Make Me Captive, and I'll Be Free

I recently received something in the mail asking our church to ring its bells on a particular date in celebration of freedom.  Thanks to a vacation, I didn't get the chance to deal with it until after the date in question so I didn't pay much attention to the details. I do recall it used the phrase, "let freedom ring," and it prominently displayed stars and stripes on the letterhead.

I get a lot of such mail, activities and events aimed at churches but with a strong patriotic fervor to them. Some of this simply acknowledges that faith did play a part in America's break with England all those years ago.  (Back in Britain, the American Revolution was sometimes referred to as the Presbyterian rebellion.)  But still, much of the flag draped, faith oriented mail I get seems to assume that American notions of freedom are right in line with Christian understandings of freedom.

Secular freedom only creates individualists, and private freedom, but not a society. It never gets around to the common good, which is a central principle of Catholic social teaching and the Gospel, which demands from you and demands for others. Then you become who you most deeply and truly are, a member of a family, a neighborhood, a society, and a planet. If you are trying to “go to heaven” alone or on your own merits, you are preparing for a place other than heaven.

This is a part of Fr. Richard Rohr's daily devotion for today. He is talking about how many of us think of freedom as being able to do what we want and not do what we don't want.  But as he points out, this looks very little like the way Jesus lives or the way he calls us to live.  Jesus says, "Not my will but yours." He says we must become servants and slaves to all, and in today's gospel he speaks of his death saying, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also." (In the hyperbolic speech of the Middle East, "hate their life" is a colorful and forceful way of saying "love their life less" than they love serving Jesus.)

St. Augustine wrote of God's grace making our wills willing. In other words, freedom is of little use to us until we want the things that God wants, until we truly want the things that we know are good and right. Think of all those times we do things that we regret even as we do them. Think of all those promises to ourselves that we break.  Think of how fractured our society has become because so few of us can bear the thought of giving up our freedoms for the sake of another.

We don't need more freedom.  We need a different understanding of freedom.  There's a hymn in The Presbyterian Hymnal with this opening line. "Make me a captive, Lord, and I shall be free."  A later verse begins, "My will is not my own till Thou hast made it Thine." Those strike me as pretty good descriptions of Christian freedom.  Might we all be so free.

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Sermon video: Who Do You Say That We Are?

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Which Prince To Trust

Do not put your trust in princes,
   in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
   on that very day their plans perish.   from Ps 146

Living inside the DC Beltway, in the swing state of Virginia, there is no escaping the presidential election. It is everywhere I turn, and even though I tend to be a bit of a political junkie, I am tired enough of it to be getting a bit snarky. Once or twice I have found it impossible not to comment on someone's politically oriented Facebook post, a practice I normally avoid.

My snarkiness aside, we Americans do make a big deal about presidential races. We don't have kings or queens of princes. And so I suppose that presidents are as close as we get. I saw an interesting piece on presidential elections today in The Christian Century. It commented on the candidates attempts to make personal connections with voters, but then it said this.

   But the primary problem with American political culture isn’t that we emphasize the wrong things when we scrutinize presidential candidates. It’s that too much of our scrutiny goes to these two human beings in the first place.
   Americans overestimate what a president can do. The office is certainly more powerful than it used to be, especially when it comes to foreign policy. But on domestic issues, the main focus of this election, presidents are greatly constrained by the federal system of checks and balances—and by the fact that many decisions fall to state and local officials.

I think that most of us know this to some degree. We realize that no president can get much done if Congress doesn't help out, yet we may not even know the names of those running for our congressional district seat.

People have accused President Obama of messianic pretensions, but it seems we all tend to place unrealistic hopes and dreams on our choice for prince. The psalm today warns us about this, but few of us heed such warnings. One candidate will save us, but the other will lead to our destruction.  Such is the power of princes to us.

The psalms' warning on princes takes notice of their mortality. The day will come when they are gone. The world will still be here, and God will still be in charge. But in our fascination with princes, this is "the most important election of our lifetime," or for some, "the most important election in history."  Hardly. Perhaps it isn't just princes we overestimate. We have an inflated sense of our own importance and imagine that history hinges right where we are, on the very issues that concern us.

I just started reading MaryAnn McKibben Dana's book, Sabbath in the Suburbs: A Family's Experiment with Holy Time. I've not gotten far, but as I read of her family's struggle to implement Sabbath keeping, I saw a metaphor for much that traps and enslaves us, that makes us anxious and afraid that things could slip away from us if we are not ever vigilant, ever busy, ever careful. We cannot leave anything to chance. Too much is depending on us at this critical juncture in history.

But of course our breath with soon depart us as well. The world will still be here, and God will still be in charge. But if my candidate doesn't win...

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Honeymoons, Stewardship, and Love

I just got back from my first vacation since coming to Falls Church, and it feels a bit different to come back to a place that is not yet home.  I was in Columbus, OH for over 11 years, and I've been here a bit over 4 months.  One of the lessons I'm relearning is that it takes a while to get to know a congregation.This is hardly surprising.  Couples get married after months or years as a couple yet often struggle in that first year of marriage as they get to know one another more fully. 

Not so coincidentally, people speak of a honeymoon period for new pastors.  There's not set time for how long this lasts, though some say a year or less is common. The actual end is usually marked by some sort of conflict, and that conflict is often the born of the congregation figuring out the new pastor is not who they thought he was, or the pastor figuring out the congregation is not what she thought it was, or both things together.

In this "getting to know one another" phase, there is a certain generic nature to ministry.  By that I mean that sermons tend to be more generic because I don't know the congregation well enough to ascertain how certain issues do or don't apply. I don't know how people will respond to certain sorts of statements by me.  After all, they don't know me well either and aren't used to my preaching style or other idiosyncrasies.

Now we are drawing close to my first Stewardship Season here, and so I'm a tad nervous.  Money can be a touchy topic in both marriages and churches, and churches can be very different in how they approach issues of money.  I know of churches where the pastor is not allowed to know how much anyone gives or even who gives and who doesn't.  But in other churches the pastor is expected to speak with members who don't give or whose giving patterns seem "problematic."  And churches have very different patterns of talking about stewardship and raising money for church budgets.

And so I was a struck to read today's gospel and discover a stewardship oriented gospel on my first day back in the office. It's John's version of the anointing at Bethany. It shows up in Matthew and Mark as well, and a similar story occurs in Luke.  I say that it's stewardship oriented because it features extravagant generosity along with a budget conscious critique of that extravagance. (In John's gospel we're told this critique is from Judas and disingenuous, but in Matthew and Mark the other disciples offer the critique with no mention of ulterior motives.)

Now here I have to be generic because of not knowing the congregation well enough. Generically speaking, church stewardship discussions often have more in common with the disciples' comments than the extravagant generosity that Jesus praises. Mention tithing and people immediately start talking formulas. "Is that a tenth of pre-tax or after tax income?" And stewardship is often simply fund raising called by another name.  It is often not viewed as a spiritual issue, as a part of our call to follow Jesus, or as an expression of love.

In my experience, people are generally extravagant toward things they love. When people are passionate about something, whether that is gardening, golf, or music, they will spend huge amounts of time, money, and energy on that passion. The same is true when people have a deep passion about a cause. Extravagance towards oneself is not all that unusual. And people who have fallen in love are very prone to extravagances toward the object of their affection. In fact, love can be difficult to sustain with some extravagances. Extravagances come in many varieties. They may cost a lot of money or none, but they are always a gift that was not required, that didn't come from any formula, that was simply an overflowing of love.

Considering how much the Bible talks about love -- God is love. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and being. Love your neighbor as yourself -- it is strange how frequently faith gets reduced to formula. Be good and get rewarded. If you like the church's programs, help pay for them. Design church to serve the loyal members. Never mind the people Jesus says we are to focus on and minister to.

In marriages, when the honeymoon is over and love gets dulled by routines and formulaic patterns with little in the way of extravagances, love can begin to die. I wonder if some of the cynicism in our culture about marriage doesn't emerge from the witness of too many dead, formulaic marriages. And so I also wonder if the growing cynicism in our culture toward "organized religion" doesn't emerge from the witness of too many congregations that seem more about formula and tradition than the extravagances of love.  I'm speaking generically, of course.

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Sermon audio - Who Do You Say That We Are?

Sermon and worship service audios available on Falls Church Presbyterian website.

Sermon - Who Do You Say That We Are?

Mark 8:27-38

Who Do You Say That We Are?

James Sledge                                                                           September 16, 2012

Years ago I read an article on studying the Bible.  Noting the obvious fact that people can read the Bible and get nothing from it, the writer said, “The Bible is a book for earnest seekers.”  I totally agree.  Casual readers of the Bible often get little from it other than some trivial information that might be useful when a biblical category comes up on Jeopardy.  But for the Bible to speak to us, to become God’s word to us, we must inquire of it.  We must ask it deep and probing questions.

Of course people sometimes ask the Bible questions it has no real interest in answering, such as science or history questions which I think rather trivial compared to the big questions the text does want to answer.  But you don’t need to be creationists to ask the Bible questions that it cares little about.  I you’re looking for directions to heaven, that’s not really of great concern to the Bible.  And if you’re hoping the Bible will help you discover a bit of a spiritual boost, you may also be disappointed.

The Bible has plenty of rules and teachings and proverbs, and it contains a fair amount of history. But all of this is in service to bigger interests.  The Bible’s real concerns are with fundamental issues about God and about us.  My all-time favorite quote from John Calvin, a line members of this church may know by heart by the time my tenure here ends, speaks directly to this.  In the opening of Calvin’s  Institutes of the Christian Religion he writes, “Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.”[1] 

Who is God, and what is God like?  What does it mean to be human, and what does that have to do with God?  These are the fundamental questions Scripture deals with, and the answers are embedded in the stories of other people’s encounter with God, and in the stories of communities that seek to live in relation to God.  And our gospel reading deals with just such fundamental issues.

Jesus asks his followers a very basic question.  “Who do people say that I am?”  After they respond, Jesus turns the question directly to them.  “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter answers for the group, “You are the Messiah.”  The Greek word for messiah is Christos.  Christ is not a name as some folks presume; it’s a title.  Peter says Jesus is the anointed one, the one people have been waiting for, a new king for the throne of David, the hope for a new day. 

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Who am I?  Who are you?  And what information is it that answers such questions?  Am I who I say I am or think I am?  Or does my identity come from somewhere else?  How about you?  Where does your identity come from?  What makes you who you really are?  Or to borrow from John Calvin, how much do you know about yourself?

Reaching for Stones

Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, before Abraham was, I am." So they picked up stones to throw at him, but Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple.   John 8:58-59

It's easy for us to miss the huge offense Jesus offers to his opponents.  You can't see it in English, though sometimes translations try to indicate it with "before Abraham was, I AM."  John's gospel regularly has Jesus employ an unusual grammatical way of saying "I am."  It recalls God's words to Moses at the burning bush and, as such, functions as a kind of divine name in John.  You can't see this in English, but you can see it in the reaction of people picking up stones at Jesus' blasphemy.

Today's gospel got me wondering about the things that we get riled up about, that cause us to swell with righteous indignation and grab for a stone, if only a metaphorical one.  No doubt there are occasions that warrant righteous indignation.  But much more frequently, such anger reveals our own idols.  Idols, by the way, need not seem religious.  Anything that has a sufficient amount of my devotion and passion can become an idol, an object of devotion that rightfully belongs only to God.  Nation, family, wealth, or political systems and ideas come to mind.

Of course religious things make for wonderful idols.  Churches, pastors, worship styles, a theology or ideology, even the Bible itself can be and have been idolized.  And such idols are perhaps more problematic for church folks like myself and those I serve as a pastor.  All these religious idols have the advantage of being part of our religious practices.  They are not bad things per se, but rather lesser goods mistaken for the ultimate good.

It is not so unusual for pastors to encounter people in congregations who reach for metaphorical stones over the seemingly insignificant. These can be as varied as moving a sanctuary decoration, tinkering with the order of worship, suggesting a different Bible translation, or suggesting changing the color of carpet in the sanctuary.  There's no knowing exactly what motivates such over-reactions, but surely some of them are about mistaking things associated with God for God.  Sometimes we decide that God is bound up in the things we use in our practice of the faith.  But if today's story in John is any guide, at such moments we may well miss God in our midst.

Jesus' opponents were very religious and very devout.  They were the sort of people every pastor wishes she had in greater numbers at her church.  Yet somehow they could not see God's presence in their very midst.  Indeed they grabbed for stones to hurl at that presence. 

I'm an idea guy, so I suspect the idols that have me reaching for stones are deeply held understandings and ways of thinking about God.  I'm not likely to get upset with you over carpet colors, but trample on my deeply held truths and I may struggle to keep my hands in my pockets.

What can prompt you to reach for stones?  Any chance it's an idol that keeps you from encountering the living God?

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Discipleship, Politics, "Isms," and Idols

A line in this morning's psalm reads,  “Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now rise up,” says the LORD."  It's hard to read the Bible without getting the sense that God cares especially for the poor.  Conversely, Jesus seems to think that wealth is something of a curse. Not that many of us take him seriously on that.

Now this is not a political post (though I suppose it has political implications).  People can be very concerned about the poor and end up in very different political places. But I'm not sure the Bible's aim is simply to create concern for the poor.  Rather it seeks to form us into people whose lives are radically reoriented. Jesus calls his followers to lives of total devotion to God and concern for others that, at the very least, equals concern for self.  And whether we are Democrat or Republican, conservative or liberal, most of us find this very nearly impossible.

It is very difficult for any political movement to embody the reoriented life Jesus asks of us because all such movements, all "isms" from feminism to liberalism to fundamentalism to patriotism, suffer from the basic human problem of being self-centered rather than God and other-centered.  Even movements begun from entirely altruistic motives eventually succumb to this tendency, to our sinful nature.

Churches and faiths on both the left, right, and everywhere in between routinely forget this and too easily associate God and faithfulness with their particular stances and positions, politics and "isms."  And far too often, churches and faith communities of all persuasions fail to encourage an openness to fundamental transformation that transcends politics and "isms."  As such, our devotion is too often to our causes, politics, and "isms" rather than to God and neighbor.  Fervent, well-intended causes make the most impressive idols, and very often we are remarkably blind to our own idols, although we can be quite astute at pointing out the idolatry of others. I take it Jesus is addressing just such a concern when he speaks of seeing specks in our neighbors' eyes while missing the log in our own.

I don't mean by this that all stances, causes, politics, and "isms" are equally loathsome.  Loathsome indeed would be the person who argued that the causes of civil rights and segregation were equally misaligned with God's coming Kingdom.  I have no doubt that Jesus was on the side of civil rights marchers and not segregationists.  But Jesus asks something bigger of us that simply to back the right causes.  He wants us to be completely made over, to discover our true human nature in living as he lived.  But that seems so hard.

I sometimes wonder if the Church hasn't done a great deal to make the call of Jesus seem too hard, even impossible.  For a variety of reasons, church leaders have been afraid to ask much of those in the pews.  We might lose members if we spoke as Jesus did. Easier to stake out a few positions or embrace a certain cause and tell people that faith means agreeing with us or supporting our cause.

I certainly get nervous at the thought of calling people to radical discipleship.  What if I offend the people who pay my salary?  A self-centered fear if there ever was one.  Maybe what I need to do first is listen more carefully for Jesus calling me.

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Sermon audio - Shaped for Love

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Sermon - Shaped for Love

James 1:17-27

Shaped for Love

September 2, 2012                                                                                           James Sledge

Five year old Tommy walks in to the kitchen from the family room carrying an empty bowl.  “Mom,” he says, “can I have some more ice cream?” “No,” she says.  “You’ve already had two bowls and it’s nearly bedtime.”  “But please,” he whines. “I’m still hungry.”  But she stands her ground and Tommy stomps off back to the family room and the television.

Before long his mother comes into the room and says, “Okay big fella, it’s time to get ready for bed.”  Tommy of course objects.  “Do I have to?  I’m not tired.”  His mother is gentle but firm.  “Yes, you do have to.  It’s a school night, and you can stop the video and finish watching it tomorrow.” 

Tommy continues to whine and complain as he is led off to brush his teeth and put on pajamas.  “When I grow up I’m gonna stay up as late as I want, and I’m gonna eat all the ice cream I want.  Nobody’s gonna tell me what to do.”  His mother just smiles and says, “Well when you grow up you can do that.”

I suspect that at some point in their lives, all children are convinced that their parent’s chief purpose in life is to keep them from doing the things they enjoy.  Parents burden their lives with arbitrary rules which serve little purpose beyond making them miserable.  And they long for the day when they will make their own rules.

Of course most children grow up and decide not to stay up all night eating nothing but ice cream.  And when they have children of their own, they burden those children with bedtimes, deserts contingent on eating their vegetables, and so on.  As many people have noted, your parents seem to get a lot smarter as you get older.

There must be something in our human nature that makes us chafe when rules are imposed on us.  We seem to assume that they are unnecessary constraints on us.  And while most of us grow up and gain a certain appreciation of our parents’ rules, this view of rules as burdens remains with us.  Drivers don’t like speed limits.  Corporations fuss about environmental laws, and people howl and threaten to sue anytime anyone infringes on their rights or tries to tell them what to do.

Most of us have learned to appreciate many of our parents’ rules, and cognitively we understand the need for speed limits, for not allowing everyone just to do whatever he or she pleases.  But still we chafe at the idea that another can restrict our freedom in any way.  And this aversion to rules extends to those that come from God.  People think of religious rules as things that restrict our freedoms, that keep us from doing things that would be fun, that interfere with us enjoying our lives.  That’s probably why Mark Twain once said, “Go to heaven for the climate and hell for the company.”

What's It All About?

We live in a time when there are lot of questions about what church is going to look like in the future.  Terms like post-modern and emergent are now a regular part of church jargon. And while there is not much consensus on where things are headed, there is more general agreement that church models and forms and practices are in flux, that this is a time of great transition.

But I suspect that uncertainties and conflicts about methods and styles and forms also reflect uncertainties with regard to what it means to be Christian.  Some of the things I took for granted as a child in church are no longer givens.  My Southern Baptist and Methodist playmates might have looked and sounded a bit different from this Presbyterian, but deep down we all knew the Christianity was primarily about saving your soul, about getting your ticket punched for heaven.  There were also sides of morality and blessings from God on the menu, but the main course was heaven when you died.

This ticket to heaven revolved around Jesus, of course.  It seems that God would have had to punish us, but thanks to a magic formula with Jesus as central ingredient, we could get a pass, getting into heaven even though we didn't merit it.  Pity those poor folk who thought they could get in by being good.  Turns out that didn't work. You have to know the Jesus password.  Those folks who imagined they could make it without Jesus were only fooling themselves.  You can't be good enough for God. 

To the degree I ever thought of such things as a child, I assumed that those who rejected Jesus mistakenly thought they were good enough on their own and didn't realize what a terrible fix they were in because of this mistake. (I do recall once arguing with a Baptist friend that since it was only a mistake and not intentional evil on their part, surely God wouldn't send Jews to hell.)  I don't think it ever occurred to me that Jewish people knew all about God's grace long before Jesus showed up, as can be seen in today's reading, Psalm 143.

Hear my prayer, O LORD;
    give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
    answer me in your righteousness. Do not enter into judgment with your servant,
    for no one living is righteous before you.

There it is right there. "I'm not right before you, God.  Please don't judge me because like everyone else, I fall short."  And the psalmist doesn't say anything about going to heaven.  Judgment and salvation for him have nothing to do with heaven. They are much more present and concrete.

It comes as a surprise to many Christians to learn that Jesus didn't speak very much about heaven either, and when he did he wasn't talking about us going there.  On the other hand, Jesus did talk a lot about the Kingdom, about a coming reign of God that his followers were to get ready for.  And this kingdom was not off-world.  It was breaking out here and there, within Jesus' followers, and it would eventually involve all of creation which itself "waits with eager longing" for that day, according to the Apostle Paul.

But if it doesn't require Jesus to know about God's grace, and if Jesus didn't come to get us to heaven (something Brian McLaren calls a "gospel of evacuation"), what's it all about?  I think answering this question is the vital task of the church in our day. 

Certainly the promise of eternal life is key component of Christianity, but popular notions of immortal souls are extra-biblical ideas imported from Greek philosophy, entirely foreign to Jesus and Paul and other early Christians.  And eternal life is not the end to which Christian faith aspires.  That end is the kingdom, the new heaven and new earth, the day when God's will is done on earth as it is in heaven, when earth becomes heaven-like.

In the notions of Christianity I picked up as a child, God doesn't really come off all that well.  God is forever sending folks to hell and some day will get so fed up that the whole world gets fried.  But it turns out that much of this view is not inherently biblical, and we Protestant Christians have long made a big deal about being biblical.  The biblical God comes off much better than the popular one I met as a child, a God you only wanted to be around if Jesus was there to keep God from getting you.  The biblical God has no plans to destroy the world, rapture anyone, or leave anyone behind.  The biblical God desperately wants to move the world toward a better future and is relentless in trying to draw us into that work, to enlist us as people who can show the world what they new day looks like.

It seems to me that a hopeful, loving, faith-driven vision of the future is something the world desperately needs right now.  It doesn't need a gospel of evacuation.  It needs a gospel of hope for a redeemed future.  It needs more people who have learned to live by the ways of heaven, not because they're getting ready to go there, but because they're getting the world ready for it to come here.  The world needs a Christianity that proclaims God's love for the world, a love that will not simply let the world do itself in, but will, in ways that confound and surprise us, bring life out of death and hope and possibility in the midst of cynicism and despair.

Whew! I'm getting wound up.  Think I'll stop now.

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When Things Are Bad

My own little difficulties drew me into today's reading from Job, but the situation along the Gulf Coast gave it a much sharper focus.  If posts on Facebook and Twitter are any guide, prayers for people along the Gulf are legion, yet Hurricane Isaac now seems to have parked over the New Orleans area, threatening to pummel the region with rain and floods for days.  Is that anyway to respond to our prayers, God?

Lots of people seem to know Job only from his reputation for patience, and so they might not recognize today's reading as words addressed to God from Job's lips.  "I loathe my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone, for my days are a breath. What are human beings, that you make so much of them, that you set your mind on them, visit them every morning, test them every moment? Will you not look away from me for a while, let me alone until I swallow my spittle? If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity? Why have you made me your target? Why have I become a burden to you? Why do you not pardon my transgression and take away my iniquity? For now I shall lie in the earth; you will seek me, but I shall not be." So much for patience.

Far too many people of faith seem unaware of these words or the fact that they are a faithful response to God.  The book of Job was written to address the Pat Robertsons of that day who argued that blessings came to good and faithful folks while curses came to those who did not walk in God's ways.  The book of Job is the strongest repudiation of neat and easy faith with all the answers.  There is no good reason for Job's horrible suffering, and even when God responds, there is no truly satisfactory answer.

I feel confident that those who claim to know why Hurricane Isaac is battering New Orleans on the very anniversary of Katrina know very little of genuine, biblical faith.  They are hucksters advertising an easy but ultimately false and worthless substitute.  Real faith must live with unanswerable questions and uncertainties.  Real faith will at times be confused, upset, or angry with God, yet still somehow rest in God.

I don't have much use for faith platitudes, but I do find that faith often deepens more in those moments of confusion, upset, doubt, and anger towards God.  "Be good and get rewarded;" that's not faith.  That's a formula or a contract.

I'm not real happy with God right now, and not just about New Orleans.  But Syria and homelessness are at least things we humans should be able to do something about.  And so I'll keep praying for those in the Gulf, and for Syria and the homeless.  I'll shake my head and maybe my fists in God's direction now and then. But I've experienced God's touch enough that I will still know that God is God, and even though I often cannot see it, God is indeed bending the flow of history toward the good. 

I do not think this is provable to anyone who has never felt God's touch, and I'll leave such proofs to the hucksters who peddle other trite items that pass for faith.  And despite things I cannot understand, despite very real suffering that is horrible and unjustified and tragic, despite ample evidence to the contrary, I will still somehow trust that creation is ultimately and finally in the good hands of a loving God.

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