Sermons and thoughts on faith on Scripture from my time at Old Presbyterian Meeting House and Falls Church Presbyterian Church, plus sermons and postings from "Pastor James," my blog while pastor at Boulevard Presbyterian in Columbus, OH.
I am prone to associate God with the big and the grand, but in today's gospel reading, Jesus says that the kingdom, God's coming rule, is like a tiny mustard seed from which grows a large plant. Actually Jesus twice speaks of the kingdom as being like seeds, and I can't help wondering about the small things around us that are seeds of the kingdom, even if they look little like the kingdom in its final form.
I also wonder about all the opportunities that I have, that we all have, to scatter seed. Any time we do not stand by silently in the face of injustice, any time we act in ways that help others even though there is no personal benefit for ourselves, any time we return kindness when we have been hurt or wronged, any time we choose to love someone we would rather hate, another seed of the kingdom falls to the earth.
Such acts may seem far too small and insignificant to make any difference in the world, and on their own this is likely true. But when God waters and gives growth to these seeds...
You've probably seen the bumper sticker urging people to "Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty." I think Jesus would smile at this bumper sticker. Random and senseless speak to something without much seemingly practical purpose, and the tiny seeds of the kingdom can seem quite impractical, in no way a match for all that is broken, hurting, and oppressive in our world. But Jesus says the kingdom begins in just such impractical ways.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
I've been away for almost a week, on vacation in Miami. While there I did something I've almost never done. I read a book while sitting on the beach. I usually spend any beach time playing in the waves, but the water was a bit chilly, so I read. And the book I had brought was The Shack, by Wm. Paul Young.
I know that I came to the party a bit late on this one. A lot of you probably read it some time ago, but I had not gotten around to it. The beach provided a perfect opportunity however, and once I started it I had a hard time putting it down.
Something about Mack, the main character in the book, resonated with me, and I found his experiences at the shack very illuminating. Through them he moved from knowing a lot about God (or at least thinking he knew a lot about God) to developing a relationship with God that allowed him to entrust himself fully to God's care.
For me, trust and faith are often fairly mechanical things. I believe them on a certain level and even act on those beliefs at times. But I'm not sure I would usually describe my faith in terms of relationship and intimacy with God, and watching Mack journey toward intimacy with God was very moving to me.
I think I will always be a theologian at heart, and so I mean no slight to theologians or theology by this. But I wonder if I could sometimes do with a bit less theologizing and a bit more relating. I wonder if I don't need to spend less time considering and contemplating God, and more time connecting to God. And I also wonder exactly how I go about that.
Give ear to my words, O LORD; give heed to my sighing. Listen to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to you I pray.
This plea from the opening of Psalm 5 is a common one amongst the Psalms. Often the Psalms speak from the experience of suffering and of feeling abandoned by God. Sometimes they can be quite strident in demanding that God act according to God's character, to stop the wicked from prospering and the righteous from suffering. It is not at all uncommon for a psalmist to call God to task.
I have those moments, more than I'd like to admit, when God seems distant or absent altogether. But I don't often react emotionally toward God. I rarely shake my fist at God or demand that God act as God should act. Perhaps that is because I am such a thoroughly modern person. God does not seem that involved in day to day life. I don't need God for the sun to shine or the rain to fall. God is so distant from much of life that it almost seems normal for God to be distant in my own life.
It is hard to get angry at someone who doesn't have a lot to do with your world and your life. I can believe in God without really expecting anything of God. But it is hard to be in relationship with a God who isn't real enough to shake a fist at or say a "Thank you" to.
The Old Testament readings are following the story of Joseph this week. Many of us know about Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers who then told their father that a wild animal had killed him. But of course God will eventually use Joseph to rescue not only his own family but also all of Egypt.
Because Joseph is the "hero" in this cycle of stories, it is easy to forget what a pain in the rear he was. He was a spoiled brat who got special treatment from his father. The dreams he had about his family, and even his father, bowing down to him turn out to be true. But Joseph seemed to relish sharing these dreams with his kin. I have a feeling that Joseph was an easy fellow to hate.
Funny how God's promiseoften moves forward through less than savory characters. Jacob, Joseph's father, is a cheat and a scoundrel, but God's promise runs through him.
The world is full of people I think are scoundrels. It is full of folks who are spoiled and whom I find easy to dislike. But in the Bible, God is often at work in the strangest places and through the oddest folks. I wonder where God is at work that I never notice because I'm sure God would never be associated with...
Mark's gospel doesn't bother with any stories about Jesus' birth or anything leading up to it. He simply dives right in with John the baptizer. But before he tells of John's "baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins," he does provide the briefest of introductions. "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God."
For Mark, the good news begins with John calling people to repent. Many of us tend to connect repentance to fire and brimstone evangelists preaching hellfire and damnation sermons meant to scare people into accepting Jesus. But biblically speaking repentance isn't so much about fear. It is about a change of direction when you realize you're on the wrong path. Repentance is when you have become terribly lost while driving somewhere, and then you see a sign that shows you the way; you turn and head for your destination.
Too often we Christians want to relegate repentance to the season of Lent. Repentance is not a part of our day to day faith walk. We'll admit that we've gotten off the path now and then, but we don't like to admit that we need constant help staying on course. We don't like to admit that we have a fundamental problem that tends to get us lost.
I've often heard people in congregations complain about having a "prayer of confession" in worship each week. "They're such a downer," they say. But I think of the prayer of confession used in Presbyterian worship a little like what happens at a weekly AA meeting. It's our version of, "Hi, I'm Joe and I'm an alcoholic." It's how we say to each other, "Hi, I'm Joe and I'm a sinner."
Recovering alcoholics don't think of this regular admission as depressing. In fact, it is what allows them to continue on their new, clean and sober lives. It is the self awareness that keeps them coming to meetings, that helps them lean on the help of fellow alcoholics and on God to say sober.
The beginning of the good news: Hi, I'm James, and I'm a sinner. On my own I keep making bad choices and getting lost. God, help me go where you want me to go.
When Jesus is tempted in the wilderness, there is no question about whether he is Son of God. The question is what sort of Son he will be. So too for us, the question is what sort of children of God we will be.
Back in my high school days, I wrestled on a team that was a perennial power.We usually vied for the conference title and sent a number of wrestlers to the state championship.I have a lot of memories from those days: an inexperienced teammate’s win that turned a match in our favor, celebrations after big wins, and grueling practices where I would often sweat away six or seven pounds in two and a half hours.
But I think the most vivid memory of a practice comes from my first year on the team.We had lost a match the night before to a team we should have beaten.Our coach was as tough and hard-nosed as they come, and no one was looking forward to practice that day.
But rather than being all worked up and animated, Coach was calm and serene.He didn’t yell or scream at us to work harder; quite the opposite.He calmly told us to work only as hard as we felt like.Some of our opening exercises were normally done to the point of exhaustion, but this day Coach told us to stop as soon as they became difficult.When we moved on to the drills we did each practice he said, “Now if you get tired, stop.”
Of course this worked precisely as he hoped.Everyone gave absolutely everything he had, even as Coach kept urging us to take it easy, not to overdo it or strain ourselves.It’s funny how much you can wish for your coach to be yelling at you when he’s not.
Finally, and I suppose rather predictably, the moment came when things turned.Coach acknowledged the effort everyone was giving and said, “Well if you really want to practice hard, we’ll practice hard.If you really want to be champions, we’ll practice like champions.”What followed was the hardest practice I had ever experienced.But no one seemed to mind.After all, we certainly wanted to be champions.
There was never really a question about that.There was absolutely no chance that anyone would respond to Coach’s “If you want to be a champions…” with a “Nah, that’s okay.We don’t want to be champions.We just like saying we’re on a sports team.”
Many times when someone starts a sentence with, “If you…” that “if” is not really in question.“If you love me… If you really want this job… If you want to graduate… If you want to succeed… If you’re really a Buckeye fan…” Often such statements don’t really question whether the person wants the job or is a Buckeye fan.They presume that “if” part to be true.What is really at issue is how someone who is a Buckeye fan will act or what someone who wants to graduate should do.Even in a patently manipulative statement like “If you love…” the person speaking presumes the other’s love.There would be no chance to manipulate them if that were not the case.
And that’s the situation in the temptations Jesus faces in the wilderness.When the devil says, “If you are the Son of God…” there is no doubt as to Jesus’ identity.That is even more apparent in the original Greek of Luke’s gospel.There is a grammatical structure used here that we don’t really have in English, and you could even translate the devil’s words, “Since you are the Son of God…”
And so the issue in our reading is not who Jesus is, but rather what it means to be Son of God.It is easy to picture these events in rather cartoonish fashion, with a horned devil issuing challenges to Jesus.But Luke clearly understands these temptations to be very real for Jesus.They reflect his struggle to be the Son of God that God would have him be rather than the Son of God that religious people expected, that his followers hoped he would be, that his own desires and fears pushed him to be.And it doesn’t stop here.At the end of our reading, the devil departs “until an opportune time.”In Gethsemane, Jesus will struggle with whether or not he can be the Son of God who trusts God’s will so fully that he can face the cross.
These temptations are things Jesus actually considered. And are they really so bad?Why not turn stones to bread.Palestine is a terribly rocky place.Why not turn lots of stones into bread and feed not just himself but all those hungry people?And why not make a deal with the devil and seize political power?The Bible in other places speaks of Satan as the ruler of this world.Why not acknowledge that if it would mean an end to Roman oppression, an end to military conquests, an end to war?And why not jump from the pinnacle of the Temple and touch down softly in its courtyard, held up by heavenly angels?Lord knows that when I’m struggling to stay faithful I’d love for Jesus to pull a divine magic trick like that and make trusting him a lot easier.
What is it that makes Jesus Son of God?Is it simply an identity he is born with, and there is no changing it?If Jesus had become a military Messiah and defeated the Romans would he still have been the Son of God?If Jesus had gotten cold feet in the Garden of Gethsemane and escaped the cross, would he still have been the Son of God?Or does the fact that he is Son of God preclude him from doing that?
And what if we ask similar questions about ourselves?People often want to claim that all humans are “children of God.”If that is true, what does it mean?From a Christian perspective, we say that in our baptisms we are adopted and claimed by God, becoming sisters and brothers of Jesus and therefore God’s children.But what does that mean?More to the point, what sort of life is consistent with being a child of God?
If you met the devil out in the wilderness, what sort of temptations would he lob your way?“If you are a child of God…”Or better yet, “Since you are a child of God…”The issue isn’t whether God adopts you.The issue is how God’s kids should act.
Since you are a child of God, surely God wants you to be happy.So focus on making yourself happy.Make sure you have plenty of money and things first.
Since you are a child of God, God is there to meet your needs and wants.When you pray, ask God for lots of stuff and have faith that God will give it to you.You don’t have to listen for God telling you what you really need.You know what’s good for you.
Since you are a child of God… What comes next for you?
Every week in worship, we proclaim that we are indeed children of God as we pray to “Our Father in heaven.”That prayers says something about what it means to be God’s children; longing for God’s rule, asking for enough for the day, being as free with our forgiveness to others as God is with us.
And it’s not only the Lord’s Prayer.The Bible is full of information on what it means to be a child of God, with Jesus himself as the obvious model to follow.Our brother Jesus is THE child of God.But who can measure up to this sibling?
More than once I’ve heard someone describe being a Christian, being a child of God, something where you are never good enough, an endless guilt trip.Since you are a child of God, keep trying harder, but know that you’ll never measure up.
My high school wrestling coach asked a great deal of us.He would urge us to work harder and harder, to do things we never imagined we could do.But it never felt impossible.It never felt like we were trying harder and harder all the while knowing we’d never measure up.In fact, many of us would have tried to do just about anything Coach asked us to do.But that was because we were like family.We knew how much he cared for us, how much he loved us.We knew how much he wanted the best for us, and so we trusted him almost absolutely.
All praise and glory to the God who loves us so much, that in Jesus God went to the cross that we might be children of God.
Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.
There is a gentleman who comes to our church sanctuary to practice on our pipe organ. Now and then I bump into him and we'll chat for a bit. Yesterday he asked if we were doing anything for Ash Wednesday. I told him about our service, and he responded that a Presbyterian friend of his said that Presbyterians don't do Lent.
The Presbyterian congregations I grew up in "didn't do Lent," but I think that many, if not most, do now. But that is not to say we are always sure what to do with Lent. Personally, I cringe at the stereotype of giving something up for Lent. Lent evolved from an intense period of preparation for converts who would profess their faith during the vigil that led up to Easter. It wasn't about giving things up it was about moving toward something.
Now obviously if I am going to draw closer to God by spending more time in prayer, Bible reading, acts of caring, or some other spiritual practice, I may have to do less of something else such as watching television, but the focus is not on what I give up, but what I take up.
The epistle reading for today speaks of "straining forward" and pressing "on toward the goal..." Maybe this Lent would be a good time for me, and perhaps you, to be a bit more disciplined about those things that draw me closer in relationship with God, that make clearer the call I, and you, have in Christ.
On Ash Wednesday, the gospel reading is a parable from Jesus. Two men go to the temple. One is a Pharisee. The name conjures up images of "the bad guy" for many Christians, but in Jesus' day Pharisees were the folks who took faith seriously. They were reformers who argued against religious ritual and for a life that was obedient to God. Any pastor would be lucky to have a congregation full of Pharisees. There would always be plenty of volunteers, lots of mission projects, and plenty of money for the budget.
The other fellow at the temple is a tax collector. Again what comes to mind when we hear this label probably doesn't fit what it meant in Jesus' day. This was no civil servant. He was a crook and a traitor. Tax collectors were Jews who collaborated with the occupying Romans. They had contracts to collect taxes for Rome, and they could keep whatever they collected above their allotment. They used Roman troops to shake down the people for money, and they often got rich. They were almost universally despised.
Quite a contrast; an upstanding church member and a greedy crook. But Jesus says the tax collector goes home justified, that is, right in God's eyes. And all because he cried out for mercy.
We religious folks often have a hard time not being proud of our religiousness. Conversely, we often look down our noses at those who clearly don't take their religious lives seriously. But this parable argues for a different sort of pose before God.
I don't have the quote in front of me, but Martin Luther once said something like, "When you find yourself before the heavenly judge, plead your faults and not your merits." Neither Luther nor Jesus were arguing that we should live sinful, criminal, or despicable lives. Rather they want us to base our relationship with God on the fact that God loves us, whoever we are. It's not a contractual arrangement that hinges on what we do.
Change Jesus' parable just a bit so that the two men are addressing their spouses or lovers. One dutiful spouse tells his partner what a good catch he is, not like other lovers. But the other fellow falls weeping at his lover's feet, acknowledging his failings and asking for another chance. Personally I think there is more hope for the second relationship than the first.
Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." Pilate asked him, "What is truth?"
Pilate's question, "What is truth?" hangs unanswered in John's account of Jesus' trial. However, it should be noted that John carefully crafts his story so that Jesus is the judge, and Pilate, along with the Jewish leaders, is actually the one on trial. Jesus asks more questions than he actually answers, and his answers often serve to befuddle Pilate more than enlighten him. (For some strange reason the NIV Bible has Jesus answer Pilate's question about being king in the affirmative, but that is interpretation and not translation.)
What is truth? And even more pointedly, what does it mean to belong to the truth? We live in a culture of spin and half truths. Very often, we define truth as whatever we happen to hold dear, and we sometimes justify lying and manipulating the truth in order for our view to prevail. And this happens not only in political debates. I see it all the time in debates in the Church. Very often it isn't a matter of belonging to the truth. We decide that we have the truth and will do most anything to ensure our truth wins.
Lord, help me let go of my certainties that are not part of your truth. Draw me into your truth in Jesus.
I am prone to associate God with the big and the grand, but in today's gospel reading, Jesus says that the kingdom, God's coming rule, is like a tiny mustard seed from which grows a large plant. Actually Jesus twice speaks of the kingdom as being like seeds, and I can't help wondering about the small things around us that are seeds of the kingdom, even if they look little like the kingdom in its final form.
