Sunday, November 24, 2019

Sermon: Failing the Cowboy Test

Luke 23:33-43
Failing the Cowboy Test
James Sledge                                                               November 24, 2019

I was sitting on the couch watching television the other night. More accurately, I was looking for something to watch. I pulled up the channel guide and scrolled through it, but nothing really grabbed me. As I got to the very end, I saw a listing that read simply, “Cheyenne.”
I used to watch a show called Cheyenne when I was a little boy, and so I clicked on it to see if it was that. Sure enough, there, in beautiful black and white, was Clint Walker starring as Cheyenne Bodie.
Now I suspect that many of you have never heard of either Cheyenne Bodie or the actor who played him, but the show was a huge success when it aired from the mid-1950s to early 60s. According to Wikipedia, it was the first hour-long Western and the first hour-long dramatic series of any sort to last more than a single season.
Cheyenne was a large and muscular, but a gentle fellow, at least until someone needed justice. Then he was more than willing to use his brawn, or his gun, to set things right.
Cowboy heroes were all over the television when I was a boy, both in afternoon reruns and in primetime. There were many variations in the slew of Westerns that filled the airways, but in most all of them, the dramatic climax of the show came when good defeated evil in a fist fight or a gunfight. Good put evil in its place, and, for a moment at least, things were right with the world again.
My and many others’ notions of heroism and bravery and masculinity were shaped by Cheyenne and the Lone Ranger and Marshall Dillon and Roy Rogers and on and on and on. These heroes weren’t afraid to fight for what they believed in, even when the odds were against them. A real hero, a real man, might not want to fight, but he was more than ready to do so in order to defend himself or others.
I wonder if this isn’t one reason that so many of us Christians struggle with following Jesus. He asks us to live in ways that are contrary to accepted notions of strength, of bravery, of masculinity, of might and right. He tells us not to fight back. He tells us to love our enemy. He says not to seek restitution when someone takes something from us.
Jesus fails miserably at the cowboy test, the superhero test. Yes, he does best his opponents in verbal repartee on a regular basis, but when push comes to shove, he refuses to fight back. When he is arrested, he goes meekly. When people give false testimony at his trial, he makes no attempt to defend himself. When he is convicted for being a political threat to the empire, he raises no objection. No wonder that when the risen Jesus comes along a pair of his disciples on the afternoon of that first Easter, they say of him, “But we had hoped that he was the one…” They had hoped, but clearly he was not. If he had been, he would not have gone down without a fight. If he had been, it wouldn’t have ended like this.

Sunday, November 17, 2019

Sermon: Saying "Yes" to God's New Day

Isaiah 65:17-25
Saying “Yes” to God’s New Day
James Sledge                                                                                  November 17, 2019

A few weeks ago, one of my Facebook “friends” posted this on her page. “When the time changes next weekend could we please go back to 1965 when life was simple!!!!! I think most will agree the 60’s were the best years of their life!!!” 
“Most”  here obviously doesn’t include anyone born after 1970. It might not include those who served or lost loved ones in Vietnam. It’s probably doesn’t include civil rights marchers who faced dogs, fire hoses, beatings, and death threats. But for many, including an eight year old me, it did seem a wonderful, simple time. We lived what I thought was the nearly idyllic life of a typical suburban family. Oh, for life to be that easy again.
Nostalgia is a way that many of us react when things are not going as well as we’d like. As with my Facebook “friend,” it usually involves some selective remembering that focuses on the good and forgets the bad. Those who want to make America great again, recall a time when American was in its ascendency, the preeminent superpower with a growing middle class, burgeoning suburbs, and an interstate highway system beginning to be built. Of course this nostalgia forgets the large numbers of people who were systemically excluded because of  race, gender, sexual orientation, and so on. It forgets the ecological damage being done without the least bit of concern.
There’s a lot of nostalgia in the church these days. Remember when the sanctuary was always full? Remember when the confirmation class had forty youth in it? Remember when we couldn’t find enough rooms for all the Sunday School classes? Remember?
Of course nostalgia forgets that 1950s Christianity often actively supported laws enforcing racial segregation and criminalizing sexual orientations or behaviors seen as “deviant,” The Church gave religious sanction to American society, speaking in biblical terms of a new Jerusalem, in exchange for the culture all but requiring people to participate in religion. But it was an easier time to be church, although Jesus did say that following him would be difficult.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Sermon: Rightly Ordered Priorities


Haggai 1:15b-2:9
Rightly Ordered Priorities
James Sledge                                             November 10, 2019

I’m not sure when children’s sermons became a standard part of American worship services, but my church had them when I was a child. As with other elements of worship, there are resource books on children’s sermons. I have a couple of old ones that a retiring pastor gave me. Unfortunately, almost all the ideas are object lessons, practical examples used to explain more abstract ideas about faith. But child development experts say that object lesson don’t work with young children whose thinking is too concrete, which explains why it is often adults who enjoy the children’s sermons while the little ones fidget through them.
A colleague once shared with me a children’s sermon on tithing. I really like it, but it’s another object lesson. And so I’m using it in a regular sermon. A basket of ten apples represents a person’s income. Our faith says that all we have is a gift from God. The only thing God asks is that we use the first part of our gifts to do God’s work.
God has given me ten apples. A tithe would be one of them, so I will give one apple back to God. And I still have a whole basket full to use for the things I need and want.
But very often, people don’t do it that way. I take my ten apples and buy a car and food, pay rent, take a vacation, fund hobbies, pay for streaming and cell service, and so on until little is left. Then I think about giving to God, but it would be everything I’ve got.
I can’t imagine that many young children ever made head nor tails of this lesson, but the point is a good one for those of us old enough to understand. The practice of generosity is much, much easier when it comes first. It is difficult to be generous when you only give from what is left over after you are done.
That’s true of faith and discipleship in general. If we seek to follow Jesus, to pray, study, serve others, worship, and so on, only after we’ve done everything else we need and want, there is never enough time or money left over.
Faith, discipleship, true spirituality, are largely about getting life rightly ordered. On some level, we know this intuitively. You may have  heard the adage, “No one on their deathbed ever said, ‘I wish I’d spent more time at the office.’” We nod our heads in agreement yet we still struggle with disordered priorities.

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Sermon: Experiencing Love, Sharing Love

Luke 19:1-10
Experiencing Love, Sharing Love
James Sledge                                                             November 3, 2019

I read an article the other day about recent research on partisanship in America. It said that 9 in 10 Americans say they are “frustrated by the uncivil and rude behavior of many politicians.” But at the very same time, 8 in 10 Americans are “tired of leaders compromising my values and ideals” and want leaders “who will stand up to the other side.”[1]
It would seem, at least the case of partisan divides, that Americans decry the political boundaries that divide us into camps, recognizing that these divisions are caustic and destructive. And yet, these same Americans want “their side” to fight against the other. We lament our divisions while, at the same time, encouraging them.
And in case you haven’t noticed, politics is just one of many things that create “us and them” dynamics. We divide by race, income, gender, age, education level, and more. Some boundaries are more rigid than others, but we learn at an early age how to navigate and deal with them. It doesn’t take long for school aged children to recognize divisions between rich and poor, in and out, cool and not so cool, athletes and nerds, and so on.
Religion gets in on the game, too, with all sorts of boundaries, some clear, some subtle. Are you a member? Are you saved? Do you believe the right things? Do you fit in or not?
We’re a liberal church. We’re a conservative church. We’re a liturgical church. We like highbrow music. We like praise songs. I suppose that some such preferences are unavoidable, but we often take it a step further. It’s not really church if it doesn’t have the right kind of music, right kind of liturgy, right political stance, or, perhaps, no political stance. And if you don’t think such boundaries fence people out here at FCPC, serve at one of our Wednesday Welcome Tables and observe the hundreds of people there. Then observe how nary a one returns for worship on a Sunday. They know that they don’t belong.

Sunday, October 13, 2019

Sermon: In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours
James Sledge                                      October 13, 2019

Has the ground ever shifted under your feet, something you thought sure, permanent, certain, unchanging, suddenly failed you? For much of the 20th century, American factory workers assumed there would always be good, high-paying manufacturing jobs with pensions for them and their children. But then factories began to close, and jobs began to dry up.
On a more personal level, someone you counted on, the one person you were certain would always be there for you, suddenly betrays you. It could be a spouse, a best friend, a child, a parent, but the trauma of such a betrayal can leave people unmoored and at a loss for what to do next.
American Christianity, or perhaps I should say, American churches have experienced the ground shake under them as well. It happened more gradually than a factory closing or a spouse leaving, but it has been no less devastating for many congregations.
When America sought a return to “normal” after World War II, church was assumed to be a big part of that normal. As suburbs exploded in the 1950s, denominations put scores of new churches in them. Mainline denominations like Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Episcopalians used a formula that almost always worked. If we build it, they will come. People were “supposed” to go to church, and so the new neighborhood churches easily found new members while existing congregations built additions to handle all the people.
Those were heady times for Presbyterians and others. We enjoyed significant influence in the public square. Our seminaries were filled with bright young minds. Denominational headquarters swelled and expanded. “The Protestant Hour” was broadcast on over 600 radio stations nationwide, as well as on the Armed Forces Network.
I grew up assuming that you went to church on Sunday morning, unless you were Jewish. It was a fairly safe assumption in 1960s South Carolina. Nothing much else happened on Sunday morning. The stores and movie theaters were closed. The pool didn’t open until after lunch, and no youth sports team even thought about playing or practicing.
I suspect that many congregations assumed it would always be so. The suburbs would keep growing and so would the churches. We would keep building new churches, keep holding worship services, and the people would keep streaming in, encouraged by a culture that expected religious participation as a part of American citizenship.
But for many of you here today, such a world has never existed. You grew up with Sunday soccer leagues, walk-a-thons, 5Ks, and other community events. Almost no businesses closed on Sunday, and church was just one option in a plethora of them.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Higher Loyalties

I recently had the honor of attending the promotion ceremony of a church member. (Congratulations, Colonel Balten!) At that ceremony, she once again took her military oath of office. I had heard it before, but I'm always struck when I do. Here it is.

I, [name], do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.
I find it remarkable that our military officers swear to support and defend not their service branch, not their leaders, military or civilian, not even the nation itself, but rather the ideals on which the nation is built. They swear to defend freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to peaceably protest, and more from "all enemies, foreign and domestic." The oath demands a loyalty to higher principles, and as such, it is aspirational. I doubt anyone is able to keep it perfectly. At times it surely comes in conflict with climbing the career ladder, obeying an order, etc. I do suspect, however, that many in the military come closer to upholding their oath than do some others in the service of our country.

Members of Congress, the President, Supreme Court justices, and so on take oaths to defend the constitution. They all pledge a higher loyalty than party or political gain, but in these highly partisan times, this higher loyalty is often difficult to detect. On occasion, the good of the nation overrides partisan interests, but those occasions seem to be more and more rare.

Our current president has added a new wrinkle to this problem by seemingly conflating loyalty to the nation and its ideals with loyalty to him personally. Perhaps this is simply a natural progression in the move away from a loyalty to higher principles toward smaller and smaller loyalties. And the smallest loyalty of all is one to self alone.

America's emphasis on individual freedoms and rights may at times encourage this problem, although our founding documents attempt to strike a balance between the good of the individual and the good of the whole. It's not a new problem though. In a letter to his congregation in Corinth, the Apostle Paul addresses members there whose personal freedoms and rights seem unconcerned with the good of others.

The issue in Corinth is eating meat that has been sacrificed in pagan temples, something forbidden by the Scripture (which for Paul and the first Christians was what we call the Old Testament). This might seem a minor problem but most meat at the butcher shop had started out as a sacrifice somewhere. Buying meat for supper risked violating the Law unless one was very careful.

But Paul said that through Jesus, he had been freed from the Law, and some Corinthians decided they could eat meat without a second thought. But others were bothered by this. In Monday's daily lectionary passage from 1 Corinthians 10:14-11:1, Paul addresses this conflict, writing, " 'All things are lawful,' but not all things are beneficial. 'All things are lawful,' but not all things build up. Do not seek your own advantage, but that of the other."

For Paul, the exercise of freedom or rights that would harm another is inconceivable. For Paul, freedom does not mean he gets to do what ever he wants. Paul has been freed for a new life "in Christ," a life that is profoundly for others, a life guided by Christ-like love as its highest loyalty.

As with politics, this fealty to a higher principle - in this case a love for others - is too often absent from American Christianity. Faith is often viewed in highly individualistic terms, almost like a consumer commodity. Faith, spirituality, belief, is something undertaken for personal benefit. This may be divine blessings, the promise of heaven, a spiritual buzz, or some other good. In its worst manifestations, it becomes almost totally focused on one's personal salvation, spiritual fulfillment, peace of mind, heavenly reward, etc. with little concern for others beyond a very limited sphere.

The guarantee of personal freedoms and rights is one of the real strengths of the founding principles of our nation. But those freedoms and rights were never intended to be absolutes, and when they become objects of ultimate loyalty, they are what Scripture calls "idols." The problem of idols is not a mechanical one, a danger from certain sorts of statues or images. The problem is one of loyalties, and the very human tendency to misplace our loyalties. The problem is perhaps even more acute among religious sorts for we are endlessly able to enlist our gods and beliefs in our personal causes, at which point we have converted our god into an idol.

There's a well worn quote from writer Anne Lamott that is well attuned to this problem of idol making. "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns our God hates all the same people you do." In other words, is your god loyal to you, or are you loyal to the God we meet in Jesus?

You can find the Daily Lectionary here.


Sunday, October 6, 2019

Sermon: Meeting God in Scripture: Enough Faith

Luke 17:1-10
Meeting God in Scripture: Enough Faith
James Sledge                                                      October 6, 2019

Over the summer, I read a church-focused blog post on preaching entitled “Don’t Start with the Bible.”[1] It suggested bringing Scripture into a sermon only at the last possible moment, after raising some issue, examining ways the culture is responding, and identifying fruitful responses. Then and only then, connect the fruitful responses to Scripture.
The author is concerned that starting with Scripture invites folks to tune out the preacher because people don’t see the Bible as an authority. In fact, many view Scripture with suspicion, an antiquated religious book with little connection to their everyday lives.
I can’t argue with that, but still, I’m inclined not to follow the blog’s recommendation. Yes, there are difficulties. Some of you may view the Bible with a degree of skepticism, and I would never expect to win any argument with, “Well the Bible says so.” Yet in a time with so few cultural inducements or expectations to attend church or be Christian, surely most people who do show up are looking for something more than what they can find on their own. They are hoping to find meaning or purpose not found from culture, from work or hobbies or other experiences. They are hoping Church has something unique to offer.
The Bible would seem ready made for this, a huge collection of stories, poetry, imagery, regulations, teachings, letters, and more drawn from the various experiences of the faith community over the centuries. All of these explore, examine, and reflect on the encounters with and efforts to live in relationship to the mystery we call God.