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.
The first line of both morning psalms speaks of God as king. Reading those lines likely shaped the way I read both the Exodus story about the golden calf and the Beatitudes in Matthew. The notion of God as king, as absolute ruler over my life, sounds great when I say it, but God often seems absent in my life, as the Israelites experienced at Mt. Sinai. And Jesus' list of those especially blessed by God is not exactly the list I would prefer. I say I'd like God to be ruler of my life, but I would also like God to conform a bit more to my notions and expectations. God should jump when I call. And God should make me feel happy and content without asking me to live at odds with the culture, and certainly without asking me to take up the cross.
When I was in seminary, I saw some interesting arguments about the resurrection. Most saw the resurrection as a tangible, historical event, and if you didn't believe that you were not really a Christian. Some others argued for a more metaphorical notion of the resurrection. They spoke of the importance of experiencing the presence of the risen Christ in their lives over believing in any particular historical event.
But it strikes me that you can be on either side of this argument while still denying a central truth about the resurrection. The resurrection vindicates the life of Jesus. It proclaims that this life which followed God's will no matter the cost, even when it meant a cross, is indeed the shape of true human life, life as it is meant to be lived. Our fullest humanity comes when God is indeed king, even when that leads to a life that makes someone appear strange and perhaps even dangerous to the prevailing culture.
"The LORD is king!" Well I guess saying it is a start.
We Presbyterians have often been labeled "head" Christians, especially when it comes to our worship. Our faith sometimes seems to function mostly from the neck up, and historically our preaching has tended to be on the didactic side. More than once I've had someone come up to me after worship and say, "I really enjoyed the lecture."
Now I like to think that my sermons are not at all like lectures, but perhaps I need to work on that, and perhaps we have trained our folks over the years to expect a lecture. But as important as learning and teaching have been for Presbyterians, Christian faith can never dwell primarily between the ears. It must be lived out as we follow Jesus.
In John 10 Jesus says, "My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow me." I went to the Middle East as a seminary student and I once saw a scene that I think is the backdrop for Jesus' words. From the window of a tour bus I looked out over a valley and saw a young Palestinian boy, perhaps 11 years old, walking down a well worn trail. And behind him followed 9 or 10 sheep. He wasn't driving them or herding them as we Americans tend to think of such things. He was in the lead and they were walking, single-file, behind him. In my imagination, that boy was calling his sheep. Trusting him, the sheep willingly went along behind him, confident he would lead them where they needed to go.
To borrow from that image, believing that Jesus is the shepherd is important, but following him is crucial. It does no good to say, "Jesus is my shepherd," if we do not go with him when he calls.
The 10 Commandments show up in today's Old Testament reading. They are hardly the only legal commands given to the Israelites in the wilderness, but these are the only ones actually spoken by God to the people. God never speaks directly to them again. Everything else is mediated through Moses. (It's worth noting that different faith traditions divide these commands differently. Jewish commands 1 and 2 are combined as command 1 for Roman Catholics and so on. All the major Jewish/Christian divisions end up with a total of 10, but if you mix and match the divisions you could end up with 11 or 12.)
I suppose this fact that God delivers these commands firsthand warrants the special status they have enjoyed over the years. Not that this special status has necessarily meant we take these commands seriously. The opening commandments relate to God's jealousy, God's passionate zeal for this relationship with us that requires our full devotion. But I find it very easy to have a rather casual relationship with God.
Also, I and many others routinely trot out God to support our views on this issue or that. The commandment against making wrongful us of God's name should probably give us pause, but it rarely does. This commandment is often trivialized into "Don't swear or curse," but it is really about invoking the power of God's personal name, Yahweh, for our own personal gain.
The "second table" of the Law, the part dealing with human-human relations, is perhaps more straightforward than the first. And while the commands against stealing and murder and perjury are more or less universally endorsed, coveting is an essential part of our economy. If advertisers can't get us to covet that shiny new car in our neighbor's driveway...
There's been fair amount of stink in recent years about whether or not the 10 commandments can be posted on public buildings; classrooms, courtrooms, and the like. Doing so has become a major cause for some conservative Christian groups. But given how easily we've ignored them over the years, I'm not sure this is energy all that well spent. Perhaps Christians would do much better to consider taking them seriously ourselves.
Today's reading from Colossians speaks of how people who were once estranged from God, who used to live in ways contrary to God's desires, have been reconciled through Jesus, "so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him - provided that you continue securely established and steadfast in the faith..." These verses seem to speak of a dialectic inherent in the faith. Our status before God is not our doing; it is a gift to us, a matter of God's grace. But living in this new relationship with God requires a response to the gift, a life of faith.
But too often, this dialectic gets distorted into "Believe in Jesus and get the goodies." Faith becomes agreeing with certain religions beliefs and principles and getting rewarded as a result. But the Colossians passage - and many other places in the Bible - describe a new relationship that is simply given, and a new life that emerges from living into this relationship. In the gospels, Jesus welcomes people into his fellowship by calling them to follow him. The invitation is pure grace, but being a disciple means following: doing as he says, living by his teachings and commandments.
In the Church, we've often forgotten this "provided that you continue..." side of faith. In traditional denominations such as my own, you can see this in how we approach membership. Although our theology would beg to differ, we generally consider people members in good standing as long as they show up for worship now and then. We do very little to encourage them to live out that faith, to serve as disciples, to embody Jesus in their life at the church and in the world.
But this is changing. One of the exciting things in the church is the recovery of "Christian practices," habits and behaviors that shape and form us into the disciples Jesus calls us to be. Be they ministries of hospitality or spiritual practices that deepen our awareness of and attentiveness to God, these encourage the response side of the faith dialectic, and help us actually follow Jesus in our daily living.
What practices help you to respond to God's grace in Christ?
I've written previously about a huge study of the faith of young people in America, one that labeled that faith "Moralistic, Therapeutic, Deism." Central to this faith is the notion of believing in God and trying to be good (along with hoping God may help you out of a jam). I doubt the faith of the people in our gospel reading would ever have been described as Moralistic, Therapeutic, Deism, but believing in God and trying hard to be good certainly could describe the Pharisees we meet there.
While the Pharisees are often seen as "bad guys" in the gospels, they were a very dedicated reform movement in Judaism, one that insisted ritual alone was not enough. People needed to work hard to be obedient to God's commands. And yet, John the Baptist tells the Pharisees who come to him that they need to "bear fruit worthy of repentance."
Over the years repentance has taken on a narrow religious meaning of feeling remorse and regret over past actions, with an implication of conversion. But biblically speaking, the term has to do with changing one's mind and going in a new direction. Pharisees tried very hard to be good, to be obedient, so I'm not sure we would expect them to be remorseful about such behavior, but still John expects them to turn, to become something different.
Christian faith in 21st century America is often difficult to distinguish from generic notions of spirituality and good citizenship, from Moralistic, Therapeutic, Deism. But if John the Baptist is any guide, following Jesus apparently calls us to turn and become something much more than that.
Beyond believing in God/Jesus and trying to be good and help others, what fruit is born of your turning toward Jesus?
John 21 comes after the gospel of John seems to have ended. Perhaps this story after the story has ended serves to unsettle things and get the story moving again. Perhaps we need a similar unsettling.
John 21:1-19
The Story Continues
James Sledge -- April 18, 2010
When the movie ends, the scene fades to black, “The End” appears on the screen, and the credits begin to roll.But rare is the movie where we don’t know it’s the end without these cues.
Music works in similar fashion.More often than not, we can detect that the piece has ended even when we’ve never heard it before.Any musical tension and dissonance resolves into something that feels complete, finished, and we know we are at the end.
In movies, in plays, in novels, in music, this pattern is familiar to us.Things need to be brought to a conclusion.The war must be won.The broken relationship must be repaired.The killer must be caught.The jury must come in.The lovers must find one another.The last note must be played.Otherwise we are left with a sense of loose ends.
The gospel of John has dealt with its loose ends.Jesus has been raised from the dead.Mary Magdalene has seen him.Then he has appeared to the disciples, commissioned them and gives them the Spirit.Finally he has appeared again so that Thomas, who was somehow absent when Jesus appeared that first Easter evening, might see and believe.Thomas does believe, but looking forward from that moment, Jesus says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
And then the gospel ties up the last loose ends and plays the final note.Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book.But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.Fade to black.
But just as we prepare to get up from our seats, suddenly the story resumes.After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias.It’s all rather jarring.Just when we thought we understood exactly how things came out, the story starts up again.It breaks into the feeling of completeness.All that dissonance that had been resolved is stirred up again.
The scene itself is surprising.We’re back at the Sea of Galilee with seven of the disciples.No explanation is given for why they are there.They are just there.It is late in the day, and Peter announces, “I’m going fishing.”
“Sounds like a plan,” the others chime in together.“We’ll all go with you.”
What’s going on here?Has Peter returned to his pre-disciple profession?I don’t know, but he clearly has a boat at his disposal.And they spend the night fishing without catching a single fish.
When the gospel of John seemed to end a few verse earlier, Jesus had already empowered the disciples with the Holy Spirit and sent them as the Father has sent him.But now here they are fishing in the dark.
Now strictly speaking there is nothing all that unusual about fishing at night.But in John’s gospel this seems terribly out of place.Themes of light and darkness are so prominent in this gospel.Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness.But the world prefers the darkness.Nicodemus sneaks out to see Jesus at night.Judas slips off to betray Jesus in the darkness of night.And now, after the resurrection, after the gift of the Holy Spirit, we find the disciples fishing, with no success, in the dark.
It’s a rather depressing scene, from an actual fishing standpoint as well as the metaphorical one.But then the light dawns, both literally and metaphorically.The disciples don’t realize at first, but Jesus is there on the shore.Suddenly there are fish galore and breakfast is ready and waiting.
If the disciples had somehow misunderstood, thought that the end of the story meant things went back to the way they were before, Jesus shatters that notion.The disciples’ last meal with Jesus will not be a prelude to his death, but a prelude to their ministry.
There is a problem with endings.When the movie ends, when all the loose ends are tied up, when any dissonance in the notes resolves and the song concludes, the energy is also gone.Nothing drives events forward any longer.Everything is settled.
Christian faith is bound to an ancient story, and without remembering and embracing that story we cannot be the people of God.But that story is not ended.It has not faded to black.The great preacher Tom Long even suggests that this strange story in John’s gospel that takes place after the story has ended serves to draw the curtain up again, to unsettle things and put the energy back into an unfinished story.
Of course Peter is a special case, and this story after the end of John’s gospel recalls how Peter’s story seemed to have ended.On the night of Jesus’ arrest, a confident, brash Peter had boldly predicted that he would lay down his own life in order to go with Jesus.Instead Peter had denied Jesus three times as he stood warming himself by a charcoal fire that night.
But that is not the end of Peter’s story.Standing by a different charcoal fire, Peter’s threefold denial is undone.Jesus’ love embraces Peter and restores him.But his restoration does not bring Peter’s story to a conclusion.Rather it is a new beginning.“Feed my sheep.Tend my lambs.Follow me.”
This second ending of John’s gospel leaves many questions unanswered and much left to do.What happens to Peter?Presumably he did what Jesus commanded him.He cared for Jesus’ flock, even though it likely cost him his own life at some point.But clearly the story continues, and much of it remains to be written.
Nearly 2000 years later, I wonder if we might not need another, another ending to the story, something like the second ending of John that unsettled things a bit and injected energy and momentum towards a future still to come.I can’t help but think that religion has gotten far too settled, far too fixed.We humans tend to like things settled, but without some tension and the energy it provides, things stagnate.Without some sense that the plot is still unfolding, that we are moving toward something, things become listless and merely habit.
You don’t need to be a social scientist or researcher to know that young people have left the church in droves in the last few decades.Many of them are children of some of you.But researchers can tell us some interesting information about these folks.For the most part, they don’t have any real conflict with the beliefs or doctrines of their parents’ faith, and they didn’t leave to find “better churches.”They believe in God and in being good. They just don’t see any point to the church part.They can believe in God and be good without church.
And I think they got the notion that what goes on at church isn’t very important from us.We got so settled, so accommodated to the world around us.We acted like the story was over and there wasn’t anything significant left to do.We even acted like there wasn’t anything significant going on in our worship.
A member in the pews on Easter Sunday told me this story.It seems that someone was attending worship with family or friends.And as the service ran a bit past an hour – not surprising with the extra music and the large number receiving communion – this person said, loudly enough for those nearby to hear, “You said it only lasted an hour!”
Now I suppose this person can be excused.For all I know, he wasn’t even Christian.But we often act just like him.We check our watches.People complain if the service runs over a few minutes.They grumble if they didn’t like one of the hymns.But if we really expected to meet Jesus here, I doubt we’d care what music we sang or how long we stayed.
But we act like we’re just telling an old story and singing some songs.Perhaps it’s warm and comforting in a way.Perhaps we enjoy it.But it isn’t meant to stir anything up or start anything.The story has been written, and the screen has faded to black.
Like the disciples in our gospel, we have settled back into our everyday routines.Yes, we’ve heard that Jesus was raised.Maybe we even believe it.But that’s an old story, and it doesn’t have much to do with how we live our lives.At least that’s what we’ve communicated to those who grew up in the church.And they’ve taken us at our word, and so many of them have left.And who can blame them.
But the good news is that Jesus does not condemn disciples who settle back into old routines, who live like the resurrection doesn’t much matter, who fish aimlessly in the dark.Jesus does not even condemn Peter for denying him.He only wants to get the story going again.He feeds his disciples, and he calls them, calls us, once more.“Feed my sheep.Tend my lambs.Follow me.”And the story continues.
Today's reading from 1 Peter is not one of my favorites, but it does raise interesting questions about how one handles Scripture. Some well known injunctions are found here such as the command to "accept the authority of every human institution," including pagan emperors and governors; a requirement that slaves "accept the authority of your masters with all deference," whether such masters be good or bad; and the command that wives "accept the authority of your husbands," even if they are not Christians.
I occasionally hear the last injunction quoted by conservative Christians, but some of these folks have no trouble railing against the government. Never mind this Scripture's command to "Honor the emperor." And despite some recent attempts to portray the southern Confederate States as some sort of 19th Century Tea Party effort, almost no one is arguing in favor of slavery. Never mind that following 1 Peter literally would seem to have ruled out any efforts to eradicate slavery.
But Scripture is an equal opportunity trouble maker. Faithful people of all political stripes struggle to employ it in meaningful ways. And people of all stripes sometimes end up trumpeting passages that they like while simply ignoring those that they don't.
Most all of us do some scriptural "cherry picking," but such efforts can only lead to creating a god in our own image. A far more faithful approach might be to wrestle with difficult texts such as this one from 1 Peter. To do so will require some understanding of the passage's context, the situation of the people to whom it was first written. And it will require us to know something about the large message of the Bible so that we can hear these words in the context of many other biblical words. That is to say that wrestling with Scripture, as the term implies, requires some real effort.
Over 70 years ago Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote of The Cost of Discipleship, in contrast to "cheap grace." And what could be cheaper than embracing a few verses of Scripture that support what we already believe and labeling that faith.
In today's reading from Exodus, the Israelites head out from the Red Sea after their miraculous escape through the waters. But soon they are thirsty and, finding no drinkable water, they "complained against Moses." Moses cries out to God who gives them water. But soon they are hungry, and even though God has worked one miracle after another, they complain again. "If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger."
It's easy to belittle the Israelites' lack of faith. And I think some of us find their behavior even harder to understand because God is so obviously there for them. Look at all God has done for them. How can they fail to trust in God's provision?
I sometimes find myself wishing that God was more obviously present, like happened in biblical times. But I wonder if the biblical folks experienced it that way. Were they so different from me? Or were they perhaps exactly like me; confident when they sensed that God was there, but quickly imagining God was no longer with them the moment difficulty arose.
I've had my moments when God's presence was real, powerful, and life altering. I felt God calling me to leave a career and attend seminary. I've felt God calling me to refocus my work as a pastor. But then there are those times when I can't seem to find God. And I often find myself doubting those previous experiences of God. Were those signs really God, or was it all just coincidence? And I start to complain. I don't necessarily complain to God, but then neither do the Israelites. They complain to Moses and Aaron. Perhaps God didn't seem real enough at that moment even to merit a complaint. I know how they felt.
I know a lot of people who think that faith is believing what it says in the Bible, believing that God created the world, that Jesus died and rose. But I think that believing such things is child's play compared to the real work of faith. Faith is about trusting that God is at work in my life, that God is somehow moving events toward God's future and calling me to be a part of it, even when I can't seem to find God around me anywhere. In fact, I'm not sure there is faith, at least not in the sense the Apostle Paul speaks of it, without occasionally experiencing what feels like the absence of God.
Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. Sing praises to the LORD with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody. With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the LORD.
So goes a portion of Psalm 98. Sometimes I use similar words to open worship. But it is very easy for worship to be something other than an offering to God. For me worship is filled with logistics, worries about all the pieces coming together, not to mention delivering a sermon. For choir members it may be about doing the music they've rehearsed. People in the seats or pews may be able to worry less about such things and take it all in. But it is easy for them to become spectators and worship become something that was either good or bad depending on how they liked it.
How do we make worship something we give to God? I think this is a critical issue for many mainline congregations such as the one I serve. And I think answering this question starts with an enhanced sense that God is in our sanctuaries and worship spaces. We say that when the faithful gather together, Jesus is present with us. But it is easy to act otherwise, to act as if we are simply gathering to do a little singing and to hear someone talk about God.
How present is God in your worship? And how can we do a better job of helping others to encounter that presence.
The first line of both morning psalms speaks of God as king. Reading those lines likely shaped the way I read both the Exodus story about the golden calf and the Beatitudes in Matthew. The notion of God as king, as absolute ruler over my life, sounds great when I say it, but God often seems absent in my life, as the Israelites experienced at Mt. Sinai. And Jesus' list of those especially blessed by God is not exactly the list I would prefer. I say I'd like God to be ruler of my life, but I would also like God to conform a bit more to my notions and expectations. God should jump when I call. And God should make me feel happy and content without asking me to live at odds with the culture, and certainly without asking me to take up the cross.
