Sermon video: God with Skin On

Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: God with Skin On

Luke 24:36-48

God with Skin On

James Sledge                                                                                       May 19, 2019

I’ve likely told this story before, but it seems worth retelling. A mom is putting her young child to bed, but he’s frightened and begs her to stay with him. She does those things parents do, explain that there’s nothing to be afraid of, remind him that she’ll be just outside his room, and so on, but none does much good. Finally she says, “God will be right here the entire night.” But the boy protests, “I need God with skin on!”

You can’t really blame him. God can feel pretty wispy at times, an idea or concept without a lot of substance. If I’m really frightened, a concept may not feel all that comforting. If I don’t have enough to eat, saying “God loves you,” won’t do much good.

The whole Jesus business is, in part, about giving God some skin, about a God that removes some of the wispiness and lets us say, “Oh, so this is what God is like.” Yet modern Christianity sometimes minimizes the skin on part, preferring God as concept. And so Jesus the man, the Jewish rabbi, gets turned into Christ, a not quite human figure without all those messy particulars of skin and bodily functions and Jewishness. Sometimes it’s easier to run a religion where God is a manageable concept without too much skin.

The gospels, however, go to great lengths to insist on the fleshiness of Jesus, not just before his death and resurrection but after it as well. Our reading this morning is one of several that go out of their way to keep Jesus’ skin on. People are invited to touch him, and, in Luke’s gospel, Jesus eats in two successive stories.

On the day of resurrection, two disciples meet Jesus as they walk to Emmaus but don’t recognize him. Only when they stop for the evening and share a meal where Jesus takes bread, blesses and breaks it, do the disciples realize it is Jesus.

They rush back to Jerusalem and are telling the others what happened when Jesus shows up once more. He invites his friends to touch him, to see that he has skin on, then he asks, “Have you anything to eat?” And he eats the fish they give him.

This might seem a totally unnecessary detail unless you’re determined to present the risen Jesus as a fleshy, with-skin-on sort of God. For the gospels, and for biblical faith, bodies are not a problem to be overcome. Salvation is not about a spiritual existence apart from the body. Christian faith is a messy, incarnate faith where God has skin on, and where following Jesus with our earthly bodies is as much the focus as what happens when we die. Christian faith only works when it is embodied, when it has skin on.

Sermon video: Won't You Be A Neighbor

Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Transfroming, Holy Space

Isaiah 1:12-17; Romans 12:1-2

Transforming, Holy Space

James Sledge                                                                                       May 12, 2019

The other day I attended the annual spring luncheon of the Falls Church Community Service Council at Knox Presbyterian. Some of you bring food for their food pantry, and our congregation has long supported this and other programs at FCS.

This year’s lunch celebrated their 50^th anniversary. A representative from Church World Services spoke briefly and reminded us of all that was happening in 1969, the first moon landing, Woodstock, all the tumult and turmoil. “It was a time when we thought we could change the world,” he said. But then he added, “Not many of the people I work with feel that way these days. Many of them are depressed.” He went on to make a more hopeful point, but I was still thinking about that journey from expecting to change the world to despair.

Perhaps it was simply a matter of hopes meeting reality. That speaker mentioned that the number of refugees in the world is now larger than at any time since the end of World War II, a rather sobering statistic. But along with being sobered up by cold, hard facts, I wonder about the source of that confidence back in 1969.

I was only twelve years old at the time, but I suspect that expectations of changing the world were partly rooted in a belief in progress and the idea that we humans could do anything we put our minds to. America had helped win World War II, become the dominant super power, and put a man on the moon. On top of that, the 60s saw huge gains by the Civil Rights movement, and a burgeoning anti-war movement, Between unparalleled scientific advances and great social change, it was easy to see endless possibilities.

I wonder if Civil Rights leaders such as Martin Luther King shared the same sort of optimism. They had a different sense of the difficulties and costs involved. My impression is that Dr. King’s optimism was not rooted in a belief in progress or endless human capabilities. It was rooted in faith, in a certainty that God’s will would ultimately prevail.

Perhaps that is why Civil Rights rallies often looked a little like African American worship. Such worship wasn’t so much about personal piety or salvation but about salvation history, about the power of God at work to free the oppressed and set right injustice.

The worship I sat through growing up in the 60s and 70s was very different. Our white, middle class worship fit easily into American civil religion that often saw the Civil Rights movement and, to a greater degree, the anti-war movement as threats. Even in churches that were sympathetic to these movements, faith and worship often served as a respite from the tumult, largely disconnected from any hope or desire to change the world.

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Sermon: Won't You Be a Neighbor

Luke 10:25-37

Won’t You Be a Neighbor

James Sledge                                                                                                   May 5, 2019

Perhaps you are familiar with the old, proverbial saying, “Charity begins at home.” Many assume it is from the Bible, but it’s not. Its first written appearance is in 1600s England, when the word “charity” was used somewhat differently than today.

In the old King James Bible, the Apostle Paul’s famous words on love instead speak of charity. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three, but the greatest of these is charity. And so the old proverb’s understanding of charity would  include “Christ-like love.”

Originally, the proverb spoke of how people learned to be loving and caring by witnessing such behavior at home. You could say much the same of other behaviors. A strong work ethic begins at home. Good citizenship begins at home. Love of learning begins at home, etc.

However, I typically hear the proverb used quite differently. “Why should our government send financial aid overseas when there are needy people here? Charity begins at home.” Here the proverb is taken to set limits on charity. Only after those close by are cared for should it be extended to others.

I take it that the lawyer who questions Jesus in our gospel reading would have used the proverb in this latter fashion. He’s concerned with rules and limits. “What must I do…?”  He’s is an expert in the Law of Moses, so he knows the answer, easily providing appropriate scriptures. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus is happy to confirm that this is indeed the correct answer, adding, “Do this, and you will live.” But the lawyer is a “charity begins and ends at home” sort, and so he wants Jesus to clarify the boundaries, the limits. “And who is my neighbor?”

If I have to love my neighbor, I want to know where the neighborhood ends. Is it people who live on my street? Is it my religious group or church? Is it people of my race? Is it citizens of my country? Where can I stop, Jesus?

Jesus doesn’t really answer the question, but he does tell a famous story. It’s a somewhat troubling parable about what happens to a man who’s been robbed and left for dead, although some of its more troubling aspects get lost in translation and its familiarity.