Sermon: Every One of Us Afire

1 Corinthians 12:1-13

Every One of Us Afire

James Sledge                                                                           May 31, 2020 – Pentecost

Some years ago, I had the chance to visit Corinth, Greece. Corinth sits on the Isthmus of Corinth which connects the Peloponnese peninsula with the rest of mainland Greece. This location made it a thriving seaport in ancient times. A canal has allowed ships to traverse the isthmus since the late 1800s, but in ancient time the Greeks and then Romans devised various methods to create on overland shortcut such as rolling ships across on logs.

As often happens with seaports, Corinth was a cosmopolitan city with people from all over, many of them hoping to make it big there. It had reputation as a place where upward mobility was easier than in much of the Roman Empire. In that sense, Corinth was not totally unlike America. It was a land of opportunity, a place where even former slaves might become respected figures in the community. There was a sense of freedom and possibility.

No doubt the cosmopolitan, Gentile populace of Corinth posed challenges for the Apostle Paul when he first arrived and began a Christian congregation there. His converts often weren’t familiar with Hebrew ideas of a covenant community that cared for the least of these, notions which permeated the teachings of Jesus. Jesus doesn’t fit easily into a worldview of advancement and upward mobility, a world view that often sees those left behind as failures.

Most all we know about the congregation in Corinth comes from the letters Paul wrote. When Paul founded a church, he didn’t stay on as pastor. He was a missionary, always looking to spread the gospel, but he still tried to care for his congregations, visiting them occasionally, getting reports from travelers whenever he could, and communicating by letter.

Based on Paul’s letters, the Corinthian church was an exuberant, energetic place. People were excited about their new faith and the experience of the Spirit. But, as often happens with religion, they tended to view their faith through the lens of culture. American Christianity has become so individualized that might well be unrecognizable to Jesus, and the Corinthians saw their faith as another aspect of competitive, upward mobility.

Sermon video: Faithful Witnesses (from the early "informal" service)

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Sermon: Faithful Witnesses

Acts 1:6-14

Faithful Witnesses

James Sledge                                                                                                   May 26,2020

“Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” It seems like it would be a good time. Jesus had been raised from the dead a little over a month earlier. He’d been hanging out with the disciples, talking more with them about the kingdom of God, and telling them to stay in Jerusalem awaiting the promise of the Father… waiting to be baptized with the Holy Spirit.

Something big was about to happen. Maybe now God was going to straighten things out, set the world right. And by the time the two volume set of Luke-Acts gets written, likely over fifty years later, the world looked like it needed even more straightening out. The Romans had completely destroyed the city of Jerusalem, its magnificent temple totally obliterated. Jews and Christians alike had fled to various parts of the Mediterranean world.

By that time, the break between Judaism and Christianity was pretty much complete. Christians were no longer a sect within Judaism, and so they no longer enjoyed the special religious exemption that Rome gave to the Jews for being an ancient religion. And then there was the problem with that basic faith statement, “Jesus is Lord.” Rome said Caesar was Lord, that the emperor was a god. Christians were clearly trouble makers, a threat to the social fabric that held the empire together.

Lord, this would be a really good time to restore the kingdom, to straighten things out, to make life easier for the faithful. It’s a mess, God. Do something! But Jesus answers, “It is not for you to know the times and periods that the Father has set… But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses…”

Fast forward nearly two thousand years, and it’s not hard to sympathize with those early disciples. Lord, this would be a really good time to do something. Many scientists are worried that we are perilously close to a tipping point on climate change, if it isn’t already too late. COVID-19 is decimating communities, sending countless people into poverty, and exposing our broken healthcare system. The partisan divide in our country has become so extreme that even the pandemic cannot overcome it, and wearing a mask in public, a simple act of loving one’s neighbor, has somehow been politicized.

Sermon video: Learning to Love Back

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Sermon video: Easter Life

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Sermon: Learning to Love Back

John 14:15-21

Learning to Love Back

James Sledge                                                                                                   May 17, 2020

Occasionally, when I first read a scripture passage I might preach on, thoughts just pop into my head. As I read today’s gospel, I thought of the “new commandment” Jesus had given to his followers moments earlier, “that you love one another.” Somewhat less obviously, I recalled a quote from Anne Lamott. about learning to love back.

For those who’ve never read her, Lamott is a novelist who may be better known for her bestselling writings on faith. These contain a mixture of her often strange personal story, wry wit and humor, and sometimes irreverent thoughts on how faith has helped her navigate it all.

With a little effort I found the quote I had recalled in one of her books. She was discussing her then fourteen year-old son, Sam, and the struggles of raising a teenager as a single mom who is a recovering addict. She spoke of Sam’s religious sensibilities, how he believes that Jesus is true, how he prays, even prays with his mom at bedtime on occasions. But he hates church, even the quirky little Presbyterian congregation Lamott belongs to. She writes:

Then why do I make him go? Because I want him to. We live in bewildering, drastic times, and a little spiritual guidance never killed anyone. I think it’s a fair compromise that every other week he has to come to the place that has been the tap for me: I want him to see the people who loved me when I felt most unlovable, who have loved him since I first told them that I was pregnant, even though he might not want to be with them. I want him to see their faces. He gets the most valuable things I know through osmosis.

Also, he has no job, no car, no income. He needs to stay in my good graces.

While he lives in my house, he has to do things my way. And there are worse things for kids than to have to spend time with people who love God. Teenagers who do not go to church are adored by God, but they don’t get to meet people who love God back. Learning to love back is the hardest part of being alive.[1]

I think she’s right. We’re all born needing to be loved. The desire for it is innate. Infants and young children who do not receive love struggle to thrive. But we are not born knowing how to love in return, to love back, and many of us never learn to do it all that well. The world is full of people who always take a lot more love than they give. Countless marriages and relationships fall apart because the balance of giving and receiving love gets so badly out of whack, because so many of us have not learned well that hardest part of being alive.

Sermon: Easter Life

Acts 2:42-47; John 10:1-10

Easter Life

James Sledge                                                                                                               May 3, 2020

Most of you have likely seen news reports about churches that insist on having in-person worship during this time of stay at home. I saw a newscast where a reporter interviewed members as they drove away from one such worship service. A woman said that she wasn’t worried about catching the virus because, “I’m covered in the blood of Jesus.”

The reporter asked her several more questions, and she seemed happy to talk with him. But her answer to nearly every question ended, “I’m covered in the blood of Jesus.”

If you’re like me and didn’t grow up singing hymns such as “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus” or “Precious, Precious Blood of Jesus,” you may not be familiar with this graphic, formulaic notion of how Jesus’ death saves and protects people.  But our own hymnal can also be formulaic, if not so graphic. On Easter Sunday we sang, “But the pains which he endured… our salvation have procured.”

I’m not sure why religious formulas are so popular. A friend remarked about the “tendency for faith to degrade into magic” when he shared a Washington Post article about a Virginia pastor who died from COVID-19 despite his certainty that God would protect him. I suppose that magic has a certain appeal over the difficulties, nuances, and messiness of biblical faith. Believe this and you are saved. Say this and all will be well. Abracadabra.

But if Christian faith were formulas and magic, the Bible would be a pamphlet, not over a thousand pages of stories, poems, letters, teachings, sayings, etc. Jesus wouldn’t have spoken in parables and vivid metaphors. He would have just given us the magic words. Abracadabra.