Monday, May 11, 2015

Easter 6B -- May 10, 2015

Best Friends

Mark Shannon -- Guest Preacher



John 15:9-17
As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.

            The Bible is an amazing book.  When we read a novel or work of nonfiction, the events in that volume are typically confined to a specific time and place and relevant to a few pertinent characters or subjects.  But the Bible is unique in that even though the words of a text may apply to a narrative story in Scripture, or even directed to certain individuals in an epistle, the Holy Spirit’s words reach across the generations and speak to our own hearts and minds and engage us in the story of God’s plan for the world.

            So it is in today’s text from John.  In these verses Jesus is speaking to his disciples, those twelve men He has chosen to teach and to witness the events of His life and death.  For these are the people that have to carry on in His place after Easter and His subsequent ascension forty days later.

            Yet even though these words of our Lord were spoken shortly before His arrest and crucifixion to a group of confused and bleary-eyed followers more than two thousand years ago, I do not think any theologian would disagree that the words in this text can equally be said to be addressed to Christians and those who will become believers around the world today.  Such is the power of Scripture that the words Jesus spoke to His disciples can inspire and inform our walk with Him this morning.

            So what is Jesus saying to us in this passage?

            One thing He is saying is “Congratulations!”  Other spiritual leaders and worldly teachers regard their followers as servants.  In exchange for lessons that impart one person’s idea of the truth and how to live one’s life these leaders and teachers put themselves in positions of authority over their listeners and consign them to lower-class status.

            But Jesus will have none of that.  Instead of servants, He has declared us to be His friends.  He has elevated us—and not demeaned us—by sharing with us all that we need to know about Him and what He wants us to do in His strength.  We are not mindless servants who blindly obey without understanding.  We are friends of the Son of God and not because we claim to be but because He has announced that we are His friends.  So again “Congratulations! And rejoice!”

            Did you know that today the word “friend” is a verb?  On sites like Facebook you can approach someone online and ask them to “friend” you.  Then they can decide whether to include you on their list of followers or not.  And by the same token, you can be unfriended-another new verb, if you fall out of favor with that individual.  Well, here’s some more good news.  Once you become the friend of Jesus, and He becomes your friend through your acceptance of His saving work on the cross, He doesn’t have a button that He can push that renders you “unfriended”.  His promise of friendship is an ironclad guarantee that He will never desert you or turn away from you as long as you draw breath in this world.  And I know what you might be thinking.  What about after you die?  Fear not, the hand he extends in friendship will be the hand you see in Heaven, pitted with a hole where the nail to the cross has been pounded through it.  This promise of friendship includes an eternal lifetime guarantee.

            And the wonderful thing about this guarantee is that it is now in effect.  It is not just reserved for our Heavenly home.  Through His resurrection power Jesus is alive today.  It is He who lives in us and through us.  And only because He is alive in us are we able to carry out His commands. 

            So what does it mean to be a friend of Jesus?  It all sounds well and good….as long as I don’t  have to go share my faith with that guy that leaves his cigarette butts outside the back door of the apartment building.  And don’t count on me to be a friend in deed if it means I have to go someplace wet and hot with big hairy spiders coming at me with poison in their fangs.  Friendship with Jesus will probably cost us something—won’t it?  It’s not like hanging out with the neighbors over a cup of coffee and catching up with their family and comparing notes on who got kicked off “Dancing with the Stars”.  Is it?

            What does the Bible say about friendship?

            Right off the bat the verses that came to my mind are from the book of Proverbs.  There we read that a friend loveth at all times and that there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.  Sometimes we make the mistake of putting ourselves in place of the word “friend” in these verses.  Who among us can measure up when it comes to loving the other person at all times or being closer than a blood relative to someone else?

            Take heart friends.  It makes much more sense to say that Jesus Himself is the Friend that loveth at all times and it is indeed He who sticks closer than any relative.  Sometimes in the Old Testament we catch glimpses of the Savior before His incarnation—and so it is in these verses, I believe.

            So don’t be afraid to be considered one of Jesus’ friends.  You’ve heard it said in this church from many different people down through the years.  Jesus won’t send you somewhere that He hasn’t equipped you to go.  He will accompany you whether it is across the street or around the world.  And another adage that’s become familiar to members of this congregation is that Jesus hasn’t taken us all this way so far just to drop us abandoned and alone somewhere totally unfamiliar to us.  Make no mistake, Jesus doesn’t promise us that the path will be an easy one and that the journey will be pleasant all the time.  But His companionship means that He will walk along side you, surrounding you on every side, helping us to accomplish what He has for us to do.  I don’t want to jump the gun on next week’s message but as if the very Presence of Jesus with us was not enough, He also plants within us the Holy Spirit to remind us of the Word and the promises made in those pages.  There is no way He will abandon us to the world or take His Holy Spirit from our lives.  He is indeed a friend that is “stuck” with us.

            Now what about that line in today’s text that says:  “You are my friends if you do what I command”?  That sentence has always bothered me somewhat.  Those words sure sound like something a bully in the schoolyard would say.  “If you give me your lunch money I won’t beat you up…I’ll even say you’re a pal.”  Is this what Jesus is talking about?  What kind of friendship is that?

 I read the text again a few times.  What could that sentence mean?  What does Jesus command us to do?  Suddenly a light bulb gleamed just like in the comics.  The last verse of today’s text, verse 17, says it plainly.  “This is my command:  Love one another.” Could it be that simple?  By the same token Jesus couldn’t have said words much more difficult to obey.

            A couple of weeks ago Mitzi and I were talking about the words found in verse 13.  “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”  What prompted our discussion was something Susan said in her sermon.  She said that if her kids were awakened in the night by someone holding a gun to their heads and asking them if they were Christians or not, she hoped that they both would answer with a question:  “Which answer is going to keep me alive?”  So in our discussion we wondered if denying that we were Christians in order to stay alive meant that Jesus would deny us to His Father in heaven.  Because elsewhere in Scripture that is just what He does say.  We talked about stories we’ve heard about. In times of warfare one man throws himself on a live grenade in order to save his fellow soldiers—even if he knows he’s going to die.  We call those people that do commit such acts heroes and we know that they are the exception—not the rule.  Even in peacetime there are stories in the news about somebody jumping in front of a speeding subway car to rescue somebody else who has fallen onto the tracks.  They are just as much heroes as the sacrificial soldier.  One conclusion I made during our talk was that even if we fail to confess the truth about our faith in the event that someone’s holding a gun to our head, we don’t need to fear that we have denied Christ.  To be honest, if we think about it, we deny Jesus all the time.  When was the last time you reprimanded somebody for saying “Oh my God” by telling that person:  “Hey, watch your language that’s my Lord you’re talking about”?  When we fail to say grace at mealtimes, aren’t we failing to acknowledge that God is the one who provided the food and the money to purchase it?  Jesus won’t abandon us for failing to acknowledge Him to other people in circumstances like these.  Thanks be to God for that.

            Once again, I believe that Jesus is telling His disciples in this passage that the greatest example of love for one’s friends, laying down one’s life for them, is a foreshadow of what He is about to do on the cross for them—and for us as well.  He is giving them an example to aspire to, and a foretaste of what is about to happen.  You’ve heard it said that Jesus is the Pioneer and Perfector of our faith.  His life is recorded for us to learn from, not to duplicate.  We can never come close to doing the things He calls us to do with any degree of perfection.  This is because no matter our intentions, our motives are so beset with sin that the end result falls far short of perfection.  But His life is meant for us to be a model of how to live, a measuring rod to aim for, full in the knowledge that we can never equal much less surpass His accomplishments.

            If you think about it, in one respect the Lord’s command to love each other isn’t SO terribly difficult.  After all, it’s somewhat easier to love our friends, isn’t it?  Those people we’ve come to know over time get something of a pass when it comes to the things about them that would make strangers unappealing to us. It’s easy to overlook a character flaw or a sharp retort when we consider the time spent together with friends.

            Remember, it is only because Jesus is alive and living in us that we are able to carry out His command to love one another.  He loves people through us—it is not by our own doing.  We are completely reliant on Him to accomplish this.  What an amazing idea.  Jesus gives us a command and then only by His power can we carry it out.

            Throughout my life I’ve enjoyed knowing a number of friends.  Some of them I got to know through childhood activities.  Others were introduced to me through work experiences, and many of them worship here in this congregation I’m happy to say.

            One of my friends was a paratrooper in the Army.  Another friend thought that the best way to spend a vacation was to take two weeks and travel to Churchill, a little town in Canada where polar bears roam wild every year around Halloween.  And another friend was nominated for an Academy Award for her role as a blind woman in the movie “A Patch of Blue”.    All of these people and others besides them have a special place in my memory.

            But friends have a way of leaving us, don’t they?  They move away or get married and have kids.  And they also leave us by their death.

            Studies show that one of the keys to a healthy and long life is the quality of our social contacts.  If we have at least a few close ties to other people as we grow older, we will be more likely to enjoy good mental and physical health.  It is a concern of some scientists that men have a harder time cultivating close ties with other people in their senior years.  Men who haven’t bonded with teammates in sports activities when they were younger are at somewhat of a disadvantage, I think.  There is a lot to be said for the tight-knit relationships that athletes form in team sports.  These ties often are points of reference for reminiscing and for assessing the skills of the current crop of players.

            So I challenge myself, and I also challenge you, to keep making new friends at each stage of your lives.  Today’s text says we are called by the Lord to bear good fruit that lasts for the Kingdom.  If we are content to stop exploring the possibility of making new friends we may well be cutting ourselves off from what Christ is calling us to do. 

            Where do we find potential friends?  Look around you as you leave the sanctuary today.  There are infinite possibilities to explore.  You may literally run into your next new friend at the grocery store or that person may be the parent of one of your children’s classmates.  And if it’s a romantic relationship you are pursuing, try making a date with a real- life Christian matchmaker.  It worked for me and my wife.  This is definitely an area where prayer would be beneficial.  Praying to meet a new friend seems like just the kind of prayer that God enjoys answering.

            The real challenge in following Jesus’ command is to love those people that are difficult to love.  Sometimes we are thrust together with people we would cross the street to avoid.  What do we do then?

            Once again it is good to consider Scripture.  Jesus says “Apart from Me you can do nothing.  Because He lives and is alive in us we can carry out this command.  Years ago the author Corrie Ten Boom, a survivor of the Holocaust, happened to see a guard she recognized in the hospital where she was visiting a friend.  As I recall, the man was very ill.  Despite all that he had done to her and the other Jewish prisoners in the camp, she felt a strong urge to say a word of forgiveness.  She noted in her account of the incident that she didn’t want to offer this man forgiveness.  But she did so knowing that it was only Christ that enabled her to say anything to him.  In her own strength she was paralyzed and kept from speech.  But Jesus worked through her and accomplished a great work in the process.

            It’s always a good idea to find common ground.  Shared interests and opinions can go a long way  toward overlooking those things that we find unappealing in another person.  It’s also wise to try to determine if the people you inwardly shy away from belong to Christ.  If that is the case then a world of common experiences and points of reference open up before you.  Through conversations with strangers who are Christians, we develop a keener awareness of how Jesus is at work in the world and what He has been doing in the lives of others.  Those kinds of conversations can form a strong basis for friendship.

            Notice that in today’s text the disciples have no idea what awaits them in the next few hours and days.  Despite some pretty explicit descriptions they fail to realize that very soon their friend Jesus will be taken away from them and put to death.  By the same token they also have almost no conception of His coming resurrection.

            We don’t know what will happen to our church in the days ahead.  We have some ideas and some strong indications about how things might proceed.  But we have something the disciples didn’t have during their final lessons with Jesus.  We have the assurance that no matter what happens the Triune God will be up to His elbows in the midst of events with us every moment along the way.  The building may crumble and the hymnals may fall apart and be forgotten.  But Jesus will abide.


            And finally what better way to end this sermon—and maybe every sermon—than to repeat the Lord’s command.  Friends:  love one another.

Florence Taylor Memorial Service -- May 9, 2015

Satisfied




Psalm 103:1-5

 Bless the Lord, O my soul,

   and all that is within me,
   bless his holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
   and do not forget all his benefits—
who forgives all your iniquity,
   who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the Pit,
   who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good as long as you live*
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.


We’re here together today because Florence’s time to die had come.  We’ve lost someone we loved, loved a lot, for a very long time.  So we cry.  We grieve.  We embrace one another.  That is what we do when someone we love dies. 

But it’s not all about grief and sadness today.  Florence lived to a good old age.  She hit that sweet spot I think all of us would choose if we were able to write our own ending.  She did not die too soon and miss out on too much of life’s sweetness.  She did not live too long; despite her physical limitations, Florence had amazing light and life within her.  She looked forward to each day with joy.  Even her physical therapists were amazed at her sunny outlook and energy and stubborn determination to keep living as well as she could.   And, thanks be to God, her death was not drawn out.  Her last days were spent peacefully, without pain, surrounded by her children and her grandchildren.  Everyone got to say goodbye.  For that, I know Florence’s family is truly grateful. 

It’s not all about grief and sadness today because it is also a time to keep and laugh over all of the good memories we have of Florence.  For me, I will never forget the way her face lit up when Tom and I went to visit her.  She was always ready with cookies and candy and a good story about her grandchildren in whom she took so much delight and pride.  And I was so grateful for her prayers and her encouragement and the way she always made a point to ask me about my family, particularly my son whom she saw only once a year when we came at Christmas time to sing carols for her.  She was one of the folks that I would say formed me as a pastor in a very real way.  I am sad that I’ll no longer be able to sit and chat and laugh and pray with her in her cozy living room.  But I am happy that she’s completely safe now in the arms of Jesus. 

It’s not all about grief and sadness today because days like this provide a time for peace and love.  It’s a day to reacquaint ourselves with folks from whom we may have drifted away and touch base with one another as family and friends connected by this incredible lady we have come to celebrate.

So here we are.  As the great mystic Julian of Norwich put it, we are feeling a “marvelous mixture of well-being and woe.”  Life is sort of always like that, but days like today make that more apparent. 

Florence did not miss out on life’s good stuff, but she didn’t miss out on life’s bad stuff either.  Nobody gets through life without a certain level of sorrow and disappointment. But what we most certainly know about Florence is that her deep faith sustained her.  She faced many challenges, yet emerged from those challenges renewed thanks to her reliance on God’s goodness and mercy and blessing.  

It is not surprising that one of Florence’s favorite scripture texts was from the Psalm you just heard read.  Psalm 103:

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
   and do not forget all his benefits—
   who forgives all your iniquity,
   who heals all your diseases,
   who redeems your life from the Pit,
  who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
   who satisfies you with good as long as you live
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

 If I could think of a word to describe Florence it would be, “satisfied.” “Satisfied” is a funny word, isn’t it?  It’s probably a word many of us would want to avoid as a description of ourselves.  In fact, many of the people I know are never satisfied – they want more.  Better jobs.  More money.  More love.  A slimmer waistline.  A bigger car.   It seems in our modern understanding, being “satisfied” has become equated with settling for something less than we deserve. We don’t normally celebrate “satisfied” people.  We tend to lift up those who are strivers.

But in Biblical terms, being satisfied as the psalmist describes it means being deeply grateful.  Satisfied means being overwhelmed by the overflowing goodness of God.  Satisfied mean remembering all the good things God gives to us and trusting in God’s love and mercy.  Satisfied is a deep sense of thankfulness for all that is good in our lives.  And so much of Florence’s life was good because she chose to see life as sheer gift.  She lived from a position of great gratitude. 

When I arrived at the church a few years ago, I was astonished to meet the half dozen or so women who defied all of my pre-conceived notions of what a "little old lady" should act and look like. I have been trying to figure out how it is these women who live well into their 90’s manage to be so incredibly awesome.  I have learned so much from them.

Here’s a couple of things I’ve observed about Florence and all of the so-called "little old ladies" of this congregation…

They do not hold back from loving deeply.  Several of them have loved and lost, and some of those losses have been incredibly painful.  But they go on loving anyway.  Nancy told me that Florence said she’d gone through at least four sets of friends in her long lifetime.  When you live to be 95, I guess that’s inevitable.  Some of the friends died.  Some moved away.  But loss of people dear to her didn’t stop Florence from reaching out to new people, make new friends, and love them just as dearly. 

Second, they keep their priorities straight.  And for all of these long-lived women, their first priority is family.  They keep their focus on the people God entrusted to their care.  Florence loved her children and grandchildren, fiercely.  And those children and grandchildren responded to that love by flourishing in the way well-loved people usually do flourish.  And best of all, those children and grandchildren have grown up to become loving people themselves. 

Lastly, these are all women who are deeply faithful and thankful.  They are SATISFIED people, in the best sense of the word.  Florence knew who she was, and to whom she belonged, in life and in death.  When she was frightened, she trusted Jesus to keep her strong.  When she was sick, she trusted Jesus to be with her in her pain.  When she was with the people she loved, her youth was renewed like an eagle again and again by the Lord she loved deeply. 

Any questions that Florence might have had about life and about death have been answered for her.  She has entered into eternal life with her Savior. And when she met Jesus face to face, I have no doubt that his face lit up.  Florence had that in common with Jesus, I think.  His face lights up when he is with the people he loves.

The rest of us still living have plenty of questions still about life and death, love and loss.   We’re not satisfied.  We know we have work to do.

But we can live lives in the manner that Jesus taught us, and that Florence did her best to follow in this life:

To love deeply and unconditionally.
To love the people God has put in front of us, and all around us.  Our family, neighbors and friends.

To love God, trusting that God’s provision is certain and secure.  We can live satisfied lives, knowing we are God’s children.  And nothing can ever separate us from the love of God made known to us in Christ Jesus.

When I think of Florence, I am reminded of the lyrics of the old Shaker hymn:

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come 'round right.

'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
'Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of "me",
And when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then we'll all live together with a love that is real.




Sunday, May 3, 2015

Easter 5B -- May 3, 2015

Not One Good Reason


Sharing a meal with our PCUSA mission co-workers in Juba, South Sudan

NOTE: Sermons are aural events; they are meant to be heard, not read. The text below -- which was not delivered exactly as written -- may include errors not limited to spelling, grammar and punctuation of which the listener might be unaware and with which the preacher is unconcerned. 
Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this: “Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.” The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. As they were going along the road, they came to some water; and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. But Philip found himself at Azotus, and as he was passing through the region, he proclaimed the good news to all the towns until he came to Caesarea.


Maybe you remember about 5 or 6 years ago, when an organization called, “City Reachers,” raised over $600,000 to print and distribute 250,000 copies of the New Testament to subscribers of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.  Do you remember that?  Copies of the full color, glossy New Testament with scenes of Pittsburgh on the cover was given out to pretty much everyone in the Pittsburgh region. 

I remember at the time being vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that the organizers chose to only distribute the New Testament, effectively leaving out half of the Bible.  I also wondered how effective it is to merely put a Bible into someone’s hands without a community of faith attached to it. 

In our story from the book of Acts today, someone has gotten Scripture into the hands of the Ethiopian eunuch.  The text tells us the man had gone to Jerusalem to worship.  And we can safely assume that his attempt to worship had probably not gone especially well.  The text doesn’t say it, but we know from the book of Deuteronomy (23:1) that a eunuch would most likely have been barred from entering the synagogue due to Jewish purity codes.  And as a Gentile, he would probably not have gotten beyond the court of the Gentiles.[1] 

But despite all that would have prevented him from worshipping in the synagogue, this outsider is reading a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. 

The eunuch is probably a tad confused.  On the one hand, he just experienced outright rejection from the gatekeepers of religion, who considered him an impure and unacceptable outsider.  On the other hand he probably keeps running into verses like this in the prophet Isaiah:

On that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant that is left of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from Ethiopia,* from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands of the sea (Is. 11:11)

Or this one:

For thus says the Lord:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
   who choose the things that please me
   and hold fast my covenant,
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
   a monument and a name
   better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
   that shall not be cut off.  (Is. 56:4-5)

What he reads in Isaiah doesn’t quite line up with what the eunuch experienced in Jerusalem.  So what is going on?  Is the eunuch invited to God’s party or not?  Is he in or out of God’s household?  With only the words on a page to guide the eunuch, it’s impossible to know.  Is what he’s reading only about Isaiah and his situation?  Or does Isaiah have something to say to the eunuch as well?

People spend a lot of time debating what is the “authority” of Scripture.  But it seems that Luke, the writer of Acts, is less interested in the literal authority of Scripture and more interested in the authority of those who interpret and read Scripture in light of the good news of Jesus.  Like all of those people in Pittsburgh who received a New Testament with their Sunday paper, the eunuch has got a Bible.  He also has life experiences. What he needs is someone to read the Bible with him, engage him exactly where he is, and help him to see how God is present and active in his life.

In this case, that encounter is not going to happen in a synagogue or a church or any other divine place.  It’s going to happen out in the middle of nowhere.  On a wilderness road.  The Holy Spirit is about to blow and what happens next is amazing. 

As many of you know, I grew up in the church and spend my entire childhood deeply involved in all sorts of church-y stuff.  I went to Sunday school, youth group, sang in the choir, went to three different vacation bible schools every summer, and played on the church basketball team.  By any measure, I was a well-churched child.

But here’s the truth.  I didn’t know much about the Bible.  I think, like the eunuch, I wanted to know more about God, I wanted to understand Scripture, but I couldn’t find the key to making it relevant beyond a rule book of do’s and don’ts and how to be a good girl.  I had the book in my hand, and I could read all the words, but none of it shaped my heart or my mind or anything in my life.  And once I went to college, I left my Bible on a bookcase in my old room with my basketball trophies. 

It wasn’t until much later that the Bible began to open up to me in a real way.  I came to love Scripture because I love literature; as a passionate reader, I was slowly drawn back to Scripture because so many of my favorite authors framed their stories by referencing Bible stories.  It was in conversation with those authors that I began a life-changing relationship with Scripture.  The Holy Spirit was at work, I have no doubt.   Soon, my curiosity about these stories led me to a weekly lectionary study group.  There I encountered a really wonderful teaching elder and a group of people as curious as I was about what was up with this Bible that most of us had heard about all our lives but still understood so little. 

At some point, I said to myself, with great fear and trembling, “What’s to prevent me from going to seminary and maybe, maybe spending the rest of my life living into and talking about and thinking about these stories?”  Eventually, I couldn’t keep that question inside my own head anymore and I began asking it out loud. And it was that little group of fellow travelers and my trusted teacher in that lectionary study group who said, “Why there’s no reason at all you shouldn’t go to seminary.” No good reason at all. 

In our text today, Philip has been sent away from the action in Jerusalem and out to a wilderness road.  We shouldn’t be too surprised that all of this action happens out in the middle of nowhere, because that seems to be where the Holy Spirit does most of its best work in most of the Bible stories. 

And as Philip is traveling on this wilderness road, he runs into the eunuch who is reading scripture and, as was the custom back then, he’s probably reading it out loud.  There would be no reason on earth for Philip to approach this man of an entirely different race and ethnic group.  Philip is a second string player for an upstart religious movement, and the eunuch is a royal court official riding in a really nice chariot.  Yet the Holy Spirit sees the possibilities.  What might happen if two very different men of very different backgrounds  have a conversation?  So the Holy Spirit sends Philip over to the chariot. 

“Do you understand what you’re reading?” says Philip.
 “How can I, unless someone guides me?” says the eunuch.

And although we are not told all of the details of the conversation that occurs between Philip and the eunuch, we can tell that something important happens in that chariot.  That in the conversation of the two men, side by side, reading the text together, the eunuch learns that God’s story of redemption, resurrection and love was not just a story for the religious folks back in Jerusalem.  Through his conversation with Philip the eunuch began to another possibility.  He reads the text of Isaiah with Philip and sees the connection between himself and Jesus.  This outsider to the temple discovers that the story of the suffering servant who was rejected, despised and humiliated is his story as well.  The words on the scroll came to life in a way the eunuch could not have discovered all by himself.  He needs Philip to help him see that God’s story is his story as well.

But I am pretty sure something also happens to Philip in the conversation.  New Testament scholar Mitzi Smith notes that in the book of Acts, the Holy Spirit continually brings the new church into contact with unlikely people.  Philip was snatched up by the Holy Spirit doing as it pleases and not boxed in by human expectations or limitations.[2]  And soon, Philip finds himself bending and moving with the Holy Spirit in ways he wouldn’t have imagined before his encounter with the eunuch.

“What is to prevent me from being baptized?” says the eunuch, eager to enter into a new life and new understanding.  Philip could probably have come up with at least three good reasons to not baptize the eunuch – Gentile, foreigner, impure.  Philip could have used any one of these reasons to exclude the eunuch from the household of God.

But in the end, the Holy Spirit drives both men into the water.  Because as far as Philip could tell, the good news of Jesus meant he had no good reason at all to not baptize the eunuch.

Before the two men studied the words of Isaiah together, the text was a bunch of words on a page.  But the words come to life as the two men leap into the baptismal pool.  A joyful, crazy, unlikely but entirely splashy and visible sign of an always present, always active, often quiet and invisible grace.

So we can send all the Bibles into the world – into hotel rooms and on front porches and over vast oceans.  We can drown the world in Bibles, stacked on top of one another, circling the globe. Again and again. 

But until we send our bodies into the world and climb into unfamiliar chariots and encounter the story of God’s grace for ourselves, the Word of God stays dusty and dry, ink on a page, signifying nothing. 

We can read the Bible night and day, safe in our churches and our living rooms.  We can quote scripture chapter and verse.

But until we send our bodies into the world, none of our personal piety will make one bit of difference in another person’s life or in our own.  Our understanding of God will stay very, very small.  The Word of God will remain locked in a small box, tucked up on a shelf, gathering dust while eunuchs and inner city kids and frightened police officers wonder it is that God seems so far away from them. 

For too long, the church has been locked up, unavailable for comment, and primarily concerned for its own purity and safety and image.  Too afraid to change its mind and scared to death of being sullied by the muck of everyday life.  But if we look at Jesus, we know that’s not the path we’ve been called to follow.

How many chariots do we walk by, every day, preferring the safety of our own space?  How can we learn to tell the difference between an accidental encounter with a stranger and a holy opportunity created by the winsome and wildly unpredictable Holy Spirit? 

How many opportunities do we miss everyday to have our understanding of God enlivened by the dozens and dozens of Philips that God sends to us.  How often do we prefer to hold on to our own understanding of how God works instead of allowing someone else to tell us how they see God at work in us? 

I had the deep privilege of meeting the head of PCUSA World Missions this week.  Rev. Hunter Farrell was in Pittsburgh on Monday and Tuesday, fresh from a meeting in Louisville in which it was announced that World Mission will have a funding gap of a little less that $1 million dollars in 2016, which means we will lose nine mission co-workers.  In 2017, the gap will be $4.5 million dollars, which will result in the loss of 40 missionaries.  Right now we only have 165 mission co-workers.  Only 165 people to cover the entire globe.

What is at work in the PCUSA, I think, is not a literal poverty, but a poverty of spirit.  If we prioritize our own buildings, our own property, our own theologies, our own way of being in the world, and do not fund the sending of missionaries equipped to help heal a world in deep need, then why are we here?  Why does the church – any church – exist at all?

Because there are days in which I do not have the good sense to keep my mouth shut, I told Hunter and others gathered at the meeting that the PCUSA does not have a money problem despite all evidence to the contrary.  We have a spiritual problem.  A enormous spiritual problem.  We give lip service to resurrection and the power of the Holy Spirit when the truth is we are too worried about our own survival.  We are too freaked out by our convictions about who is pure and who is not and what heresy someone is committing to see our own heresy in not doing what Jesus told us to do. 

I believe the North American church will only be saved by relationships with people who are not like us, just as Philip and the eunuch were saved by one another.  We write off the need for mission in our cities and in the world at our own peril.

If we keep going as we’re going, we will indeed lose the message of the Gospel entirely and be nothing more than a nice group of people in a rapidly shrinking social club who will not be missed by anyone when we finally disappear for good. 

Like I said.  There are days when I cannot keep my mouth shut.

The prophet Isaiah says, “On that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant that is left of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from Ethiopia,* from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands of the sea.”(Is. 11:11) 

From Assyria to Egypt to Pathros.  From Emsworth to Homewood to Baltimore to South Sudan to Nepal.  What in the world are we doing here this morning, brothers and sister?  What in the world are we doing? 

If the church can’t answer the question, I can’t think of a reason for us to be here.  Not one good reason. 

But maybe we’ll begin to find an answer at this table.  Because that’s where the Living Lord, Jesus Christ, meets us.  In our unknowing.  In our confusion.  In our sorrow.  In our fear.  And Jesus greets us joyfully, knowing us fully, and loving us deeply. 

“The new reality the whole church faces is difficult.  But we are Easter people, and just like Jesus’ disciples after the resurrection, there was doubt, there was fear, there was a struggle as to what should be done next.  But through it all, it was the power and presence of the Spirit of the risen Christ which gave them hope to be witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the outmost parts of the world.”[3]

May it be so for us.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.



































[1] Paul Walaskay, Feasting on the Word, page 457
[2] Mitzi Smith, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1235
[3] Statement from former General Assembly moderators on funding crisis of mission co-workers. “Presbyterian Outlook” April 28, 2015.  http://pres-outlook.org/2015/04/statement-from-former-general-assembly-moderators-on-funding-crisis-of-mission-co-workers/

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Easter 4B -- April 26, 2015

Truth and Action


NOTE: Sermons are aural events; they are meant to be heard, not read. The text below -- which was not delivered exactly as written -- may include errors not limited to spelling, grammar and punctuation of which the listener might be unaware and with which the preacher is unconcerned.  In today's sermon, the preacher also mistakenly referred to Garissa University College as located in Ethiopia.  The school, which suffered such a tragic loss of life in early April,  is located in Kenya.  The text below has been corrected.


1 John 3:16-24
We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

 Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.

And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him. And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us.

All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.


What do you think of when you hear that command to lay down our lives?  I tell you what I think.  You may think something very different, but here’s how I respond…

My first response is to remember the martyred Christians who died for their faith, from the very earliest Christian martyrs like Peter and Paul, people like Joan of Arc or Sir Thomas More, to the more recent examples like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Archbishop Oscar Romero.  And of course, so many Christians in the Middle East and Africa who are being killed on account of their faith.  Those are the first people I think of when I hear John saying, “we ought to lay down our lives for one another.”

My second response to the command to “lay down my life,” is to get up from my desk and go take a nap.  Because, God knows, I am not a martyr.  No getting around it. Not even close.  In fact, I’m pretty much the closest thing there is to being an anti-martyr.  There’s a line from an old Woody Allen movie, “Annie Hall,” in which Annie wonders out loud how she’d stand up under torture.  And Woody Allen says, “Are you kidding?  If the Gestapo threatened to take away your Bloomingdale’s charge card, you’d tell them everything.”  

A few weeks ago, there was a terrorist attack in Kenya at the Garissa University College in which 147 students, mostly Christian, were shot.  There has been a string of attacks against Christians by Islamic terrorist groups, although most of the people killed by these groups such as ISIS are not Christians, but Muslims who refuse to go along with the ISIS worldview and brutal tactics. 

But if facing death in order to prove faithfulness is what this text is about, I think I’m ready to tell Jesus that I’ve been re-thinking our relationship and I want a trial separation.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I’m afraid to die.  I’m really not.  But, you see, I have this daughter I adore more than anything in the world who seems determined to trot all over the world.  So if she woke up in a foreign country, in the middle of the night with a gun to her head and a voice asking her, “Are you Christian or not?”  I know exactly what I would want her to say  – “Which answer is going to keep me alive?” 

I would say the same thing about David.  And about the rest of my family.  And my friends.  Ok.  Let’s be clear. I don’t want anyone to be a martyr for their faith.  True confession.  I think martyrdom is highly overrated.  In fact, I believe the world would be a much better place if everyone stopped thinking that the best way to prove how much we love our God is to be willing to kill or be killed on God’s behalf. 

If this laying down your life stuff really is about dying for Jesus, then I want no part of it.  I was sitting thinking about Jesus and Rachel and kids dying in dorm rooms and people being beheaded on beaches and I was really ready to give up on this sermon altogether and find an old sermon that wouldn’t make me feel so sad and awful and then I looked again at the first reading from the gospel and I felt about a million times better about life and Jesus and pretty much everything.

We don’t have to die for Jesus.  Jesus is the good shepherd.  Jesus died for us, was raised for us, and lives for us.

Jesus isn’t in the business of creating more martyrs.  Quite the contrary. Jesus died willingly to put death-dealing systems out of business.  And through the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus continues to be in the business of bringing life.  He said it himself, “I have come so that you may have abundant life.”  (John 10:10).    The God who created us isn’t out to destroy you or me.  Or anyone else for that matter.  Even people who seem intent on evil, awful destruction are not outside the concern of God. 

It’s like this according to the gospel of John -- like the good shepherd he is, Jesus keeps searching for the sheep not in his fold, even the really pesky, difficult, hard to love sheep.  Jesus hasn’t given up on ISIS and the KuKluxKlan and members of Congress.  Jesus hasn’t given up on the nasty waitress at Eat n’ Park, and the homeless guys under the interstate.  And Jesus hasn’t given up on you and me, sitting here in this respectable Christian church and still just as needy as anyone else when it comes to grace, love and forgiveness.  We are all sheep, prone to wander, prone to leave the God I love like the feckless sheep I am.

Jesus keeps trying to get everyone together, inviting everyone to take a break from our usual death-dealing activities and come over for dinner, have some wine and bread, and get to know one another better.  God is like the matriarch/patriarch of the whole human family who nevers stops trying to get us all to live peacefully together under one roof of  God’s creation, one flock with one shepherd. 

Jesus isn’t about creating more martyrs willing to die for something, but about creating new and more communities committed to live for one another.

Meanwhile, back here in Emsworth, Pa., the odds of us becoming martyrs for the faith are pretty slim.  What does this text from 1 John have to say to us?  Anything at all?  If laying down our lives doesn’t mean dying for Jesus, what are we to do?

We are to love.  Just as Jesus did.  Not in word and speech, but in truth and action.  We are to love in ways that are palpable, and visible, and real.

And before you say to yourself, “There she goes again, preaching that soft and squishy love stuff…” remember   --  loving the way that 1 John describes is actually a whole lot more difficult than dying. 

Loving in truth and action means sacrificing something about ourselves for the sake of the gospel, but it’s not a one-and-done kind of sacrifice.  It’s a daily struggle to understand and hopefully respond to the needs of people around us by laying down some things that we need to lay down.  Not just our money or our stuff, but even more precious things like our time.  Our need to be right.  Our prejudices and preferences.  Our discomfort.  Our grudges.  Our old hurts.  Our love for what used to be that blocks us from imagining what might yet be.  Laying down our lives means giving up whatever it is that is keeping us distant from a brother or sister who needs us.  And Lord knows, those are the most difficult distances to bridge.

When the writer of the epistle insists that we lay down our lives for each other, he’s getting nebby.  He’s going in close, down from lofty theology and into the daily grind of life together.  He says that it is here, in our community, that we must practice giving ourselves away.  We give away things that are dear to us so that we can learn what is truly dear.  We learn to empty ourselves for others.  It is by doing it that we learn to love.

This lay down your life love is not an emotion.  It is active.   It is a verb.  It moves us into places we never expected to be, but we can be certain Jesus will meet us every single time.

This is the way Jesus moved through his life on earth.  Jesus connected.  He didn’t solve or eliminate large social problems.  He touched and healed and cured and comforted individuals who suffered because of social problems.  Jesus didn’t eliminate leprosy or design a new health insurance plan.  He cured lepers and said it was ok to cure people on the Sabbath.  He dealt in specifics and he told his followers to do the same.   One person at a time.  Close enough to touch.

The writer of 1 John tells us that we will know love  -- real Christian love -- when we lay down our lives for one another.  But sometimes love feels kind of pointless when we see how often it is that our efforts fail.  We give and give and give, and we see no movement toward things getting better.  Sometimes we despair that we will ever solve anything or save anyone.  We pour ourselves into people, and they disappoint us.  After a while, we begin to feel beaten up and sick. If we are honest, we admit that our efforts are very often vain, that we have, like the servant in the Suffering Servant psalm in Isaiah, “spent our strength for vanity and nothing” (Isaiah 49:4). 

We live in a world that likes to be able to measure, analyze and quantify our efforts in everything we do.  We like a sense of control that reassures us -- if we put a certain amount of effort into a task or a job, we can expect a certain output.  When an effort fails, or seems to, we often blame ourselves.  The “if-onlys” creep into our brain.  “If only I were a better person.  If only I had thought of that.  If only I hadn’t done or said that.”  Or we begin to blame the other person, “If only you would take my good advice.  If only you were more like this.  If only you were less like that.”

Most often, it is our own hearts that condemn us, says the epistle writer.  Things done and things undone; things said and unsaid; our hearts latch onto such things, gnaws on them like a bone, and we experience the kind of self-condemnation that, if we are not careful, becomes self-loathing.  

One of the things I often say to many of you when you become discouraged like this is, “You didn’t do it and you can’t fix it.”  All you can do is keep loving.  Even when it seems to have no effect.  Don’t worry about wasting love.  It is an infinitely regenerating power that we do not create ourselves – we receive it as God’s good gift.    Like faith and hope, love never ends.

When we have decisions to make about how we will live together as a community, we can know we are on the right track if we measure our motivations by asking, “Are we doing this out of love?”  Sometimes it is impossible to know where our motivations come from and whether we’re doing what is right.  Especially in the church, where the old metrics of membership and money and perfect Sunday school attendance no longer seem to work as a measure that we are faithfully serving God.

Thankfully, the writer of 1 John reminds us, “God is greater than our hearts and God knows everything.”  God knows where our impulses come from, where our insecurity chokes us and where our guilt resides.  And God loves us, blesses us and forgives us anyway.  And sends us out again, despite our doubts and perfections, asking only that we trust Jesus and keep loving.  Even if we’re not sure we doing it well.

Barbara Brown Taylors says it well:  “When it comes down to being a provider of God's love, there is really only one provider, who sends us out with nothing at all and with everything we need: healing, forgiveness, restoration, resurrection. Those are the only things we really have to share with the world, which is just as well, since they are the only things the world really needs."

Our reassurance, then, is that we still can’t get over the impulse to love despite everything in the world working against love.   Love that is willing to give of itself and, more importantly, get over itself is a gift of the Spirit.  We know that gift when we reach out to the unreachable.  To lovingly offer our treasure to one another, even if we do so imperfectly and even if the result cannot be measured or even seen by human eyes.  If God is good, and God is love, then God will bring out the best in us, even in those moments in which we are terribly uncertain of our own goodness.  God sees strength in us when all we feel is weak.  God sees ability in us when we feel most feeble.  God sees faith in us when we are ready to chuck it all and just go take a nap.  God sees hope for us when all we see is a tangled mess. 

And sometimes, taking a nap is really good idea. 

I don’t know about you, but one thing I have discovered to be reliably true in my life is that every thing seems to get better when I remember that it’s not about me.  When I remember that the church is not about what makes me comfortable or makes me look good or makes me feel good about myself.  It’s about how the goodness of God can show up when I least expect it and push me forward into what seems to give life to someone else. 

Loving one another like Jesus loves takes all of our self-perfecting, self-criticizing, self-doubting energy and funnels it toward the ones who need, the ones who do not have enough, the ones who are hungry, the ones who are lonely and sick and bereaved. 

What are you willing to lay down for the sake of this community? 
How do we deeply care, and risk everything we have, so others may have fullness and quality of life?
How will God’s love be expressed by this congregation?  This year?  Next year? 
How will we be bold before God? 
Will we be a reflection of the truth -- not only that Jesus had the power to lay down his life, but the power to take it up again? 

I leave you today with these questions, because the answers can only come from your own hearts, and the trust that God actually is greater than our hearts.  And even when you think you have the answers, and even if they are good answers, none of them will mean anything at all until you put flesh on the Word that gives you life.

Brothers and sisters, let us love not in word or speech that cost us nothing, but in the costly way of truth and action.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.