Sunday, June 22, 2014

Discipleship Comes After Apostleship

Discipleship Comes After Apostleship
Matthew 10:24-39; Romans 6:1-10

In classic church architecture, the sanctuary is often called the nave. This word comes from the Latin word navis which means ship. In the early church a simple line drawing of a ship was the icon for the church, to use a contemporary term. Pews are a modern version of the benches which were the seating arrangement in ancient galleys and triremes where the oarsmen pulled together to propel the ship. The people in the pews pull together to propel the gospel.

I often think of the church as having an armada of ships. There is wor-ship. That would be a fancy cruise ship because most of us just want to sit back and enjoy the ride with everything done for us. Then there’s steward-ship. That must be a battleship with big guns blazing, because everyone hates to see it coming.

There are two more ships of the line in the fleet: apostle-ship and disciple-ship. I think that apostle-ship must be something like the sleek, tall-masted clipper ships of the 19th century which sped across the seas. Discipleship is a cargo ship because it carries the weight laded with containers. Using those images, there is no way that a person can mistake a schooner for a cargo ship or vice versa. Yet people often do confuse apostleship and discipleship.

In A Theological Word Book of the Bible, Alan Richardson defines the two “ships” this way.

  • An apostle is one sent forth, a messenger, especially one authorized to act in a particular matter for the one who sends him. In nearly every instance Paul understood himself to have been personally sent by Jesus Christ to the peoples and places his travels took him, including places he hadn’t intended to go, like Macedonia and Malta, where the storm-blown ship landed on his rough imprisoned journey to Rome.
  • Disciple is the English form of a Latin word derived from a verb meaning to learn. Hence a disciple is a learner, a scholar, a pupil, and sometimes an apprentice. Richardson notes that in the gospel the twelve are hardly ever unambiguously called “the disciples.” Rather they are “his disciples.” Disciples were primarily students who attached themselves to a mentor or teacher to receive, retain, and pass on  the knowledge that the teacher had. So we have John the Baptizer telling some of his disciples that Jesus is a greater teacher than John is. Some left John and went to Jesus. We could say that John exercised apostleship because he sent them to learn from Jesus.

With that as background, we are accosted by the reading in Matthew 10. It is uncomfortable. It chafes. We like passages where Jesus lets others have it (deserving others, we would say). We like Jesus being friendly, caring, compassionate. We don’t find any of those qualities evident in Jesus in this reading. And we feel like we are in his sights as he speaks these words confront us.

The text is not some quirky invitation to delight in family dysfunction. On the contrary, in the words of William Goettler, assistant dean of ministry studies at Yale Divinity School and co-pastor of First Presbyterian Church, New Haven, it is a fine example of the biblical word not saying what, at first glance, it seems to be saying. This is not a proof text for a religious fanatics to divide families. Jesus is actually addressing the faithful who seek to live into their Christian faith while facing conflict and discouragement, and even threats to their physical well-being, because of the gospel’s calling.

Earlier in the chapter Jesus had sent out the twelve with authority to throw out unclean spirits and to heal every disease and sickness. He commissioned them to announce: “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” He told them that the work wasn’t always going to be light and easy and he told them how to respond when they were harassed. Jesus’ words in today’s reading are a follow-up on that.

The easy days of listening to Jesus and meandering around the countryside are over. A warm reception of the gospel won’t always be the case. The disciples will learn what it means to face opposition and struggle. They will ask the questions that every generation of believers has asked: What are we going to do when we can’t do it ourselves? Will our faith survive? Will the church survive?

Apostles send disciples. Discipleship is a journey that includes learning. Learning is not easy. Perhaps you remember trying to learn the multiplication tables or French or the connections of the Plantagenet kings of England or the steps of cell division. Learning is painful. How many scraped knees and elbows did it take before you learned to ride or bicycle or roller skate? Learning never ends. You had first to learn how to dial, yes, rotary dial a phone. Then push buttons came along, followed by cordless phones, flip phones, and now smart phones. The first microwaves only had a dial to turn for so much heating. Now you have to program them.

The over-arching question today’s reading pushes on us has to do with discovering and coming to terms with what Jesus is trying to teach us. Teachers don’t teach us what we already know. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I have wasted my time if I go to a workshop or seminar and only hear what I already know or what I already agree with.

When Jesus talks about a sword that will divide, he is talking about confronting and challenging the things we think we know already, the things that we have been taught from early on in a very prejudicial kind of way. I know that I am not as racist as my parents were. I also know that there is still some of that in me. I know that my children are less racist than I am, they probably have something them that has carried forward.

Jesus is talking about dividing us off from the comfortable certainties that we take for granted, the party lines that we have never questioned critically or researched. He was continually doing that. He challenged a man rich in material goods to think deeply about the things he really needed to have eternal life. He challenged synagogue leaders about their attention to detail that blinded them to the bigger picture of God-given dignity and faithful reliance on God’s providence. He challenged social mentalities that isolated individuals from community and devalued those who were made every bit as much in the image of God as they were.

Jesus  talked about freeing those who were imprisoned. And the reality is that we are all prisoners to attitudes, ideas, habits, beliefs that need to be severed from our lives in order to become better learners, more faithful disciples.

We have been sent. You are sent every time you leave this place of worship. You are sent to heal and to cast out unclean spirits. You are sent to proclaim with words and actions the reality of the here and now presence of God at work. But you are sent to learn as you go. Not every thing you want to know or need to know can be learned in class or from reading books or from listening to sermons. It comes from on the job training, from life experience, from the school of hard knocks. Conversely not everything you want to know or need to know is learned in the world. You need to spend time with a challenging teacher wrestling with questions for which you do not yet have responses. You need to develop the skills and resources for struggling to understand how God operates in a complex, often inscrutable world. And the confounding thing about discipleship, about learning, is that the more you learn the more questions and viewpoints arise that seem to joust with what we thought we knew.

When Jesus divides us from all the things that prevent our active, vital discipleship, we are left with the raw reality that we have no option other than to depend on the God whose love for us took on the whole world. The world attempted to destroy him. It didn’t succeed. Not only did he rise from the grave, he breathed the mighty God Spirit into the world to keep on severing the chains of sin, of complacency, of ignorance, of deception, of delusion, of hatred, of arrogance.

The message of Matthew’s passage for us today is that we will survive, that the church will survive. Every time the General Assembly meets there are those who say the church is going to hell in a handbasket and there are those who say that the church is surviving by the wonderful grace of God. It doesn’t matter what the issues are, be it divestment of stock in companies seemingly more interested in war and profits rather than peace and community responsibility, or wrestling with the ways of human relationships in church and state traditionally called marriage, or being faithful in ministry through innovative or antiquated church structures, or speaking peace to a fearful world caught in a spiraling escalation of gun adoration and violence.

We are not called to be apostles of any one narrowly defined and usually God-diminishing view point, however good and true and righteous. We are called to be disciples, listening for God’s word among all the words that assail us on a daily basis. Jesus stilled the storm on the sea. Jesus can and will still the storms that prevent us from serving him in an ever growing discipleship.

Let us pray.

Ever-teaching God, Jesus Christ is the word, the way, the truth, the life that we need. Grant your Spirit to so teach us that as we are buffeted by doubt and rejection, by complacency or controversy, we will grow into the strength of faith that will lose the dross of living and gain the joyous life of our salvation in the risen and reigning Christ. Amen.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com
Copyright 2014 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Keeping the Window Open

Keeping the Window Open
John 17:1-11; Acts 1:6-11; 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

Carnegie Mellon University computer science professor Randy Pausch was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and succumbed to the disease in 2008. He left a wife and three young children, the youngest of which would hardly remember him. He wanted to leave a legacy for his children, a personal statement about who he was, what he believed, what he dreamed of, what he loved and celebrated. He gave one last lecture at Carnegie Mellon, and expanded it into a book which became a best seller.

This past week a true American treasure died at the age of 86. Maya Angelou matured from a damaged childhood through a tumultuous young adulthood to become more than merely adept as a singer, an actor, a linguist fluent in six languages, a writer, a professor, a mentor, a legend, and a purveyor of poetry for presidents and world leaders. Her early memoir, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, began a literary publishing career that ended with a poem on behalf of the American people on the occasion of the death of Nelson Mandela, “His Day Is Done.” Her final public statement, via her Twitter account, sums up so much of what she has said and written for seven decades. She wrote May 23, “Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.”

According to the gospel writer John, Jesus gave the disciples a long (five chapters), urgent, passionate, prophetic last speech as they were gathered in the upper room that night before he went to the garden to be betrayed, arrested, tried, and executed. He began the farewell discourse by washing the feet of the disciples and concluded it with a poignant petitioning prayer. Like Maya Angelou’s last tweet and Randy Pausch’s last lecture, Jesus’ words were meant to be a legacy. They were for more than the ears of the immediate disciples.

Just hours from his crucifixion, Jesus focused on those things that mattered most from his entire ministry. For one last time, he wished to sum up and reiterate the things that were at the center of his life. Jesus spoke knowing that the Spirit, whom he has promised to attend the disciples, is already present and active in the hearts of believers and is more than able to keep his message alive.

The sum of Jesus’ message can be stated in two words: “Know God.” He had said earlier in his discourse in response to Philip’s request for Jesus to show the disciples the Father, “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been with you all this time? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).

Jesus’ final hopes are not a celebration of himself, but the recognition that his life and ministry are windows into God’s love and saving purposes. Jesus prays that people will come to know God through him.

We are too used to thinking of “knowing” in terms of data, such as knowing the multiplication table or the periodic table or Morse Code. Knowing God is not an intellectual activity. Knowing God has nothing to do with the cognitive domain. We may know some things about God, but that is not what knowing God means.

Knowing God is an experience that draws believers into a new reality. Knowing God changes, shifts, transforms people in such ways that eternal realities impinge upon temporal realities. God’s vision for love and justice and service is realized in relationships and communities of faith right now, not just at some far distant time. Our knowing God will be visible in the manner in which we love.

That commandment to love is also part of Jesus’ farewell discourse: “I give you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, so you also must love each other. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, when you love each other” (John 13:34-35).

That’s the contrast between God’s realm and the realm of human governance. When God’s rule is in full effect, everyone will love each other. The rule of the world is love yourself first and if there is any love left over, then you love other people. That’s why Jesus told his hearers the second part of the great commandment: “You will love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31). If we love our neighbor as much as we love ourselves, that is, if we accord our neighbor the dignity, the grace, the recognition of humanity that we expect to get and demand to receive, then we declare that our neighbor is our equal, not our inferior, not our superior, for we are all created in the image of God. Abusing another person physically, socially, mentally, sexually, psychologically, economically, or politically is an affront to God and an admission that we do not know God.

If truly knowing God is an attribute of a disciple of Christ, one of the original twelve or one two millennia removed, then that same approach is true for communities of disciples. Jesus prayed earnestly for the disciples whom God had given to him. “They were yours and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you.... I’m praying for them...because they are yours.”

It is hard to be prayed for. That suggests some sort of weakness, illness, need. Yet all of us, as the choir’s anthem several weeks ago affirmed, are “standing in the need of prayer.”

We routinely pray for our friends in long-term health care and those experiencing temporary physical need. We pray for health, for discernment, for release, for strength (as we have been praying for Meriam Ibrahim). We pray for safety and success, for ourselves and others. But to be the object of the prayers of other people is a very different experience. We have experienced the effect of prayer on our lives. We have felt spiritual energy that can only be explained as the work of God lifted up on the thoughts and words and sighs and tears of others.

It is a humbling, awe-striking realization to think that Christ two thousand years ago prayed for you and for me. He prayed for our strength. He prayed that we would truly know God. He prayed that we would withstand the pressures of the world, so many of which go against the ways of God by demeaning and debasing people by ripping their dignity and humanity from them. Jesus prayed for us because we all need God’s protection from our own worst impulses as well as those of other people whom God also created and loves. Jesus prayed for God’s grace and providential care. We can rely on it as he did.

Great divisions threaten the unity of Christ’s community more today than at any time in our memory, and seemingly as great as at any time in the history of the church. The poignancy of Jesus’ prayer that believers be one cannot be missed. He prays from the context of the profound intimacy which he enjoys with the Father and with the Spirit (variously described as advocate, companion, or comforter). The Trinitarian relationship gives a model for how Christians are to interact. Father, Son and Spirit are related but dynamically independent. But they are not necessarily identical in thought and practice. Yet together, following Christ’s lead, they provide a window in order to know God, the full God, the complete God, the God who creates, empowers and redeems the groaning creation, including human beings.

As we experience the work of the Spirit enabling us to love each other more perfectly and fully, we participate in the work of revealing God to the world. We need to keep open the window which Christ was. The Spirit helps us to see the dirt, the smudges, the grime that makes our windows less than useful in presenting God to the world, or for that matter, in knowing God ourselves. May we confess our dirty windows and seek Christ’s forgiving Windex wipe.

May we know God through Christ, who has shown God to us. May the world see Christ in us and know God through us. May we be one with Christ and with each other, unified in love for each other, for creation, for eternity.

General source: Nancy J. Ramsey, “John 17:1-11, Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Lousiville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), Year A, vol. 2, p. 538ff.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.

Copyright 2014 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.