struggled to mediate between more radical figures like Stokely Carmichael and more conservative ones like Roy Wilkins. His call for a march to end poverty was not getting much response. He was hounded by the F.B.I. In the weeks and months before his death, he was depressed and discouraged. Yet, he still heard God’s call urging him to be a drum major for justice. In his last speech on the eve of his assassination, he put aside his own doubts and fatigue, cast off the threats against his own life, and rallied the crowd for the cause he had taken up so many years before -- a cause that would see the end of segregation in the South, secure the vote for black citizens, and goad the country as a whole, both North and South, to overcome its prejudices and its past.

He said. “I don’t know what will happen now . . .We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop and I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will, and He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight, that we as a people will get to the Promised Land. So I’m happy tonight; I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

In April of 1963, Martin Luther King, Jr. was arrested and placed in jail in Birmingham, Alabama for his non-violent resistance to segregation. After King’s incarceration eight leading Christian and Jewish religious leaders in that city, released a statement criticizing King’s work and ideas, saying that his activities to end segregation in the South were, “unwise and untimely.” In response to that statement, King wrote these eight men, what has come to be known as his Letter from Birmingham Jail. Listen to some sound bytes of what King wrote: “I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. . . injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.. . Just as the prophets carried ‘thus saith the Lord’ far beyond their villages, and just like the apostle Paul carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco-Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom. . . we must see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.” 1

Martin Luther King was a black man in a white culture that was unable to hear God’s call because of it’s immoral behavior of racism - an immorality that had even corrupted the religious leadership. But King struggled to rise above that deadening culture where people did only what was right in their own eyes. Martin Luther King chose not give in. He chose not to serve the immoral culture and to become separated from God in the process. King chose to follow God’s ways of justice, freedom and love. He chose to move out of the dead zone of racial hatred where God’s call could not be heard, to the life giving zone of justice and love. And because of this, when God said, “Martin, can you hear me now?” King responded to the call.

We can profit from the stories of Nathanael and MLK. We can take courage from how they responded to God’s voice speaking to each of them. Today, we must hear and heed our own call.

Listen because God speaks to us. It might be through a still, small voice. You may hear it in the turmoil of daily events. It’s there if you listen. To hear it is always a moment of grace. You have gifts that God has given you. God calls on you to use them. There are needs in this Church where God may be inviting you to use your gifts and abilities to make a difference. At the very least, God calls us to evaluate our commitment to justice, freedom and love.

I invite you to consider how God might be calling you to respond to the needs in the world around you. There are needs in the community where God may be calling you to use your gifts and abilities to make a difference. The poverty level is high – organizations like the The Council of Churches of Greater Bridgeport, the Bridgeport Rescue Mission, St. Luke’s and Operation Hope, need volunteers and donations. Or you can just look around and see those in need around you. Listen for God’s call. There are needs in the world where God may be calling on you to use your gifts and abilities to make a difference. “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” There is a place like that for you. God knows you. God has a calling for you whether you realize it or not. Listen. And when you hear God’s call, respond.

Sources
http://revbillsermons.blogspot.com/2006/01/john-143-51.html
http://www.stjohntb.org/sermons/01_15_06.html
http://www.allsaintsbrookline.org/sermons/2006/sermons/DK060115.html

Funeral Sermon for Wells Martin

January 17, 2009

We all know that Wells loved children. He actually treated them like human beings. He would get on their level, and greet them – asking them questions and looking interested in their responses.
That’s not surprising. Children have a positive affect on lots of people. Children are fun to be around, most of the time anyway. Children have, it seems, limitless energy and enthusiasm. They are always amazed at the news things they’ve learned, their joy of life seems a treasure at times. Children see things that adults don’t. They haven’t been conditioned to recognize and interpret reality the way we adults have. A while back someone gave me a bit of advice and told me not to ask children questions during the children’s time at church. They tend to blurt out answers you weren’t expecting. Children see and experience life differently than we adults can imagine, or remember anyways.

One persistent question that children like to ask is; what is heaven like? They hear about heaven in church, or from parents or grandparents if they don’t attend church, and they want to know. The posture children take is so unlike that of adults, who approach the whole subject with a desire for a scientific explanation or with skepticism. But children don’t need these categories. They see the whole subject of death and heaven and God with eyes that still recognize the marvel and wonder of it all.

Now a lot of people, in times of trial and sorrow like these, turn to God and the bible in a quest for meaning and comfort. And part of the search is a quest for concrete answers, some way to understand the whole issue of death and dying and a way to fit it into the way the rest of the world is experienced. Unfortunately no one has ever come back to tell us what it’s like. And when we turn to religion, we find that the bible is strangely quiet with concrete particulars of what happens after we pass from this existence.

There are hints and allusions however, and we’ve heard one in this afternoon’s gospel reading. Jesus tells his disciples, “In my father’s house are many rooms . . . and I go and prepare a place for you.” Imagine what this statement would have meant to a peasant who lived in the heat and the dust of 1st century Palestine. Imagine a person who sweats and labors in someone else’s field 12 hours a day, who worries if he’ll have enough food, because if he doesn’t, one of his children will starve to death. To this person, who live in a one room shack, what Jesus says is incredible. The whole idea of living in a mansion, in a palace, and having a room to yourself is unbelievable. The concept of staying in the Lord’s house would be such a sign of overflowing generosity and abundance. Imagine, a room to yourself in the Lord’s palace!

Jesus helps us understand a little bit more about what heaven is like, not in a literal sense, but rather of the incredible, overflowing richness of what is promised by God -- an overflowing abundance that is based solely on God’s love for you.

It’s because of this love, this seemingly infinite, unending, unimaginable love, the love God has for each and every part of his creation, that we can find some measure of comfort in this most difficult time. The comfort we are given, the promise that can sustain us, the knowledge that can form the basis of meaning in this chaotic time of grief and fog, can be found in the immeasurable love God has for each and every one of us.

God’s love is an unconditional love, a love that triumphs over all pain and sadness and grief and despair. And the promise is fulfilled in the assurance that God has defeated the powers of death and chaos. The separation we endure with the passing of loved ones is only temporary. We are assured, that in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s promise will ultimately be fulfilled.
So we can step back, in this time of confusion and grief, and when the dust settles we can reflect that Wells is in God’s loving hands, we can find peace in the certainty of the promise that Frank is in God’s loving care. Thanks be to God.