Love Your Neighbor. Wear Your Mask

I went for a run this morning along one of the many trails we are blessed to have in the DC area. I was far from alone. There were a good many people out walking, running, biking, roller blading, etc. I was not surprised by the numbers, but I was a little surprised at how few of them were wearing masks.

I’m sure the reasons for this were varied. They are a little inconvenient. I find them especially annoying for running. They interfere with my breathing (though perhaps this simulates altitude training?). But I’ve read of one study showing how the slipstream effect causes runners to leave a trail of droplets floating 30 feet in their wake. For cyclists, it’s 60 feet. So I wear the mask. I would hate to unknowingly infect someone else.

I imagine there are still those who don’t yet understand that masks are not for protecting you but for protecting others. However I see people online proudly broadcasting their refusal to wear a mask, couching it in terms of personal freedom that won’t be taken from them. Curiously, some of these same people claim to be conservative Christians, yet there is something profoundly un-Christlike about elevating one’s personal freedom above the good of the other.

Jesus is clear that following him involves self denial. He is just as clear that loving God is inseparable from loving your neighbor as yourself. To declare, “My neighbor be damned; I’m not wearing any mask,” seems fundamentally at odds with the core of the Christian life.

If anything, wearing a mask in these days of pandemic is a relatively easy and painless way to embody love of neighbor, to enflesh Jesus’ call to faithful discipleship. Do good. Love your neighbor. Wear your mask.

Sermon video: Unfinished Business

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Easter sermon: Unfinished Business

Matthew 28:1-10

Unfinished Business

James Sledge                                                                                       April 12, 2020, Easter

“Unfinished business lingers in every graveyard—broken promises, betrayals, countless secrets left to perish with the departed.”[1] That quote really resonated with me when I first read it years ago. I suspect that it is true for most people. There’s always something that should have been said but wasn’t, a conflict that wasn’t resolved, a wound that still festers, a chance for reconciliation lost.

 I once heard about a woman who could not get past the unfinished business with her late husband. After his death she learned of a terrible betrayal by him, and it poisoned all her memories of their life together. She was able to move on only after following her pastor’s suggestion of going to the cemetery to have it out with her husband. I presume that he remained silent for this “conversation,” but through it she was able to deal with some of her hurt and anger, some of the unfinished business from her husband’s death.

In a Jerusalem graveyard all those centuries ago, unfinished business lingered. The followers of Jesus were left to contemplate how they had abandoned him in his hour of need, deserting him when he was arrested. For Peter, that included cursing and swearing that he did not even know Jesus. Peter had wept bitter tears afterward, but they had not washed away the horrible memory. 

And then there was their disappointment and anger at Jesus. How could he have let this happen? He put up no fight at all. Maybe he was not who they thought he was, who they hoped he was.

Perhaps all this unfinished business is the reason that only two women go to the tomb that first Easter morning. For others, memories of abandonment, desertion, denial, failure, disappointment were too fresh, too raw. Visits to the tomb would have to wait.

Sermon video: Palms, Passion... and Lament?

Audios and videos of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Palms, Parades... and Lament?

Matthew 26:14-21, 36-46, 27:11-23, 35-46

Palms, Parades… and Lament?

James Sledge                                                                                       April 5, 2020

I’m sure that I’ve spoken before about my experiences of Easter as a child. I say Easter because for me as a young boy, Palm Sunday was simply the pregame show for Easter, a big celebration that prefigured the bigger celebration to come. My brothers and I I already had our new Easter sport coats, my sister her new Easter dress, and we had already dug out our Easter baskets. 

On Palm Sunday, we got to march around the sanctuary waving palms. On Palm Sunday, we had a celebratory parade, a grand, rah-rah moment. On Palm Sunday we left the church with shouts of “Hosanna!” echoing in our ears; just a week to the even grander celebration.

As a child, I never heard the term Passion Sunday. This was Palm Sunday. Period. No thoughts of betrayal and a cross, of suffering and death. No thoughts of despair and darkness.

I’m not sure when I first encountered Palm/Passion Sunday. It’s possible it wasn’t until I attended seminary. Oh I knew about Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the cross. But they didn’t intrude much into Sunday worship. I could go from one parade to another, not bothering with the cross and the darkness of Good Friday.

Passion Sunday intruded into the rhythms of Holy Week and Easter I learned as a child. It was something of a downer. Who wants to mourn when you could just celebrate? But can we really go straight from “Hosanna!” to “He is risen!” without the cross? 

Sermon video: Resurrection Life

During this time of COVID-19, we are not posting audios of worship, but you can find sermon videos and the church website and videos of the worship services on the church Facebook page.

Sermon: Resurrection Life

Resurrection Life

John 11:1-45

James Sledge                                                                                       March 29,2020

Often at funerals, I open with a quote from our reading today. “I am the resurrection and the life, (says the Lord). Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” The Presbyterian Book of Common Worship calls a funeral “A Service of Witness to the Resurrection,” so that seems fitting.

I also have vivid memories of using part of our gospel reading at the funeral service of my father-in-law, Roy. I had just started seminary, taking an intensive summer course in Greek before my first semester began. I had no experience or training to do a funeral, but the pastor at his church was new, and my mother-in-law wanted someone who knew Roy to speak.

I talked about the tenderness and love of Jesus who was moved when he saw Mary weeping, who despite knowing that he would shortly raise Lazarus from the dead, nonetheless wept for him. But while I was well into my summer Greek course, I still had a lot to learn about Greek and about using it to study scripture. And so I didn’t realize that I misunderstood Jesus’ emotions.

Of course there’s such a long history of reading these verses as examples of Jesus’ compassion and humanity, that even Bible translators are wary of rendering them in a straightforward manner. Our NRSV Bible says, When Jesus saw (Mary) weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. But a more direct reading of the Greek would be something like, he was deeply angry and agitated.

Sermon video: Here Is an Astonishing Thing

Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Here Is an Astonishing Thing

John 9:1-41

Here Is an Astonishing Thing

James Sledge                                                                                                   March 22.2020

I want to tell you a story. It isn’t really a “true” story, at least not in the sense modern people tend to use the word. The story doesn’t report actual events, but what the story talks about has happened and does happen. In our own denomination, it happened only a decade ago. In other denominations, the “truth” of this story is still on display.

As graduation neared, a young seminary student searched for a position as solo pastor of a small church. But being female and single, many churches seemed hesitant to consider her. She preached well, but didn’t fit the image that many seemed to have for a pastor.

Finally, she accepted the call of a tiny, struggling – most would say dying – congregation in a small Alabama town. Thirty people on Sunday was a big crowd, and finances were always a problem. In three years without a pastor, they had saved up some money, but even paying her the minimum salary the denomination allowed, they worried about being able to afford her for more than a few years.

It wasn’t exactly what she had dreamed of when she entered seminary, but it was where God had led her, and she threw herself, heart and soul, into the work. She embraced and loved her congregation, people very different in culture and background from herself.  Despite their small numbers and paltry finances, she acted like they and their church mattered. She not only loved and comforted them, she boldly proclaimed God’s word and challenged them about where and how they would minister to their community.

Sermon video: Getting Reborn

Audios of worship and sermons available on the FCPC website.

Sermon video: Discovering Who We Are

Audios of worship and sermons available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Getting Reborn

John 3:1-17

Getting Reborn

James Sledge                                                                                                   March 8, 2020

I have a love-hate relationship with today’s gospel reading. It is a beautiful passage, filled with all manner of imagery and symbolism and nuance. But it also has been much abused and so has a fair amount of baggage. For too many these words are read as a litmus test. “Have you had a born again conversion experience?” If not, you’re on the outside looking in.

This passage is the rainbow wigged guy who used to go to sporting events and hold up his John 3:16 sign. But that verse also gets reduced to formula. “Believe in Jesus and you are saved.” Yet Nicodemus clearly believes in Jesus, believes he is from God, but he leaves the scene more befuddled than when he first arrived.

Nick is an interesting fellow. He comes in for his share of bad press, this guy who can’t understand what Jesus is talking about. But Nick may be a lot like many of us. He is a respected, educated member of his community, a leader in his church. He’s a bright, rational fellow who is impressed by Jesus. Clearly Jesus is someone special, and the wonderful things he does couldn’t happen if God was not with him, could they?

Churches, especially Mainline churches, are filled with people like Nick, people who are drawn to Jesus but who also struggle to embrace him completely. We’ll listen to him up to a point, but we’re often not quite sure what he’s saying, and so not quite ready to go all in.

Nick comes to see Jesus at night. That’s more than the time of day. Light and dark are symbolic categories in John’s gospel, and Nick is not ready to step into the light. Like some of us, he is drawn to Jesus but prefers to remain on the periphery, in the shadows.

I’m not entirely sure why Nick comes to see Jesus. If he has some question to ask he never gets the chance. He barely gets the chance to make his introduction. “Hi, Jesus. Great to meet you. Really impressed with what you’re doing. No doubt, God is with you.” But before he can say more, Jesus speaks. He says that no one can see the kingdom of God, can see God’s new day, without being born anothen. (a[nwqen)