Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Leadership, Discipleship, and Grief

6th Sunday after Pentecost
June 26, 2016
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62


            You’ll probably be glad to hear that this is the last of our Elijah readings. After all, he’s taken up in a whirlwind to heaven in today’s passage; there’s not much more he can do. Last Sunday we talked about how after he grieved, God sent him back home and told him he had new work to do. That new work was picking and training a successor, Elisha. Elijah anoints Elisha and Elisha becomes his right-hand man, his helper, his apprentice.
            Elijah and Elisha then go everywhere together as Elisha learns from Elijah everything about being a prophet. We’d call it on-the-job training today, and yet it’s also a Biblical model. The twelve disciples are picked by Jesus and go everywhere with him over three years before Jesus ascends and they continue his ministry because they learned directly from him. They could continue his work because they knew exactly what his work was and had spent all that time with him learning. It’s the same as Elijah and Elisha. This is ministry where you take someone along with you. Moses took his brother, Aaron. Paul took Timothy and Silas. Jesus took the twelve. It’s not just safety in numbers, although that may be a factor depending on where you go. This is training your successor, so that when you’re gone, someone else knows what to do. That was Elijah’s new work to do, after he was done grieving the loss of all of his fellow prophets. Elijah was the only one left, and now it’s his job to teach someone else so that he is not the only prophet. You want another person who can do your job? Prayerfully discern who to pick, and then train them! (By the way, any of our chairs who may be considering stepping down at the end of the year, this applies to you, too. First, please notify your pastor, and then start prayerfully considering who can follow you so that they can become a vice chair and learn from you before you step down!) The best way to learn is hands-on experience, and that’s what Elijah provides for Elisha. That’s the side of the trainer.
But what about the trainee? The end of Elisha’s learning comes with Elijah being taken up to heaven. And you can see, for some reason, Elijah doesn’t want Elisha to be with him when this happens. Yet Elisha keeps saying, “As the Lord lives, and as you live, I won’t leave you.”[1] Elisha cares enough about his mentor to stay with him until the very end and Elijah finally accepts that he’s not going to be left alone. He’s not going to be by himself when he’s taken to heaven. Elijah asks Elisha, “What do you want me to do for you before I’m taken away from you?” Elisha doesn’t miss a beat and immediately answers, “Let me have twice your spirit. Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit.  Let me receive the share of your power that will make me your successor.” Elisha’s been trained, but Elisha still has to act to follow in Elijah’s footsteps. He still has to receive the power and authority from God. This double portion references the law from the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy that the first born son receives double the share of the other sons.[2] To guarantee his place as Elijah’s successor, Elisha asked for the share that the first-born son inherited by law from his father. He wanted to make sure this was clear that he was inheriting his place as prophet in Israel directly from Elijah.
Two things about this inheritance. One is that Elisha was ready with his answer. There was no pause, there was no hemming and hawing, there was no request to come up with an answer later. Elisha knew what he wanted from Elijah before his mentor left him.  The other place in the Bible where there’s a similar question and ready answer is in the Gospel of Mark. Jesus asks a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” and the blind man immediately answers, “Teacher, I want to see.”[3] This blind man on the side of the road hears that Jesus is about to pass by, and he knows exactly what he wants from this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Elisha knew his training was at an end, and he knew the one more thing he wanted from Elijah. Do you have an answer ready, for when you’re asked?
The second thing about Elisha’s request to inherit a double portion of Elijah’s spirit is that it’s not any different than what we want to inherit from our spiritual mentors and those who have trained us in the way of discipleship. If you think of those who have trained you, those who have taught you what it means to follow Jesus, those who have shown so brightly the fruits of the Spirit that we read about in Galatians, isn’t that what we want, too? A double portion of their spirit? The church lady who taught you about hospitality and how it was important to always have enough for everyone and include everyone and wouldn’t make a big deal about it, a double portion of her spirit. And the prayer warrior whose faith could literally move mountains and wouldn’t let anything stand in their way, a double portion of their spirit. And the handyman, who did a million little things around the church and didn’t care that they largely went unnoticed, a double portion of his spirit. This is how we honor those who have trained us and those who have gone before us, paving the way, showing us how to live so that we also produce the fruits of the Spirit of “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” We do what they taught us, we keep their values of never letting someone go hungry or making sure we spend time in prayer every day. We seek a double portion of their spirit, and not to hoard it for ourselves selfishly, but to share it, just as our predecessors did. Paul wrote to the Galatians, “You were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only don’t let this freedom be an opportunity to indulge your selfish impulses, but serve each other through love.” Don’t hide your gift, or your fruit, or your spirt, or your inheritance under a basket, taking it out only to peek at it to make sure you still have whatever keepsake it is. We are to serve each other, not be selfish. We don’t do what only benefits us, but our aim is to love our brothers and sisters, just as our mentors loved us. Or, more accurately, just as Jesus loved them and loves us.
This discipleship journey is not easy. Sometimes we lose loved ones. Sometimes we really want to be selfish and keep what we have for ourselves or only share it with people like us. Sometimes the pain is so great that we’re there with today’s psalmist, who cried out, “I cry aloud to God… In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord, in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.”[4] Sometimes the night is dark. Sometimes Jesus says things we really don’t want to hear. I don’t know if you caught it at the beginning of today’s Gospel reading, Jesus goes into a Samaritan village and they refuse to welcome him. They don’t refuse hospitality to him because they’re Samaritans and Jesus is a Jew. They refuse to welcome him into their village because “it was clear that he was on his way to Jerusalem.” On his way to Jerusalem meant that he was on his way to his crucifixion, on his way to great suffering and rejection and death. Elijah was on his way to his death, as well, yet Elisha insisted on staying with him. Others would not welcome Jesus because of it, and the twelve stayed with him as long as they could, before they, too, abandoned Jesus at the eleventh hour. It’s hard to go with Jesus to the cross. It’s hard and it sucks and it’s painful, and yet it’s necessary for life, because only through the cross, only through the resurrection, is there the hope of eternal life on the other side. It’s the hope we have for our loved ones who have gone before, our spiritual mentors who have taught us how to produce the fruits of the Spirit, of whose spirit we want a double portion. Lord, let it be so today! Amen.



[1] 2 Kings 2:2, 4, 6
[2] Deuteronomy 21:17
[3] Mark 10:51-52
[4] Psalm 77:1-2

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Swing Again

5th Sunday after Pentecost
June 19, 2016
Father’s Day
1 Kings 19:1-15a; Psalm 42; Galatians 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39

(Video found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps9NV94eviQ )

            How many of you are familiar with the term ‘compassion fatigue’? It’s when you get worn out from helping people so much and caring so much that you can get to a point where you no longer care and can no longer motivate yourself to help. It’s usually caused by not doing enough self-care while you’re caring for others. You only have so much to give, if you don’t rejuvenate and refresh and renew yourself. If you don’t take care of your own needs, then you can easily feel overwhelmed by the world’s needs. Or, as a father, if you don’t take care of yourself, it becomes that much harder to take care of your family. Jesus says, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” meaning that you love and take care of yourself, too; not yourself more than others, or others more than yourself. You have to take care of yourself in order to take care of others, and we are all called to care for others.
            Today’s Old Testament reading about Elijah picks back up from a couple weeks ago, when we read about Elijah challenging 450 prophets of Baal. He completely blew them out of the water, and then, if we read one verse more, went too far and had them all killed. Now, Queen Jezebel has responded by threatening to kill Elijah, “May the gods strike me dead if by this time tomorrow I don't do the same thing to you that you did to the prophets.”[1] It’s quite the death threat. And even though God has just proved that he is indeed the Lord, Elijah is terrified by Jezebel’s threat and runs for his life. He runs into the wilderness and just completely despairs, praying to God to take his life. Elijah then lies down and falls asleep. Twice an angel wakes him to make him eat and drink so that he has strength for the next journey. God has Elijah travel 40 days and 40 nights to his holy mountain, Mount Sinai, and by then Elijah has regained some of his strength and his composure and is ready to talk. God asks him, “Whatcha doing here, Elijah? You know, a month’s journey from where you’re supposed to be ministering, despairing for your life, and after I just proved myself dramatically against the false prophets of Baal. Why are you worried about Jezebel’s threat?” Elijah tells God “I’ve been very zealous and passionate for your cause, God, and they killed all your other prophets.  I’m the only one left and now they’re coming after me, too. I’m worn out and at the end of my rope. I don’t have anything left.”
God responds by telling Elijah to go stand on the mountain because God is about to pass by. First Elijah feels the gust of a strong wind, strong enough to knock him off his feet, but God’s not in the wind. Then Elijah feels the ground shake underneath him in an earthquake, but God’s not in the earthquake. Then Elijah feels the heat of a fire, but God’s not in the fire. And then there’s a very quiet sound, a still, small voice, a gentle and quiet whisper; one translation says it’s the sound of sheer silence.[2] When Elijah hears it, he covers his face and goes out to stand before God. Again, God asks him, “Why are you here, Elijah?” and you can hear the tender gentleness in God’s voice. And again Elijah says, “I’ve been very passionately serving you, God. They killed all your other prophets. I’m the only one left, and now they’re trying to kill me, too,” and you can hear the grieving and despair in Elijah’s voice. It’s like Elijah could have written our psalm for this morning, “My soul thirsts for God… My tears have been my food day and night… These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God… My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me.”[3] God hears this lament, and then gently tells Elijah, “Go back. I have new work for you to do.”
            Like we read in Ecclesiastes and The Byrds sang in the ‘60’s, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”[4] There is a time to keep quiet and to lie low. There is a time to seek refuge. And there is a time to mourn and lament and grieve. It is a healthy way to deal with suffering and pain. There are times we need to be by ourselves. There are times we need to go to places of shelter, places we know we’re safe, places where we know we’re completely loved. Those are good coping mechanisms. Elijah did all right taking time for himself. He hadn’t yet mourned and grieved for his fellow prophets. With a loss like that, you’re got to take the time to grieve.
There is definitely a time to mourn, especially in the face of such a tragedy, such a time of despair. Especially when you’re trying to handle such strong emotions and such suffering, you have to take the time for yourself to start healing before you go back out in the world again. Otherwise those emotions and that pain is going to bubble up or even burst out at other times and it may be inappropriate, it may permanently ruin a relationship, it may make you bitter and unhappy, if there’s grief you haven’t acknowledged and worked through yet. And I trust you know that those “7 stages of grief” aren’t necessarily linear and you don’t necessarily go through them in a precise order or cross them off after you’re done with one. Here with Elijah we already see guilt and anger and depression. And after taking this time apart at Mount Sinai, he moves on to acceptance and hope.
There is also a definite time to mourn when the truth of our passage from Galatians is not acknowledged. Paul wrote, “You are all God’s children through faith in Christ Jesus. All of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.  There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”[5] We who believe in Jesus are all God’s children and we are all one in Jesus. I had a New Testament professor in seminary who said that this verse from Galatians was Paul’s Gospel, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” These other differences are there, but they are not the most important thing about you. The most important thing about you is that you are God’s beloved child. And there is definitely grief when this is not acknowledged, when your life is threatened, like Elijah, or even like Paul. Paul was eventually put to death by the Roman authorities, martyred for his faith in Jesus, this faith that completely turned the Roman hierarchical system upside down by claiming that we all are one. When we don’t see each other as made in the image of God and clothed with Christ, it is a time to mourn.
However, if you know that passage from Ecclesiastes, there is “a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot…” then you know that these times are paired up.[6]  There is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”[7] So after the time to mourn and grieve, then follows a time to dance and celebrate. In our Gospel reading, the man healed of the demons is told by Jesus to go and share what God has done for you. He wants to join Jesus as one of the disciples, but Jesus says, “Return home, and tell the story of what God has done for you.”[8] Like Elijah, he is told to go back. And isn’t this what so many of our dads teach us, to get up and swing again. Dust yourself off, take a minute outside the batter’s box if you need it, and then get back in the game and try again. Get a Band-Aid if you’re bleeding, or ice for a new bruise; take time to take care of yourself. And then get back out there, ready to play again.



[1] 1 Kings 19:2
[2] NRSV
[3] Psalm 42:2-7
[4] Ecclesiastes 3:1
[5] Galatians 3:26-28
[6] Ecclesiastes 3:2
[7] Ecclesiastes 3:4
[8] Luke 8:39

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Grace and Forgiveness

4th Sunday after Pentecost
June 12, 2016
Galatians 2:15-21; Luke 7:26-8:3

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gghUwJgamJE )

Grace was my theme word in Nicaragua.  Whenever I would start to feel critical about the way something was being done or of a person, the word GRACE would scream itself inside my head.   I was not there to judge; I was there to serve.  And so grace was something I learned a lot about in Nicaragua: how to receive it, how to give it, and most importantly, how to allow myself grace.  For perhaps the first time in my life, I felt completely accepted for who I was, as I was.  The locals did not judge me, they were just glad I was there, trying to help their country.  They did not expect me to be perfect, or well-behaved, or obedient.  And all grace is, is God’s unconditional, undeserved, unmerited love. 
Christian author Philip Yancey came out with a book in 2002 called What’s So Amazing About Grace?  The whole point of the book was that the church has forgotten that our mission is to offer grace.  We, as Christians, are not to judge or to criticize; we are to offer unconditional love to all who cross our path. That includes grace to ourselves, when we mess up and wish we had done things differently, and grace to others. Some people are easy to offer grace to; others are harder, and yet we are to allow grace to those who have wronged us as well. The work of grace includes the hard work of forgiveness.
Jesus’ parable that he tells to the Pharisee is about forgiveness. A Pharisee has invited Jesus over for dinner with him. If you remember, Pharisees were the sect of Judaism that were very strict and careful about observing all the laws and traditions and strict in their temple attendance and participation. Obedience to the letter of the law was of utmost importance. During dinner, there is a woman, who all we know about her is that she is sinful, and she cleans and anoints Jesus’ feet. The Pharisee is there thinking, if Jesus really were a prophet, he’d know this woman is a sinner. Of course, Jesus knows that, and he knows what the Pharisee is thinking, and so he tells him a parable about two debtors. One owed a little and one owed a lot and the creditor canceled both of their debts. It’s kind of like the real life story of John Oliver from this past week.[1] He bought $15 million of medical debt, for some 9,000 people, from a bank, and then forgave the loans for those 9,000 individuals. If your loan was only $1,000, you may not have been as excited about it as if your loan was $50,000, and that’s Jesus’ point. The woman’s “sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”[2]
If you take great care not to ever mess up, then you have little need for a savior and for grace, because you never have anything of which to be forgiven. If you’re a little more comfortable with yourself and know that sometimes you mess up and sometimes other people mess up and that there is grace for yourself and grace for everyone else, then you are a little more loving. And you’re a little more loving because you know that there is grace and forgiveness and you don’t have to be perfect. You know the truth of Romans 3:23, that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” You know no one is perfect except God and in all your striving, all your crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s, you cannot make yourself perfect and you cannot save yourself. Instead, we all need Christ and we need Jesus because of his unconditional love. We believe, again quoting from Romans, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”[3] And because of this great love, because of this grace, Jesus makes us right with God. That’s what Paul is trying to explain in our Galatians reading this morning when he writes, “We know that a person is put right with God not by the works of the law, but only through faith in Jesus Christ.”[4] There is no action, there is no law to obey that will save us. Only Jesus Christ in his saving grace can make us right. If you’ve heard the term ‘justification’, that’s what it is: God’s grace that saves us.
However, that’s not the end of the story. Just as God has forgiven us, so we are to forgive others who have wronged us. It’s right there in the Lord’s Prayer that we pray every Sunday, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.”[5] A newer translation (CEB) says, “Forgive us for the ways we have wronged you, just as we also forgive those who have wronged us.” Just as we receive God’s grace, we are to show God’s grace to others. We are to offer unconditional love to all who cross our path.
            Now, I know this can be hard work. When Osama bin Laden was killed a few years ago, one pastor friend commented on Facebook, “Now begins the hard work of forgiveness.” Forgiving someone who has majorly wronged you is really hard. This is not an easy task Jesus gives us. Of course, it wasn’t easy for Jesus, either. He got nailed to the cross and died in order to forgive our sins. God making us right with God cost him the death of his only begotten Son. This grace is expensive, and God knows that. Yet God also knows that it’s worth it.
Now, forgiveness is not pretending that it never happened. It does not mean forgetting and it does not mean that what happened is ok. Instead, “it means taking what happened seriously and not minimizing it. It means drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence.”[6] I’m going to repeat that, “It means drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens to poison our entire existence.” Forgiveness means drawing out the sting, so that we can move on from that wrong. I didn’t come up with that; that came from Archbishop Desmond Tutu. He’s a priest in the Anglican Church and was chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that South Africa put together when it ended apartheid. The book he wrote on that experience is called No Future Without Forgiveness. He says, “When someone cannot be forgiven, there is no future.” When there is some brokenness in the relationship, there is no future for that relationship until the brokenness is healed, until the sin is forgiven. “True forgiveness deals with the past, all of the past, to make the future possible.” And you may decide, like a bad divorce, that you just don’t want a future with that person, and that’s fine. But you still have to figure out how to forgive, how to draw the sting out of the memory, because otherwise it will make you very bitter and very cynical. There is no future for you if you hold onto a grudge and nurse it. It will not make you a better person. It will not make you happier. It will not make you more loving. It will not make you more Christ-like. Not forgiving a wrong done to you, whether the offender knows it or not, or is still around or not, will slowly eat away at you and it will affect not only you, but those around you.
            I don’t know who you need to forgive this morning. Maybe it’s yourself and you need to allow yourself more grace. Maybe it’s an old friend or family member. Maybe a former pastor or a former church member. Maybe a current pastor or a current church member. If there is some memory that stings this morning, let’s pray for God to draw out the sting, to lessen the pain. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be bitter. I’d much rather offer grace and receive grace.



[2] Luke 7:47
[3] Romans 8:38-39
[4] Galatians 2:16
[5] Matthew 6:12
[6] Archbishop Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness