Joyful Noise Anthem for Pentecost - "Let All God's Children Sing" by Mark Patterson

Musings on the Daily Lectionary - What Kind of Messiah?

In today's gospel reading, John the baptizer, who is in prison, sends some of his disciples to question Jesus, asking if he is indeed the promised Messiah. I find it interesting the things Jesus says confirm that he is indeed this promised one. "The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them."

When you ask Christians what it means to be Christian, you get lots of different answers. Sadly, these answers sometimes say more about the cultural presuppositions of those questioned than they do about the ways of Jesus. Liberal or conservative, we all have a tendency to believe in a Jesus who talks and acts a lot like us. And so there is patriotic Jesus, meek and mild Jesus, social justice Jesus, sword wielding conqueror Jesus, and so on.

Because none of us are immune to this problem of fashioning a Jesus in our own image, it is a good idea to simply listen to Jesus now and then, doing our best not to filter what he says through our own biases. I wonder how well what Jesus points to in order to demonstrate he is God's Messiah fits in with what you or I think it means to follow Jesus. And if what Jesus is doing says anything about the Kingdom he is bringing, what does that say about how his followers should live and act?

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Sunday Sermon - What Sort of Birthday?

What Sort of Birthday - May 23 sermon for Pentecost.mp3

John 14:8-17, 25-27 (Acts 2:1-21)

What Sort of Birthday?

James Sledge -- May 23, 2010 – Pentecost

Today is the birthday of the Church. Happy Birthday, Church. It is also the birthday of Ambrose Burnside, Civil War general from whom sideburns got their name. Bandleader Artie Shaw was born on this day, as was singer Rosemary Clooney. Boxer Marvelous Marvin Hagler, comedian Drew Carey, and singer Jewel also celebrate their birthdays today. Perhaps there is also someone here who is celebrating a birthday today.

Of course we’re not doing anything at my house to celebrate General Burnside’s birthday. I had to do a computer search just to know about it. Same for all those other folks. Some of those births may be historical events, but they’re little more than a passing curiosity to me.

It’s hard to get too excited about the birthday of someone you don’t know, and it’s even harder to get excited about some long dead historical figure. We may put George Washington’s birthday on calendars, but I can’t remember the exact date. I know it’s February. Even Jesus’ birthday had been long forgotten by the time the Church decided we ought to celebrate it. So they borrowed an existing holiday.

Not only do birthdays take on different significance when we know someone, but they feel different depending on the age of the person. I’ve been invited to a few 90^th birthday parties, and even a couple of 100^th birthdays. They have a very different feel from a first or second birthday party. They may be happy and joyous, a genuine celebration, but they do not anticipate much. The gaze at such a party is mostly toward the past, and there is a lot of remembering and reminiscing. There are certainly no gifts of clothes that must be grown into or toys that will help someone learn a new skill.

And now here we are at the Church’s birthday party. What sort of feel does is have for you? What sort of gifts would be appropriate? Is the gaze mostly toward past or the future?

If you grew up in the Church like I did, or even if you’ve simply been around the Church for a few years, you’ve likely heard about the Church’s birthday, about Pentecost and the Holy Spirit. The reading from Acts shows up most every Pentecost, and so many of us know that today commemorates the sending of the Holy Spirit. We speak of the Holy Spirit often. The Spirit is in our songs and hymns, in our creeds and prayers. And yet I know a lot of Christians who seem to think the Holy Spirit is a relic of the past.

I probably need to qualify that. A lot of Christians think the Holy Spirit described in the Pentecost story is a relic of the past. They’ll speak of the Spirit being with them or in them, but they seem to be describing a rather vague feeling. And sometimes they speak of the Spirit as something innate to humans, something that gives us an awareness of God.

But such notions have little connection to what the Bible and Jesus say about the Spirit. There the Spirit is not something naturally a part of us. Rather it is God’s presence and power sent to us to equip and empower us to be the body of Christ. The story in Acts vividly describes the disciples being given extraordinary gifts via the Spirit so they could share the good news with all. And when Jesus speaks with his followers just prior to his arrest in our gospel reading today, he promises that God will send the Spirit, the Advocate. And this gift is also associated with the church being empowered to continue Jesus’ ministry. Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”

According to our faith story, the Church whose birthday we celebrate is given extraordinary powers through the Spirit. Jesus promises to be present to us through the Spirit, and to do whatever we ask in his name. So why do so many Christians seem to see the Church like a hundred year old aunt or uncle who is still alive and vigorous, but whose days are obviously numbered?

If you’re not up on all things churchy, you may be unaware of the high level of anxiety that is out there in many denominations and congregations. Membership numbers for Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Episcopalians have declined dramatically over the last few decades. In recent years, even folks like the Southern Baptists have joined in the decline. Statistically almost no one is doing well. And yet as we celebrate the Church’s birthday today, we hear Jesus telling us, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” What gives?

Growing up in the Church, I heard people routinely end their prayers with, “in Jesus’ name we pray.” I don’t know about you, but hearing this on a regular basis led me to believe that this was the proper formula to use if you wanted to get what you were asking for. It was a church equivalent of “pretty please” or “Abracadabra.”

But “in my name” was never meant as a formula. Rather, it describes the relationship of what Jesus’ followers are doing to what Jesus has done. It is about continuing Jesus’ ministry, about obeying his commandments. It is about being a community where the world can see the risen Christ still at work. “In my name” is Jesus entrusting us to be his faithful representatives in the world. And it is his promise to be with us and help us when we are faithful to that call.

And that raises a question. If we are feeling anxious about the future, if we are worried about the fate of the Church or our congregation, is it because Jesus was lying when he said he would give us what we asked for? Or is it because what we’re asking for, wishing for, pining for, isn’t what Jesus wants us to be doing on his behalf, in his name?

As we celebrate the Church’s birthday, it is natural to look back, to remember her triumphs and accomplishments. And I suppose it is only normal to worry when numbers go down and budgets are tight. But it seems to me that such times are also a call to take stock, to examine ourselves and ask where we are being faithful and where we need to move in new directions if we are to minister in Jesus’ name, on his behalf, if we are to be Christ to the world.

As we celebrate the Church’s birthday, I see clear signs that the Spirit is blowing through the Church, calling and empowering those who will look to the future. I hear the hope the Spirit brings in the voices of those on our Dream Team as they listen for where God is calling us. And I am convinced that when we are attentive to that call, the Spirit will be powerfully present, instructing and guiding us, gifting and empowering us. Where do you hear the Spirit moving us? What is Jesus calling us, and you, to do “in his name,” as his representatives.

As we celebrate the Church’s birthday, peering into an uncertain future, Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” You will do even greater works. And God will be glorified, and the world will see the Son in you.

Thanks be to God!

Musings on the Daily Lectionary - Saved

What is it about me that most needs saving? That may seem an odd question to ask, but Christianity is, after all, a faith that speaks a lot about salvation and being saved. In his book, A New Kind of Christianity, Brian McLaren says of the younger generations that are drifting away from the Church, "they just can't figure out what they're being saved from, or for, enough to stay." (p. 162)

In today's gospel reading, Jesus first forgives and then heals a paralyzed man. The forgiveness bespeaks a deep compassion, "Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven." The healing is done - or so it seems - mostly to verify Jesus' authority to forgive sin. Would Jesus have healed the man had such proof not been needed? Did he need forgiveness more than healing? Was Jesus already going to heal him as well?

I don't know that the biblical text gives easy answers to such questions. Certainly Jesus is more often portrayed simply healing people, so the story may be more interested in talking about Jesus than about the paralyzed man. Perhaps the commonly held view that such maladies were the result of sin prompts Jesus to assure the man his relationship with God is restored. But in the end, while I try to determine how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, the paralyzed man is both healed and forgiven. His life is made whole and full.

Which takes me back to my original question, What about me most needs saving? Too often in the Church, we want to reduce salvation and saving to a status question meaning, "Has your ticket to heaven been punched." But there is nothing in this story, or any of the other saving stories in Matthew, about going to heaven. They are stories about healing, forgiving, restoring, and wholeness, not stories about what happens to you after you die.

Perhaps McLaren is correct. The biggest problem facing many denominations and congregations is the fact that salvation has become so disconnected from life. When salvation is about some far off heaven, what does it have to do with following Jesus or a kingdom that has "come near?"

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Musings on the Daily Lectionary - Truth and Love

As the author of Ephesians about how people's different spiritual gifts work together to build up the body of Christ, and how we are called to grow mature, he says that we are to speak "the truth in love." Yet I think I have seen truth used more often as a weapon than I have seen it used in a loving manner. We have proverbial sayings that reflect this. "The truth hurts." And there is nothing nastier than a fight over "religious truths."

But surely speaking truth in love should look somewhat kinder. Looking at the Jesus found in the gospels, when I see him speak his truth, it seems a much more gracious and generous truth that is often spoken by those of us who claim to follow him. He reaches out and embraces those the religious folks thought unlovable. He invites people to follow him, but I don't recall him ever threatening or verbally accosting someone who did not. He rarely spoke harshly or in anger, and then it was usually to stop religious authorities who wielded their "truth" like a weapon.

Insomuch as I and others like me call ourselves "Christians," it seems only appropriate that we should seek to model ourselves after Jesus. But we live in a culture that often prefers spin to truth, and that brings out the truth when it will provide an advantage. But what if we became Jesus-like truth tellers? What a powerful witness to the world that would be.

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Musings on the Daily Lectionary - Who Is Jesus

In today's gospel, Jesus speaks to the storm, and it obeys him. A raging storm becomes absolute calm. I know that as a preacher, I usually don't like it when such passages show up for Sunday. What do you say about Jesus doing a miracle such as this. About the only question that immediately comes to mind is, "Did this actually happen or not?"

Arguments about the Bible often follow the same sort of pattern. "Do you believe what it says is really true?" But I have started to think that the real significance of this story, and others like it, is less about what did or didn't happen and much more about what it means to depict Jesus as one whose voice can command creation.

I can decide to believe that Jesus did this miracle and that not necessarily make much difference in how I live or how I understand the nature of God, and so on. But when I start to explore the implications of this story... Only God can speak and creation respond. The real issue here is "Who is Jesus?" And if Jesus is indeed, Emmanuel, God with us, all sorts of other issues immediately arise.

For starters, if God can be fully present in a human being, then I immediately have to reconsider some popular notions about fleshy, physical existence being an inferior sort of existence. And if Jesus is truly God with us, then it seems that my understanding of who God is and what it means to be human are to be found here. It's not unusual to hear people speak of a meek and mild, loving Jesus while at the very same time picturing a demanding, harsh, God who has no trouble shipping off millions of people to eternal damnation. But if this Jesus who has compassion on the people because they are like sheep without a shepherd, who welcomes sinners and outcast, and who prays that his executioners be forgiven; if this Jesus is indeed God, then how can God be out to get so many people?

Just who is this Jesus? And do your answers actually fit with your basic notions of God, Christianity, and living the Christian life?

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Funny Worship Satire

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

Sunday Sermon - Too Bad About All Those Other Folks

Musings on the Daily Lectionary - In or Out

I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking a lot lately about the traditional, conventional faith claims of the Church. Of perhaps I've been thinking about the stereotypes of those faith claims. I'm not really sure. Regardless, today's verses from Matthew prompted more thinking of this sort.

A centurion walks up to Jesus and asks him to cure a paralyzed servant. Presumably this centurion is Roman, not Jewish. He likely offers sacrifices at temples to various Roman gods. I can't know for sure because Jesus doesn't ask him for his religious credentials. He just says, "Sure, I'll heal him." Only after that do we see the faith of the centurion who is happy with a long distance healing. No need for any Ernest Angley dramatics.

Then Jesus speaks of people from all over entering the kingdom while "heirs" get left out. Heirs here seems to mean the Jews, and their presumptions about being God's people. But many modern Christians could think they have supplanted the Jews and so could fill that role today.

It seems to me that just about the only time Jesus gets mad at anyone and speaks of them being left out, he is talking to folks who presume they are already in. Jesus never seems to speak as some Christians do, warning outsiders that they had better sign up, better plug into the formula, or they're in trouble.

I think my pondering, in the end, goes to the nature of God. A great deal of Christian thought seems to picture a God who is bound by some sort of formula, who has to punish somebody. Thank goodness Jesus jumps in and takes the bullet. But if Jesus is the fullest revelation of God, it's hard for me to picture a God with the sword drawn or the gun cocked.

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Sunday Sermon - Too Bad About All Those Other Folks

Too Bad about All Those Other Folks - May 16 sermon.mp3

John 17:20-26

Too Bad about All Those Other Folks

James Sledge -- May 16, 2010

When I was in seminary, I loved studying theology and always thought it odd that some of my classmates disliked it. One of the favorite images I picked up in seminary is that of theology or church tradition as spectacles, lenses through which we read and understand God’s revelation to us in Jesus and in Scripture. We never hear Jesus speak or read a passage of Scripture without some sort of interpretive lenses, without some sort of glasses on.

However, when we get accustomed to glasses or contacts, we can forget we have them on. We don’t think of what we see as being changed or corrected before we see it. We simply see what we see. A similar sort of thing happens with the lenses of theology and tradition. We don’t realize that we see what we see filtered and refracted by our lenses.

I saw this some years ago during an officer training class that I was leading. People elected as elders or deacons are required to receive training in our Reformed theology because as part of their ordination, they promise to be guided by that theology, to use those lenses, to help them understand what it means to be a faithful church. And as the class was discussing our theology, one of those officers-to-be said, “Why can’t we just be Christians? Why can’t we just all read our Bible and do what we find there?”

That’s legitimate and important question. And I suspect that similar questions lay behind the distaste some of my seminary classmates had for theology. Trouble is, the question itself is wearing glasses. The notion that individual Christians should read the Bible for themselves and act on what they find there is in fact a theological position, a set of lenses that some Christians, but not all, wear as they seek to follow Jesus.

As laudable as it is to desire some pristine Christianity not complicated by layers of theology, that’s pretty much impossible. We all carry around with us lenses that have been shaped by our culture, by our experiences in the church, by our place in history, and so on. But these lenses are so much a part of us, they are often more like lens implants than glasses. They are always there, we can’t take them out, and they have simply become a part of us. But what if they are distorting rather than focusing our vision? What if what we think we see is not what is really there at all?

I recently been reading a wonderful new book by Brian McLaren entitled A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions that Are Transforming the Faith. The first of those questions is, “What is the overarching story line of the Bible?” And McLaren’s answer suggests that we have seen this story through bad lenses. We not only look back at Jesus, and the Old Testament story from which he emerges, through the accumulated theologies of our church, Calvin, Luther, Aquinus, Augustine, and even the Apostle Paul, but, as part of Western culture, we also see Jesus and his Jewish story through the lens of Greek philosophy, most of us without ever realizing it.

Now I have a feeling very few of you are interested in hearing about Neo-Platonism or its tension with Aristotle, so I won’t go into that. (I’ll be happy to discuss it with you later if you’re one of the few who are interested.) Suffice to say that this Greco-Roman notion of perfection as static, disembodied and spiritual, compared to the messy, decaying, infinitely inferior physical experience of bodies, trees and, such, has profoundly impacted how we see and understand Jesus, humanity, and the kingdom Jesus says he is bringing.

In the worst distortions, our Greek, philosophical lenses produce a Christianity with little use for bodies, for creation, for procreation, or any of the messiness of life. Such Christians are stuck here on earth until they are freed by death for that more genuine, better life that is not physical. And even in its more nuanced forms, this distortion often perceives a God who can scarcely put up with the world and its human inhabitants. God simply can’t abide how bad things are down here, and sooner or later cannot avoid wiping the whole mess out. But if you play your cards right and believe the right things, God will rescue you from this sordid existence into something better. Too bad about all those other folks.

McLaren argues that such pictures of Christianity and God can be found in the Bible only if you view it through bad lenses, and I’m inclined to agree with him. And these bad lenses are often used to view the Jesus found our gospel for today. There is Jesus, praying for his followers, and also for all who will believe through them. There is Jesus praying for the Church, for us, asking that we may all be one, that he may be in us and us in God, a mystical community bound together by God’s love. But then there’s that bad old world that doesn’t know God, doesn’t recognize Jesus. Too bad about all those folks.

In John, “the world” isn’t really a place. It’s a term he uses to speak of all that stands in opposition to God’s work in Jesus. It’s a slippery term with no simple, one-to-one correspondence. It’s not the culture, or the government, or the pagans, or the Jews. But the oppressive forces of the Roman Empire are certainly part of the world. As are religious institutions so bent on self preservation that they see Jesus as a threat are. And by the way, modern day churches sometimes fall into that group.

Those who are part of this world don’t “know” Jesus; that is they don’t recognize God present in him and so they don’t know God. But Jesus says those who have heard his voice, have recognized it and followed him, do know. And Jesus prays for those folks, which presumably includes us. Jesus prays that we will be part of that mystical communion he enjoys with the Father. “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us… I in them and you in me…”

How wonderful that Jesus wants to dwell in us, to give us the sort of intimacy with the Father that he enjoys. How comforting to know that this is the very last thing he does prior to his arrest and the cross. He holds us in the embrace of his prayer, of his longing for us. Too bad about all those other folks.

Except that Jesus comes precisely because God loves all those other folks. For God so loved the world… In other words, God so loved all those folks who don’t recognize Jesus, whether the oppressive forces of empire or the well intended but misguided, self serving operators of religious institutions. Those other folks are the very reason for Jesus.

So why does Jesus cradle us in his heartfelt prayer? To strengthen and encourage us so that we might show the world, might show those folks, how much God loves them.

We live in a time in which the church many of us grew up with is passing away. No matter how much we may long for it, no matter how meaningful it was for us, it is slipping into the mists of the past. That’s actually nothing unusual, and not all that troubling. Various forms of church have appeared and disappeared since the faith was born. Even in our own little denomination, the church of my youth bore little resemblance to the Presbyterian Church of a hundred years previous.

But for some reason, maybe because of today’s rapid pace of change or an increasingly secular culture, or maybe because of the move from a modern to a post modern world, many church people seem to be looking backward more than forward. We huddle in our little enclaves, wondering where all the people went. In a lot of congregations there is a terrible fear of decline, and even of death. And even in congregations like this one, many long for the old days of overflow crowds and monster confirmation classes. And when I talk to them, some seem sure that the best days are back there. But we’ll hang on. We’ll keep doing what we do. Too bad about all those other folks.

Except those are the ones God loves. And Jesus holds us in his prayers; Jesus promises to dwell in us so that those other folks will see God at work in us, so that they will see God’s love take on flesh. Jesus says that he will be in us so that our love and unity will show God in Christ to all those other folks. And if Jesus is truly in us, is there any doubt that we can do whatever Jesus calls us to do?

Musings on the Daily Lectionary - Being Human

As I was reading today's verses from Hebrews, I found myself wondering about what it means to be human. This question has provided fertile ground for philosophers, theologians, and thinkers of all sorts for eons. "I think, therefore I am," said Descartes. The following was scribbled on the bathroom wall of my college dorm. "To do is to be - Socrates, To be is to do - Kant, Do be do be do - Sinatra"

Sometimes we ask a child, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" And sometimes we ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up? Perhaps these are simply different ways of asking the same thing. But perhaps not.

I've always been somewhat surprised at how seldom I hear Christians make reference to Jesus when answering the question of what it means to be human. Despite the popularity of WWJD bracelets and wristbands, despite the Apostle Paul speaking of Jesus as the "new Adam," that is the new model for humanity, I don't hear many Christians going to Jesus as the perfect, embodied answer to, "What does it mean to be human?"

In the gospel of John, Jesus speaks of coming that we might "have life, and have it abundantly." I can't help but think that this abundant life Jesus offers is about being human in the fullest sense of term. And given the shape of Jesus' life, I have to think that he defines abundant life a bit differently that many of us tend to do.

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Sunday Sermon - "If You Love Me..."