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.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - But That's Hard!
"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you... Give to everyone who begs from you... But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return... Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you."
Lots of us recognize these words as coming from Jesus. We know that Jesus says, "Love your enemies." Many of us can say the Lord's Prayer from memory, including that part where we ask for forgiveness, conditioned on our promise to forgive others. We know all these things. But we also know how hard it can be for us to forgive, how much we prefer to hate our enemy, get back at the one who hurts us, and reassure ourselves that the man on the street corner with a sign asking for help is probably scamming people.
What Jesus asks of us is hard, so hard we can't quite imagine really doing it. And so we decide that "believing in Jesus" somehow gives us a pass.
For the very first Christians almost 2000 years ago, their basic statement of faith was, "Jesus is Lord." We still invoke this title for Jesus, but it seems to me that at the core of our faith, many of us have traded Lord for Savior. We want Jesus to "save" us, though we often have very different ideas about what we need saving from. But we're less interested in Jesus being our God, our Master, the one who we will follow and obey. I try to obey Jesus to a point, as do many. But what Jesus asks is hard, sometimes very hard. Surely some of it is optional. And surely Jesus will forgive me anyway.
Sometimes I think that what I most need to be "saved" from is my own half-hearted way of following Jesus.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - Dropping Everything
I've always thought it a bit odd that Luke tells of Jesus calling his first disciples after he tells of Jesus healing Simon's mother-in-law. I find it curious that when Jesus "rebuked" her fever that this did not provoke the awe or fear Simon feels at the miraculous catch of fish in today's gospel reading.
After a full night of fishing with no success, Simon hesitates when Jesus tells him to put out into the deep water for one more try with the nets, but because Jesus says so, he agrees. And what the earlier healing had not done, the miraculous catch of fish does. Simon Peter (the name Peter appearing here for the first time) now senses the holy and dangerous, divine presence, and so he falls on his face and says, "Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
Jesus does not dispute Simon's assertion. Instead he says, "Do not be afraid; from on you will be catching people." In some ways this story in Luke looks like others in the Bible where people encounter God. Moses and Isaiah come to mind. But those other stories seem more concerned with issues of purity and sin. Moses must remove his sandals and remain at a safe distance from the bush, and Isaiah has an ember from the altar touched to his lips to purify him prior to receiving his call. But Jesus simply says, "Do not be afraid; let's go catch people" and Simon, James, and John drop everything and go with him. They walk away from what must surely have been the biggest payday of their fishing careers, and go with Jesus.
I am struck with how often Jesus seems oblivious to the normal purity issues of religion. He clearly practices his Jewish faith and honors its traditions, but when grace and gospel come into conflict with rules, he seems always to side with grace and good news.
You're a sinner? No matter; come with me. You are a leper and unclean? No matter; touch me and be healed. You need help, today, on the Sabbath? No matter; I will heal you. You're an adulteress condemned to death by the Law? No matter; I do not condemn you.
Now this doesn't mean that Jesus thinks anything goes, that he doesn't care how people act or behave. Clearly he does. He tells that adulteress, "Go, and sin no more." But Jesus' focus is rarely on religious ritual or religious purity rules. Jesus is focused on the kingdom, on God's new day when loving God with all our being and loving neighbor is how things will be, when all human life will be lived by the pattern of Jesus' life.
Just like the religious institutions of Jesus' day, churches often seem to worry more about institutional things, about rules, boundaries, and such. And while we do have concern for the sick and the poor, we tend to place this at the edges of our institutional practices. Unlike Jesus, who could regularly be found among the poor and outcast, we make occasional forays into the world of those poor people, those less fortunate than us. We worry a lot more about self preservation. We cannot even conceive of losing our institutional selves, of dying for the sake of others.
My denomination has just changed its rules for who may be ordained, removing explicit language requiring such people either to be in a marriage between a man and a woman or to be chaste in singleness. Debates around this have occupied us for over three decades. And while I believe this change aligns us closer to the ways of Jesus, I still lament the energy for sharing the good news of the Kingdom that was lost to our institutional arguing.
I sometimes wonder if we don't have too high a view of the church. And by church I'm not referring to that Spirit formed community of all the saints from every time and place, but that visible thing, that institutional thing, we construct. In this broken world, I know that structures are necessary, that we must define and help people learn what it means to live as a member of the community, seeking to help members' lives become more and more Christ-like. But at times, I wonder if we don't need just to drop everything, and follow Jesus.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
After a full night of fishing with no success, Simon hesitates when Jesus tells him to put out into the deep water for one more try with the nets, but because Jesus says so, he agrees. And what the earlier healing had not done, the miraculous catch of fish does. Simon Peter (the name Peter appearing here for the first time) now senses the holy and dangerous, divine presence, and so he falls on his face and says, "Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
Jesus does not dispute Simon's assertion. Instead he says, "Do not be afraid; from on you will be catching people." In some ways this story in Luke looks like others in the Bible where people encounter God. Moses and Isaiah come to mind. But those other stories seem more concerned with issues of purity and sin. Moses must remove his sandals and remain at a safe distance from the bush, and Isaiah has an ember from the altar touched to his lips to purify him prior to receiving his call. But Jesus simply says, "Do not be afraid; let's go catch people" and Simon, James, and John drop everything and go with him. They walk away from what must surely have been the biggest payday of their fishing careers, and go with Jesus.
I am struck with how often Jesus seems oblivious to the normal purity issues of religion. He clearly practices his Jewish faith and honors its traditions, but when grace and gospel come into conflict with rules, he seems always to side with grace and good news.
You're a sinner? No matter; come with me. You are a leper and unclean? No matter; touch me and be healed. You need help, today, on the Sabbath? No matter; I will heal you. You're an adulteress condemned to death by the Law? No matter; I do not condemn you.
Now this doesn't mean that Jesus thinks anything goes, that he doesn't care how people act or behave. Clearly he does. He tells that adulteress, "Go, and sin no more." But Jesus' focus is rarely on religious ritual or religious purity rules. Jesus is focused on the kingdom, on God's new day when loving God with all our being and loving neighbor is how things will be, when all human life will be lived by the pattern of Jesus' life.
Just like the religious institutions of Jesus' day, churches often seem to worry more about institutional things, about rules, boundaries, and such. And while we do have concern for the sick and the poor, we tend to place this at the edges of our institutional practices. Unlike Jesus, who could regularly be found among the poor and outcast, we make occasional forays into the world of those poor people, those less fortunate than us. We worry a lot more about self preservation. We cannot even conceive of losing our institutional selves, of dying for the sake of others.
My denomination has just changed its rules for who may be ordained, removing explicit language requiring such people either to be in a marriage between a man and a woman or to be chaste in singleness. Debates around this have occupied us for over three decades. And while I believe this change aligns us closer to the ways of Jesus, I still lament the energy for sharing the good news of the Kingdom that was lost to our institutional arguing.
I sometimes wonder if we don't have too high a view of the church. And by church I'm not referring to that Spirit formed community of all the saints from every time and place, but that visible thing, that institutional thing, we construct. In this broken world, I know that structures are necessary, that we must define and help people learn what it means to live as a member of the community, seeking to help members' lives become more and more Christ-like. But at times, I wonder if we don't need just to drop everything, and follow Jesus.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Spiritual Hiccups - Dropping Everything (recovered post from May 12)
I've always thought it a bit odd that Luke tells of Jesus calling his first disciples after he tells of Jesus healing Simon's mother-in-law. I find it curious that when Jesus "rebuked" her fever that this did not provoke the awe or fear Simon feels at the miraculous catch of fish in today's gospel reading.
After a full night of fishing with no success, Simon hesitates when Jesus tells him to put out into the deep water for one more try with the nets, but because Jesus says so, he agrees. And what the earlier healing had not done, the miraculous catch of fish does. Simon Peter (the name Peter appearing here for the first time) now senses the holy and dangerous, divine presence, and so he falls on his face and says, "Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
Jesus does not dispute Simon's assertion. Instead he says, "Do not be afraid; from on you will be catching people." In some ways this story in Luke looks like others in the Bible where people encounter God. Moses and Isaiah come to mind. But those other stories seem more concerned with issues of purity and sin. Moses must remove his sandals and remain at a safe distance from the bush, and Isaiah has an ember from the altar touched to his lips to purify him prior to receiving his call. But Jesus simply says, "Do not be afraid; let's go catch people" and Simon, James, and John drop everything and go with him. They walk away from what must surely have been the biggest payday of their fishing careers, and go with Jesus.
I am struck with how often Jesus seems oblivious to the normal purity issues of religion. He clearly practices his Jewish faith and honors its traditions, but when grace and gospel come into conflict with rules, he seems always to side with grace and good news.
You're a sinner? No matter; come with me. You are a leper and unclean? No matter; touch me and be healed. You need help, today, on the Sabbath? No matter; I will heal you. You're an adulteress condemned to death by the Law? No matter; I do not condemn you.
Now this doesn't mean that Jesus thinks anything goes, that he doesn't care how people act or behave. Clearly he does. He tells that adulteress, "Go, and sin no more." But Jesus' focus is rarely on religious ritual or religious purity rules. Jesus is focused on the kingdom, on God's new day when loving God with all our being and loving neighbor is how things will be, when all human life will be lived by the pattern of Jesus' life.
Just like the religious institutions of Jesus' day, churches often seem to worry more about institutional things, about rules, boundaries, and such. And while we do have concern for the sick and the poor, we tend to place this at the edges of our institutional practices. Unlike Jesus, who could regularly be found among the poor and outcast, we make occasional forays into the world of those poor people, those less fortunate than us. We worry a lot more about self preservation. We cannot even conceive of losing our institutional selves, of dying for the sake of others.
My denomination has just changed its rules for who may be ordained, removing explicit language requiring such people either to be in a marriage between a man and a woman or to be chaste in singleness. Debates around this have occupied us for over three decades. And while I believe this change aligns us closer to the ways of Jesus, I still lament the energy for sharing the good news of the Kingdom that was lost to our institutional arguing.
I sometimes wonder if we don't have too high a view of the church. And by church I'm not referring to that Spirit formed community of all the saints from every time and place, but that visible thing, that institutional thing, we construct. In this broken world, I know that structures are necessary, that we must define and help people learn what it means to live as a member of the community, seeking to help members' lives become more and more Christ-like. But at times, I wonder if we don't need just to drop everything, and follow Jesus.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
After a full night of fishing with no success, Simon hesitates when Jesus tells him to put out into the deep water for one more try with the nets, but because Jesus says so, he agrees. And what the earlier healing had not done, the miraculous catch of fish does. Simon Peter (the name Peter appearing here for the first time) now senses the holy and dangerous, divine presence, and so he falls on his face and says, "Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
Jesus does not dispute Simon's assertion. Instead he says, "Do not be afraid; from on you will be catching people." In some ways this story in Luke looks like others in the Bible where people encounter God. Moses and Isaiah come to mind. But those other stories seem more concerned with issues of purity and sin. Moses must remove his sandals and remain at a safe distance from the bush, and Isaiah has an ember from the altar touched to his lips to purify him prior to receiving his call. But Jesus simply says, "Do not be afraid; let's go catch people" and Simon, James, and John drop everything and go with him. They walk away from what must surely have been the biggest payday of their fishing careers, and go with Jesus.
I am struck with how often Jesus seems oblivious to the normal purity issues of religion. He clearly practices his Jewish faith and honors its traditions, but when grace and gospel come into conflict with rules, he seems always to side with grace and good news.
You're a sinner? No matter; come with me. You are a leper and unclean? No matter; touch me and be healed. You need help, today, on the Sabbath? No matter; I will heal you. You're an adulteress condemned to death by the Law? No matter; I do not condemn you.
Now this doesn't mean that Jesus thinks anything goes, that he doesn't care how people act or behave. Clearly he does. He tells that adulteress, "Go, and sin no more." But Jesus' focus is rarely on religious ritual or religious purity rules. Jesus is focused on the kingdom, on God's new day when loving God with all our being and loving neighbor is how things will be, when all human life will be lived by the pattern of Jesus' life.
Just like the religious institutions of Jesus' day, churches often seem to worry more about institutional things, about rules, boundaries, and such. And while we do have concern for the sick and the poor, we tend to place this at the edges of our institutional practices. Unlike Jesus, who could regularly be found among the poor and outcast, we make occasional forays into the world of those poor people, those less fortunate than us. We worry a lot more about self preservation. We cannot even conceive of losing our institutional selves, of dying for the sake of others.
My denomination has just changed its rules for who may be ordained, removing explicit language requiring such people either to be in a marriage between a man and a woman or to be chaste in singleness. Debates around this have occupied us for over three decades. And while I believe this change aligns us closer to the ways of Jesus, I still lament the energy for sharing the good news of the Kingdom that was lost to our institutional arguing.
I sometimes wonder if we don't have too high a view of the church. And by church I'm not referring to that Spirit formed community of all the saints from every time and place, but that visible thing, that institutional thing, we construct. In this broken world, I know that structures are necessary, that we must define and help people learn what it means to live as a member of the community, seeking to help members' lives become more and more Christ-like. But at times, I wonder if we don't need just to drop everything, and follow Jesus.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Spiritual Hiccups - God Looks Like This
"He is the image of the invisible God." So begins today's reading from Colossians, speaking, of course, about Jesus. I read somewhere - I'm not sure, but it might have been something by Brian McLaren - that rather than speaking of Jesus being like God in some way, we might come at it the other way round. What if we made Jesus the standard and simply said, God is like Jesus?
Most Christians profess to be Trinitarian in some way. I often end worship here with the blessings of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But practically speaking, many people tend to think of God as Father, with Son and Holy Spirit as junior partners. They're derivative in some way, offshoots. You can detect this in the prayer language people use, speaking to "Father God." They never pray to "Spirit God" or "Jesus God," only "Father God."
God looks like Jesus. That's what "image of the invisible God" sounds like to me. Not that Jesus is a stand in for God, or God's stunt double, but when we see Jesus, we see God. We can look at Jesus and say, that's what God is like. That's how God acts. That's how God is.
Growing up in the Church, Jesus seemed to me important mostly for what he did. His death on the cross got us something and that was why he mattered. I picked up the Trinitarian language, but Jesus wasn't my image of God. Jesus was intermediary or sacrifice.
I wonder how Christianity and the Church might look differently if we thought more in terms of Jesus being the face of God, the way of God, the essence of God?
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Most Christians profess to be Trinitarian in some way. I often end worship here with the blessings of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But practically speaking, many people tend to think of God as Father, with Son and Holy Spirit as junior partners. They're derivative in some way, offshoots. You can detect this in the prayer language people use, speaking to "Father God." They never pray to "Spirit God" or "Jesus God," only "Father God."
God looks like Jesus. That's what "image of the invisible God" sounds like to me. Not that Jesus is a stand in for God, or God's stunt double, but when we see Jesus, we see God. We can look at Jesus and say, that's what God is like. That's how God acts. That's how God is.
Growing up in the Church, Jesus seemed to me important mostly for what he did. His death on the cross got us something and that was why he mattered. I picked up the Trinitarian language, but Jesus wasn't my image of God. Jesus was intermediary or sacrifice.
I wonder how Christianity and the Church might look differently if we thought more in terms of Jesus being the face of God, the way of God, the essence of God?
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - Living within the Tension
Almost all religions have purity or holiness standards. At the burning bush, Moses is commanded to take off his sandals because he is on holy ground. Worship itself is a statement that they rhythms of life require regular cessation of all other activities so that we may focus ourselves totally on God. The notion of a special day or Sabbath for worship helps enforce such rhythms. Any number of religious rituals are related to purity . I've always been amazed at the number of people with no church affiliation who nonetheless want their infant children to be baptized. Something very similar goes on with secular Jews and circumcision.
In recent years, a large number of young people have been attracted ancient Christian rituals as disparate as walking labyrinths to monastic chants to Eastern Orthodox worship. Some of this may be the novelty and exotic nature of these rituals, but some is the recognition that drawing near to the divine demands that we step out of regular, mundane, even profane patterns and into patterns that are more resonate with the holy.
The Bible is filled with "holiness codes" and calls for us to be a holy people and a holy priesthood. But the Bible is also filled with calls to love one's neighbor and even to love one's enemy. It requires compassion for the weak, the vulnerable, and the outcast. And these calls to love and compassion do not always rest easily beside calls to holiness and purity, as evidenced by how often Jesus found himself embroiled in conflict over Sabbath keeping.
During the Babylonian exile, Sabbath keeping had emerged as the central Jewish ritual. It had allowed them to maintain their distinct identity as the people of Yahweh while captive in a foreign land ordered around foreign gods. Both Sabbath keeping and synagogue grew out of exile and were central to the Judaism Jesus knew and practiced. And yet he constantly came in conflict with the Sabbath rules.
The rabbis and Pharisees were never so rigid as to deny any tension between purity and compassion. They created exceptions to Sabbath rules that allowed "work" on the Sabbath to save a life or rescue someone in distress. But Jesus pressed beyond such exceptions when he healed a man with a withered hand in today's gospel. There was not emergency. Jesus could have waited until sundown when the Sabbath was ended. But he doesn't.
Jesus never speaks against purity. Jesus honors the Sabbath and calls his followers to holiness and righteousness. But when Jesus is faced with a conflict between the demands of holiness and the demands of compassion, he routinely finds ways to move in the direction of compassion without ever abandoning holiness and purity.
In our culture, tensions between purity and compassion are easy to find. The Westboro Baptist folks who protest military funerals with "God Hates Fags" signs are an extreme example of purity advocates. But even fairly progressive religious groups such as my own denomination struggle with this same purity issue. And even though we Presbyterians have recently approved changes that will lead to the ordination of gays and lesbians, a very large majority of our members believe such a move to be an affront to purity and holiness, and an affront to God.
At the other end of the spectrum are people who think all issues of purity to be superstitious relics. Doing what is right and good require no rituals or concerns about holiness. These folks note that many atheists do much more good in the world than do many Christians, which is of course completely true. And even among many church folks, rituals such as Sabbath keeping have all but disappeared. At times it is difficult to tell the atheist from the agnostic from the Christian except by which box they check on the survey form.
For whatever reason, we humans seem not to like tensions. We want to resolve them. Much of the differences between churches who proclaim a vengeful God of judgment who is itching to send the reprobate to hell, and churches who preach a benevolent God of grace whose love would not even permit the existence of a hell, arise from how they resolve the tensions between purity and compassion, holiness and love, judgment and mercy, etc.
But resolving these tensions in one way or another usually creates a small god of our own making. A dynamic, vital faith requires that we live within the tension between holiness and compassion, law and grace, mercy and judgment. We cannot simply pick one or the other. We cannot flatten God to conform to our limitations and preferences.
And so I believe that a vital faith and a vital church require us to vigilant with regards to our dislike of tension. If we are on the progressive/liberal side of things we must beware our tendency to see only the side of compassion, mercy, and love. And if we are on the more conservative side, we must beware our tendency toward law, judgment, and purity. Otherwise none of us will arrive at anything close to a biblical faith, instead constructing a proof-text faith that creates God in our own image.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
In recent years, a large number of young people have been attracted ancient Christian rituals as disparate as walking labyrinths to monastic chants to Eastern Orthodox worship. Some of this may be the novelty and exotic nature of these rituals, but some is the recognition that drawing near to the divine demands that we step out of regular, mundane, even profane patterns and into patterns that are more resonate with the holy.
The Bible is filled with "holiness codes" and calls for us to be a holy people and a holy priesthood. But the Bible is also filled with calls to love one's neighbor and even to love one's enemy. It requires compassion for the weak, the vulnerable, and the outcast. And these calls to love and compassion do not always rest easily beside calls to holiness and purity, as evidenced by how often Jesus found himself embroiled in conflict over Sabbath keeping.
During the Babylonian exile, Sabbath keeping had emerged as the central Jewish ritual. It had allowed them to maintain their distinct identity as the people of Yahweh while captive in a foreign land ordered around foreign gods. Both Sabbath keeping and synagogue grew out of exile and were central to the Judaism Jesus knew and practiced. And yet he constantly came in conflict with the Sabbath rules.
The rabbis and Pharisees were never so rigid as to deny any tension between purity and compassion. They created exceptions to Sabbath rules that allowed "work" on the Sabbath to save a life or rescue someone in distress. But Jesus pressed beyond such exceptions when he healed a man with a withered hand in today's gospel. There was not emergency. Jesus could have waited until sundown when the Sabbath was ended. But he doesn't.
Jesus never speaks against purity. Jesus honors the Sabbath and calls his followers to holiness and righteousness. But when Jesus is faced with a conflict between the demands of holiness and the demands of compassion, he routinely finds ways to move in the direction of compassion without ever abandoning holiness and purity.
In our culture, tensions between purity and compassion are easy to find. The Westboro Baptist folks who protest military funerals with "God Hates Fags" signs are an extreme example of purity advocates. But even fairly progressive religious groups such as my own denomination struggle with this same purity issue. And even though we Presbyterians have recently approved changes that will lead to the ordination of gays and lesbians, a very large majority of our members believe such a move to be an affront to purity and holiness, and an affront to God.
At the other end of the spectrum are people who think all issues of purity to be superstitious relics. Doing what is right and good require no rituals or concerns about holiness. These folks note that many atheists do much more good in the world than do many Christians, which is of course completely true. And even among many church folks, rituals such as Sabbath keeping have all but disappeared. At times it is difficult to tell the atheist from the agnostic from the Christian except by which box they check on the survey form.
For whatever reason, we humans seem not to like tensions. We want to resolve them. Much of the differences between churches who proclaim a vengeful God of judgment who is itching to send the reprobate to hell, and churches who preach a benevolent God of grace whose love would not even permit the existence of a hell, arise from how they resolve the tensions between purity and compassion, holiness and love, judgment and mercy, etc.
But resolving these tensions in one way or another usually creates a small god of our own making. A dynamic, vital faith requires that we live within the tension between holiness and compassion, law and grace, mercy and judgment. We cannot simply pick one or the other. We cannot flatten God to conform to our limitations and preferences.
And so I believe that a vital faith and a vital church require us to vigilant with regards to our dislike of tension. If we are on the progressive/liberal side of things we must beware our tendency to see only the side of compassion, mercy, and love. And if we are on the more conservative side, we must beware our tendency toward law, judgment, and purity. Otherwise none of us will arrive at anything close to a biblical faith, instead constructing a proof-text faith that creates God in our own image.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Sunday Sermon text - Abundance
Acts 2:42-47; John 10:1-10
Abundance
James Sledge May 15, 2011
About ten years ago, a little book called The Prayer of Jabez came out, offering to teach you the secrets of “breaking through to the blessed life.” It quickly became a best seller, and as often happens when something “religious” becomes extremely popular, many churches started offering classes and seminars based on the book, and the ministry founded by the author made available a DVD set and workbook, not to mention Prayer of Jabez greeting cards, a Prayer of Jabez journal, and so on.
Now if you had never heard of Jabez before this book came out, there is good reason. Even serious students of the Bible easily could have missed Jabez’s solitary appearance in 1 Chronicles. That’s obscure enough, but Jabez’s brief moment is embedded in a long genealogy of the descendants of Judah, one of Jacob’s sons. Sandwiched between the listings of Ahuzzam, Hepher, Temeni, and Zobebah; Chelub, Shuhah, Kenaz, and Hathath – every one of which my computer’s spellcheck flagged in red – we meet Jabez.
It turns out that the name Jabez is related to the Hebrew word for pain, and he has received this rather troublesome name because his mother experienced a great deal of pain in childbirth. But she had more than gotten back at her son. In the thinking of ancient Israelites, names had real power, and to name her son Jabez was to curse him in a way.
To call someone “Pain” or “Hurt” was to fate him to a life of pain and hurt. But Jabez called out to God asking to be blessed instead, and God granted his prayer.It’s difficult to know exactly what to make of these two brief verses in the Bible. It seems likely they are fragments of a larger story, but still it seems reasonable to conclude that they means to say something about the saving power of God. Even though Jabez is cursed by his name and fate, God’s power to save and bless is greater.
Based on my admittedly cursory reading of the book, The Prayer of Jabez, I’m not certain its author fully appreciates this. Rather, he seems to have appropriated Jabez’s prayer as a kind of magic formula. Say this prayer every morning and great things will happen to you. A look at The Prayer of Jabez website seems to confirm this. There you can download studies on scripturally based financial freedom, spiritual principles for obtaining God’s blessings, for profitable personal godliness, and more. Learn the secrets that will allow you to tap into God’s power to make you wealthy and happy and whatever else you are seeking.
In our gospel today, Jesus says, “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture… I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” Images of sheep and shepherds are foreign to many of us, but even we recognize that finding pasture is about provision, about preparing a table for us, and this abundantly. We will have all we need and more. God’s blessings will rain down on us. We’ll achieve financial freedom. Our cups will overflow.
Food and drink are often associated with abundance: $600 an ounce caviar, a $500 bottle of Dom Perignon champagne (more than $1000 if you want a really good year), and a $300 Kobe beef steak. Ah, the good life, the abundant life.
Interestingly, food is mentioned several times in today’s reading from Acts, although there’s no caviar or Dom Perignon. In the span of five short verses we hear twice about breaking bread, and of how they ate their food with glad and generous hearts. But this joyful fellowship and dining doesn’t have the feel of Bon Appétit or Wine Enthusiast magazines. After all, we are told that they had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. That hardly fits with the typical understanding of abundance, which usually means, “I have more than you do. I can afford better stuff than you can.”
I’m not sure when I first learned that Jesus promises us abundant life. It seems to me that I’ve always “known” this. Jesus came that we might have life, and have it abundantly. So you can imagine my surprise when I did a little digging and discovered that the phrase “abundant life” appears nowhere in the Bible. And the word Jesus uses when he speaks of our having life “abundantly” is quite rare. Only here is it translated “abundantly.” Elsewhere it is translated “more” or “unnecessary,” but a quick trip to the Greek dictionary showed that the first definition is “extraordinary” or “remarkable.”
I thought about that and heard Jesus saying, “I came that they may have life, and have it remarkably, extraordinarily.” And it occurred to me that the life of the community described in our reading from Acts was pretty remarkable and extraordinary, a Spirit filled community marked by fellowship and worship, by radical sharing where everyone had enough, a community filled with gladness and generosity. No wonder they had the goodwill of all the people, Jew and Gentile alike. It was such a remarkable, extraordinary community how could people not notice, not admire it, not want something similar for themselves?
This extraordinary community in Acts is not something they created by trying hard. It was a gift. As the people gave themselves over to God’s presence, the Spirit began to transform their community so that it started to look more like God’s coming Kingdom than it did the world. Too often, people think of faith as a way to get God on our side and bless us with all the things the world says we need. But this remarkable community in Acts is something altogether different. It has become a preview of God’s new day, God’s dream for a better world, a world of joy and generosity.
I shared during our Lenten study that Shawn and I used to be big fans of the TV show ER. The show ran from 1994 to 2009, and for the first eight seasons Anthony Edwards starred as Dr. Mark Green. One of the real tearjerker episodes on ER was when Mark Green dies. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor that did not respond to treatments. Finally, with only a short time left to live, he journeyed to Hawaii, where he had lived as a child, to die. In his last moments, he has some time alone with his daughter. Lying in his bed he tells her that he has been trying to think of something important to say to her, “something every father should impart to his daughter. Generosity,” he says. “Be generous— with your time, with your love, with your life.”
We Christians are often very good at charity, at doing things for people who need help, bringing food for those less fortunate than us. But I’m not sure charity is quite the same thing that Mark Green was recommending to his daughter. I think maybe Mark Green had discovered something akin to what that remarkable community in Acts had discovered, something I think that a lot of people would be overjoyed to discover.
Regulars in worship here know that I am not one to use poetry in my sermons. But as I was finishing work on this one, I stumbled onto a poem by Walter Brueggemann, scholar, theologian, Old Testament professor, and wonderful writer. It is called “On Generosity,” and since this poem is also a prayer, I think I will pray it. Let us pray.
On our own, we conclude:
that there is not enough to go around
we are going to run short
of money
of love
of grades
of publications
of sex
of beer
of members
of years
of life
we should seize the day
seize the goods
seize our neighbor’s goods
because there is not enough to go around.
And in the midst of our perceived deficit:
You come
You come giving bread in the wilderness
You come giving children at the 11th hour
You come giving homes to exiles
You come giving futures to the shut-down
You come giving Easter joy to the dead
You come—fleshed in Jesus.
And we watch while
the blind receive their sight
the lame walk
the lepers are cleansed
the deaf hear
the dead are raised
the poor dance and sing.
We watch
and we take food we did not grow and
life we did not invent and
future that is gift and gift and gift and
families and neighbors who sustain us
when we did not deserve it.
It dawns on us—late rather than soon—
that “you give food in due season
you open your hand
and satisfy the desire of every living thing.”
By your giving, break our cycles of imagined scarcity
override our presumed deficits
quiet our anxieties of lack
transform our perceptual field to see
the abundance… mercy upon mercy
blessing upon blessing.
Sink your generosity deep into our lives
that your muchness may expose our false lack
that endlessly receiving, we may endlessly give,
so that the world may be made Easter new,
without greedy lack, but only wonder
without coercive need, but only love
without destructive greed, but only praise
without aggression and invasiveness…
all things Easter new…
all around us, toward us and
by us
all things Easter new.
Finish your creation… in wonder, love, and praise. Amen. [1]
Amen.
[1] Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2004) p. 3.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - Now What?
"Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God,"says today's reading from first John. Can it really be that simple? Are all who hold that Jesus is from God and reveals to us the true nature of God fellow children of God, brothers and sisters in Christ?
If this is true, then the Christian Church sure has problems living in ways that demonstrate it. Sometimes we seem to be much better at dividing over our differences than we are at acting like brothers and sisters, like one family. Some of our divisions are minor, and don't really undo family ties. Members of my own, biological family have different tastes, interests, politics, preferences, etc. and agreeing on all of these is not a requisite for being a family. I'm unaware of anyone in my family ever stating that only Republicans or Democrats could stay, or that an appreciation of classical music was required to come for Christmas dinner.
And so I'm not all that worried over the fact that different Christian congregations worship in different ways, prefer different sorts of buildings, or forms of governance. We can be family without agreeing on these things. At least we can until someone states that you must like this worship style or abide by this form of church government in order to be a real Christian. Such statements are rare, it turns out. However, when issues get a bit more substantive, this is not always true.
Yesterday the Presbyterian Church (USA) passed an amendment to its constitution that will allow the ordination of gays and lesbians who are in same-sex relationships. Exact figures are difficult to come by, but the votes so far suggest that a bit over 55% of those voting favored this change, which of course means that nearly 45% didn't. And many of those who didn't see this change as an abandonment of biblical teachings. I disagree with them, but the more burning issue for me at this point is: Are we still brothers and sisters in Christ?
I've already heard of threats from some who want to leave the denomination as well as "Don't let the door hit you on the way out" comments from some happy with yesterday's outcome. My hope is these are emotional outbursts in the midst of a family squabble. My hope is that when emotions cool a bit we will still say to one another, "I love you, sister. I love you, brother."
A lot of biological families can be a bit on the dysfunctional side, and probably none of us come from families with no dysfunction. But for most families, the family connection somehow remains intact. Church congregations are every bit as dysfunctional as biological families. But for some reason, the family connection often seems more tenuous there. But how can this be when our family connection is Christ?
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
If this is true, then the Christian Church sure has problems living in ways that demonstrate it. Sometimes we seem to be much better at dividing over our differences than we are at acting like brothers and sisters, like one family. Some of our divisions are minor, and don't really undo family ties. Members of my own, biological family have different tastes, interests, politics, preferences, etc. and agreeing on all of these is not a requisite for being a family. I'm unaware of anyone in my family ever stating that only Republicans or Democrats could stay, or that an appreciation of classical music was required to come for Christmas dinner.
And so I'm not all that worried over the fact that different Christian congregations worship in different ways, prefer different sorts of buildings, or forms of governance. We can be family without agreeing on these things. At least we can until someone states that you must like this worship style or abide by this form of church government in order to be a real Christian. Such statements are rare, it turns out. However, when issues get a bit more substantive, this is not always true.
Yesterday the Presbyterian Church (USA) passed an amendment to its constitution that will allow the ordination of gays and lesbians who are in same-sex relationships. Exact figures are difficult to come by, but the votes so far suggest that a bit over 55% of those voting favored this change, which of course means that nearly 45% didn't. And many of those who didn't see this change as an abandonment of biblical teachings. I disagree with them, but the more burning issue for me at this point is: Are we still brothers and sisters in Christ?
I've already heard of threats from some who want to leave the denomination as well as "Don't let the door hit you on the way out" comments from some happy with yesterday's outcome. My hope is these are emotional outbursts in the midst of a family squabble. My hope is that when emotions cool a bit we will still say to one another, "I love you, sister. I love you, brother."
A lot of biological families can be a bit on the dysfunctional side, and probably none of us come from families with no dysfunction. But for most families, the family connection somehow remains intact. Church congregations are every bit as dysfunctional as biological families. But for some reason, the family connection often seems more tenuous there. But how can this be when our family connection is Christ?
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - Victory, Loss, and Love
Barring some remarkable, unexpected turn, my denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), will today pass an amendment to our Book of Order removing the requirement that all to be ordained (as pastor, elder, or deacon) must live either in the covenant of marriage between a man and a woman, or in chaste singleness. And while the soon to be removed language did not use the words gay, lesbian, or homosexual, the bulk of our arguments have revolved around whether or not we will ordain those in same sex relationships.
Exactly how this change will be lived out and the impact it will have remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: some will be overjoyed at the threshold crossed today, and others will be deeply upset and angry. And a huge question facing us in light of this is: How will we love one another?
"Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love." These words from 1 John compose a challenge to us regardless of where we stand on the issues. And if I am to love the other, I must consider how my actions impact them.
I am among those who welcomes this day, who will rejoice when the vote today creates a majority of presbyteries in favor of changing our ordination standards. But I also believe that the command to love is especially incumbent upon "winners."
We live in a time when end zone celebrations by players who have scored a touchdown are an accepted part of football games. Such celebrations are far from genuine eruptions of joy. Rather, they are choreographed routines that sometimes seek to embarrass and show up the opponent.
Consideration for "the other" is often far down our list of things to do. But Christians are called to be a different sort of community. We are called to model an alternative way of being and living in the world. And I can think of few places where the opportunity to be different is greater than at moments such as this.
How will we love one another? That is a question we must ask ourselves whether we are thrilled or terrified at today's outcome. It is a question we must ask whether we are convinced this opens the way to a bold new day for the church or we are convinced that it spells doom for the church. Whether we weep or rejoice or don't know what we think, we are still called to love one another. And if "in Christ" we were truly to do that, what an amazing witness that might be to the world.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Exactly how this change will be lived out and the impact it will have remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: some will be overjoyed at the threshold crossed today, and others will be deeply upset and angry. And a huge question facing us in light of this is: How will we love one another?
"Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love." These words from 1 John compose a challenge to us regardless of where we stand on the issues. And if I am to love the other, I must consider how my actions impact them.
I am among those who welcomes this day, who will rejoice when the vote today creates a majority of presbyteries in favor of changing our ordination standards. But I also believe that the command to love is especially incumbent upon "winners."
We live in a time when end zone celebrations by players who have scored a touchdown are an accepted part of football games. Such celebrations are far from genuine eruptions of joy. Rather, they are choreographed routines that sometimes seek to embarrass and show up the opponent.
Consideration for "the other" is often far down our list of things to do. But Christians are called to be a different sort of community. We are called to model an alternative way of being and living in the world. And I can think of few places where the opportunity to be different is greater than at moments such as this.
How will we love one another? That is a question we must ask ourselves whether we are thrilled or terrified at today's outcome. It is a question we must ask whether we are convinced this opens the way to a bold new day for the church or we are convinced that it spells doom for the church. Whether we weep or rejoice or don't know what we think, we are still called to love one another. And if "in Christ" we were truly to do that, what an amazing witness that might be to the world.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Spiritual Hiccups - Troublemaker Jesus
Luke's gospel puts an interesting spin on the story of Jesus visiting his hometown of Nazareth. Luke not only places this story earlier than in Matthew or Mark, but in Luke, Jesus seems to provoke the crowd's upset. In Matthew and Mark, people are put off by the fact that they know Jesus and "know" that he's not anyone all that special. But in Luke, "all speak well of (Jesus);" at least they do until he begins reminding them of times when God helped outsiders over Israelites.
Very few pastors would dare speak to their congregations the way Jesus does the folks at Nazareth. It is a prescription for disaster. The synagogue folks tried to kill Jesus. Not likely to happen to a pastor, but she's probably be looking for a new job pretty quickly if she didn't display a little more tact than Jesus did.
Almost all cultures weave a dominant religion into their status quo. Step into a typical church sanctuary in America, and you will likely find an American flag displayed somewhere. Many of those churches' members presume that national interests and God's interests run roughly parallel. Nations aren't perfect and so there are some problems, but by and large...
When I get myself in trouble as a pastor, it usually isn't because I've taken a bold but unpopular stand on some issue. More likely it is because I didn't think before I spoke, that I wasn't paying attention to other people's feelings, or I was just being a dolt. And when I try to improve as a pastor, along with learning to preach better sermons or do better strategic planning, I want to improve my "people skills." I worry about communicating well without giving offense, keeping people happy, doing things in a loving manner, etc.
I still think these important things for me to work on, but I also wonder sometimes about how rarely I encounter the sort of hostility Jesus did. Maybe my political and people skills are better than his were. Or maybe I'm just a coward.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
Very few pastors would dare speak to their congregations the way Jesus does the folks at Nazareth. It is a prescription for disaster. The synagogue folks tried to kill Jesus. Not likely to happen to a pastor, but she's probably be looking for a new job pretty quickly if she didn't display a little more tact than Jesus did.
Almost all cultures weave a dominant religion into their status quo. Step into a typical church sanctuary in America, and you will likely find an American flag displayed somewhere. Many of those churches' members presume that national interests and God's interests run roughly parallel. Nations aren't perfect and so there are some problems, but by and large...
When I get myself in trouble as a pastor, it usually isn't because I've taken a bold but unpopular stand on some issue. More likely it is because I didn't think before I spoke, that I wasn't paying attention to other people's feelings, or I was just being a dolt. And when I try to improve as a pastor, along with learning to preach better sermons or do better strategic planning, I want to improve my "people skills." I worry about communicating well without giving offense, keeping people happy, doing things in a loving manner, etc.
I still think these important things for me to work on, but I also wonder sometimes about how rarely I encounter the sort of hostility Jesus did. Maybe my political and people skills are better than his were. Or maybe I'm just a coward.
Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.
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