Sermon video: Bad Shepherds and Mr. Rogers

Sorry about the voice; had a bit of a cold.
Audios of sermons and worship can be found at FCPC website.

Sermon: Bad Shepherds and Mr. Rogers

1 Kings 21:1-10, 15-21a

Bad Shepherds and Mr. Rogers

James Sledge                                                                                       June 16, 2013

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, says Psalm 23. God says to King David, “It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel.” Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Not surprisingly in a culture where sheep herding was common, the metaphor of shepherd was applied to God, to kings, and to Jesus as Messiah, an image drawn from shepherds protecting their flocks from predators, and guiding them to good pasture and water to drink.

Few of us have much familiarity with shepherding, but we still use the metaphor, at least in the church. In the service where John Ohmer was officially installed as rector at The Falls Church Episcopal, the bishop carried a shepherd’s crook , a symbol that he is called to shepherd the diocese.

In the Old Testament, the kings that follow after King David are also supposed the shepherd Israel, to watch over God’s flock. Some of them do, but a lot of them don’t. Prophets lament the lost sheep of Israel burdened by their bad shepherds. The prophet Ezekiel says, “Ah you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep. You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them.”

In much the same way that Jesus speaks centuries later, the prophets judge kings by how they care for the sheep, especially the most vulnerable. And God’s judgment is especially on these “false shepherds” who enrich themselves at the expense of the flock.

King Ahab and Queen Jezebel certainly fall into the category of false shepherds. Their story opens with this ominous note. Ahab, son of Omri did evil in the sight of the Lord more than all who were before him. And in our reading this morning, Ahab and Jezebel engage in a textbook case of bad shepherding, murdering Naboth in order to get what they want.

When I Am Weak

The Apostle Paul is an intriguing character. His writings are the basis of much of Protestant Christianity's particular emphases, but we know him primarily from his occasional letters. (The book of Acts also contains a great deal of material about Paul, although it is sometimes difficult to reconcile with what Paul himself says.) Reading Paul's letters if often a bit like listening in on one half of a phone conversation. It is not always clear what's on the other side of the discussion.

For the most part, Paul's letters address issues and concerns in congregations he has founded. Often, Paul is quite exasperated with the situation and is attempting to correct it. That seems to be the case in the readings from the last couple of days. For some reason, Paul feels compelled to argue for his authority, and it is in that effort that he gives one of his famous lines, a response from God to his prayers to remove a "thorn" that was given him. "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

Paul says this thorn keeps him from being too elated because of the spectacular revelations he has received. It forces him to rely on God's grace alone, giving him a remarkable outlook on things. "So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong."

 I don't know many people who boast in their weaknesses. As I mentioned on Monday, many of us aspire to self-sufficiency and abhor the notion of being dependent on anything. But Paul says that it is when he is weak that he discovers strength.

I think that one of the most difficult things for me is to be confident is something other than my own strengths and abilities. If I'm facing something difficult and I do not feel competent or well-equipped to handle it, I may despair of not having what it takes to do the job. But Paul seems to take the exact opposite view.

Over the years, people have often spoken of Presbyterians as the "frozen chosen," referring both to our belief that God reaches out to us in a freely offered gift, and also to our staid nature. We often work so hard to get everything neatly and well ordered that the whole thing can feel a bit dry. And I wonder if we don't have a tendency to trust too much in our own strength of intellect, leaving scant room for the sort of strength and power Paul speaks of.

One of the growing edges I'm trying to work on is viewing my own weaknesses differently. Rather than as failings or deficiencies that make me feel anxious and not up to the task, I'm trying to envision them as openings for the power that comes only from God. How wonderful it would be to proclaim with Paul, "Whenever I am weak, then I am strong."

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Creating God

It happens sometimes when I'm looking at the scripture passages for an upcoming Sunday sermon, and it happened when I read today's lectionary passages. None of them really spoke to me or moved me. If anything, some of them bothered me a bit.

I think most all folks tend to be drawn to scripture that resonates with where they already are. I know I do. And so I like passages that talk about God's love or about God caring for the downtrodden, but I'm less enamored with passages that speak of judgment or demand I do things I'd rather not. Often I'm better at seeing how others selectively pick and choose what scriptures they want to follow than I am at recognizing the behavior in myself. But then I read the lectionary and can't find a single passage I want to reflect on, and I know I'm doing the same thing.

What happens when the God we meet in scripture is not the God we want to meet? There are certainly passages that don't mean what they at first seem to, and there are passages that need to be considered in the larger context of other scripture. But still, there are many times when I and others simply prefer to create God in our own image. How else to explain the many varied and different Gods one meets in the teachings of various denominations and strains of Christianity?

One thing is certain, when I meet a scriptural picture of God that does not resonate with me or even disturbs me, that is surely something I need to spend some time with, letting it test and refine the God I have built for myself.

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Grace Colored Glasses

In today's Old Testament reading, Israel is about to enter the land of promise, but Moses is not going to enter it with them. And so he reminds them of the covenant God has made with them, insisting that it is not too difficult a task for them. "If you obey the commandments of the LORD your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the LORD your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess."

It is simple. Do as God has commanded and all will go well. Play by the rules, and you will prosper. But history proves that keeping God's commandments is too difficult, and Israel's history is filled with stories of their failures. Fortunately, God seems unwilling to give up on Israel. True, there are consequences for their failing to live as God's people, but God's grace simply will not leave them to their own devices.

That's encouraging news for me, because I know all about the sort of self-destructive behavior Israel engages in. Most all of us do things we know we shouldn't do and fail to do things we know that we should. I often regret such choices shortly after, but that doesn't always stop me from making the same choices again.

I think my experience may explain why stories of Jesus seeking the lost are so popular. At times, we all can identify with a wayward, prodigal son, a lost sheep, or a fellow like Zacchaeus from today's gospel, whose greed has caused him to hurt others and become despised in his own community.

But Jesus says, "He too is a son of Abraham." Zacchaeus may have betrayed his own people, may have walled himself off by his own, self-destructive behavior. But Jesus simply will not leave him there. He draws Zacchaeus back in, even when it scandalizes the good, religious folk.

It's nice to know that even when I act in ways contrary to what God wants, when I go through the day acting as though God isn't even there, when I put my own petty needs above everyone else's, Jesus refuses to see me as my actions define me. Instead he insists, "You too are a beloved child of God."

That calls for a big "Thanks be to God!"

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Becoming Dependent... in a Good Way

I'm back in the office after taking off most of last week. I'm pretty exhausted, but in a good way. My wife and I finally found a home to purchase after many months of searching, and I spent last week ripping out layers of old kitchen floor, knocking down a wall, refinishing hardwood flooring, and hanging sheet rock. I still have a lot of work to do, but I made a lot of progress.

I come from that "If you want it done right you'd better do it yourself" school of thought, and so I am inclined to do anything I know how to do - or think I can learn to do - on my own. (Only occasionally do I get myself in trouble by attempting something I shouldn't have.) So I am feeling pretty good about myself as a handyman after last week, but there is a downside to my do-it-yourself attitude.

Being self-sufficient is something many people aspire to, although no one is ever totally so. But for me, the desire to be self-sufficient can make me loathe to ask for help. If I need help, then I'm not doing it myself. In fact, I'm dependent on another, and dependent is the opposite of self-sufficient.

For God alone my soul waits in silence;
    from him comes my salvation.  
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
    my fortress; I shall never be shaken.   Psalm 62:1-2

At the core of Christian faith is a radical dependence on God, on God's love and grace in Jesus. This is perhaps especially true for Protestants like myself who speak of "justification by grace through faith," the notion that restored relationship with God is a gift freely offered, not something we can acquire by our efforts. There are times when this sounds absolutely wonderful, this promise of God's love extended to us regardless. But it can negate notions of personal merit, accomplishment, etc.

Notions of self-sufficiency sometime lead me astray in church work when I think that "success" is about getting everything just right: the right programs, the right mission activities, the right volunteers, and so on. But when I think this way I view church through a self-sufficiency lens, not leaving much room for God to operate, for the Spirit to move, for more than I can imagine to occur.

And so I need to remind myself to wait for God alone. I need to remember that Jesus promises to be with all who seek to follow him, and we don't need to do it all ourselves. He calls me away from the impossible demand of being self-sufficient saying, "Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

That sounds pretty inviting.

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Sermon video - Extravagant Generosity: Freed from Consumeritis

June 2 sermon

Audios of sermons and worship on Falls Church Presbyterian website.

Sermon video: Risk-Taking Mission and Service: Use Your Talents Foolishly

Sermon from May 26

Audios of sermons and worship found on church website.

Sermon - Extravagant Generosity: Freed from Consumeritis

Luke 19:1-10

Extravagant Generosity: Freed from Consumeritis

James Sledge                                                                                       June 2, 2013

I was in Target the other day, picking up a few small items, and for some reason I walked detoured through the TV section. I didn’t even slow down as I walked by the 26, 32, and 40 inch screens, but I stopped at the 55 and 70 inch TVs. Now that would be nice. Think of the Super Bowl party you could have with a 70 inch television.

That big screen called to me, but I walked on to the checkout with my little basket of items. I wanted it though, and I wished I had it. I even felt a bit diminished by not having it, which is not surprising since I suffer from a disease endemic to our culture. I don’t have a bad case, but I still have consumeritis. Its chief symptom is always needing more in order to be happy: a new TV, new car, renovated kitchen, new smart phone, and on and on and on.

One of the problems with consumeritis is that getting more doesn’t actually help. You still need more. That’s true whether you’re rich or poor. Regardless of income, people say that if they just had 20% more, they’d be happy.[1] Just think, wherever you are, whatever your salary, whatever you have, someone is sure she’d be happy if only she made what you make and had what you have. But you know better.

Consumeritis is a great spiritual malady of our age and the cause of much of our anxiety. It’s true that a bit of dissatisfaction can motivate and drive us, but at some point, this endless striving for more becomes pathological, an addiction that can never be sated. It keeps people in jobs they can’t stand, and it runs them ragged. It consumes people, damaging relationships, ruining health, and more. As someone has said, “We buy things we don't even need with money we don't even have to impress people we don't even know”[2]

Endemic cosumeritis is a modern problem, but the disease itself has been around forever. No doubt Zacchaeus suffered from it. After all, he had pursued riches in a manner that left him hated and disowned by fellow Israelites. Chief tax collectors purchased their position from the Romans, becoming a part of Rome’s hated occupation. And beyond collaborating with the Romans, they got rich by collecting more taxes than were actually owed and keeping the surplus. In other words, Zacchaeus was a traitor and a thief.

I wonder what drove Zacchaeus to pursue wealth at such costs. What about him was willing to become a hated pariah to get wealth? Surely there was some deep, unfilled need that drove him. But I suspect it had not worked out as he hoped. How else to explain his desire to see Jesus, even if he made a fool of himself in the process?

And when he meets Jesus, everything changes. He’s ready to give away half he owns and repay quadruple anyone he defrauded. Whatever it was that drove him to pursue wealth no matter the cost, it is gone, and Jesus says that “salvation” has come to his house. Zacchaeus has been healed, made whole, saved, made new.

Not So Bold

Just before his death, Moses gives the same command to both the people of Israel and to Joshua, who will now lead them. "Be strong and bold." This strength and boldness does not come from Israel being particularly powerful or impressive, or even from Joshua being a brilliant leader. Israel and Joshua can be bold and strong because God goes with them.

The Apostle Paul speaks in the same manner in today's passage from 2 Corinthians. He speaks of a competence that comes, not from himself, but from God. He has a confidence he has received through Christ. And so, he writes, "Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness."

I've done a few risky things in my life, but I'm not sure that I much inclined to be bold. I tend to have lots of doubts, and when I analyze the complexities of something I think needs to be done, I can feel overwhelmed. Surely I don't have what it takes to tackle it.

Very often I lack the boldness to take on big problems because they seem too big for my abilities and competencies. I don't know that there is anything all that peculiar about me on this. Lots of people, lots of organizations, lots of church congregations, are constrained by whatever estimates they make of their talents, abilities, resources, and competencies. And while this might seem to be a fairly prudent way to operate, followers of Jesus are supposed to have resources much greater than those we possess naturally. We are supposed to be gifted with and empowered by the Spirit.

If everything I attempt is something I deem within my natural abilities, what room do I leave for the Spirit? And how am I to bear witness to the power of Christ in my life if I do nothing more than I could already do all by myself?

Your thoughts?

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Older Siblings and a Prodigal God

Today's gospel is the famous "Parable of the Prodigal Son." It's one of those bits of scripture that many people who were raised in church can recall as soon as they hear the word "prodigal." That is certainly the case for me, but I confess that while I've long known this parable by its designation "prodigal," for many years I had no idea what the word "prodigal" meant.

The word is nowhere to be found in the parable itself. It is a label affixed centuries after the story was first written down. For that matter, the word "prodigal" occurs nowhere in the entire New Testament translation sitting on my desk.

Just in case you're a bit like me and never thought very much about the meaning of this rarely used word, one definition of "prodigal" reads "wastefully extravagant." Easy enough to see how such a word got attached to the younger brother who blew through all that money he had demanded from his father. But I wonder if the label "prodigal" might not just as easily be affixed to the father in the parable. The older brother certainly seems to think so.

This parable is a favorite bit of scripture for many Christians, for obvious reasons. Of course this generally requires us to identify with the younger brother. Some of us may have a history not so unlike this fellow, but the fact is that church congregations are heavily populated by older brother and sister types. And like the parable's older brother, we sometimes chafe at the prodigal nature of God. We imagine that God should pay more attention to us, those who have kept our noses clean, supported the church budget, and been good little boys and girls.

Jesus tells this parable to older sibling types, those who've worked hard at being good church folk and resent Jesus' prodigal sharing the wealth with those who've not made near the effort they have. And I think it is helpful for those of us who've been reliable church sorts for many years to hear Jesus address us in the same manner with this parable. If you hear Jesus speaking this parable to you as and older sibling, what sort of response does he seem to ask of you?

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About "Those People"

Today's gospel reading is familiar to many church folk, the parable of the lost sheep where the shepherd leaves 99 sheep alone in the wilderness to search for the one who is lost. There is great rejoicing and celebration with the single lost sheep is found, something Jesus says mirrors events in heaven over a single sinner who repents. In fact, Jesus says, heaven gets much more excited about the one sinner who comes into the fold than the 99 who never left it.

Rarely have I heard church people take issue with this bit of Scripture. It is a favorite passage for many. Who doesn't like the idea that when we go astray, Jesus drops everything and comes looking for us? But when it comes to actual practice, I've heard a lot of people take issue with the sort of behavior this parable recommends.

Jesus tells the parable because people were upset with him for spending so much time with "sinners." Many evangelically minded pastors have found themselves in a similar position with their own congregations. When a pastor spends too much time with unchurched folk, especially if those folk look a little unsavory, complaints from the congregation are likely to follow. (Jesus and his opponents don't quibble over the use of the term "sinner." They all seem comfortable with the idea that some - including Jesus' opponents - are trying much harder than these "sinners" to be right with God.)

I've never been a very good evangelist, so I've not gotten in any real trouble for spending too much time reaching out or ministering to non-members who are unsavory to boot. But on more than one occasion I've heard people declare, "We need to be more worried about our own members and not those people." ("Those people" covers a wide swath. It could be a missing demographic group the church hopes to connect with, the people being reached out to with an on-site mission activity, a group that a differently-styled worship service hopes to attract, etc.)

In his devotion for today, Richard Rohr writes on the meaning of the communion of saints. "Living in the communion of saints means that we can take ourselves very seriously (we are part of a Great Whole) and not take ourselves too seriously at all (we are just a part of the Great Whole!) at the very same time." I wonder if we in church congregations don't need to do a better job of embracing both sides of this. (I'll leave it to each individual to consider which side of this she or he needs better to embrace.) 

I think that being a follower of Jesus requires a sense of what the Great Whole is, and it also requires some realization of what part I am called to play in that Great Whole. But one thing is certain, the Great Whole is not all about me or my congregation. And God seems to get downright giddy over connecting with those outside those little communities we sometimes make the centers of our religious universe.

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