2 Kings 4:42-44; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-21
What did you expect when you came today? I’m guessing that you expected the usual. Three hymns, some musical responses, some sort of special music, offering and prayers, fantastic organ music, and another stellar sermon. Right? I hope the sermon is stellar. We’ll know in 18 minutes.
Did you expect to be spiritually fed? Did you expect to be blessed by what transpires here? Did you pray last night or this morning that God might use the words spoken, the songs sung, the prayers offered, the people present to do something blessed for someone in these seats or outside of these walls? Did you expect the Spirit to be present powerfully?
I’m sure each of us expected something. Did we expect enough? The account in John’s gospel about the feeding of the 5,000 and the brief account in 2 Kings both deal with low expectations. Neither the disciples with their five loaves and two fish nor Elisha’s servant with the donated 20 barley loaves expect enough.
Why is it that we think God is stingy? Our God is not a parsimonious God. We are the children of a generous God. God fed the Israelites in the wilderness with manna for 40 years. No one had too little and no one had too much. Elisha’s mentor, Elijah, stayed with a non-Israelite woman in Zarephath. She had enough flour and oil to make one dinner’s worth of bread. Neither the flour nor the oil ran out and the widow, her son, and Elijah ate for many days (1 Kings 17:8-16). God delivers what is necessary when it is needed.
I think that we are afraid of plenty. That is, afraid of the plenty that God wants to give us. The plenty that God wants to hand us isn’t a free handout. It’s a burden. That’s how we feel. The love, the mercy, the grace, the redemption that God wants to give us is a burden because we have to act responsibly with it. We have to receive it. We have to respond to it. All that God lavishes on us can’t be stored up, set aside for a rainy day.
We say the words quickly and absent-mindedly, but every time we say the Lord’s Prayer we are hit square in the gut with one aspect of the burden of God’s generosity: “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” This responsibility gets to us in other ways. Be merciful as you have received mercy. Do to others as you would have them do to you. You have received without having to pay, therefore, give without demanding payment.
Our three verses about Elisha and bread don’t deny the presence of suffering. God does not ignore suffering. God may not always address it in the ways we humans being think that it needs to be addressed. Suffering does exist. And it is not just attacks in movie theaters or car bombings or Christian pastors accused of sedition by the non-Christian majority elite. Suffering isn’t only 20 hours a week at $7.35 an hour or having to buy school uniforms or choosing between food and medication.
Suffering is acute loneliness. Suffering is the inability to find a way to fit in with others. Suffering is ethnic or racial or gender discrimination. Suffering is fear of one’s own shadow. Suffering is having to hide one’s opinions, ideas, identity. Suffering is feeling so burdened by guilt and remorse that there is no hope. Suffering is not knowing that there is a God, and that God is truly gracious, desiring to give salvation to all who are moved by the Spirit to recognize and accept God’s redeeming work in Christ.
There is no scarcity of suffering. There is also no scarcity in God’s blessings.
People felt pretty low in the time that Elisha lived in Gilgal. The land was beset by a series of wars between Israel and Syria, and a famine as well. Suffering reigned. But the divine message is clear. It is signed in the name of the prophet: Elisha, which means, “God has granted salvation.”
Scarcity was the only game in town. The man from Baal-shalishah was tremendously generous. Elisha chooses not to receive the gift for himself but to offer it to God’s people in need. Elisha’s servant sees the 20 loaves as an impossibly small amount to meet the needs of a hundred people, the “sons of the prophets.” Elisha tells him to do it anyway. The people will eat and there will be leftovers. And it was so.
The disciples acted the same way with their trove of five loaves and two fish. The crowd was 5,000, as if everyone in Waverly had gathered at the high school football stadium.
We don’t know if Elisha’s servant was convicted by the prophet’s invocation of God’s word or if he simply acquiesced to the prophet’s command. The same wondering could be made about Jesus’ disciples. Did they believe or did they pout?
In both cases the word of the Lord is true. To try and figure out the mechanics of the miracles is to miss the whole point of either event. What is clear is that in the midst of human need an individual is generous in offering the best that is available and the gift is given to God’s people. The result is beyond human expectation. That is the point. God always works beyond our expectations.
So why don’t we raise our expectations? Who do we doubt? Why do we short-change God’s intent and ability to be generous, merciful, and gracious to us? In the words of British theologian N. T. Wright, “We have seen the future in the resurrection of Jesus and it is real.”
We are very good at budgeting our resources and our time with a careful eye to the limitations that we perceive. There are only so many hours in a day. There are only so many pennies in a dollar. There are only so many people. There is only so much energy and physical capacity. We go overboard counting the cost of doing anything and so we budget shortfall, and believing shortfall we lower our vision and reduce our passion.
We need to be honest about our needs – as individuals, as God’s people in this place. But we also need to break out of our self-imposed prison of poverty (in heart, soul, mind, and strength) and trust the unlimited God we serve.
God has called us to holy work of proclaiming the gospel for the salvation of humankind; sheltering, nurturing, and fostering the fellowship of the children of God; maintaining divine worship; preserving the truth; promoting social righteousness; and exhibiting the Kingdom of Heaven to the world. Yet we are afraid to ask God for the basic necessities that God provides.
When we are totting up our resources for any activity, we fail to include God’s contribution. How many times have we been contacted by a college, a charity, even a political party with the message that our gift will be matched two for one or three for one? God is the original match giver. Only we don’t know the ratio. We don’t know the threshold at which the match kicks in. We only know that we don’t have enough by ourselves. And we forget that God wants to use what we have and make it go farther than we can imagine.
You probably think that I mean money. Money is only one resource. God wants us to offer the best of everything we are as well as what we have. God wants our best faith. It is not too small that God can’t use it if we give it over to God. God wants our best praying, however humble and tongue-tied it might be. God wants our best attempt to grapple with the words we call the Bible and believe that the Spirit will take our scripture wrestling and use them to open our hearts and minds to new vistas of God’s activity in the world. God wants our best attentiveness to God so that God can make visible in small ways through us the grand and glorious love that God lavishes all around.
Elisha and Jesus may seem to be cavalier with the way they nonchalantly tell the folks around them to distribute the goods. The truth of the matter is that they are being very prudent. Elisha and Jesus are able to recognize the presence and will of God. Elisha and Jesus challenge us to put on prophetic eyes to see beyond worldly estimations of resources to God’s abundant blessings at work in the world. We can raise our expectations as well as discover how we can participate with God in holy work.
Who knows what will happen? And that’s all right when God is in charge. Let it be so! Amen.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Monday, July 27, 2015
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56; Jeremiah 23:1-6; Ephesians 2:11-22
No matter where Jesus and his disciples went, they could not escape the multitudes who ran after them. That only gave Jesus more opportunities to teach the people and be compassionate toward those in need. The compassion of Jesus stands out as the most remarkable feature in these two brief summaries of the Galilean ministry.
The second part of the reading is the conclusion to the first major section of Mark’s gospel. The emphasis has been on the declaration that Mark made near the gospel’s beginning, as Jesus came up out of the baptizing waters of Jordan: the Spirit was on him (Mark 1:10). And that’s the same message which Peter gave Cornelius the centurion following Peter’s revelation that the good news embodied in Christ was for Gentiles as well as Jews: “Jesus of Nazareth, whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit and endowed with power,...traveled around doing good and healing everyone oppressed by the devil because God was with him” (Acts 10:38).
In the first part of the gospel reading, Jesus has compassion on the twelve whom he had sent out, his apostles as he calls them. He called them away for a debriefing, but they were soon recognized and the respite was over. In the second part of the reading it is the crowd which received Jesus’ compassion. The verses skipped between the two readings recount the feeding of the five thousand, so we know that Jesus wasn’t just found by a few nosy people. He was sought out by many through word of mouth. As he and the twelve tried to escape once more the sharp-eyed folks in the crowd noticed that he must have slipped away by boat. The word spread once more and the crowds were waiting for him when he was ready to put aground further along the lake shore.
Wherever Jesus went, people had needs. At times it seemed that their needs outdistanced his capacity to meet them. Yet Jesus always embraced the people and their needs. He dealt with pressing crowds, with random hands reaching out to touch his garments, with people who didn’t even feel good enough or connected enough to ask for his help.
You and I are a pretty self-sufficient lot. We don’t fend completely for ourselves like our ancestors did several generations ago. As the character in the decades old commercial said, “Mother, please, I can do it myself.”
The reality is that there are a lot of things we can’t do for ourselves. And a deeper reality is that there are a lot of people who can’t do as much as we can. I don’t mean physical things. I’m talking about mental, psychological, and spiritual things. Every newscast, every front page, every Internet news feed is filled with the reality of deeply seated pain, anger, anguish, fear, guilt, uncertainty, helplessness. It’s not only in the victims, but also in those who do unbelievable things like shooting up an armed forces recruiting station or a movie theater. It is also in the arrogance of demagogic politicians speaking without thinking through their thoughts as well as the knee-jerk acceptance of such political pablum without parsing it for truth and falsehood.
Human pain is as omnipresent as human beings. And most of it can’t be touched by acetaminophen or ibuprofen or stronger drugs. That’s because a lot of human pain is societal, institutional, systemic. It is because we human beings build walls. It goes back nearly as far back as people go. Abel was a shepherd. Cain was farmer. Rodgers and Hammerstein alluded to that in a song from the musical, Oklahoma, “The farmer and the cowman should be friends.” We divide. Me versus the world. Us and them. Democrats and republicans, owners and employees, government and people, slaves and free people, gay and straight, immigrants and native-born citizens, Protestants and Catholics, Israelis and Palestinians, creationists and evolutionists, Sunnis and Shiites, whites and blacks, jingoists and pacifists.
Walls divide, and that’s what Paul was trying to tell the Ephesians. Robert Frost’s great poem says, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” For Paul that something was Jesus and his gospel. Jesus does away with the us-them understanding of the world. There will be no walls when Jesus gets through with us. That’s our pain because it is hard to live without walls dividing us from other people. We want to be set apart, special, secure, pain-free. The trouble is that we can’t live in isolation, no matter how much we want to.
I love to drive down roads when there is little or no traffic. But that rarely happens. I dislike having to stop at intersections. It’s slow, it’s cumbersome. As the number of vehicles increases, engineers have developed new ways to keep traffic flowing smoothly. The criss-crossing levels of ramps ease the flow of traffic. Rotary intersections may slow traffic but by taking turns and cooperating, drivers don’t have to wait for light changes.
Paul strove in his Ephesian letter to create a sense of unity among the several classes of converts in the early church, particularly Gentiles and Jews, who had very significant differences. The crucial element is their common faith in what Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross did in giving everyone access to God. The Jews needed to get beyond the issue of “circumcision,” the symbol of belonging to Israel’s sacred covenant. Because of that exclusiveness, they were “without Christ.”
In a similar manner, many Gentiles excluded from God’s favor people of other religious traditions because they did not believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ, Son of the living God. The church has clung to that exclusiveness and still wrestles with what Peter wrestled with about letting in outsiders who are different.
The gift of God’s Spirit to create a new humanity through faith was universal. That is plain in the events of Pentecost. You and I have to keep thinking about the walls we keep trying to repair as fast as Christ is trying to remove them. This letter proclaims this message while at the same time making it abundantly clear that such unity can only be through faith in Jesus Christ, a faith that we keep trying to wall off to protect God while the world on the other side of our walls cries out in pain for justice, integrity, righteousness, humility.
There can be no closed doors in the fellowship of faith. The letter writer reiterates that while the doors of faith are wide open to everyone, the building to which we are moving in faith from many directions has Jesus Christ as its cornerstone. As so often in depicting theological concepts, the metaphor creates the situation of truth being found not in a conflicting state of either/or but of both/and.
Christ did not live an either/or gospel. He did not separate himself from the world. He stepped into the midst of it, whether it was a crowd on a hillside that needed fed with both teaching and with bread, a throng following him seeking healing, a crowd hugging the lanes of Jerusalem, or even hanging from a cross with arms spread wide saying, “Father, forgive.”
A number of years ago there were a growing number of homeless people in Evanston, Illinois. A Baptist church in that wealthy Chicago suburb decided to open its doors as a shelter and other Evanston church leaders were considering doing the same. When the Evanston city council heard about this, it attempted to pass a new zoning ordinance to wall the city off from homeless people by forbidding the use of churches as shelters for the homeless. The organizer of one shelter project had no complaint. Rather than opening up a shelter for the homeless, they hosted an all-night prayer vigil to which all were welcomed with pillows and blankets besides bulletins and hymnals. Christ tears down the walls we keep trying to put up.
Both parts of the gospel reading and the Ephesian passage challenge the church to live in the world, a world which is suffering and in need of healing reconciliation. To withhold the wholeness that Christ gives is to practice the religious malpractice that Jeremiah decried in his writing read earlier.
Let us begin by recognizing for ourselves that Jesus is the healer and reconciler that each of us needs. When we are healed and reconciled ourselves, Christ then can be a healer and reconciler through our activity in our community. The ways of life are crowded. And they cross every which way in an unorderly fashion. That did not stop Jesus. It should not stop us, either.
Amen.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
No matter where Jesus and his disciples went, they could not escape the multitudes who ran after them. That only gave Jesus more opportunities to teach the people and be compassionate toward those in need. The compassion of Jesus stands out as the most remarkable feature in these two brief summaries of the Galilean ministry.
The second part of the reading is the conclusion to the first major section of Mark’s gospel. The emphasis has been on the declaration that Mark made near the gospel’s beginning, as Jesus came up out of the baptizing waters of Jordan: the Spirit was on him (Mark 1:10). And that’s the same message which Peter gave Cornelius the centurion following Peter’s revelation that the good news embodied in Christ was for Gentiles as well as Jews: “Jesus of Nazareth, whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit and endowed with power,...traveled around doing good and healing everyone oppressed by the devil because God was with him” (Acts 10:38).
In the first part of the gospel reading, Jesus has compassion on the twelve whom he had sent out, his apostles as he calls them. He called them away for a debriefing, but they were soon recognized and the respite was over. In the second part of the reading it is the crowd which received Jesus’ compassion. The verses skipped between the two readings recount the feeding of the five thousand, so we know that Jesus wasn’t just found by a few nosy people. He was sought out by many through word of mouth. As he and the twelve tried to escape once more the sharp-eyed folks in the crowd noticed that he must have slipped away by boat. The word spread once more and the crowds were waiting for him when he was ready to put aground further along the lake shore.
Wherever Jesus went, people had needs. At times it seemed that their needs outdistanced his capacity to meet them. Yet Jesus always embraced the people and their needs. He dealt with pressing crowds, with random hands reaching out to touch his garments, with people who didn’t even feel good enough or connected enough to ask for his help.
You and I are a pretty self-sufficient lot. We don’t fend completely for ourselves like our ancestors did several generations ago. As the character in the decades old commercial said, “Mother, please, I can do it myself.”
The reality is that there are a lot of things we can’t do for ourselves. And a deeper reality is that there are a lot of people who can’t do as much as we can. I don’t mean physical things. I’m talking about mental, psychological, and spiritual things. Every newscast, every front page, every Internet news feed is filled with the reality of deeply seated pain, anger, anguish, fear, guilt, uncertainty, helplessness. It’s not only in the victims, but also in those who do unbelievable things like shooting up an armed forces recruiting station or a movie theater. It is also in the arrogance of demagogic politicians speaking without thinking through their thoughts as well as the knee-jerk acceptance of such political pablum without parsing it for truth and falsehood.
Human pain is as omnipresent as human beings. And most of it can’t be touched by acetaminophen or ibuprofen or stronger drugs. That’s because a lot of human pain is societal, institutional, systemic. It is because we human beings build walls. It goes back nearly as far back as people go. Abel was a shepherd. Cain was farmer. Rodgers and Hammerstein alluded to that in a song from the musical, Oklahoma, “The farmer and the cowman should be friends.” We divide. Me versus the world. Us and them. Democrats and republicans, owners and employees, government and people, slaves and free people, gay and straight, immigrants and native-born citizens, Protestants and Catholics, Israelis and Palestinians, creationists and evolutionists, Sunnis and Shiites, whites and blacks, jingoists and pacifists.
Walls divide, and that’s what Paul was trying to tell the Ephesians. Robert Frost’s great poem says, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” For Paul that something was Jesus and his gospel. Jesus does away with the us-them understanding of the world. There will be no walls when Jesus gets through with us. That’s our pain because it is hard to live without walls dividing us from other people. We want to be set apart, special, secure, pain-free. The trouble is that we can’t live in isolation, no matter how much we want to.
I love to drive down roads when there is little or no traffic. But that rarely happens. I dislike having to stop at intersections. It’s slow, it’s cumbersome. As the number of vehicles increases, engineers have developed new ways to keep traffic flowing smoothly. The criss-crossing levels of ramps ease the flow of traffic. Rotary intersections may slow traffic but by taking turns and cooperating, drivers don’t have to wait for light changes.
Paul strove in his Ephesian letter to create a sense of unity among the several classes of converts in the early church, particularly Gentiles and Jews, who had very significant differences. The crucial element is their common faith in what Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross did in giving everyone access to God. The Jews needed to get beyond the issue of “circumcision,” the symbol of belonging to Israel’s sacred covenant. Because of that exclusiveness, they were “without Christ.”
In a similar manner, many Gentiles excluded from God’s favor people of other religious traditions because they did not believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ, Son of the living God. The church has clung to that exclusiveness and still wrestles with what Peter wrestled with about letting in outsiders who are different.
The gift of God’s Spirit to create a new humanity through faith was universal. That is plain in the events of Pentecost. You and I have to keep thinking about the walls we keep trying to repair as fast as Christ is trying to remove them. This letter proclaims this message while at the same time making it abundantly clear that such unity can only be through faith in Jesus Christ, a faith that we keep trying to wall off to protect God while the world on the other side of our walls cries out in pain for justice, integrity, righteousness, humility.
There can be no closed doors in the fellowship of faith. The letter writer reiterates that while the doors of faith are wide open to everyone, the building to which we are moving in faith from many directions has Jesus Christ as its cornerstone. As so often in depicting theological concepts, the metaphor creates the situation of truth being found not in a conflicting state of either/or but of both/and.
Christ did not live an either/or gospel. He did not separate himself from the world. He stepped into the midst of it, whether it was a crowd on a hillside that needed fed with both teaching and with bread, a throng following him seeking healing, a crowd hugging the lanes of Jerusalem, or even hanging from a cross with arms spread wide saying, “Father, forgive.”
A number of years ago there were a growing number of homeless people in Evanston, Illinois. A Baptist church in that wealthy Chicago suburb decided to open its doors as a shelter and other Evanston church leaders were considering doing the same. When the Evanston city council heard about this, it attempted to pass a new zoning ordinance to wall the city off from homeless people by forbidding the use of churches as shelters for the homeless. The organizer of one shelter project had no complaint. Rather than opening up a shelter for the homeless, they hosted an all-night prayer vigil to which all were welcomed with pillows and blankets besides bulletins and hymnals. Christ tears down the walls we keep trying to put up.
Both parts of the gospel reading and the Ephesian passage challenge the church to live in the world, a world which is suffering and in need of healing reconciliation. To withhold the wholeness that Christ gives is to practice the religious malpractice that Jeremiah decried in his writing read earlier.
Let us begin by recognizing for ourselves that Jesus is the healer and reconciler that each of us needs. When we are healed and reconciled ourselves, Christ then can be a healer and reconciler through our activity in our community. The ways of life are crowded. And they cross every which way in an unorderly fashion. That did not stop Jesus. It should not stop us, either.
Amen.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, July 12, 2015
The Idolatry of Human Power
Amos 7:1-17; Ephesians 1:3-14
Human beings idolize power. We look up to people in high elected office. We envy bank presidents. We admire university chancellors. We hang on the words of great orators. We celebrate the accomplishments of surgeons and architects. We are awestruck by the creativity of artists, musicians and writers. We cheer great athletes.
For all our love of power – intellectual, physical, creative, inspirational – we hate power. We think that many politicians are more interested in themselves than in the country. We see bank presidents greedily perpetuating unjust economic mechanisms that feather the nests of the 1% to the detriment everyone else. University officials appear to be more interested in rankings and endowments than in individual students. Oratory is too often empty. Doctors and engineers are unapproachable. Much of creativity is beyond our understanding. Athletes too often are overpaid, immature brats.
These love and hates are generalizations over-limned for emphasis. Yet the kernel of truth underneath the extremes is that power is the object of both love and hate. Anyone wielding power may have very necessary skills, including vision, wisdom, and charisma, nevertheless they become lightning rods for all our dissatisfaction, anger, gullibility, frustration, and disillusionment.
Yet for all that we idolize human power.
The prophetic work of Amos takes place during the time following the dissolution of Israel following the end of the reign of Solomon, David’s son. The charismatic bonds of the house of David no longer held and the twelve tribes, experiencing uneven leadership, broke apart. While Judah was a viable nation, the remaining tribes loosely formed the Northern Kingdom, commonly called Israel. Both nations drifted from the spiritual roots of the Exodus, the nation building wilderness sojourn, and the kingdom building under Saul, David, and Solomon. In fact, the moral level of the people, following the example of most of the kings, reached the level of everyone doing what was right in their own thinking.
In the reading from the prophet Amos, we have three visions and two meetings. The visions from God which Amos saw were visions of judgment. Following the first two visions, the locusts and the fire, the prophet pleaded for Israel, asking, “How can Jacob survive” He is so small?” The Lord God relented.
Then comes the vision of the plumb line. While the judging of the previous visions have been general and unquantified, the plumb line of the vision shows how off the mark the nation has gone. King Jereboam and the people have deviated too far. His kingship will be annulled and his royal line destroyed.
The plumb line is a very accessible image showing that the people are not measuring up to God’s expectations. So God’s judgment will be brought down upon the proudest accomplishments of the kingdom. “The shrines of Isaac will be made desolate and the holy places of Israel will be laid waste.”
The word of the Lord which Amos delivers is that all our greatest achievements, all the things that we hold up as our crowning human glory, the things that we puff ourselves up about, the signs and symbols of how great we are in our own eyes – all these things are temporary. If God were to choose to do so, they all could be swept away in the blink of an eye. To use an image that Jesus used, they are grass that blooms at dawn and withers at dusk.
Amaziah, the head priest, heard about the words that Amos was speaking. He reported to King Jereboam that Amos was plotting against the king, that the king will die by the sword, and that Israel will be forced out of its land.
We can understand where Amaziah was coming from. He and the king were the two most powerful people in the nation. The priest’s response is both personal and public. Imagine how each of us might respond if someone came to Waverly declaring that God was going to tear down this church, the museum, the municipal building, the court house, and the country building, and then would go on to kill the mayor, the village council, the county commissioners, and other office holders. We would respond as Amaziah did.
Amaziah works from his power base. He immediately tells the king, and then, whether on orders of the king, or on his own authority, he confronts Amos. After all, he didn’t get to be the head priest by being a wallflower. He knows how to use his position. Coming on with full bravado, he shows just how big he is. He tries to banish Amos by sending him packing back across the border with Judah to speak his treasonous words there.
Were you paying close attention to Amaziah’s two conversations? Never once does he mention God. When threatened by Amos’ words he runs not to the sanctuary to pray but to the king to tattle. When he talks about the sanctuary at Bethel he calls it the king’s holy place.
Do you remember how Bethel got it’s name? Way back in Genesis, Jacob named the place where he slept and dreamed of God’s messengers ascending and descending a raised staircase. Then he saw the Lord standing on it promising to give the land on which Jacob was lying to his descendants who will be come as innumerable as the dust of the earth. Jacob awoke and knew that the place here he lay was an awesome, sacred place. “It’s none other than God’s house and the entrance to heaven” (Genesis 28:17), which is what the name “Bethel” means.
The descendants of Jacob were indeed living on the land that Jacob was promised, a land flowing with milk and honey as Moses had been promised. All that abundance had led God’s people to the point that they failed to recognize the presence of God. God’s house had become the king’s house, a human being’s house. The abundance of blessings had distracted the people from the God who provided them.
Amos refuses to be labeled as a professional prophet. He is a shepherd and a trimmer of sycamore trees. Amaziah’s order for him to leave Bethel is countermanded by God’s order to Amos to go to Bethel. As Amos stands before Amaziah and all his supposed power and might, Amos may well be realizing just how small the priest really is in the eyes of God.
We are small. We huff and puff, we billow our egos, but we are small. We allow the perceptions of our power and privilege to cripple our relationship with God. We look at what we have earned and bought and built and we fairly break our arms patting ourselves on our backs. We believe that it all belongs to us. We forget that the blessings that we have are “according to [God’s] goodwill and plan and to honor his glorious grace that he has given to us freely through the Son whom he loves” (Ephesians 1:7-8).
When we deny our smallness, we make ourselves into our own creator. When we take on that role, we cannot hear God’s word of judgment, repentance, and forgiveness for our lives. We cannot hear the words of Jesus, just as the Pharisees, Sadducees, teachers of the law and elders could not see God’s grace in the actions of Jesus or hear God’s words of grace in Jesus’ words.
When we carelessly or intentionally accord ultimate authority and power to human institutions we have broken relationship with God and have entered into idolatry. We live a falsehood. When we believe that we can control the activity of God, indeed God’s very will, through the institution of the church or through the auspices of positions within the church set aside for particular ministries and service, we deny the abundance of God’s grace and mercy lavished so greatly in Christ. God will do what God wills to do, through us or in spite of us.
We cannot save ourselves. That is why we again and again come to this table which is hosted by Christ, the Lord, the giver of mercy, who though he was rich, though he was the Son of the Father, gave up all that in order to become powerless and small that we might receive the greatness, the power, and the glory of God’s love in our lives. This table reminds us that God will be active in ways that do not match human ways. God’s power and glory are nothing like the power and glory we human beings we conceive. And for that we may be eternally grateful.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
General Resource: Douglas T. King, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), Year B, vol. 3, pp. 219-223.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Human beings idolize power. We look up to people in high elected office. We envy bank presidents. We admire university chancellors. We hang on the words of great orators. We celebrate the accomplishments of surgeons and architects. We are awestruck by the creativity of artists, musicians and writers. We cheer great athletes.
For all our love of power – intellectual, physical, creative, inspirational – we hate power. We think that many politicians are more interested in themselves than in the country. We see bank presidents greedily perpetuating unjust economic mechanisms that feather the nests of the 1% to the detriment everyone else. University officials appear to be more interested in rankings and endowments than in individual students. Oratory is too often empty. Doctors and engineers are unapproachable. Much of creativity is beyond our understanding. Athletes too often are overpaid, immature brats.
These love and hates are generalizations over-limned for emphasis. Yet the kernel of truth underneath the extremes is that power is the object of both love and hate. Anyone wielding power may have very necessary skills, including vision, wisdom, and charisma, nevertheless they become lightning rods for all our dissatisfaction, anger, gullibility, frustration, and disillusionment.
Yet for all that we idolize human power.
The prophetic work of Amos takes place during the time following the dissolution of Israel following the end of the reign of Solomon, David’s son. The charismatic bonds of the house of David no longer held and the twelve tribes, experiencing uneven leadership, broke apart. While Judah was a viable nation, the remaining tribes loosely formed the Northern Kingdom, commonly called Israel. Both nations drifted from the spiritual roots of the Exodus, the nation building wilderness sojourn, and the kingdom building under Saul, David, and Solomon. In fact, the moral level of the people, following the example of most of the kings, reached the level of everyone doing what was right in their own thinking.
In the reading from the prophet Amos, we have three visions and two meetings. The visions from God which Amos saw were visions of judgment. Following the first two visions, the locusts and the fire, the prophet pleaded for Israel, asking, “How can Jacob survive” He is so small?” The Lord God relented.
Then comes the vision of the plumb line. While the judging of the previous visions have been general and unquantified, the plumb line of the vision shows how off the mark the nation has gone. King Jereboam and the people have deviated too far. His kingship will be annulled and his royal line destroyed.
The plumb line is a very accessible image showing that the people are not measuring up to God’s expectations. So God’s judgment will be brought down upon the proudest accomplishments of the kingdom. “The shrines of Isaac will be made desolate and the holy places of Israel will be laid waste.”
The word of the Lord which Amos delivers is that all our greatest achievements, all the things that we hold up as our crowning human glory, the things that we puff ourselves up about, the signs and symbols of how great we are in our own eyes – all these things are temporary. If God were to choose to do so, they all could be swept away in the blink of an eye. To use an image that Jesus used, they are grass that blooms at dawn and withers at dusk.
Amaziah, the head priest, heard about the words that Amos was speaking. He reported to King Jereboam that Amos was plotting against the king, that the king will die by the sword, and that Israel will be forced out of its land.
We can understand where Amaziah was coming from. He and the king were the two most powerful people in the nation. The priest’s response is both personal and public. Imagine how each of us might respond if someone came to Waverly declaring that God was going to tear down this church, the museum, the municipal building, the court house, and the country building, and then would go on to kill the mayor, the village council, the county commissioners, and other office holders. We would respond as Amaziah did.
Amaziah works from his power base. He immediately tells the king, and then, whether on orders of the king, or on his own authority, he confronts Amos. After all, he didn’t get to be the head priest by being a wallflower. He knows how to use his position. Coming on with full bravado, he shows just how big he is. He tries to banish Amos by sending him packing back across the border with Judah to speak his treasonous words there.
Were you paying close attention to Amaziah’s two conversations? Never once does he mention God. When threatened by Amos’ words he runs not to the sanctuary to pray but to the king to tattle. When he talks about the sanctuary at Bethel he calls it the king’s holy place.
Do you remember how Bethel got it’s name? Way back in Genesis, Jacob named the place where he slept and dreamed of God’s messengers ascending and descending a raised staircase. Then he saw the Lord standing on it promising to give the land on which Jacob was lying to his descendants who will be come as innumerable as the dust of the earth. Jacob awoke and knew that the place here he lay was an awesome, sacred place. “It’s none other than God’s house and the entrance to heaven” (Genesis 28:17), which is what the name “Bethel” means.
The descendants of Jacob were indeed living on the land that Jacob was promised, a land flowing with milk and honey as Moses had been promised. All that abundance had led God’s people to the point that they failed to recognize the presence of God. God’s house had become the king’s house, a human being’s house. The abundance of blessings had distracted the people from the God who provided them.
Amos refuses to be labeled as a professional prophet. He is a shepherd and a trimmer of sycamore trees. Amaziah’s order for him to leave Bethel is countermanded by God’s order to Amos to go to Bethel. As Amos stands before Amaziah and all his supposed power and might, Amos may well be realizing just how small the priest really is in the eyes of God.
We are small. We huff and puff, we billow our egos, but we are small. We allow the perceptions of our power and privilege to cripple our relationship with God. We look at what we have earned and bought and built and we fairly break our arms patting ourselves on our backs. We believe that it all belongs to us. We forget that the blessings that we have are “according to [God’s] goodwill and plan and to honor his glorious grace that he has given to us freely through the Son whom he loves” (Ephesians 1:7-8).
When we deny our smallness, we make ourselves into our own creator. When we take on that role, we cannot hear God’s word of judgment, repentance, and forgiveness for our lives. We cannot hear the words of Jesus, just as the Pharisees, Sadducees, teachers of the law and elders could not see God’s grace in the actions of Jesus or hear God’s words of grace in Jesus’ words.
When we carelessly or intentionally accord ultimate authority and power to human institutions we have broken relationship with God and have entered into idolatry. We live a falsehood. When we believe that we can control the activity of God, indeed God’s very will, through the institution of the church or through the auspices of positions within the church set aside for particular ministries and service, we deny the abundance of God’s grace and mercy lavished so greatly in Christ. God will do what God wills to do, through us or in spite of us.
We cannot save ourselves. That is why we again and again come to this table which is hosted by Christ, the Lord, the giver of mercy, who though he was rich, though he was the Son of the Father, gave up all that in order to become powerless and small that we might receive the greatness, the power, and the glory of God’s love in our lives. This table reminds us that God will be active in ways that do not match human ways. God’s power and glory are nothing like the power and glory we human beings we conceive. And for that we may be eternally grateful.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
General Resource: Douglas T. King, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), Year B, vol. 3, pp. 219-223.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
An Inexhaustible Supply Keeping Us Supplied
2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43
A lot of discussion since the Great Recession of 2007 has focused on the 1% and the 99%. One percent of the American population controls somewhere between 80 and 90 percent of the financial assets of the country. None of us is part of the 1% (unless you are hiding it exceedingly well). That means that we belong to the 99%. And since most of us getting by relatively comfortably, the 99% includes a lot of people scraping to get by or not even getting by at all.
If a person working federal minimum wage of $7.35/hr has a full-time, 40 hour/week job, they gross a little over $15,000 a year. And many minimum wage jobs are not full-time. Little wonder Florence has to keep asking for peanut butter and more.
Two years ago the global Swiss bank UBS did a survey of more than 4,000 clients, all of whom had more than $250,000 in the bank and half of whom had more than a million dollars. The chief finding of the survey was that the majority of people with $1 million in assets didn’t consider themselves rich. Forty percent of those with $5 million didn’t think they were rich.
Just how much does it take to be rich? I know that when I was growing up my parents never carried more than a couple $20 bills at a time. Now I get seven or eight out of the ATM every time I go. And it buys about the same. So the definition of rich keeps escalating with the increases in the cost of living index. I get that. Even though it is increasing, where is the threshold between enough and rich?
I like to watch “House Hunters” on the HGTV network. I am aghast at the budgets that people have for housing. They think nothing of signing up for $400-500,000homes. There are a few of those kinds of homes in the Waverly zip code, but they aren’t in the neighborhoods I frequent. Every now and then in my walking I pass a house which I have seen in the weekly listings. Basic Waverly Estates or Heights homes are going for $80-90,000, what I would call a ridiculous price. The insides must be pretty nice, because some of the exteriors and yards leave a great deal to be desired.
In the UBS survey, when responders were asked what it would have to happen for them to think they were rich the leading answer was “no financial constraints on activities.” In other words, “rich” doesn’t happen when you get to the $1, 5, or $10 million level. Rich is when you got more coming in than you could ever hope to spend. Rich is an artesian well of money. It is bottomless and never-ending.
How did it get to be that way? An economist could explain it. I’m not an economist. My only skill is keeping the checkbook out of the red and balanced. However, my powers of observation suggest two possible causes. The first cause is that there is an increasingly growing selection of items to buy as well as more and more opportunities get services rendered in exchange for money.
The second cause has to do particularly with material items. Technology – even of things that aren’t electronic – is advancing faster and faster. The life span of items is getting shorter, because the next generation of the thingamawidget will soon be out with new bells and whistles which people are gullible enough to believe are absolutely necessary. Many things are supplanted rather than worn out.
The upshot is that it takes more and more to get more and more. People are rich only when they have enough to get everything and then some. And we are all caught up in it, whether we have $5 million, $500,000, or $50.
The apostle Paul is also not an economist, but he knows the value of things. As he encourages the Corinthian church to take up the special offering for the mother church in Jerusalem, he tells them, “A gift is appreciated because of what a person can afford, not because of what that person can’t afford, if it’s apparent that it’s done willingly.”
Paul wasn’t a certified financial planner, but he was savvy enough to know that a person shouldn’t measure his or her financial status by how much he or she doesn’t have or by how much others do have. Paul may have been talking about money, but he was not trying to be the Dave Ramsey of the ancient world. In fact, money was just an entry point into his real topic: the generous grace of God. As the New Covenant Church sign board recently posted, “Grace is what we receive, not what we achieve.”
Paul mentioned the Macedonian church as an example but not as a financial yardstick. He doesn’t want the Corinthians to trying to outdo the Macedonians. He doesn’t give out the total amount collected, or the average gift. It doesn’t matter. It is not a competition. Paul doesn’t want the Corinthian believers trying to compare themselves to any other church and then feel good or bad about it.
Paul wants the Corinthians to focus on one thing and one thing only: Jesus Christ the head of the whole church. “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.” Christ left the glories of heaven in order to spend time as the Human One, fully God and fully human, in the midst of our human goings and comings. He did it for one thing and one thing only, that we might come into the richness of faith.
There’s something that you won’t find in a bank book, on a chart of accounts, or on a balance sheet. You won’t find it on an insurance inventory. Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied with no end in sight.
Most of us say that we will save more when we have more. Or we will give away more when we get more. When we have a surplus, we will do something with it. But waiting for a surplus is not a good approach. Surpluses rarely happen. They are created with care and attention to detail.
We already have a surplus when it comes to the grace of Jesus Christ. It is an inexhaustible supply that is keeping us supplied day in and day out, year in and year out. The undercurrent of our age is that we never have enough. The security of life with God is that there is always enough grace and more beside.
That’s the truth to the manna in the wilderness that sustained the Israelites. They always had enough, not too little, not too much. That’s the message of the intertwined healing stories from Mark chapter 5, which were read earlier. Even in the midst of allocating grace to heal the young girl, there was more than enough to heal the hemorrhage of the woman.
Peter Chin hates to shop. Crowded grocery stores are painful. But he needed some chicken stock. Hoping to make a quick getaway, he picked an express lane with only two customers. But things weren’t moving. The couple in front were having trouble with their purchase.
Jesus was not selfish. He was not enslaved to his own convenience. Yes, the woman who touched his clothing was an inconvenience, but he took time for her all the same. The cross was certainly an inconvenience, but it didn’t matter to Jesus. He lavished grace sufficient for everyone. And he still lavishes his grace on everyone. It is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied.
Paul was right on the mark in telling the Corinthians, and, by extension, us, that they needed to measure their generosity not against others, but against Christ, who though “he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.”
Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied. May our wealth be our generosity.
General Resource: Homiletics, May-June 2015, pp. 68-70.
(1) Chin, Peter. “No such thing as convenient Christianity.” Third culture blog, Christianity Today, November 13, 2014.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
A lot of discussion since the Great Recession of 2007 has focused on the 1% and the 99%. One percent of the American population controls somewhere between 80 and 90 percent of the financial assets of the country. None of us is part of the 1% (unless you are hiding it exceedingly well). That means that we belong to the 99%. And since most of us getting by relatively comfortably, the 99% includes a lot of people scraping to get by or not even getting by at all.
If a person working federal minimum wage of $7.35/hr has a full-time, 40 hour/week job, they gross a little over $15,000 a year. And many minimum wage jobs are not full-time. Little wonder Florence has to keep asking for peanut butter and more.
Two years ago the global Swiss bank UBS did a survey of more than 4,000 clients, all of whom had more than $250,000 in the bank and half of whom had more than a million dollars. The chief finding of the survey was that the majority of people with $1 million in assets didn’t consider themselves rich. Forty percent of those with $5 million didn’t think they were rich.
Just how much does it take to be rich? I know that when I was growing up my parents never carried more than a couple $20 bills at a time. Now I get seven or eight out of the ATM every time I go. And it buys about the same. So the definition of rich keeps escalating with the increases in the cost of living index. I get that. Even though it is increasing, where is the threshold between enough and rich?
I like to watch “House Hunters” on the HGTV network. I am aghast at the budgets that people have for housing. They think nothing of signing up for $400-500,000homes. There are a few of those kinds of homes in the Waverly zip code, but they aren’t in the neighborhoods I frequent. Every now and then in my walking I pass a house which I have seen in the weekly listings. Basic Waverly Estates or Heights homes are going for $80-90,000, what I would call a ridiculous price. The insides must be pretty nice, because some of the exteriors and yards leave a great deal to be desired.
In the UBS survey, when responders were asked what it would have to happen for them to think they were rich the leading answer was “no financial constraints on activities.” In other words, “rich” doesn’t happen when you get to the $1, 5, or $10 million level. Rich is when you got more coming in than you could ever hope to spend. Rich is an artesian well of money. It is bottomless and never-ending.
How did it get to be that way? An economist could explain it. I’m not an economist. My only skill is keeping the checkbook out of the red and balanced. However, my powers of observation suggest two possible causes. The first cause is that there is an increasingly growing selection of items to buy as well as more and more opportunities get services rendered in exchange for money.
The second cause has to do particularly with material items. Technology – even of things that aren’t electronic – is advancing faster and faster. The life span of items is getting shorter, because the next generation of the thingamawidget will soon be out with new bells and whistles which people are gullible enough to believe are absolutely necessary. Many things are supplanted rather than worn out.
The upshot is that it takes more and more to get more and more. People are rich only when they have enough to get everything and then some. And we are all caught up in it, whether we have $5 million, $500,000, or $50.
The apostle Paul is also not an economist, but he knows the value of things. As he encourages the Corinthian church to take up the special offering for the mother church in Jerusalem, he tells them, “A gift is appreciated because of what a person can afford, not because of what that person can’t afford, if it’s apparent that it’s done willingly.”
Paul wasn’t a certified financial planner, but he was savvy enough to know that a person shouldn’t measure his or her financial status by how much he or she doesn’t have or by how much others do have. Paul may have been talking about money, but he was not trying to be the Dave Ramsey of the ancient world. In fact, money was just an entry point into his real topic: the generous grace of God. As the New Covenant Church sign board recently posted, “Grace is what we receive, not what we achieve.”
Paul mentioned the Macedonian church as an example but not as a financial yardstick. He doesn’t want the Corinthians to trying to outdo the Macedonians. He doesn’t give out the total amount collected, or the average gift. It doesn’t matter. It is not a competition. Paul doesn’t want the Corinthian believers trying to compare themselves to any other church and then feel good or bad about it.
Paul wants the Corinthians to focus on one thing and one thing only: Jesus Christ the head of the whole church. “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.” Christ left the glories of heaven in order to spend time as the Human One, fully God and fully human, in the midst of our human goings and comings. He did it for one thing and one thing only, that we might come into the richness of faith.
There’s something that you won’t find in a bank book, on a chart of accounts, or on a balance sheet. You won’t find it on an insurance inventory. Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied with no end in sight.
Most of us say that we will save more when we have more. Or we will give away more when we get more. When we have a surplus, we will do something with it. But waiting for a surplus is not a good approach. Surpluses rarely happen. They are created with care and attention to detail.
We already have a surplus when it comes to the grace of Jesus Christ. It is an inexhaustible supply that is keeping us supplied day in and day out, year in and year out. The undercurrent of our age is that we never have enough. The security of life with God is that there is always enough grace and more beside.
That’s the truth to the manna in the wilderness that sustained the Israelites. They always had enough, not too little, not too much. That’s the message of the intertwined healing stories from Mark chapter 5, which were read earlier. Even in the midst of allocating grace to heal the young girl, there was more than enough to heal the hemorrhage of the woman.
Peter Chin hates to shop. Crowded grocery stores are painful. But he needed some chicken stock. Hoping to make a quick getaway, he picked an express lane with only two customers. But things weren’t moving. The couple in front were having trouble with their purchase.
“I pursed my lips and peered around the customer in front of me to catch a glimpse of the couple who had so perfectly sabotaged my exit from this purgatory. I could see little of them except their dark curly hair and ill-kept clothes. Their heads were down as they continued to fiddle with their pocketbook, and the attendant took more canned items off the belt and placed them in a cart next to her. I didn’t really know what was going on, but frankly I didn’t care. They had more than 15 items and shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I had no compassion on people who couldn’t do something as simple as making a purchase at a grocery store. I rolled my eyes as the attendant took their final item off the belt. Finally, the couple shuffled on their way, heads down, their empty shopping bag swinging at their side. All that time, and all for nothing. I shook my head in disbelief, and cast a disapproving look at them as they walked away.” (1)When Chin’s got to the attendant, he discovered that the cans were baby formula, probably the wrong kind or size for the WIC program voucher, and they didn’t have enough cash to buy one can. Struck by the callousness of his own impatience, Chin ran through the parking lot to find the couple, but to no avail. As he collapsed in his car he felt ashamed. He realized that it wasn’t selfishness that had prevented him from helping this couple feed their baby – he’d have gladly paid for the formula had he been aware of what was happening. No, it wasn’t selfishness; it was, in his words, “enslavement to my own convenience.” With a more generous spirit he could have tried to understand what was happening to the couple ahead of him in line, instead of viewing them as obstacles to his quick departure from the store.
Jesus was not selfish. He was not enslaved to his own convenience. Yes, the woman who touched his clothing was an inconvenience, but he took time for her all the same. The cross was certainly an inconvenience, but it didn’t matter to Jesus. He lavished grace sufficient for everyone. And he still lavishes his grace on everyone. It is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied.
Paul was right on the mark in telling the Corinthians, and, by extension, us, that they needed to measure their generosity not against others, but against Christ, who though “he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty.”
Christ’s grace is an inexhaustible supply that keeps us supplied. May our wealth be our generosity.
General Resource: Homiletics, May-June 2015, pp. 68-70.
(1) Chin, Peter. “No such thing as convenient Christianity.” Third culture blog, Christianity Today, November 13, 2014.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Lament
Job 38:1-11; Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; Mark 4:35-41
Simply put, the Book of Job is about tragedy and how people respond to it. Since it has probably been a while since you looked at it, let me give you a brief synopsis.
The book has prologue which sets the scene. Job is depicted as “honest inside and out, a man of his word, who was totally devoted to God, and hated evil with a passion,” in the words of The Message version of the book. He has seven sons and three daughters, and owns seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred pairs of oxen, five hundred female donkeys, and a vast number of servants. To whom today could we compare him? Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, some sheik in Dubai? Perhaps.
One day the divine beings (angels) report to God. God points out Job to one of the divine beings, the Adversary, hassatan in Hebrew, from which we get the word “Satan.” God says, “There is no one like him” (Job1:8). The Adversary says that God has pampered him and protected him. If God were to take it all away, Job “will certainly curse you to your face” (1:11). God accepted the challenge with the proviso that the Adversary not hurt Job himself.
All manner of disasters strike: armies kill his servants and steal the livestock and a tornado tears through the house where the sons and daughters were gathered, killing them all. “In all this, Job didn’t sin or blame God” (Job 1:22).
The Adversary didn’t give up. “If you take away his health, he’ll break.” God said, “Okay, just preserve his life.” Job is best with terrible physical afflictions – sores and ulcers from head to toe. He responds to his personal and physical tragedies with great complaints, but maintains his spiritual integrity (2:10).
Three friends come along a try to pass the time with him, consoling him, counseling him, urging him to find some small sin in his past that is the cause for all his woes. Their empty platitudes are of no help and only intensify the agony Job is living through. They mock him and ultimately become hostile to him, accusing him of hiding his sin. Back and forth they bicker, Job all the while maintaining his righteousness, which becomes more and more self-centered.
A fourth individual had been listening to this banter and jumped in when the three gave up. He was angry with Job because he perceived that Job thought himself more righteous than God. He was also angry at the other three interlocutors because they hadn’t come up with an answer or proved Job wrong.
As the discussion gets more heated, Job wishes he could converse directly with God and get the answers to his questions and tell God a thing or two. The final unhelpful comment given to Job is that God simply is, so don’t ask questions.
Finally God breaks into the conversation out of a whirlwind. God’s comments start with today’s reading.
So for the first 37 chapters we see that tragedies happen and that people respond in a variety of ways: with ignorance, with platitudes, with recriminations and guilt-tripping, with arrogance, with anger, and with lament.
Soong-Chan Rah has been studying the necessity of lament in American society. Friday he wrote on the Sojourners magazine blog that lament is difficult for Americans because we tend towards triumphalism and exceptionalism.
“Triumphalism means that when we are confronted with suffering, we opt for quick fix-it solutions. Triumphalism means that we avoid the topic of race because it makes us uncomfortable and we want to resume our pursuit of the American dream uninterrupted by an awareness of systemic injustice that allows for the perpetuation of that dream. Exceptionalism allows us to claim that there is no such thing as implicit bias. After all, in an exceptional nation, we are all equal and we all have equal opportunity in an exceptional economic and political system.” (1)
He goes on to says that “Under the narrative of triumphalism and exceptionalism, we continue to weave a web of lies that creates a society where a terrorist act in Charleston, SC, can be just another news item. Lament interrupts the narrative of triumphalism and exceptionalism.”
There is an aura of triumphalism and exceptionalism in the discourse that Job is finally driven to in demanding that God be accountable to him for what has happened. If Job laments, it is because God has not supplied an adequate explanation. And certainly his so-called comforters have given him nothing other than salt for his wounds to his way of thinking.
Soong-Chan Rah points out that the opening two chapters of the book of Lamentations is “a funeral dirge in response to an unspeakable tragedy.” God’s chosen people have experienced an unspeakable tragedy of being invaded, overpowered, subjugated, killed off and exiled. The only people that remain are those who were already at the margins of society: widows, orphans, toddlers, senior citizens, the infirm and disabled. There is no hope, as is usually the case in the psalms of lament. In the Lamentation funeral dirge there is a dead body — of a nation, of an ideal, of a dream — and it is front and center. It cannot be avoided.
Soong-Chan Rah continues:
“When we lament alongside the grieving in South Carolina, we have to acknowledge that our nation’s history is littered with dead bodies. Dead bodies on slave ships of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. Dead bodies on the Trail of Tears as civilizations and people were wiped out. Dead bodies of four little girls and young black men. And now nine dead bodies in a church. We must deal with the dead bodies in the room with a funeral dirge.”
Lament is not a passive act. It is subversive, it is an act of protest. It is subversive because when the self-righteous call out for punishment and the death penalty, the family members of the nine people killed in the Mother Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston offer forgiveness in Christ, much as the Amish community in Lancaster County, PA, did several years ago when an individual sprayed a school room with gunfire killing a number of children.
“You took something very precious from me, but I forgive you,” Ethel Lance’s daughter said through tears. “It hurts me. You hurt a lot of people, but may God forgive you.” Speaking of her son Tywanza Sanders, who was killed trying to shield his great aunt from gunfire, Felicia Sanders said to the suspect: “We welcomed you Wednesday night in our Bible study with open arms. You have killed some of the most beautifullest people that I know. Every fiber in my body hurts. I will never be the same.” Alanna Simmons, the granddaughter of 74-year-old retired pastor Daniel Simmons, declared, “Although my grandfather and the other victims died at the hands of hate, this is proof that they lived and loved. Hate won’t win.”(2)
Lament is an act of protest because the marginalized need to be heard. The voiceless speak through lament. They cry out that things aren’t right, aren’t the way things are supposed to be. Lament voices the prayers of the suffering and therefore serves as an act of protest against the principalities and powers that have individuals and their social orders – spiritual, political, economic – in a headlock.
This obviously is not the sermon I had planned to write on the Job reading. Yet the Spirit has a way of knowing what is needed. It surely is a God-activity that the gospel reading is about the storm. We are living in stormy times. In the midst of gun violence, racism, and the widening economic gap between the many with the least and the few with the most, we are in a perfect storm. The boat of life is being tossed every which way. It feels like it about to be swamped, and we are afraid. Afraid for our lives, afraid for our nation, afraid for the world, afraid even for God.
God doesn’t promise us life without storms. God promises to go through the storms with us so we may come out the other side. In the words of Haruki Murakami, “When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person that walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.” Life in Christ is about changing who we are into who God means for us to be.
Like Job we demand answers. And God reminds us that our knowledge is so minuscule compared to God’s that our arrogance is but a puff of smoke, a blade of grass that sprouts in the morning and withers by sunset. May we, with the least of Christ’s sisters and brothers, truly lament the evil that surrounds us and bow before our God who seeks nothing but good things for all people. May we bear our nation’s pain. May we come through the storm as God’s transformed people.
In closing, I want to read a prayer for today by Jill Duffield, editor of The Presbyterian Outlook. Let us pray.
“Almighty God, our gathering together for worship and prayer is, this day, both an offering of praise and a show of courage. We come to this sanctuary mindful that even sacred spaces are not necessarily safe spaces. We bow our heads remembering our brothers and sisters in Christ whose last earthly act was prayer. We give thanks for the lives of your faithful servants: Clementa Pinckney, Cynthia Hurd, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Tywanza Sanders, Myra Thompson, Ethel Lee Lance, Susie Jackson, Daniel Simmons and Depayne Middleton Doctor. Comfort their families and friends and strengthen them in the difficult days that are ahead. We pray, too, because Christ commands us to, for Dylan Roof and his family. Bring peace, transform hearts, show us again your resurrection power in places we cannot imagine it can come.
“You tell us, Lord God, that perfect love casts out fear and the families of the victims of Mother Church and the people of Charleston have shown us what loving fearlessness looks like. Forgiveness has been extended, hands have been held, hymns have been sung, prayers have been lifted, unity has been demonstrated. The Goliath of hate and racism has not and will not win.
“People of faith and prayer, slain after extending Christ’s welcome in God’s house, have left a legacy that cannot be gunned down. Their lives of love and grace have begat love and grace. The gifts of the Spirit that you gave them – gifts of love, joy, peace, gentleness and goodness – appeared defeated on Wednesday night, but on Thursday when people came together and sang, “We Shall Overcome,” and on Friday when words of forgiveness were spoken and a vigil packed a coliseum, and on Saturday when crowds gathered in solidarity to say that symbols have consequences, and today as we and countless others pray for peace and commit to being peacemakers, we recognize the gifts you gave those nine are unstoppable, exponential, inevitable and victorious.
“God of justice and compassion, you sent your Son for the sake of the world you love. He was murdered, his last words a prayer for forgiveness. Three days later he rose from the dead, his first words ones of reassurance, telling us not to be afraid because even death had been defeated.
“Today we remember and proclaim: Violence and hate do not have the last word. The love of God made known to us through Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, always has the last word. The Spirit’s crop of goodness and love and joy and peace and gentleness will not stop growing. Now is the time for us – people of faith, brothers and sisters of every race and background – to recognize these unshakable truths and in the midst of the storm, trust the power of the One in the boat with us.
“We yield ourselves to you, Triune God, knowing you bring redemption, reconciliation and resurrection. Make us your witnesses. May your perfect love in us and shown through us, cast out fear and help transform the world.
“Amen.” (3)
(1) Soong-Chan Rah, http://www.sojo.net/blogs/2015/06/19/call-national-lament.
(3) http://pres-outlook.org/2015/06/prayer-for-sunday-worship-in-the-wake-of-the-charleston-massacre/.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
A Cedar Sprig
Ezekiel 17:1-24; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 4:26-34
There is more to Ezekiel than dry, rattling bones and flaming wheels. But the prophet’s message remains constant – judgment and hope.
The reading from Ezekiel expands today’s appointed reading from the lectionary. A lectionary is a series of scripture readings, over the course of three years, that attempts to hit nearly all the gospels and epistles, and the high points of the Old Testament history and prophetic writings. As the knowledgeable editors cut and paste the readings, not everything gets included. It’s a lot like film-making. The cutting room floor is littered with great material.
I have read for you the whole of chapter 17 rather than the assigned last three verses. While those three verses are wonderfully hope-filled, they are devoid of context.
Ezekiel is one of the most imaginative and creative writers among the prophets. His imagery is vivid and sensational, his keen mind is always on target.
The chapter contains a dramatic riddle and parable depicting two eagles. Ezekiel’s hearers wouldn’t have paid much attention to what he was saying if he had flat out said what God had laid on his heart and mind. The prophet snags his hearers with images that they all can tap into and so tease the mind into conceiving fresh perspectives on reality.
The reality is that fact that the forces of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon had swept through Judah and carried King Jehoiachin and others of the upper echelon of society into exile in Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar is depicted as the eagle with the long feathers and colorful plumage. The Judean king is the topmost branch of the cedar tree who is transported to the land of traders and the city of merchants, Babylon.
Nebuchadnezzar placed Jehoiachin’s uncle Mattaniah – renamed Zedekiah – as his puppet king on the throne in Jerusalem. As long as Zedekiah did what the Babylonian king demanded of him, Babylon would make no further intrusion in to the affairs of Judah. Zedekiah is depicted as a low-spreading vine that was doing well. That is reminiscent of an image in Ezekiel, as well as in Isaiah.
As Ezekiel tells it, another grand eagle, perhaps not quite as majestic as the first, appears on the scene. The vine – Judah – which is well cared for by the first eagle and prospering under its protection starts to hanker after the second eagle. This is Ezekiel’s way of saying that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
The second eagle is a new king in Egypt who is puffing himself up and gathering support for a possible go at supplanting Babylon as the reigning regional power. The vine, Zedekiah, is thinking that perhaps allying himself with the Egyptian monarch will get him a better deal than he currently has. Or so he thinks.
God then tells Ezekiel to ask three questions:
The obvious and expected answer to the first question is “No.” And the answers to the second and third questions are an obvious “Yes.” Ezekiel has set up his hearers to give those answers.
The vine – Zedekiah and Judah – will not prosper trying to go after the favor of the Egyptian king rather than enjoying the graciousness of the Babylonian king, even if his favor is that of a benevolent overlord. The “he” in the second question could go two ways. The “he” could be the Egyptian king who would have no second thoughts about running roughshod over Judah in order to take on at Babylon. Or the “he” could be Nebuchadnezzar who would revoke the goodwill relationship he established with Zedekiah and come down hard on him and the whole nation, stomping them into the ground.
The third question without a doubt signifies that Babylon will destroy Judah and blot it off the map.
Again, the Lord’s word came to Ezekiel and he goes on to explain the riddle and parable. Egypt and Pharaoh won’t save Judah. Since Zedekiah had broken the oath of loyalty he had given to Nebuchadnezzar, he is done for. He can’t escape.
Then Ezekiel explains on a deeper level. The solemn pledge that Zedekiah had given wasn’t just to Nebuchadnezzar. It was God’s solemn pledge that he had scorned and God will hold him accountable. “All his elite fighters along with all his troops will fall by the sword, and those who are left will be scattered to the winds.”
Now come the words of hope and promise. God – “I” – take one of the top branches from the tall cedar and plant it on a very high and lofty mountain – Zion.
Most Christians have moved beyond the simple level of ascribing every good and every evil event to the activity of God. Of course the problem with that approach to past, present, and future is that we make up the definitions of good and evil. That isn’t to say we don’t start with the basic notions that God gives in scripture. It’s just that we embroider them to it our needs, our philosophies, our self-aggrandizing attempts to make us appear better than we are.
We can take Ezekiel’s cause and effect understanding of God’s activity too far. In a world where holocausts happen, even and still in the geographical region of our scriptures, such an approach to divine justice can be lethal.
As Ezekiel sees things, Zedekiah was misguided. He, like so many government, business, or social leaders, was caught among advisers favoring differing views about how to deal with situations which admit no easy answers. Leaders are pulled one way and then another. You don’t have to be a leader to get caught in a labyrinth of opinions from which there seems to be no easy or just exit. It happens in families, it happens in ones own thinking over a thorny problem.
Ezekiel takes seriously Zedekiah’s oath, likely sworn in Yahweh’s name as well as the names of Babylonian deities. Ezekiel does not separate political strategies from religious commitments, as if one could so compartmentalize life as to relegate God to the latter sphere while operating in the former as if God did not exist or had no place there. That’s our tendency as post-modern people, to live from our own perspectives and not give much thought at all about how God fits into things.
For the prophet Ezekiel, life is a seamless garment. God is the essential thread without which the garment has no substance or form. Our ultimate loyalty belongs with God who has given us a covenant of life like no other through Jesus Christ. Without our commitment the garments of our lives unravel.
As the lowly mustard seed can grow into a large plant to shelter birds and animals, as God can take a cedar sprig and grow it into a flourishing realm of God’s presence, so Christ can make us into new creations. Under God’s divine sovereignty “the old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).
Thanks be to God.
(1) Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “Ezekiel,” The New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2001), Vol VI, p 1252.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
There is more to Ezekiel than dry, rattling bones and flaming wheels. But the prophet’s message remains constant – judgment and hope.
The reading from Ezekiel expands today’s appointed reading from the lectionary. A lectionary is a series of scripture readings, over the course of three years, that attempts to hit nearly all the gospels and epistles, and the high points of the Old Testament history and prophetic writings. As the knowledgeable editors cut and paste the readings, not everything gets included. It’s a lot like film-making. The cutting room floor is littered with great material.
I have read for you the whole of chapter 17 rather than the assigned last three verses. While those three verses are wonderfully hope-filled, they are devoid of context.
Ezekiel is one of the most imaginative and creative writers among the prophets. His imagery is vivid and sensational, his keen mind is always on target.
The chapter contains a dramatic riddle and parable depicting two eagles. Ezekiel’s hearers wouldn’t have paid much attention to what he was saying if he had flat out said what God had laid on his heart and mind. The prophet snags his hearers with images that they all can tap into and so tease the mind into conceiving fresh perspectives on reality.
The reality is that fact that the forces of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon had swept through Judah and carried King Jehoiachin and others of the upper echelon of society into exile in Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar is depicted as the eagle with the long feathers and colorful plumage. The Judean king is the topmost branch of the cedar tree who is transported to the land of traders and the city of merchants, Babylon.
Nebuchadnezzar placed Jehoiachin’s uncle Mattaniah – renamed Zedekiah – as his puppet king on the throne in Jerusalem. As long as Zedekiah did what the Babylonian king demanded of him, Babylon would make no further intrusion in to the affairs of Judah. Zedekiah is depicted as a low-spreading vine that was doing well. That is reminiscent of an image in Ezekiel, as well as in Isaiah.
As Ezekiel tells it, another grand eagle, perhaps not quite as majestic as the first, appears on the scene. The vine – Judah – which is well cared for by the first eagle and prospering under its protection starts to hanker after the second eagle. This is Ezekiel’s way of saying that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
The second eagle is a new king in Egypt who is puffing himself up and gathering support for a possible go at supplanting Babylon as the reigning regional power. The vine, Zedekiah, is thinking that perhaps allying himself with the Egyptian monarch will get him a better deal than he currently has. Or so he thinks.
God then tells Ezekiel to ask three questions:
- Will it (the vine) thrive?
- Won’t he tear out its roots, strip its fruit, and cause all the leaves of its branches to wither.
- When the east wind touches it, won’t it completely wither?
The obvious and expected answer to the first question is “No.” And the answers to the second and third questions are an obvious “Yes.” Ezekiel has set up his hearers to give those answers.
The vine – Zedekiah and Judah – will not prosper trying to go after the favor of the Egyptian king rather than enjoying the graciousness of the Babylonian king, even if his favor is that of a benevolent overlord. The “he” in the second question could go two ways. The “he” could be the Egyptian king who would have no second thoughts about running roughshod over Judah in order to take on at Babylon. Or the “he” could be Nebuchadnezzar who would revoke the goodwill relationship he established with Zedekiah and come down hard on him and the whole nation, stomping them into the ground.
The third question without a doubt signifies that Babylon will destroy Judah and blot it off the map.
Again, the Lord’s word came to Ezekiel and he goes on to explain the riddle and parable. Egypt and Pharaoh won’t save Judah. Since Zedekiah had broken the oath of loyalty he had given to Nebuchadnezzar, he is done for. He can’t escape.
Then Ezekiel explains on a deeper level. The solemn pledge that Zedekiah had given wasn’t just to Nebuchadnezzar. It was God’s solemn pledge that he had scorned and God will hold him accountable. “All his elite fighters along with all his troops will fall by the sword, and those who are left will be scattered to the winds.”
Now come the words of hope and promise. God – “I” – take one of the top branches from the tall cedar and plant it on a very high and lofty mountain – Zion.
“It will grow into a mighty cedar. Birds of every kind will nest in it and find shelter in the shade of its boughs. Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the tall tree and raise up the lowly tree, and make the green tree wither and the dry tree bloom. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will do it.”Ezekiel’s interpretation of his nationalistic parable has a singular perspective. Judah’s political woes can be understood only when the Babylonian imperialism is understood as the activity of the God of Israel, who judges Judah’s kings according to their faithfulness as regents for the only king, Yahweh, lord of the angel armies. Boston University Professor of Hebrew Bible Katheryn Pfisterer Darr writes:
“Ezekiel’s constant affirmations of Yahweh’s unrivaled sovereignty over history challenge ancient and modern readers alike to take with utmost seriousness the psalmist’s assertion, “The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Ps 24:1 NRSV). Yahweh is not indifferent to creation and its creatures. God wills that all our interactions – social, political, environmental, international – be governed by fidelity, wisdom, and an overarching commitment so to live that we participate in bringing about the kingdom of God on earth.”(1)That’s a lot of history. But without that history, the promise of the last three verses has little basis other than wishful thinking for a brighter future.
Most Christians have moved beyond the simple level of ascribing every good and every evil event to the activity of God. Of course the problem with that approach to past, present, and future is that we make up the definitions of good and evil. That isn’t to say we don’t start with the basic notions that God gives in scripture. It’s just that we embroider them to it our needs, our philosophies, our self-aggrandizing attempts to make us appear better than we are.
We can take Ezekiel’s cause and effect understanding of God’s activity too far. In a world where holocausts happen, even and still in the geographical region of our scriptures, such an approach to divine justice can be lethal.
As Ezekiel sees things, Zedekiah was misguided. He, like so many government, business, or social leaders, was caught among advisers favoring differing views about how to deal with situations which admit no easy answers. Leaders are pulled one way and then another. You don’t have to be a leader to get caught in a labyrinth of opinions from which there seems to be no easy or just exit. It happens in families, it happens in ones own thinking over a thorny problem.
Ezekiel takes seriously Zedekiah’s oath, likely sworn in Yahweh’s name as well as the names of Babylonian deities. Ezekiel does not separate political strategies from religious commitments, as if one could so compartmentalize life as to relegate God to the latter sphere while operating in the former as if God did not exist or had no place there. That’s our tendency as post-modern people, to live from our own perspectives and not give much thought at all about how God fits into things.
For the prophet Ezekiel, life is a seamless garment. God is the essential thread without which the garment has no substance or form. Our ultimate loyalty belongs with God who has given us a covenant of life like no other through Jesus Christ. Without our commitment the garments of our lives unravel.
As the lowly mustard seed can grow into a large plant to shelter birds and animals, as God can take a cedar sprig and grow it into a flourishing realm of God’s presence, so Christ can make us into new creations. Under God’s divine sovereignty “the old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).
Thanks be to God.
(1) Katheryn Pfisterer Darr, “Ezekiel,” The New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2001), Vol VI, p 1252.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Life Is Messy
Psalm 130; Genesis 3:8-15; Mark 3:20-35; 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
I know that some of you are observant of little details. I know that because you love to communicate those details to me, especially when I haven’t gotten them right. For which 79% of the time I am grateful. We won’t talk about the other 21%.
So how observant are you today? Did you notice that the color changed. What color? The color of the fabric hangings under the sconces. The colors change with the seasons of the church year, helping us to reflect on the nature of particular periods of time in the cycle of salvation history. If you were noticing, you saw that two weeks ago they changed from white to red. That was on Pentecost Sunday. Red is the traditional color for the Holy Spirit.
Now the color is green. We have entered a new season of the church year, a season that amounts to half of a year. The season may be called the Season after Pentecost (we’ll be using that language in the bulletin) or Ordinary Time (ordinary in the sense that there no special times like Lent or Christmas in it).
The first half of the church year (Advent through Pentecost) focuses on the story of God. We hear what God has done for us. We hear about Jesus, his birth, ministry, death and resurrection. We hear about the history of his relationship with his people. We hear about why we need Jesus. Beginning with this Sunday, the focus turns to us. Now that we know what God has done, we consider what we will do in response. The Season after Pentecost is about growing in our faith and action. Hence the green color. It is about listening to God’s call and going forth in faith.
It is humbling to remember that even after all God has done for us we are still sinners in need of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Many of the New Testament passages you will hear read during the Pentecost season focus on the great work we can and will do for God. We have been called to the holy priesthood of witnessing to God’s grace. We can, and do, fall prey to the possibility that we are something special, and when we least expect it God may use us for some exquisite piece of gospel work. Even us, who still have a part of us that is no different from those who have not yet devoted themselves to discipleship, that propensity to go off and do things our way rather than God’s way. The result of that is a messy life. Just ask our first parents, and their children. Just ask the Israelites idling in the Sinai desert like we do in a Columbus freeway tie-up.
Augustine, who became bishop of Hippo in North Africa at the end of the 4th century, wrote in the preface of his book, The City of God,
Peg Hoppes writes that she once knew a woman who wanted to be a Christian. She believed in Jesus, had even been involved in church at different times in her life, but wasn’t attending anywhere. She wasn’t ready to make a commitment. She had many excuses, but her real problem was that she did not think she was good enough to be in the presence of God and Christians. She wanted to get right with God first, then she might go to church. She was never ready. She never understood that Christianity was not a group of holy people, but a pack of forgiven sinners who gather to hear the Word preached and to receive the Sacraments so that they could know the love, mercy and grace of God through Jesus Christ his Son. The woman did not want to step into the presence of God until she found a way to hide her imperfections.(1)
God knows our imperfections. God sees into the very depths of our beings; we can’t hide anything from him. He sees beyond our masks; he has known us since before we were born. God knows, and God loves us anyway. The only difference between those who are inside the church and those outside are the ones inside know that they are there by God’s grace. Those outside are like Adam and Eve, trying to hide from the very God who would be their salvation.
As the psalmist wrote,
If you kept track of sins, Lord—
my Lord, who would stand a chance?
But forgiveness is with you—
that’s why you are honored.
God’s forgiveness is available for us. Not when we think we have earned it, not when we think we have finally rooted out all our sinfulness ourselves, not on our timetable, and not by dint of our effort. Without God’s forgiveness, messy life is even messier.
Brené Brown is a research professor in social work at the Graduate School of the University of Houston. She went into social work because she thought she could clean up some of human messiness. In the midst of her graduate research she discovered results that upended her ideas. It was shame, which translated into the fear of disconnection, the “I’m not blank enough” syndrome. Fill in the blank: pretty, tall, rich, smart, good. After six years of interviews and research, Dr. Brown realized that she had two basic groups of people: those who believed themselves worthy and those who didn’t.
As she studied those who believed themselves worthy she found several common elements: they lived whole-heartedly (courageously), they had compassion to be kind to themselves and then to others, they were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were, and they fully embraced vulnerability.
Brown says, “They didn’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating – as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, ‘I love you’ first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They’re willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental.”(2)
This is the world we live in, a vulnerable world, a messy world. As Dr. Brown notes, “We are the most in-debt, obese, addicted and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history.” It’s a vulnerable world and we try to numb it. The problem is that we cannot selectively numb emotion. None of us can say, here’s the bad stuff – vulnerability, grief, shame, fear, disappointment – we don’t want to feel these.
People who have no hope collapse under the weight of the mess of life. Trying to numb it all only intensifies the weight. Whole-hearted, courageous, compassionate, daring, vulnerable people have hope. In the words of the psalmist,
I hope, Lord.
My whole being hopes,
and I wait for God’s promise.
My whole being waits for my Lord—
more than the night watch waits for morning!
Because God is the author of salvation, because all life comes from God, because as we who are followers of Christ know that Christ’s mercy and saving grace meet us in our vulnerability, we can affirm the words of the psalmist, we can endorse them and proclaim them to one and to all.
Life is messy. We can’t clean it up ourselves. We live with it, live through it with the help of Christ who dove into human messiness wholeheartedly, with extreme compassion, and with flair. He joined us in our vulnerability, so that we may know true hope.
Israel, wait for the Lord!
Because faithful love is with the Lord;
because great redemption is with our God!
He is the one who will redeem Israel
from all its sin.
Brené Brown and Jesus would say, “You know what? You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” Jesus would add, “You are mine, because life is messy. I love you. Make the most of the mess.”
(1) Peg Hoppes, “A WORD FOR TODAY, June 3, 2015,” awordfortoday@yahoogroups.com.
(2) Brené Brown, “The power of vulnerability,” TEDxHouston, June 2010; https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability/transcript?language=en#t-1087072.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
I know that some of you are observant of little details. I know that because you love to communicate those details to me, especially when I haven’t gotten them right. For which 79% of the time I am grateful. We won’t talk about the other 21%.
So how observant are you today? Did you notice that the color changed. What color? The color of the fabric hangings under the sconces. The colors change with the seasons of the church year, helping us to reflect on the nature of particular periods of time in the cycle of salvation history. If you were noticing, you saw that two weeks ago they changed from white to red. That was on Pentecost Sunday. Red is the traditional color for the Holy Spirit.
Now the color is green. We have entered a new season of the church year, a season that amounts to half of a year. The season may be called the Season after Pentecost (we’ll be using that language in the bulletin) or Ordinary Time (ordinary in the sense that there no special times like Lent or Christmas in it).
The first half of the church year (Advent through Pentecost) focuses on the story of God. We hear what God has done for us. We hear about Jesus, his birth, ministry, death and resurrection. We hear about the history of his relationship with his people. We hear about why we need Jesus. Beginning with this Sunday, the focus turns to us. Now that we know what God has done, we consider what we will do in response. The Season after Pentecost is about growing in our faith and action. Hence the green color. It is about listening to God’s call and going forth in faith.
It is humbling to remember that even after all God has done for us we are still sinners in need of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Many of the New Testament passages you will hear read during the Pentecost season focus on the great work we can and will do for God. We have been called to the holy priesthood of witnessing to God’s grace. We can, and do, fall prey to the possibility that we are something special, and when we least expect it God may use us for some exquisite piece of gospel work. Even us, who still have a part of us that is no different from those who have not yet devoted themselves to discipleship, that propensity to go off and do things our way rather than God’s way. The result of that is a messy life. Just ask our first parents, and their children. Just ask the Israelites idling in the Sinai desert like we do in a Columbus freeway tie-up.
Augustine, who became bishop of Hippo in North Africa at the end of the 4th century, wrote in the preface of his book, The City of God,
“[The city of God, i.e., the church] must bear in mind that among her very enemies are hidden her future citizens.... In the same way, while the City of God is on pilgrimage in this world, she has in her midst some who are united with her in participation in the sacraments, but who will not join with her in the eternal destiny of the saints.”Life is messy. Jesus told us that.
Peg Hoppes writes that she once knew a woman who wanted to be a Christian. She believed in Jesus, had even been involved in church at different times in her life, but wasn’t attending anywhere. She wasn’t ready to make a commitment. She had many excuses, but her real problem was that she did not think she was good enough to be in the presence of God and Christians. She wanted to get right with God first, then she might go to church. She was never ready. She never understood that Christianity was not a group of holy people, but a pack of forgiven sinners who gather to hear the Word preached and to receive the Sacraments so that they could know the love, mercy and grace of God through Jesus Christ his Son. The woman did not want to step into the presence of God until she found a way to hide her imperfections.(1)
God knows our imperfections. God sees into the very depths of our beings; we can’t hide anything from him. He sees beyond our masks; he has known us since before we were born. God knows, and God loves us anyway. The only difference between those who are inside the church and those outside are the ones inside know that they are there by God’s grace. Those outside are like Adam and Eve, trying to hide from the very God who would be their salvation.
As the psalmist wrote,
If you kept track of sins, Lord—
my Lord, who would stand a chance?
But forgiveness is with you—
that’s why you are honored.
God’s forgiveness is available for us. Not when we think we have earned it, not when we think we have finally rooted out all our sinfulness ourselves, not on our timetable, and not by dint of our effort. Without God’s forgiveness, messy life is even messier.
Brené Brown is a research professor in social work at the Graduate School of the University of Houston. She went into social work because she thought she could clean up some of human messiness. In the midst of her graduate research she discovered results that upended her ideas. It was shame, which translated into the fear of disconnection, the “I’m not blank enough” syndrome. Fill in the blank: pretty, tall, rich, smart, good. After six years of interviews and research, Dr. Brown realized that she had two basic groups of people: those who believed themselves worthy and those who didn’t.
As she studied those who believed themselves worthy she found several common elements: they lived whole-heartedly (courageously), they had compassion to be kind to themselves and then to others, they were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were, and they fully embraced vulnerability.
Brown says, “They didn’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating – as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, ‘I love you’ first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They’re willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental.”(2)
This is the world we live in, a vulnerable world, a messy world. As Dr. Brown notes, “We are the most in-debt, obese, addicted and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history.” It’s a vulnerable world and we try to numb it. The problem is that we cannot selectively numb emotion. None of us can say, here’s the bad stuff – vulnerability, grief, shame, fear, disappointment – we don’t want to feel these.
People who have no hope collapse under the weight of the mess of life. Trying to numb it all only intensifies the weight. Whole-hearted, courageous, compassionate, daring, vulnerable people have hope. In the words of the psalmist,
I hope, Lord.
My whole being hopes,
and I wait for God’s promise.
My whole being waits for my Lord—
more than the night watch waits for morning!
Because God is the author of salvation, because all life comes from God, because as we who are followers of Christ know that Christ’s mercy and saving grace meet us in our vulnerability, we can affirm the words of the psalmist, we can endorse them and proclaim them to one and to all.
Life is messy. We can’t clean it up ourselves. We live with it, live through it with the help of Christ who dove into human messiness wholeheartedly, with extreme compassion, and with flair. He joined us in our vulnerability, so that we may know true hope.
Israel, wait for the Lord!
Because faithful love is with the Lord;
because great redemption is with our God!
He is the one who will redeem Israel
from all its sin.
Brené Brown and Jesus would say, “You know what? You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” Jesus would add, “You are mine, because life is messy. I love you. Make the most of the mess.”
(1) Peg Hoppes, “A WORD FOR TODAY, June 3, 2015,” awordfortoday@yahoogroups.com.
(2) Brené Brown, “The power of vulnerability,” TEDxHouston, June 2010; https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability/transcript?language=en#t-1087072.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2015 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)