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, August 9, 2017
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Sermon: Seeing the Face of God
Genesis 32:22-31
Seeing the Face of God
James Sledge August
6, 2017
What
a strange story marking the end of Jacob’s exile from his homeland. When he
first left Canaan, fleeing the wrath of his brother Esau, he slept alone in the
wilderness, fearing for his life, dreamed of a stairway to heaven, and there
encountered God. To his surprise, God promised to be with him and bless him and
bring him back home once more. Now, as he returns, Jacob encounters God once
more.
Jacob
is almost home. But the night before he arrives, he finds himself alone once
more in the wilderness, yet again fearing for his life, fearing his brother
Esau. He returns a rich man, with vast herds and flocks, and many servants. He
also has two wives and twelve children. God has indeed been with him. God has also
told him it is time to come home. But there is still the issue of Esau. Is he
still angry? Does he still seek Jacob’s life?
Jacob
sends messengers to tell Esau that he and his flocks and servants and family
are coming, hoping to find favor with Esau. The messengers return with a report
that Esau and 400 men are coming to meet them. Jacob is, understandably,
terrified.
Jacob
remembers God’s promises and the command to return home. He prays for God to
protect his family. He also sends waves of offerings to Esau, hoping to appease
him. Servants take flocks and herds toward Esau at regular intervals. Finally,
Jacob sends his family and all that remains with him on ahead, leaving Jacob
alone.
Jacob
is alone and afraid, just like all those decades ago at Bethel. But this time
there is no dream of a ramp to heaven. This night a man wrestled with him until
daybreak. People sometimes speak of an angel wrestling Jacob, but as
the story opens, it simply says “a man.” It soon becomes obvious, however, that
this is no ordinary man.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
Sermon: Dysfunctional Families and a Loving God
Genesis 29:15-30
Dysfunctional Families and a Loving God
James Sledge July
30, 2017
After
stealing his brother’s birthright, Jacob must flee to escape Esau’s plan to
kill him. He seeks refuge in the far away land of Haran, with the family of his
mother. When Jacob arrives in Haran, he encounters shepherds at a well and asks
them if they know Laban, the uncle he’s
never met. They do, and they inform Jacob that the young woman coming to water
a flock of sheep is Laban’s daughter, Rachel. Jacob is overcome with emotion.
He weeps and embraces Rachel, who runs to tell her father of Jacob’s arrival. There
is a warm, family reunion, and Laban invites Jacob to stay with him.
During
the midst of this family reunion, the story offers an odd note. It says, Jacob
told Laban all these things, with no explanation as to what “these things”
are. Does he tell of stealing Esau’s birthright and fleeing to Haran,? Does he tell
of his dream at Bethel and God’s promise to be with him? The story doesn’t say.
It leaves us to guess or assume.
But
our story tellers surely chuckle as Jacob the trickster is himself tricked.
Laban invokes the tradition of the older
sister taking priority over the younger, a reversal of what Jacob did to his
older sibling. Perhaps when Jacob told Laban all these things, Laban
took offense at how traditional lines of inheritance had been tossed aside in
the house of Isaac.
Regardless,
the dysfunction we saw in Isaac’s house seems only to get worse as Jacob joins
his uncle’s family. We see a bit of this in our reading today. Jacob now has
two wives, one that he loves and one that he doesn’t. Laban has used his own
daughters as pawns and bargaining chips to make Jacob serve him. If Laban knows
about the dream at Bethel, knows that God is with Jacob, perhaps he thinks he
will benefit from Jacob’s presence. Now Jacob is bound to Laban for another
seven years. And we’re just getting warmed up.
As
the story continues, a bitter rivalry develops between Rachel and Leah. They
vie for Jacob’s attention and to be mothers of his children. God comes to the
aid of both women in times when they are ignored or oppressed. And both women
give their maids to Jacob in order to produce more children. In the end, the
unloved Leah will be mother to eight of Israel’s twelve tribes, with Rachel mother
to four.
Monday, July 24, 2017
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Sermon: The Crack Where the Light Gets In
Genesis 28:10-22
The Crack Where the Light Gets In
James Sledge July
23, 2017
Jacob
is alone and on the run. The con-job that stole Esau’s blessing has backfired.
Now his brother seeks to kill him, and he must flee for his life. He runs
toward Haran, the homeland of his mother. Presumably her family will take him
in.
Jacob
is in grave danger, but he is not the only thing at risk. God’s original
promise to Abraham and Sarah is in jeopardy as well. When God first spoke to
Abraham, saying, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the
land that I will show you,” the country God told him to leave was
Haram. But now Jacob has left the land of promise, returning to the place Abraham
and Sarah had left.
This
danger to the promise was spoken by Abraham a generation earlier. When Abraham
was old and near death, he sent one of his servants to Haran to find Isaac a
wife. But he made that servant swear a solemn oath that he would not let Isaac
accompany him, would not let Isaac journey back to Haran. And so our story
speaks a double sense of threat, of danger, the threat to Jacob’s life as well
as the threat to God’s plans.
Jacob
may be unaware of that second danger. Up to this point, the story has been
silent on Jacob’s knowledge of the promise, or of God for that matter.
And
so Jacob, alone and on the run, stops to rest for the night. He must have been terribly
frightened. Perhaps Esau is in pursuit. And if Jacob knows about God and the
promise, he likely fears that God is angry with him as well.
In
the midst of the threat of his brother and possible divine punishment, sleep
must have been difficult. But harried and worn out by his journey, he takes a
stone for a pillow, and somehow falls asleep.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Sermon: Remembering Our Stories
Genesis 25:19-34 (27:1-45)
Remembering Our Stories
James Sledge July
16, 2017
“A wandering Aramean was my father.” That famous
line is the opening of a statement the people of Israel were to say when they
offered their first fruits at the Temple. The full statement traces that wandering
Aramean’s journey to Egypt, where living as an aliens, the descendants become
great and numerous, were oppressed by the Egyptians, rescued by God, and finally,
were brought into the good and bountiful land of the promise.
The
statement functions a little like a creed such as the Apostles’ Creed. However,
it is not primarily a statement of beliefs. Rather it is a claim to a
particular and peculiar identity. This is who I am. This is my story. This is
what it means to be this strange community of Israel that is called by God and
exists only within its relationship to God.
Identity
is rooted in story. Families have stories; communities have stories; cultures
have stories. Many would argue that the partisan splintering in our nation
today has been greatly aided by the loss of a shared story, a family story. They
exist, but we’ve forgotten them, lost them, or can’t agree on them, and so, in
a very real sense, we don’t know who we are. Something similar may well be
happening in the Church.
Perhaps
this is the ultimate goal of individualism paired with consumerism, to reduce
each of us to agents of wanting and acquiring with identities built solely on
what we can accomplish and get. But we have a deeper identity, a true identity
as God’s beloved children. It is an identity rooted in stories of faith that
need to become our story. “A wandering Aramean was my father.”
People
often think of Abraham, that consummate man of faith, as this wandering,
Aramean father. He fits the bill, but so does his grandson, Jacob. If anything,
Jacob is the one in whom Israel sees itself. His stories are Israel’s stories.
Israel’s identity is deeply bound to that of Jacob, its wandering ancestor.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Sermon: Provision and Testing
Genesis 22:1-14
Provision and Testing
James Sledge July
2, 2017
I
had a relative who was missing a good bit of one finger, and there was a family
story about why. I don’t know that the story was true. I suspect not, but it goes
like this. When this person was a child, her sibling or cousin – I don’t
remember which – told her to put her hand down on a bench and he would cut off a
finger with a hatchet. She complied, and he swung the hatchet. She assumed he
wouldn’t actually go through with it; he assumed she would move her hand. Like
I said, I doubt it’s true, but it’s a good story.
That
story came to mind as I was thinking about the story we’re going to hear from
Genesis where God commands Abraham to make a burnt offering of his son, Isaac.
As with my family story, it seems like a story that could go horribly awry with
one false move.
It
is a frightening, even terrifying story. Christians have sometimes played that down
by saying it prefigures Jesus and resurrection, trying to distract our
attention from the horror of a story where God demands that Abraham put his
son’s life in danger.
After these things God tested Abraham. He said to
him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” 2He said, “Take your son,
your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him
there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” 3So
Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his
young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering,
and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him.
Why
on earth would God do such a thing? Surely this is simply some primitive story
from a time when human sacrifice actually happened. Surely it has nothing to
say to us. And yet this story was probably just a startling and frightening to
the people of Israel. Israel abhorred the human sacrifice practiced by some of
the cultures around them.
And
while the origins of this story may well be primitive, the story as it appears
in Genesis is quite sophisticated. It has a remarkable symmetry to it, a
pattern that seems intended to guide our understanding. Three times Abraham is
addressed and three times he responds with “Here I am.” Abraham is addressed by
God, then by Isaac, and once more by God in the form of an angel. But in only
one of those times does Abraham actually converse.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Sermon: Meeting God in the Story
Genesis 21:8-21
Meeting God in the Story
James Sledge June
25, 2017
Unless
you know the book of Genesis well, you are likely unaware of a small problem
with the story we just heard. When Hagar walks out into the wilderness with her
meager provisions of bread and water, she also carries her child, who by the
way, is in his mid to late teens. You hear a lot about helicopter parents, but
I’ve never seen a mother carrying her teenage boy on her shoulder.
Now
some may be thinking, “Wait a minute. The story doesn’t say a thing about how
old the boy is.” True, but an earlier story that tells of the child’s birth, as
well as his name, Ishmael, says that Abraham was 86 years old then. He’s 100
when Isaac is born and children were typically weaned at around three. You do
the math.
Of
course now that I’ve pointed out this problem, I should add that the problem
isn’t really with our story. The problem is modern people who don’t know how to
listen to Israel’s faith stories, our faith stories.
Like
some other parts of the Old Testament, Genesis is a collection of stories, many
of which existed independently before being woven together. And because the
editors who do this don’t share our interest in precise history or facts, they
make no effort to harmonize our story, one clearly about a very young child, with
another that makes him much older.
These
editors were not stupid people. They were the intellectuals of their day. But
they were not writing history or recording events. They were perfectly willing
to leave intact and honor stories as they received them, stories that people
probably already knew anyway. They wove these into a larger fabric to help
Israel wrestle with what it meant to be the people of God, especially in a time
when Israel had suffered defeat and exile.
Monday, June 19, 2017
Calling God to Account
Give ear to my words, O LORD;
give heed to my sighing.
Listen to the sound of my cry,
my King and my God,
for to you I pray.
O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice;
in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.
For you are not a God who delights in wickedness;
evil will not sojourn with you. - Psalm 5:1-4
I suppose there is some small comfort in knowing that psalmists in ancient Israel strained to find God in the events of their lives. According to some authorities, the cry of lament is the most common of all the psalms. There is nothing new about looking at the world and wondering why God does not act to set things right.
Events of recent days surely qualify. A politically motivated shooting just miles down the road from the church I serve. The horrific loss of life in a London apartment fire where the dangers were known but ignored because it was low income housing. The death of a college student detained and abused by a repressive North Korean regime that does the same to its own citizens on a daily basis. A terrorist attack against Muslims in London that may well have been "revenge" for previous terror attacks by ISIS. Yet another horrific act near the church I serve, a 16 year old Muslim assaulted and killed as she and friend walked from early morning Ramadan services, headed to IHOP for breakfast before the day of fasting began. It may not have been a hate crime, the local Muslim community is understandably on edge. I could continue endlessly. Give ear to my words, O LORD; give heed to my sighing. Listen to the sound of my cry.
I know quite a few people of faith who would be troubled, even offended by such a statement, but I feel certain the psalmist would resonate with it. How could God be a God of justice, a God who cared especially for the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and the hurting, and let things go so awry? The psalmists ask such questions regularly. Why do you sleep, O Lord? Awake, do not cast us off forever! Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression? (from Ps. 44)
Perhaps it is an act of faith to acknowledge that the world is not a God intends and that we feel helpless. Perhaps it is an even greater act of faith to beseech God, even demand that God rouse Godself and act, while we align ourselves with those who suffer in this world so bent on hate and destruction.
Yet all too often, we people of faith become agents of hate and destruction. From terrorists who distort and tarnish their own Islamic faith, killing in the name of God, to Christians motivated by fear who discard the teachings of Jesus in order to abandon the refugee, neglect the sick, and hate their neighbor, we people of faith are all too often guilty of working against God.
Forgive us, Lord. Hear our cry. Rise up, come to our help. Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love. (from Ps. 44)
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
give heed to my sighing.
Listen to the sound of my cry,
my King and my God,
for to you I pray.
O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice;
in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.
For you are not a God who delights in wickedness;
evil will not sojourn with you. - Psalm 5:1-4
I suppose there is some small comfort in knowing that psalmists in ancient Israel strained to find God in the events of their lives. According to some authorities, the cry of lament is the most common of all the psalms. There is nothing new about looking at the world and wondering why God does not act to set things right.
Events of recent days surely qualify. A politically motivated shooting just miles down the road from the church I serve. The horrific loss of life in a London apartment fire where the dangers were known but ignored because it was low income housing. The death of a college student detained and abused by a repressive North Korean regime that does the same to its own citizens on a daily basis. A terrorist attack against Muslims in London that may well have been "revenge" for previous terror attacks by ISIS. Yet another horrific act near the church I serve, a 16 year old Muslim assaulted and killed as she and friend walked from early morning Ramadan services, headed to IHOP for breakfast before the day of fasting began. It may not have been a hate crime, the local Muslim community is understandably on edge. I could continue endlessly. Give ear to my words, O LORD; give heed to my sighing. Listen to the sound of my cry.
I occasionally reread a sermon from the great John Claypool, originally preached following the death of his young daughter from leukemia. In it, he recounts a letter he received from his friend and fellow preaching great, Carlyle Marney shortly before his daughter died. Dr. Marney admitted to having no word for the suffering of the innocent, but he added, "I fall back on the idea that our God has a lot to give an account for." (from A Chorus of Witnesses, Thomas Long and Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. editors, page 120)
I know quite a few people of faith who would be troubled, even offended by such a statement, but I feel certain the psalmist would resonate with it. How could God be a God of justice, a God who cared especially for the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and the hurting, and let things go so awry? The psalmists ask such questions regularly. Why do you sleep, O Lord? Awake, do not cast us off forever! Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression? (from Ps. 44)
Perhaps it is an act of faith to acknowledge that the world is not a God intends and that we feel helpless. Perhaps it is an even greater act of faith to beseech God, even demand that God rouse Godself and act, while we align ourselves with those who suffer in this world so bent on hate and destruction.
Yet all too often, we people of faith become agents of hate and destruction. From terrorists who distort and tarnish their own Islamic faith, killing in the name of God, to Christians motivated by fear who discard the teachings of Jesus in order to abandon the refugee, neglect the sick, and hate their neighbor, we people of faith are all too often guilty of working against God.
Forgive us, Lord. Hear our cry. Rise up, come to our help. Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love. (from Ps. 44)
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
Sermon: Telling Stories
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Telling Stories
James Sledge June
11, 2017, Trinity Sunday
When
Naomi was a child growing up in Jerusalem, her parents often told her stories
about Abraham and Sarah, Moses and Joshua, Deborah, King David and Solomon. From
these stories and more, she learned that God cared for Israel. She was part of
God’s chosen people.
Their
God was better, more powerful than the gods of other nations. Jerusalem was a
light on a hill and Israel was special, exceptional. And so when the Babylonian
armies showed up, Naomi was not worried. Babylon’s gods were no match for
Yahweh.
But
Babylon’s armies had destroyed Jerusalem, had destroyed the great temple that
Solomon had built. They had marched Naomi, her family, and the leaders and well
to do of Jerusalem, off to Babylon. Every day Naomi saw the temples of the
Babylonian gods; now and then, one of the Babylonians teased her and asked what
had happened to her God.
About
that time, Naomi heard a new story, told by the religious leaders who had been
brought from Jerusalem along with the other, defeated Israelites. The story
went like this.
1In the beginning
when God created the heavens and the earth, 2the earth was a
formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God
swept over the face of the waters. Or maybe it was the Spirit of God, Naomi
wasn’t sure because ruach could
mean wind, spirit, or breath.
Sunday, June 4, 2017
Sermon: Drunk on the Spirit
Acts 2:1-21
Drunk on the Spirit
James Sledge June
4, 2017 – Pentecost
How
many of you have ever seen someone speak in tongues? If so, I’m guessing it
probably wasn’t at a Presbyterian church. I’ve only seen it once. I was
visiting a service with a group of other seminary students. It was a huge
service, with hundreds of worshipers, and it happened a good ways away from me.
To my admittedly untrained eye, it looked like an odd combination of worship
hand-waving and a seizure. I couldn’t hear it well, but what I could was
unintelligible.
When
the subject of speaking in tongues comes up in the New Testament, it usually
speaks of something similar to what I saw. There’s even a technical name for it,
glossolalia, from the Greek words for
“tongue” and “speak.”
You
could attend hundreds of Presbyterian churches and never see anyone speak in
tongues or do anything labeled Pentecostal. For me, Pentecost has little to do
with the glossolalia version of speaking in tongues. It’s about our reading
from the book of Acts, where tongues instead refers to speaking in other
languages.
This
is a version of Pentecostal that a Presbyterian can handle. The Spirit gives
the disciples abilities they hadn’t had before. I’m perfectly fine with being
Pentecostal if it means the Spirit unearths some previously unknown talent. I’m
happy with the idea of the Spirit empowering us to do things we didn’t know we
were capable of. I could be that sort of Pentecostal. Thank you, Luke, or
whoever writes the book of Acts, for giving us this tamer, more palatable
version of speaking in tongues.
But
there is something odd in the story. After telling us that people from all over
could hear the disciples speaking in their native languages and that everyone
was amazed, the story adds, But others sneered and said, “They are
filled with new wine.” Even Peter seems
to accept that reasonable people might think the disciples are drunk. His
defense is, “We may look drunk, but hey, it’s only nine in the morning.”
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
The Best of Us - The Worst of Us
When I was a little boy, my father often played the folk music that had become popular in late fifties and early sixties. I grew up listening to Peter, Paul, and Mary, Joan Baez, and a group called the Weavers. They were from an earlier era but had been "rediscovered" in the folk music resurgence.
One particular song from the Weavers made an impression on me, a Woody Guthrie ballad entitled "The Sinking of the Reuben James." It was about a US ship sunk by German U-boats during World War II. Guthrie wrote the song during the war, but the version I learned from the Weavers, sung in 1960, had an added verse at the end.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus sends "the seventy" out on a mission trip. As he instructs them for their work he says, "See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves."Clearly this is more than colorful speech, more than metaphor.
It is difficult to make sense of such a world, to understand how it is that the worst create pain and conflict, while the very best suffer and die as a result. We do not want it to be that way. Sometimes we insist it is not that way. That is why it is so tempting to "blame the victim," to imagine that people somehow deserve their suffering, their tragedy, their poverty, their loss.
Of course Jesus is the perfect example of that not being so. He is the innocent one who suffers at the hands of the guilty. He is killed for doing what is right, just as the two men in Portland were. In a very real sense, Ricky Best and Taliesin Namkai-Meche embodied Christ in a way that many who speak in Christ's name so often fail to do. That these two men gave themselves for someone who happens to be Muslim, a person many Christians feel free to hate, only makes their incarnation of God's love that much more poignant.
I am heartened to hear so many people speak of Best and Namkai-Meche as heroes, as the best of humanity and American values. And yet, all too often, we prefer the ways and methods of the worst of us. We prefer the way of power and force and intimidation. We prefer to look for a reason that the other does not deserve our help. We prefer to look the other way in the face of suffering rather than risk ourselves to help, a tendency that only grows stronger the more different the other is from us.
In this time when hate is seeing a resurgence, when many feel freed to demonize the other based on their politics or faith or color or orientation or birthplace, I wonder if the tragic events in Portland last week might not have some small measure of redemptive power. If we can indeed embrace the actions of Ricky Best and Taliesin Namkai-Meche as the best of us, as a model we are all called to emulate, then perhaps their deaths will serve some lasting purpose.
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
One particular song from the Weavers made an impression on me, a Woody Guthrie ballad entitled "The Sinking of the Reuben James." It was about a US ship sunk by German U-boats during World War II. Guthrie wrote the song during the war, but the version I learned from the Weavers, sung in 1960, had an added verse at the end.
Many years have passed since those brave men are goneI thought of those lyrics as I read about the heroes killed in Portland when they came to the aid of a Muslim woman being accosted by a white-supremacist. Two of the best in our society died at the hands of one of the worst. They died precisely because they did what was right, because they stood up to evil.
Those cold, icy waters, they're still and they're calm
Many years have passed and still I wonder why
The worst of men must fight and the best of men must die
In today's gospel reading, Jesus sends "the seventy" out on a mission trip. As he instructs them for their work he says, "See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves."Clearly this is more than colorful speech, more than metaphor.
It is difficult to make sense of such a world, to understand how it is that the worst create pain and conflict, while the very best suffer and die as a result. We do not want it to be that way. Sometimes we insist it is not that way. That is why it is so tempting to "blame the victim," to imagine that people somehow deserve their suffering, their tragedy, their poverty, their loss.
Of course Jesus is the perfect example of that not being so. He is the innocent one who suffers at the hands of the guilty. He is killed for doing what is right, just as the two men in Portland were. In a very real sense, Ricky Best and Taliesin Namkai-Meche embodied Christ in a way that many who speak in Christ's name so often fail to do. That these two men gave themselves for someone who happens to be Muslim, a person many Christians feel free to hate, only makes their incarnation of God's love that much more poignant.
I am heartened to hear so many people speak of Best and Namkai-Meche as heroes, as the best of humanity and American values. And yet, all too often, we prefer the ways and methods of the worst of us. We prefer the way of power and force and intimidation. We prefer to look for a reason that the other does not deserve our help. We prefer to look the other way in the face of suffering rather than risk ourselves to help, a tendency that only grows stronger the more different the other is from us.
In this time when hate is seeing a resurgence, when many feel freed to demonize the other based on their politics or faith or color or orientation or birthplace, I wonder if the tragic events in Portland last week might not have some small measure of redemptive power. If we can indeed embrace the actions of Ricky Best and Taliesin Namkai-Meche as the best of us, as a model we are all called to emulate, then perhaps their deaths will serve some lasting purpose.
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Sermon: Bigger Plans
Acts 1:1-14
Bigger Plans
James Sledge May
28, 2017
According
to the book of Acts, the risen Jesus hung out with the disciples for more than
a month after that first Easter, speaking with them about the kingdom of God.
Presumably he is continuing to teach his followers, just as he had done prior
to his arrest and crucifixion. No doubt it was easier for them to understand certain
things on this side of the resurrection.
Curiously,
there is nothing at all on the content of Jesus’ teachings. Nothing about what
Jesus said over those forty days besides the final instructions that we just
heard. I can only assume that means there was no new content. Jesus didn’t cover
any new ground. A refresher course, a bit of “Ok, now do you understand?” but
nothing that we’ve not already heard.
All
that makes the disciples’ question to Jesus even more startling. “Lord,
is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Really?
They’re still thinking about restoring Israel, about throwing out the Romans?
After all this they still think Jesus is a local Messiah, sent to rescue them from
their enemies? What a face palm moment.
I
don’t know if Jesus did face palms, but if he did, he must be doing them still.
His followers are still trying to turn Jesus into a Messiah who’s especially
concerned with their group. The Jesus I grew up with was a white, European guy,
and becoming a Christian was synonymous with acting like a white, European.
We’re a bit more sophisticated on this nowadays. We know that Jesus was Middle
Eastern and that faith transcends cultural divides. We know, as the Apostle
Paul said, there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female. All
are one in Christ Jesus, but we’re reasonably sure that becoming one means others
becoming more like us, preferring our style of music, worship, politics, and so
on.
Some
Christians are convinced that Jesus is especially worried about America. Some
of them voted for Donald Trump because they thought God would somehow use him
to restore the kingdom to America.
A
parochial, provincial view of what Jesus is about seems to be a perpetual
problem for the followers of Jesus. We’re forever imagining a Jesus, a God, who
is especially concerned with what concerns us, worried about what frightens us,
interested in helping us acquire whatever it is we want. Never mind how many
times Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take
up their cross…”
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Bad Shepherds - Bad Budgets
Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the LORD their God,
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith forever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
who gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets the prisoners free;
the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
the LORD loves the righteous.
The LORD watches over the strangers;
he upholds the orphan and the widow,
but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.
whose hope is in the LORD their God,
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith forever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
who gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets the prisoners free;
the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
the LORD loves the righteous.
The LORD watches over the strangers;
he upholds the orphan and the widow,
but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.
Psalm 146:5-9
Often it is difficult to trust that the psalmist's words are true. Over and over the Bible speaks of God's special care for the poor and the weak. Over and over Jesus says the same, at times going so far as to speak of wealth as a curse. Not that we're much inclined to agree with him.
Now comes the first proposed budget from Donald Trump. Many evangelical Christians voted for the president, seeing him as someone who would advance a Christian agenda. If this budget -- one that gives huge tax cuts to the rich, financed by slashing programs for the sick and the poor -- is part of that Christian agenda, then clearly the term "Christian" does not refer to the ways of God or the teachings of Jesus.
I confess that I find faith in a God who is especially concerned for those who are poor, oppressed, hungry, strangers, or bowed down difficult to hold onto right now. I wish I were better at seeing the long view of things as Jesus could do, as the prophets could do. They could somehow look at a world struggling mightily against the ways of God and still have hope, still glimpse a day when the lowly were lifted up, when those Donald Trump calls "losers" were exalted.
And so right now, when my own words fail me, perhaps the best I can do is to borrow words from one of those prophets. Ezekiel spoke against the rulers, the shepherds of Israel. "Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the 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... Thus says the LORD GOD, I am against the shepherds."
What was it that allowed prophets to see such a day? What allowed Jesus to speak of the poor lifted up and the powerful brought down when he knew that the powerful would execute him?
O God, give me faith to see and speak the hope of your new day in Jesus. It seems so very far away.
Addendum: After writing this I was driving to the regular meeting of my presbytery, our regional governing council. I had another stop on the way and so travelled a different route than I typically use. It took me by the South African embassy with the statue of Nelson Mandela out front. Nelson Mandela, who was imprisoned for years by the shepherds of his nation, who surely despaired that he would die in prison. As I drove by that statue of Mandela, showing him walking out of prison with his fist raised in the air, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of hope, a nudge from God to keep looking to the horizon and the coming of God's new day.
Addendum: After writing this I was driving to the regular meeting of my presbytery, our regional governing council. I had another stop on the way and so travelled a different route than I typically use. It took me by the South African embassy with the statue of Nelson Mandela out front. Nelson Mandela, who was imprisoned for years by the shepherds of his nation, who surely despaired that he would die in prison. As I drove by that statue of Mandela, showing him walking out of prison with his fist raised in the air, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of hope, a nudge from God to keep looking to the horizon and the coming of God's new day.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Sermon: Construction Materials
1 Peter 2:2-10
Construction Materials
James Sledge May
14, 2017
When
I meet people for the first time on a Sunday, no one ever asks me that standard
question, “So what do you do?” But when I meet people outside of church I do
get asked that. Sometimes when I say that I’m a pastor people will respond,
“What church?” When I say “Falls Church Presbyterian,” it almost always elicits
a shrug. I have to tell them that we’re on East Broad Street, but usually,
that’s still not enough. Finally when I say that we’re the stone church just
down from Applebee’s, I finally get, “O yeah, I know where that is.” Sometimes
they’ll say something about how pretty it is.
We
do have a beautiful stone building, so it’s not surprising that people have
noticed it even if they’ve never actually read our name. Buildings are an
important part of most churches. When a new church first starts, it may meet in
school or a movie theater, but that’s temporary. Even before the first worship
service at the movie theater, people are thinking about plans to acquire land
and build a building.
For
many people, a church building is what makes it feel like church. That likely
explains why I get a fair number of phone calls from people who attend other
churches but want to get married here. Sometimes they’re at one of those
churches meeting in a movie theater. More often, their church has a building,
but it’s a contemporary space that doesn’t look like a church. For their
wedding, they want a church building that looks like a church.
Church
buildings are important and so we have a committee dedicated to our building
and grounds. That committee has to worry about keeping up all our buildings and
property, making sure there are plans for when we need a new roof or a new
boiler or have to repave the parking lot. It takes a lot of work and a lot of
money to keep all our buildings in good, working order.
Not
that anyone thinks church is just the buildings. Many of you likely know the
old rhyme where you form a church building with your hands and fingers. “Here’s
the church and here’s the steeple. Open the door and see all the people.”
Without those people, a beautiful church building would be nothing but a
museum.
That’s
why along with that committee that makes sure our buildings are well cared for,
there are other committees focused on what people do in the buildings. People
discuss and plan for worship, Sunday School programs, youth groups, mission
efforts such as our Welcome Table program, fellowship events, and much more.
As
important as buildings are – providing a place for worship, Sunday School,
youth groups, Welcome Table, etc. – who we are as a church is more about what
people here do.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
On Receiving Help and Love
The following was written for the upcoming church newsletter.
Dear Friends,
As some of you may well know, I
like to think of myself as strong and self-reliant. I’m convinced that I can
handle anything that comes my way. This has often served me well. During my
flying career an emergency didn’t rattle me. It was simply a problem to be
dealt with.
However, there is a significant
downside to my self-image. I can become very frustrated when I’m unable to do
something. There are plenty of things I know I’m not good at, but when I think
I should be able to do something but cannot, or do it poorly, I often beat
myself up pretty badly. To make matters worse, asking for help can feel like
failure. And so I’m not very good at either asking or receiving help.
That likely explains why only
after things got really bad, only after my wife had encouraged me for months,
did I seek help for a deepening sense of sadness, burnout, and depression. Even
then I hoped that a few sessions with a counselor would let me figure
everything out and quickly get back to “normal.” I certainly wouldn’t need
ongoing therapy or medication, a certainty that quickly disappeared.
I have a long way to go in
getting back to “normal,” whatever that is, but I hope I’m on the right path.
I’ll spare you any more details of what already feels to me like oversharing. I
felt compelled to share, however, for a couple of reasons. The first is that
I’m hardly the only person who puts off getting treatment for mental health
issues because it feels like admitting to failure or weakness. Perceptions have
changed in recent years, but there is still a stigma attached to mental
illness. I hope my sharing is one more small chip knocked out of that stigma.
I also see a faith dimension to
this. At a very basic level, Christian faith is about being open to receiving
help. Our Presbyterian/Reformed Tradition understands relationship with God and
faith itself as a gift freely given to us by a loving God. Jesus is the
embodiment of a love that is not earned but is simply received. One does not
merit or deserve it. Jesus doesn’t love me because I’m so lovable but because
God is so loving. But I tend to measure my own worth by what I accomplish. And
so I have trouble loving myself, much less believing that God could love me,
really love me.
Our society encourages a culture
of performance, and this emphasis on achievement seems only to be growing. We
began putting pressure on our children to perform, to do well, to engage in
“enrichment” activities and sports at an earlier and earlier age. No parent
means to say, “I’ll love you if you do well, if you are successful,” but no
doubt some of our children hear just such a message.
The church also gets caught up
in our culture of performance, but that is a distortion of the gospel. At its
heart, the gospel is and always has been counter-cultural. That is why is says
silly things such as the last shall be first, the poor are blessed, and being
part of God’s new day isn’t about more success but about letting go and
becoming more like a little child. (Children had little “worth” in Jesus’ day.)
As the church, we are called to
embody Christ and his gospel. That means being a community where people
experience the love of God that is not dependent on measures of performance or
success. That means being able to accept and love ourselves, and it means being
able to accept and love those around us whether or not they “deserve” it based
on our personal measures of success or worth. Perhaps there is no greater gift
we could give our children, our neighbors, or ourselves than to rest so fully
and completely in God’s boundless love in Christ that it transformed us into
agents of Christ-like love.
Grace and peace and love,
James
James
Monday, May 8, 2017
Sunday, May 7, 2017
Sermon: Becoming Christ
1 Corinthians 12:4-31 (May Renew Group reading)
Becoming Christ
James Sledge May
7, 2017
Today’s reading
does not come from the lectionary as it does most Sundays. This week we hear
the passage chosen to facilitate discussion among our congregation’s Renew Groups that are meeting in
members’ homes to discuss who we are as a congregation. This passage is from a
letter that addresses a congregation experiencing tensions and divisions. Paul
has just chastised them for the way they do Lord’s Supper, introducing the
notion of “discerning the body” in that meal. Now he continues to use this
image of “the body” as he discusses spiritual gifts.
Most
all of us have things that we’re good at, some sort of gifts or talents. That’s
not to say that the world recognizes all talents as equals. If your talent is
throwing a football, designing software applications, or doing intricate
surgery, that may bring you a great deal of income and prestige. But if your
talent is teaching young children, carpentry, or growing a lovely garden, you
will likely not have such lucrative career options.
Of
course we don’t value gifts and talents just from a financial standpoint.
Sometimes we just wish we had a certain talent. There are many talents I
admire, but the one that makes me envious is musical talent. I love music and
wish I were more musical. I tried to play guitar when I was young, but I just
don’t have much talent, and I’m a little jealous of those who do.
The
notion that some talents are better than others or more desirable than others
shows up pretty much everywhere, including at church. Different congregations
have different pecking orders. In one, deep biblical knowledge and teaching
ability might be greatly esteemed. In another it is a beautiful singing voice.
In another, certain leadership skills, and in another, gifts for caring and
nurturing community. Often you can tell a good bit about a congregation by the
sorts of gifts that get you noticed or admired.
I
suppose it’s only natural that certain gifts are more esteemed. Some are in
short supply and harder to find. If a congregation really values the role of
music in worship, musical talent is going to be at more of a premium than in a
congregation where music is less emphasized.
However
this can lead to problems. A hierarchy of gifts can develop that divides a
congregation into actors and spectators. Some people are happy just to be
spectators, but many want something more. It’s hard to feel really a part of
community if you don’t feel like you contribute to it in any significant way.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Easter Sermon: A Visit to the Cemetery
Matthew 28:1-10
A Visit to the Cemetery
James Sledge April
16, 2017, Resurrection of the Lord
I
suppose it’s something of a stereotype. The women are the ones still trying to
care for Jesus. There’s not much they can do, but they can at least go to the
cemetery. They’d been briefly on Friday, but the Sabbath had interrupted, and
they are observant Jews. Now, with the Sabbath over and morning breaking, they
head there again.
I’m
not sure where the men are. They’ve been AWOL since Thursday night, running
away when Jesus was arrested. Peter makes a brief appearance outside the home
of the high priest but denies knowing Jesus when people think they recognize
him, and he’s not been seen since. Perhaps the men are in hiding, fearful that
they could be arrested as well.
Or
perhaps they’re upset and angry at how things played out. A week ago they were
on cloud nine. They had visions of being part of Jesus’ cabinet with he took
power. Yes, he had spoken repeatedly about a cross, but Jesus often talked in
riddles. They had bet that Jesus was different from all those other Messiahs
who appeared and then got executed by the Romans. But now he was dead. Some of
them probably felt Jesus had let them down.
Regardless
of where the men are, two women named Mary head to the cemetery early on a
spring morning. Perhaps they stopped at the local Safeway to pick up some
flowers. That’s the sort of thing you do when you visit a cemetery.
Most
of you have probably made such a visit, perhaps taken some flowers, too. It’s
a perfectly normal sort of thing to do.
People do it all the time. People also go to cemeteries just to be there. They
are quiet, peaceful places, often garden-like. There may be benches where you
can sit and meditate.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Sermon: Be Like Jesus
Philippians 2:1-11 (Matthew 21:1-11)
Be Like Jesus
James Sledge April
9, 2017
When
I was a young boy, my grandmother would sometimes sew matching Easter sport
coats for me and my younger brother. There are pictures of the two of us in our
pastel shorts, plaid jackets, and bow ties. Some years the Easter baskets made
the picture as well.
I’m
talking about Easter a week early because when I was a kid, Palm Sunday and
Easter pretty much ran into one another. Palm Sunday was when you started the
pre-Easter celebration. The new sport coats and ties and Easter dresses would
have to wait another week, but on Palm Sunday we got to wave our palm branches
and parade around, pre-game festivities before the big event.
I’m
sure I learned about the Last Supper, Jesus’ arrest, and the cross. They must have come up in Sunday school. Plus the Lord’s
Suppers that happened four times a year were mostly focused on Jesus’
sacrifice. But for me, Holy Week started with a parade, and then, next stop,
Easter baskets and candy and new clothes and an overflowing church singing and
celebrating. From one celebration to the next.
If
only there were not a cross between this Sunday and next. That would make this
whole Easter business so much easier. Christianity without a cross would be so much
more fun. The crowds in Jerusalem who shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David! could
just keep shouting. They could join me in exchanging their palms for Easter
baskets and new sport coats.
But
it turns out there is a cross, and the crowds don’t much care for it. Jesus was
supposed to rescue them, throw out the Romans, make their lives better, put the
Democrats or the Republicans in power, depending on how you read your scriptures.
But Jesus gets himself arrested and by Friday the crowd is shouting, “Let
him be crucified!”
We
have an advantage over the crowds. We’ve seen how this movie ends so we can
just stay away on Thursday and Friday if we want. We can skip the cross and
exchange our palms for Easter baskets and new Easter outfits.
But
not if Paul has anything to say about it. What a spoilsport. Just because
following Jesus has gotten him beaten, run out of town, and imprisoned more
times than he can count, he seems to think that all Jesus’ followers need to
embrace the cross.
Of
course Jesus says the same thing, says that no one can be his follower without
taking up their cross. He’s pretty insistent on that point, but his own disciples
run when Jesus gets arrested. They didn’t yell, “Let him be crucified!” like
the crowds, but like the crowds, they hoped to exchange palms for Easter
baskets and new sport coats.
Monday, April 3, 2017
Slaying Our Villains
The disciples want Jesus to tell them who is to blame for the man’s blindness. Being blind presents significant challenges to people in our day, but in Jesus’ day, blindness typically meant begging to survive. Obviously such a situation must have been the result of someone’s failure. And so the disciples ask if it was the man’s sin or his parents.
We’ve got other options. This person is poor because he won’t apply himself. That person is on drugs because her moral character is lacking. There are terrorists because Islam is evil. Things are bad because of the Democrats, or is it the Republicans? Him or his parents?
Reasons and explanations make for a more orderly world. It’s nice to know that this action tends to lead to that outcome. It helps us make better decisions and to learn from our mistakes. But we humans have a bad tendency to think we know more than we do. We over generalize when it suits us. “I’ve worked hard and done well for myself. Therefor hard work gets people ahead, and people in poverty are there because they are lazy.” Our generalizing is even true now and then, which only makes it more enticing.
I should add that this problem is totally non-partisan. It simply takes different forms depending on one’s point of view. We all have different villains that we blame for “how things are.” Perhaps our villain is a breakdown of morality or perhaps it is corporate greed and malfeasance. Perhaps it is the One Percent or perhaps it is the welfare state.
Often there is enough evidence to convince some that our villain is THE cause. And we agree that the only solution is to slay our villain. Whatever problem we are considering, we tend to approach it like the disciples when they saw the blind man. We look for villains. And very often the question of whose fault it is becomes so consuming that we forget to ask, “What can we do to help?”
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
We’ve got other options. This person is poor because he won’t apply himself. That person is on drugs because her moral character is lacking. There are terrorists because Islam is evil. Things are bad because of the Democrats, or is it the Republicans? Him or his parents?
Reasons and explanations make for a more orderly world. It’s nice to know that this action tends to lead to that outcome. It helps us make better decisions and to learn from our mistakes. But we humans have a bad tendency to think we know more than we do. We over generalize when it suits us. “I’ve worked hard and done well for myself. Therefor hard work gets people ahead, and people in poverty are there because they are lazy.” Our generalizing is even true now and then, which only makes it more enticing.
I should add that this problem is totally non-partisan. It simply takes different forms depending on one’s point of view. We all have different villains that we blame for “how things are.” Perhaps our villain is a breakdown of morality or perhaps it is corporate greed and malfeasance. Perhaps it is the One Percent or perhaps it is the welfare state.
Often there is enough evidence to convince some that our villain is THE cause. And we agree that the only solution is to slay our villain. Whatever problem we are considering, we tend to approach it like the disciples when they saw the blind man. We look for villains. And very often the question of whose fault it is becomes so consuming that we forget to ask, “What can we do to help?”
Click to learn more about the lectionary.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Sermon: You Are the Ones
Matthew 5:13-16 (April Renew Group reading)
You Are the Ones
James Sledge April
2, 2017
Today’s gospel
reading does not come from the lectionary as it does most Sundays. This week we
hear the passage chosen to facilitate discussion among our congregation’s Renew Groups that are meeting in
members’ homes and discussing who we are as a congregation. This passage is a
portion of the so-called Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5:1 – 7:29. These
teachings come immediately after the Beatitudes.
Today’s
gospel reading is a small portion of what is usually called “The Sermon on the Mount.”
I’m not sure that’s the best title. Jesus isn’t really preaching; he’s
teaching. Here’s how Matthew describes the scene. When Jesus saw the crowds, he
went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he
began to speak and taught them saying… What follows are the Beatitudes,
then our verses for this morning and then much more after that.
Jesus
is teaching his disciples, but they are not the only ones who hear. The crowds
are there as well. Jesus may not be speaking directly to them, but they still overhear.
Do they think Jesus is also speaking to them as they listen in?
These
crowds aren’t followers, aren’t disciples. They’re curious and intrigued. They may
hope Jesus can cure their ailments or help in some other way. But as they listen
in from a distance, standing at the back of the church with one foot still
outside the sanctuary, it’s not clear what will come of their encounter with
Jesus.
Jesus
has just offered his strange list of those who are blessed, favored by God: the
poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek and the merciful, the peacemakers and
those who are persecuted. The very last blessing shifts from “Blessed are,” to
“Blessed are you…” “Blessed are you when people
revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on
my account,” says Jesus. After all, that’s what happened to
the prophets before you.
And
then, in the verses we just heard, Jesus doubles down on that word “you.” “You
are the salt of the earth.” But that translation doesn’t really capture
the force of what Jesus says. Jesus literally uses a double “you,” and maybe a
better way to render this in English would be “You are the ones who are the
salt of the earth… You are the ones who are the light of the world.”
All
of these yous are plural by the way.
“You all are the ones… You guys are the ones.” Obviously the disciples seated
around Jesus hear him saying that they are “the ones,” but what about the
crowds? What about those on the edges listening in? What about those at the
back of the sanctuary? What about those who are thinking about bringing a child
to Vacation Bible School? What about those who like Christianity and the idea
of Jesus but are not involved in any sort of ministry or mission? Is Jesus
speaking to them?
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Sermon video: Drawn to the Water
Unfortunately, the camera does not capture the work of the young women playing Jesus and the Samaritan woman.
Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.
Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.
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