Faith Moves: Jonah and the Famished Fish
Jonah 1:1-17
There was this young minister who was serving his first church in a rural area. Let’s call him “Bill.” One day, while out visiting, he saw a major winter snow storm coming toward him and within minutes Bill was in a whiteout condition. Wondering what to do, the words of his father came back to him: If you get caught in a storm, just follow a snow plow and the road will always be clear before you. Sure enough, a plow came along and Bill followed it. He turning when the plow turned. He stopped when the plow stopped. After a while the plow parked and the driver got out and walked back to the car that had been on his tail. “Are you following me,” he asked? The young preacher admitted that he was following. Bill said, “My Daddy always said: If you get caught in a storm, just follow a snow plow and the road will always be clear before you. “Okay,” said the driver. “Just to let you know that I’ve finished the Mall parking lot and now I’m heading over to Wal-mart!”
Sometimes we need to be careful who we follow!
Clarence Jordan was a prophet for racial integration in the South. In 1942, after receiving his doctorate at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, he returned to his native Georgia and established Koinonia Farm. Koinonia Farm was an experiment in Christian interracial communal living. Jordan envisioned an interracial community where blacks and whites could live and work together in a spirit of partnership. You can imagine how scandalous this was in Georgia in the 40’s. Throughout the 1950s and early 60s, Koinonia Farm remained a witness to nonviolence and racial equality, as its members withstood firebombs, bullets, KKK rallies, death threats, property damage, excommunication from churches, and economic boycotts. On one occasion, after preaching to a Southern congregation on the spirit of equality found in the New Testament, an elderly woman stopped Jordan. She cried, “I want you to know that my, grandfather fought in the Civil War, and I’ll never believe a word you say.” Jordan replied, “Ma’am, your choice seems quite clear. It is whether you will follow your granddaddy or Jesus Christ.”
I want us to answer a simple question this morning. When God asks you to do something outside of your comfort zone, who do you follow? Do you stick to what you think you know, or do you follow Jesus? Are you led exclusively by tradition ‑ by what you’ve always been told is the right way ‑ or do you follow Jesus? Do you only listen to the voices of your family and friends, or the voices of your past, or do you follow Jesus? I already know my own answer. I think of all the people who have become MY enemies because of what they believe, or say, or do. I think of the people I criticize, dismiss, and want to have no contact with. I think of those who have disappointed me. I think of all the people I’ve decided are unlovable, and I want nothing to do with them. Sometimes I hear the voice of Jesus telling me to go beyond my preconceptions ‑ to love and serve the people I’ve rejected, and I’m presented with a choice: obey Jesus, or stubbornly cling to my prejudice. Quite often, I am adamant in my intolerance. How about you? Who do you follow?
Why is it that we find it so hard to go beyond ourselves and do the challenging things God asks us to do? I think it has to do with a failure of faith. We fail to trust that God is sovereign and has a broader vision of what life and salvation really mean. It is hard to have faith when God’s plans go against our expectations of how we think God is supposed to act. The prophet Jonah struggled with the same problems. In today’s reading, Jonah God calls Jonah to extend God’s good news to the gentile city of Ninevah -- the capital city of the Assyrian empire. Jonah disagrees with God’s plan from the very beginning. Even though God says he loves Ninevah, Jonah wants nothing to do with this city. He tries so hard to resist what God wants, even while he clearly understands that God is open‑hearted and merciful to the enemies of Israel.
Last week I said that when faced with any situation there are two ways of handling it: Our way or God’s way. Jonah decides that God’s way is no good. God chose Jonah for this specific assignment, and Jonah thinks he has a choice to say no. Verse 1 begins by telling us that the word of the Lord came to Jonah. God’s voice must have stirred Jonah with a sense of awe and a profound experience of God’s presence and power. It is a life‑changing event to hear the word of the Lord. Yet, in the next sentence, before Jonah can even enjoy his encounter with God, shock waves begin exploding in his mind. His heart sinks when he hears God say, “Go to Ninevah.” I can just imagine Jonah’s inner protests. “God, you can’t really, mean Ninevah, the capitol city of Israel’s avowed enemy! They are scum. 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 Ninevah, Jonah turns the opposite direction, trekking to the seaport city of Joppa on the Mediterranean. From there he heads toward Tarshish, on the Atlantic coast of Spain. Just to get to Tarshish by ship meant a year and a half journey to the straits of Gibraltar. Jonah figures he’s escaped the Lord and has all the time in the world. What Jonah is really doing is abandoning his obligation to minister to the people of Ninevah. It’s an act of sinful rebellion. Jonah is a faithful prophet as long as God wants what Jonah wants. But when God’s command goes against what Jonah wants, Jonah decides he knows a better way. He is finally put out of commission. In the midst of a turbulent storm, the sailors are scared out of their wits. The boat is about to be pulled underwater because of the storm. The men toss the faithless Jonah overboard. Instantly, the sound and the fury of the storm, and the yelling and crying, and praying, and screaming cease. The sea is peaceful. The sailors shudder with wonder and praise God. But not the reluctant prophet. Not yet, at least. Jonah’s going to get some time to find new perspective in the belly of a great fish.
Let me ask you again, who do you follow? We should show some sympathy for Jonah before we get carried away with judgment. We shouldn’t condemn him without facing our own failure of faith. At one time or another we will all be faced with a command from God that’s difficult to hear, an instruction from God that sends us into a panic, an assignment that will cause us to run in the opposite direction, a calling that will prompt us to say, “Anything but that, Lord!” It is tragic for each one of us when we refuse to obey God’s clear command, because the result is that it puts us out of commission spiritually. Disobedience robs us of our credibility. Others see us and wonder why the “Christian” can’t get it together enough to carry out what he or she talks about. Disobedience puts us out of commission because if we call ourselves Christians, but we don’t have the faith to be totally obedient to God, our words and actions are hollow to a lost world that sees the church as a bunch of self‑absorbed hypocrites who are out of touch with the world and its problems. When we call ourselves Christians, but show lack of faith in God by doing things our own way, then the world has every right to question our credibility. Who do you follow? If you are afraid to follow God, then those around you, those who are looking at your words and your life for some glimmer of hope, will have no reason to put their hope in the Lord.
I think it’s interesting how God responds to disobedience. Let’s turn again to Jonah’s story. God responds with action. God doesn’t ignore Jonah’s rebellion. He doesn’t just sit by and allow Jonah to drift in his sins. Jonah is God’s chosen agent for a specific purpose, like it or not, and the Lord is prepared to offer correction. However, God also offers affection. I love verse 17: God arranged for a great fish to swallow Jonah. The Lord doesn’t allow Jonah to drown in the sea as a punishment. God keeps Jonah alive. He pursues and protects Jonah in his time of need.
Eating lunch at a small cafe, Mark Reed of Camarillo, California saw a sparrow hop through the open door and peck at the crumbs near his table. When the crumbs were gone, the sparrow hopped to the window ledge, spread its wings, and took flight, It was a brief flight. The sparrow crashed against the windowpane and fell to the floor. The bird quickly recovered and tried again. It crashed in to the window. So, it tried again and crashed in to the window. Mark got up and attempted to shoo the sparrow out the door, but the closer he got, the harder it threw itself against the pane. He nudged it with his hand. That sent the sparrow fluttering along the ledge, hammering its beak against the glass. Finally, Mark reached out and gently caught the bird, folding his fingers around its wings and body. It weighed almost nothing. He thought of how powerless and vulnerable the sparrow must have felt. At the door he released it and the sparrow sailed away. The sparrow only found freedom when it was lead to flight by Mark’s hands.
God’s response to our disobedience is twofold. Yes, there is discipline. But God is also compassionate. God understands our fear and our frailty. He sees our inability to go beyond our own plan. He knows how hard it is for us to recognize the reality of his love. And in those times he not only corrects, but God takes us in his hands, as if we are little birds, and God protects us from ourselves. God guides us with caring hands to the truth of what wonderful things can happen when we are obedient to God’s voice. God takes opportunities to confront us, to redirect us, to let us know that his ways are best, and to fill us with faith enough to trust his plans.
So, let me ask you again, who do you follow? Let me tell you about a man who did just the opposite of human nature. On January 3, 1865, King Kamehameha V of Hawaii issued a decree that obliged all lepers to make themselves known so that the incurable patients could be sent to a leprosarium on the island of Molokai. Despite their protests, victims of Hansen’s Disease were tracked own like game animals and captured and sent to the island. Contrary to newspaper reports there was nothing prepared for their reception. There were no beds or doctors in the hospital, and not enough huts for the people to live in. Those who died got neither a coffin nor a proper burial, and no one attempted to alleviate their suffering. The people gave up all sense of dignity and any desire for cleanliness or order. They had been treated like mangy animals, and being no longer respected as human beings, they proceeded to make beasts of themselves. By 1873, the public began to find out what was going on. One paper wrote, “Those whom the lepers most need are a priest and a doctor who would sacrifice themselves for the lepers by imprisoning themselves with them.” Until that time, the Catholic Bishop had set up a rotation of priests, to visit the island once a year. And while he knew that the lepers needed more pastoral care, he did not want to sentence a priest to go to the island as a full-time resident with the risk of catching the contagious disease. One priest volunteered to go. His name was Father Damien. He told the Bishop, “I want to go there! I know many of these unfortunate souls, and I ask only to share their lot and their prison. The Bishop gladly accepted the young priest’s offer.
Despite his quirks, Damien gave the lepers new a new church, an improved hospital, better living conditions, and a sense of dignity. He shared the love of God with these men and women. He went to the place where everyone else feared to venture, and he turned it around by obeying Christ. In 1889, 16 years after his arrival at Molokai, Father Damien died of leprosy. But thousands of men and women found healing through his sacrificial touch.
Jonah chapter one demonstrates the consequences when one fails to trust in God. Father Damien is an example of one who went to the Ninevah of his time, and obediently served the Lord. I encourage you to think of the Ninevah’s in your life, and to know that God may be calling you there. It may be a place. It may be a person or a relationship. God calls us, in faith, to trust him when as we go out as agents of reconciliation. So, go to Ninevah, following the Lord who wants all his people to know his mercy and love.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Sermon for July 10, 2005
I was on vacation on July 3rd. This week's post is a bit late, but here it is . . .
Faith Moves: Fools for Christ
Joshua 6:1-20; 1 Corinthians 1:18‑25
There was this guy at a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half of an hour.
Then, this big trouble‑making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and just drinks it all down. The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man cry."
"No, it's not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I go late to my office. My boss, outrageous, fires me. When I leave the building, to my car, I found out it was stolen. The police said that they can do nothing. I get a cab to return home, and when I leave it, I remember I left my wallet and credit cards there. The cab driver just drives away."
"I go home, and when I get there, I find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave home, and come to this bar. And just when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison."
Sometimes you have to have a sense of humor when you face tough situations. When I read the story of Joshua and the Israelite’s conquest of Jericho, I wonder what was going through Joshua's head. We don't have any indication in the text that Joshua thought the Lord's instructions were strange. But if I were in his shoes, I would have found the whole situation a bit unnerving, maybe even humorous. The Lord presented a strange battle strategy ‑ a plan which must have seemed foolish to a 70‑year old leader like Joshua. I'd like to explore what we can learn from Joshua as we continue our series on faith moves. Today, we are going to think about how we respond when God asks us to act in foolish ways.
There is not a lot of archaeological evidence from the Jericho of Joshua's day. The city of ancient times is represented today by an imposing mound that is 70 feet high and 10 acres in area. There is no evidence of a mass destruction of the city in the 13th century B.C. because it's remains have been completely eroded from the summit of the mound over the centuries. Jericho probably began as a small settlement in 8000 B.C. It was known as the oldest walled city in the world, and it grew into an impressive city with a 25-foot wall and extraordinary buildings on its slopes. Joshua's spies discovered that the key to taking the promised land began with occupying this strategic city. It was a huge obstacle that had to be removed from their path.
Let's stop for a moment and think about the unmovable obstacles that confront us in our own lives. As you stand on the banks of life and look at what lies ahead, what barriers do you see? What are the Jerichos in your life? What keeps you from enjoying the covenant blessings that God has promised you? Scripture is clear that sin and temptation are universal problems that stand in the way of our enjoyment of God. Sin is an obstacle that can never be removed by our own efforts or good deeds. No matter how hard we try, sin separates us from God.
There are other obstacles as well. Some face the obstacle of grief. Perhaps you can't imagine going into the future without a lost loved one. It is difficult to believe God's promises when life just seems barren and hopeless.
Some face the barrier of disappointment. Maybe you can't go on because a loved one, or a friend, or even God has let you down. You have lost faith because it seems that a trusted person has betrayed you, and so you face the future with cynicism.
Some face the obstruction of broken relationships. Maybe you feel rejected, or isolated, or unloved, and the road ahead looks lonely and bleak.
Maybe you’re jus tired and you don’t have the energy to face the obstacles of the next day.
At one time or another we all face obstacles that seem to lock our path to happiness. The question is: how can we move past the Jerichos of our lives, and live in the promises of God?
Let’s get back to Joshua and the Israelites for a moment. Try to picture them faced with the conquest of a menacing city. Its walls are high. Its gates are locked tightly. It is impenetrable. And what does God tell his people to do? God says, “Josh, I want you to take your soldiers and your priests and march around the city once a day for six days. Then on the seventh day I want you to march around the city seven times with the priests blowing their trumpets. And on your last lap around the city, the trumpets will make a loud blast. Have all the people shout at the top of their lungs, and the walls of the city will collapse.” That’s an unusual battle strategy, isn't it? In every situation, there are two ways of facing the challenges of life; our way or God's way. In this case, God's way went against established human logic. It's as if the Lord said, "Joshua, I'm not going to allow you to rely on human wisdom and tricky military strategies. This is my battle, and I will be the one who gives you the victory." Israel's job was to carry out God's crazy orders .
God's plan of attacking the obstacles in our lives can seem unusual to us, too. God says to us, “I will defeat the roadblocks in your life if you will let me. But, I want you to do it my way.” It's exactly the kind of talk that sounds so foolish to us. We don't like to hear that we can't do it on our own. We like the idea of being rugged individualists and self‑made people.
A man brought his boss home for dinner. The boss was blustery, arrogant, and domineering. The little boy in the family stared at his dad's boss for most of the evening, but didn't say anything. Finally, the boss asked him, "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" The little boy said, "My daddy says you are a self‑made man." The boss beamed and proudly admitted that indeed he was a self‑made man. The little boy asked, “Well, if you're a self-made man, why did you make yourself like that?"
The problem with self‑made people is the illusion of self‑sufficiency. They allow no room for God to do something miraculous in their lives. As long as we retain complete control, the barriers in our lives may not be moved. We may pick away at them, and even find some happiness, but it’s not the same as letting God have total control. God's plans are not always the same as our plans. Sometimes God’s plans are hard to believe, often because they seem so utterly foolish.
Just stop and think about God's plan of salvation. God knows that our biggest obstacle in life is sin, which separates us from his presence. We regularly praise God for sending Jesus to die on a cross, rise from the dead and take away our sin. But it's really foolish when you think about it. We gather each week to praise and remember some guy, battered and bloody, who died gasping from breath while nailed to a cross for crimes against the state and his own religion. His closest friends abandoned him in his time of need. They forgot all about him and fled to save their own hides. But still we remember him. And not only that, we claim that his dead guy came back to life and then a few days later got beamed up to heaven. You see how ridiculous this message can sound? But God's plan is for us to find hope in that story, so that we might receive new life in Christ.
And how about the unusual ways God tells us to approach our Jerichos? Instead of going it alone, God calls us to be baptized so that we may belong to a covenant family. Instead of devising our own schemes, God tells us to submit our problems to him in prayer, and he will answer. Jesus encourages us to find peace through loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us. Even more, God calls us to live lifestyles of holiness and modesty, honesty, faithfulness, and trust. It goes against everything the world stands for. Behavior like this makes us look like dimwits or outcasts ‑ fools for Christ. Our text from 1 Corinthians reminds us that God chooses what is foolish to shame those who think they are wise. God chooses the avenue of weakness to shame those who think they are strong on their own. God chooses ways that seem lowly so that we can't boast of anything except Jesus Christ and the redemption we can experience through him. God uses his unusual methods to destroy the obstacles to his presence, change lives, to give his people hope, to heal our wounds and lift our burdens.
How do you respond to the seemingly foolish requests of God? Joshua gives us one model. To Joshua's credit, he accepted God's unusual plans without argument. Without a second thought, he put God's orders into action. Why would he do this? The only answer I can come up with is because of faith. In fact, Hebrews 11:30 confirms that by faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the people had marched around them for seven days. Faith is having complete confidence or trust that God will do what he promises, even if God's methods don't make sense. And because of faith, Joshua made sure that the strategy of God was followed to the letter.
There has never been a time when God has expected anything less than full obedience. Like Joshua, our obedience calls for faith ‑ an earnest trust that God will help us face the obstacles in our lives. And even more, as we face them obediently, we will see God clear the path for us. So let me ask you, how's jour faith? Are you tired of facing the Jerichos of your life alone? God is ready to take the walls of sin and temptation, or grief, or loneliness, or broken relationships, and clear a path through them so that you may have hope for the future.
What stands in the way to experiencing all that God has for you? I encourage you to continually hand them over to God, and be open to his unusual plans to make a path through them, even if they seem foolish.
Faith Moves: Fools for Christ
Joshua 6:1-20; 1 Corinthians 1:18‑25
There was this guy at a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half of an hour.
Then, this big trouble‑making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and just drinks it all down. The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man cry."
"No, it's not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I go late to my office. My boss, outrageous, fires me. When I leave the building, to my car, I found out it was stolen. The police said that they can do nothing. I get a cab to return home, and when I leave it, I remember I left my wallet and credit cards there. The cab driver just drives away."
"I go home, and when I get there, I find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave home, and come to this bar. And just when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison."
Sometimes you have to have a sense of humor when you face tough situations. When I read the story of Joshua and the Israelite’s conquest of Jericho, I wonder what was going through Joshua's head. We don't have any indication in the text that Joshua thought the Lord's instructions were strange. But if I were in his shoes, I would have found the whole situation a bit unnerving, maybe even humorous. The Lord presented a strange battle strategy ‑ a plan which must have seemed foolish to a 70‑year old leader like Joshua. I'd like to explore what we can learn from Joshua as we continue our series on faith moves. Today, we are going to think about how we respond when God asks us to act in foolish ways.
There is not a lot of archaeological evidence from the Jericho of Joshua's day. The city of ancient times is represented today by an imposing mound that is 70 feet high and 10 acres in area. There is no evidence of a mass destruction of the city in the 13th century B.C. because it's remains have been completely eroded from the summit of the mound over the centuries. Jericho probably began as a small settlement in 8000 B.C. It was known as the oldest walled city in the world, and it grew into an impressive city with a 25-foot wall and extraordinary buildings on its slopes. Joshua's spies discovered that the key to taking the promised land began with occupying this strategic city. It was a huge obstacle that had to be removed from their path.
Let's stop for a moment and think about the unmovable obstacles that confront us in our own lives. As you stand on the banks of life and look at what lies ahead, what barriers do you see? What are the Jerichos in your life? What keeps you from enjoying the covenant blessings that God has promised you? Scripture is clear that sin and temptation are universal problems that stand in the way of our enjoyment of God. Sin is an obstacle that can never be removed by our own efforts or good deeds. No matter how hard we try, sin separates us from God.
There are other obstacles as well. Some face the obstacle of grief. Perhaps you can't imagine going into the future without a lost loved one. It is difficult to believe God's promises when life just seems barren and hopeless.
Some face the barrier of disappointment. Maybe you can't go on because a loved one, or a friend, or even God has let you down. You have lost faith because it seems that a trusted person has betrayed you, and so you face the future with cynicism.
Some face the obstruction of broken relationships. Maybe you feel rejected, or isolated, or unloved, and the road ahead looks lonely and bleak.
Maybe you’re jus tired and you don’t have the energy to face the obstacles of the next day.
At one time or another we all face obstacles that seem to lock our path to happiness. The question is: how can we move past the Jerichos of our lives, and live in the promises of God?
Let’s get back to Joshua and the Israelites for a moment. Try to picture them faced with the conquest of a menacing city. Its walls are high. Its gates are locked tightly. It is impenetrable. And what does God tell his people to do? God says, “Josh, I want you to take your soldiers and your priests and march around the city once a day for six days. Then on the seventh day I want you to march around the city seven times with the priests blowing their trumpets. And on your last lap around the city, the trumpets will make a loud blast. Have all the people shout at the top of their lungs, and the walls of the city will collapse.” That’s an unusual battle strategy, isn't it? In every situation, there are two ways of facing the challenges of life; our way or God's way. In this case, God's way went against established human logic. It's as if the Lord said, "Joshua, I'm not going to allow you to rely on human wisdom and tricky military strategies. This is my battle, and I will be the one who gives you the victory." Israel's job was to carry out God's crazy orders .
God's plan of attacking the obstacles in our lives can seem unusual to us, too. God says to us, “I will defeat the roadblocks in your life if you will let me. But, I want you to do it my way.” It's exactly the kind of talk that sounds so foolish to us. We don't like to hear that we can't do it on our own. We like the idea of being rugged individualists and self‑made people.
A man brought his boss home for dinner. The boss was blustery, arrogant, and domineering. The little boy in the family stared at his dad's boss for most of the evening, but didn't say anything. Finally, the boss asked him, "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" The little boy said, "My daddy says you are a self‑made man." The boss beamed and proudly admitted that indeed he was a self‑made man. The little boy asked, “Well, if you're a self-made man, why did you make yourself like that?"
The problem with self‑made people is the illusion of self‑sufficiency. They allow no room for God to do something miraculous in their lives. As long as we retain complete control, the barriers in our lives may not be moved. We may pick away at them, and even find some happiness, but it’s not the same as letting God have total control. God's plans are not always the same as our plans. Sometimes God’s plans are hard to believe, often because they seem so utterly foolish.
Just stop and think about God's plan of salvation. God knows that our biggest obstacle in life is sin, which separates us from his presence. We regularly praise God for sending Jesus to die on a cross, rise from the dead and take away our sin. But it's really foolish when you think about it. We gather each week to praise and remember some guy, battered and bloody, who died gasping from breath while nailed to a cross for crimes against the state and his own religion. His closest friends abandoned him in his time of need. They forgot all about him and fled to save their own hides. But still we remember him. And not only that, we claim that his dead guy came back to life and then a few days later got beamed up to heaven. You see how ridiculous this message can sound? But God's plan is for us to find hope in that story, so that we might receive new life in Christ.
And how about the unusual ways God tells us to approach our Jerichos? Instead of going it alone, God calls us to be baptized so that we may belong to a covenant family. Instead of devising our own schemes, God tells us to submit our problems to him in prayer, and he will answer. Jesus encourages us to find peace through loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us. Even more, God calls us to live lifestyles of holiness and modesty, honesty, faithfulness, and trust. It goes against everything the world stands for. Behavior like this makes us look like dimwits or outcasts ‑ fools for Christ. Our text from 1 Corinthians reminds us that God chooses what is foolish to shame those who think they are wise. God chooses the avenue of weakness to shame those who think they are strong on their own. God chooses ways that seem lowly so that we can't boast of anything except Jesus Christ and the redemption we can experience through him. God uses his unusual methods to destroy the obstacles to his presence, change lives, to give his people hope, to heal our wounds and lift our burdens.
How do you respond to the seemingly foolish requests of God? Joshua gives us one model. To Joshua's credit, he accepted God's unusual plans without argument. Without a second thought, he put God's orders into action. Why would he do this? The only answer I can come up with is because of faith. In fact, Hebrews 11:30 confirms that by faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the people had marched around them for seven days. Faith is having complete confidence or trust that God will do what he promises, even if God's methods don't make sense. And because of faith, Joshua made sure that the strategy of God was followed to the letter.
There has never been a time when God has expected anything less than full obedience. Like Joshua, our obedience calls for faith ‑ an earnest trust that God will help us face the obstacles in our lives. And even more, as we face them obediently, we will see God clear the path for us. So let me ask you, how's jour faith? Are you tired of facing the Jerichos of your life alone? God is ready to take the walls of sin and temptation, or grief, or loneliness, or broken relationships, and clear a path through them so that you may have hope for the future.
What stands in the way to experiencing all that God has for you? I encourage you to continually hand them over to God, and be open to his unusual plans to make a path through them, even if they seem foolish.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Sermon for June 26, 2005
Faith Moves: Abram, the Ancestor of our Faith
Genesis 12:1‑8
Genesis 12:1‑8
In his book Waiting, author Ben Patterson tells the following story:God often calls people to do things that are the opposite of our natural leanings. God calls people out onto the precipice ‑ the edge of life ‑ the place where we must lean out, take a step, and move away from the places where we feel safe and secure. Over the summer, we are going to explore men and women of faith who stepped out in obedience to God's call. Today we begin a sermon series calling Faith Moves. We begin by looking at Abram, the ancestor of our faith.
In 1988, three friends and I climbed Mount Lyell, the highest peak in Yosemite National Park. Our base camp was less than 200 ft. from the peak. But our climb to the top and back was to take the better part of a day, due in large part to the difficulty of the glacier we had to cross to get to the top ... As the hours passed, the two more experienced mountaineers opened up a wide gap between me and my less‑experienced companion. Being competitive by nature, I began to look for shortcuts to beat them to the top. I thought I saw one to the right of an outcropping of rock ‑ so I went, deaf to the protests, of my companion.
Perhaps it was the effect of the high altitude, but the significance of the two experienced climbers not choosing this path did not register in my consciousness. It should have, for thirty minutes later I was trapped in a cul-de‑sac of rock atop Lyell Glacier looking down several hundred feet of a sheer slope of ice, pitched at about a 45 degree angle. I was only about ten feet from the safety of a rock, but one little slip and I wouldn’t stop sliding until I landed in the valley floor some 50 miles away! I was stuck and I was scared.
It took an hour for my experienced climbing friends to find me. Standing on the rock I wanted to reach, one of the men leaned out and used an ice ax to chip two little footsteps in the glacier. Then he gave me the following instructions: “You must step out from where you are and put your foot where the first foothold is. When your foot touches it, without a moment's hesitation, swing your other foot across and land it on the next step. When you do that, reach out and I will take your hand and pull you to safety."
That sounded real good to me. It was the next thing he said that made me more frightened than ever: “Listen carefully. As you step across, do not lean into the mountain! If anything, lean out a bit. Otherwise, your feet may fly out from under you and you will start sliding down.” I don't like precipices. When I’m on the edge of a cliff, my instincts are to lie down and hug the mountain, to become one with it, not to lean away from it! But that was what my good friend was telling me to do. For a moment, based solely on what I believed to be the good will and good sense of my friend, I decided to say no to what I felt, to stifle my impulse to cling to the security of the mountain, to lean out, step out, and traverse the ice to safety. It took less than two seconds to find out if my faith was well founded.
Chapters 1-11 of the book of Genesis are depressing. In spite of culture, learning, and human advancement, the early inhabitants of the earth, starting with Adam and Eve, discovered that sin closes the door to Paradise, and that no amount of human effort or learning could re‑open it. The happiness that human beings lost in rebellion against God, and the state of isolation that resulted, was not one that humans could change by their own efforts. The account of the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 is yet another unfolding account of humanity’s inability to reach God. The people of the earth decidedto build a tower that reached to the heavens to make name for themselves. But despite all the planning, preparing, and building that went into the tower, the result was confusion and rabble. Genesis 12 points us in the direction of a solution. Finally, God intervenes to do what his creation could not ‑ to bring people back into a right relationship with God. We are introduced to a man named Abram, and we begin to see God’s determination to save his people.
The details aren’t that clear, but God’s voice is unmistakable. God says, “Abram, get up and go, and I’ll lead you somewhere better. Get out of your safe and familiar surroundings, leave your loved ones, abandon your security and go where I will show you.” What would you do if you heard the instantly recognizable voice of God telling you to do that? I know myself well enough to know that I would make excuses: God, I can’t go right now. I have too much important work to do. God, My roots are here. I can’t live anywhere else. God, I'm too scared to go.”
Quite often, when God wants to use someone to accomplish something important, God stirs, and unsettles, and sometimes even uproots that person. What God is looking for in every generation is that man or woman who will listen, that teenager whom he can use; that individual who will follow God's directions to the letter ‑ that person who will strike out into the unknown in total, abandoned obedience to God. We, like Abram and Sarai, face daily challenges that may disturb our plans and cause us to rely on God.
Maybe God is calling you to do something risky with your faith, but you ask “What’s going to happen to my future? Will this lead to grief, disappointment, or disaster? Will somebody bring violence or harm to me or my family? Will I suffer some disaster?”
Maybe you are being called to reconcile a bad relationship. We face the demands of relationships every day; loving those who are hard to love, forgiving the offender; making up with those whom we’ve wronged, living up to our marriage vows, keeping our self‑promises, trying to be effective parents.
Maybe you are being called out of our comfort zone, to stretch yourself, to travel new pathways and gain new experiences.
For each of these conditions, I think we need to hear God's voice as never before. We need to hear that command of separation that says, “Come out and follow me.” It means putting our backs to the past and walking in a new direction of total devotion to God. Abram faced a mission that tested the limits of his faith up to that point. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew that his greatest blessing was to live in obedience to the call of God.
God also gave Abram and Sarai a promise. God promised to make them into a great nation, to bless them, and to make them a blessing to all the nations on earth. Before he left, Abram knew the consequences. His obedience would lead to great blessing.
There are always consequences to our decisions and actions, too. When we choose to rebel and sin against God, the consequences are severe: lives are broken, relationships are ruined, and there is ultimate condemnation from God. But when we are obedient, when we go God’s way, we reap God’s promised consequences, too. What God promises in his word, God does. Our own decisions, our own actions, determine how God’s word is fulfilled in our lives. If you wonder if your actions are in obedient to God’s expectations, ask yourself these questions:
- Are my actions consistent with loving God and loving others?
- Is this action true, right, pure, lovely, excellent, and praiseworthy?
- How will this action or decision influence my friendships, my marriage, and my relationship with my children?
- Do my actions line up with what I know about biblical teaching?
- How will this impact on my character and integrity?
- Will this action lead to sin, sorrow, and regret?
And who knows how the consequences of your actions will affect others later on? If the story of Abram teaches us anything, it shows us that what we see with our eyes is not all there is to see. If you are obedient, God will work his plan out through you so that others will know the promise of salvation.
A famous preacher named Tony Evans often tells about his family. His father and mother hated one another. Tony tells of growing up listening to his parents arguing, beating one another, even taking out knives to threaten each other at times. One day Tony’s father went to work and a co‑worker, demonstrating unbridled obedience to God, shared his faith. During a break he took Tony's father through the Bible and showed him how Christ had come to save sinners and restore relationships. It was just the hope that the father needed in his life. That day Tony’s father knew what it meant to have a relationship with God through Christ. And from that time on, every night around 2 AM, Tony’s father would sneak downstairs, read his Bible, and pray for his family. He prayed for peace between him and his wife. One night, while Tony’s dad was reading and praying, the mother come downstairs to pick a fight. The wife said, “I want to know what’s going on around here. Every time I try to be mean to you, you’re nice. Every time I try to get mad at you, you forgive me. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever you have, I want it.” That night, the forgiving grace of God was revealed to Tony’s mother, and his family’s life was changed. The parents led all their children to know and follow Jesus Christ. Tony went on to become the first African American to get a doctorate from Dallas Theological Seminary. He started a store‑front church with 10 or 15 members that new has an attendance of 2000 people. Tony Evans has a radio program heard all across the world. He is a voice for transformation of the inner cities and racial reconciliation. Because of the father’s obedience in hearing and following God’s voice, a chain reaction was set off, which enabled thousands of people to hear and respond to the gospel.
After telling us about God's call and God’s promises, the Bible tells us that Abram and his family set off. Abram obeyed God. He did not know how God would do what he said, but he knew that God would do what he said. Here is Abram, a man who took his aging wife and left home at the age of 75 years old to become a nomad who had faith as his only map.
When God speaks, he always expects his people to listen. Yes, God gives us the freedom to make our own decision, but God’s blessing in our lives rests upon our decision to obey.
Obedience means doing what we really don’t like to do or want to do, but doing it just because it’s the right thing to do.
- Obedience means going beyond profession to performance, beyond lip service to life service.
- Obedience means stepping out of our comfort zones, seeking new experiences, and finding new ways to demonstrate God’s love and power.
- Obedience means allowing God’s word to determine our values, our morals and life principles.
An account is told of a TV news crew that was assigned to southern Florida in the wake of hurricane Andrew. In the middle of the devastation stood one lone house still on its foundation. The owner was cleaning up the yard when a reporter asked, “Sir, why is your house the only one still standing? How did you manage to escape the severe damage of the hurricane?” The man replied, “I built this house myself. I also built it according to the Florida state building code. When the code called for 2 X 6 roof trusses, I used 2 X 6 roof trusses. I was told that a house built according to the code could withstand a hurricane. I did, and it did. I suppose no one else around here followed the code.”
When the sun is shining and the skies are blue, building our lives and making our life decisions based on anything other than God’s instructions can be tempting. But, will it hold up when the devastating moments come? There is one way to be sure we can withstand the storms of life. We need to make sure we are not only listening for God’s plan, but also putting the plan into action.
In the confused and muddy paths of our lives God still shows us the way. God acts by calling people like Abram and Sarai, and you and me to do things that don’t always come naturally. Are you hearing God’s voice? Are you able to see the next path God wants you to take? Are you too scared to hear what God has to say? All I can offer is this ... trust that God’s promises are true, trust your instincts, and take the risk. As you are obedient, you will see how God responds when his people follow him.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
A Prayer for Children
Some people asked me for a copy of the prayer I offered for Children's Sunday. It is printed below. Also, check out Tim Burke's sermon at the church website.
We pray for the children who put chocolate fingers on everything, who love to be tickled, who stomp in puddles and ruin new pants, who eat candy before supper and who can never find their shoes in the morning.
And we also pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who have never bound down the street in a new pair of shoes, who never played "one potato, two potatoes," and who are born in places that we would not be caught dead in and they will be.
We pray for the children who give us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleeps with their dog and who bury their goldfish, who hug us so tightly and who forget their lunch money, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who watch their fathers shave, and who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those who will never get dessert, who have no favorite blanket to drag around behind them, who watch their fathers suffer, who cannot find any bread to steal, who do not have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures are on milk cartons instead of on dressers, and whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children who spend all their allowance by Tuesday, who pick at their food, who love ghost stories, who shove their dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse the bathtub, who love visits from the Tooth Fairy, even after they find out who it really is, who do not like to be kissed in front of the school bus, and who squirm during services.
And we also pray for those children whose nightmares occur in the daytime, who will eat anything, who have never seen a dentist, who are not spoiled by anyone, who go to bed hungry and wake up hungry, who live and move and have no address.
We pray for those children who like to be carried and for those children who have to be carried. for those who give up and for those who never give up, for those who will grab the hand of anyone kind enough to offer it and for those who find no hand to grab.
For all these children, we pray today, for they are all so precious
We pray for the children who put chocolate fingers on everything, who love to be tickled, who stomp in puddles and ruin new pants, who eat candy before supper and who can never find their shoes in the morning.
And we also pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who have never bound down the street in a new pair of shoes, who never played "one potato, two potatoes," and who are born in places that we would not be caught dead in and they will be.
We pray for the children who give us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleeps with their dog and who bury their goldfish, who hug us so tightly and who forget their lunch money, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who watch their fathers shave, and who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those who will never get dessert, who have no favorite blanket to drag around behind them, who watch their fathers suffer, who cannot find any bread to steal, who do not have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures are on milk cartons instead of on dressers, and whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children who spend all their allowance by Tuesday, who pick at their food, who love ghost stories, who shove their dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse the bathtub, who love visits from the Tooth Fairy, even after they find out who it really is, who do not like to be kissed in front of the school bus, and who squirm during services.
And we also pray for those children whose nightmares occur in the daytime, who will eat anything, who have never seen a dentist, who are not spoiled by anyone, who go to bed hungry and wake up hungry, who live and move and have no address.
We pray for those children who like to be carried and for those children who have to be carried. for those who give up and for those who never give up, for those who will grab the hand of anyone kind enough to offer it and for those who find no hand to grab.
For all these children, we pray today, for they are all so precious
Tuesday, June 7, 2005
Sermon for June 5, 2005
What’s Your Calling?[1]
Matthew 9:9-13
A real estate developer had approached a group of people about investing in his real estate ventures. The developer was an incredibly successful businessman. He lived in a huge mansion, drove classy cars, wore expensive suits. He was aggressive in his business and oozed confidence. Well, one day an investor actually followed up on land registration documents and went to inspect the office complex that he invested in. When he arrived, he found an empty lot. This investor was a retired man. He invested his entire life’s savings with the developer. When he approached the developer, he got a major run around. The retired man was offered his money back with interest, he was assured that he had the facts wrong, he’d gone to the wrong place. He was told that it was the building contractor who was at fault and the contractor was currently under police investigation so he, the investor, had to keep a low profile. The investor went to his lawyer, who went to the police. Eventually the developer’s schemes were uncovered.
The money was gone, squandered in high living, luxurious homes and expensive travel. Many suspected that he hid the money in offshore bank accounts, beyond the reach of lawyers and accountants. The developer was sentenced to four years. He was legally bankrupt, but many wondered about the missing funds, and many, many people were left with their lives pillaged.
And so, the story would end, like so many others -- another in a long list of false promises and greed. But it continues. When the developer was released from prison, the local media interviewed him. “How did he feel?” they asked. “Great!” he replied. He was at peace with himself. Jail had been the best experience of his life. Why? Well, because he’d found Jesus! While jailed as the common criminal, he’d discovered the grace of Jesus Christ and the burdens of his life were lifted. Hallelujah!
Everyone loves a story with a happy ending . . . except those whose lives were left broken by his deceit. There was no offer to pay back the money. There was no attempt to account for all the missing money. It’s a circumstance that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Fine, he got religion. But, what about responsibility and being held accountable for one’s actions? What about justice?
Today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel deals with a similar circumstance. Typically, we would read this passage from the perspective of Matthew, the tax collector the one whom Jesus called. Tax Collectors were considered ‘scum of the earth.’ In the first century, taxes weren’t collected by data-entry clerks typing your tax return into a computer. In Imperial Rome, the government contracted local businessmen to collect taxes. The local collectors were required to pay the tax assessment in advance from their own wallets, and then organize collection in their districts in hopes of turning a profit. The tax collectors whom we read about in the gospels were employees of the local chief tax collector. They were often people who are unable to find other work. Their salary was taken from what they collected beyond their quota. Tax collecting was distasteful, shameful work, but somebody’s had to do it. Desperate individuals would find themselves collecting, in much the same way that some people today lower themselves to work in illegal or immoral professions in order to put food on their tables. The tax collector was dead to his world, he was a parasite, a fungus-like creature that existed only by what it can suck out from the living.
Traditionally we read this passage and get the idea that Jesus rescued Matthew from his death, not a physical death, but a moral, ethical, social death. Out of the blue, Jesus strides onto the scene, and offers his hand, pulling a vile scum bag from his social death. This is a story of Amazing Grace, of undeserved forgiveness and restoration, a story of being pulled back into life by Jesus Christ.
The tax collector is absolved of any evildoing he may have committed, not because of any good deeds he’s performed, but because of God’s undeserved and unwarranted love. This is the traditional way of looking at this passage, and passages like it, but there’s a problem. It gets back to the issue of justice and fairness. Why do the wicked seem to get off free? The traditional Christian response is to say: We’re all low down, wretched sinners who deserve to be boiled in oil for our sins. The difference between the Hitlers and Mother Theresas of the world and us is only a matter of degree. In God’s sight, we’re all horrible, evil creatures and God’s grace is fully manifested for everyone in Jesus Christ. John Calvin, the great-granddaddy of our theology, fleshed this out in his doctrine of total depravity, and this doctrine is reflected in most of orthodox Christian thinking to this day.
There is another scriptural perspective we need to think about, though. We are children of God, and what God creates is, by definition, good. But all of us live in a world that sucks us down, that scratches away at who we are, such that we find ourselves taking on the role of tax collector, in order to make ends meet, and as time goes on we become more and more cynical and corrupt. Or we lose sight of our humanity and the humanity of our neighbors, and we sometimes begin thinking about how we can get ahead of another, or get ourselves out of trouble, using any means possible.
If we read these passages with a compassionate eye, we see people who are wrapped up in situations from which they can’t get free. And we see Jesus Christ boldly step into their lives, and restore their status as God’s children. So if we look at the world around us, we recognize people who test the bounds of our graciousness, we see people who prey on others, who absorb the dignity of others, who try and take for themselves what rightly belong to others. The passage this morning cautions us against looking at others from the viewpoint of the Pharisees, seeing others as unclean sinners.
The Pharisees had rules piled on rules about how to please God through ritual sacrifices, dietary codes, and finely argued points of moral behavior. Like small-town gossips, they watched each other for lapses. The Pharisees took pride in their purity. Jesus taught and lived differently. He looked for sinners, invited himself to supper with them, and said, “I desire mercy, not sacrifices.” Mercy is kind and compassionate. Mercy sees beyond rules and penalties. Mercy sees the heart of the sinner and knows that there is a time to draw lines but also a time to blur them.
Jesus invites us to welcome even the most unwanted people as children of God, no matter what events or circumstances or deliberate acts have brought them to where they are. They are children of God, and so are we.
Each of us here today–we have a calling. We are called to be God’s children. Think about the children in your loves. They are the physical reminder of how God sees us, even the one’s who misbehave . . . even the one’s who try our patience . . .even the children who test the limits. Have you ever looked at a child who’s misbehaving and say, “Why don’t the parent’s do something?” Well, someone could say the same thing to the child-turned-tax-collector in each of us. The answer is, God, our heavenly Parent already has. Jesus came to remind us that we are created in God’s image. Even when we throw out our integrity and compromise our morals, we are still God’s children, and we have an opportunity to be restored. We remember our Lord who said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. . .I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
As we come to the communion table today, we remember that Jesus invites everyone to come and share the feast. It’s not only for those who have it all together, or who smell pretty, or who hold titles and prestige. God’s grace is also for the desperate and destitute, the compromised and the criminal. In this place, we remember that we are all God’s children. May we see Jesus Christ boldly step into our lives, and restore us to who and what God created us to be.
[1]sermon ideas taken from http://sermoncentral.com/outsideURL.asp?OutsideURL=http://www.wwjd.net/muirhead/serm103.htm
Matthew 9:9-13
A real estate developer had approached a group of people about investing in his real estate ventures. The developer was an incredibly successful businessman. He lived in a huge mansion, drove classy cars, wore expensive suits. He was aggressive in his business and oozed confidence. Well, one day an investor actually followed up on land registration documents and went to inspect the office complex that he invested in. When he arrived, he found an empty lot. This investor was a retired man. He invested his entire life’s savings with the developer. When he approached the developer, he got a major run around. The retired man was offered his money back with interest, he was assured that he had the facts wrong, he’d gone to the wrong place. He was told that it was the building contractor who was at fault and the contractor was currently under police investigation so he, the investor, had to keep a low profile. The investor went to his lawyer, who went to the police. Eventually the developer’s schemes were uncovered.
The money was gone, squandered in high living, luxurious homes and expensive travel. Many suspected that he hid the money in offshore bank accounts, beyond the reach of lawyers and accountants. The developer was sentenced to four years. He was legally bankrupt, but many wondered about the missing funds, and many, many people were left with their lives pillaged.
And so, the story would end, like so many others -- another in a long list of false promises and greed. But it continues. When the developer was released from prison, the local media interviewed him. “How did he feel?” they asked. “Great!” he replied. He was at peace with himself. Jail had been the best experience of his life. Why? Well, because he’d found Jesus! While jailed as the common criminal, he’d discovered the grace of Jesus Christ and the burdens of his life were lifted. Hallelujah!
Everyone loves a story with a happy ending . . . except those whose lives were left broken by his deceit. There was no offer to pay back the money. There was no attempt to account for all the missing money. It’s a circumstance that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Fine, he got religion. But, what about responsibility and being held accountable for one’s actions? What about justice?
Today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel deals with a similar circumstance. Typically, we would read this passage from the perspective of Matthew, the tax collector the one whom Jesus called. Tax Collectors were considered ‘scum of the earth.’ In the first century, taxes weren’t collected by data-entry clerks typing your tax return into a computer. In Imperial Rome, the government contracted local businessmen to collect taxes. The local collectors were required to pay the tax assessment in advance from their own wallets, and then organize collection in their districts in hopes of turning a profit. The tax collectors whom we read about in the gospels were employees of the local chief tax collector. They were often people who are unable to find other work. Their salary was taken from what they collected beyond their quota. Tax collecting was distasteful, shameful work, but somebody’s had to do it. Desperate individuals would find themselves collecting, in much the same way that some people today lower themselves to work in illegal or immoral professions in order to put food on their tables. The tax collector was dead to his world, he was a parasite, a fungus-like creature that existed only by what it can suck out from the living.
Traditionally we read this passage and get the idea that Jesus rescued Matthew from his death, not a physical death, but a moral, ethical, social death. Out of the blue, Jesus strides onto the scene, and offers his hand, pulling a vile scum bag from his social death. This is a story of Amazing Grace, of undeserved forgiveness and restoration, a story of being pulled back into life by Jesus Christ.
The tax collector is absolved of any evildoing he may have committed, not because of any good deeds he’s performed, but because of God’s undeserved and unwarranted love. This is the traditional way of looking at this passage, and passages like it, but there’s a problem. It gets back to the issue of justice and fairness. Why do the wicked seem to get off free? The traditional Christian response is to say: We’re all low down, wretched sinners who deserve to be boiled in oil for our sins. The difference between the Hitlers and Mother Theresas of the world and us is only a matter of degree. In God’s sight, we’re all horrible, evil creatures and God’s grace is fully manifested for everyone in Jesus Christ. John Calvin, the great-granddaddy of our theology, fleshed this out in his doctrine of total depravity, and this doctrine is reflected in most of orthodox Christian thinking to this day.
There is another scriptural perspective we need to think about, though. We are children of God, and what God creates is, by definition, good. But all of us live in a world that sucks us down, that scratches away at who we are, such that we find ourselves taking on the role of tax collector, in order to make ends meet, and as time goes on we become more and more cynical and corrupt. Or we lose sight of our humanity and the humanity of our neighbors, and we sometimes begin thinking about how we can get ahead of another, or get ourselves out of trouble, using any means possible.
If we read these passages with a compassionate eye, we see people who are wrapped up in situations from which they can’t get free. And we see Jesus Christ boldly step into their lives, and restore their status as God’s children. So if we look at the world around us, we recognize people who test the bounds of our graciousness, we see people who prey on others, who absorb the dignity of others, who try and take for themselves what rightly belong to others. The passage this morning cautions us against looking at others from the viewpoint of the Pharisees, seeing others as unclean sinners.
The Pharisees had rules piled on rules about how to please God through ritual sacrifices, dietary codes, and finely argued points of moral behavior. Like small-town gossips, they watched each other for lapses. The Pharisees took pride in their purity. Jesus taught and lived differently. He looked for sinners, invited himself to supper with them, and said, “I desire mercy, not sacrifices.” Mercy is kind and compassionate. Mercy sees beyond rules and penalties. Mercy sees the heart of the sinner and knows that there is a time to draw lines but also a time to blur them.
Jesus invites us to welcome even the most unwanted people as children of God, no matter what events or circumstances or deliberate acts have brought them to where they are. They are children of God, and so are we.
Each of us here today–we have a calling. We are called to be God’s children. Think about the children in your loves. They are the physical reminder of how God sees us, even the one’s who misbehave . . . even the one’s who try our patience . . .even the children who test the limits. Have you ever looked at a child who’s misbehaving and say, “Why don’t the parent’s do something?” Well, someone could say the same thing to the child-turned-tax-collector in each of us. The answer is, God, our heavenly Parent already has. Jesus came to remind us that we are created in God’s image. Even when we throw out our integrity and compromise our morals, we are still God’s children, and we have an opportunity to be restored. We remember our Lord who said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. . .I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
As we come to the communion table today, we remember that Jesus invites everyone to come and share the feast. It’s not only for those who have it all together, or who smell pretty, or who hold titles and prestige. God’s grace is also for the desperate and destitute, the compromised and the criminal. In this place, we remember that we are all God’s children. May we see Jesus Christ boldly step into our lives, and restore us to who and what God created us to be.
[1]sermon ideas taken from http://sermoncentral.com/outsideURL.asp?OutsideURL=http://www.wwjd.net/muirhead/serm103.htm
Sunday, June 5, 2005
Sermon for May 29
Thy Kingdom Come
Matthew 7:15 25
Have you ever wanted something badly? Maybe you’ve pondered how much happier your life would be if you could have a certain item, or maybe be in a relationship with a certain person. Maybe you’ve stayed awake at night thinking how fulfilled you’d feel if you had the object of your heart’s desire. Now picture a time when you actually got what you wanted. Have you ever been sorry that you got what you asked for? I remember when I was a little boy. All my friends seemed to have exotic animals like snakes and iguanas. I decided that I needed a turtle. For days, I asked my parents if I could have a pet turtle. Well, one day my dad came home with a cardboard box, and inside was a little painted turtle. Now you’d think I would have picked it up and taken it for a walk, or played with it, or fed it, or something. But, the second I laid eyes on that creepy-looking, hard shelled menace, I started screaming in fear. The day before I begged and pleaded for that turtle, and the moment I finally got it I was terrified. My father let the turtle go near the brook in our back yard, and I cried all night long.
Often when we pray, we don’t realize what we are committing ourselves to. We don’t stop and think about the consequences of our requests. Some of us desire to be more like Jesus, but we are aren’t so sure it’s worth it when it means taking up our cross and following him. Some of us want to be more loving, but we forget that it means reaching out to the unlovable and loving our enemies. Another example is when we pray the words, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.” We rattle those words off every week in church, but do we think about the crucial impact that these words can have on our lives. What does it really mean to ask God for his kingdom to come to earth? What does it mean to do God’s will?
If we are going to pray for God’s Kingdom to come to earth, we might as well be clear on what God’s Kingdom is. Jesus talked about God’s Kingdom a lot. In fact, Jesus began his public ministry by saying, “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is near” (Matthew 4:17). A dawning kingdom was about to be established. It was not a kingdom of this world, but a kingdom in the hearts of God's people (John 18:36). God’s kingdom could only be entered by making a 180-degree turn from the old life -- believing in Jesus’ words and following his example. “The Kingdom of God is not a stagnant concept. It was established by Christ, and continues to grow until Christ returns. The Kingdom of God is here at this moment in the Church, in the hearts and lives of those who are true followers of Christ. The true kingdom has always been made up of those in whose heart Christ dwells through faith (1).
Nothing can compare with being part of God’s rule on earth. The problem is that when something is desirable, we often want all the benefits without having to put in any effort. It’s that genie in the lamp syndrome. We fantasize about how great life would be if God would simply answer our wishes without us having to do any of the work to achieve our goal. Jesus recognized this problem in his own day. There were teachers who wanted all the benefits of God’s kingdom. They wanted to be able to claim God’s love and salvation. They wanted to be part of the Christian community, but they didn’t want to make any sacrifices. Jesus says that these people are going to stand before him one day and cry out, “Lord, Lord,” as if it’s some sort of secret password into the Kingdom. They’ll say, “Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God sponsored projects had everyone talking.” You’d expect that Jesus would say, “Great work. You’re in.” But Jesus surprises these folks. He says, “Yeah, that’s all fine. You did a bunch of great things, but you never took the time to know me. You missed the boat. All you did was use my name to make yourselves important. You don’t impress me one bit. You’re out of here” (2). Their words are impressive but their words don’t match their actions. On the outside, they look and sounded like respectable Christians. On the inside, there is something missing.
We can’t pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” without also praying, “Thy will be done.” We are actually asking God to form the kingdom through our obedience to God’s will. The Kingdom of heaven is entered on Jesus Christ’s terms, not our own. I realize that statements like this go against the world’s wisdom. We want to go through life on our terms. I heard a story about a farmer who noticed a sign by the local airport that said: Experience the thrill of flying. The farmer thought to himself, “Tomorrow is my wife's birthday. I’d love for her to experience the thrill of flying.” The pilot went into the airport and found a pilot who would take the couple on a plane ride. He owned a small open cockpit plane that would certainly give the farmer’s wife a thrill, but the price was too high. The farmer bartered with the pilot for a long time. Finally, the pilot agreed to lower the price on one condition: the farmer and his wife had to promise not to say a single word during the entire flight. One word spoken aloud, however small, would increase the price to the pilot’s original fee. The farmer’s determination to give his wife the thrill of flying was only surpassed by his determination to spend as little money as possible, so he agreed. The next morning the three of them took off. The pilot knew if he did a few dips and turns the couple would soon speak. With that in mind he dropped, turned, climbed, dived, and even did a few loops. Not a sound was uttered from the couple. Not a scream. Not even a whimper. Just silence. As they were landing the pilot was amazed at his passengers’ determination. He said, “I can't believe you didn’t say something up there. I guess you win.” The old farmer shouted back, “Well, you almost won. I sure felt like hollerin’ when my wife fell out.”
The old farmer was determined to get what he wanted on his own terms. We can be a lot like that. We let pride and stubbornness get in the way of doing what is right. We say, “Jesus, we hear you calling, but we’re determined to do it our own way. Just tell us where we need to end up, and we’ll draw our own map. We'll consider your advice, though, and if we think it’s any good, we might just follow your suggestions.” It sounds so silly, doesn’t it? Is this how you’re supposed to approach the God of the universe? We think we can dictate the terms of our obedience to God. God has already drawn up the terms, and his expectation is always obedience. Jesus says, “You follow me! I'll do the leading” (3). The Gospels repeatedly insist that the members of Christ’s Kingdom are those who obey him. It does no good to hail Jesus saying, “Lord, Lord,” to honor God’s name in doctrine, hymn, and prayer, if you don’t obey him. You can only enter the Kingdom if you answer the call of Jesus to come to him, and then show your willingness to obey (4).
If we are going to pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” then we need to be willing to be led where Christ leads us. Let me tell you a story about a person who modeled the values of Christ’s Kingdom. This story has actually been through many generations of e mail, so I can’t vouch for its historical value. But the point is still relevant. A mother of three was trying to complete her college degree. Her final class was Sociology, and her final project of the term was called, “Smile.” The class was asked to go out, smile at three people, and document their reactions. This woman was typically a friendly person anyway, so she thought the assignment would be a piece of cake. The mother and her family went out to McDonalds. They were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of the sudden everyone around them started to back away. The lady said, “I did not move an inch ... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had all moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible ‘dirty body’ smell ... and there standing before me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman close to me, he was smiling, His beautiful, sky blue eyes were full of God’s light as he searched for acceptance. He said, ‘Good day,’ as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient, and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears as I stood there with them. The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. ‘Coffee is all Miss,’ because that’s all they could afford. Then I really felt it. The compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That’s when I noticed all eyes on the restaurant were fixed on me ... judging my reaction. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to where the men were sitting. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman’s cold hand. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, ‘Thank you.’ I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, I did not do this for you ... God is working through me to give you hope.” I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son ... That day showed me the pure light of God's sweet love.”
The Kingdom of God is where Jesus Christ is. And Jesus Christ lingers in the darkest places in the world. Jesus sits with the lonely and dejected. He holds the isolated and depressed. He grieves with those who suffer loss. He understands the plight of the homeless and the refugees. The Kingdom of God appears precisely at the place where there is blindness, leprosy, lameness, and death (5). This is what makes obedience so difficult. We are called to follow Christ, but Jesus stands with those whom we typically don’t associate. He is loving them with unconditional acceptance, and calling us to demonstrate his kingdom by doing the same.
We can have great programs and smooth words. We can stand before Jesus and say, “Lord, Lord, wasn’t I a deacon, or a trustee, or a Sunday School teacher. Didn’t I give my money, and get involved in the community? Didn’t I try to be a good-natured Christian? Didn’t I put a Christian fish, a yellow ribbon and an American flag on the back bumper of my car?” There’s nothing wrong with any of these positions in themselves, but the Kingdom of God is more than having titles on a resume. It’s following Christ to the places where no one else wants to go, and loving others with clear words and meaningful actions. We don’t do it or to win a popularity contest. We don’t do it to gain the admiration of others. Like the women at McDonald’s we need to be obedient so that God may work through us to give another person hope.
“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.” What challenging words. I’m not going to pretend that the values of Christ’s kingdom are easy to uphold. Obedience is hard. I struggle with it every day of my life. Each new day presents itself with new opportunities, new choices. I will have contact with a dozen people, and every word that comes out of my mouth is coupled with a choice to be there for me or to be there for someone else. I need to decide, will I do what I want, or what Jesus wants? Will I serve God or myself today? And to be honest, many times I choose myself. Sometimes I’m more comfortable following my own way and feeding my own desires. Maybe it’s the same with you. May God save us from just talking about all the impressive Christian things we do if it is at the expense of actually meeting Christ and the people he chooses to associate with.
Sources:
(1) Jim Davis, “The Nature of Christ's Kingdom,” www.sermoncentral.com
(2) Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 1993),21. 2
(3) John Bright, The Kingdom of God (New York: Abingdon, 1953), 218, 219, 220, 223.
(4) Russell Metcalf "Entering the Kingdom," www.sermoncentral.com
(5) Helmut Thielicke, Our Heavenly Father (New York: Harper& Brothers, 1960),60,61. 5
Matthew 7:15 25
Have you ever wanted something badly? Maybe you’ve pondered how much happier your life would be if you could have a certain item, or maybe be in a relationship with a certain person. Maybe you’ve stayed awake at night thinking how fulfilled you’d feel if you had the object of your heart’s desire. Now picture a time when you actually got what you wanted. Have you ever been sorry that you got what you asked for? I remember when I was a little boy. All my friends seemed to have exotic animals like snakes and iguanas. I decided that I needed a turtle. For days, I asked my parents if I could have a pet turtle. Well, one day my dad came home with a cardboard box, and inside was a little painted turtle. Now you’d think I would have picked it up and taken it for a walk, or played with it, or fed it, or something. But, the second I laid eyes on that creepy-looking, hard shelled menace, I started screaming in fear. The day before I begged and pleaded for that turtle, and the moment I finally got it I was terrified. My father let the turtle go near the brook in our back yard, and I cried all night long.
Often when we pray, we don’t realize what we are committing ourselves to. We don’t stop and think about the consequences of our requests. Some of us desire to be more like Jesus, but we are aren’t so sure it’s worth it when it means taking up our cross and following him. Some of us want to be more loving, but we forget that it means reaching out to the unlovable and loving our enemies. Another example is when we pray the words, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.” We rattle those words off every week in church, but do we think about the crucial impact that these words can have on our lives. What does it really mean to ask God for his kingdom to come to earth? What does it mean to do God’s will?
If we are going to pray for God’s Kingdom to come to earth, we might as well be clear on what God’s Kingdom is. Jesus talked about God’s Kingdom a lot. In fact, Jesus began his public ministry by saying, “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is near” (Matthew 4:17). A dawning kingdom was about to be established. It was not a kingdom of this world, but a kingdom in the hearts of God's people (John 18:36). God’s kingdom could only be entered by making a 180-degree turn from the old life -- believing in Jesus’ words and following his example. “The Kingdom of God is not a stagnant concept. It was established by Christ, and continues to grow until Christ returns. The Kingdom of God is here at this moment in the Church, in the hearts and lives of those who are true followers of Christ. The true kingdom has always been made up of those in whose heart Christ dwells through faith (1).
Nothing can compare with being part of God’s rule on earth. The problem is that when something is desirable, we often want all the benefits without having to put in any effort. It’s that genie in the lamp syndrome. We fantasize about how great life would be if God would simply answer our wishes without us having to do any of the work to achieve our goal. Jesus recognized this problem in his own day. There were teachers who wanted all the benefits of God’s kingdom. They wanted to be able to claim God’s love and salvation. They wanted to be part of the Christian community, but they didn’t want to make any sacrifices. Jesus says that these people are going to stand before him one day and cry out, “Lord, Lord,” as if it’s some sort of secret password into the Kingdom. They’ll say, “Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God sponsored projects had everyone talking.” You’d expect that Jesus would say, “Great work. You’re in.” But Jesus surprises these folks. He says, “Yeah, that’s all fine. You did a bunch of great things, but you never took the time to know me. You missed the boat. All you did was use my name to make yourselves important. You don’t impress me one bit. You’re out of here” (2). Their words are impressive but their words don’t match their actions. On the outside, they look and sounded like respectable Christians. On the inside, there is something missing.
We can’t pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” without also praying, “Thy will be done.” We are actually asking God to form the kingdom through our obedience to God’s will. The Kingdom of heaven is entered on Jesus Christ’s terms, not our own. I realize that statements like this go against the world’s wisdom. We want to go through life on our terms. I heard a story about a farmer who noticed a sign by the local airport that said: Experience the thrill of flying. The farmer thought to himself, “Tomorrow is my wife's birthday. I’d love for her to experience the thrill of flying.” The pilot went into the airport and found a pilot who would take the couple on a plane ride. He owned a small open cockpit plane that would certainly give the farmer’s wife a thrill, but the price was too high. The farmer bartered with the pilot for a long time. Finally, the pilot agreed to lower the price on one condition: the farmer and his wife had to promise not to say a single word during the entire flight. One word spoken aloud, however small, would increase the price to the pilot’s original fee. The farmer’s determination to give his wife the thrill of flying was only surpassed by his determination to spend as little money as possible, so he agreed. The next morning the three of them took off. The pilot knew if he did a few dips and turns the couple would soon speak. With that in mind he dropped, turned, climbed, dived, and even did a few loops. Not a sound was uttered from the couple. Not a scream. Not even a whimper. Just silence. As they were landing the pilot was amazed at his passengers’ determination. He said, “I can't believe you didn’t say something up there. I guess you win.” The old farmer shouted back, “Well, you almost won. I sure felt like hollerin’ when my wife fell out.”
The old farmer was determined to get what he wanted on his own terms. We can be a lot like that. We let pride and stubbornness get in the way of doing what is right. We say, “Jesus, we hear you calling, but we’re determined to do it our own way. Just tell us where we need to end up, and we’ll draw our own map. We'll consider your advice, though, and if we think it’s any good, we might just follow your suggestions.” It sounds so silly, doesn’t it? Is this how you’re supposed to approach the God of the universe? We think we can dictate the terms of our obedience to God. God has already drawn up the terms, and his expectation is always obedience. Jesus says, “You follow me! I'll do the leading” (3). The Gospels repeatedly insist that the members of Christ’s Kingdom are those who obey him. It does no good to hail Jesus saying, “Lord, Lord,” to honor God’s name in doctrine, hymn, and prayer, if you don’t obey him. You can only enter the Kingdom if you answer the call of Jesus to come to him, and then show your willingness to obey (4).
If we are going to pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” then we need to be willing to be led where Christ leads us. Let me tell you a story about a person who modeled the values of Christ’s Kingdom. This story has actually been through many generations of e mail, so I can’t vouch for its historical value. But the point is still relevant. A mother of three was trying to complete her college degree. Her final class was Sociology, and her final project of the term was called, “Smile.” The class was asked to go out, smile at three people, and document their reactions. This woman was typically a friendly person anyway, so she thought the assignment would be a piece of cake. The mother and her family went out to McDonalds. They were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of the sudden everyone around them started to back away. The lady said, “I did not move an inch ... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had all moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible ‘dirty body’ smell ... and there standing before me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman close to me, he was smiling, His beautiful, sky blue eyes were full of God’s light as he searched for acceptance. He said, ‘Good day,’ as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient, and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears as I stood there with them. The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. ‘Coffee is all Miss,’ because that’s all they could afford. Then I really felt it. The compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That’s when I noticed all eyes on the restaurant were fixed on me ... judging my reaction. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to where the men were sitting. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman’s cold hand. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, ‘Thank you.’ I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, I did not do this for you ... God is working through me to give you hope.” I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son ... That day showed me the pure light of God's sweet love.”
The Kingdom of God is where Jesus Christ is. And Jesus Christ lingers in the darkest places in the world. Jesus sits with the lonely and dejected. He holds the isolated and depressed. He grieves with those who suffer loss. He understands the plight of the homeless and the refugees. The Kingdom of God appears precisely at the place where there is blindness, leprosy, lameness, and death (5). This is what makes obedience so difficult. We are called to follow Christ, but Jesus stands with those whom we typically don’t associate. He is loving them with unconditional acceptance, and calling us to demonstrate his kingdom by doing the same.
We can have great programs and smooth words. We can stand before Jesus and say, “Lord, Lord, wasn’t I a deacon, or a trustee, or a Sunday School teacher. Didn’t I give my money, and get involved in the community? Didn’t I try to be a good-natured Christian? Didn’t I put a Christian fish, a yellow ribbon and an American flag on the back bumper of my car?” There’s nothing wrong with any of these positions in themselves, but the Kingdom of God is more than having titles on a resume. It’s following Christ to the places where no one else wants to go, and loving others with clear words and meaningful actions. We don’t do it or to win a popularity contest. We don’t do it to gain the admiration of others. Like the women at McDonald’s we need to be obedient so that God may work through us to give another person hope.
“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.” What challenging words. I’m not going to pretend that the values of Christ’s kingdom are easy to uphold. Obedience is hard. I struggle with it every day of my life. Each new day presents itself with new opportunities, new choices. I will have contact with a dozen people, and every word that comes out of my mouth is coupled with a choice to be there for me or to be there for someone else. I need to decide, will I do what I want, or what Jesus wants? Will I serve God or myself today? And to be honest, many times I choose myself. Sometimes I’m more comfortable following my own way and feeding my own desires. Maybe it’s the same with you. May God save us from just talking about all the impressive Christian things we do if it is at the expense of actually meeting Christ and the people he chooses to associate with.
Sources:
(1) Jim Davis, “The Nature of Christ's Kingdom,” www.sermoncentral.com
(2) Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 1993),21. 2
(3) John Bright, The Kingdom of God (New York: Abingdon, 1953), 218, 219, 220, 223.
(4) Russell Metcalf "Entering the Kingdom," www.sermoncentral.com
(5) Helmut Thielicke, Our Heavenly Father (New York: Harper& Brothers, 1960),60,61. 5
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Sermon for May 22
The Authority to Make Disciples
Matthew 28:16-20; Luke 24:36-40
I recently stumbled upon some remarkable correspondence in the church files:
Honestly, I never noticed that verse before. I always skip right to the Lord’s final earthly words, but I never detected the fact that some of the disciples felt uneasy about worshiping Jesus. Something was holding them back. They were not ready to go out into the world and to teach and baptize and make disciples.
It still goes on today. We are people who believe that God loves us. We believe that Jesus lived, died, and rose from the grave to defeat sin and death and to offer us forgiveness and new abundant life. We know it. But many of us still hesitate when it comes to putting our beliefs into action. When we get to the part about living out our faith, we hold back. Some people will hesitate because they can’t believe that Jesus actually asks his followers to do such risky things like making disciples of all nations. Who is this Jesus that he would ask us to impose our faith on others. And who are we to go out and tell Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and Atheists that they are wrong. Isn’t that conceited? Certainly Jesus is not taking into account the complexity of pluralism and the principles of religious freedom.
Some people will hesitate because they still do not understand who Jesus is. They worship God, but they are uneasy with Jesus. They don’t know how Jesus fits in to the God-picture. Is he God, or is he a mere human? Sure, he’s important and influential. Sure we believe in him and respect what he taught. But, is Jesus worthy of our worship? Do we dare follow when we don’t really know him?
Some will hesitate because they are afraid of the consequences. We need to ask: what will following Jesus mean to my present level of comfort? What will I have to give up? What will it do to my family relationships? What will others think of me?
I’m reminded of a story I read about lobsters. From time to time lobsters have to leave their shells in order to grow. They need their shell to protect them from being torn apart, yet when they grow, the old shell must be abandoned. If they did not leave it, the old shell would soon become their prison – and finally their casket. 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 vulnerable period, hungry schools of fish are ready to make them part of the food chain. Currents toss them around from coral to kelp. I bet in those moments the old shell looks pretty good. We aren’t so different from lobsters in that respect. Even some of the eleven disciples were not able to leave their old lives. After the resurrection, they went back to the lives they lived before they had ever even heard of Jesus. In Luke’s version of the great commission, the risen Christ finds the disciples hiding out in a room. When Jesus materializes in front of them, they think he’s a ghost, and they are filled with fear and doubt. They could not shed their shells. They hesitated. They doubted. At first there is no visible change in their lives. Following Jesus is hard work. We have to shed our shells–the old structure and framework we’ve relied on. We step into dangerous waters so that we can grow and live the new life into which Jesus calls us.
So, how do we move from hesitation to active love for the world? I think part of the answer is found in Christ’s final words in Matthew’s Gospel: “Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Jesus’ authority over all heaven and earth flows from his ever-present love. Jesus says, “With my authority, the authority of love, preach my message to the ends of the earth.” The great commission is rooted in humility and mercy. If we are sharing the gospel out of self-righteousness, then our discipleship is flawed. Sometimes we think that because we apply the name Christian to ourselves, we have the right to think we are better than others. But, the name Christian reminds us that Christ literally loved us to death. Those who seek to follow Christ will find their authority deep-rooted in loving kindness. Out of gratitude, we share that love with others, teaching, baptizing, and witnessing to what we have seen God doing in our lives.
One of my majors in College was English. I ended up taking many classes with the Chair of the English Department. Dr. Peters was a large, pompous man who regularly intimidated students. He impressed fear into everyone. His authority came from his title, his position, and his ability to scare his students half to death. In a literature course on the age of classicism, Dr. Peters would bellow out, “Braddock, what, according to Alexander Pope, is the requirement for being a British magistrate?” He would scowl at me as I sat in stunned silence. “Well, Braddock, what’s your answer?” I would finally stammer out a made-up answer. “I think Pope says if a man wants to be a magistrate, he has to have a wife who sells Tupperware.” Dr. Peters would shake his head and look at me in disgust before moving on to the next victim.
I was also a teaching assistant for another English professor, Dr. Paul. One afternoon he handed me a stack of papers to grade. As I went though the pile of freshmen English journals, I was disgusted by how poor the work was. Each passing paper was worse than the one before it, and the marks I gave reflected my loathing for their pasty writing. I delivered the graded papers back to the Dr. Paul, shaking my head in repugnance. The next day I went to his office, and he had a stack of papers for me to look through. They were actually the journals I had corrected the day before. Dr. Paul had gone through and changed all of the grades to higher marks. When I asked him about it, all he did was quote an OT prophet: “Matt, in wrath, remember mercy.” That lesson has stayed with me. There is no doubt in my mind why Dr. Paul had a very devoted band of students on campus. Dr. Peter’s authority was fed by the fear of his students. Dr. Paul’s authority was rooted in mercy.
I think the same holds true with Jesus. His authority is not found in the way he scares followers into obedience. We don’t obey Jesus because we are afraid of what he will do to us if we don’t. No, Jesus’ authority comes from his deep, abiding love. We follow and believe because we’ve been marked by love.
Christians have historically had a problem with this concept. In the earliest centuries of the church, the goal was to save people through persuasion. But by the beginning of the dark ages, persuasion meant coercion. Charlemagne typifies the thinking at the time. Before he became the Holy Roman Emperor, he was warring with the Saxons. The goal was conversion of the pagan Saxons to the Christian faith. Because the goal was so worthwhile, Charlemagne approved of any means necessary to make them convert. In the year 755, the Saxons were defeated, and they submitted to mass baptisms over the next two years. Charlemagne wrote, “If there is anyone of the Saxon people lurking among them unbaptized, and if he scorns to come to baptism and he wishes to absent himself and stay a pagan, then let him die.”
I’m really not trying to dump on Christianity here, but we need to realize that this sort of ends-justifies-the-means thinking still exists in the church today. In 1998, news outlets reported on an amendment to KY state law that allowed ministers to carry concealed weapons in church buildings. On the Today Show, Maria Shriver interviewed a pastor who played a pivotal role in the new law. The preacher reported that down-and-outers looking for money often visit churches and he suggested that having a gun might provide protection from those who might desire to steal church contributions or hurt employees. Bewildered, Maria Shriver asked the preacher if he understood that his reliance upon a handgun stood at odds with the Christian proclamation of peace and reconciliation. Imagine having the wife of Arnold Schwarzeneggar, the poster boy for violent entertainment, reminding the church that the gospel bids believers to resolve conflict with methods that are different from those that rely upon physical force.[i]
The gun-toting preacher stands in stark contrast to another news account from the University of Southern California Medical School. In August of 1993, a young woman named Sopehia White went looking for a nurse named Elizabeth Staten brandishing a .38. Staten was allegedly cheating with White’s husband. Firing six shots, White hit Staten in the stomach and wrist. When Staten ran into the emergency room, White followed her, firing again. In the ER, with blood on her clothes and a hit pistol in her hand, another nurse, Joan Black, met the attacker. Nurse Black did the unthinkable. Black walked calmly to the gun-toting woman – and hugged her. Black spoke comforting words. The assailant said she didn’t have anything to live for, that Staten had stolen her family. Black said, “You’re in pain. I’m sorry, but everybody has pain in their life . . . I understand and we can work it out.” As they talked, the hospital invader kept her finder on the trigger. Once she began to lift the gun as if she would shoot herself. Nurse Black just pushed her arm down and continued to hold her. At last, Sopehia White gave the gun to the nurse. She was disarmed by a hug, by understanding, by compassion.
Who has the greater authority, the emperor who forces baptisms on pain of death, the minister with the gun, or the nurse who hugs attackers? Before you answer, let’s remember that on a cross at Calvary was nailed the One who was unjustly abused, tried and murdered–and his dying words were a prayer of forgiveness for those who killed him. Imagine the result if Jesus had lived in KY, and just before they nailed him to the cross he claimed his right as a citizen and pulled out a .38. Jesus Christ gained all authority by stretching out his arms, and disarming the world with by a hug, by understanding, by compassion.
The authority to make disciples comes from mercy, humility, and love. Nothing else will do. There is no need to hesitate or doubt. There is no need to hold back. The authority of Love goes with us. So go, teach everyone you meet, far and near, in the way of love. Invite them to share in our baptism. Instruct them in the teachings of Christ. And remember, Jesus will be with us as we do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.[ii]
[i]. Lee C. Camp, Mere Discipleship, 28, 34-35,
[ii]. See, The Message
Matthew 28:16-20; Luke 24:36-40
I recently stumbled upon some remarkable correspondence in the church files:
Dear Christians,
This is my commission to you -- in fact, you might even call it a great commission. You are to go to all people everywhere and call them to become my disciples. You are to baptize them and teach them to obey all that I have commanded you.Don’t forget. I will be with you always to help you, even to the end of the world. I will never leave you nor forsake you, because I love you. Please don’t forsake me.With all my love, Jesus ChristAnother letter was clipped to the back of it.
Sounds like Congregationalists to me–God’s frozen chosen. Hey–I’m a Congregationalist now, too. I love to study proposals and then come up with all the reasons why we can’t change. We’re not the only ones who do that, by the way. It’s human nature. In fact, when I was studying the texts for today’s sermon I ran across something I never read before. In Matthew’s account of the great commission, the eleven remaining disciples are standing on a mountain with Jesus. They text says when they saw him some worshiped, but some of them doubted. Some versions say that some of them hesitated. This could only mean one thing – some of the disciples were Congregationalists.Dear Jesus Christ:
We acknowledge the receipt of your recent communication. Your proposal is both interesting and challenging; however, due to a shortage of personnel, as well as several other financial and personal considerations, we do not feel that we can give proper emphasis to your challenge at this time. A committee has been appointed to study the feasibility of the plan. We should have a report to bring to our congregation sometime in the future. You may rest assured that we will give this our careful consideration, and our board will be praying for you and your efforts to find additional disciples.We do appreciate your offer to serve as a resource person, and should we decide to undertake this project at some point in the future, we’ll get back to you.Cordially,The
Christians
Honestly, I never noticed that verse before. I always skip right to the Lord’s final earthly words, but I never detected the fact that some of the disciples felt uneasy about worshiping Jesus. Something was holding them back. They were not ready to go out into the world and to teach and baptize and make disciples.
It still goes on today. We are people who believe that God loves us. We believe that Jesus lived, died, and rose from the grave to defeat sin and death and to offer us forgiveness and new abundant life. We know it. But many of us still hesitate when it comes to putting our beliefs into action. When we get to the part about living out our faith, we hold back. Some people will hesitate because they can’t believe that Jesus actually asks his followers to do such risky things like making disciples of all nations. Who is this Jesus that he would ask us to impose our faith on others. And who are we to go out and tell Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and Atheists that they are wrong. Isn’t that conceited? Certainly Jesus is not taking into account the complexity of pluralism and the principles of religious freedom.
Some people will hesitate because they still do not understand who Jesus is. They worship God, but they are uneasy with Jesus. They don’t know how Jesus fits in to the God-picture. Is he God, or is he a mere human? Sure, he’s important and influential. Sure we believe in him and respect what he taught. But, is Jesus worthy of our worship? Do we dare follow when we don’t really know him?
Some will hesitate because they are afraid of the consequences. We need to ask: what will following Jesus mean to my present level of comfort? What will I have to give up? What will it do to my family relationships? What will others think of me?
I’m reminded of a story I read about lobsters. From time to time lobsters have to leave their shells in order to grow. They need their shell to protect them from being torn apart, yet when they grow, the old shell must be abandoned. If they did not leave it, the old shell would soon become their prison – and finally their casket. 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 vulnerable period, hungry schools of fish are ready to make them part of the food chain. Currents toss them around from coral to kelp. I bet in those moments the old shell looks pretty good. We aren’t so different from lobsters in that respect. Even some of the eleven disciples were not able to leave their old lives. After the resurrection, they went back to the lives they lived before they had ever even heard of Jesus. In Luke’s version of the great commission, the risen Christ finds the disciples hiding out in a room. When Jesus materializes in front of them, they think he’s a ghost, and they are filled with fear and doubt. They could not shed their shells. They hesitated. They doubted. At first there is no visible change in their lives. Following Jesus is hard work. We have to shed our shells–the old structure and framework we’ve relied on. We step into dangerous waters so that we can grow and live the new life into which Jesus calls us.
So, how do we move from hesitation to active love for the world? I think part of the answer is found in Christ’s final words in Matthew’s Gospel: “Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Jesus’ authority over all heaven and earth flows from his ever-present love. Jesus says, “With my authority, the authority of love, preach my message to the ends of the earth.” The great commission is rooted in humility and mercy. If we are sharing the gospel out of self-righteousness, then our discipleship is flawed. Sometimes we think that because we apply the name Christian to ourselves, we have the right to think we are better than others. But, the name Christian reminds us that Christ literally loved us to death. Those who seek to follow Christ will find their authority deep-rooted in loving kindness. Out of gratitude, we share that love with others, teaching, baptizing, and witnessing to what we have seen God doing in our lives.
One of my majors in College was English. I ended up taking many classes with the Chair of the English Department. Dr. Peters was a large, pompous man who regularly intimidated students. He impressed fear into everyone. His authority came from his title, his position, and his ability to scare his students half to death. In a literature course on the age of classicism, Dr. Peters would bellow out, “Braddock, what, according to Alexander Pope, is the requirement for being a British magistrate?” He would scowl at me as I sat in stunned silence. “Well, Braddock, what’s your answer?” I would finally stammer out a made-up answer. “I think Pope says if a man wants to be a magistrate, he has to have a wife who sells Tupperware.” Dr. Peters would shake his head and look at me in disgust before moving on to the next victim.
I was also a teaching assistant for another English professor, Dr. Paul. One afternoon he handed me a stack of papers to grade. As I went though the pile of freshmen English journals, I was disgusted by how poor the work was. Each passing paper was worse than the one before it, and the marks I gave reflected my loathing for their pasty writing. I delivered the graded papers back to the Dr. Paul, shaking my head in repugnance. The next day I went to his office, and he had a stack of papers for me to look through. They were actually the journals I had corrected the day before. Dr. Paul had gone through and changed all of the grades to higher marks. When I asked him about it, all he did was quote an OT prophet: “Matt, in wrath, remember mercy.” That lesson has stayed with me. There is no doubt in my mind why Dr. Paul had a very devoted band of students on campus. Dr. Peter’s authority was fed by the fear of his students. Dr. Paul’s authority was rooted in mercy.
I think the same holds true with Jesus. His authority is not found in the way he scares followers into obedience. We don’t obey Jesus because we are afraid of what he will do to us if we don’t. No, Jesus’ authority comes from his deep, abiding love. We follow and believe because we’ve been marked by love.
Christians have historically had a problem with this concept. In the earliest centuries of the church, the goal was to save people through persuasion. But by the beginning of the dark ages, persuasion meant coercion. Charlemagne typifies the thinking at the time. Before he became the Holy Roman Emperor, he was warring with the Saxons. The goal was conversion of the pagan Saxons to the Christian faith. Because the goal was so worthwhile, Charlemagne approved of any means necessary to make them convert. In the year 755, the Saxons were defeated, and they submitted to mass baptisms over the next two years. Charlemagne wrote, “If there is anyone of the Saxon people lurking among them unbaptized, and if he scorns to come to baptism and he wishes to absent himself and stay a pagan, then let him die.”
I’m really not trying to dump on Christianity here, but we need to realize that this sort of ends-justifies-the-means thinking still exists in the church today. In 1998, news outlets reported on an amendment to KY state law that allowed ministers to carry concealed weapons in church buildings. On the Today Show, Maria Shriver interviewed a pastor who played a pivotal role in the new law. The preacher reported that down-and-outers looking for money often visit churches and he suggested that having a gun might provide protection from those who might desire to steal church contributions or hurt employees. Bewildered, Maria Shriver asked the preacher if he understood that his reliance upon a handgun stood at odds with the Christian proclamation of peace and reconciliation. Imagine having the wife of Arnold Schwarzeneggar, the poster boy for violent entertainment, reminding the church that the gospel bids believers to resolve conflict with methods that are different from those that rely upon physical force.[i]
The gun-toting preacher stands in stark contrast to another news account from the University of Southern California Medical School. In August of 1993, a young woman named Sopehia White went looking for a nurse named Elizabeth Staten brandishing a .38. Staten was allegedly cheating with White’s husband. Firing six shots, White hit Staten in the stomach and wrist. When Staten ran into the emergency room, White followed her, firing again. In the ER, with blood on her clothes and a hit pistol in her hand, another nurse, Joan Black, met the attacker. Nurse Black did the unthinkable. Black walked calmly to the gun-toting woman – and hugged her. Black spoke comforting words. The assailant said she didn’t have anything to live for, that Staten had stolen her family. Black said, “You’re in pain. I’m sorry, but everybody has pain in their life . . . I understand and we can work it out.” As they talked, the hospital invader kept her finder on the trigger. Once she began to lift the gun as if she would shoot herself. Nurse Black just pushed her arm down and continued to hold her. At last, Sopehia White gave the gun to the nurse. She was disarmed by a hug, by understanding, by compassion.
Who has the greater authority, the emperor who forces baptisms on pain of death, the minister with the gun, or the nurse who hugs attackers? Before you answer, let’s remember that on a cross at Calvary was nailed the One who was unjustly abused, tried and murdered–and his dying words were a prayer of forgiveness for those who killed him. Imagine the result if Jesus had lived in KY, and just before they nailed him to the cross he claimed his right as a citizen and pulled out a .38. Jesus Christ gained all authority by stretching out his arms, and disarming the world with by a hug, by understanding, by compassion.
The authority to make disciples comes from mercy, humility, and love. Nothing else will do. There is no need to hesitate or doubt. There is no need to hold back. The authority of Love goes with us. So go, teach everyone you meet, far and near, in the way of love. Invite them to share in our baptism. Instruct them in the teachings of Christ. And remember, Jesus will be with us as we do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.[ii]
[i]. Lee C. Camp, Mere Discipleship, 28, 34-35,
[ii]. See, The Message
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