Sermon for August 2, 2009

The Secret Plan
Ephesians 2:1-22
(based on a sermon at Kir Shalom: http://www.rockies.net/~spirit/sermons/b-or16su.php)


A READING FROM EPHESIANS 2:11-22
Once you were dead because of your disobedience and your many sins. 2 You used to live in sin, just like the rest of the world, obeying the devil—the commander of the powers in the unseen world. He is the spirit at work in the hearts of those who refuse to obey God. 3 All of us used to live that way, following the passionate desires and inclinations of our sinful nature. By our very nature we were subject to God’s anger, just like everyone else. 4 But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, 5 that even though we were dead because of our sins, he gave us life when he raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God’s grace that you have been saved!) 6 For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus. 7 So God can point to us in all future ages as examples of the incredible wealth of his grace and kindness toward us, as shown in all he has done for us who are united with Christ Jesus. 8 God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. 9 Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. 10 For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

11 Don’t forget that you Gentiles used to be outsiders. You were called “uncircumcised heathens” by the Jews, who were proud of their circumcision, even though it affected only their bodies and not their hearts. 12 In those days you were living apart from Christ. You were excluded from citizenship among the people of Israel, and you did not know the covenant promises God had made to them. You lived in this world without God and without hope. 13 But now you have been united with Christ Jesus. Once you were far away from God, but now you have been brought near to him through the blood of Christ. 14 For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us. 15 He did this by ending the system of law with its commandments and regulations. He made peace between Jews and Gentiles by creating in himself one new people from the two groups. 16 Together as one body, Christ reconciled both groups to God by means of his death on the cross, and our hostility toward each other was put to death.

17 He brought this Good News of peace to you Gentiles who were far away from him, and peace to the Jews who were near. 18 Now all of us can come to the Father through the same Holy Spirit because of what Christ has done for us. 19 So now you Gentiles are no longer strangers and foreigners. You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family. 20 Together, we are his house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets. And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself. 21 We are carefully joined together in him, becoming a holy temple for the Lord. 22 Through him you Gentiles are also being made part of this dwelling where God lives by his Spirit.


It happened that in a particular village there was a man who was well known for his compassion for others. He was not a particularly wealthy man, nor was he a native of the village, nor did he attend the village church. In fact he was not even baptized, and he showed little interest in changing that situation. But if a stranger came to the village and needed a place to stay, this man would offer a cot in his little home. If a village family ran out of food, he was among the first to offer a loaf of bread or some flour from his meager supplies. When the Germans or the Russians swept the village to collect young men for imprisonment or forced military enlistment, he would help hide the men in the woods outside town. The villagers loved him very much.

The man eventually died from some cause or other. The villagers prepared his body for burial and proceeded to the village church where they asked the Priest to perform the burial service in the church cemetery. The priest, who knew and loved the man as much as the rest of the villagers, agreed that he would conduct the funeral service. However, he insisted that he could not bury the man inside the church cemetery because he was not baptized. “I cannot bury him in our cemetery”, the priest said, “It is hallowed ground. He must go where the un-baptized are buried. Those are the rules of the church and I cannot change them.”

The villagers appealed earnestly to the priest, saying that the man was a good person and surely loved by God as much as any of the baptized, perhaps even more on account of all the good that he had done. The priest agreed with them regarding the virtues of the man, but insisted that the rules of the faith were clear and could be not be broken. But he did make one compromise. The priest said, “In recognition of your love for him, and his love for you and all of God’s people in this village, I will bury him on church land, near to those who have gone before. But it will have to be beyond the fence that surrounds the consecrated ground of our cemetery.”

And so it was. On the appointed day a grave was prepared just outside the fence that surrounded the church cemetery. The villagers brought the man’s body his final resting place. That night, something very beautiful happened — something that became apparent when the priest went to the church next morning to conduct morning mass. The fence that surrounded the cemetery had been moved by some of the villagers. It now surrounded the grave in which the man had been buried.

For me, this story captures something of what the good news is all about. As the villagers expanded the fence which enclosed hallowed ground to include the grave of the man whom they loved, so God, through Christ, expands the boundaries of the sacred to include both those whom the rules of our religion might exclude, and those that the ways of this world
might exclude.

Consider our every day language. How often we call others “those people”, or use the term “they” and “their kind in our conversations. We say, “Those people come over to our country and expect . . .” or, “They just don’t appreciate hard work,” or, “Their kind always have their hand out,” and so forth. “They” most often are the strangers in our midst, people from another country, with accents, a different shade of skin, different foods and religious customs, and different ways of being family. Whoever “they” are, they are different than us.

But perhaps “They” are not from another country. Perhaps “They” live right next door to us. Perhaps “They” have visited our church. Perhaps they are gay. Or on welfare. Perhaps they are conservatives, or liberals; Catholics, or fundamentalists. Maybe they are environmentalists or loggers. Perhaps they are body piercers or people who think casual is loosening one’s tie when the weather is hot.

No matter. “They” are not us. We build different kids of emotional, spiritual, and moral barriers to keep them away, or at least to keep them in their place. We are all in need of the reconciliation spoken of in today’s reading. We are all in need of a fresh look at just who we are in the eyes of God, and where we fit in the family of God.

Let’s try to get into the culture of Paul’s audience. Ephesus was a seaport trade city with a population of about 300,000. It was a center of Greco-Roman culture that hosted the Temple of Artemis -- one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. All to say, the people in this city were thoroughly Gentile. They worshiped Greek gods and adhered to Greek culture. Early Christians like Paul came to Ephesus as missionaries and established churches. And because of their ministry, some Ephesian citizens turned from their gods and their culture and put their faith in the resurrected Jesus Christ. This caused some problems. Some Jewish Christians demanded that Gentile converts must follow a certain set of rules in order to achieve favor with God. They required Gentile Christians to follow the entire Jewish law. Eat certain foods. Wear certain clothes. Be circumcised. Then you will be a true Christian. Today we call this kind of thinking legalism. Don’t swear, don’t dance, don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t lie and cheat, don’t wear immodest clothing, don’t drink coffee, don’t pierce body parts, then you will be a real Christian. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Paul always had a problem with this kind of thinking. Even though he was a Jew, Paul realized that Jesus met people where they were, in the life-situations they were in. He knew that God’s showered love upon all people through Christ. It didn’t depend on who their parents were, what they looked like, how they dressed, what they ate, or where they were born.

We still struggle with the false belief that we must meet certain standards in order to please God and feel good about ourselves. Consider these laws that people hold themselves to:

• Some people are caught under the law of church attendance. They say to themselves, “If I attend every worship service, and work diligently in the church, then God will be pleased with me. Those who do not go to church as faithfully are outsiders.”
• Some are caught in the law of morality: “If I can just behave well enough I will be acceptable to God. Those who don’t behave according to my moral standards must be changed in order to be among us.”
• Some people are captive to the law of perfectionism: “If only I can keep my house spotless, my family looking good, and my social life in order – if only I can keep tight charge over every area of my life, then God will smile upon me and I will be happy.”

In each of these situations, we try to earn find our place in God’s world be trying to attain a ridiculously high standard. We think that our happiness, freedom, and salvation depend solely upon what we can do to make our lives better. Consider the following essay, written by a student applying for admission to NYU in response to the question, “Are there any personal accomplishments or significant experiences you have had that helped define you as a person.” The student wrote:

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees. I write award-winning operas. I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing. I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook 30-minute brownies in 20 minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru. Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single -handedly defended a small village in the Amazon basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play a bluegrass cello. I was scouted by the Mets. I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I’m bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge. I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics world-wide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don’t perspire. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening, I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. When on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me. I balance, I weave, I dodge, and my bills are all paid. I participate in full contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life, but forgot to write it down. I have performed open heart surgery and I have met with Elvis, But I have not yet gone to college.

This young man went to great lengths to convince the admissions department at NYU that he was good enough for their school. This is not the Gospel we proclaim. Race, sex, culture, biblical knowledge, conservatism or liberalism, and heritage have no part in our salvation. All are chosen by God and all are loved by God.

This is God’s secret plan. We are saved by grace through faith, not by works. No more basing our worth on what we do and don’t do. No more divisions in the church based on who people are or where they come from. God has made us one by offering salvation to each and every person. For the Christian, this happens when we put our faith in Christ, and accept the free gift of God’s love. We need to look again at those we call “strangers”. We need to see them not as different from us, but as essentially the same. Paul invites us to look at ourselves and others in a different light, a light created by God.

Think of the racial, economic and social barriers that mark the terrain of our daily lives and determine with whom we see, touch and share our lives. These walls direct our footsteps, where we go and whose terrain we avoid. Think of the gender barriers between us, how we think and talk about each other; how we relate to one another at work and at home. Think of the way we classify each other at church — the liberals and conservatives, the “old timers” who built the church and the newcomers — and let go of these things.

Instead of ignoring, dismissing, or labeling people because they are different, we need to offer a space of welcome in which “They” can be themselves. Hospitality means people don’t have to conform to our ways, but that they can be themselves in our presence. It doesn’t try to change people but enables them freedom and space to change at their own pace in their own way as God leads them.

Paul says something amazing in the passage from Ephesians. We are God’s masterpiece. Do you understand that? Imagine God painting a picture. God concentrates on the canvas, adding outlines, then colors, shadows and flourishes. Finally God steps back and gazes upon a phenomenal work of art. To look at its beauty would take your breathe away. And it’s a picture of you. You are God’s work of art. God loves you. God wants you. You are God’s masterpiece, and God won’t stop cherishing you.

Now imagine taking a step back. Your picture hangs on a wall in God’s art gallery. There are more pictures next to yours. Each is an original. Each is a carefully created masterpiece. God has about 6.5 billion of these masterpieces hanging in creation’s art gallery. Have you come to a place in your life where you know you are deeply loved, fully pleasing, totally forgiven, accepted, and complete in Christ? Have you come to a place where you realize that God shares that same grace with others? No matter who we are, no matter where we are on life’s journey, we are God’s masterpieces, and we are welcome here.

Sermon for July 29, 2009

The Limits of My Love
Romans 7:14-25; Luke 10:25-37

I need to tell you something about me. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I might as well be up front with you right from the beginning. It’s a sickness, really. And as much as I hate it, I can’t do anything to cure it. I begin to feel the pains of it about five minutes after I wake up – if it’s a good day. The malady affects me throughout the entire day. Occasionally it even bothers me in my sleep. Sometimes I barely notice it. Other times I can ignore it. Most of the time I just feel numb from it. Well . . . enough stalling. What you need to know about me is that I am a sinner. It seems like the harder I try to fix it, the worse it becomes. I’ll do something that I regret, say something when I should have kept quiet, keep quiet when I should have spoken, or fail to act when I think comfort is more important than risk.

I wouldn’t ordinarily share this during on a Sunday morning, when we are all here trying to look and behave our best, but I have a wild hunch that I am not the only one suffering from the effects of this condition. In fact, I’m going to guess that some of you here today might also be fellow sinners. It’s nothing we’re proud of – we’re not bragging about it. But, for the sake of full disclosure, you should be aware that there are some sinners sitting with you in your pews today. I don’t think they’ll hurt you or anything. In fact, most prefer just to keep their sins to themselves

If you are a sinner like me, by the way, you are in good company. The Apostle Paul described our condition perfectly. He was one of us. He says that it all begins when we try to do good by following our interpretation of the Bible to the letter. We make a list of all the things we should and should not do so that God will be pleased with us. And then we begin our day checking the items off. “OK, God, today is a new day. I am not going to lie, and I’m not going to swear and drink – at least not too much. I’m going to eat well and exercise, and find some volunteer service to do. I’ll return my overdue library books, and I won’t yell at my kids when they drive me crazy. Today is the day I act like an angel.” Then what happens? As I brew my morning coffee, the kids start arguing, the dogs are barking frantically out the window at something ridiculous like a blowing leaf, then someone calls to ask if I want to re-mortgage my house, my wife and I have double-booked some meetings on the calendar, and the overdue library books are lost. Welcome to the first 20 minutes of the day. This is the point where I make my first bad choice of the day. I’ve decided to behave one way but then I do something completely different. I am resolved to do good, but I can’t really do it. I’ve tried everything, but nothing seems to get me on track.

I think the lawyer in today’s Gospel reading might know what I’m talking about. If anyone knows what God expects of one’s behavior, it is this man. His job is to copy Scripture by hand. Unlike the general population at the time, he can read and write and he’s familiar with every detail of the Hebrew Scripture. He’s a scholar and a teacher – he’s esteemed as an authority in the interpretation and application of the law. One day this expert in religious law approaches Jesus. He’s actually trying to test Jesus. He thinks to himself, “If I can ask Jesus a trick question, he’ll mess up the answer. He will say something that goes against the law and then we’ll have him.” Even more, it seems like this law expert is trying to prove something. Scripture says he wants to justify himself. For some reason, he needs to establish that fact that he’s righteous. He wants Jesus to know that his knowledge and wisdom and law-keeping are enough to make him acceptable to God.

So he says, “Jesus, what do I need to do to have eternal life.” And Jesus says, “You are the expert in the law. You tell me.” The lawyer responds with a good answer. He quotes Scripture: Love God and love your neighbor. But, don’t be fooled into thinking that the Lawyer has a moment of insight here. Almost every Jew could summarize the law exactly as the lawyer has done. You could have stopped anyone on the streets of Israel and asked the same exact question and you would have gotten the same answer. The Lawyer is really just repeating stuff he learned as a child: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength; and your neighbor as yourself.” It’s a good answer. And Jesus agrees. But then the lawyer does something that we sinners like to do. He looks for a loophole. He asks, “But who is my neighbor?” In other words, “OK, Jesus, I know I’m supposed to care, but what are the limits of my love? When can I quit?”

I‘m right there with you, Mr. Teacher of Religious Law. I do the same thing. I want to know the minimal obligation. Tell me what the rules are, and I will make sure to meet all the requirements with as little effort as possible. And if I can’t meet the minimum standard, then I will try to redefine the command in order to arrive at the lower limit. For instance, God says to love the Lord with all of my heart, soul, mind, and strength. I know I can’t love God perfectly. So I will reinterpret the command to mean that I’ll love God to the best of my ability. That way, if I mess it up, I don’t have to confess or repent. I’ll just rely upon my own self-righteousness. I can see what the law-expert is up to. He’s trying to define the limits of love. He wants to make a list of his neighbors so he can love those people and ignore everyone else. He’s really asking Jesus, “Who can I serve, and who can I bypass? What’s the least I can do to still be considered a good person?”

But Jesus knows something the religious expert doesn’t. Jesus knows the difference between heart religion and works religion. Works religion wants to put a box around what God expects of us. It says, “God requires this much of me – no more and no less. If I do these things I’ve satisfied my obligation to God.” It’s an ego--focused religion which is concerned not with the needs of others but with meeting my quota of good deeds. Jesus says to the lawyer, “If you think you can get eternal life by fulfilling love’s minimum requirement, go for it. If you can keep the law perfectly, then do it and you will live.”

And then Jesus blows apart the lawyer’s narrow vision of love by telling a story of a poor traveler who has been robbed and beaten on the treacherous stretch of road between Jerusalem and Jericho. Stripped, clobbered, and left for dead, he is a random victim in a randomly violent world. Then, who comes along but a priest. If anyone could be expected to stop and help it would be a priest. But wait. The priest is not only not coming over to help; he’s passing by on the other side of the road. No reason’s given. Some suggest that, as a priest, he feared being defiled by a corpse, but the truth is if a priest on a journey found a corpse, he had a duty to bury it. Perhaps it was fear. Those who beat the man in the ditch might be lying in wait to beat him as well. Perhaps it was simple revulsion. Have you ever come upon someone after a bloody accident? It’s ugly. Whatever the reason, he passed by on the other side. Some hero! No matter. Here comes a Levite...an “assistant” priest. Maybe he will come through with some help. The text says he came to the place and saw the bloodied Israelite, and he too passed by on the other side.

Enter character number three - a Samaritan. The GOOD Samaritan! Nowhere else in the Bible do we find the words “Good” and “Samaritan” next to each other. For those folks who first heard this story, the phrase “Good Samaritan” would have been an oxymoron - the only GOOD Samaritan would have been a DEAD Samaritan. No hero here. The hostility between Jews and Samaritans centuries old. Samaritans were seen as half-breeds who had perverted the Jewish race and profaned the true religion. By the time of Jesus, the bad blood toward Samaritans was so great that some Jews would go miles out of their way to avoid even walking on Samaritan soil. The hatred between Jew and Samaritan in Jesus’ day was at least as deep as the feeling between some Jews and Arabs today.

So, a Samaritan sees the Israelite, but instead of distancing himself, he comes closer. He’s moved with pity. The Samaritan bandages the man’s wounds. Then he brings the Israelite to an inn and makes sure that he has all the resources needed for healing. End of story. Jesus responds to the lawyer’s question about the limits of love with a fable and then he turns the question back to the lawyer: “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” The lawyer answers, “The one who showed him mercy.” The concept of a GOOD Samaritan is so distasteful that the lawyer can’t bring himself to even speak the name.

And what does Jesus say? “Go, and do likewise.” We are left with the feeling that the one who is admired for his grasp of religious law won’t be able to do it. Jesus nudges him towards heart religion. It is different than works religion. In heart religion, God’s acceptance isn’t granted on the basis of what we do and don’t do. In heart religion, right-standing with God is not claimed. It is given. I will never achieve perfection by my own hard work. In fact, I don’t have to. God exposes my inability, cleans me up, and gives me a new chance. I am no longer bound to the brutal tyranny of trying to always do good in order to make God smile.

What have you been doing to justify yourself before God? What might be keeping you from accepting the fact that God’s love for you and everyone else is flooding over us at this very moment? What’s going on in your life that tempts you to limit your experience of God’s grace?

Some people will justify their behavior by bargaining with God. How many times have we said, “God, if you only do this one thing for me, I promise to be a good person.” As if God could be manipulated by a promise of good behavior that we will never be able to keep.

Others will justify their behavior by counting the cost. We are afraid that when Jesus ups the ante, the new requirement will be too hard and too costly. So we decide to stick to our plan. We like to figure out in advance how much we have to give up – how much our mercy is going to cost us. But real love isn’t planned out like a trip itinerary or a balanced budget. Real love isn’t downsized when the costs creep too high.

There’s another option. It’s the model of the Good Samaritan. The Good Samaritan isn’t concerned with what is required or what is proper. The Good Samaritan isn’t thinking about meeting obligations. That’s works religion. The Samaritan focuses on the injured person. Believe me, there are plenty of injured people around us: men and women with deep wounds and deep needs, friends, acquaintances, even enemies, who suffer more than they let on. Jesus is saying that it would be better if there were more people who showed love without limits . . . if only there were more people who would think of the victim instead of the rules.

By the end of Jesus’ story, we learn something that is critically important to our faith journeys. The kingdom of God belongs to those who admit their weaknesses. It belongs to the sinners, to the small, to the broken and the imperfect, to the lost and the last, to those who realize that our self-righteous behavior keeps us from loving God and loving our neighbor.

God’s new and abundant life has nothing to do with defining the limits of love. It’s for those who wake up in the morning and know that we will mess it up, but who also appreciate new chances to practice unbridled, limitless love. Afterall, it’s the same kind of love that God shows us in Christ.

Sermon for July 12, 2009

Running on Empty
1 Peter 2:21; 1 Peter 4:1-13

I once read about a woman who described her prayer life as glorious. She was constantly aware of God living in her. She loved to spend days locked alone in her room, enjoying the presence of God. She felt joy, peace, and a certainty that God would never leave her. One day, her comfortable life in Christ exploded. She lost the secure feelings she had about her faith. She lost the sense of God’s presence and felt dead to God’s influence. It seemed that God had vanished like last night’s dream. The only thing she thought about was her sin: how she must have been doing everything wrong; how she had forever lost her clean, joyous life with Christ. After a very long period of dryness and emptiness, she suddenly found Jesus again. Or maybe Christ found her. She had a profound experience of Christ’s loving presence. But she soon found herself complaining, “Lord, where were you when all those foul images tortured my mind?” Christ said to her, “All during your temptation, I have remained with you in the depths of your heart. Otherwise you could not have overcome them.” At that moment of realization, the woman was able to let go of her old concept of the presence of God. She realized Christ’s presence was something deeper and holier than she could imagine or feel. The woman’s name was Catherine of Sienna. She died in the year 1380. History reminds us that Catherine of Sienna was a woman who devoted herself to prayer, a nurse who undertook to alleviate the suffering of the poor and the sick; an activist; a reformer of Church and society who took a strong stand on the issues affecting her world and who never hesitated “to speak truth to power.” We remember her as an adviser and counselor who always made time for troubled and uncertain persons who told her their problems.

I tell this story because I think many of us have something in common with Catherine’s story. I’ve heard variations on it over the years. Someone will come to me and say,

• “Matt, I’m a Christian. I have faith – it’s not lost. It’s just that God seems so distant. My prayers seem hollow. The ways in which I used to approach God aren’t working anymore, but I don’t have a new way to do it yet. I feel kind of lost.”
• I’ve heard others say, “I see all kinds of problems around me, and when I pray the situations don’t change. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not praying the right way. Maybe I don’t have enough faith. Where is God right now?”

Maybe you have felt this way: like a new way of being in God’s presence is coming but you don’t know what it looks like, or sounds like. So you wait. And you feel empty. Your faith feels like it’s sagging. Your prayers seem ineffective. The old words and the old ways of doing Christianity aren’t working, but a different way of encountering Christ has not yet emerged.

In each of our live we can probably remember periods of fervor when we could almost touch the goodness of God. Bible studies, prayer meetings, retreats, and worship times were important. It was pleasant to think about a God. It was comforting to speak to God. Perhaps all this has changed. Some may feel that they have lost Christ and fear he will never return. So, as night closes around, we ask, “God, where are you now when I’m running on empty?”

Perhaps we can take comfort in knowing that this is a path that many have walked before. The longed for growth in faith is not far away. God’s love and mercy have not abandoned us. Clouds may shroud us in darkness, but even if we can’t see it, God’s bright light still shines. The period of darkness is actually the beginning of a deeper life faith. It’s a spiritual process that brings us to a deeper understanding of Christ’s presence. Allow me to explain the process as I understand it.

It begins when we are thrown off guard. We see or hear something that has the power to make us question where we stand with God. September 11 had the power to throw many off guard. So does any death or tragedy or act of violence. Raising children or learning to be in relationships can also throw us off guard. We want to find ways to express our faith in these circumstances, but we no longer have adequate ways to do it.

Out of this experience comes an opportunity for connection with God. Nothing says that our moments of vulnerability have to end up with a connection with God. For instance, how many times have see ourselves or others turn to someone other than Christ in a moment of spiritual pain? No matter where we turn, though, God is there, reaching out to us to connect our lives to God’s eternal life. At that moment of realization, we get a glimpse–a murmur--of what God wants from our lives.

The process doesn’t stop there, though. The next part of the process of renewal is turning away from authorities. So often we try to be Christians according to someone else’s expectations. The extreme form of this is legalism. Legalism happens when an authority tells us that real Christians don’t behave a certain way. Real Christians don’t dance, don’t smoke, don’t swear. Real Christians don’t drive ugly cars. Real Christians don’t show pain, don’t doubt, don’t waver. We let others mold us, usually with negative rules: “Don’t do that!” When we are young in faith, this can be a positive thing. It sets up boundaries. Unfortunately, many of us get stuck there, afraid to question, afraid to step out and try something new within the Christian tradition. We want more, but are paralyzed. We become afraid of what someone with authority will think of us. Or, we fear what we will become if we follow that inner still-small voice that calls us to something deeper.

Finding a new authority has to do with asking ourselves if we worship God, or someone else’s experience of God? Do we worship God, or someone’s idea of God? I have relied on what other’s say about how to follow Christ, but what is Jesus Christ, the Lord of the conscience, asking of me. What is God asking of me -- not family or friends, not religious traditions or theological concepts, but God?

You know, Jesus went through his own darkness. We can only begin to understand the depths of pain and loneliness that Jesus experienced when he hung on a cross and cried, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” Betrayed. Abandoned. Mocked. Killed. The death of Jesus was what it took to shake humanity out of its comfortable patterns. Suffering and pain are part of our spiritual growth. This is what Peter is getting at in our NT reading. Peter does not say, “Jesus suffered so you don’t have to.” Peter really says, “Jesus suffered so you will know that it can be done.” He says that the suffering of Jesus frees us to love. Christ’s suffering is our healing. But the healing only comes as we suffer through the spiritual process of allowing God to strip away the old so that he can clothe us with the new.

The good news is that something awesome is coming, if you are open and ready. On the other side of the cross and the grave is resurrection. Jesus is not afraid of your woundedness. He understands it. He reaches out and touches it. Where is God when we are running on empty? God says, “All during your temptation, I have remained with you in the depths of your heart. Otherwise you could not have overcome them.”

How do we participate in the wounds of Christ? We do it by suffering with Christ, knowing that the offer of something new is coming. When life gets hard, don’t give into the temptation of thinking that God is gone. No, you are going through the same kind of suffering that Jesus did. And glory is just around the corner.

Sources:
• Brennen Manning, The Signature of Jesus, revised edition (Oregon: Multnomah, 1996), 137-158.
• Jack Clark Robinson, “Franciscan Spirituality” (1996), www.franciscans.com/docs/oef_crtaik.html.
• Richard Rohr, OFM, “Grieving as Sacred Space”, Sojourners Magazine (January February 2002).
• Catherine of Sienna, Reformer and Spiritual Teacher 29 April 1380 , http://elvis.rowan.edu/~kilroy/JEK/04/29.html

Sermon for July 5, 2009

The Pursuit of Happiness
Based on the sermon “The Pursuit of Happiness” by Ian Lawton

God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth. God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied. God blesses those who are merciful, for they will be shown mercy. God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God. God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God. God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. Matthew 5:3-10

Lately I have been having some discussions with people that center around what kind of congregation we should be. There are some here who want members to adhere to one strict rule of faith and practice. At the extreme, these people believe that the church’s job is to colonize the life-space of others. They promote the idea that if you believe what you’re told to believe and if you live your life according to a prescribed rule based on a narrow interpretation of scripture, only then can you be one of us. I’m tired of that kind of church – the kind that wants you to check your mind at the door, along with your doubts and pains and struggles. I want something else: a church that celebrates independence – a place where there is no one elite group of leaders watching over you, telling you what to think or say -- a place of deep faith but no prescribed creeds to which you must adhere in order to participate in the life of this community – a place of discernment where our members and friends order their lives around a set of mutually agreed upon values and principles. My deep hope is that TCC is transforming into a place where you can be free to pursue happiness -- in your life, in your relationships, in your work, and in your play. With no guarantees that you are going to attain it, and without too closely defining what it will look like if you get it, my hope is that this community will be a place where we inspire each other to pursue happiness, and offer each other life and liberty as a gift.

Imagine this scenario: You have your choice. In one hand, you can pick a lottery ticket. In the other, a set of water-skis. Which of those options do you think you would take? If you took the lottery ticket and won, you could buy all the water-skis you would ever want. You could travel around the world and ski in every lake you find. On the other hand, if you didn’t win the lottery you would be left with nothing. So you may be better off taking the water-skis. If nothing else you will get to take one good ride on your new skis. Of course, as you are pulled through the water by a high speed boat, you run the risk of suffering a terrible accident and becoming a paraplegic, so maybe the lottery ticket would be the safer bet. However, research suggests that one year after winning the lottery, people are no happier than they were before they won. So maybe the lottery ticket is not the better choice. Then again, some researchers suggest that one year after becoming a paraplegic, people are no more or less happy than they were before the event.

So, one year later, people those who win the lottery or those whose mobility is tragically altered have the same level of happiness as they had before those events occurred. We’ve been deluded to think that events make us happy or unhappy. We think that if we get possessions and property that we will be happier. But, some studies have shown that when people move from living at a survival level, where only their basic needs are being met, to having a roof over their heads and a small income, the increase in happiness is huge. But beyond about $12,000 per year, happiness levels begin to plateau. The difference between earning $50,000 and 50 million dollars a year does not equate to greater happiness. Happiness does not come from great wealth or possessions. Money might make misery easier to live with, as Twain said, but it cant buy happiness.

Think about another scenario: Imagine being left at the wedding altar. Imagine standing where I stand now, on your wedding day, and having your partner flee from the church. Imagine how you’d feel if that happened to you. Would you not say that was the worst day of your life? Anyone who is honest would say this is the worst day of their life. And yet, some testimonies suggest that one year later, many people who’ve been dumped at the altar claim that it was the best thing that could have ever happened to them. We have a tendency to magnify the significance of events, when in reality they are unlikely to be giving us any more or less happiness than expected.

I’m reminded of a story about a farmer who was completely dependent upon one horse for his livelihood. The horse eventually died, and the farmer’s neighbors all said “you are so unfortunate.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.” Sure enough, a few days later, one of his neighbors had great compassion on the farmer, and bought him a new horse. The neighbors said, “You are so fortunate.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.” A few days later the horse ran away, and the neighbors said, “You unfortunate man.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.” Sure enough, two days later the horse came back with another horse. For the first time in his life the farmer owned two horses. All the neighbors said, “You fortunate man.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.” The next day, the farmer took his son riding for the very first time now that they two horses. The son fell off and broke his leg. All the neighbors said, “You unfortunate man.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.” Sure enough, two weeks later the military came to the town to gather all the young men for war. They ignored the farmer’s son because of his broken leg. The neighbors said, “You fortunate man.” The farmer said, “We’ll see.”

If only we could take more of a “we’ll see” approach to life, we might find ourselves in a lot less misery. No event is an end point. No incident is the last word on life. One of the ways we can pursue happiness is to allow life to ebb and flow all around us, and not grab onto it too tightly. Whatever you are going through right now is not the end of the story. There’s always more. There will be mysterious twists and turns that we cannot predict.

So what is happiness? The World Database of Happiness keeps track of how nations subjectively appreciate life. Their survey asks two questions. The first is, “Are you happy right now?” The second goes a little deeper and asks, “All things considered, are you satisfied in life? Are you content?” Right now, Iceland is the happiest nation in the world. Mexico is number 5. The United States ranks somewhere between 27 and 31. The countries with the lowest levels of happiness are Rwanda, Benin, Iraq, Ethiopia, Chad (four of those countries are in Africa).

All things considered, taking a broad view of life, are you satisfied? Are you content? I wonder if this is what Jesus was speaking about when he gave the beatitudes to his disciples. People gathered around Jesus and he began to teach them by using a poem. Most of you will recognize the traditional translation: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” The word in Greek is makarios. Makarios is used in Greek literature to describe the bliss of the gods who were not affected by the changes of life. Another translation of this verse could be, “Oh the unending bliss of the poor in spirit.” Jesus says that the poor in spirit can be content, because they know what it is to come within an inch of having their hope taken away from them. Because they know how it feels to be on the edge of spiritual devastation, they hold on to things, and perspectives, and people loosely. Satisfied are those who know that what goes around comes around.

Jesus then says, “God blesses those who mourn.” Oh the bliss of those who mourn, because they go deep within themselves to embrace sadness. It’s because they’ve embraced sadness they know what it is to embrace gladness. Oh the bliss of those who mourn because they know that life is too short – that it ebbs and flows and cannot be taken for granted.

God blesses the meek. Oh, the bliss of knowing your minute place in this gigantic, unthinkably large cosmos that we’re part of. Oh, the bliss of knowing how microscopic you are and yet how significant you are all at the same time.

Blessed are those who have a vision for justice. Blessed are those who know that when someone else suffers they suffer too. Oh, the bliss of those with a sense of mission concerning God’s love-filled justice and who will not be stopped from their mission no matter what criticism comes their way. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Happy are those who have a strong sense of authentic calling in life. No amount of persecution can stop them from pursuing that vision. Righteousness means a thorough seeking of justice and peace for all people.

Our country was founded with a mighty vision: a vision of life and liberty for all. It has had many false starts over the last couple of hundred years. There have been many groups in this country that have not enjoyed life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. So, the words of the beatitudes have been ringing in my ears on this Independence Day Weekend: God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied. That sounds like the kind of country where I want to live. It also sounds like the kind of church at which I want to worship. The pursuit of happiness, whatever it looks like, and wherever it takes you, is about affirming life and humanity in its brokenness, affirming liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all people.

A spiritual teacher was once questioned by his students who asked, “Why are you so happy? You are surrounded by suffering and loss, so why are you so happy?” The teacher picked up a crystal glass and she said, “I love this glass. I love the way it sounds when I touch it. I love the way it glistens in the sun. And yet one day, no doubt, my elbow will knock it off of the table and it will break. I love this glass because I know that it’s already broken.”

“All things considered, are you satisfied? Are you content?” Our lives are like broken glass. Our humanity glistens in the sun and chimes with the sound of shared love. Yet, Jesus suggests that we seek happiness in the broken places of our lives. When we understand our brokenness, we won’t grab life too tightly. We might stop striving to save it by putting it in a bottle or storing it on a shelf. We let life come and go around us without clutching it. We stand alongside each other and together we take one step toward greater life, greater liberty, and greater happiness. Can it happen? We’ll see.

Sermon For June 21, 2009

Be of Good Cheer
June 21, 2009

It’s been twenty-one years since my own High School Graduation. Twenty-one years ago, I (like most high school graduates) saw an unlimited future ahead of me. A new chapter was beginning. An old one was ending. I wasn’t completely sure of what was ahead of me but that really didn’t matter, for I had graduated. There were all sorts of opportunities ahead of me . . . too many, in fact, to imagine at the time.

Soon enough, our High School graduates will be off on their own adventure. And every adventure has anxiety. It wouldn’t be an adventure if you weren’t required you to get outside of your comfort zone. It would only be a vacation. Sot his morning, on the eve of this great adventure, I wanted to take some time to give you some survival tips – some proverbial advice -- some things I’ve learned along the way. This is not just for the grads. These are a few life lessons for all of us to ponder. My first piece of advice is to get a life.

Anna Quinlen, novelist and former NY Times writer, dishes out the some good advice in her book A Short Guide to a Happy Life. Anna writes:

“You cannot be really first-rate at your work if your work is all you are. So I suppose a piece of advice I could give anyone is pretty simple: get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you’d care so very much about those things if you developed an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast while in the shower?

“Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over the dunes . . . Get a life in which you pay attention to the baby as she scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger. Turn off your cell phone . . . Keep still. Be present. Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Each time I look at my diploma, I remember that I am still a student, still learning every day how to be human. Get a life in which you are generous. Look around at the azaleas making fuchsia star bursts in spring; look at a full moon hanging silver in a black sky on a cold night. And realize that life is glorious, and that you have no business taking it for granted. Care so deeply about its goodness that you want to spread it around.”

Here are a few things I’ve learned in the past 21 years since High School:
· I’ve learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities.
· I’ve learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away.
· I’ve learned that the best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly person.
· I’ve learned that God does not propose to judge us until we die. So why should you?
· I’ve learned that time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
I’ve learned that that just one person saying to me, “You’ve made my day!” makes my day.
· I’ve learned that that being kind is more important than being right.
· I’ve learned that the only substitute for good manners is fast reflexes.
· I’ve learned that I can always pray for someone when I don’t have the strength to help him or her in some other way.
· I’ve learned that that no matter how serious your life requires you to be, everyone needs a friend to act goofy with.
· I’ve learned that sometimes all a person needs is a hand to hold and a heart to understand.
· I’ve learned that under everyone’s hard shell is someone who wants to be appreciated and loved.
· I’ve learned that the Lord didn’t do it all in one day. What makes me think I can?
· I’ve learned that when you plan to get even with someone, you are only letting that person continue to hurt you.
· Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
· I’ve learned to quit griping about church. If it was perfect, we couldn’t belong.
· I’ve learned that brain cells come and brains cells go, but fat cells live forever.
· I’ve learned that you can’t have everything. Where would you put it?
· I’ve learned that 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
· I’ve learned that one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire.
· I’ve learned that all generalizations are false, including this one.
· I’ve learned that life is tough, but I’m tougher.
· I’ve learned that opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones you miss.
· I’ve learned that to never mess up an apology with an excuse.
· I’ve learned never to miss a good chance to shut up.
· I’ve learned that when you harbor bitterness, happiness will dock elsewhere.
· I’ve learned that I should keep my words both soft and tender, because tomorrow I may have to eat them.
· I’ve learned that that I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose what I do about it.
· I’ve learned that everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while climbing it.
· I’ve learned that to be nice to my kids. They’ll choose my nursing home.
· I’ve learned that a closed mouth gathers no foot.
· I’ve learned to borrow money from a pessimist. They don’t expect it back.
· I’ve learned that duct tape is like the force, it has a light side and a dark side and it holds the universe together.
· I’ve learned that the less time I have to work with, the more things I get done.
· I’ve learned that happiness is a journey, not a destination.
· I’ve learned that if you don’t pay your exorcist, you get repossessed.
· I’ve learned that he who laughs last thinks slowest.
· I’ve learned that money will buy a fine dog, but only kindness will make him wag his tail.
· I’ve learned that blessed are those who hunger and thirst, for they are sticking to their diets.
· I’ve learned that if you can remain calm, you just don’t have all the facts.
· I’ve learned that time may be a great healer, but it’s also a lousy beautician.
· I’ve learned that a clean desk is a sign of a cluttered desk drawer.
· I’ve learned never to do card tricks for the group you play poker with.
· I’ve learned that if you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.
· I’ve learned that your worst humiliation will only be someone else’s momentary entertainment.
· I’ve learned that the noblest revenge is to forgive.
· I’ve learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something completely different.
· I’ve learned that God accepts you the way you are, but loves you too much to leave you that way.
· I’ve learned to be of good cheer

Do you ever wonder why people seem to take life so seriously? I once read an Associated Press story about how Americans are carrying more stress than ever, and we’re not carrying it very well. Some of the most common responses to stress are to work harder, sleep less, worry more, and deny ourselves the opportunities for recreation that would provide a measure of relief. The flip side of that is to mask our depression with a restless pursuit of entertainment and distraction. I recently heard this statistic: adults laugh, on average, 30 to 40 times a day, and children laugh 300 to 400 times a day.

I have met many people who believe it is their responsibility to be serious, when in fact what they are truly being called to be is careful or caring. Let me put it this way: in the dozens of funerals I have led or attended, I have never heard a eulogist say, “You know what I admired most about this person? His serious side!” I’ve never heard someone say, “If my mother was anything she was serious.” So my final advice is this: be of good cheer. Keep a smile on your face. Never lose your sense of humor.

Graduates- if you haven’t already figured it out- this church is proud of you! We love you and we want all the best for you. We give thanks for what God has already done in your life, and for all that God has planned for your future. We hope that you will always abide in the love of Christ, knowing that you are a beloved child of God. We, your church family, want you to know that you always have a home here always. But we also understand that it’s time to say, “Go, for we expect good things from you.” After you have experienced all the world has to offer, we know there will come a day when we will sit at your feet, listen to your advice, and learn about the ways of God.

Sermon for June 7, 2009

A Midnight Meeting
John 3:1-17

Today I want to ask us a question. Do we take the bible literally, or do we take the Bible seriously? You can do both, of course. But what about those who do not read the Bible as the literal, word-for-word voice of God. What about those who struggle to understand it – those who doubt and ask tough questions and seek to live faithful lives. Can we still take the Bible seriously?

Biblical literalism goes something like this: “The Bible says x, therefore we must believe and/or do x." Today’s scripture is a perfect case in point. John 3:16 has provided motivation for some of the most destructive and unchristian impulses of those who take the name Christian. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life." Taken literally it suggests that those who do not believe in this Son will perish. It is difficult to overestimate the harm, hurt and abuse that has been encouraged by this literal rendering of John's Gospel. I think part of the problem is that we make these words a new creed – a test of faith and an absolute statement about whom God loves and whom God rejects, who is in and who is out.

The irony is that of the four Gospel writers, John was the least literal of them all. All of the Gospel writers take great liberty with the actual events of Jesus life and the things he said. They were not historians. They were seeking to communicate a faith. But, John takes the greatest freedom in retelling the story of Jesus. It is particularly ironic that in today's Gospel John's Jesus rejects the very literalism that has so often dominated the reading of this text. Jesus offers the metaphor of birth to speak about spiritual growth. Jesus says that followers must be born of the Spirit, born of the wind, born a second time. Nicodemus takes a literal approach to Jesus words. "How can one be born a second time from your mother's womb?" Amazed at Nicodemus' literal understanding of this evocative image, Jesus says, "You are a teacher of faith and yet you are unable to understand what I am saying?" Jesus would be equally amazed at how his invitation to deepen our encounter with God through a rebirth of the Spirit is still used today as a literal basis for exclusion, rejection, dominance, and judgment. If the life and example of Jesus gives us reason at all to be literal in our reading of Jesus words it would not be John 3:16, but rather John 3:17 "God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him."

I believe that Jesus was not interested in establishing a belief system to be the cornerstone for acceptance or rejection by God. He was, however, very interested in the question: how does one come to have faith? How can we take these words seriously? We need to struggle with the same questions. Do we have faith because someone tells us what to believe? Do we have faith because we are scared that if we don’t say the right words and show up at the right events, and live approved lifestyles, and associate with the best people, that God will punish us? Do we have faith that can tolerate doubt, faith that can grow and change – faith that relies on the work of the Spirit moving through the gathered people of God?

Congregationalists have always struggled with these questions. The United Church of Christ, in its original Constitution, asserted:

The United Church of Christ . . . claims as its own the faith of the historic Church expressed in the ancient creeds and reclaimed in the basic insights of the Protestant Reformers. It affirms the responsibility of the church in each generation to make this faith its own in reality of worship, in honesty of thought and expression, and in purity of heart before God.

This means that Congregationalists believe there is no centralized authority or hierarchy that can impose any doctrine or form of worship on its members. Christ alone is Head of the church. We seek a balance between freedom of conscience and accountability to the faith. We take the Bible seriously. We listen to the historic creeds and confessions of our ancestors as testimonies, but not tests of the faith. In other words, our faith is founded on the Bible, and informed by the Church of the past. But it can never stay frozen in the past. We must continue to grow and evolve: to receive new insights, and, when necessary, to reject past ideas when they have been disproved.

In general, Congregationalists are not a creedal people, in the sense that we point to a detailed statement of faith that we can say all Congregationalists believe. I’m always amazed when people want to take their personal values and interpretations of Scripture and make them tests of faith upon all. Their reasoning goes something like this: “If you believe what I believe, think like I think, and live as I tell you to live, you are acceptable.” This is not who we are. Our congregation affirms that all people are free to make choices regarding their own personal and spiritual journeys. I think people sometimes forget the diversity represented here. Today, Trumbull Congregational Church includes people from all walks of Christian faith and practice – Old-time New England Congregationalists, as well as those with Roman Catholic, Episcopalian, Lutheran, Presbyterian, and Evangelical backgrounds. Some people who worship here have Jewish backgrounds. Some are agnostics. We’re a diverse bunch. While we are all united in our common belief in the basic tenets of the Christian faith, there is diversity of opinion among us with regard to some issues. This has been the case in Congregationalism almost since the beginning.

So, as with our forebears, our church’s stress is not on creeds, but on a covenant. Most Congregational churches have written covenants as their foundations. The covenant expresses the church’s reason for being. Our church covenant is found in our by-laws. We are going to recite it later on in the service.

We do covenant with the Lord, and with one another, to walk together as followers of Jesus Christ, and to devote ourselves to the study, the practice, and the spread of Christianity. We do endeavor to be loyal to this fellowship and to help one another in the Christian life. According to our abilities and opportunities, we give support for the work, attend the meetings of this church, and share in the common worship of God, God being our helper. Amen.

We repeat this covenant together whenever we receive new members into our church family. It expresses what we are about as a church: our intent, as fellow-members of the body of Christ to walk together in the ways of the Lord as faithfully as we know how, led by the teachings of Scripture and particularly the teachings of Jesus Christ, as Spirit of God illumines them for us. Such intent transcends whatever theological differences may exist between us, and unites us in a common goal under the lordship of Christ.

Today we will confirm some young people who challenge us to grow and evolve. We will bring them into the full membership of the church and extend them the hand of fellowship. As we do, we need to remember that they have something to bring to us. I’m not talking about serving on boards or committees, or showing up for Trustee work days. That’s all fine, but their presence here is more than volunteer labor. They bring us a fresh perspective on what it means to follow God and be part of the church in this day and age.

We embrace them as part of this community. And like all of us, they will discover something: When you begin to scratch our surfaces, you'll find we are not solid gold. When you stand too close for us for too long, we begin to smell like human beings. You see, we are not all wonderful all the time. We're not all tidy, and caring, and charming and all the other things we like in people. Some of us are even a bit coarse. A couple of us have bad habits. Several of us take ourselves too seriously, and don't always tell the truth. And yet we are part of a community. We work together. We share common goals. We seek to live out our faith, and take the Bible seriously. That means today we can affirm John 3:16 in a new way. God so loved the world that He sent his one and only son, so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Rather than creating a belief system that saves some and rejects others, John expresses the depth of God's love. How do we grow in faith, how do we grow in our encounter with this God who so loved the world?

I don't know about you but it has been my experience that my faith is strongest, I feel most close to God when I participate in community, when I care about others, and when I let go of my certainties and remain open to the guiding of God's Spirit.

Sermon for Sunday, May 24

The Return of the Church
May 24, 2009

Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days. The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses. Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers and singing and joy! The deserts will become as green as the mountains of Lebanon, as lovely as Mount Carmel or the plain of Sharon. There the LORD will display his glory, the splendor of our God. With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands, and encourage those who have weak knees. Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, and do not fear, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies. He is coming to save you.” And when he comes, he will open the eyes of the blind and unplug the ears of the deaf. The lame will leap like a deer, and those who cannot speak will sing for joy! Springs will gush forth in the wilderness, and streams will water the wasteland. The parched ground will become a pool, and springs of water will satisfy the thirsty land. Marsh grass and reeds and rushes will flourish where desert jackals once lived. And a great road will go through that once deserted land. It will be named the Highway of Holiness. Evil-minded people will never travel on it. It will be only for those who walk in God’s ways; fools will never walk there. Lions will not lurk along its course, nor any other ferocious beasts. There will be no other dangers. Only the redeemed will walk on it. Those who have been ransomed by the LORD will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear, and they will be filled with joy and gladness. -- Isaiah 35:1-10

Isaiah says, when the Messiah comes, the deserts will bloom. I say, forget about the deserts. I need the Messiah to return and help my tomato plants bloom. I have the worst luck with tomatoes lately. I planted these from seed. I had visions of growing food, and feeding my family and sustaining the earth with my simple organic home agriculture. I bought reputable heirloom seeds. This one is called “Silvery Fir.” It is an heirloom from Siberia, bred to grow in cold climates with a short growing year. I figured, if they can grow them in Siberia, than I can grow it in Connecticut. I’ve tended to them, watered them, and transplanted them. I even sing to them (they like Russian opera). Look at these things. They are small, leggy, spindly, and wispy. But I have not lost hope.

These little Siberian tomatoes have a lot of competition. There are bigger, sexier, tomatoes on the market that make mine look puny -- like the Burpee Best Boy. Best Boy was born to be a star in the garden. Best Boy’s maturity produces large, firm fruits on a compact plants, with excellent uniform coloring disease resistance. I had a landlord who used to buy these beautiful hybrid plants. We lived in a two-family house near Boston, Chris and I living above our landlord’s family. The landlord and I shared a garden patch in his yard. Every Memorial Weekend, I would plant my tender seedlings. He would come home from a garden center with a two-foot tall hybrid tomato, small green fruit already forming on thick vines. He was competitive like that – a vegetable bully. He had to have the biggest and best tomatoes in the garden. Both he and his tomatoes were show offs.

So, what would you rather have – a giant, fruitful, reliable, uniform, hybrid tomato, or this spindly little heirloom. Before you answer, let me give you some information. Hybrids are bred with an emphasis on yield at the expense of hardiness and resistance. New hybrids do not last long. They eventually succumb to pest attack after a few years and have to be replaced by another newly bred hybrid. New seeds displace the old. When once hundreds of old varieties were grown, now there’s only a couple of varieties that need constant replacing. Hybrid tomatoes are bred primarily for their appearance and their production abilities. Taste has always been secondary and has been largely neglected. The worse part is that Best Boy cannot reproduce. I know, it’s sad, but once Best Boy has ripened, his future is gone. You cannot save the seeds and grow it again next year. If you want to grow Best Boy, you need to buy the seeds from Burpee, who protects Best Boy’s lineage as a close-guarded company secret. This is the price you have to pay for a beautiful tomato.

When my leggy little heirloom grows, it will certainly have challenges to face. But it will have a well-documented history. It will bear fruit with unique shapes and colors. I will be able to save the seeds and grow the plant again next year. And the taste! Silvery Fir will grow into something wonderful – robust and fruitful tomato plants – the pride of my garden. You wouldn’t know it now, but these tomatoes are going to do great things!

So which one is for you – the heirloom or the hybrid. What if I told you that everything we need to know about church is found in my tomato plants? What if I told you that the survival of the church is like picking between an heirloom or a hybrid tomato? Which church would you want? Over the past few weeks, I have preached on the challenges the church faces as Christendom declines in the West. Where once the culture relied on the church as a moral compass and center of community life, American churches now find themselves pushed to the margins in the most religiously pluralistic country in the world. We struggle to find relevance in a culture than is less interested in organized religion.

We are not the first ones to experience a seismic shift in our religious practice. In the Bible, the people of Israel went through something called the Exile. God’s people were taken over by the armies of Babylon and deported from the Promised Land. Babylon’s armies killed the monarchy and smashed the temple in Jerusalem to the ground. Some Israelites remained in their devastated homeland, but most were forced to live as defeated prisoners in Babylon. Everything they relied on to define their spiritual existence was taken from them: the Temple, the religious establishment, the monarchy, their sense of entitlement, their self-assurance of God’s favored blessing.

I think that our churches face our own modern-day exile. We can’t imagine living without our church buildings, our denominational structure, our preeminent place in the culture, our belief God will favor us and our nation forever. But those things are changing. Our buildings are so expensive that they compromise our witness. Our denomination seems to be fading away. Christianity is no longer the unofficial state religion. Sometimes it feels like God has withdrawn favor toward us. In other words, we are being forced to live in a land and a church that is far different from what it was when most of us grew up.

Some churches respond by becoming hybrids. They try to become the religions Best Boys in the religious garden. They market themselves as a commodity in the religious marketplace. In fact, some churches try t brand themselves. They know that today’s consumers define their identity and construct meaning by the brands they buy. Think of the commercials that feature a trendy young man who introduces himself saying, “Hi, I am a Mac.” Standing to his right is a pudgy, bespectacled, middle-aged man in an outdated brown suit. He stiffly says, “I am a PC.” The message could not be clearer. Purchasing a Mac means you are young, hip, and friendly. Nothing in the commercials states that PC users are dullards, but the power of branding triggers the imagination. Apple is not selling computers,. Its selling an identity. Some content that this is also happening in some churches. Two generations ago, when loyalty to denominations was high, a church was chosen because of its doctrinal beliefs. Today some churches market image over substance. They have rock bands, high-tech lighting, multi-media projectors, coffee shops in the foyer, and a vibe that says, “We are hip. We are relevant. We look good.” They feel like this is what they need to do to capture the heart of the next generations. They value, appearance, production value, and external transformation. But can these Best Boys reproduce? Can they sustain their brand, or will they keep devising new pitches, new looks, and new branding to look good?

Facing the decline of the Western Church, some congregations will respond by becoming heirlooms. They will remain steady and reliable oddballs – variegated, diverse, slow-growing beauties. They will be able to reproduce. The results will be small but steady.

And then there are churches that will do nothing. Their life will become monotonous and routine. Locked into a faith is safe and predictable, they will only be able to express themselves within the established patterns of tradition. They will not look for new experiences and will not expect anything new or different to happen. So, of course, it nothing different will happen.

Which version of the church will survive? The hybrid? The heirloom? The inherited church? A combination of all, or none of them? Like the biblical exiles of old, we know that God has something planned for us, but we are not exactly sure what it will be. The biblical exiles believed God’s promises that they were not doomed to extinction. God would not leave them. God would not forsake them. The deserts would bloom as God carved a pathway through the wilderness and lead them home. In Isaiah’s prophetic vision, parched land springs to life, announcing the glory and majesty of God. Those who are weary, enfeebled or fearful can take heart because God comes to save. God gives sight for those who are blind, hearing for those who are deaf, speech for those who are mute. The lame now leap and those who are speechless now sing. Isaiah’s prophecy promises restoration to a people who have been pushed to the margins.

I think the church will survive, and we will survive by reclaiming our role as pilgrim people. Back in England in the 1600’s, when Christianity was the established religion of the kingdom, every citizen in England was a member of the Church. A group of Christians believed that God called them out of the national church. They dreamed of transforming the church from within. They were called Puritans. They thought that if they practiced their faith, they could reform the government. Some reformers were not content to wait. They were called Separatists. They were willing to separate themselves from the state church and establish congregations of their own where they could worship freely. Some of these separatists made their way to the new world. They were the Pilgrims who eventually landed at Plymouth Rock. A few years later, the flood tide of English Puritans flowed toward America and founded the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The Pilgrims and Puritans eventually united into what we now call congregational churches. Those Separatists knew the promises of Scripture, and they were ready to die to make their point. If Christ promised to be present to ordinary believers, then that was the kind of church they were determined to be.

Pilgrim people are those who understand that life is a journey, characterized by experience, learning, personal growth, opportunity, challenge, success and failure, joy and sadness. Pilgrim people appreciate the opportunity from time to time to rest and renew their energy and strength, but they always move on to embrace the next phase of their life, whatever it may bring. Pilgrim people dare to dream and to vision for the future! Pilgrim people trust God to equip all God’s people with the gifts of the Spirit!

I think we are ready for our own reformation. We get so busy funding programs and maintaining traditions. But, tradition serves no purpose unless we are also willing to step outside of that tradition to think about what kind of church we need to be. We are a vibrant family of faith that is beginning to dare to dream of new possibilities with God’s guidance.

Let’s be a church in which all who enter in know of God’s consuming love that will never let us go . . . a place where we can come and be reminded that God knows us each by name. Let’s be a church a church where the real presence of the Holy Spirit is renewing and refreshing us. Let’s be a church that doesn’t have all the answers but asks the right questions.

Let’s be a church a church where worship is joyful, exciting, and expectant, as well as reverent . . . a place where we can come as we are and know we will be accepted and wanted in this place. It’s a church that suffers when you are not here with us. It’s a church where people gather to encourage and be encouraged, to love and be loved, to forgive and be forgiven.

Let’s be a church that’s not afraid of change, but a church that is able to see where God is moving and knows how to join in. It’s a church that calls forth men and women, parents and grandparents, single people, youth, and children who are equipped and sent out to revitalize our families and our communities. Let’s be a church that gives people tools to raise their families in faith . . . a church where people are encouraged to reflect God’ s Spirit at school, work, and home. . .where we are all sent out to add value to the lives of other people.

Let’s be a church that is so vital to the community that it would be missed if it was no longer around . . . a church so blazing in its worship, its quality of caring, it’s eagerness to reach out to those in need, that it can be seen by all and not contained

This is the church of the future. It may be a leggy, pathetic home-grown heirloom. But with nurture and patience, with strategic plans and humble faith, the church will bear fruit. It will be unique, odd-shaped fruit with a distinct taste and the ability to reproduce. The church will return – not to it’s old glory days, but to a new resilient state where we enact the love of a God who embraces all.

Sources
· http://74.125.47.132/search?q=cache:1zjyyx8YfLkJ:www.ecumenical.ucaweb.com.au/data/WEBSITE%2520Sermon%2520Pitman%2520A%2520PILGRIM%2520PEOPLE.doc+pilgrim+people+sermon&cd=6&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us&client=firefox-a
· http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=2173
· The Divine Commodity by Skye Jethani