Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Kind of King


Christ the King Sunday
November 24, 2019
Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

The kingship of Christ tends to rub our American sensibilities the wrong way. Our ancestors fought a way to get away from a king and set up a different kind of government where power was shared and with a system of checks and balances. We’re really not sure about kings today, unless they’re figureheads, like many of the world’s remaining monarchs, or they’re the fathers of Disney princesses like King Triton and…, well, how many Disney kings can you name? Even in fairytale kingdoms, they’re still mostly figureheads. And I think that’s why we have trouble relating to and understanding Jesus Christ as King. If he’s like the kings of old, we’re not sure we want him to have all the power and none for us. Or, if he’s a figurehead, he’s basically pretty useless and powerless. I was reading this past week a book that suggested that part of why so many of our churches are having trouble moving forward are because so many people who claim to be Christian are actually functional atheists. The accusation stung, especially this sentence: “Instead of believing in the manna that came from God’s hand, the church learned to set its own table and provide its own feast.”[1] As in, we think we have to produce all the resources (people, dollars, and influence) in order to make ministry happen. We believe we have to provide it! That’s functional atheism. It’s acting as if God doesn’t exist. As if God doesn’t provide. As if God doesn’t give us enough. The truth is God provided manna for the Israelites in the wilderness, enough for each day, and God provides enough for us, too, our daily bread. Christ the King is not a powerless figurehead. He is all-powerful, almighty – the difference from the kings of history is that he doesn’t abuse his power. Instead of using it to oppress people, he uses it to lift up the lowly.
Let’s start with our Gospel lesson this morning. The place is Golgotha, which means the Skull, also called Calvary. The scene is Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus is hung on the middle cross and there is a criminal hung on a cross on each side of him. Jesus is mocked three times that this King of the Jews cannot save himself. Because kings are supposed to be powerful, right? And yet this king’s power is called into question, not just once but three times. What they don’t know is that by not saving only himself, this king can now save everyone. But before he gets there, look closer at what King Jesus does right before he dies. In Luke’s Gospel, this is Jesus’s last action before dying. He forgives. This is a King who forgives. First, he forgives those who crucified him! On your death bed, and you forgive what’s causing you to die. Some people do. Some people are at peace with it. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” They think they know what they’re doing. They think they’ve got this troublemaker, this person who would dare to defy the Roman Empire, this self-proclaimed blasphemer Son of God right where they want him. They don’t know what they’re doing. And even in agony and pain from the nails in his hands and his feet, because crucifixion is truly a painful way to die, Jesus forgives them. That’s what kind of King he is.
But he’s not just done there! Then there are these two actual criminals on each side of him, who know that their actions deserve punishing. One man joins in the mockery of Jesus’s power, “If you are who you say you are, if you are the Messiah, the Savior” (can you hear the sarcasm?), “then save yourself and us.” Before Jesus can respond, the other man criticizes him, calls him out on his functional atheism, because the first man does not truly believe that Jesus can save him. The second man points out that the two of them are getting what they deserve whereas Jesus is not. Jesus is innocent. And he says those beautiful words, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This second man is a believer, and he recognizes that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior, the King. Jesus says yes, in effect forgiving this man who’s on the cross next to him, whose sins needed forgiving. That’s the kind of King Jesus is. He didn’t come for the do-gooders, for those who are sinless. As Jesus says earlier in Luke’s Gospel, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”[2] And he’s doing it even here, on the cross.
Another description of that is found in our Colossians reading this morning. It said, God “has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”[3] God saved us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into Jesus’s kingdom. It’s like that great verse from Isaiah that we read during Advent, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.”[4] We move from the kingdom of darkness and sin, where those things are in control and have power, to Jesus’ kingdom of light and love and forgiveness, where Jesus is King.
To add in our Jeremiah reading, Jesus is “a king who will reign wisely and do what is right and just.” Jesus is a King who gathers the flock, who seeks us out, and invites us to come back to the fold. Come home. It’s like that old hymn, “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me; see on the portals he’s watching and waiting, watching for you and for me. Come home, come home; you who are weary, come home; earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling O sinner, come home!”[5] That’s the kind of king Jesus is. He does not force you. He does not say my way or the highway. He says, “This is the way that leads to life.” He says, “Follow me if you believe God’s kingdom is at hand.” He says, “I want you with me, in my kingdom. I like having you with me. You are important to me.” He says, “You do not need to be afraid any longer. You do not need to run or hide any longer. I love you.” This is the kind of king Jesus is: the kind who knows your name; the kind who will leave his throne and personally come find you; the kind who loves you no matter what and says there’s always a place for you at his table. This is a different kind of king than the world has ever experienced.
This is a king of love, as we sang in our middle hymn. And not only are we to feel and know the security and comfort of this king’s love and forgiveness and belonging, we are also to emulate this king. We are to love others as Jesus loves us. We are to forgive others as we have been forgiven (that’s actually part of the Lord’s Prayer!). We are to make space for others at our table. We are not part of a clique or a country club, we’re the church! We’re a hospital for sinners: you, me, everyone who walks through that door or turns down our driveway. This should be a safe space, where you are not judged or critiqued because of your sin or your looks or anything else! This should be a safe space, where all feel welcome and heard and included and safe. That’s what it means to share the love of Jesus. That’s what it means to be rooted in Christ, rooted in Jesus’ love, in order to nurture our community from that unending well of love. Christ the King isn’t a figurehead and we who bear his name as Christian shouldn’t function as atheists. Our words and our actions should proclaim Jesus as the Lord of our lives, Lord of our church, Lord of our country, and Lord of our world! Too many of us, and I’m talking to you inside these walls, not to those out there, too many of us here don’t live that way. We think our actions are what save us. We think we need to go find other resources than what God has already given us. Beloved, others aren’t going to save us. That work has already been done, on a hill far away. Jesus could have climbed down from the cross and saved only himself. Wouldn’t the people loved to have seen that! Instead, he stayed so that all could be saved, so that all sins could be forgiven, so that all might know how much God loves them.
As you go forth this week, as you sit around Thanksgiving tables, add an extra chair and place setting, so that you’re ready for one more. If you know someone who may not have a table to join, invite them to yours. It’s better to have ten invitations than zero. Remember, Jesus seeks out the lost and the lonely. That’s part of the work he invites us to join him in. And in today’s world, there are more lonely people than ever. I was talking with some of my clergy colleagues who also serve this area and it was mentioned that while some people move to this area to be alone, to live a little more secluded, to have more space, one unintended consequence is that sometimes they then become more lonely. Being alone can be good or bad or neutral. Being lonely means that you want someone to notice you, to see you, to include you. The Beatles wrote “Eleanor Rigby,” “look at all the lonely people,” over 50 years ago, and it’s more true today than it was then. This week, seek someone out. Include someone. Invite someone. Entertain angels unawares, as the book of Hebrews says of welcoming strangers. And if you’re the one feeling lonely, this is my invitation to you, call me. Come to my house for lunch today. Or let’s meet for coffee or lunch next week.
The other hymn I was thinking of while writing this sermon is the one called “Freely, Freely.” It’s 389 in your red hymnal. I invite you to join me in singing. “God forgave my sin in Jesus' name, I've been born again in Jesus' name, And in Jesus' name I come to you, To share His love as He told me to. He said freely, freely, You have received, Freely, freely give, Go in My name, And because you believe, Others will know that I live. All pow'r is giv'n in Jesus' name, In earth and heav'n in Jesus' name, And in Jesus' name I come to you, To share His pow'r as He told me to. He said freely, freely, You have received, Freely, freely give, Go in My name, And because you believe, Others will know that I live.”


[1] Quietly Courageous: Leading the Church in a Changing World by Gil Rendle, p. 77
[2] Luke 5:31-32
[3] Colossians 1:13-14
[4] Isaiah 9:2
[5] UMH 348

Thursday, November 14, 2019

Courage


22nd Sunday after Pentecost
November 10, 2019
Haggai 1:15b-2:9; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

            You may have noticed a theme in the All Saints songs we sang last week, something that’s spelled out in the All Saints song we sang this morning: saints are patient and brave and true. Every song about saints talks about how they are bold and courageous. The passage in the Bible we tend to think about when we hear the phrase “strong and courageous” is when the Israelites are getting ready to enter the Promised Land. Their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness is at an end. Moses sinned and his punishment is that he’s not allowed to lead the people across the border. In one of his last speeches, he tells the new leader Joshua, in front of all the people, “Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into the land that the Lord promised to their ancestors to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”[1] Those are Moses’ parting words as he passes the torch of leadership to Joshua. Then, after Moses dies, the Lord speaks to Joshua and says, “[Get ready to cross the Jordan River into the Promised Land.] As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their ancestors to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go… Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”[2] Three times, be strong and courageous, and that reminder to not be afraid, because the Lord your God is always with you.
            This is the same refrain that the Lord tells Haggai hundreds of years later as Haggai prepares his people for something new. If you remember, Israel lived in the Promised Land for quite some time, ruled by judges and then kings. The kingdom split after King Solomon and into Israel in the north and Judah in the south. Then came the conquering armies: first the Assyrians who conquered Israel and later the Babylonians who conquered Judah. God’s people were taken into exile and their homes destroyed. The prophets stayed with God’s people throughout the exile, like Jeremiah who told the people to settle down in exile and build homes there and have families. The exile lasted about 70 years when “King Cyrus of Persia announced that the peoples who had earlier been exiled by the Babylonians could return to their homelands. They could settle in, rebuild, and worship as they wished. Persia would retain ultimate control, but Judea would have some modicum of say in the everyday order. So, exiled Judeans, though mostly their descendants, returned to Jerusalem and set about the difficult work of rebuilding a city. It was not a wholly peaceful time as those who returned had conflict with those who had remained among the rubble and those who had moved in during the interim” (like Nehemiah who had gone back to rebuild the wall and the city gate).[3] One big source of conflict was rebuilding the temple. The original one had been built by King Solomon and was a thing of grandeur and beauty. It was destroyed when Babylon invaded. Rebuilding has begun, but some people think it’s moving too fast, they can’t afford it yet.
Haggai is the first prophet after the exile and his book is only two chapters long. In chapter 1, he reminds the people that they have homes and are quickly acquiring wealth. Surely they must have something for their God, too. They built their houses; it’s time to build a house of worship, too. Yes, they can afford it. In fact, they can’t afford not to.
In chapter 2, what we read this morning, the word of the Lord came to Haggai and said, “Go talk to Zerubbabel, the governor, go talk to Joshua, (different Joshua), this one is the high priest, and go talk to the people. There are a few who still remember the old temple in all its glory. To them, the new temple does not seem enough: big enough, fancy enough, good enough. Tell them to take courage, to be strong, and work, for I am with you and my Spirit remains among you. Do not be afraid!” That mandate to be courageous is repeated three times, just like with Joshua getting ready to enter the Promised Land. This time, it’s rebuilding God’s temple, which is going to look different than before, and God commands, “Take courage, Zerubbabel, the governor. Take courage, Joshua, the high priest. And take courage, all my people, and get to work.” Do it, anyway. It doesn’t matter whether you don’t think you have enough resources. It’s not going to be like Solomon’s temple, anyway. That was then, this is now. Now, rebuilding this temple represents your priorities and your allegiance to God who sustains you. Be brave, be strong. Don’t get sucked into the mindset of scarcity and not enough. There is enough. You have all you need. So be strong and courageous and bold, and get to work.
Our reading from 2 Thessalonians is similar in this way to Haggai. These Christians in the early church believed that God could do anything, but they were doing nothing to help.[4] They were just passively waiting for Jesus’ return, which the early church believed would be soon. In the meantime, all they wanted to do was watch and cheer from the sidelines. They were unwilling and hesitant to get involved in the church. It’s like an end of the world scenario, right? The end is coming, so why bother with anything? Some people turn into the “frozen chosen,” even though God says to keep working. As we read in Luke, “God is not God of the dead but of the living.”[5] So, Paul told the early Christians to stand firm and be encouraged and strengthened. God is with you. God says that great things are going to happen and that your help is needed. So, be strong and courageous and get to work!
There are times when we’re afraid to take that next step, whether it’s entering the Promised Land or rebuilding or getting more involved. I was talking with a colleague last week about that moment between when I get ready to preach, and I open my mouth. It’s terrifying. But I trust that what I’ve prepared was inspired by the Holy Spirit. I trust that the Holy Spirit can work through me and my nervousness and my flaws and the limits of language. And I trust that you will hear the Word from God that you need to hear today, if you are open to receiving it, whether it’s something I actually say or not. I take a deep breath, and I just do it. There’s a reason why Nike was so effective with that slogan. It’s about overcoming fear. It’s about being courageous and brave. And that’s what God calls us to do, too. To have courage to live. To have courage to do what we know we need to do. It goes back to that passage from Hebrews I quoted last week about how because all the saints surround us, this great cloud of witnesses, then we can throw off everything that hinders us, like fear, and run the race set before us.
Sometimes we need the courage to face the fact that life is different than it used to be and there’s no going back. It’s not going to be like it was before a major medical diagnosis or a natural disaster or job loss or any other major life event. The new temple isn’t going to be like the old one, so it’s not helpful to compare the present to the past, which we usually idolize, anyway, rose-colored glasses and all that. The past isn’t usually as great as we think it was. Have courage to live in the present and have hope for the future. Trust it will be ok. In this case, comparing the present with how things used to be isn’t helpful; in fact, it’s downright harmful. Because this is a new time. Today is a new day, one we’ve never seen before and a day we’ll never see again. Today, will you be bold and courageous? Will you live into your calling as a saint of God, to be patient and brave and true? Will you have courage to face whatever it is you need to face, knowing, deep within you, that God is with you? That’s the meaning of Emmanuel, which we’ll hear and sing more about next month during Advent as we prepare for the coming of our Savior.
            This morning I’d like to end a little differently. I’d like to ask you to reflect first on last week and when last week did you have to be courageous. [Pause.] Then, where this week do you need courage? [Pause.] Now, turn to your neighbor and tell them so that they can pray for you. After each of you shares, I expect you each to pray for each other.


Tuesday, November 5, 2019

Inheritance


All Saints Sunday
November 3, 2019
Ephesians 1:11-23; Luke 6:20-31

            In 2003, a new book burst on the fantasy/sci-fi scene, similar to Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. The big difference was that the author was only 20 years old and had started writing the book at age 15. The book, “Eragon,” is the first book in a four-book series called the Inheritance Cycle, and it tells the story of an orphaned farm boy named Eragon, who finds a mysterious blue stone in the woods. The stone turns out to be a dragon egg, and the series follows the adventures of Eragon and his dragon as they fight against the evil king and Eragon learns of his true inheritance. His parents had not simply abandoned him to be raised by his aunt and uncle, as he’d believed. His father was a famous dragon rider who’d gone into hiding and his mother had died shortly after his birth. Eragon becomes a famous dragon rider in his own right, although there is no happy ever after in this story. At the end, Eragon and his dragon leave their home to go train with other riders and dragons elsewhere.
            How many times have we received an inheritance that we’re not even aware of? I remember a friend in my early 20s who, after meeting my mom, pointed out that I sit the exact same way that she does. It’s easy to identify the physical things that we inherit because we can see them and hold them, like a piece of jewelry. It’s easy to see in my children the abilities they’ve inherited, from my daughter’s art skills that are already better than mine (she gets them from her dad) to my son’s love of baseball and throwing arm, that goes back generations on my dad’s side of the family. It can be harder to name the things we can’t touch, the things we can’t see. Here in the church, we have received an inheritance, also, with some tangible pieces, like a church building, and some pieces that are intangible, like our faith. We have received an inheritance that spans 2,000 years of church history, and even longer when you consider the whole story of God and God’s people, going back to creation. 
Did you know that the first definition of tradition isn’t “a long established way of acting and thinking” and it’s not “a continuing pattern of cultural beliefs and practices”? Tradition, at its root, is “the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, from generation to generation.” The root is Latin, “traditio,” which means to hand on. Our inheritance in the Church is something that’s been handed on to us, the next generation. I’m sure most of us can name people in our lives who were instrumental in our receiving this inheritance. Sunday school teachers, godparents, pastors, other adults in the church all taught us about our faith and showed us how to live our faith. They passed it on to us. The Church is a living tradition as each subsequent generation inherits the faith and tradition of those who have gone before. Does it mean we do it exactly the same? No. Each generation practices it in their own way. It’s the same inheritance being pass on, the same Christian faith. Yet it looks a lot different to be a Christian today than it did 50 years ago, and different from 150 years ago, and different during the Protestant Reformation and different during the Middle Ages and different in the early church. Same faith, same inheritance passed on from generation to generation, and the origin of it is Christ.
In Ephesians we read, “In Christ we have received an inheritance.” The version we read this morning says that “in Christ, we were chosen.” Chosen for what? To receive an inheritance. And the pledge of our inheritance, the sign of it, the guarantee or down payment of our inheritance is the Holy Spirit. Verse 13 says, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit.” What’s that mean? When you were baptized, wherever it was, the pastor made the sign of the cross on your forehead, marking you and sealing you as Christ’s own forever. And the Holy Spirit was present there at your baptism, sanctifying the water, making it holy. If you are baptized, then you have received this inheritance that was marked by the Holy Spirit. If you’re not baptized and feel the Spirit nudging you that you’d like to be, give me a call this week and let’s talk, because this is the inheritance waiting for you.
Now, let’s talk about the why. Why do we receive this inheritance? Or perhaps, why does God through Christ Jesus and the Holy Spirit offer this inheritance to us? So that you may know hope. Paul tells the Ephesians, “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be opened in order that you may know the hope to which God has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” God has called you to hope. This is the glorious inheritance of God’s people. That in the face of loss, in the face of suffering, in the face of tragedy and evil, we might still have hope. We know that death is not the end. That’s part of why we celebrate All Saints every year. We know that there is this great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us and encourages us and supports us and nurtures us. And this great cloud is both people here present with us as well as those who have gone before us.
Kate Bowler was finishing her doctorate in church history at Duke while I was in seminary there. Not long after we each graduated, she was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. She’s about my age. She has a son right around my daughter’s age. In the midst of dealing with all of it, she wrote a book to her son that she considered to be a goodbye letter. It’s called “Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved”; it’s good, it’s short, I highly recommend it. Well, she’s still around, she’s received tenure at Duke, and she’s begun a podcast called “Everything Happens,” interviewing people about what they’ve learned during dark times. One of these was a father whose two year old daughter died in a random tragedy and one of the things he said that has stuck with me is that “just because there isn’t a body doesn’t mean there isn’t a relationship.”[1] Just because there isn’t a body, just because a person has died, doesn’t mean you don’t still have a relationship with that person. Many of you know that my last grandparent died this fall. Does this mean I’m no longer a granddaughter or that my grandparents are no longer my grandparents? No! It changes the relationship but it does not eliminate the relationship. Furthermore, I believe I’ll see my grandparents again in heaven. They are still part of the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds me, that surrounds us. That never changed.
And continuing in Hebrews, where that great cloud of witnesses is found, it says because they surround us and support us and nurture us, let us throw off everything that hinders us, get rid of everything that gets in the way, and run with perseverance the race that is set before us. Last week Paul said he had finished the race, he had fought the good fight, he had kept the faith. He knew his time was near and he was reflecting back on what he had done with his inheritance. He’s now part of that great cloud of witnesses and because we have this long history of the Church, because we have all these saints who have gone before us, we can keep the faith, too. We can run the race that is set before us, encouraged and with determination.
Also, because we have received this inheritance, we have a responsibility to hand it on, also. The tradition doesn’t stop here with us. The Church doesn’t end here, with us. We are here to pass it on to the next generation. And in case you haven’t noticed, Millenials are now all grown up. I’m talking about the next generation, which I’ve heard called Generation Alpha. We went through X, Y, and Z, and now what’s old is new again. One of my mom’s favorite hymns, to speak of things inherited, is one by Charles Wesley called “A Charge to Keep I Have.” It begins, “A charge to keep I have, a God to glorify, a never-dying soul to save, and fit it for the sky. To serve the present age, my calling to fulfill, O may it all my pow'rs engage to do my Master's will!”[2] This is our charge, too. Our job is to hand on the story, the old, old story of Jesus and his love, and the next generation will tell it in their own new way. Even that hymn, “I Love to Tell the Story,” recognizes that the story gets told in repeatedly new ways. It ends, “And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song, ’Twill be the old, old story, That I have loved so long.”[3] It’s going to take on different forms, and that’s ok. It’s for the sake of keeping the story alive. It’s because we serve a God who is ever doing a new thing. Our brains are trained to notice what’s different and be alarmed by it. However, each generation has always done things their own way. Church in 50 years isn’t going to look like church today, and that’s a good thing. Our job is to pass along the message in a way that the next generation will receive it. The form does not matter so much. In fact, sometimes the form can get in the way of the message.
We have received an inheritance that we are to pass on. We are the saints for the next generation of Christians. We’re only here because of those who have gone before us. And this isn’t an inheritance that can get used up and once it’s gone, it’s gone. Oh no. We pass on the same inheritance, the same story of Jesus and his love. It’s made a difference in your life. I know I would not be up here if not for the inheritance I received and for the saints who have gone before, nurturing, teaching, encouraging, and loving me.  So, let us rejoice in God’s saints and thank God for them!
Lisbon UMC altar on All Saints Sunday 2019


[1] Jayson Greene: The Language of Grief, on “Everything Happens” with Kate Bowler, https://katebowler.com/podcasts/jayson-greene-the-language-of-grief/
[2] UMH 413
[3] UMH 156