Sermons From One Who is Longing for Home

What do you say?

2010-07-23T22:28:00.003-04:00

This sermon was preached at Wise Baptist Church, Wise, NC on June 27, 2010; and at my home church, Heritage Baptist Church, Wake Forest, NC on July 11, 2010.

I attended Meredith College for my undergraduate degree, and I majored in religion because I knew that I would be going to divinity school for my masters. If I had it to do all over again, I would choose a different major, maybe English or more likely history. You can blame my parents for the history buff I am. For as long as I can remember, they took my brother and I to various historical sites all over the country, and so many museums that I can’t begin to name them all. There were even two cross country trips to California to visit my grandparents; and if there was something historical to see along the way, we saw it. And it was fun. It was interesting to me. Couple that with all the PBS I watched since our television only picked up 7 channels—2 of them PBS; and my brain was so full of stuff, I don’t know how I ever sorted it out or kept it all straight.

But there is a trick to learning history that I picked up in my US Government class in ninth grade—it is all related. For every event, there is something that came before: a movement, a trigger, a revolt. And as my classmates in that Government class struggled to write every word out of the teacher’s mouth, I just kept track of the whys and hows and I did just as well on the tests without injuring my hand.

The whys of history. Do you know why you are attending a Baptist church today? I am Baptist because my mother is Baptist. And her parents, and their parents. It’s what I know, even if I never knew the history of Baptists—what they stood for and how the beliefs came into being—until I was in my early 20s in divinity school at Gardner-Webb University. There must not be very many Baptist historical sites for my parents to seek out. I only knew the obvious belief that separated us from other denominations—we dunked not sprinkled like that Methodist church down the road.

So this sermon is about the all-so-important Baptist belief of soul freedom. And it is part history lesson—maybe you won’t fall asleep on me. Even if you are not Baptist (and that’s fine! I am very ecumenical these days) there is the story of decision and confession that is something that all Christians have in common. And for that story, I direct your attention to Matthew 16, verses 13 through 20.

¹³ When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?"

¹⁴ They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

¹⁵ "But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?"

¹⁶ Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."

¹⁷ Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. ¹⁸ And I tell you that you are Peter, ^b]">[b] and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death ^c]">[c] will not overcome it. ¹⁹ I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be ^d]">[d] bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be ^e]">[e] loosed in heaven." ²⁰ Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Imagine this scene: a young man is working in his parent’s business. He is a young man, about 21 years old. I’ll call him Bill. When he was a young boy, Bill thought that he would become a teacher. This was due to his fourth grade teacher, Mr. Roberts who was the first male teacher that Bill had ever seen. But that year in Mr. Roberts’ class made a strong impression on young Bill, and from then on Bill told everyone that he was going to become a teacher. But fourth grade isn’t all that difficult, and by the time Bill got to high school where the learning was more difficult, he was an average student. Bill managed to get into one of the state universities, but college is a lot different from high school. Sometimes Bill had trouble completing assignments and managing his time, he sometimes got the words all mixed up when he read—possibly dyslexia that went undiagnosed. Some concepts were too difficult for Bill to learn. After a year, Bill was frustrated with being in college. He managed to get Cs, but it had taken a lot of work.

Bill had always helped his parents in their hardware shop. He could practically run the business himself—even down to the bookkeeping—he was always good with numbers. So, Bill decided that he would just drop out of college and help his parents. After all, they were getting older, and Bill had a girlfriend that he was planning on marrying. But in the back of his mind, Bill wished that he had a second chance at being a teacher.

One day a man showed up in the store. He was dressed in a suit—and his face reminded Bill of Mr. Roberts who had moved away some years before. Even before Bill heard the man explain he was a teacher to another customer in the store, Bill had already had this guy pegged. He knew he was a teacher. As the man came up to the cash register where Bill was working, he stopped and looked Bill square in the eye. He said, “I know you’ve always wanted to be a teacher. Come with me. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

And just like that, Bill removed his work apron and stepped from behind the counter, and left the store with this man.

Now put this Bill in first century Palestine and change his name to Peter. Peter started school like all the other Jewish boys in his community—at religious school, being taught by a rabbi. Peter and his classmates learned about God and the history of their people and the law. It was fascinating stuff to young Peter as he finally realized why they made sacrifices and kept the Sabbath holy and celebrated festivals. Peter looked at his rabbi and knew there was no other thing he wanted to do with his own life. But it was not to be. The rabbi only took the smartest of his scholars into more difficult teachings beyond the pre-teen years. So Peter finished religious school and went out to learn a trade instead. Along the way, Peter got married and worked to support his family.

Peter was a fisherman, and no one knew the waters of the Sea of Galilee better than Peter. He hated for anyone to tell him how to do his job. Peter was good at fishing. But in the back of his mind, Peter wished he could learn more about the God of his Fathers: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Was there something new he could learn?

One day, a man comes up to Peter, and Peter realizes that this is a rabbi. Rabbis were always walking around Palestine with a group of followers, but this man, this rabbi, had no followers with him. The rabbi looks at Peter and says, “Follow me. I will help you fish for people.” And Peter sees his chance. He immediately gets up and goes with this man; the man that we know is Jesus. Here is Peter’s second chance. And from the gospels, we know that Peter sure did learn a lot in those few years with Jesus.

Jesus called the common people of his day to follow him—not the rabbis, not the Pharisees, not the ruling Roman leaders. Jesus called his disciples from their ordinary lives. Those disciples learned a whole lot more about God that is for sure. Who would have ever guessed that a group of common men and women would walk with the greatest rabbi of all time? Not the brightest, not the smartest, not the richest, but everyday people. Those are the ones Jesus called.

Jump forward a century and a half to the 1500s; there was a man by the name of William Tyndale. Tyndale was an Oxford educated scholar and one day he saw “at first hand the ignorance of the local clergy.” It is reported that Tyndale declared to the ignorant priest, “If God spare my life, ere many years pass, I will cause a boy that driveth the plough [to] know more of the Scriptures than [y]ou.” And Tyndale’s life’s work was to see that the bible was translated into English. You see, before the invention of the printing press a century before Tyndale lived, there was no chance that an individual outside of academic institutions would have read the bible in their own language. All bibles were hand-printed in Latin. The priests in the churches all used Latin for the mass. Sometimes the common people in the church during service would only know parts of the bible from the artwork they saw in church or what their priest told them after confessing their sins. In school we would call that kind of learning “not from a primary source,” and it would be frowned on in our research papers. Tyndale changed that.

After the bible was translated into English, a literate person could understand its words. An illiterate person could learn to read from that bible. And so, a whole new world was opened to the common people. Men and women, boys and girls could read the stories and lessons of the bible and learn about God. This let the boy think about spiritual ideas while driving the plow. Suddenly, the bible was not just a book that only a priest or scholar could use.

Almost 500 years ago—a decade or so before William Tyndale, there lived a German priest by the name of Martin Luther. As you may know, Luther challenged the medieval theology of Roman Catholic Church—a theology that said that God’s grace was only accessible in the church and mediated through the sacraments by the priests—a little clearer stated: you had to go to church and take the sacraments given to you by the priest in order to have salvation. However, Luther said that grace is gained by an individual’s coming before God directly and personally and voluntarily. While this idea began the Protestant Reformation, if you add the translated bibles, it was a radical idea—suddenly the saving grace of God was personal, an individual act from an individual heart because the common people could read the Bible for themselves.

When Baptists came around a century later in the 1600s, they affirmed the individual over the institution, the personal over the sacramental, and direct access to God over an earthly mediator—the priest. This belief is still one of the foundations of the Baptist faith, and it is called by any number of titles: individual competency, the competency of the soul before God, personal faith, soul liberty, spiritual religion, believer priesthood, etc. It is Freedom of the Soul. Soul Freedom. And it gives you the right to answer Jesus’ question in Matthew 16:15, “’What about you?’ [Jesus] ask[s], ‘Who do you say that I am?’”

The writer of Matthew had a purpose in this gospel. The book is written to create a link between the Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah and this Jesus of Nazareth who is responsible for the New Testament. That is why we have the genealogy as the preface to this gospel so that we can link Jesus to the history of the Israelites. Peter’s confession in Matthew 16:16—that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God” is the key to the entire gospel. It is the hinge upon which the gospel swings; in artistic terms, it is the focal point. The reader of the gospel is supposed to say, “Aha! There it is!” After all, don’t you look for the writer’s purpose when you read? If you were a first grader, I would say yes because my son’s first grade Tuesday night homework was to read a children’s picture book and figure out the writer’s purpose—that is something I don’t remember doing until I was in high school, if then.

Anyway, Peter knew how to answer Jesus because Peter had been learning. Peter had followed Jesus. He heard the lessons taught—you know, the ones Jesus taught on the mountain—the Sermon on the Mount with all of those Beatitudes I had to learn as a teenager, and the stuff about loving your enemies, and being the salt of the earth, and how to pray to God, and storing up your treasures in heaven. Also, Peter had seen Jesus heal the sick, the demon-possessed, the paralyzed, the leper, and Jesus had brought a girl back to life. And Peter heard the stories—the parables that Jesus taught. Boy, those stories just suck you right in and then hit you upside the head with what you are supposed to learn from them. Also, Peter had been sent out to preach in the towns by Jesus, and Peter never took a preaching class and been critiqued by his peers. Oh the things Peter had witnessed! Peter had seen a whole crowd of people eat from one person’s lunch—and not just once—that had happened twice in Jesus’ ministry! Peter had even seen Jesus help a Canaanite woman, a person any other rabbi would have shunned. We won’t even mention all that Peter learned from the walking on water incident. I think that Peter would have learned by chapter 16 of Matthew’s gospel that Jesus was limitless. Jesus was divine. Peter confesses that Jesus is “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” For all of Peter’s rash statements later to come in this gospel: the fussing at Jesus when Jesus says he is going to Jerusalem to be killed, the whole misunderstanding of the transfiguration in the very next chapter, and even the denial of Jesus during Jesus’ trial—it didn’t change the significance of Peter’s answer to Jesus’ question. I guess this moment of Peter’s answer is the moment of his salvation— when he declared Jesus as the Son of God, Peter was saved.

Baptists like to use that word “saved” an awful lot. I’ve been in Baptist churches all my life, and I wish I had a nickel for every time I have heard it in a sermon—I would already have a couple of nickels here now. Yet, being saved is not the same experience for all Christians. Some have direct and dramatic encounters with God like Saul did on the Damascus Road. But not everyone. Some may sit in a congregation in a worship service and suddenly understand that they need to belong to God. But not everyone. Some may not know the exact moment they were saved. But not everyone. The common denominator in Baptist life is that our salvation is something that we choose—no one chooses it for us. My experience of salvation at age eight was of understanding that I needed to make a decision to follow Jesus. I walked down the aisle at the close of the service on the last night of the week at South Mountain Baptist Camp near Morganton, North Carolina. I later went down the aisle in my small country church as a demonstration of my decision—what Baptists usually call the public profession of faith. And I was baptized a few weeks later. What can a child of eight understand about salvation? I understood as an eight year old and as I matured physically, emotionally, mentally; so also I grew spiritually to understand better what it meant to follow Christ. But I think that my own decision was just a part of the journey of my faith. I think that I had decided to follow Jesus long before that—it was more of a process in my life. And so I am a bit unsure of the exact moment salvation came to me. Never believe that you have to know the exact minute and place you were saved—cause some preachers use that line. I’ve heard that and seen the reaction, and it just isn’t a Baptist principle to force a person to have the same experience of salvation.

Back to history, and I’ll tell you another Baptist thing that happened because of soul freedom. In 1609, John Smyth, the founding father of the Baptist faith, introduced a radical concept to the world--it was that baptism should be administered to believers only. Not many people of Smyth’s day would go that far. You see, baptism was something done at birth. The Catholic Church had infant baptism. The Church of England kept infant baptism after splintering away from the Catholic Church. Even the Protestant Churches of the Reformation kept infant baptism. Only a handful of Anabaptists believers—a sect in central Europe—had rejected infant baptism as a tenet of belief. John Smyth did a radical thing when he defined believers’ baptism and baptized himself and other members of his congregation in the early 17^th century. It was a dangerous thing to do, too. You see, when a baby was baptized into a congregation, that boy or girl was placed in the church rolls, their membership. The church had a record of everyone since all had been baptized at birth, and those records were a great resource for the tax collectors who came around. If a congregation decided to not baptize infants, well that is pretty threatening to a government. This new-fangled Baptist faith had already messed enough with the status quo when it let its members call for freedom from the Church of England. The Church of England and the ruler of England were one in the sense that they controlled people’s lives. The King of England was even considered the head of the Church of England. These early Baptist affected the king’s treasury AND demanded freedom from the state—the king of England—which sounds all too familiar this time of year—last week was the 4^th of July. And once again, these Baptists were standing on the principle of soul freedom. They felt they had a measure of authority about their religious life. And no other person on earth could take that from them.

Declaring our salvation in Christ does give us authority according to our passage in Matthew 16. After Peter’s confession, Jesus said:

Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

Authority—Peter’s got it. The Catholic Church uses this passage to show that Peter was the first pope, as if Peter is the rock himself because Peter mean “rock.” Although it could just mean a rock—in the Holy Land where this exchange is reported to have taken place there are a lot of rocks and there is a church there. What “this rock” means, I don’t know. However, I do know that the intention here is to say that this confession of Peter comes with authority. The early Baptists would have said that it is an authority to share this message—that Jesus is the Messiah the Son of the living God. Perhaps it also gave them that authority to defy the spiritual leaders of their day—maybe even defying the King. That kind of defiance can mean imprisonment and hardship and torture and maybe death. Those are some strong beliefs from this little minority of believers called Baptists.

There is authority in your story—your story of salvation. It may not seem impressive, maybe a simple declaration, a little push from the Holy Spirit. Your story doesn’t have to be Baptist. But it is the story of how you answered this question, “Who do you say Jesus is?” Your answer is your authority.

One of the best things I have done recently was last October when I went on the Heritage Baptist Church ladies’ retreat to Emerald Isle. As the mother of three young children, I can honestly say that a full night’s sleep is a wonderful thing. And being responsible for just yourself—no one else—is a great feeling from time-to-time. During the retreat at our last devotional time together, we were asked to say what we were thankful for—not including family (because that is the obvious choice). Now being an introvert, I just can’t come up with answers so quickly. I had to think about that one for a while—even beyond our devotional time. But the answer that came to me was freedom—probably because I experienced some freedom that weekend. I am thankful for freedom. I have the choice to believe in God, to serve God, to worship God as I want, to read the bible and interpret it myself. I don’t know why that thought popped into my head that day. But I have remembered it. And today, I’ll say that I guess I am thankful to be Baptist because to be Baptist is to be free. No one is forcing me to believe in a certain way. No one is forcing me to preach today. No one is forcing me to worship God in a certain way. No one is forcing me to give up my TNIV bible in favor of a King James Version. As strange as it is to say this in church, when it comes to salvation, it is all about me...and God. I have to make up my own mind. My faith is an individual decision as I answer the question of who this Jesus is to me.

When God Speaks

2009-02-12T00:23:00.002-05:00

When God Speaks

1 Samuel 3:1-20
February 1, 2008
Heritage Baptist Church

I am a night owl. I have no problem staying up until 1 AM. When I was on-call at WakeMed last semester, the early hours after midnight energized me at least until around 4:30 AM. My dad says I have always been like that. I was born at 8:31 PM, and Daddy told me that at midnight that night, I was the only baby in the hospital nursery who was wide awake.

This week I was thinking about how I would stay up reading at night when I was a pre-teen and teenager. Sometimes you just get into a good book and don’t want to stop. I have done that as an adult just this past week, but it wasn’t the joy I remembered as I struggled through the next day tired and sleepy. I don’t have the option of sleeping in anymore when I hear a voice saying, “I’m hungry. Mommy, where’s breakfast?”

I have been thinking a lot about how my sleep habits have changed. When I was a child, I didn’t want to go to bed. As a teenager, I wanted to sleep until noon. As a college student, I made sure that there were no 8 AM classes (and if there were, there was time for a nap later in the morning). As a summer worker at the textile mill, I slept all day because I worked third shift. As a part of an archaeology dig in Jordan one summer, I had to go to bed by 7 PM because wake-up was at 3 AM so that we could get our work done before the heat of the afternoon became unbearable. As a young mother, I didn’t get much sleep with a baby that wanted to be held all the time. Now, on Sundays, the early service is not so appealing, but I usually promise myself a nap later (I guess I treat it like an 8 AM college class). Thankfully, I have never suffered from insomnia yet. I know that it may be in my future at some point.

With all that sleep or no sleep, I have never heard the voice of God. I have heard my parents tell me to stop singing and go to sleep. I have heard my parents tell me to stop reading and go to sleep. I have to respond to a baby’s cries, so I can go back to sleep. No, God hasn’t come a callin’. It could happen or not. I’m not losing sleep over it though.

In our passage today, we don’t know if Samuel was asleep. He was lying down in the house of the Lord. Samuel served as a sort of apprentice to Eli. He lived in the tents that contained the Ark of the Covenant. And that was where Samuel was going to sleep, as he waited for the last drops in the oil lamp to burn.

We do not know how old Samuel is in this passage. He had been with Eli since he was weaned around age 2 or 3. Samuel did not know the Lord yet. More than likely he was still younger than 12, a very concrete thinker. Children do not grasp abstract thought until they are pre-teens. This fact does not mean that Samuel did not know who God was, but rather, Samuel did not have a personal relationship with God yet. He understood God as a child would.

It is a wonder that anyone at this time knew who God was. There was a drought—a drought of God’s Word. Verse 1 says that “in those days the word of the Lord was rare.” It was a time of major cultural, governmental, and spiritual upheaval. The Israelites were moving from the time of the judges into a time of the monarchy—being led by a king. There was war with the Philistines—a group of people who had settled along the coast of Palestine and kept venturing closer and closer to the hills where the Israelites lived. It was a time when the priests did not do the right things to lead the people. Eli’s sons, who were also priests, were wicked. They did not respect the offerings that were presented to God, and they did not respect God’s holy places. Eli knew the wicked ways of his sons and did nothing to stop them. So God uses a boy to reveal the future, a vision. God’s prophet Samuel hears a voice.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we could sometimes hear a voice from God? We struggle to determine the right course of action. We look to scriptures mired in one cultural perspective to find our way in our culture today. Just as the people in Samuel’s day needed a spiritual vision, we too need a spiritual vision. This is not a vision like a human vision of the future—thinking about where we will be in 5 years or 10. This vision is a spiritual vision—a plan for God’s kingdom on earth.

Times are difficult now. Even an optimistic person such as I dreads to see the front of the newspaper these days. There is great turmoil. People are losing jobs, losing houses, losing savings—it is not a pretty picture. It may be keeping you from sleep at night. Culturally and governmentally our nation is shifting as well. Can spiritual change be coming, too? It starts with a message from God.

Samuel heard God’s voice as he lay by the Ark of the Covenant—that box that contained the precious relics of the Israelites: the ten commandment tablets, Aaron’s rod, manna. Those things were the physical evidence of God’s covenant with the Israelites. It was a holy place for Samuel to be. He was physically in a place where God dwelled.

As a parent and a Christian, I know it is my responsibility to see that my sons are in places where God dwells. Church is an important part of our week. Reading from the Bible and discussing Bible stories are also important. Many people in our churches think that teaching children about spiritual things is the job of the church, the pastor, or the children’s minister. I am here to tell you that it is the parents’ responsibility. Do you know who your children look to for spiritual guidance? It is you as you sit in this church sanctuary. It is you as you bow your head in prayer. It is you as you talk with your sons and daughters about what it means for you to be in this place. It is you as your children realize how much and how important it is to be in the presence of God in worship. I am so thankful to be a part of a church that encourages children to be present in worship. One of the first things I was told on my first day at Heritage was that my 2 year old son would be welcome in the worship service. I used to worry that my son would be disruptive. It is difficult to keep children quiet when they are 2 and 3. But in the past few years, I have realized that I am teaching my children that worship and the worship service itself are important to me. I am hopeful that this lesson will be a life-long one for them.

Samuel was in the holy place of God. And God spoke. Samuel says, “Here I am.” And he runs to Eli. Poor, old, nearly blind Eli. Samuel thinks that Eli has called him. And in that case, he does what he should. What does Eli need? Eli may not have been very pleased that Samuel had awakened him. Maybe he said, “Go back to sleep, kid, you’re hearing things.” Eli wasn’t expecting God to speak. God had not spoken in so many years. And why would God choose to speak to a child, a child with no experience in receiving or conveying God’s message? More than likely, Eli just wanted to get some rest. And Samuel keeps waking him up.

I wonder if God has ever tried to tell you something. I know that we don’t usually hear an audible voice—at least I haven’t heard an audible voice from God, but there are other ways that God speaks. On Thursday, the News & Observer published a story in the life section about Gail Liston. Liston attends Hayes Barton Baptist Church here in Raleigh. The story was about how Liston felt God’s call to create a tapestry for the new Family Life Center. As Liston tried to come up with an appropriate design for the tapestry, she received God’s revelation for it. The article put it this way:

"Liston’s loom dictated the size. She couldn’t weave anything wider than 46 inches, so she decided on three panels. At first Liston though she might weave three crosses symbolizing the three crosses at Calvary, the site of Jesus’ crucifixion. But as she doodled on a tablet of graph paper she felt at cross—even one stretched across three canvases—wasn’t enough. One night, as she was sitting at the drafting table, her eyes wandered to a heart she had woven on a copper wire and had given to her husband on Valentine’s Day years ago. “Oh, my God,” she though. “That’s it. It’s a heart. That’s what God is—love.” At church a few Sundays later, a girl sitting beside her was filling out a puzzle in the shape of [a] heart. OK, Liston though, a good sign. Then everyone got up to sing the first hymn: “Joyful, joyful we adore thee; Hearts unfold like flowers before thee.” A second sign. By the time the children’s minister pulled out a heart made of construction paper that went along with the day’s message for the children, she had three signs that her design was on the mark.” (N&O, Thurs. Jan. 29, 2009)

Now you might think it was just a coincidence that all those hearts happened to appear at just that time, but I wouldn’t agree. Liston had her eyes open. She was looking for a revelation from God. I have done that, too. I do it most when I prepare sermons. It is amazing how illustrations will cross my path—like that one about Gail Liston—when I am writing a sermon. When we invite the Holy Spirit—God’s Holy Spirit—to come into our lives and reveal the path we should take or the words we should say or the design we should create, we receive revelation. It takes open eyes and open hearts and an awareness of God.

I am very sure that God speaks to us today. The big question is: are we actively listening?
Once Eli has been awakened by Samuel three times, old, blind Eli finally “sees” that it is God who is calling Samuel. Eli tells Samuel what to say: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” And God reveals a message for Samuel, a prophecy. This is the ordination of one of God’s prophets—this young boy in the presence of God.

I am always so blessed to see the children of this church participate in our worship time. When G___ plays the piano, when R___ reads scripture, when our youth lead us as they did a few weeks ago, and when S___ preached, it is a blessing to me. That is what worship is about; we all have gifts to bring. By letting our children participate, we are helping them to see that every part of our congregation is valued. When our pastor himself does the children’s message, it is even better because he is demonstrating that he is the pastor to the children as well as to the adults.
Now I will admit that I am a bit biased about children and how the church ministers to children. I have taken quite a few classes about preschool and children’s ministry. But I can look back to my own childhood, too. I know when I was valued in my church. I know from my mother and father’s example that church was important. I know when teachers took the time to value me. I also see times when ministry to children wasn’t valued. In our congregations, the children do not have a voice, but they are the future. Without children and ministry to children, a church cannot grow.

After all, there are bible stories besides this story about Samuel that convey how children are used by God. There is the story of Naaman’s wife’s servant girl who directs Naaman, diseased by leprosy, to the prophet Elisha to be cured. There is the story of David who takes five stones and kills Goliath, a Philistine giant who had been terrorizing the Israelites. There is the story of the girl Miriam who sees her brother Moses being pulled out of the bulrush basket by Pharoah’s daughter, and Miriam speaks to this royal woman and helps her mother have a chance to raise Moses without fear of his death. There is a story of a boy who willingly brings his lunch to Jesus so that 5,000 people may be able to eat. There is a story of a boy, seated in a temple, teaching the religious leaders about God, doing his Father’s business. Look around. Do you see our children and youth here today? God can speak to them even now. Further, God expects us to be like the children—open and receptive to God’s revelation. When the disciples came to Jesus in Matthew chapter 18 and asked him “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus called a little child and placed that child among them and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me” (v. 1-5).

There is more to this story. In God’s revelations to us, there is something that goes beyond the discovery of the revelation. We also must act or share what the revelation is. In the second part of our scripture passage, we have the message that God gives to Samuel. When Samuel heard the message that God sent him, I wonder if he understood it. It was not a message that I would give a child. It was disheartening, a message of doom for Eli and Eli’s sons. In the morning, when Eli asks Samuel what God has said, it is difficult for Samuel to tell Eli the bad news. Eli makes Samuel tell him anyway, and Eli accepts the message. It wasn’t anything new to Eli. In chapter two, an unnamed prophet had told him the same message. I wonder if Eli listened all the more when his own apprentice delivered the same revelation. After all, Eli could always argue with a grown adult delivering the message of doom, but the innocence of the child Samuel is something that Eli could not deny.

And the Lord was with Samuel and let none of Samuel’s words “fall on the ground” or go unheeded. Here is the first prophet. God established the prophetic era in Samuel. Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Jonah, Amos, Micah, John the Baptist, and so many others prophesy about what will happen because of sin, what will happen because of evil, and most importantly what will happen when God breaks into this world to set things right through Jesus. That is the message we need to share. You see, it is not so much that God does reveal things to the ones who seek God, but that the revelation is to be shared. We are called to tell others about God. We each may witness in different ways, but it is still our commission as Christians. To do that, we must make ourselves available to God.

Discerning the message from God and speaking the revelation is our call. Dr. George Mason, pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church in Dallas, TX says:

"This is one of the great tasks of the church in every age, and a key theme in the season of Epiphany. We depend on the same God that spoke from heaven in Jesus' baptism a word of blessing and call to do the same for us. We must help one another recognize the unique call of God to each soul. We only want people to serve by God's design. We want them to find the gifts God has given them and the way to use them best that God has made for them."
(http://day1.org/927-call_answerers)

What is your gift? How can it be used to meet the world’s need?

In the past, I have shared how I struggled to stand up and preach my first sermon to my worship class in divinity school. But it taught me the possibility of being a preacher. I felt the tug at my heart because preparing, writing, and even delivering a sermon gave me energy. I found out that I liked doing it as strange as that may sound to some of you. But I waited for nearly a year before I ever told anyone that it was the way I felt—how I felt about being called to the pastorate. Instead, I started looking for God’s revelation about the call. And I heard it. I heard it in sermons: sermons at school, sermons at my church, even in the sermons of the conservative preacher at my mom’s church—who surely didn’t mean for me to interpret his message that way! I heard it in songs, especially the song we will sing today “Here I Am, Lord.” Often those songs that spoke to me would render me speechless and in tears as I struggled with a difficult revelation that my path to the pastorate would not be easy. Thankfully, I have surrounded myself with supportive people who value God’s revelation.

Theologian Frederick Buechner has written the best quote ever that vocation is where our greatest joy meets the world's greatest need. God is calling you to a vocation of service for God. What is your greatest joy? Where does it meet the world’s need? Like Gail Liston, it may be a special project to inspire the congregation. Like our children participating in worship, it may be the chance to share a talent to help us grow closer to God. Like Samuel, you may have a message that needs to be shared with others. Like me, you may feel an overwhelming pull to the ministry. I will guarantee you one thing: God is calling each and every Christian to act, to serve, to witness. Do you have this passion; do you have this vision? Or are you sitting in a land where the word of the Lord is rare?

That is our challenge today. We need to get to a place were God’s word is not rare. We need to be saturated in the written word of God. We need to hear the message of God in worship, in song, in our church family. The world is counting on you.

What is God calling you to do today? Our church has ministries that need our support. We have a community that is dying to know that someone cares and understands. I challenge you to open your eyes and see that God is calling your name. God is saying, [insert names of people in the congregation here]. What is it that you are supposed to do? When God speaks, we need to answer.

It is my invitation to you to accept that God is calling you. If you have never asked God to be Lord of your life, the invitation is there. If you have never thought about the fact that God is calling you to service, then I invite you to think about how you can be involved in building up God’s kingdom. If you need to make a public decision, I invite you to do so. If you need to become a part of this body of believers, I invite you and welcome you to come forward.

Let us pray.
God, you know our hearts. You know the struggles that we have in this world. You also know that you have called us to be yours. Please help us to accept our call and act upon our call to service. We invite your Holy Spirit to dwell among us and touch our hearts. Help us to know our gifts and be able to find ways to use those gifts to uplift your kingdom. Amen.

Our invitational hymn is “Here I Am, Lord.” It is also my prayer that your eyes will be open and your ears will be in tune to God’s revelation. Please stand as you are able.

The Grace of God

2008-12-30T20:44:00.002-05:00

This is a sermon I preached at Millbrook Baptist Church in Raleigh on October 19, 2008. I was filling in for their senior pastor Rev. Andrea Dellinger Jones who I met in the summer of 2008.

The text is from Exodus 33:12-23.

Elsie Bailey was a teacher. Not just any teacher--a good teacher with a passion for helping her students to learn. On the first day of a class, Ms. Bailey stood before her students and helped them create a list of rules by which to run their class. Raise your hand before speaking. No passing notes. Keep your hands to yourself. No cheating. You know—those basic rules of respect in a classroom. Then Ms. Bailey made up some rules for herself. She promised to give her students the tools they needed to succeed in the sixth grade. She promised to teach them and give them her best for the school year.

And so, Ms. Bailey and the class would learn and grow together. It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes Ms. Bailey knew when to help a student or two out of a rough spot. When a student hadn’t gotten any sleep because the police were in their home investigating domestic violence, Ms. Bailey allowed homework to be turned in late. When a student couldn’t concentrate because she missed breakfast, Ms. Bailey gave the girl part of her lunch to eat that morning. It was those little things—those acts of grace—that set Ms. Bailey apart. The class kept the rules—they had learned them by heart because they would recite them together every day. Ms. Bailey kept the rules set for herself, too. And both students and teachers had a lot of faith in each other.

One day though, something happened. Some of her students got a copy of a test and figured out all the answers. On test day, everyone in class that day had all the answers, except one boy who had been absent the day before. Suddenly, Ms. Bailey had to confront the class who broke the rule not to cheat. Ms. Bailey took away the field trip that the class had planned because she felt that there had to be some consequence. Things got messy. Parents got upset; they turned up the heat on the principal of the school. The parents knew what a teacher was supposed to do. They weren’t very sure about Ms. Bailey’s methods—after all, no teacher had ever taught quite the way Ms. Bailey did.

Ms. Bailey was frustrated. Part of her wanted to just forget the rules she had made for herself since the students didn’t seem to care about keeping their rules. But that one boy now—he didn’t cheat. Robert was the only one that wasn’t making her upset. Ms. Bailey was going to let him and his mother go on the field trip with her. And she told Robert this plan. However, Robert knew better than to accept such an arrangement. He didn’t want to be singled out. As a student, Robert was kind of shy and often stuttered as the words came. He didn’t have all the right answers, and sometimes he lost his temper with his classmates. But in this situation, Robert was very thoughtful. He found courage to tell Ms. Bailey that he didn’t want to go on the field trip alone. Robert wanted his teacher to remember the rules she had made for herself and forgive the class. Perhaps her saving grace would change the hearts of a class in turmoil. So an extraordinary thing happened—Ms. Bailey changed her mind. The class and Ms. Bailey wrote the rules down again, and some peace was made with the teacher, with the students, and with the parents.

In our passage, the Israelites were in a bad situation. After God had led them out of Egypt, they just couldn’t stay on the straight and narrow path. God caused the Egyptians to free the Israelites—this is the redemptive act of the whole Old Testament. They saw God through Moses part the waters of the Red Sea, and they walked through on dry land. How much rejoicing—they were free! Glory be to God, they sang.

God sent manna and quail and eased their hunger. Water came from the rock and quenched their thirst. God told Moses to consecrate the people—the Israelites belonged to God, and God belonged to the Israelites.

Then they messed up.

While Moses goes to Mt. Sinai to receive the rules to live by—not just God’s commandments but also rules for daily living, building the tabernacles and ark, festivals, etc.—the Israelites are down in the valley making an image of a golden calf. The Israelites wanted a god (little g) to go before them—forgetting all about the God (big G) who already went before them as a cloud by day and pillar of fire by night.

As a child, I remember learning about this story of the golden calf and thinking of how the Israelites really blew it. How could they forget the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob so fast? What were they thinking?

But if you know the culture of this time, you know it wasn’t uncommon for people to have those forbidden graven images. The Egyptians did it. The Canaanites. You can almost see God in this passage as a mother figure here—shaking a finger and asking, “If the Egyptians and Canaanites jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?” God intended something special for the Israelites. They were to be God’s chosen people. There was a covenant.

Covenant. It is not something we understand very easily. The obvious example we have in our personal lives is a marriage covenant. Two people pledge to be a family through better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health…. Yet people do change and marriage covenants get broken. No. It is difficult for us to understand this covenant between God and the Israelites. This covenant was a collective covenant—made with a community, not between individuals. The Israelites were born into it. They didn’t have to accept God and be inducted or baptized—their very births gave them a special place in Gods’ kingdom. And at this place with Moses on the mountain, the Israelites at the bottom of the mountain almost lost the covenant God had made with them.

God wanted to start over and let Moses be the one, the only one, who has a covenant with God. But Moses didn’t accept that. He probably knew about his history all too well from the stories his mother told him. While sitting in her lap, do you think Moses’ mother told him of how Abraham left his people to go to a land that God would show him? Did Moses and his mother ever look at the stars and talk about how the Hebrews had flourished in Egypt because they were Abraham’s descendents? I bet Moses knew his family history. There were even some stories of failure—when anger, fear, or doubts clouded the judgment of those same ancestors. And so, on this mountain, Moses, the man who met God in a burning bush and told God that he wasn’t eloquent enough to speak to Pharaoh, Moses speaks to God in this Exodus passage of our Old Testament lesson. And a most extraordinary thing happens—God’s mind is changed. Moses convinces God not to give up on the Israelites. And God listens and agrees to renew his covenant with the Israelites.

God is pleased with Moses and allows Moses to see the glory of God in the end of the passage. What is this glory? It is forgiveness. It is grace through the renewal of the covenant. And all this is written on God’s face. Faces are funny things. Even when we lie about how we are feeling—“how are you today?” “fine”—we can still sometimes look at someone’s face and know the truth because many people are expressive. Yes, some people do put up masks; but you know that when they are most genuine, their expressions will be on their faces. My three year old son has a speech delay and goes to a speech therapist to help him work on his communication skills, yet he is the most expressive child with his facial gestures. He has learned some impressive vocabulary words thanks to the show WordGirl on PBS. The words are flabbergasted, glum, and pensive. He can’t tell me the meaning of these words—he doesn’t speak in sentences yet—but he can show me with his face. Flabbergasted. Glum. Pensive. Father Joseph Hallit explains that “In effect, the face is the meeting point of the person. It is the person. It is at once that which sees and that which is seen…. God…sees, He foresees, He provides. The glance of God is tied to His creative Word right from the beginning of Scripture. The divine Word creates. His face looks and sees that it is good, that it is beautiful.”[1] And the Psalms are full of references to God’s face. The psalmist writes, “My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face!’ Your face, Lord, I will seek. Do not hide your face from me” (27:8-9b). Yet no one could see the face of God and live. That is why Moses only sees God’s back. Sin prevents us from looking at God face-to-face.

It has been a few years since I have seen The Wizard of Oz, so my memory may not be the best at recalling it. But I remember watching it as a child knowing that the goal of Dorothy and her friends was to see the wizard. You remember what he is like when they first see him, right? A giant, smoky head bellowing commands. Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and especially the Cowardly Lion are all very afraid. You know how the real wizard in the movie is revealed at the end? It is his back that is seen first. And when you see his back, things aren’t quite as frightening. I’m not suggesting that the Wizard is like God, but there is a big difference in seeing someone’s face and seeing someone’s back. Personally, I wonder how the Psalmist could ask to see God’s face. I think we would be a lot like the Cowardly Lion, turning tail and running and crashing through a window to get away.

There are other things to remember as you approach this Old Testament text. We need to remember the intended audience. While the stories of the Torah—the first five books of the Old Testament—were oral for many years, by the time of the Babylonian exile the stories were in danger of being forgotten. God’s chosen people had been scattered. Synagogues had been formed as schools to help the people remember and to teach the children. And the stories were written down. And as they were written, the scribe could not help but interpret the old stories according to the current circumstance of being in exile.

If we look at this passage of scripture as a Jew in exile, we know that the nations of Israel and Judah failed. While they were prosperous for a while, corruption and disobedience to God had entered the nation. They were conquered just like the prophets said would happen. Never to see their homeland again, many Jews still wanted to follow God. This story of Moses and the changing of God’s mind probably gave them a lot of hope. After all, they wanted an end to the exile, and God’s mind could be changed—it had happened before. Who really knew what these Jews in exile were thinking as they read the newly written story of Moses on the mountain? We can only speculate. Did these people seek God’s face? Did they yearn for a renewal of the covenant even then when they were so far away from home?

As Christians, we can take this Scripture one step further. We have the example of the son of God, Jesus. Jesus’ face was seen. Since he was the incarnate God, it was possible to see his face. Now what are you thinking about when I talk about the face of Jesus? Is it that picture you’ve seen of the white-skinned Jesus with flowing hair looking slightly up toward heaven. Perhaps a halo of light behind his head. Without getting into a discussion on the features of that picture, I would ask you to picture the qualities of this Jesus instead. I imagine that Jesus had pleasant features that conveyed hope and peace to all he met. I even believe that the people Jesus met came away from the meeting with changed lives as well; they had seen the glory of God in Christ Jesus—and those stories are in this book, too.

One story in particular is the story of the transfiguration. You know the story. It is the one where “Jesus takes his disciples Peter, James, and John up on Mount Tabor to pray. While there the disciples are not expecting to glimpse the mystery of the Incarnation. How many times had these disciples prayed with Jesus in the months or years they followed him? Dozens? Hundreds? And never before had the appearance of his face changed or his clothes become dazzling white. Never before had Moses and Elijah appeared with him in glory. So it is hardly surprising that Peter, James, and John are half-asleep as Jesus prays through the night. Only when they fully awaken do they come face to face with mystery: they see Jesus in his glory, a glory that is his from before time, but which has been veiled from their sight until this moment, when they finally see him as he truly is…. [The disciples] know that the cloud signals the presence of God, and they know that no one can look on God and live. It is not simply because we are sinful and God is holy. No, it is because God is Real, and our finite minds can neither comprehend nor our frail bodies bear the eternity and majesty—the utter real-ness—of God.”[2]

God’s covenant was made real for us in the sacrifice of Jesus. As Christians, we believe that God will abide in those who accept Jesus as Savior. If we were to actually see the face of God, we would have no choice but to follow God. Instead God has given us free will and a choice to make concerning who we will follow. That choice to follow Jesus is our covenant. Once we choose to follow Jesus, we have the promise that God will never leave or forsake us. Just as Moses interceded for the Israelites, Jesus is our intercessor—he goes to God on our behalf. All of our sins can be forgiven, and we can have new life and a new promise of eternity.

While on this earth, we seek God. We can even say that we seek God’s face. Despite our sin, we know that there is a longing for more, a longing for God that exists. To the one battling depression who wonders if there is any hope out there, to the one going through a painful separation from a husband or wife, to the one who is insecure about whether he or she will be employed in the coming weeks, to the one who is worried about that bully at school—all these people and others like them are trying to make sense of their reality. When we turn to our Church, when we turn to the Scripture, we are like the psalmist calling out to God. We are the ones who want to remember Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount—“blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matt. 5:8).

In the Chronicles of Narnia series of books by C.S. Lewis, there are some really good stories that are told. Lewis first and foremost wrote the stories to stand as they are; but if you have encountered them—through reading or through the couple of movies that are out—you know that the Christian story is also being told. Aslan, the character in the story that represents Christ, is the focus of all of the stories. At some point in each one of the seven books, different characters must meet Aslan face-to-face. Every single time, they have their fears. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, there is a scene where the Beavers are telling the Penvensie children that they must go and see Aslan. Mr. Beaver says, “You’ll understand when you see him.”

“But shall we see him?” asked Susan.

“Why, Daughter of Eve, that’s what I brought you here for. I’m to lead you where you shall meet him,” said Mr. Beaver.

“Is—is he a man?” asked Lucy.

“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”

“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t’ safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

“I’m longing to see him,” said Peter, “even if I do feel frightened when it comes to the point.”

And the children in the story are frightened when they see Aslan face-to-face. I have read these stories to my boys several times in the past few years. And I was trying to think if there was a time in the seven books that the ones meeting Aslan were not afraid. And I don’t think that there is a place where one of the characters isn’t worried about that meeting. It is a serious thing to look on that face. To know that we are known by God—all of our shortcomings are there before us.

Where does that leave us today? As a body of believers in Christ, we know a truth about God that we need to share. For all of this talk about the face of God is really about the grace and forgiveness that God offers to all of us. God wants to make a covenant with you. The rules are in this book, in the Bible. We are called to follow Jesus and live our lives by the things Jesus said. And in that covenant, God offers the same free gift of grace that God offered when he renewed his covenant with the Israelites so long ago. There are rules we must keep and there is a promise given to us that one day we will see God face-to-face. Look in your heart. Is God trying to make this covenant with you?

In the baptist church today, there is a time of response. You know what is going on in your hearts. Sometimes our responses are private, and sometimes they are to be made public. As we sing our hymn of response “God of Grace and God of Glory,” I invited you to continue to respond. If there is someone who needs to make a public profession of faith or to renew his or her covenant with God, you can do so at this time. If someone would like to unite with this church to help him or her be accountable to the covenant, they may come forward as well. The invitation is to all of us though. God knows our hearts even as we seek to look upon God’s face.

Please stand as you are able and join with me in singing hymn number 420—“God of Grace and God of Glory.”

[1] http://www.melkite.org/OES-FaceofGod.htm

[2] “Waking to Mystery” by Kimberlee Conway Ireton in Weavings: A Journal of the Christian Spiritual Life. Vol 21, No. 1, Jan/Feb 2006.

God Knows

2007-09-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

I preached this sermon based on Psalm 139 on September 9, 2007.

Well, whaddya know? Truth be told, it is very little.

When babies are born, they don’t know how to do much. They cry. They eat. They sleep. Learning begins immediately as the baby learns the smell of his or her mother, the shape of the face of a caregiver, and how to eat from a bottle or breast. Learning starts and it does not stop. Through the basic milestones we go: first smile, first time rolling over, first time sitting up, first tasting of solid food, first tooth, first time standing, and first time walking. First word, first two-word sentence, first temper tantrum: all learned responses. The baby sees our eagerness for them to respond, and he or she quickly learns to make mom or dad happy.

But no one learns everything there is to know. Scientists say that we use only about 10% of our brains. Maybe it is a little more for some and a little less for others. But all of our knowledge is not a lot in the grand scheme of things.

Today, we are surrounded by knowledge. The internet has made finding answers so easy. If you did research even fifteen years ago, it might have meant hours spent in a library, chasing false leads, flipping through microfiche (like I remember doing in high school). If you wondered, “Now, what was the name of that movie—you know, the one with the guy and the girl and they go to that place?”—it might have taken days for you to remember or find someone who could refresh your memory. Now, you can google it. Answers are found at the click of the mouse. Sometimes it is helpful—being able to check medical symptoms, figuring out a substitute for an ingredient you don’t have on hand, communicating with friends across the world. Sometimes the internet isn’t so helpful—addiction to certain internet activities, chatting with people who are dangerous, being inundated with annoying pop-ups. It takes a bit of knowledge to navigate the information superhighway, after all.

But all this information, the potential knowledge, is never fully learned by a single person. Remember: we only use 10% of our brain. Most things in this world are things that you will never learn. All of our knowledge is like a drop of water in the ocean.

So, let us think about what you do know.

Think about the people you know. Maybe it is a mother, a sister, a child. Maybe it is a spouse. Maybe it is a close friend. Think about what you know about that person. Maybe it is a lot. Maybe there is not so much.

Think about other people you meet: acquaintances, the person bagging your groceries, the driver passing you impatiently as you travel down the highway. You do not know a lot about that person.

Think about the people you see when you go to an event at a stadium. How many hundreds or thousands of people there are, and you don’t even know a single soul.

Think about the people you see on television. When you watch the news and see people on the roofs of their flooded homes, or people lined up for food in a refugee camp in a war-torn area.

The fact is no matter how much you claim to know, it isn’t much. You are not meant to know every one of the 6.6 billion people on this planet.

But God knows.

God knows every facet of every person alive: every thought, every action, every cell function, and every breath. Even the billions who have died—God knows their entire lives. And it is not anything that we can ever get our head around. God defies our logic. If you hear someone breaking the third commandment and saying “God knows” to sarcastically answer a question, at least you know it is the right answer.

The psalmist who wrote the 139^th Psalm found a great wonder in the knowledge of God. In ancient Israel, religion was a corporate event. Worship was in a group: in a temple, synagogue, or family. Religion was contained in a society that had rules to keep the community in line with the law. It was about living in God’s community—the entire Old Testament is about that theme—except for one part. The Psalms.

From the Eugene Peterson’s biblical paraphrase, The Message, our passages in Psalm 139 read:

1-6 God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand.
I'm an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I'm thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
I'm never out of your sight.
You know everything I'm going to say
before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you're there,
then up ahead and you're there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
I can't take it all in!

13-16 Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.
17-18 Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
God, I'll never comprehend them!
I couldn't even begin to count them—
any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!

God knows each one of us. But how well do we know the presence of God?

The lectionary texts repeat every three years. So six years ago today, many churches heard the words of Psalm 139. How wonderful to acknowledge that God knows us! And then Tuesday came, and you know where you were on 9/11. The God who knows us also knows the aches of our heart.

Many times in life, God seems far away. As ones who hunger to feel important and understood, there are times when isolation and despair are present in our lives. Times of war, Katrina, Darfur—we question where God can be. In our own dysfunctional families, our illnesses, our depression—those make us question, too. We have our doubts, our anger, our disillusion—it is not necessary to hide any of our feelings from God because God knows our thoughts. And yet, God is there, all around us, as our comforter and protector. Maybe we can recite the prayers and teachings of our childhood and hold to some small belief that God just may be somewhere. But when prayers become more than words and belief becomes more than doctrine, that is where we encounter God. Sounds a little like faith, doesn’t it?

St. Patrick discovered the presence of God as a young man. As a boy, Patrick was not a particularly observant Christian, but he heard the teachings of his church and his devout parents. At age 16, Patrick was kidnapped by Irish slave traders and forced to work as a shepherd. Life was difficult for Patrick, but he remembered the prayers of his childhood. And the words led him to realize that God was with him. Patrick eventually escaped and reached his home again. But he had a vision that his Irish captors were calling him back, and Patrick went to Ireland as one of God’s reconcilers.

St. Patrick wrote a prayer, and it acknowledges the all-pervading presence of Christ. Part of it reads:

Christ beside me, Christ before me;

Christ behind me, Christ within me;

Christ beneath me, Christ above me;

Christ to right of me, Christ to left of me;

Christ in my lying, my sitting, my rising;

Christ in heart of all who know me,

Christ on tongue of all who meet me,

Christ in eye of all who see me,

Christ in ear of all who hear me.

The Celtic Christianity in which St. Patrick was a part recognizes that God’s presence is in our lives. The understanding of the Incarnation—the embodiment of God in Christ—is a central theme of Celtic Christianity. After all, Jesus is Immanuel—God who is with us. The Incarnation is difficult for us to understand. In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis bluntly said, “The Eternal Being who knows everything and who created the whole universe, became not only a man, but (before that) a baby, and before that a fetus inside a woman’s body. If you want to get the hang of it, think how you would like to become a slug or a crab.”

God came into this world with staggering humility and self-emptying poverty. Kristen Johnson Ingram puts it this way:

If Christ showed up in his true form, everyone would probably fall down as though dead. Who could see such a sight and live? Who could see God’s Son in his glory and then go to the market to buy…dinner, or take the clothes off the line, or balance a checkbook? We would faint with awe and be afraid forever to open our eyes.[1]

After all, this is the God who knows us. Truthfully, I am more than a little afraid to approach a God who knows everything about me. There are things that I would like to hide. It is embarrassing to admit that God knows my sins, and yet nothing is hidden from the God who knows. Think about the secrets in your soul—you know what I am talking about, don’t you?

The world doesn’t want a God who knows. So God came as a baby—a baby who knew little. The baby cried to let his mother know what he wanted. The baby cooed. The baby rolled over. The baby got his first tooth. The baby learned to speak.

The baby grew into a toddler. The toddler grew into a boy. The boy followed his mother around as she prepared meals, visited friends, carried water. The boy followed his dad around as he worked on his projects—observing as children instinctively do.

The boy’s mother and father knew who he was. Others discovered it, too, starting with Simeon and Anna in the temple when this boy was just days old.

The boy was different. He was teaching in the temple at age 12—doing his Father’s business, or so he said. As a man, this Jesus was baptized and called out disciples. He went around healing the sick, casting out demons, loving people. And in John 10:30, this man, the former baby held in Mary’s arms, says that he and God are one. If that is true, Jesus could see into the hearts of the people around him. And suddenly, things are different. We don’t want to be known like that—the Jews didn’t. After hearing that statement, they took up stones to stone Jesus. They said it was because Jesus was blaspheming God, but maybe they got frightened by all that an Incarnation of God would know. We don’t want a man to say that he is God. You see, God knows. We have things in our lives that we don’t want to be made known. I don’t want you to look at my face, at my heart. This man will have to go. And he did go…to the cross.

Psalm 139 is a psalm of challenge and decision. Our mission, if we choose to accept it, is to decide whether or not we will open our lives up to God’s searching and knowing. Knowing, as depicted in this Psalm, is not about logic and reason; it is about knowing through relationships. And because we have been called to live in relationship with one another, it means opening up our lives to those around us—to feel vulnerable. It is not about knowing someone’s favorite food, the kind of music they like, or where they work—it is about truly getting to know one another: the dreams, the hopes, the fears, the longings, the struggles. God has given us our relationships and the possibility of knowing other people as a sign of the God who knows. After all, it is not enough to put the words of Psalm 139 in our heart: we must choose to do something with them in our own lives.

Maybe it is getting to know someone that you see every day but never speak to. Maybe it is acknowledging the service workers who work behind the scenes: the garbage collectors, the bagboy, and the janitors. Maybe it is getting to know the members of your family better, allowing older generations and younger generations to really sit and talk and begin to understand one another a little better. Maybe it is reconciling a hurt relationship that has been broken through misunderstanding. Maybe it is letting a church realize that we are a community of believers, and we have an impact on our community. Maybe we need to acknowledge that we need God in our lives, acknowledging God’s presence and seeking forgiveness. Whatever the Holy Spirit is leading you to do, make a commitment to know and be known.

Let us pray.

God, how wonderful that you know us that you seek to protect us and comfort us. How frightening it is to realize that you know our sins and failings, too. Help us to realize that you understand and care for us and that you desire a relationship with us regardless of the state of our soul. Amen.

[1] Ingram in “The Gamble” in Weavings Vol. 18, No. 6, Nov/Dec 2003.

Getting Down and Dirty

2007-07-11T11:24:00.001-04:00

I preached this sermon on Sunday. It was the first sermon I preached for my congregation.

I usually fill my sermon with stories, but this story is so powerful that you won't find many outside stories in it. It can speak for itself.

He had it all: power, prestige, position. He had the leader of his nation on speed dial. He won numerous battles. He had medals on his chest. He had wealth. And he had a problem.

In second Kings 5, we encounter this man. Naaman was his name. He was the commander of the army of the king of Aram. He was a great man and had the favor of his king because Naaman had won many battles. But the writer of second Kings puts one startling fact at the end of this list of greatness—Naaman has leprosy. If not for the leprosy, Naaman would have been a perfect man to the Jews who heard this story. Naaman’s leprosy would have negated all his greatness.

As a right-hand man to the king, Naaman could no doubt afford the best medical care. He probably tried all the creams and ointments that he could find. Maybe he even tried non-conventional treatment. Drinking spring water from a silver basin in the light of a full moon? I don’t know. Anyway, nothing worked.

But what was this that Naaman heard? There was hope for his full recovery?

In Naaman’s house, there was a girl. We don’t know her name. She was taken captive in one of the raids that the Aramaens had made. We don’t know her name. She was taken from Israel. We don’t know her name. But we do have her words. The young girl spoke to Naaman’s wife. Perhaps she was speaking her thoughts aloud one day. Perhaps she casually mentioned something. Perhaps she knew exactly what Naaman had to do to be cured. In verse three, we have the young girl’s testimony, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”

Word got to Naaman. Maybe Naaman’s wife was on the lookout for the miraculous cure that would make him whole and shared the news eagerly with her husband. Miraculous indeed! Someone who could cure! A prophet! It was worth a try.

Since Naaman had the ear of the king, he had a way to get to Israel. The king of Aram even paved the way. But what irony! Think about it: the girl had been abducted from Israel during one of the Aramean raids, yet here came an envoy from the Aramean king. No doubt the king of Israel thought it was a trick. When he read the letter, he was sure it was a trick. The Arameans were trying to cause a war! After all, they were the greatest military threat to Israel during this time. Here was a letter along with an offering to the King of Israel of 750 pounds of silver, 150 pounds of gold, and ten large rolls of the finest cloth with the request that Naaman be cured of his leprosy. The king of Israel was in a dilemma for sure. There is a reason the king of Israel tore his clothes. Naaman had already appeared at his doorstep with presents on the condition that a cure for leprosy be offered to Naaman. If Naaman came back and still had the disease of leprosy, someone in a high and powerful place would be angry. Someone might see it as an insult and declare war. How do you respond to a request like the one that came to the King of Israel when you know that you are “not God, to give life or death”?

Fortunately, for Naaman (and the king of Israel), Elisha heard this story from his house in Samaria. Elisha sends word to the king of Israel wondering why he has torn his clothes and why the king did not send Naaman to Elisha. Finally, an answer for Naaman—an action he can take! So Naaman hurries to Samaria believing that Elisha will touch him and cure him. Maybe he will have the right words to cure him like a magic spell. Maybe he has just the right combination of ointments and creams to heal Naaman of leprosy. Maybe it will be a grand public display of a wonderful miracle. Maybe everyone will see Naaman cured.

Maybe Elisha won’t even see him? Naaman didn’t see that one coming. When Naaman gets to Elisha’s house with all his horses and chariots, Elisha doesn’t extend hospitality and invite Naaman into his house. Elisha will not even step outside to see Naaman. Elisha doesn’t even holler through the window. Elisha sends a servant to relay a message to Naaman. A servant—a person with the same station as the one who first told Naaman that there was a cure in Samaria. A servant—someone that Naaman would generally ignore because he was so much better than a servant or a slave.

But the message that the servant brings insults Naaman more.

Naaman is told to go to the Jordan River and dip seven times into its waters. Naaman is promised that if he follows the command, he will be cured. But the command makes Naaman angry. He wanted a public display to accompany the miracle, not a private ritual. He didn’t particularly think that the muddy waters of the Jordan were superior to the waters of his own hometown. Maybe he should try dipping in those hometown waters first—at least the waters were less polluted and fresher (coming from the mountains of Syria). The Jordan just flowed from one tiny sea surrounded by mountains into a dead sea, a salt sea that gave no nourishment. Naaman, in all his power and pride, turns and goes away from Elisha’s house—and he was angry. Naaman felt that he had wasted his time.

Then the third servant speaks. It is one of Naaman’s own servants. No doubt this servant was with Naaman as he started out from his home, anxious to find a cure in Israel. Then the servant was with Naaman as he heard that Elisha was his miracle man, and Naaman went to Samaria happy to have tracked down his deliverer at last. And now, the servant, seeing Naaman in a rage and ready to go home in despair, speaks. “What could it hurt to try the thing that Elisha’s servant has said for you to do?” After all, Naaman had tried everything. If Elisha had told Naaman to do a dangerous thing like wrestle a lion, or to go without food for 40 days, or go rock climbing without benefit of ropes, Naaman, in his bravery as a warrior, would have believed in the cure and done it at once. Instead Elisha told Naaman to take a bath.

What a bath it was! Seven times Naaman immersed himself into the Jordan. One time—the leprosy was still there. Two times—it is still there. Three. Four. Five. No change. Six. Still the leprosy was as worse as it had ever been. What did Naaman think? That from dip six to dip seven something would change? Well, it did. Seven was the number; and as Naaman came up out of the river, his flesh had been restored like the flesh of a young boy. Not only Naaman’s flesh was changed, however; he was also changed in spirit. It was a baptism of sorts for Naaman.

Dr. Wayne Stacy (who happened to be my preaching professor) tells a story of a baptism he once conducted. Stacy says:

I still recall the shocked look of disbelief and betrayal on her face. “I have to be what?” Julie was a rather sophisticated, urbane Episcopalian who had been attending our Baptist church for about two years when she finally decided to “take the plunge,” shall we say, and convert to the Baptists. But when I told her that she would have to be immersed, she balked. “You mean, I have to be dunked in a tank of water in full view of the whole church with my hair streaming down my face and my makeup running and without benefit of so much as a shower cap or anything…you mean, before God and everybody?...But it’s so…so…inelegant!”[i]

Naaman’s cure was inelegant, too. If you are someone like me who was brought up in a Baptist church and have been dunked, maybe you know a bit about how it feels to be a mess in front of everyone. I remember my own baptism that happened when I was 8 years old. I was scared. I could not swim, and I did not like to put my head underwater. The pastor that baptized me could tell I was nervous, and it made him nervous. He was going to say my whole name just before he dunked me, but he forgot my middle name. He was so apologetic about it later, but the name did not matter to me as much as what the baptism symbolized.

Really there is nothing that changes one through baptism—baptism is a symbol of the change that has taken place in one’s heart. Naaman’s change came when he decided to follow Elisha’s advice. The cure Naaman received only enforced his choice to follow the command. Indeed, after Naaman is cured, he proclaimed that the God of Elisha and of Israel is the true God, and Naaman is converted.

The irony of the seventh dip in the Jordan being the one that cured, the irony that it was servants who led the high and mighty Naaman to his cure are both in this story. But the greatest irony is in the conversion itself. The history as recorded in second Kings was written down when the Jews were far from their homeland. They had been carried into captivity in Babylon. An oral tradition of memorizing the Torah and histories was in danger of being lost as the young people naturally gravitated to the pagan temptations of their captive land. So the stories and histories were written down. And as the Jews read this story of Naaman, they could not help but identify with the young girl taken into captivity. She represented them. The girl knew the truth about the prophet and about God who delivers. The girl could have remained quiet and let her master suffer. She did not have to share the words about the prophet. Whether it was a conscious choice on her part or whether it was something that the girl just had to share, we do not know. But we do know that because of this young girl’s testimony, a Gentile was converted. Gentiles were not “the chosen people,” and that is the great irony for those Jews reading this story. It is a powerful testimony to God’s power, a power that is not bound by conventional thinking.

In Luke 4:27, Naaman the Syrian almost gets Jesus killed. No, it is not a ghost who comes across the centuries to haunt Jesus. It is the story of Naaman and the commentary that Jesus provides about the story that is so dangerous. When Jesus goes to his hometown and enters the synagogue on the Sabbath, he is asked to preach. After all, they knew Jesus. He was the hometown boy. Of course he wouldn’t preach anything controversial. After the reading of a passage from Isaiah, Jesus rolls up the scroll to begin his interpretation. One of the things, among others, that Jesus says is that there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Naaman, but Naaman the Syrian (a Gentile) was the only one that God cured. Jesus tells the people of Nazarath that he is the fulfillment of the Isaiah scripture. And then he says that he has come to help the Gentiles, too. Instead of Jesus coming to the chosen people, the Jews, according to Luke’s gospel, Jesus came for all the world. And the leaders in Nazareth almost push Jesus off a cliff for saying what he did. That is Luke’s gospel for you.

Where do we stand in this world with the message of second Kings 5 and with the message of Luke 4:27? It all depends on where we are in this journey of life.

The story of Naaman applies to our life. We have all been prideful at some point. We have ignored simple instructions that would saved us time in favor of some grandiose scheme. Some of us may be like Naaman at the beginning of this story. We may have a pride in our life that keeps us from believing that there is a simple thing called grace. Grace that is offered to us freely by God. Grace that saves us if we choose to accept it. Surely it isn’t that easy to be saved? Maybe we are supposed to wrestle a lion, or fast for 40 days, or go rock climbing without a rope. No, grace is that simple; it is just that our pride sometimes gets in the way.

Jesus said that unless we become like children, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. Children accept gifts. Watch them at a birthday party or at Christmas. A child will not say, “I’ve been too bad to accept a gift.” No, they go ahead and rip the paper off and pull the gift from the box and play with the toy (or end up playing with the box if they happen to find it more interesting). Many times, when God’s grace is offered to someone, they tend to think that it can’t be that easy. There is too much sin in their life for God to just give grace to them. I assure you, it is all too simple—that’s why it is revolutionary. That’s why it is Jesus called it the kingdom of God. Our way of thinking has to change. You have to be humble. You have to get down and dirty and acknowledge the way you are, but the rewards are great.

Or maybe you are at a different place. Like Naaman, you want that symbol of a new life. Baptism as Baptists practice it is inelegant. But it is powerful. We believe it is an outward sign of the change that has taken place in us because of our conversion. There is power in the being buried with Jesus through baptism and being raised with Christ from the dead so that we can walk in the newness of life. It is our adoption into a community of faith, a community of fellow believers. So maybe it is time for some of you to get down and dirty, without the benefit of a shower cap, and take the plunge.

But the message that speaks the most to me, is the last one—the one that comes up again in Luke’s gospel. Jesus came to save all the world, not just the chosen ones. Where are our words and actions when we see a world that needs to know how to be cleansed of sin? The young servant girl could have chosen not to speak to her foreign mistress. Elisha’s servant could have told Naaman to go away and leave the prophet alone. Naaman’s own servant could have held his tongue and let Naaman go away in a rage. They chose to speak, not knowing the outcome, maybe not even completely understanding their greater purpose in this story. We do not know their names. God does. And God knows your name. God knows when you are witnessing and telling your neighbors how to discover the kingdom of God.

If you are a Christian, God has chosen you; but that isn’t the end of the story. You have to share the good news, in word, in deed, in action. You may have to get down and dirty—to explain what God has done for you—but it is our command. Jesus did not say, “Maybe you could tell someone about me if you become a preacher or missionary.” Jesus simply said, “Go.” It may not be far that you have to go: across the street, to the telephone, across an office; but our command is clear, “go.”

Let us pray.

God, help us to see the simple message we must share. Help us to accept your free gift of grace. When we are prideful, let us remember that you want our obedience; and let us humble ourselves to do your work on this earth. Let us know the significance of the words “your kingdom come.” Help us to know how revolutionary our lives should be. In the name of Jesus I pray. Amen.

[i] p. 153 in Stacy, R. Wayne. “Baptism” in A Baptist’s Theology. Macon, Georgia: Smyth & Helwys, 1999.

Wisdom and Power

2007-05-20T13:31:00.000-04:00

Today I preached at the Meredith College Alumnae Worship Service. The sermon is based on Ephesians 1:15-23.

I was the child who wasted birthday wishes. Every year, when I blew out my candles, I wished for the same thing. And it was not something that could easily come true by extinguishing ten candles, or eleven, or twelve. Have you ever wished for something abstract? Something that cannot be measured? I used to wish for wisdom. Doesn’t that sound silly?

I never wished for a new bike, a puppy, or for my brother to stop pestering me. When the birthday cake was place in front of me with all the candles lit, I would close my eyes and silently say to myself, “I wish for wisdom.” To know why I did this, you have to know that I was one of those kids who went to church three times a week. I was the one that participated every day of Vacation Bible School. I was the church nerd who raised her hand every time the Sunday School teacher asked a question—and I knew the correct answer 99% of the time. When I wished for wisdom, I was remembering that it was the gift that Solomon asked for when God came to him in a dream as recorded in First Kings chapter 3. God blessed Solomon with so much more than wisdom, maybe I wanted to please God. Maybe I’ve been trying to do that my whole life—because I am a church nerd. Or maybe I just realized that Solomon got a package deal with wealth, honor, and long life thrown in with the wisdom.

So my birthday wishes were perhaps wasted. I did not become wiser simply by wishing for wisdom and blowing out a few candles. But I am not the only one to wish for wisdom. The writer of Ephesians had that same wish in the passage that was read a few moments ago. Verse 17 says, “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.” This writer is praying for the community of believers at Ephesus to be granted wisdom.

In the late summer of 1994, my parents brought me to Meredith College. It was a place where I would earn my college degree. I remember that heavy, leaden feeling that I felt in my gut later that night as the first wave of homesickness rolled over me. Whenever I went away from home for an extended period of time, I had always gotten homesick in the first week that I was away from home. I asked myself many questions: How would I make it four hours away from home for weeks at a time? Would I make new friends? Will my roommate like me? Are the classes going to be too difficult? How will I ever learn all the things necessary to earn my degree? My parents did not graduate from college—they did not even go to college. All their hopes and dreams were for me to succeed and earn my degree. So, without worrying too much about the questions that were in my mind, I set out on a journey to learn. I hoped to gain wisdom.

Along my journey, I found that it is not wisdom that one learns from attending a class, a lecture, or seminar. It is merely knowledge that fills our heads—at least until we take a final. Yet somewhere in my education here at Meredith, I found out that college did not teach me facts to recite. Instead, I learned that my college courses, so well taught by the faculty here, had showed me how to think and use the knowledge I had been given. I learned that my experiences were a part of learning. And that realization was the beginning of wisdom.

In the Ephesians passage, the writer has sent the letter to the churches around Ephesus. These are faithful Christians who know about Christ and have love for other Christians. The writer wants these churches to go beyond knowledge. The prayer he or she raises is for their wisdom. The faith of the people in these churches was not just learned, it was to be experienced

Ephesus was a place of imperial influence in the Roman world. The Temple of Artemis was in Ephesus. So was the Library of Celsus which contained over 12,000 scrolls. There was also a 25,000 seat Roman theater. Ephesus was the largest Roman city in Asia. The Roman rulers built up Ephesus as a place where their power was celebrated and enhanced. It was also a center of religious power for various cults and beliefs. And right there in the middle of it all was a small, faithful Christian community. A small community called to grow in wisdom and revelation so that its members would know God better.

Biblical scholars think that some of the themes in the letter to the Ephesians indicate that it was written after 70 AD—after the Diaspora scattered the Jews from the area around Jerusalem to the far reaches of the Roman Empire. If that is the case, the churches in Ephesus also had lost a Jewish-Christian community, located in Jerusalem, which had influenced early Christian beliefs. The mother church was no longer there. They were on their own. The churches would have to overcome their homesickness and begin to learn how to discern the direction to which God was leading them. The writer of Ephesians was praying for these churches to gain wisdom.

If wisdom comes from experience, then the churches at Ephesus had a common experience from which to gain knowledge. Much like those churches, we align ourselves with communities. Obviously, as I stand here at an alumnae reunion worship service, I can see that we are part of a community of Meredith Angels. We have achieved our degrees. Some of us lived in the dorms together. Many of us participated in the rituals of our college years—Cornhuskin’, Dances, Class Day. We have our rings so that we can start conversations with other Angels long after we have left the campus of Meredith. But we did achieve something more than our degrees. Through our experience with the Meredith community, we have gained wisdom. Our wisdom is about how to be a part of something larger than ourselves, how to bring honor to our alma mater, and how to honor both the memory of our time here and the future that we see for this now sacred place in our lives.

Maybe you have been apart of other communities. I am a part of many communities: my family, both my immediate family and my extended family; my church, where I am a minister of youth and children; my moms’ group, formed from a group of women in my geographical location. I am a part of online communities, too: a group of women who are bloggers and preachers called the RevGalBlogPals, I am a part of a group who love a certain author’s works (Diana Gabaldon’s novels—in case you are wondering). I am a part of a group of people who play in a virtual world of Neopets—yes, even adults can become addicted to a site that was designed for tweens. And I am a part of a group of people who discuss the ins and outs of Baptist life and frequently argue their positions rather vehemently. I think that many of us are a part of many communities. Whether those communities are in the professional world, somewhere on the corporate ladder, in the home raising children, in a second career, or a third, the communities help remind us that there is a greater role for us in what we have learned and experienced. The writer of Ephesians is remembering these congregations. He or she knows that the churches are connected by one very important event—Jesus’ resurrection.

It is that time of year after all; the Church is in the Easter season. Today is Ascension Sunday, a time when some churches have special confirmations and baptism services. Ascension Sunday celebrates the ascension of Jesus into heaven. The power of God raised Christ from the dead and seated Christ at the right hand in the heavenly realms—it says that in verse 20. The wisdom that we gain through the resurrection results in a power that enables us. The result of the prayers of the writer of Ephesians is that we may have power.

My favorite class here at Meredith was not any of the many religion classes that I took—I was a religion major after all. My favorite class was an honors astronomy class. I loved studying about the planets of our solar system, the galaxies both near and far to our own, and the many theories about the universe. I remember how my class would gather late at night on the roof of the library and look through the telescope that Dr. Novak set up for us. Even with the light pollution in Raleigh, the power of the telescope would let us see another world. The moon looks different through a telescope. Some of the planets and comets that our eyes see unaided look different through a telescope. Far away from this earth, galaxies spin. For Christians, Jesus’ resurrection is our telescope. It allows us to see new things about this life.

Jesus came to this earth. He taught many things and had a community of followers. He also made enemies and was put to death. In Jesus’ resurrection, the teachings of his life were suddenly much clearer. Like a telescope empowers us to see the secrets of the universe, the resurrection also empowers us to see the kingdom of God here on earth. Maybe we have a little glimpse of that kingdom from time to time, in the random acts of kindness that we read about, in the struggle for equality, in our striving to do the right thing and to teach our children how to do the right thing. A few years ago, everyone was asking WWJD: What Would Jesus Do? And if you really answer that question and really try to do those things that Jesus would do. You have glimpsed the kingdom of God. You have been empowered like the writer of Ephesians prayed.

It has been three years since Spiderman II came out. I know that the sequel is out now. I haven’t seen it yet—such is life with small children. My only option to watch movies in theaters these days is to sneak out of the house late at night, and I value my sleep too much. Anyway, I did get to see Spiderman II after it came out on DVD and after I got it from Netflix. Movies about superheroes often contain images and themes of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In Spiderman II, there is a powerful scene where Spiderman is trying desperately to stop a runaway train that the villain, Doc Ock, has set in motion. Lives are on the line. Spiderman spins his webs on the buildings on each side of the track. As Spiderman is at the front of the train, his arms are stretched out on both sides as he strains to control the speed of the train. It takes a couple of attempts before his webs begin to slow the train; but finally, in one of those fingernail biting scenes, as the web strands snap and you aren’t quite sure Spidey is going to get the train to stop, you sigh with relief because it did stop.

Spiderman passes out from the exhaustion of his effort to stop the train, and the crowd on the train catches him as he falls, lifts him, and passes him with their hands above their heads into the interior of the car. It makes one think of Jesus being lifted down from the cross—after all, Spiderman’s arms had been out to the side just a moment before he had passed out. Spiderman’s eyes are closed, and the people wonder if he is alive or not. When his eyes open, we have a resurrection scene. The people rejoice, but the story does not end there. Spiderman had taken off his mask before he had stopped that train, and the people there can see behind the myth of Spiderman. They see the person—just like we finally see Jesus as God’s Son through the resurrection.

When Doc Ock comes on board the train to take the weakened Spiderman, we also see the power of resurrection. Every person in the train car takes a stand and tells Doc Ock that he will have to go through them first. It is amazing to see them take such a stand because they have witnessed the strength of the villain. Yet the crowd overcomes any fear and wants to stop the evil force at hand. It is that same power through Christ’s resurrection that allows us to take a stand against evil. We are called to have power.

Power is a tricky subject to talk about when you are discussing God, for in this world there is power that corrupts. Just look at some of the corporate scandals like Enron, and is it easy to see that power can be used for bad things. Domestic violence, corporate greed, mud-slinging political campaigns, a brute military force that doesn’t discriminate between hostiles and innocent civilians—we do live in a world where evil power exists. Rueben Job, a retired bishop in the United Methodist Church, says:

We do live in a world obsessed with power that is often destructive to all that is good, right, and true. Is power the culprit here, or is it the use of power? Power is not evil in and of itself. Power used wisely for good, noble, and holy purposes is a magnificent gift to the individual and to the church. Patient and prayerful seeking of God’s direction on the use of power is an important factor for individuals and for the church. Most individuals and most congregations rarely assess the power that they have, much less prayerfully seek how to invest that power.[1]

Have you ever prayerfully considered the power that you have? I know that I often see myself as one with little power in this world, yet I am empowered and I need to learn how to use that power to do good.

Rueben Job goes on to write that there is the power of a moral life which is without equal. It is a power that sets the standard for our lives. It is an inspiration for our lives and for the lives of those around us. And it is a power that stands against all that would come against what is good, right, and true in this world.[2]

Christians are empowered. We have power in our lives. Stemming from Jesus’ resurrection, the power enables us to seek the right thing to do for others. I see a lot of that when I read some of the publications that come from Meredith. The 2007 President’s Report was full of the students, alumnae, and faculty who are changing our world through their power. Meredith Angels are promoting women’s equality and a better quality of life for women around the world. Meredith Angels are shaping public policy to make communities better. Meredith Angels are empowering other women to see the value of their lives. Meredith Angels are working toward lofty goals in their careers—not just to gain another rung on a corporate ladder—but to fight disease and seek cures, to create good communities for others, and to help educate men and women, boys and girls. So many doors and avenues for opportunity are open. So many more doors will open. We have power to do good. Do you see why I like reading through the President’s Report? It fills me with hope and power. Those are familiar themes that I also find in our Ephesians passage.

Maybe you are at home raising your children to be good and gracious to those in which they come in contact. You are empowered.

Maybe you are a student, furthering your education so that you may better serve your community. You are empowered.

Maybe you are leading workers to be more efficient and productive through your own personal example of such traits. You are empowered.

Maybe you are retired and volunteer your time to organizations. You are empowered.

Whatever your situation may be, you are truly empowered. We came through Meredith and used our knowledge and experience to gain wisdom. Are you using your life to be all that God has called you to be? When we trust in God and the power of God that was displayed in Jesus’ resurrection, we are empowered. Do not forget that you can do great good in this world.

Let us pray.

God, thank you for this life that you have given us. It is more than we ever can deserve or comprehend. Let us use this time on this earth to do what we can to make this earth a better place, to share the love of Jesus with others, and to empower the people that we come in contact with every day. Guide our hearts. Guide our thoughts. Guide our actions. Let us be the ones to enable our generation to achieve great things for your name both in this present age and in the age to come. Amen.

1.Job, Rueben P. “Claiming Our Inheritance” in Weavings, vol. 18, No. 4, July/Aug 2003, p. 17.

2. Ibid, p. 18.

Excuse the Mess

2007-02-05T18:44:00.000-05:00

I preached this sermon on February 4, 2007.

Luke, chapter 10, verses 38-42. Listen to this story:

38. As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.

39. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.

40. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

41. “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,

42. but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

This is the word of God for God’s people. Thanks be to God.

Imagine. Someone is coming. Someone is coming to your house. Someone is coming to your house for dinner this evening. Or is it some other reason on this first Sunday in February? Now this person or persons will be over in a matter of hours. Imagine how you feel if that were to happen. See…already your blood pressure is rising. You know your house isn’t ready. You don’t know what the menu for dinner is. You don’t know how you will get everything ready by yourself because you know the rest of the household are going to occupied with resting. It is the day of rest, you know.

So company’s coming. Let’s suppose who it might be. It is someone you have not seen in years. Maybe it is someone who has not seen your new place. Or maybe it’s your mother-in-law. You aren’t too sure about how she will feel about your style of decorating. Or maybe it is a party for co-workers or friends (maybe a Super Bowl party?). Or maybe it is your life-group. I heard a life group host last week who said they had to hurry home to clean.

In any event, company’s coming. Maybe you had a few weeks advance notice. You have marked the date on the calendar—circled it with a red marker. You have ordered the food—a nugget tray from Chick-fil-a. If that person is staying overnight, you have changed the linens in the guest room. But you also know that the house needs a good cleaning. You don’t know when the floor was last vacuumed. Isn’t it so easy to put off a little cleaning especially when there is nice weather outside, or snow to play in this past Thursday, or so many things to do this weekend, or a that football game that is on television? But the day is coming, and you…reluctantly…start to clean.

If you are like me (and I am sure none of you are), I tend to put off the cleaning. I have good intentions. I think I’ll do a little each day…a little…very little. So the result is that I have a lot to do by D-Day, the day the company arrives. And usually I finish the cleaning just in time. When we hosted a Christmas party for my husband’s co-workers, I literally had just enough time after I finished cleaning to take a quick shower and change my clothes. And then…ding, dong or knock, knock, knock. The guests arrived. So your guests arrived. There is peace. You did it. You welcome the guests. You say, “Welcome. So nice to see you again.” And what is the second thing you say? “You’ll have to excuse the mess—I haven’t had time to clean up.”

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you have been there. Maybe it was last week. I hope that you share your hospitality with your guests even if it requires some last-minute marathon cleaning.

When I look at Luke, chapter ten, I see that there are three stories here in this chapter. One is about the sending out of the seventy-two with Jesus’ instructions about coming to a person’s house or what to do if a town rejects them. The next story is about the Good Samaritan. You know the story. Remember, the despised foreigner cares for a stranger? Maybe it rings a bell. And the last story, at the end of the chapter, is this story of Jesus visiting Martha and Mary. All three of the stories have a theme of hospitality running through them.

When I think about hospitality, I think about my Grandma. I used to call her Grammer when I was small. My Grandma lived in Sunshine, North Carolina. Thirty or so minutes from Gardner-Webb or the town of Forest City—she lived in the country. I was lucky enough to live in the house about a quarter of a mile from her—in country talk, that is just next door. The land adjoined, and many days I would go to her house. At first, with my mom; but later, as I got older, by myself. There was a shortcut through the woods. Or maybe we would go down our long driveway, walk a shorter distance up the dirt road, and then up my Grandma’s driveway—stopping by her mailbox to get her mail if it was late afternoon.

My Grandma always expected company. She welcomed anyone who came, whether it was one of her six children, or any of her numerous grandchildren or great-grandchildren, or someone from church—maybe the preacher—or a neighbor, or a distant relative—anyone who stopped by. There was no phrase “excuse the mess” because my grandmother kept her modest house clean. It wasn’t a fancy place, but it was well kept with the dishes washed, the beds made, and the floors swept daily. And there was always something you could count on: some type of dessert. Maybe a cake or a pie. My Grandma would say, “Come on, let’s get you a piece.” And you didn’t refuse. You could even have a little sweet tea to go with it. I remember some days when we would sit on the old church pew that was on her front porch and swat the flies as we talked about the weather or what we had been up to. So when I think about hospitality—this welcoming of friend or stranger—I think of my Grandma. Maybe hospitality makes you think of someone like that, too.

Hospitality is very important in the Middle Eastern culture. It comes from a desert custom of offering hospitality to all that ask for it. The desert climate was harsh and there was no certainty that a traveler could make it from town to town or water hole to water hole. So if you had pitched your tent, you were obligated to offer hospitality to the ones who came that way—even if it was your mortal enemy.

I have gotten to experience some Middle Eastern hospitality in my life. In the summer of 2001, I had the opportunity to go to Jordan on an archaeology dig. We were digging at Mudaybi, which apparently was the site of a fort of some sort. It was the third dig at that site, and there is evidence of a gate that faces down the phage, which is a naturally trench that is probably 40 miles wide, and it runs north and south. It made a kind of natural road, and we assume that this fort was a stronghold for people from the time of King Solomon. I actually dug up Iron Age II pottery! 600 B.C.!!

Anyway, I was in Jordan for six weeks. Our group had a couple of men in it who were anthropologists, not archaeologists. These men were especially interested in the lives of Christians living in Jordan. The Christians in the Middle East usually live in Christian towns—yes, there are Christians in the Middle East. One of the Christian towns these men went to was called Simakiyya. One afternoon, they came back from that town and said that a Christian family had invited a group of us to their house for the evening meal. And I decided to go with the small group to that family’s house that night.

When we got there, the family was there to greet us. I saw one woman—the matriarch of the family—among several men and boys of the household. That woman quickly disappeared into the kitchen to get the food that was to be served, but she didn’t bring it out. Her husband and one of the other men did that. And we gathered around a rather large coffee table to eat. We ate goat, and rice with pine nuts, probably some other things I can’t recall right now. But there were four women in the room eating with us. I was one of them, and the other three were women from our group. The women of this household were not there in the room with us. They stayed in the kitchen. The four women from our group did go into the kitchen after the meal, and we spoke with the five women there. The group in the kitchen included that matriarch, a couple of daughters, a daughter-in-law, and maybe a cousin. But these women did not leave the kitchen.

I kind of have the feeling that Martha and Mary weren’t supposed to leave the kitchen either. It was Martha’s house—it says that in verse 38—and Martha and Mary were expected to go into the kitchen and prepare. But Mary doesn’t follow that cultural expectation. The text does not say if there were more people in this scene than just Martha, Mary, or Jesus; but I suspect some of the disciples were there. After all, Martha is distracted; she needs help; it doesn’t seem to be a small meal for three that Martha is cooking. I wonder what Martha was thinking as she was in the kitchen alone. She hears Jesus teaching. She hears her sister responding. Pretty soon it is clear that Mary has no intention of getting up to help Martha. And as every minute passes, Martha is getting more and more angry. Then Martha appears in the doorway.

Now can’t you just imagine Martha coming out of the kitchen? I think I remember this image from an old Sunday School picture. Martha has crossed her arms, wrinkled her forehead (when my mom used to put the wrinkle in her forehead, my brother and I knew we were in trouble), and Martha has put a frowning scowl on her face. Maybe she even tapped her toe as she stood there. Martha is angry, and she does not ask Jesus, she orders Jesus to tell Mary to get back to the kitchen and help her. Martha wants Mary to be put in her place. Martha may have known that Jesus was the most special guest she would ever have in her home. Martha may have known that the things that Jesus taught would be important for her life. But I don’t think that Martha had any idea that she would get the answer that she got from Jesus. Mary had chosen the better thing by sitting at Jesus’ feet.

THE BETTER THING?!?

I’ve heard it said by some preachers and Sunday School teachers that Martha was doing an important job in the kitchen, and Mary was doing an equally important task of listening to Jesus. But that is NOT what this text says. Jesus has not praised them equally. Instead, Jesus uses this moment to teach that he has called a woman out of her traditional role and into equal service as one of his disciples. Do you see this? Mary is doing the better thing. What is she doing? Sitting at Jesus’ feet. That spot, at the feet of a rabbi, was the spot where the disciples of that rabbi sat. It was a place where the Torah was discussed. The disciple at the feet of the rabbi was supposed to one day become a rabbi. And there was Mary—she might as well have marched down to the seminary and enrolled in a preaching class. Judaism had no place for women at the feet of a rabbi, but Jesus came to change that reality. And bible scholars have noted this viewpoint. Fred Craddock says that the radical nature of this story should not be overlooked; he says, “Jesus is received into a woman’s home (no mention is made of a brother) and he teaches a woman” (Craddock, 152).1 Jesus makes it clear in this text that the study of the word of God is above the “socially and culturally imposed gender role of homemaker” (Atteberry),2 C.S. Cowles says that Jesus makes it clear that “a woman is greater than what she does. She has worth and dignity apart from childbearing. Her status is not dependent on her relationship to a man but is dependent on her relationship to God (Cowles, 86-7).”3

Maybe if you read the church newsletter this week, you saw that today is Baptist Women in Ministry Day. Specifically, Baptist Women in Ministry have called today the first annual Martha Stearns Marshall Day of Preaching. Baptist Women in Ministry have called on Baptist churches who support women in ministry to ask a woman to preach this Sunday. So you may ask, “Who was Martha Stearns Marshall, and why does she get a day of preaching named for her?” According to the Baptist Women in Ministry website, Martha Stearns Marshall was not a Martha like the one from our text. Instead, she was an eighteenth-century Baptist preacher, specifically, from the Separate Baptist tradition. Martha Stearns Marshall often stood alongside her brother Shubal Stearns and spoke at Baptist meetings. She also assisted her husband Daniel Marshall in his churches and preached to his congregations. In the late 1750s, the Marshalls founded a Separate Baptist church at Abbott’s Creek in North Carolina. There, Martha served alongside her husband and “was noted for her zeal and eloquence,” and it was said that her preaching “added greatly to the interest of meetings conducted by her husband.”4

Baptist Women in Ministry Day is the reason that our pastor asked me to preach on this day. I have learned that I enjoy preaching, both in the preparation and even the delivery of a sermon. I might even have the gift of preaching, who knows? But my hope and goal through my preaching is to help you be a devoted follower of Christ in this fellowship of faith, hope, and love.

When I am first asked to preach, I usually go to my Christian Seasons Calendar which starts at Advent and is divided into the church seasons. And the lectionary text is printed for each week; or if it is holy week (the week preceding Easter), each day of that week has a text. If you are interested in this type of calendar, you can look at my copy after the service. And if you think about ordering one for next year, remember that you’ll need it by December 2^nd—the first day of Advent. Anyway, when I preach, I usually preach from a lectionary text. I choose an Old Testament passage, or a Psalm, or a Gospel Lesson, or an Epistle to preach from by reading each one and listening for the one that I think will be beneficial to the congregation. Then I usually study several translations of a text, consult commentaries, and come up with a governing theological theme. But I am still amazed, always amazed, how the Holy Spirit can use the Scripture text and my prayers to direct my thoughts and help me convey God’s message.

If you look at this week’s lectionary texts, this passage from Luke 10 is not for this week. In fact, Luke 10:38-42 isn’t preached until July 22^nd. So you get this lesson early. Of course, not all preachers follow lectionary texts. They have to be flexible in determining what a congregation needs to hear or the message that God may be trying to convey to God’s people. (I just thought I’d throw in a little of my methodology and perhaps a little Christian education about the church year—which I had never heard of until my college years.) My point is that over the past month, something has kept me coming back to this story of Martha and Mary. Yes, it is an affirming story for women in ministry. Yes, I think that the writer of Luke is trying to tell this radical message of a new role for women—the role beyond homemaker. But as I think about my own call to ministry, and specifically the call to preach, I can’t help but be distracted as I notice what the text says about Martha’s attitude. And that was the word I just used. Did you hear it? There, in verse 40. Distracted. Martha was distracted.

In my own life, I tend to get distracted a lot. That is the way it is with two preschoolers in my house. But I’m sure it isn’t just preschoolers that distract. It is so difficult some days to just stop and listen—to God, to family, to neighbors, to anyone. Stop and be still. Stop and talk to God. No, we fill our lives up with busyness. And here the kicker: we say we put God first, but is that really true? Honestly, I think we are more apt to put our families first. Or our jobs. Or our friends. I am guilty of putting my family before God.

For a few years after my first son was born, I was content to stay at home with him—or so I thought. My husband says that it is not a good thing to get too comfortable in a job or task—we are not challenged; we don’t learn when we are too comfortable. I agree with that. Over the past year, I have felt a strong urge to find a place of full-time ministry that I know God has called me to find. Whether paid or not, I need to be using my education, my talents, my gifts for God and God’s people. I haven’t found a paid place of service yet, but I do serve this church with my gifts. One day a thought came to me. Over the last five years, I have not sought out as many ministry opportunities as I could because I have been comfortable just raising my kids. Now I’m not saying that raising kids is not an important vocation—many of you are called to do that as your ministry right now. But knowing that I am called by God to preach, to full-time ministry makes me wonder what my kids will think about my complacency when they get older. I have put them before God. I have allowed myself to get distracted.

Mary was not distracted. She listened with her whole heart to the teachings of Jesus. She learned at Jesus’ feet. Mary gave Jesus her undivided attention, her presence. And that is where this notion of hospitality comes full circle. Giving someone your undivided attention is the ultimate form of hospitality. After all, hospitality is to show someone you care for them. It is not being distracted by the comings and goings of a busy sister cleaning house. It is not about rushing home from church to clean the living room before life groups. It is not about offering a piece of pie or cake or a glass of sweet tea. It is about true presence. It is about paying attention. It puts the focus on the relationship not the dust bunnies.

This sermon has been directed at myself. I have bared part of my soul, and I feel very vulnerable. But…what about you? What is distracting you from giving God your presence, your undivided attention, your gifts, your talents, your service, your ministry? I know it is hard to find time, but I hope that you can give it a try. We can pray. We can read our bibles. We can listen to a message from God. We can minister to the sick, the hurt, the lost. We can find places of service in our church congregations. Most importantly, Jesus calls us all, men and women, boys and girls, to sit at his feet and become his disciples. Give the Lord your undivided attention. So that we may know him. So that we may become teachers for him. After all, it is the better thing. Let us pray.

Jesus. We know it is difficult sometimes on this earth for us to offer you our best when we are distracted by the events of our lives. We try so hard to be good hosts to those around us. But we forget that we are to host you first in our lives. Open our eyes to discover the learning that comes from sitting at your feet. Help us focus our attention on you. Help us to be ever aware of the message you brought to earth. In Your name I pray. Amen.

Our hymn of invitation is “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.” I pray that each of you will be able to turn your eyes upon Jesus. If you do not know Jesus, this is the time that you can meet him. It is a time of dedication, to be ushered into His presence. It may be a time of rededication to center your life on Jesus. It may be a time to come into a congregation that will help lead you to be a devoted follower of Jesus. If you need to make a decision or if you need to pray, you may do so at this time.

1 Fred B. Craddock, Luke (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1990), 152.

2 Shawna R. B. Atteberry. http://www.shawnaatteberry.com/2007/01/15/

3 C. S. Cowles, A Woman’s Place? Leadership in the Church (Kansas City: Beacon Hill Press of Kansas City, 1993).

4 BWIM website: http://www.bwim.info/index.php/html/main/preaching.html

Speak Up in Love (James 3:1-12)

2006-09-22T19:01:00.000-04:00

I preached this sermon on September 17, 2006.

When I was a little girl, not more than five or six, I learned a word. It was a word that my mother did not want me to say. She didn’t use it herself, and she probably thought it was too strong of a word to say—especially for a mere child. I would often be reprimanded for saying the word. It would just slip out of my mouth. I must have picked it up at school or from television.

Oh, well….

I think I will tell you the word. But before you cover your child’s ears or your own ears—or go running for the soap to wash my mouth out—let me say that the word isn’t a curse word. It is probably one you say on occasion. The word is…hate. My earliest memories are of being told not to say this word. I was lectured about my use of the word because how could I know what it truly meant? And, if you think about it, hate is a very powerful word. To hear the words, “I hate you”—especially coming from someone you care about (like your teenage son or daughter), can cut straight to your heart.

After I got to be a teenager myself, my mother was a little more relaxed with the use of the word. I didn’t get the lectures I once did because I had more control over my language. But every time I use the word “hate,” I have to make sure it is right to use it—that it is the most appropriate thing to say.

By itself, hate isn’t a bad word. In fact, in some instances, it is even okay to hate. Ecclesiastes 3:8 even says there is a time to hate. So let us think of things to hate: injustice, poverty, abuse, indifference, etc. What do those words have in common? I know—we hate sin. But I think that everyone of us has used the word hate for the wrong reasons. We probably use many words for the wrong reasons.

Words can be used to harm other people. Not one person can come away from middle school or high school years and not think of something that was said to you, or by you, that hurt. Think back to when you were in the 6^th, 7^th, 8^th, 9^th grades. Now what do you remember? If you are like me, just thinking back to those years makes me certain that the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me” is false. Words can hurt.

Crybaby!

When are you going to grow up?

We don’t want you here.

I think we should see other people.

You are not my son.

See how destructive words can be?

One of the ones that I remember—and I can even tell you exactly where I was standing—was on the last day of 6^th grade. A boy in my class came up to me in the cafeteria, as we were lining up to go back to class. He told me that I was flat-chested, and I would always be flat-chested. Well…he was obviously wrong. But see how I took the memory of that incident and filed it away? We can say that harmful words do not matter. But you know that it does matter.

Let us be glad that words are not always harmful. I can think of words that are much nicer.

I love you, Daddy.

Your loan has been approved.

Will you marry me?

Welcome home.

You did a great job today.

You are my hero.

I’m sorry; will you forgive me?

There is a lot of power for good or for evil that has been placed on our tongue. Oh, yes. The tongue…. That is in our scripture for today. Why don’t I read that now? James 3:1-12.

Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle. If we put bits into the mounts of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies. Or look at ships: though they are so large that it takes strong winds to drive them, yet they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits. How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers and sisters, yield olives, or a grapevine figs? No more can salt water yield fresh. (NRSV)

Wow! The writer of James doesn’t think so highly of the tongue. Perhaps he or she had seen the effect of harmful words within the early Christian community. The Christian community that the author of James addresses is a community of Jewish converts to Christianity, and they had not fully realized the ethical and moral responsibility of professing faith in Christ. The writer of James was most concerned that the early Christians should live an authentic faith. Within this letter, there is advice on how to be a doer of the word and not just a hearer. There is a concern that the congregation not show favoritism because of how someone looks or what their social status may be. There is a warning for the rich not to oppress ones at a disadvantage. There is a message about how uncertain the future is. And right here—smack dab in the middle of the letter—is this business about the tongue and its power.

The writer of James directs this message to teachers. Before you say, “Well, I’m not a teacher,” remember that as Christians we are teachers. As Christians, we are called to teach others about our faith. You may be a teacher to those you come in contact with—your friends, your colleagues, your children—and you may not even realize it. So this passage of Scripture does apply to you.

You also need to realize that you are going to fail. No one is really able to keep their tongue in check. The writer of James assumes that mistakes will be made. And we make mistakes in our speech. Who hasn’t put their foot in their mouth at some point?

So what are we to do? Will we just button our lips and say nothing because we are afraid of saying the wrong thing? Will we move to a cave in the mountains and become hermits or take a vow of silence? That is not an option for me. I like to talk, and I have been commanded to share my faith with others. To do that, sometimes I have to speak. The writer of James uses two metaphors to describe how the tongue can control you. One image is of a bit in a horse’s mouth. The other is a rudder on a ship. As the passage goes on to explain that the tongue cannot be tamed, I think back to these images and wonder if something positive cannot be said. Both the bit and the rudder are used for guiding. So even if the tongue cannot be tamed, it can be guided. And if the tongue is guided, there has to be somewhere that it is led. While our words can corrupt, there is also a danger of not saying anything at all. Will the horse be allowed to choose its own path? Will the boat be turned loose to drift?

So where are you going with the things you say? Are words of love coming from your mouth? With Jesus in our lives, we should be speaking words of love. Love is the opposite of that word I told you about earlier. Love is the opposite of hate. Speak up in love to your brothers and sisters in Christ. Speak up in love to those who need to know the saving power of Christ. What are you waiting for? What a surprise it will be to see positive things come from your tongue!

My mother and father live out in the country. A few years ago, my mother noticed that there was a toilet at the end of one of her neighbor’s driveways. It didn’t look like it fell off the back of a pick-up truck. It was off to the side of the driveway and was right-side up. My mother knew that it wasn’t a place for an outhouse, so she kept watching to see why the toilet was there. A few days later, she discovered that the neighbor had planted flowers in the toilet. It was such a strange sight. Flowers don’t usually grow in toilet bowls. Think of the surprise our neighbors will get when they hear our corrupted and untamed tongues speak a message of hope and love to them.

The writer of James offers a powerful warning for us in the last part of today’s scripture. Because the tongue can be used for both blessing and cursing and praising and scolding, we must be aware of what we say. When I was a girl, I sang this song in church.

Be careful little mouth what you say.

For the Father up above, he is looking down in love.

So be careful little mouth what you say.

So how are Christians supposed to speak in ways that would please God? First of all, we must ask if what we are saying will uplift another. There are times when all of us need encouragement. No matter how self-sufficient you might think you are, there is value in being a part of a community of believers. We have the power to uplift one another through what we say.

The country church that I attended until I went away to college was broken apart by words almost two years ago. If you are familiar with churches at all, you know that there sometimes are words that are said that can split a church, drive off a preacher, and tear apart the witness of the congregation. That was what happened to the church of my youth. It was a situation that still makes me grieve over the loss of the witness of that church. I am thankful that I have found a strong community of faith here at Heritage Baptist Church, and I pray that we as members can uplift one another and protect our witness to this community.

Another way to speak that is pleasing to God is to speak out against injustice. Injustice is a curse on humankind, but we have the ability to speak out and to try to set things right. Injustice is perpetuated when God’s people do not speak.

Just this week, I read about an incident that happened in Selma, Alabama back in the days of the Civil Rights movement.

A large crowd of black and white activists [were] standing outside [a church] and [were] electrified by the sudden arrival of a black funeral home operator from Montgomery. He reported that police on horseback had just that afternoon ordered a group of black students demonstrating near the capitol to disperse, and then surrounded them and beat them at will. Ambulances had been prevented by the police from reaching the injured for two hours.

The crowd outside the church seethed with rage. Cries went up, “Let’s march!” Behind [the crowd], across the street, stood, rank on rank, the Alabama state trooper and the local police forces of Sheriff Jim Clark.

A young black minister stepped to the microphone and said, “It’s time we sang a song.” He opened with a line, “Do you love Martin King?” to which those who knew the song responded, “Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!” Right through the chain of command of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference he went, the crowd each time echoing, warming to the song, “Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!”

Without warning he sang out, “Do you love Jim Clark?”—the sheriff! Cer…certainly, Lord,” came the stunned, halting reply. “Do you love Jim Clark?” “Certainly, Lord,”—it was stronger this time. “Do you love Jim Clark?” Now the point had sunk in: “Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!”[1]

Through the song the crowd sang, the tension was eased. Because this one man stepped forward to challenge the injustice and violence that was on the verge of happening, the white sheriff—Jim Clark was converted from his racist ways. Jim Clark went on to get reelected by courting the black vote. And lives were changed because one man used his tongue to proclaim the love of Christ for his enemy. The tongue can be used to proclaim justice.

The final way that our tongue can be used to speak in a pleasing way for God is by praising God. We do that with our songs here at church. We do that through our attitude at work or school. Acknowledging our creator and remaining in a spirit of thankfulness can not help but bring praise to our lips. It is a struggle day-by-day to get to the place where we are truly wholesome—where our hearts and souls reflect God and our tongues cannot help but praise God. When our hearts reflect Christ, our words have to follow that lead and reflect Christ also. I think that in heaven, we will experience the true praise—“where we will no longer have to watch what we say, as our words there will express the depths of a love beyond words.”[2]

You know, I think Jesus went about this earth trying to let people know what heaven was like. Something about the kingdom of God maybe. It actually reminds me of a movie. It is one that your teenagers and pre-teens know about. And even three-year-old son knows about this one. I have a DVD player in my car to keep my son occupied—and boy, does it ever work. My son’s favorite movie right now is High School Musical, and I have listened to it over and over as I drive him around town: to school, to soccer, to church. So if you happen to see me in my mini-van, driving around and singing (and maybe even dancing a little) please know that I am not possessed.

High School Musical is a made-for-TV movie whose main audience is teenagers and tweens (or pre-teens). It is a musical, so there is dancing and singing—and a message. You see, the movie is about Troy, the basketball star, and Gabriella, the science genius. They are from separate worlds, separate cliques, but they find a common bond in singing. Their classmates get more and more anxious about the blurring of lines and the threat to the status quo of the school. In the climax of the movie, Troy is confronted by his basketball team. They trick him into saying that singing with Gabriella means nothing, and the singing is just a way to keep his nerves down before the big championship game. And Gabriella’s science friends show her through streaming video what Troy has said. See how much trouble came from Troy’s tongue? Of course, it is a Disney movie, so the ending is a happy one. Troy asks for forgiveness, and Troy and Gabriella do sing in the audition. The whole school, from basketball jocks to science geeks, from skater dudes to drama queens—everyone realizes that they are a part of the school, and they all in this world together.

And that is where something reminds me about the kingdom of God. Jesus came to a world full of cliques. The Pharisees thought they were the most devout. The Zealots thought they were the most passionate. The rich ruled over the poor. The Romans dwelled in the land. And in the face of it all, a carpenter walked among them and taught them about the kingdom of God. It is a place of unity for us. Paul told the Ephesians to “make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (4:3 TNIV). That same unity will ensure that we have blessings instead of cursings, fresh water instead of salt water, love instead of hate.

I think that the writer of James, with all the advice he or she gives, is actually trying to remind us about the kingdom of God. The way we act, the way we react to others, the way we live, the way we speak—all should reflect the Christ who lives in our heart. If we are truly a part of the kingdom of God, our actions will reflect God.

Do we promote the kingdom of God through the way we talk? As we go from this place today, let us remember the power of our tongue. It can be a power for good or evil. Our hearts will decide. Where is your heart? Does Christ dwell there? If you need to make a commitment to live for Christ, now is the time to do so. I offer an invitation to dedicate your life and your tongue to the glory of God.

In a moment we will sing “Take My Life, and Let It Be.” This song was written by Frances Havergal in the mid-1800s. In this hymn, “Havergal goes…to list everything she desires the Lord to take—moments and days, hands and feet,…silver and gold, intellect and will, heart and love,” and yes voice and lips.[3] It is a complete list. She wants her entire self to be consecrated—devoted entirely, dedicated—to God. As you sing this song, make her words the words of your heart.

Let us pray:

May the words of our mouths

And the thoughts of our hearts

Be now and always acceptable in your sight,

Oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer.

Amen.[4]

[1] Wink, Walter. “My Enemy, My Destiny: The Transforming Power of Nonviolence,” in Weavings: A Journal of the Christian Spiritual Life, Vol. 21, No. 2, March/April 2006, page 14-15.

[2] Kathryn in Ordinary Time: Year B Devotions for June to November by the RevGalBlogPal Webring, page 220.

[3] Partner, Margaret and Daniel in Women of Sacred Song: Meditations on Hymns by Women, page 61.

[4] Kathryn, page 220.