Sermon for Sunday, August 31, 2008

What God Intends
Romans 12:9-21

Driving down White Plains Road, motorists see the street sign for the Trumbull Congregational Church. One of our deacons is in charge of updating the sign with quotes to entertain passing motorists. Once the sign said, “Don’t worry, Moses was also a basket case.” Another read, “Autumn leaves, Jesus doesn’t.” Right now the sign says, “God blesses us, even when we don’t sneeze.” I remember a moment about one year ago. Driving by the sign with a friend, my passenger read the latest message and groaned. It said, “Warning: Church may induce extreme bouts of happiness.” My cynical passenger turned to me and said, “It should be more like, ‘Warning: Church may cause extreme bouts of frustration.’ ” I laughed, knowing that his comments echo the response that many have towards church.

As a pastor, I am also frustrated by a religious institution that exists within twin realities. The first reality is that the church seems to fail in its mission. As one Christian theologian writes, “That the treasure of God’s grace reaches us surrounded by garbage will not seem surprising to anyone who is personally familiar with life in the church. Church history provides ample evidence of that garbage.” His words affirm something that I love and hate about the church: it is a human institution. We in the church make mistakes. We act like hypocrites. Idolatry tempts us as we seek to honor the values of God’s reign.

Another historic church document expresses the second reality of church existence. It states, “The Church of Jesus Christ is the provisional demonstration of what God intends for all of humanity.” This is an amazing thing to say, isn’t it? God is using us, here and now, to show our community what God intends! Though the church may slog through its garbage, we also embody Christ’s redemptive presence in the world. The church remains a place of haven, the bearer of living traditions and the unlikely body of Christ. However, like the passenger in my car, you may hear this affirmation of the church’s purpose and be tempted to say, “You gotta’ be kidding me! Can’t the church do better?” Welcome to the church, folks.

The Good News is that you just heard an invitation: right now, as you are, you can be a part of something -- specifically, a member of the Body of Christ. The tricky part is that the Body of Christ includes a lot of people who are every bit as difficult as we are.

A recent study claims that most churchgoers who abandon their weekly worship do so because they have had a dispute with a fellow member of the congregation. A disagreement on a range of issues, from the way the organ is played to the content of the sermon, was the reason that nearly three quarters of respondents to a survey gave for why they felt people had left the Church. People don’t usually leave over big doctrinal issues. Typical arguments take place over types of buildings, styles of worship, youth work. If not that, then they argue over the flowers.

Once people start arguing, it’s easy to keep it going. There are some simple steps you can follow if you want to turn disagreements into full-fledged feuds. Here’s what to do:

1. Be sure to develop and maintain a healthy fear of conflict, letting your own feelings build up so you are in an explosive frame of mind.
2. If you must state your concerns, be as vague and general as possible. Then the other person can’t do anything practical to change the situation.
3. Next, repeat these words to yourself regularly: “My mind is made up. Don’t confuse me with the facts.” Assume you know everything and you are totally right. It will help if you can misquote a Bible verse to clinch your case. Just make sure you do most of the talking.
4. With a touch of defiance, announce your willingness to talk with anyone who wishes to discuss the problem with you. But do not take steps to initiate such conversation.
5. Latch tenaciously onto whatever evidence you can find that shows the other person is merely jealous of you.
6. Judge the motivation of the other party on any previous experience that showed failure or unkindness. Keep track of any angry words.
7. Always view the issue as a win/lose struggle. Avoid possible solutions and go for total victory and unconditional surrender. Don’t get too many options on the table.
8. If all else fails, pass the buck! If you are about to get cornered into a solution, indicate you are without power to settle; you need your partner, your committee, whatever.

Of course, there’s another way. Our Reformed protestant tradition reminds us that the church is a servant for the reconciliation of the world. The local expression of the church is called to be a sign in and for the world of the new reality that God has made available in Jesus Christ. Our job is to communicate the reality of God’s grace to one another and the surrounding community.

Jesus gives some practical advice on how to handle arguments and conflicts within the church. Listen to what he tells his followers: “If another believer sins against you, go privately and point out the offense. If the other person listens and confesses it, you have won that person back. But if you are unsuccessful, take one or two others with you and go back again, so that everything you say may be confirmed by two or three witnesses. If the person still refuses to listen, take your case to the church.”

The first thing we learn is that we're to approach the person whose behavior hurt us directly, and privately. That way, the person you're speaking with has room to listen without losing face. And you have room to listen to other person, just in case your behavior has contributed negatively to the situation.

The quiet conversation isn't just a necessary step to a juicy public drama, nor is it solely an opportunity to try to get one's way. Our goal is reconciliation.

In other words, church conflict doesn't have to be a distraction from the mission of the Church; it can be a training ground for mission. It can even BE mission. As Christians, we believe that Christ is reconciling the whole world to God and to one another. So when two Christians take their conflict as an opportunity to practice reconciliation, the way they handle it can stand as a visible sign for we believe Christ is doing in the world. We are doing what God intends. Get it? We become an outward and visible sign of a grace that we believe is happening in a broader and more mysterious way in the world.

The bottom line is that Christian community -- all community, really -- is, as St. Benedict said, a “school for souls,” in which we learn not just how to live, but also how to experience abundant life. Jesus knew something that experience has affirmed for me: we understand best and deepest how God loves and forgives when we are, in our limited but growing way, extending that kind of love and forgiveness to others.

So when you meet people who are really difficult, stay in touch, and stay focused on God's love. Rejoice and be glad in that day. You get to love them. In the process you get a sense of how God loves you, and those who are watching get to see how much we mean it when we acclaim that the church is the demonstration of what God intends for humanity.

Trust me on this one: as long as you need everybody to be happy and agreeable, you'll always be anxious, but once you find and keep hold of the joy and peace the Spirit brings in the midst of working for reconciliation in a tense situation, you'll know a bubbling fountain of energy and freedom that can bring healing. Being human means that we will face times when we are angry, confused, or blind. Faithfulness to God can lead us to gratitude – an ability to focus on the good things God does in our midst, and not just on the ways we separate from one another. As Paul writes

... love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. ... Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. ... Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

Sermon for August Sunday 24, 2008

All or Nothing
Matthew 16:13-28

History records that he was a great man. Yet he had humble beginnings. He grew up in a small village, an ordinary boy who did not do much to draw attention to himself. He worked in the family business and did his best to grow up strong and healthy. Deep inside, however, he knew he had a special purpose – a destiny to fulfill. As he grew older, people began to notice that there was something special about this young man. He had talent and charisma. He was gifted like no other. It wasn’t long before he started attracting crowds. Thousands came to see and listen to him. He chose a small band of loyal companions who traveled with him everywhere he went. Many of them had given up their jobs just to be with their leader and take care of his needs. As his fame spread, some grew jealous of him. But his popularity only increased. He touched the lives of young and old alike, and brought joy and laughter to the downhearted. Many hailed him as a king. Toward the end of his short life, he suffered quite a bit. Some who followed him fell away and turned to others. He died alone. Those closest to him where left discouraged and confused. They never expected his life to end that way. Soon after his death, there were rumors that he didn’t really die. His followers spread the news all around. “He lives!” they said. “He is not dead!” Some claimed they actually saw him. Even today, many believe he is still alive. By now you’ve probably figured out who this great man was.

His name was Elvis Presley.

Funny how we can play with words, isn’t it? We use words to describe a certain reality. But the same words can turn reality on its head. Add different languages to the mix, and communication becomes more interesting. Our girls from Ethiopia use the word “kaka” a lot. Like English, if something is kaka, it’s dirty or yucky. We say, “Don’t touch that trash. It’s kaka!” Imagine if I said the same thing to a Swede. In Sweden, kaka means cake. Or imagine that I go to your house and you say to me, “Leave your shoes on the mats.” I will assume you want me to wipe my feet on the doormats you have by the door. Say the same thing to a Latvian, and see what kind of response you get. In Latvia, “mats” means hair. In Estonia, “mats” refers to a bumkin. Try wiping your shoes on a Latvians head and see what happens.

How do know what words mean? Have you ever thought about it? I can point at this item with onionskin thin pages and tiny print and say it’s a Bible. You all understand what I mean. But how? Some researchers say that words gain their meaning from relationships. To say “good morning” gains meaning from a relationship called a greeting. Each person takes a turn. There is typically an exchange of mutual glances or gestures and there are only a limited number of moves I can make after you say good morning to me. I can say “good morning,” or “how are you.” But you might consider it out of place if you said “good morning” and I responded by screaming or cuffing you in the head. And the words “good morning” don’t really mean anything outside of the act of greeting. If we are having an argument about immigration and I suddenly say, “good morning,” you might be puzzled. Words, then, gain their meaning through cultural understandings of reality.

So, if language portrays different understandings of reality, then how do we know the truth? How can we tell the difference between words that are true and words that are misleading? Truth telling is like playing a very specific game. When we engage in actions like describing, theorizing, or explaining, we follow specific rules that count as a proper description. Imagine a witness in court being sworn in to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. The witness is then asked by a lawyer, “What happened this morning.” The witness is not allowed to just say anything, or to shout and jump up and down and start singing Swing Lo Sweet Chariot. We judge the words by how they function as truth-telling within the rules of the legal justice system.

If we take a word out of its context and place it within another, we call it a metaphor. The world is his oyster. Life is a bowl of cherries. The three-legged stool of social security. We don’t take these words literally, but they still speak truth to us. Consider what happens when disagreements turn into arguments. The experience is unpleasant. Voices are raised. Insults are exchanged. Instead of resolution, there is hatred. These outcomes can be tracked back to the metaphors we use to talk about argument. We says things like:
· Your claims are indefensible.
· I attacked every weak point in his argument.
· Her criticisms were right on target.
· He demolished her case.
· I’ve never won an argument with her.
· He shot down all my opinions.
In each of these statements, arguing is equated with war. Our words speak a certain truth that is appropriate to our culture. Win or lose. Kill or be destroyed. What would happen if we shifted the metaphor? What if we thought about arguing as a dance, or as space exploration? We might think of arguing as navigating towards resolution, or as a pirouette of ideas.

We set up these either/or situations with our words. Something is either true or false. Male or female. Free will or God’s will. Literal or Metaphor. All or Nothing. We often fail, however, to ask the deeper question: What kinds of people, institutions, laws, or faiths are favored when we speak in one set of terms as opposed to another? What ways of life are highlighted, and what ways of life are suppressed or destroyed?

In today’s reading, Peter makes a similar mistake. Peter gets an A on the first question of his test from Jesus. Jesus is the Messiah, God's anointed. The problem is that Peter is a victim of all-or-nothing thinking. Since Jesus is God's Messiah, God’s anointed savior, Peter assumes that Jesus is going to bring down Rome and marshal in the political salvation of Israel. Dying on a cross does not fit into that picture.

Jesus then uses a metaphor. He says to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan.” Let’s not be so hard on Peter. When he calls Jesus the Messiah, he speaks truth. He follows the rules of his time and culture about who the Messiah is and what he will do. He doesn’t understand that Jesus the Messiah works in opposition to the prevailing values, assumptions, and goals of the culture. Impetuous Peter is quick to blurt out that Jesus is the Messiah. It’s a good first step, but Jesus changes the rules of the game. This Messiah will suffer, and be killed, and rise on the third day. Peter thinks about God with the metaphor of power. Jesus thinks of the Messiah through the metaphor of a suffering servant. And all who come after Jesus must also take up crosses instead of weapons of power, and follow the suffering Messiah in order to find their lives.

What would you say to Jesus if he asked you the questions he asked Peter. “Who do you say I am?” Let’s think about some of the metaphors we use in our culture. For some people, God is the resident policeman, ready to pounce on you every time you do something wrong. As an old George Jones song says, “God’s gonna get’cha for that. There’s no place to run and hide, ‘cuz he knows where you’re at.”

Some people compare God to a wise old grandparent who is revered but hardly aware of the complexities and problems of life today. Author David Sedaris writes about his experience with his great grandmother – an old-school Greek Orthodox women dressed in black, burning incense, and referred to as YaYa. YaYa’s health fails, so the family reluctantly moves her into the family home. Sedaris writes:
My brother and I came to view our YaYa as a primitive version of an ATM machine. She was always good for a dollar or two, and because we were boys, all we had to do was open her car door or inform her the incense had just set fire to one of he embroidered cushions. I saw her as a benign ghost, silent and invisible until you needed a little spending money. One could always change the channel while YaYa was watching TV there was no need to ever ask. She could go from the Sate of the Union Address to a Bullwinkle cartoon without ever noticing the difference. You might sit with her in the living room, but never were you forced to get her snacks or acknowledge her in any way.
This is who God is for many people: silent and invisible but always present. Out of touch, slightly generous with a handout, but otherwise harmless and easy to ignore.

In church, we often call God Father. It is a metaphor for understanding some attributes of God. For some, this is a comforting image. For those who had bad relationships with their fathers, it’s a harder metaphor to grasp. Some people think of God as mother. But there we go again, falling into the trap of all-or-nothing thinking – coupling words together in pairings in which one has to be better than the other.

Maybe your idea God is the sentimental, meek-and-mild one who helplessly loves everyone. Some people picture a God who always lets them down. For others there is no God at all. How about you? What do you believe?

~~~~~~~~

The islands around Indonesia are the most beautiful in the world – crystalline tropical water, beautiful reefs with fish colored in every hue of the rainbow, powerful waves and tranquil bays. Tourists, surfers, and scuba divers from around the world have discovered these hidden jewels and pay lots of money to enjoy this unspoiled aquatic playground. But many of the locals won’t swim. Neither will they surf, wade, bathe, or do anything else that places their bodies near the ocean. For some, the fear of the water is so powerful that, even though they are surrounded by water and must sail in fishing boats to earn a living, many of the islanders have not learned how to swim. Why do they deny themselves the pleasure of exploring the natural wonders all around them? Because a long time ago, someone told them that the ocean was full of demons and that swimming in it would bring harm to them and their families. Many Indonesian islanders still believe it.

Just as these people miss the joy of frolicking in the surf, so there are people today who miss out on the great joy of knowing God. They believe that God is a cosmic killjoy who wants to take away their fun and make their lives dull, boring and utterly miserable. Nothing could be farther from the truth. But our words, the words that have become culturally acceptable ways for relating to God, sometimes fail us.

God is bigger than our perceptions. When we look inside of ourselves to try to understand God, we say, “God, you must only exist in the ways that I see, or hear, or touch, or feel you. I only know you through MY form of worship, MY style of prayer. MY views are the only correct ways to understand you.” The God-of-my-knowledge is not really God at all. I often hear people say that we put God in a box. We put boundaries around God and only allow God to respond in predictable ways. But I think it’s the other way around. We put ourselves in a box, closing out ears when the God of the universe speaks our name, closing our eyes surprises acts, numbing our senses to God’s all-embracing love.

We glimpse more of the true character of God when we focus on following Jesus, the suffering Christ. When we focus on yielding our lives to Christ, we discover one who shakes loose all the incomplete images of God we have cherished. Through Christ we can begin to understand that God is not impersonal and indifferent, but a living, personal being who is active and interested in creation at all times. God is not weak, ineffective, or petty, like our own relationships can sometimes be. God relates to us, and in the relationship, we discover truth. God shows gentleness, tenderness, sympathy, patience, and compassion. And God is overwhelmingly majestic in greatness.

Who do you say Jesus is? And what does Jesus tell you about God? Is he completely human or completely divine? Savior or moral teacher? Judge or friend? Son of God or son of man? Historical figure or mythological character? All or nothing? How about this for an answer: For once, let’s just keep quiet. Instead of the insistence of our words, let’s take some time to listen to what God has to say. We might just see the tiny God of our words evaporate, and we’ll be left in the presence of a mystery we will never fathom or control. We might even sense the loving and broken hearted at the center of things. We might even hear the call to pick up our crosses and follow. We might even encounter Jesus.

Sources:
Invitation to Social Constructionism by Kenneth Gergen
Your God is Too Small by J.B. Phillips
Naked by David Sedaris

Sermon for July 20, 2008

Rebuilding the Walls: The Opposition
Nehemiah 4:1-4:23

Do you remember what you were doing on December 22, 1984? In New York City it was a cold evening, a mere three days before Christmas. A man entered a subway car. He was 37 years old. Thin, almost frail. Balding and bespectacled. An electronics buff. Law abiding and timid. Certainly not the description you would give a vigilante. Certainly not the swashbuckler you would cast to play Robin Hood or the hero that you would hire to portray the Lone Ranger. But that didn’t bother the American public when this timid man’s story came out.

The unassertive passenger sat down next to four youths. They were a somewhat boisterous group, and the 15 or 20 other passengers moved to the other end of the subway car. One of the four, Troy Canty, asked Bernhard Goetz how he was doing. Then, brandishing sharpened screwdrivers, the teens threateningly encircled Goetz and ‘asked’ him for five dollars. Goetz took out a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver and fired four shots at each of the four youths. He walked over to one of the youths who was seated next to the conductors cab and said “You seem to be all right; here’s another” and fired a fifth shot into his body. The youth, Darrel Cabey was turned away from Goetz and the bullet entered his left backside, severing his spinal cord. A passenger pulled the emergency cord. The train screeched to a halt and many of the passengers fled onto the tracks. A conductor approached Goetz and asked if he was a cop. When it became apparent that he was not, the conductor asked him for his gun. Goetz refused to hand it over, walked quietly to the front of the car and out the door. He jumped to the tracks below and disappeared into the dark of the subway tunnel. Three of the young kids lay bleeding on the floor of the train and Darrel Cabey sat wounded and paralyzed in the end seat.

Ray Kerrison, of the New York Post, wrote, “By their own admission [the teens] singled him out because he looked like the weakest target on the car. The total thug mentality -- hit the most helpless . . . So the play was four brutes against one sap -- or so they thought -- and if anyone doubts the potential violence these robbers could have inflicted on Goetz, they have only to study their subsequent criminal careers.”

About a week later Goetz walked into a police station in Concord, New Hampshire and gave himself up. He was turned over to New York authorities on January 3, 1985. Goetz instantly became a hero. A popular actress sent him a “love and kisses” telegram. “Thug-buster” T-shirts began to appear on the streets of New York City. A rock group wrote a song in his honor. People gave money to go toward his defense. Goetz was acquitted by a jury of all counts of murder, and was only found guilty of endangerment. Radio talk shows were deluged with callers. One radio host said, “They won’t let it go.” It’s not hard to see why.

Bernhard Goetz was an American fantasy come true. He did what every citizen wants to do. He fought back. He kicked the bully in the shins. He punched the villain in the nose. He clobbered the evil one over the head. This unassuming hero embodied nationwide anger, a passion for revenge. The outpouring of support gives clear evidence. Not much has changed. People are mad. People are angry. There is a growing, pent-up boiling rage that causes us to fondly remember the man who says, “I ain’t takin’ it no more!” and then comes out with a smoking pistol in each hand.

We’re tired of being bullied. We are sick of being intimidated by others. We’re angry at someone, but we don’t know who. We’re scared of something but we don’t know what. We want to fight back, but we don’t know how. So, when a modern day Wyatt Earp walks on the scene, we applaud him. He is speaking for us. “Way to go, Thug-buster. That’s the way to do it!”
Or is it? Is that really the way to do it?

An interesting side note to the story. In 1996, 12 years after the shootings, while OJ was filling the airwaves with the trial of the century, Goetz was sued by the paralyzed Darell Cabey in a civil suit. Goetz was found liable and ordered by the court to pay $4.3 million.

Let’s think about anger for a moment. Anger is a peculiar and predictable emotion. It begins as a drop of water–an irritant. A frustration. Nothing big, just an aggravation. Someone gets your parking space. Someone cuts you off. A waitress is slow when you are in a hurry. The toast burns. Yet, get enough of these innocent drops of anger and before long you’ve got a bucket full of rage. Walking revenge. Blind bitterness. We trust no one, and bare our teeth at anyone who gets near. Many become walking time bombs, ready to explode.

Now, is that any way to live? What good has hatred ever brought? What hope has anger ever created? What problems have ever been solved by revenge?

I would like to ask that to the enemies of Nehemiah in chapter 4.When Nehemiah arrives in Jerusalem in chapter 2, a man named Sanballat isn’t very happy. Initially Sanballat’s emotional discomfort with Nehemiah seems to be a minor irritation. He doesn’t really take Nehemiah’s presence very seriously. After all, what could one man do, even with the king’s approval? But once Nehemiah begins to rally the Jews, and pick up and rebuild the broken walls of Jerusalem, Sanballat’s displeasure intensifies. What was once a drop of minor irritation becomes a bucket full of hatred against this perceived threat to the security of the region. Sanballat, a leader in neighboring Samaria, feels like his power is slipping away from him. His reaction is a blend of fear and anger, with a tinge of insecurity. His report to his associates may have sounded something like this:

Nehemiah is a man to be reckoned with. He’s no fool. Under his leadership, these Jews are really serious about rebuilding the walls. They’re not as feeble as we think. They’re actually planning to restore Jerusalem and live in it, and they’re not wasting any time. They plan to complete the task as soon as possible, actually rebuilding it from dusty rubble. If they succeed, they will threaten our whole economy.

Sanballat’s angry opposition is popular with his friends. They get ready to attack and eliminate the threat. By the way, take note, this is neither the first nor the last time a group will try to eliminate the Jews from the Promised Land..

Nehemiah’s response to opposition is unexpected. Before anything else, Nehemiah goes to God. He prays. He aligns himself with the will of God. He refuses to drink from the cup of revenge. He will not be filled with bitterness and malice. No, Nehemiah prays. Then he rallies the people to continue with the hard work and protect the city.

How do people handle opposition? Today’s Scripture gives to views. Two methods. Nehemiah faced opposition, and he ardently sought after God’s will. Sanballat also felt that he faced opposition from Nehemiah and the Jews. Sanballat faced his opposition with vengeful rhetoric and violent conspiracies.

How do you face opposition? How do you handle it when you know, without a doubt, that you have a God-sized task to accomplish and someone or something is standing in your way? I don’t know about you, but I tend to give a knee-jerk, reactive response. To my disgust, I can be a Sanballat.

So, what do we do? We can’t deny our anger exists. Neither can we deny that there are those out there who will, at all costs, resist our efforts to redeem our culture for Christ. If we are called to be the wall builders of a new generation, we go into knowing that there are those out there who will try to destroy our work. So, what do we do? How do we harness anger? Perhaps a good option is found in Luke 23:34. Here, Jesus speaks about the mob that killed him. “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Have you ever wondered how Jesus kept from retaliating? How did he keep his control? The answer lies in the second part of his statement: “for they do not know what they are doing.” Listen carefully. It’s as if Jesus saw in their faces not hatred but confusion. It’s as if he regarded them not as a militant mob of opposition, but, as he put it, “sheep without a shepherd.” And when you think about it, they were shepherdless. They didn’t have the faintest idea what they were doing. Neither did Sanballat. They were all mad at something they couldn’t see, so they took it on, of all people, God. But they didn’t know what they were doing.

And for the most part, neither do we. As much as we hate to admit it, we are still shepherdless sheep. We can’t answer our own questions about love and hurt. We can’t solve the riddle of aging. We don’t know how to heal our own bodies or how to get along without own mates. We can’t keep ourselves out of war. We can’t even keep each other fed. The point is this: uncontrolled anger, even if it seems like it’s in the public interest, won’t better our world. But, sympathetic understanding will. Once we see the world for what we are, we can help. Once we understand ourselves, we can begin to operate not from a posture of anger, but from compassion and concern. We look at the world not with bitter frowns but with extended hands. They are extended in prayer. They are extended in invitation. They are extended in peace. We realize that the lights of this world are out and a lot of people are stumbling in the darkness. So we light candles. We realize that the walls of society have collapsed and people are roaming around without boundaries. So we build walls. Instead of fighting back, we help out. We go where we are needed the most. We care for the poor. We love the less privileged, and we put away our guns.

One more story:
I remember a sunny December in Western New York. I took some members of our youth group to a place called Hope House in Buffalo. Men who have just got out of prison live at Hope house as they transition back into society. It hasn’t always been a halfway house, though. Hope House used to be a rectory where a priest lived. About 10 years ago, a priest lived in the rectory. He was known for his compassionate and loving outreach to the poor and needy of Buffalo. One night Father Bissonet heard a knock on the rectory door. He opened the door and saw two teens that he knew from the neighborhood. They were looking for food, so Father Joe Bissonet let them in. He could smell the alcohol that had saturated their systems. Before he knew it, the young men tied Father Joe up. Apparently, they didn’t intend to hurt him. They just wanted food and some money for drugs. Father Joe never resisted.

It must have happened quickly. By the end of the evening, two drunk and drugged up young men had stabbed Father Joe to death.

Today the rectory is called Hope House. It is a transitional home for men coming out of prison who are trying to pick up the fractured pieces of their lives. The room off the kitchen where Father Joe was murdered is now a chapel.

When I went there, the house was run by Sister Karen. Her hands were extended in welcome and grace. Lives were being transformed by the power of love. As she told the story of Hope House, you could sense her commitment. You could feel the love of Christ. Sister Karen was on the forefront of the non-violence movement in Buffalo. She led prayer vigils at murder scenes. She conducted anti-violence programs at schools The very room where Father Joe died is the place where nine ex-offenders joined hands with Sister Karen in prayer -- and in the midst of the prayer, lives were changed. Men were reborn and given a new chance in life.

In 2006, Sister Karen interrupted a burglary. A parolee, one of the hundreds of ex-convicts who lived at Hope House, was stealing her cell phone. The criminal heard sister Karen coming. He hid behind the door. As she entered the room, he grabbed her from behind and murdered her. The killer later confessed he put her body in the bed so it looked like she was sleeping. He then drove to a drug spot and traded the phone for a rock of crack cocaine.

Hundreds showed up to Sister Karen’s funeral. It is believed to be the biggest in Buffalo history. At the base of the altar was a dove-shaped sign. On it was a slogan Sister Karen came up with, part of a non-violence campaign she planned to launch. The sign read: "I Leave Peaceprints." She hoped it would inspire people to leave peace behind them wherever they go. Since the funeral, more than 4,000 of these signs have gone out, with more being made each day, and they've sprung like flowers on lawns across Buffalo. Rather than turn people against ex-offenders, Sister Karen's death has brought greater commitment to the work she did. Anonymous checks have come in to Bissonette House to ensure it keeps running. Volunteers have come forward and they have renewed resolve and focus, determination and forgiveness. And Sister Karen still leaves her peace prints.

Was Father Joe dumb to let those men in? I don’t know. Was Sister Karen being naive to live as the only women in a house of former inmates? I don’t want to make that judgment on your behalf. All I know is this: They looked their enemies in the face, and they said, “I love you.” They were wall builders kept on praying and working as the world worked against them. We can be, too. The choice is always before us.

Sermon for July 13, 2008

Rebuilding the Walls: The Work
Nehemiah 3:1-32
July 20, 2008

Everyone at the State University knew that Donner Hall had the best parties. All night dancing and beer guzzling attracted the largest weekend crowds by far–especially on the notorious second floor. By midnight every Friday and Saturday, the entire second floor was three inches deep in smashed beer cans and stale potato chips. And every weekend, by around 7:00 AM the next morning, all of the garbage was removed. The second floor residents assumed that the diligent and committed custodial staff came bright and early, before anyone woke up, to sweep up the mess. Early one Saturday morning, Chris, still hung over from Friday night’s party, stumbled out of his bed to head for the bathroom. Noticing a freshly vacuumed second floor, he mumbled to himself, “I guess the janitors came early again to get rid of the mess.” On reaching the bathroom, however, his nose warned him the mess was not completely eliminated. A partygoer had gotten sick on the bathroom floor, and someone was mopping it up. Chris thought, “I’m glad this janitor is doing the dirty work so we don’t have to.” At the sound of Chris’ shuffling, the supposed janitor looked up. Shocked, Chris realized that the person on the end of the mop was Marco, his next-door neighbor. “Marco, man, what are you doing?” Chris asked. Marco answered simply, “I’m cleaning up.” “Why? You weren’t even at the party last night.” Marco replied, “Because I’m a Christian.” No janitor had ever cared enough to clean up all those mornings. It had been Marco the whole time. Think about it--What kind of person scrubs another person‘s filth up off the floors? What kind of person would do that kind of secret, demeaning work? People who care deeply about others – people like parents. People like nurses. People like Christians. Here’s what I want us to consider today. Is it really the calling of the Christian to get sweaty and dirty as we work in the muck and waste of the world?

Last week I tried to make a case that we live in a regressive society. In times like ours’, there’s more anxiety in all people. Heightened anxiety stirs up chaos and irresponsibility in society. We look for the quick fix that will bring some temporary relief to the stressors of life. We become focused on taking care of ourselves more than the common good. For many, life has become a matter of survival. Because of that, I think the walls of society are caving in around us. Institutions that were once the foundation of our society, like family and church, are no longer functioning in ways that protects us. Some of our boundaries are crumbling down, leaving us wide open to danger.

A society without boundaries needs wall builders: called people who will stand up on principle and say, “We have had enough! The walls are crumbling around us, and we believe that God wants something else from us and for us”? The world needs people who will work for peace, and reconciliation, and love. Upholding these ideals has always been the church’s calling., and we have fulfilled them with varying degrees of success and failure in our history.

Today we are going to explore the work of wall building. The work of serving. How do we work in love? How can we move from mediocrity to greatness? Once we identify our core principles, how can we use them to make a difference? Let’s see what Nehemiah has to say. We were introduced to Nehemiah last week. He serves in the Persian court as the cupbearer to the King. He and his people are Jews who have been living in exile. After hearing reports on the condition of Jerusalem, Nehemiah asks the King for permission to return home. Around the year 450 BC, Nehemiah arrives in Jerusalem and begins the work of restoring Jerusalem’s walls.

It would be easy to pass over chapter 3 in Nehemiah’s wall-building journal. As a matter of fact, the chapter is boring. I can’t even read it without the fear of putting you to sleep because it’s so mundane. I printed it out in today’s bulletin. Just look at that list. It’s filled with names that are difficult to pronounce, information that seems to repeat itself, and chronology that seems meaningless. This may be the only sermon you ever hear on one the Bible’s many lists. Let’s not be too quick to disregard it, though. I think we can hear God’s voice in the Bible, even in those lists!

Nehemiah’s mission is all about doing work, and work can be mundane sometimes. Rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem was an enormous task, especially with the hostile conditions they worked under. Nehemiah rose to the occasion. He and his small band of workers must have labored night and day to put the plan into place. Hidden in this chapter are some great principles that apply to working as Christian wall builders.

PRINCIPLE #1: Get everyone in place.
Sometime today, take this passage home and make a mark every time you see the following phrases: “next to him” “next to them” “after him” or “after them”. My version records these phrases 28 times in 32 verses. Rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem didn’t just happen by a miracle from God. Everyone was strategically placed for the work ahead. Lots of careful, behind the scenes planning happened to ensure that every area of the wall had someone working there.

What a vital lesson when it comes to our own mission and ministry. If we want to be a church that is serious about loving God and loving one another, we can’t do it in a sloppy haphazard way. Outreach doesn’t just happen. It’s usually not a spontaneous effort. It means coordination and organization. Christian Education doesn’t just happen. It takes many people to carefully and prayerfully plan the next steps. If we wait for something to “just happen”, then it will never happen. When we see God at work–when we hear our calling to be the new wall builders in a crumbling society--then that’s our cue to organize for some hard work.

Thomas Berry is a professor who wrote a book called The Great Work. Berry states that our time and our generation have great work to do. He describes this work as carrying out the transformation of a civilization, overseeing “the transition from a period of human devastation of the Earth to a period when humans would be present to the planet in a mutually beneficial manner.” He calls this our “privileged moment.” To participate in it, is our moment of grace. He goes on to say that this is not a role we have chosen but rather one given to us by the “power beyond ourselves.” If we accept this great work and make fundamental changes in our lifestyles, our economic system and our political priorities, then the planet survives and flourishes. If we do not accept this great work, we risk at best an uncertain future for us, our children, our grandchildren, not to mention all the millions of God’s other beloved creatures.

I believe that the church is called to this great work. This is the church’s moment of grace. This is our privileged moment. In the face of widespread economic injustice, horrific poverty, the spread of virulent disease, serious human rights issues, our job is let rulers, and authorities, and society at large know that this great earth, this holy creation, has some problems. Thomas Berry puts it this way in his poem entitled “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front,”

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection

The first job of wall building is to get everyone in place to take hold of our privileged moment. That’s what Nehemiah did. His first act of restoration was not to go out and collect stones. The very first thing he did was to get the community together to do its great work. We see their names here in this list. The wall builders for our age will need to start the same way.

PRINCIPLE #2: Everyone is invited to be a wall builder.
Here’s another interesting fact in this list: Nehemiah was successful in getting men and women of all ages from all walks of life to participate in rebuilding the wall. There were priests, goldsmiths, perfumers, temple servants, and merchants. It was a cooperative effort. One of the verses says that Shallum, an official of Jerusalem, worked side by side with his daughters. It would be easy to miss that bit of information, but it’s significant. Whole families worked together to rebuild certain sections of the wall. Everyone was involved in its success.

Which raises the question: can one person build a wall? Can one person alone do all the work? Some try. I don’t think it’s a smart strategy. God-sized tasks take more than one person. The pastor can’t do it alone. The officers or deacons can’t do it alone. Sunday school teachers can’t do it alone. We can’t depend on the Trustees or Youth Group to do it all. Wall-building is a community effort. It takes focused, diligent labor from people of all ages, from all walks of life, with different talents and abilities, all for the common purpose of inviting others into the secure walls of community.

Charles Osgood tells the story of two ladies who lived in a convalescent center. Each had suffered an incapacitating stroke. Margaret’s stroke left her left side restricted, while Edna’s stroke damaged her right side. Both of these ladies were accomplished pianists but had given up hope of ever playing again. The director of the center sat them down at a piano and encouraged them to play solo pieces together. They did, and a beautiful friendship developed.
We need to work together! What one member cannot do alone, perhaps two or more could do together—in harmony.


PRINCIPLE #3:There are many ways to get people to work, but mutual encouragement is the best motivation

A ten-year-old boy was failing math. His parents tried everything, but to no avail. Finally, at the insistence of a family friend, they decided to enroll their son in a private Catholic school. After the first day, the boy’s parents were surprised when he walked in after school with a stern, focused and very determined expression on his face, and went right past them straight to his room, where he quietly closed the door. For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room - with math books strewn about his desk and the surrounding floor. He emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning his plate, went straight back to his room, closed the door, and worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime. This pattern continued ceaselessly until it was time for the first quarter report card. The boy walked in with his report card—unopened—laid it on the dinner table and went straight to his room. cautiously, his mother opened it, and to her amazement, she saw a bright red “A” under the subject of MATH. Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son’s room, thrilled at his remarkable progress. “Was it the nuns that did it?”, the father asked. The boy only shook his head and said, “No.” “Was it the one-on-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring?” “No.” “The textbooks? The teachers? The curriculum?” “Nope,” said the son. “On that first day, when I walked in the front door and saw that guy they nailed to the ‘plus sign,’ I just knew they meant business!”

People will always work out of fear or guilt, but it’s not a good motivator. The best motivation is when we can truly encourage one another in love. It’s interesting that Nehemiah mentions 75 people by name and, in many instances, recognizes their accomplishments. He also mentions at least fifteen groups of people. Nehemiah was a hero-maker. He knew who worked, and what they accomplished. He praised others as a way to motivate them to do their best. Wouldn’t it be great if we all could put an end to guilt trips and manipulation, and instead we all encouraged each other to be Christ’s servants?

Lee Iacocca once asked legendary football coach Vince Lombardi what it took to make a winning team. The book Iacocca records Lombardi’s answer: There are a lot of coaches with good ball clubs who know the fundamentals and have plenty of discipline but still don’t win the game. Then you come to the third ingredient: if your going to play together as a team, you’ve got to care for one another. You’ve got to love each other. Each player has to be thinking about the next guy and saying to himself: If I don’t block that man, Paul is going to get his legs broken. I have to do my job well in order that he can do his. The difference between mediocrity and greatness is the feeling these guys have for each other.”

In other words, love, support, and mutual encouragement are the best motivation to get hard work done.

Wall building is hard work. It takes vision and patience. It requires sweat and frustration. But here’s one more principle. Nobody else is going to do the churches job. Nobody else is going to start picking up the pieces of society and building walls that invite people into the secure and safe arms of Christ. It’s the church’s job. May we cast aside our anxiety and insecurity, our fears and even our apathy, and start building the doing the work to which God calls us.

Sermon for July 6, 2008

Rebuilding the Walls: Our Calling
Nehemiah 1:1-11; 2:1-10

It is an understatement to say that we live in troubled times. It’s not like “the good old days,” anymore, is it? We hear people say this a lot, but is it true? In 1940 the teachers in California were polled to find out what they considered to be the most troublesome problems they faced. The results were: Talking, chewing gum, making noise, running in the halls, getting out of line, wearing improper clothing, and not putting paper in the wastebasket. In 1990, fifty years alter, the teachers were polled again. This time their answers were quite different: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, pregnancy, suicide, rape, robbery, and assault. Our society has changed as great deal of our schools are any indication.

Within two generations, it has become dangerous for anyone to be on many of our city streets alone. Young children must always be supervised. Security measures are commonplace in schools. Children are in contact with illegal drugs at younger and younger ages. Sexual impulses are indulged rather than respected. Recent studies only verify our fears. Consider that between 1963 and 1993 the crime rate went up 360%, youth crime is up 200%, teen pregnancy is up 600% and teen suicide is up 300% -- it is now the second leading cause of death in teens after accidents. SAT scores are down 7% and drug use is up over 1000%.

What is going on here?

Some people have termed what’s going on as “societal regression.” It means that society is more or less anxious, and orderly at different times in history. At certain times, there’s more anxiety in all people, which in turn raises chaos and irresponsibility in society. It even happens in non-human societies. John Calhoun studied rats at the National Institutes of Health. He noticed that when the population grew beyond a certain point and became overcrowded, there were instances of abnormal behavior. Mothers forgot how to make nests. Males gave up their nest guarding behavior and sat on the sidelines staring. Calhoun named them the barflies. The same forces affect human institutions. For instance, institutions like churches or families become less stable. They are more subject to breakdowns and reorganizations, which contributes to more problems in society. And they more troubled society and it’s institutions become, the more anxiety it’s members respond to. It is a brutal cycle. When we are under stress, it is hard to think clearly and to live according to principle-centered decisions that guide our behavior. We have become a reactive society. We look for the quick fix that will bring some temporary relief to the stressors of life. We become focused on taking care of ourselves. For many, life has become a matter of survival.

I think the walls of society are caving in around us. Think about walls. They define our space. They give us security. In the Bible, strong, fortified walls are a visible sign of God’s blessing. On the other hand, lack of self-control, like what we see in our own times, is like a broken wall. Proverbs 25:28 says, “A person without self- control is like a city broken into and left without walls.” The person, or the society, without boundaries is left wide open to danger. And while walls can be used to keep others away from us, walls are also a symbol of salvation. Just as a wall could provide literal salvation for the people living inside of them, so also the Lord’s salvation protects his people.

What would it take to be a church of people who rebuilds the walls around us? Who is God calling us to be? What would we have to do to make this a place where people can find security, and refreshment, and salvation? Think about that as I tell you about Billy and his parents.

When Billy was about 6, he drew his first picture on the bedroom wall. The mother, torn between wanting her child to express himself and wanting her wall to be clean, decided to let him be. As his hand grew steadier, however, Billy’s mother noticed that most of his drawings had something in common–all his figures were lying down. What could it mean? Should she ask him? She thought it best to wait, but she couldn’t resist. “Billy, I noticed that in all your pictures you always draw everyone lying down.”

“Yes mother,” said Billy, and he went on drawing. The mother was so upset by the sureness of the answer, as well as his indifference, that she just dropped the subject and left the room.

After a month or so, Billy’s artistry improved, and the mother noticed something else in her son’s drawings. Not only were the people lying down, but they also appeared to be hurt. They eyes were always closed, and their positions seemed to indicate they were dead. Her husband agreed. Each figure the son drew showed little life, with ribbons of red color suggesting gushing blood. Was the son depressed? Perhaps he was angry. Were they not good to him? Had they unknowingly favored his sister? Had they failed to give him the chance to express his feelings? Should they consult a professional? All of the sudden it felt as if their family was beginning to fall apart. The parent’s decided not to ask Billy, and spent a sleepless night in bed.

The next morning, father walked into Billy’s room with all the naturalness he could muster. “Billy, it seems to me that in each of your drawings, people are not only lying down, but they also seem to be in pain. Is this how you mean it?”

“Yes father,” said Billy, and he said no more.

“Well,” said father, trying hard to be relaxed, “what’s the reason for that?”

“That’s just the way I think them up,” said Billy, who continued to play with his toys.

For the next year, Billy’s artwork became more sophisticated. He drew figures run over by cars, hit in the head by rocks, stabbed, and even shot. His parents held their breath. However, just around when Billy turned 7, mother noticed that the people in Billy’s drawings were no longer whole. Limbs were missing. The pictures were disturbingly gory. This was too much. Something sinister was clearly at work in her son’s head. They also discovered that Billy had torn his toys to pieces. Soldiers were missing arms and legs, a doll had its eyes ripped out. That did it. Billy’s parent’s stumbled over one another to reach the phone. They found a specialist in children’s problems and made the earliest possible appointment. At the appointment Billy was brought into a separate room and asked, “Do you like to draw?”

“Oh yes,” said Billy. He was given paper and crayons, and told to draw to his hearts content. The specialist said he would be back in a moment. The specialist then left and joined the parents in an adjoining room equipped with a one-way mirror. Immediately Billy set about drawing his people–lying down, scenes of violence, severed bodies.

“See,” said his frightened parents, “It’s just what we told you. Most alarming was the matter-of-factness about the boy, the total absence of feeling . The specialist re-entered the room where Billy was drawing and skillfully engaged him in harmless talk about his drawing. But he couldn’t get below the surface. He took a new tack.

“Billy, do you know what you want to be when you grown up.”

‘For the first time, Billy showed some glee. “Oh yes,” he said.

Sensing success, the specialist pursued the questioning. “I’m glad to see you get excited. You know, your parents are afraid that you are a very angry child.”

“Angry,” said Billy, “why should I be angry? They are so nice to me. The only thing that would make me angry, is if they would not let me be what I want to be when I grow up.”

“And what is that?” the man asked, anxiously.

“A doctor!” shouted Billy, as he examined his picture.

In when our anxiety is the highest, when the walls seem to be caving in around us, God always has wall-builders. They are people of vision. They are people who can connect with their calling in the midst of troubled times. They are people who are misunderstood. They expose our insecurities as they invite us to live within the walls of salvation. Billy is one of those people. Nehemiah is another.

During the Jewish exile in Babylon, Nehemiah is a Jew who holds a position of honor in the Babylonian king’s court. He serves as the king’s personal cup bearer–the man who tasted the king’s wine and guarded his sleeping quarters. Nehemiah hears news about the dilapidated walls and gates that encircle Jerusalem. The sign of the city’s strength lay in shambles. Nehemiah enters a deep depression. He performs his usual duties for the king, but there’s something different about his face. The king senses something wrong and asks, “Why are you so sad?” Now you have to understand, it was against the law for a servant to show sadness in the king’s presence. Nehemiah could have been severely punished for demonstrating anything but joy while on duty. Nehemiah knows the risk, but he has no choice. He knows God’s call. With all the trust and bravery he can muster, he asks to be sent back to his people to rebuild the walls of the city. Nehemiah risks everything to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem for his people. Nehemiah has a purpose, a strong identity with his people, and the ability to stay strong in the face of opposition. But look at how Nehemiah moved from anxiety to security.

1. Prayer. Nehemiah demonstrates that in moments of pain and helplessness, there is access to the power of God through prayer. In fact, Nehemiah prayed for four months before approaching the king.

2. Preparing for the task. Nehemiah not only prayed, but he used all of the human resources that were available. Intellectual skill. Human experiences. Accumulated wisdom. His position of power with the king. He blended both divine and human resources to accomplish his goal.

3. Principle-centered leadership. No matter what was happening around him, no matter how stressful, Nehemiah made rational decisions, steeped in prayer and based on his own inner guidance system. He’s not willing to ignore or sugar-coat the problems. He wouldn’t go for the quick fix or cave into the thinking of others around him. His work was guided by his principles.

Who are the wall builders today? In a regressive society, who is going to stand up and prayerfully say, “It is time to shore up the walls again” ? Who will find ways to non-anxiously supply the bricks and mortar we need to rebuild safe places for our people? Who will stand up on principle and say, “We have had enough! The walls are crumbling around us, and we believe that God wants something else from us and for us”? Could it be that God is calling us, the Trumbull Congregational Church to be part of his wall-building?

We don’t have to look far to see it Crumbling walls exist. Better ones need to be built. With God’s help, we can turn barriers of hostility into walls of peace. We can tear down fences of fear into surround ourselves with walls of salvation. We can level walls of promiscuity into build walls that protect and connect us to one another within the safe confines of love. Walls of separation become walls of community. Who are those wall builders? I think we are.

In the weeks ahead, we are going to follow Nehemiah as he guides us through the process of wall-building. I think God is doing great things among us. I sense God inviting us to join in doing something awesome. It is our God sized task. It is our mission. It is our call.

Sermon for June 15, 2008

The World Needs our Feet
Romans 10:9-15

Here are some of my favorite bumper stickers . . .
· I’m not gaining weight, I’m retaining food!.
· I brake for no apparent reason.
· Forget about World Peace. Visualize using your turn signal.
· He who laughs last, thinks slowest.
· Lottery: A tax on people who are bad at math.
· Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
· I love cats...they taste just like chicken.
· The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.
· Sometimes I wake up grumpy; other times I let him sleep.
· Work is for people who don’t know how to fish.
· Hard work pays off in the future. But laziness pays off right now.
· It’s lonely at the top, but you eat better.
· Always remember you’re unique, just like everyone else.
· There are 3 kinds of people: those who can count & those who can’t.
· Why is “abbreviation” such a long word?
· Bumper Stickers Solve Nothing

Some bumper stickers are funny, some are informative, some make you think, others make you mad. In any case, they’re usually a reflection of direction the person in life is traveling. When it comes to bumper stickers, the words on the outside of a car are often an indicator of the kind of person on the inside of the car. In the same way, the words that come out of our mouths are often an indicator of what kind of person we are in the inside.

From the Bible’s point of view, our feet are the indicators of what we believe. I know it sounds weird, but listen to how the Apostle Paul puts it in the book of Romans.

The world needs our feet. Now I need to tell you, I’m surprised I’m even saying this to you, because I think feet are disgusting. I definitely have a foot hang up–a piece of information, which, is probably more than you wanted to know about me. I can think of several words to describe these appendages on the ends of my legs. The words ugly, hairy, smelly and grungy are a few that I would choose. But despite their flaws, the world needs our feet.

Paul is quite clear on this in Romans.
“ . . . how can they call on him to save them unless they believe in him? And how can they believe in him if they have never heard about him? And how can they hear about him unless someone tells them? And how will anyone go and tell them without being sent?”

Our feet to carry us to the grieving and hurting, the needy and lonely, the friendless, the blind and the prisoners, the poor and oppressed, and those who do not know Jesus Christ. Our feet bring us into contact with those who need to know how God’s grace and our faith can make a difference in life. So, the world needs our feet. There are, however, some problems with this. First and foremost, I don’t want to my feet to bring me into contact with friendless-the blind the prisoners, the poor and oppressed and those who do not know Jesus Christ. I would rather my feet bring me to my comfy chair while I relax and read a good book. I would rather have my feet bring me somewhere where I don’t have to think about the pain and suffering in the world. Life is easier if I let my feet lead me to places where I can deny the reality the world is filled with pain.

And anyway, if I were to go to the suffering and poor in spirit, I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know what to say. How is little ol’ me going to make a difference?

And there’s another problem --The term “congregational evangelist” sounds like an contradiction. Maybe we should let the Baptists, Nazarenes and Pentacostals put the gospel shoes on their feet. Anyway, if God has already predestined everything, as our Puritan ancestors taught, it doesn’t really matter, does it?

There is one more problem -- people are not going to automatically call on God. Someone needs to go and someone needs to talk. In fact, not just anyone–WE need to go. As Paul says, quoting Isaiah:

That is what the Scriptures mean when they say, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

Isaiah actually writes this:

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’” (Isa. 52:7, NIV)

Did you get that. God can take these obscene feet of mine and make them beautiful.
How, exactly, is God going to make my feet . . . beautiful?

It’s important to understand that in Biblical times they didn’t have email or fax machines or phones. So in order for leaders to relay messages to their hearers they sent messengers. Often times the messenger would travel by foot for miles to get the message to his hearer. The ancient Greek myth of Phidippides is an example. In 490 B.C. Persia’s fleet of 600 ships loomed off the Greek Shores not far from Athens. According to legend, the general of the Athenian troops sent his fastest runner, Phidippides to ask for help from Sparta. Phidippides ran for two days and two nights to reach Sparta, about 140 miles away. He gave the message to the Spartans. The Spartans agreed to send troops, but not until after their religious festival was completed in nine days. Phidippides ran back to Athens, but the general couldn’t wait that long, so he ordered his troops to advance on the Persians. The Persian army was no match for the Athenians and 6,400 Persians were slain. The general then ordered Phidippides back to Marathon to spread the good news. The distance between marathon and Athens was approximately 25 miles. Phidippides made the distance, managed to gasp “Rejoice!” before he collapsed and died. That reminds me of another bumper sticker: “Walk, don’t run.”

You can imagine what people and communities would be thinking when word got out a messenger was bringing word to them? Their hearts would pound not knowing if the news was going to be tragic or good. When the news was good, the messenger became the most popular person around. People would say the messenger’s feet were beautiful. Now the word beautiful here does not mean lovely in appearance—thank goodness. It means “in time” or “timely”. It was as if the people were saying, “your feet brought you just when I needed to hear something good.”

There are people all around us in desperate need of some Good News. They are going through a trying time. They don’t need to hear “suck it up” or “hang in there” or “our church has great music.” They need to hear Good News. Jesus loves us and cares for us. Sin and death are defeated, and we can be right with God. As much as I resist going to those tough places, I love it when I hear someone say, “Your feet brought you just when I needed to hear something good.” Where our feet bring us shows the condition of our heart. How you walk and where you walk to is an indication of the health of your relationship with God.

Remember those words from Proverbs 6 that we just heard? Listen again for talks of feet and words. “Here are six things God hates, and one more that he loathes with a passion:
eyes that are arrogant, a tongue that lies, hands that murder the innocent, a heart that hatches evil plots, feet that race down a wicked track, a mouth that lies under oath, a troublemaker in the family.” In fact, your walk a sign of your faith. Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). The apostle Paul reminds to walk by faith instead of sight (2 Cor. 5:7). In other words, the desires of our hearts, the words of our mouths, and out feet are all connected. Our heart gives us the will to go. Our feet respond and bring us. And our mouths speak the Good News. An active heart leads to an active mouth, which also shows itself in active feet. And active feet are beautiful to God. Or, to quote another bumper sticker:

Dance With Your Heart and Your Feet Will Follow!

When is the last time someone said to you, “Your feet are Beautiful”? What are you doing to bring Good News to the people around you in your daily life?


I find that there is a prayer that God always answers. I will say, “God, lead me to someone who needs to know your love today.” I have prayed that prayer, and then promptly forgotten what I said. At some point in the day, usually my most hectic day, someone will call – someone who us hurting and needs help. At that point I have a decision, be patient with the interruption and take time to listen, or brush the person off. Even before I became a minister, I would pray, “God, lead me to someone who needs to know your love today,” and people would bare their souls to me in the strangest of places. Once I was in a restaurant, ready to order my dinner. The server came and said, “Hi, I’m Ashley. How are you all?” “Fine, how are you?” I asked. I didn’t really mean it. It’s just what you say, right? Before I knew what was happening, Ashley was sitting in our booth, telling my family and me about all her problems at work. I’m thinking to myself, “Can I just order my pizza now?” But I prayed that God would help me walk to the places and people who need to know God’s love. I have had the same thing happen at the grocery store check out line and school events. It even happened on my honeymoon. Chris and I became acquainted with an older couple who were vacationing in Bermuda at the same place we were staying. From our perspective, it was a superficial relationship – small talk and shallow chat. Somehow, weeks after we went our separate ways, the wife of the other couple tracked us down and called us to tell us how bad her life had become. I was not a minister. I was not even in seminary. Chris and I were just out of college. We just showed some compassion – the ability to listen, and the willingness to stay put so that we could listen and respond with love.

I must admit, I am not always proud of where my feet take me. At times, my feet and I have chosen the path not lit by the Word of God. I also suspect I have not always been in the position of passionately listening at the Savior's feet. Nor have I always humbled myself to others, failing to wash their feet with love and service. However, my prayer is that I can be described as follows:

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.”’

I would be thrilled people thought of me and said, “Matt is a man with beautiful feet.”

How beautiful are your feet?

Sermon for Sunday June 1, 2008

Come to Me
Song of Songs 2:8-13; Matthew 11:25-3

Tennessee Williams tells a story about Jacob Brodzky, a shy Russian Jew whose father owned a bookstore. The older Brodzky wanted his son to go to college. Jacob, on the other hand, desired nothing but to marry Lila, his childhood sweetheart -- a French girl as breezy, vital, and ambitious as he was quiet and retiring. A couple of months after Jacob went to college, his father fell ill and died. Jacob returned home, buried his father, and married his love. Then the couple moved into the apartment above the bookstore, and Jacob took over the business. The life of books fit him perfectly, but it cramped her. She wanted more adventure. She eventually met a talent agent who praised her beautiful singing voice and enticed her to tour Europe with a vaudeville company. Jacob was devastated. At their parting, he reached into his pocket and handed her the key to the front door of the bookstore.

“You had better keep this,” he told her. “You will want it some day. Your love is not so much less than mine that you can get away from it. You will come back sometime, and I will be waiting.” She kissed him and left. To escape the pain he felt, Jacob withdrew deep into his bookstore and took to reading as someone else might take to drink. He spoke little, did little, and most times sat at the large desk near the rear of the shop, immersed in his books while he waited for his love to return.

Nearly 15 years after they parted, Lila came back to the bookstore. But when Jacob rose from the reading desk he did not recognize the love of his life. “Do you want a book?” he asked. Lila was startled, but she gained possession of herself and replied, “I want a book, but I’ve forgotten the name of it.” Then she told him a story of childhood sweethearts. A story of a newly married couple who lived in an apartment above a bookstore. A story of a young, ambitious wife who left to seek a career, who enjoyed great success but could never relinquish the key her husband gave her when they parted. She told him the story she thought would bring him to himself. But Jacob’s face showed no recognition. He had lost touch with his heart’s desire. He no longer knew the purpose of his waiting and grieving, that now all he remembered was the waiting and grieving itself. She cried out, “You remember it; you must remember it -- the story of Lila and Jacob?” After a long, bewildered pause, he said, “There is something familiar about the story, I think I have read it somewhere. It comes to me that it is something by Tolstoy.” Dropping the key, she fled the shop. Jacob returned to his desk, to his reading, unaware that the love he waited for had come and gone.

How easy it is to miss love when it comes. Either something so distracts us or we have so completely lost who we are and what we care about that we cannot recognize our heart’s desire.

I want you to think about the person sitting to your right and your left. Think about the person who is sitting in front of you and behind you. Think about your family and your friends. Now think about the handful of people whom drive you crazy. I’m going to tell you something about them – each and every one of those people, you and me included, aches to be loved. In a world that seems plagued by an epidemic of emotional pain, it’s not surprising that we are a culture infatuated with love. Most people will go to great extremes to feel loved. Romantic fantasies . . . casual one-night-stands . . . we’ll spend billions of dollars on how-to-books and online friendships, pills and powders, make-up and seductive clothes. But none of these seem to secure the kind of love that will fill the empty, lonely spot inside that waits for someone – anyone – to accept and passionately love the real me.

I’ve met people who live their lives believing that there is no one there for them. They think, “Nobody understands me. Nobody cares about my pain. No one cares if I live of die.” Even in marriages, it’s easy to feel that one’s spouse no longer understands. I read a story about a couple named Mark and Beth. When they were young, they fell in love. Their eyes sparkled and their steps were light. They felt that unique, special attraction for each other. They got married, believing that they would forever supply each other with a permanent sense of self-worth. But, as time went on, Mark expected Beth to always be as loving and accepting and forgiving as she was when they were dating. Beth expected the same from Mark. They began to feel disillusioned, even betrayed by one another. As the years passed, affirmation was replaced by sarcasm and ridicule. They each expected unconditional love and acceptance from the other, and each failure to do so was another brick in the wall between them. Mark and Beth recently celebrated their 10th wedding anniversary. Although they shared ten years together, they experienced very little real love. Unfortunately, not even marriage guarantees that our need to be loved will be fulfilled.

So here we sit today, frustrated lovers, wanting to be understood but feeling alone. We want to love and be loved, but we feel incompetent, inadequate and insecure. Some of us try to compensate. Some will tell themselves. “If I can only do something to make myself more likeable or desirable . . . if only I can be successful . . . if only I can make myself more beautiful . . . if only I try harder or put more effort in . . . THEN all my problems will be solved.”

The truth is hard to accept. We will never be loved by doing more. We will not be loved if we stumble upon the correct formula of things to say, do and wear. Here’s the truth: you are already loved. Someone already who knows you and understands you. Someone already sees you– shortcomings and insecurities included – and still loves you. You are loved by God. God’s just nuts about you. God pursues you and calls out to you and God will do anything it takes to draw you into a love relationship. All God asks is for us to trust that real love can be life-changing and real. God wants us to throw off the bonds of insecurity and hear words of love: “Arise my beautiful one and come with me. See! Winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on earth, the season for singing has come. Arise, come my darling, my beautiful one, come with me.”

Like our human relationships, we think we have to do something to earn or deserve God’s love. Many people feel useless or worthless is we are not busy doing something. But God has already given his love to you as a gift. You don’t pay someone back for a gift. You just receive it – otherwise it’s not a gift anymore. There is no work of effort involved. God is passionately, intimately, breathlessly, fiercely, undeniable in love with you. God knows you. God understands you. God loves you and God wants you to arise and allow yourself to receive that love.

Here lies the beauty of the Gospel. You don’t need to carry around heavy burdens of doubt, or self-contempt-or inadequacy. Jesus says drop them and take the burden of love upon your shoulders instead. God says, “I have come to you. I sent my son in human likeness so that I may fully know you and you may fully know me. Now make good choices. Seek the highest love. Come to me and I will give you rest for your souls.” I believe right now Jesus looks at you and sees your pain. He knows the weight of your family problems. He knows what it’s like when you feel no good. Jesus understands loneliness and feeling like nobody really cares about or understands you. He experienced it all himself. And through that Jesus says, “Just leave it behind for a while. All your striving to find love and acceptance is just a distraction. They are detours which lead you farther away from God’s love.” Jesus says, “I’ll carry all those burdens and distractions for you. That’s how much I love you. Arise my beautiful one, come with me . . .”

In his book Mortal Lessons physician Richard Selzer describes a scene in a hospital room after he had performed surgery on a young woman’s face:

I stand by the bed where the young woman lies -- her face, postoperative -- her mouth twisted in palsy -- clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, one of the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be that way from now on. I had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh, I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had cut this little nerve. Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed, and together they seem to be in a world all their own in the evening lamplight -- isolated from me -- private. Who are they? I ask myself -- he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously. The young woman speaks. “Will my mouth always be like this?” she asks. “Yes,” I say, “it will. It is because the nerve was cut.” “She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles. “I like it,” he says. “It’s kind of cute.” All at once I know who he is. I understand, and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with the divine. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth, and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers -- to show her that their kiss still works.

Regardless of the scars you bear from the ravages of life, no matter how you feel about yourself at any given time, God loves you. God kissed us by giving us Jesus – by allowing his body to be twisted on a cross to show us that God’s love still works. No matter what, you are beautiful to God and he will never stop loving you.

God will never force a relationship on you that you don’t want. But I think we want it. I encourage you to find a space where you can be alone with God. I want you to sit quietly and allow the Holy Spirit to confirm this message to you. Allow God to speak words of love to you in inward stillness. Come to God saying, “O God, lover of my soul, I am yours. I belong to you and you love me as I am.” And as you listen, may the kiss of the Spirit touch you as you hear the voice of a God who is totally in love with you: Arise my beautiful one and come with me. See! Winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on earth, the season for singing has come. Arise, come my darling, my beautiful one, come with me.