Statements of Faith; Acts of Trust

                                      Jeremiah 32:1-3, 6-15

 

 

          Ever notice that the Bible is a whole lot about choices? Noah has to ignore his neighbors and build the world’s biggest boat on dry land. Abraham has to choose to follow God, not only into a foreign land, but even to an altar where his son Isaac lies bound for sacrifice.  Moses has to choose God over common sense to go back to Egypt. Joshua gathers the people of God in the Promised Land and says “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Satan himself comes for Jesus in the desert and promises him the world. Jesus has a choice to make at the very beginning of his ministry. His choice will define what else will happen with that ministry. The Bible is a whole collection of choices made.

          The teachings of Jesus make it clear that all we have to do is choose God—choose Jesus—choose the gospel and salvation is our reward. There can not really be any doubt among Christians that we can’t earn our way. We have a choice to make. We can choose Jesus…or we can choose anything, anyone, else. Choices. They can save us…and they can destroy us. Every choice has consequences.

          Today, Jeremiah tells us a story about hope…and about choices. His story is about a land deal. We’ll come back to that. Right now, let’s talk about another story of hope. Reading Jeremiah brought a story to mind. There’s a film, about twenty years old now, called Hope Floats. It’s about a woman whose husband is unfaithful. She moves home with her daughter from the big city. Going back to the small town is tough on her. She has gone from the envy of all to the girl whose husband left her. She sees herself as a failure. The very fact that she does makes for a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. She wallows in self-pity in her mother’s house until one day, her mother sweeps in like a fresh breeze, throws open the windows, lets the sun shine in and says “Get out there! Get the stink blown off you!” Rousted resentfully from her self-pity, she begins the job of putting herself back together. On the way, she finds people still want to love her, still want to believe in her. She does indeed blow the stink off her and finds her way back from failure. She chooses to show faith, in herself and in others, and she makes her statement of faith, one step at a time.

          It is the eighteenth year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, the king of mighty Babylon. It is the tenth year of the reign of Zedekiah, king of the southern kingdom of Judah. Though Zedekiah was king, he had been pretty much placed there ten years before by Nebuchadnezzar. He was the last King of Judah. Jerusalem is under siege. Within a year, it will fall and the people of Judah will be carried off into exile. Jeremiah is imprisoned. Zedekiah has called him seditious for his views. He is prophesying defeat. He is even advocating that the people should get used to Babylonian life, as they will be gone a long time.  He says that the king himself will be captured and taken to Babylon. In the midst of such doom and gloom prophecy which, by the way, was completely accurate, the imprisoned prophet of a people under siege from a vastly superior force takes some very interesting personal steps. He makes a choice of his own.

          Jeremiah’s uncle comes to see him about a piece of land. We need to set the scene here to get the real picture. First, Jeremiah is “shut up in the court of the palace guard”; that is, he is not accessible. Second, his uncle apparently doesn’t live in Jerusalem. Third, Jerusalem is under siege. Fourth, real estate prices have plummeted. This is the recession to end all recessions. So when uncle Hanamel shows up on Jeremiah’s doorstep and says he want Jeremiah to exercise his right of redemption and buy a field in Anathoth, which is several miles outside Jerusalem, Jeremiah says this: “Then I knew that this was the word of the Lord.” Say what? There’s no way this can happen. Jeremiah is under guard. Jerusalem is under siege. Judah is under attack. And uncle Hanamel shows up against all odds and wants Jeremiah to do the dumb thing of the day. Invest in a piece of property that almost certainly will be claimed by the invading army, to which Jeremiah says, this must be a sign from God. Isn’t it funny how so often, divine guidance comes riding in on the train of everyday life? The very presence of Jeremiah’s uncle at the court of the guard was the guidance Jeremiah needed.

          So what does Jeremiah do? He buys a piece of land. The man is under arrest and the wolf is at the door and he buys a piece of real estate. He tells his scribe Baruch to “take the deeds and put them in an earthenware vessel, that they may last for a long time.” We know that works, because of our discovery of centuries old manuscripts in 1948 in earthen pots. We call them the Dead Sea scrolls. Why in the world would Jeremiah do such a thing? He answers that question for us. “For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land” [v. 15].

          Jeremiah made a choice. He made his own personal statement of faith in God. He trusted God’s words and he acted in faith. In that act, he made a huge statement to those around him. The Babylonian armies were literally poised for the final assault on Jerusalem. Everyone knew that their method of conquest included dispersion of the population into exile. And Jeremiah bought a piece of land. What a powerful affirmation of his trust in God! What a statement of faith about the future of God’s people and God’s promise!

          When I was talking about this subject with my wife Cindy, she reminded me that in the early years of our marriage, and when our finances were stretched, when my business was thin and the cash flow was meager, those were the times that I was wont to show up with an unannounced semi-extravagant purchase.  It was my way of stepping out on faith, of saying to myself and to her that God would provide and that I just needed to have faith and keep showing up. I think Cindy got worn a little thin by those acts of faith, but she never really challenged me on it. As I look back, I realize that maybe that was Cindy’s act of faith in her husband…that she was also making a choice, a choice to support me even when my behavior might have looked a bit irrational.

          God is always coming through for us. Isn’t it nice when occasionally, we step way out of our comfort zone, like Noah, and Joshua, and Jeremiah…and come through for God. Jeremiah bought that field as a symbol, a symbol of his belief in God’s promise. Don’t you just love the Jeremiah’s of this world! They stand up. They refuse not to be counted. They act on their faith!

This church has done something a little like that. We have banded together as God’s people and said that we worship not as the culture tells us, but rather as the Scriptures inform us through the Holy Spirit. We too have made a choice. Now that the choice has been made, it is for us to live out that choice. But we have the words of the Lord to guide us, even from days of old. As God told Jeremiah that houses and vineyards would once again be bought in the land, we might feel his presence here today, saying to us in 21^st century context:

Trust me. I haven’t left. I never will. And no matter how bleak it may sometimes look, your future is bright and my promise is real. You are my children! Keep the faith!

When we hear such a message, from whatever source it may come, may we join with Jeremiah and say “Then I knew that this was the voice of the Lord.” May we trust in him and step out on that limb, build that boat, buy that piece of land…invest in that faith!            Amen.

 

 

     Written On Your Heart

                                      Jeremiah 31:31-34

 

 

          It can’t be fifteen years, can it? As I wrote the date into this week’s bulletin, there it was. 9/11. Though a full fifteen years have passed, that day is scorched into my memory as I am sure it is yours. The news. The planes. The incredible reality that our own passenger jetliners had been hijacked to use as bombs. Those massive buildings collapsing in lower Manhattan in a heap of steel, concrete and humanity. Thousands of lives lost. For me, that may have been the day when I would have been just as happy with delayed news coverage. There was no time to process the images coming on the screen. It was a front row seat to death happening in real time. I will never forget. Where have fifteen years gone? What have we learned from that day as a country, as friends and neighbors, as Christians?

The lessons we have taken from that day are both good and not so good. I remember the president saying the next day that 9/11 had forever changed the course of his administration. I remember hurting personally, hurting for basically total strangers to me except that they, like me, were citizens of this country. I cried that day. I cried for strangers, for loss, for the futility of it all, to see people choosing to jump to their deaths rather than to burn to death.

You may be sitting there thinking that you wish I wouldn’t be so graphic, that it was fifteen years ago and you would rather forget. But how do we forget images so powerful, so charged with hate and spite and fear and so many more deep emotions? Maybe we should not forget. Maybe we should remember. Maybe in that remembering, we can search for ways to make such things go away forever. It seems to me that we have to try as Christians to understand why. Where did that hate come from? What can we do to neutralize it? Where is God in such times?

The prophet Jeremiah lived in some crazy times himself.  He started his career as a prophet while still a teenager. Josiah was king and a good king he was. Jeremiah would see little of that. Over his forty year career, his ministry survived at least four more, evil kings, being taken as a prisoner to Egypt, watching as Jerusalem fell to the Assyrians, and later the Babylonians, during which his beloved people were thrown into captivity. Jeremiah experienced his own 9/11 and so did his people, in a much worse way that Osama Bid Laden and company caused the United States to suffer.   The people of God would labor through a seventy year exile.

Jeremiah is so famous now that it’s hard to believe that he had only two conversions of which we know. In forty years of ministry, only two people, his scribe Baruch and an Ethiopian eunuch who served the king, responded favorably to his preaching. And yet Jeremiah persevered, prophesying a return to favor with God and redemption of his people.

If we mark such days or events as 9/11 as catastrophic, as game-changing, as horror and meanness in world-class proportion, even then we must realize that our 9/11 must take its place in a long line, from the flood of Noah’s time to the exile of God’s people, to the Holocaust in Nazi Germany, to the genocide of millions in Rwanda in 1998.  In the history of the world, there are many 9/11s. They all cause unimaginable hurt. They all germinate from hatred and misunderstanding and intolerance.

It was 7:59 a.m. when American Airlines Flight 11 took off from Boston’s Logan Airport, 8:14 when United Flight 175 took off, also from Boston, 8:20 a.m. when American Flight 77 took off from Dulles Airport in Washington, and 8:41 when United Flight 93 took off from Newark. By 10:07 a.m., barely two hours later, all four planes had been turned into missiles of destruction by the enemy. And who was the enemy? Men without a country, a flag, men without uniforms or an organized army or navy. But they were not men without a cause. And their cause was every bit as religious and just to them as the pledge of allegiance is to us.  

Fifteen years later, we have taken recrimination against those responsible for 9/11. Bin Laden is dead. So are many of his followers. A war was launched on Iraq. These things are the natural outgrowth of attacks on our country. They are understandable and expected. Our country is safer than it was on this day fifteen years ago, but what do we know?? What have we learned?

Today, in Europe and in the United States, many call for the closing of our borders. Many see that as making us safe and insulated from the terrors of the world. And yet, we do commerce with that world, from China to the Middle East to Mexico. We want what they make, but not who they are. Their presence threatens us. 9/11 is still fresh in our minds.

Last week, Cindy and I gathered with her sisters and their husbands for our annual pilgrimage to the mountains to celebrate the end of summer and the beginning of a new season. Like many American families, we live in three different states and have different ways of looking at the same thing. Because I am now in ministry, conversation invariably turns to religion at some point. In the den of that mountain home, our views shared Protestant, Roman Catholic and agnostic leanings. We range from convinced to questioning to skeptical.  One struggles with the pummeling of his youth by those who believed without question and stifled inquiry. The questions now come in a torrent. Why believe the Bible? It’s a book. We have millions of books. Why do three great world religions all come from the lap of Abraham and yet differ on the importance of Jesus Christ? How do you reconcile hard science with the story of creation found in the Bible? Why do the Catholics have a different Bible than the Protestants? Why do the Jews, the people of God, reject Jesus? The questions came hard and fast and angry because when a kid once wanted answers, someone told that kid over and over to quit asking questions. And yet they are all good questions that the best of Christians struggle with at some level.

Where is the failure? It’s not with that little kid so many years ago, or today for that matter. It’s not with God; that’s for sure. The failure, if that’s what it is, might be called intolerance. It might be called fear. It might be called a lot of things, but what we can’t call it is understanding, or empathy, or tolerance, or dialogue…or even just patience.

In the thirtieth chapter of Jeremiah, the prophet hears the word of God from God himself, and God commands Jeremiah to write it down. So what follows in chapters 30 and 31 is what is commonly called an oracle, a repetition of the words of God by the prophet. And God says for the people to settle down in their captivity, to build houses and assimilate into the population, for it will be seventy years before they are allowed to return to their homeland. No wonder Jeremiah never won any popularity contests!

But Jeremiah had much more to say on God’s behalf, for God made a promise in chapter 31. We call it the New Covenant. It is a huge insight into the heart of God.  Gods says through Jeremiah:

I will set my law within them

I will write it on their hearts

I will be their God

They shall be my people

They shall all know me

For I shall forgive their iniquities

I will remember their sin no more.

 

Think about it. God had made a covenant with his people at Mt. Sinai. Moses brought down the law in two stone tablets. That covenant required two sides. You do this and I’ll do that. You obey and I’ve got your back. This new covenant isn’t two way. It’s one way. God is going to do it for us. It isn’t carved into stone. It’s written on our hearts.

          So God reaches out to the exiled people of Israel and says I love you so much that I will not let you get away. I will forgive and forgive and forgive. I will forget what you have done to me and I will come into your hearts and you will know me. Hundreds of years later, God literally came down the back steps of Bethlehem and grew up as one of us in order to fulfill that New Covenant. Jesus became the agent of redemption in a covenant that was articulated through Jeremiah in the midst of the exile of God’s people. Doesn’t God speak in mysterious ways!

          When we talk about 9/11, we have nothing on God. He sent himself, God the Son, to a hill of death. Yes he was a man…but His divinity in all its perfection climbed up on that cross as well. If all the sin of mankind was to be hanging in the balance, then it had to be God alone who was big enough to pay that ransom. It has been said that God’s plan of salvation rested between two rough-hewn beams of wood.

          That plan worked. God was there then. God was there at 9/11, crying for us as he cried for his Son. God is here now. He will always be here. The question for us is when we will notice. When will we notice that God doesn’t make wounds—he heals them? When will we understand that the answer is not to retaliate, but instead to invite someone to dinner?

          Men are about nation building. God is about surrender. Men are about pride and independence. God is about peace and love. It may sound like a hippie slogan from the 1960’s, but it still is true. We cannot get our world neighbors to understand us while we are killing them, or undermining their centuries old religious practices. We cannot get safe by isolation. How will they know God if they can’t see God in what we do, in who we are?

          I think that in this world in which we now live, there are no more Christian nations, if there ever were. But there are Christians within every nation. We need to stand up and show what is written on our hearts.

         Going to Jerusalem

                                          Luke 14: 1, 12-35

 

 

          A fellow decides to throw a party, a big party. He invites all the best people. When the time draws near for the party, people start begging out. They have legitimate reasons. What does the fellow do with all the preparations he has made?

          A charismatic leader rises up. Lots of people follow him. His twitter feed is full. His Facebook wall is covered. And then one day, he says be careful. Make sure you know if you can handle this. Following me is a tough gig.

           A farmer wants to build a watchtower so that he can protect his crops from thieves and wild animals. The tower is no small project. Does he have the time? Does he have the money?

A political leader convenes his cabinet. The country has been threatened with an act of war. How does he respond? Does he have the political will to finish what he starts?

These are not stories on CNN or Good Morning America. Although they could very well be on the six o’clock news, they are actually part of the gospel of Luke---stories used by Jesus to get people to understand the choices we face in life and the cost of discipleship.

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Now, he’s been to Jerusalem before. Some think he went at least five times during his ministry alone. But this time is different. This time, Jesus is going to Jerusalem to fulfill the mission for which he came. Part of that mission was to live on earth as a man without sin, creating an example for us to follow. Mission accomplished. The other part of the mission lies on a hill called Calvary. The bridge to salvation, the road to reconciliation between God and mankind, that’s the reason that Jesus now travels to Jerusalem.  He has a date with a cross. Along the way, Jesus continues to teach. He teaches his disciples and he also speaks to the crowds that continue to gather around this rock star from Galilee.

It is the Sabbath. Jesus is having supper at the house of a Pharisee. Notice how Jesus tends to go where he will most certainly be provoked, because there is where he is needed most. Jesus tells the Parable of the Great Banquet, about the master who threw the big party and invited everyone who was someone. The time for the banquet arrives and people aren’t showing up. His servant goes to fetch some of the invitees, and the regrets start rolling in. One has a new real estate acquisition to check up on. Another has bought livestock and must tend to his new purchase. A third has just gotten married. And so the story goes. The servant gives his report to the master, who becomes angry and issues invitations to whoever is in the area, from the poor to the widows to the working stiffs. No pedigree is too small to be admitted to the master’s great feast.

Why does the master become angry over this state of affairs? After all, the folks we know about had good, sufficient reasons to stay away. Marriage was important enough to be exempted from military service in that day, certainly good enough reason to decline a banquet attendance. Every one mentioned has a good reason to be excused.

People from everywhere are then invited to the banquet. Poor, crippled, blind and lame fill the hall, and still there is room. People come in from off the highway, even total strangers. And the master says in v. 24: “For I tell you, none of these men who were invited shall taste my banquet.” Theologian Fred Craddock thinks that no longer is it the master in a parable speaking, but rather Jesus himself, saying to the Jewish leaders that now it will be the “unacceptable” of Israel and the Gentiles who are invited to the great banquet of salvation. It has become too late for those initially favored. In a great reversal of fortune, now the doors are open to the masses and the chosen are shut out.

Maybe Jesus was through with supper. Maybe he stepped out, excusing himself. Luke doesn’t say. At any rate, the next thing Luke tells us is that great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and addressed them. He says to them, this is not some big experiment. This is the real thing. If you want to follow me, you have to put that commitment above all else. Do your parents need you? Sorry.  Does your family, your church, your community, your wife, need you? Sorry. All those relationships and everything else is secondary.

Jesus gives examples. You don’t start a building project until you know the final cost. You don’t commit troops to battle in a war you can’t win. Now, Jesus knows his audience. It was neither the disciples nor the religious leaders whom he addressed. It was a great crowd that was fascinated with his mighty acts, but failed to grasp the significance of those acts. Jesus knew that many were only coming along for the spectacle of it all. Jesus warned them that while the reward of the kingdom is beyond magnificent, the cost of discipleship is high. Indeed, Jesus says that “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”

Why does Luke parallel these two stories? They don’t seem very related. One is told at a dinner, probably to adversaries, the other to a great crowd of hangers on who seem to side with Jesus, but don’t really know what to think. One is about the have’s losing out to the have-nots, the other about the have-nots being warned of a cost that is too great to pay. Is Jesus saying that if you once say no, you may be passed over?  Is this lesson of discipleship saying that if you dare to say yes, know that your life will be forever changed, that the cost will be higher than you might think? And Jesus talks about bearing one’s own cross. But Jesus has not yet gone to the cross. What is he saying? What is the common thread that Luke is weaving for us here?

The cross represented great suffering, the greatest known to man in that day. Taking up one’s cross could certainly have meant bearing up under the incredible burdens and hardships of life. And what about that common thread that unites these two divergent stories to different audiences? Well, whether you’re rich and going to a banquet or a farmer building a tower to watch your crops, there is a decision to be made and a cost to be counted. It’s not just the decision itself. It can also be the timing that is important.

Sometimes in life, we have to pick between the good choices and the best choice. There’s a saying you all have heard about friendship that sort of illustrates the point. It goes like this: A good friend knows all your best stories. A best friend has lived them with you. Do you see the difference? Do you want good…or best?

It’s easy to pick between good and bad, right and wrong. The better choice is clear. But what will you do when the choice is between good and best? There are points in our lives when picking the good thing may forever cast our fate away from the best thing. That’s why the master got angry at his invitees. They didn’t make the best choice, and it cost them dearly.

           Everyone who would be Christian is called to discipleship. In our lives, we have many loyalties: to family, to church, to community, to job. They are all important, all legitimate. But the claim of Christ takes precedence. Nothing comes before it. That claim redefines all other relationships, all other commitments.

          It is a big cost. A huge cost. For some, taking up the cross becomes much more than a figure of speech.  Know the cost and decide. It you wait too long, the door will close. If you say yes without understanding the commitment, you will only fail. Discipleship is not tricky. It’s just hard. What in life worth having isn’t! Nothing else, nothing else, carries the reward that comes from following our Savior!

         Entertaining Angels

                                          Hebrews 13: 1-6

 

 

          Hospitality is almost a lost art. How often do you entertain guests these days? How often does someone drop in on you just to visit? What would happen if they did? Some of you can remember the days before air conditioning—when everyone had a front porch and it was used generously in hot weather because sitting on the front porch was cooler than sitting in the house. The fringe benefit of all that porch sitting was the natural hospitality and neighborliness that resulted from it. People visited more frequently. It was a natural thing.

          The Bible talks about hospitality. In fact, the Bible makes a pretty big deal about it. You know, hospitality has a lot to do with generosity. Are you selfish with your time, your stuff, your food, your hearth and home? Or are you generous? There’s a kind of openness that goes with hospitality. Open your hands. Open your hearts. Open your doors.

          Some people have hospitality as a spiritual gift. While it is not mentioned specifically in terms of a gift in the Bible, it is mentioned as something Christians need to do and it is mentioned often. The thing is, Romans 12: 13 seems to tell us that all of us need to practice it. In a litany of the marks of the true Christian, Paul ends his list with this sendoff: “and seek to show hospitality.”

          Here’s some Greek for you that you might find helpful. The Greek noun for hospitality is philozenia, a compound word composed of philos, which means affection and zenos, meaning strangers. So taken in its original context, hospitality is affection toward strangers. And Paul says that every Christian should seek to show that. It seems that hospitality is just another form of expressing your Christianity, but in this form, it is usually done in your home.

          Now, some people, probably lots of people, equate hospitality with being a good entertainer or throwing a lot of parties and get-togethers.  They might say that so and so is good at hospitality because he or she entertains and plans a lot and does things perfectly and serves, from food to party favors. I suppose that these attributes are a form of hospitality, but that’s certainly not what the Scriptures are getting at.

          Listen to what Peter has to say: “Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace.” [1 Peter 4: 8-10]  In Peter’s world, hospitality is about service; the kind of service that pours forth from the love experienced through the grace of God. Peter reminds us that while each of us may have different gifts, all those gifts can be used in the framework of hospitality.

          There’s not much question in my mind that hospitality has to do with food. In Acts 2 when the early church is literally being formed, Luke tells us that the believers “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” [Acts 2: 42] The gospels are littered with stories of the disciples breaking bread together. Of course, there is the example of Jesus himself. When the time came for him to sacrifice himself for us, he commemorated that time with a supper, his last supper, in which in an act of unbridled humility and hospitality, he knelt and washed the feet of the disciples. When he appeared to the two men on the road to Emmaus, Luke tells us that his true identity “was known to them in the breaking of the bread.” [Luke 23: 34] In John’s Gospel, Jesus says goodbye to seven of the disciples on the shore of the Sea of Galilee over a charcoal fire with fish and bread for breakfast.

          The evidence is unmistakable. There is vulnerability and intimacy in having someone over to your house or your campfire. If you don’t believe it, go camping and see how many friends you make over an open fire. It’s hard not to be neighborly when you’re sitting in someone’s kitchen or den or roasting s’mores over a campfire. Food certainly helps, but there is more to it than that. Home and hearth offer the opportunity to be real in the place where we are most real.

          I’m wondering how life might have turned out for Rahab if she had not opened her home to that Israelite advance team in Jericho. Rahab showed courage under fire and hospitality in the bargain, and the lives of her and her family were spared. I’m wondering how life might have turned out for Boaz if he had not had the hospitality to share his crops with the gleaners of his fields. One of those gleaners, a Moabite woman, a foreigner, would become his wife—and the great-grandmother of King David.

          It’s a popular thing these days for churches to appoint a welcome committee. People are picked who are good at being friendly and they are assigned to do that to visitors. What does that do to the rest of us? Do we leave it up to the professional welcomers? Are we at liberty to ignore? What does it say to the visitors when they come back the next week and they are welcomed by the same people? Being hospitable is not a job description. It’s a way of sharing your Christianity with others.

          I’m also wondering about the account in Genesis 18, where three men come to the door of Abraham’s tent. Abraham senses that they are important and he acts accordingly. And yet, he does not know who they are. A meal is hastily prepared, and Abraham and Sarah show them the best hospitality they can on short notice. It turns out that those three men were the Lord himself and two of his angels. [Genesis 18: 1-15] That meeting turned out pretty good for Abraham. You just never know who will drop in when your door is open and so is your heart.

          Remember the conversation about the sheep and the goats, about how they will be separated? Strangers are fed and clothed. Sick are visited. Those who do so find themselves in the favor of God. Those who don’t, suffer God’s wrath. When they inquire about how they ministered to Jesus, they are answered in this way: Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my brethren, you did it unto me. [Matthew 25: 40]

This brings us to our scripture for today. It is an echo of those other scriptures  from the pastor of Hebrews that tells us the ultimate reason for hospitality. It is the breath of God, from him to us to the strangers in our midst. It is our way of un-strangering them.

There is a story about this group of Mennonites in the Midwest who were pretty closed about their lives and religious practices. As fate would have it, some Hispanics moved to town. As they had no church in the area, they began to attend the Mennonite church. There was a language problem, but eventually that began to be bridged. Eventually, in the public prayers, their stories began to surface: the hardship they had faced, the prejudice they lived with, the obstacles they had to overcome, the prayer lives they practiced. Strangers became friends, and the people found that they had much more in common with these strangers than they had ever thought possible. It changed the politics of that church. The chasm between stranger and friend is almost always bridged by story. Listen, really listen,  to someone’s story and then try to treat him like a stranger.

Hebrews 13, our passage for today, implores us to “let brotherly love continue.” It calls upon us all to “not neglect to show hospitality to strangers.”  And it reminds us that, in the same way that Abraham came to find out, sometimes we are entertaining angels unawares.

Who’s that knocking at your door?

Made Straight to Glorify

                                          Luke 13: 10-17

 

 

          At the local deed registry, it became necessary to make a rule about filing deeds. Before the recession, so many deeds were being filed that the registry couldn’t close on time. They had to process every deed that came in before 5PM. To do so kept the staff working well past closing time. In order to alleviate the problem, a rule was made. After 4:30, nothing would be clocked in. Deeds could be examined for recordability and left there to be recorded, but nothing would be done until the next morning. The rule helped the staff accommodate the volume and still go home on time. Then the recession came and the volume went to nothing. But still the rule stayed in effect. You could be the only person standing at the window at 4:30 and still, your deed would not be recorded until the next day. The rule is still there today, even though the need for it has completely disappeared.

          If you think that’s silly, listen to this: In Quitman, Georgia, chickens are not allowed to cross the road. In the state of North Carolina, it’s illegal to sing off-key. And in Rhode Island, you are not allowed to sell toothpaste and a toothbrush to the same customer on a Sunday.

          What do these and many other such laws and rules have in common? For one thing, I suspect that at the time they were made, there was a somewhat legitimate reason for them.  For another, there is now no question that such laws are just plain silly.

          The Jews had silly laws in Jesus’ time as well. They had laws for purity, laws for sacrifices, laws for the Sabbath. The Mishnah is a piece of Jewish rabbinical literature. It is the first major writing of the Jewish law carried over from oral tradition. The Mishnah lists 39 different laws concerning the Sabbath. Those laws could be extreme. For instance, to pluck a gray hair from your head was considered work and violated the Sabbath. You could spit on a rock but not on the ground. Spitting on the ground made mud and mud was mortar. Making mortar is work. That violates the Sabbath.

          Get the picture? What started out as a conscientious effort to keep the law of God turned into a silly demonstration of over-zealous rule-making. In today’s story from Luke, Jesus takes aim at one of those rule-makers.

Jesus is in the synagogue teaching on the Sabbath. A woman is there in the audience. She has what Luke described as a “disabling spirit.” She had had it for 18 years. It caused her to be bent over. We don’t really know what this disabling spirit was, but obviously it manifested as a physical disability. Now we all know that next, we’re going to hear about Jesus working a miracle.  This woman is going to be healed. There is power in just knowing that, but to pay attention to only the miracle and not to the lesson taught around it is to miss the blessing that Jesus has not just for that woman in the synagogue, but for you and me as well.

While Jesus is teaching, he sees this woman. She is bent over and cannot straighten up. Jesus stops what he is doing. He calls the woman over to him. First, he pronounces her free of her disability. Then, he lays hands on her. Luke says “she was made straight, and she glorified God.”

Now, the ruler of the synagogue is indignant. Jesus has violated the Sabbath. That is, according to the ruler of the synagogue, Jesus has violated the Sabbath by working. He laid hands on the woman. He healed her. Jesus is the healer so that is his job, and you can’t work on the Sabbath. The synagogue ruler actually proposed that Jesus confine his healing to the other six days of the week. But he didn’t have the nerve to say it directly to Jesus, so instead he said it to the people.

Do you know people like that? They don’t accuse you directly, but they turn to others and say their criticism and accusations, as if that were any less hurtful. Well, Jesus is not one to be accused, directly or indirectly. Jesus turns on the synagogue ruler and anyone else that may be siding with him and calls them hypocrites to their faces.  The way Luke tells it, Jesus’ explanation is a sort of word play on the terms “loose” and “bound.” Jesus says you loose a tethered animal from its bonds on the Sabbath and take it to water. And yet, you can’t do the same for a human being, a woman who is one of you, who is bound to Satan? And that because of a rule about not working on the Sabbath? Is a woman of God’s people worth less to you and your silly rules than an animal?

There is a story about a man who went bird hunting with a friend. The friend brought along his new hunting dog. Now this man was known to have a pretty critical nature.  He took a look at his friend’s new dog and said “that doesn’t look like much of a dog.” They walked through the forest until they came to a clearing by the lake.  A flock of birds was flying over and the hunters began to shoot. One of the birds fell into the lake. The little dog bounded forward and ran across the lake, his little frame barely touching the surface. He retrieved the bird and came back, still running over the top of the water. The friend looked to the man and said “What do you think of my dog now?” The man replied “Dumb dog. He doesn’t even know how to swim.”

Have you ever met someone like that man? Someone like the ruler of that synagogue where Jesus was teaching that day? They’re all around us. They are great at obeying rules or criticizing, but they aren’t very good at seeing the truth in front of their face.  The truth is that Jesus never broke the Sabbath. Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath. What Jesus broke were some silly rules, rituals made by men who never really saw the reason for the rules to begin with. Jesus never put ritual requirements above human need.

Don’t mistake the importance of this story. Jesus confronted small minded people with the big picture. That’s huge. If the church does not look at the opportunities for Christian service in this life in that way, the time will come when there is no mission to which to attend.  We have to see the big picture. That’s the long view that Jesus reminds of here.

But there is more. Jesus performed a miracle. In spite of the small minds with which he was surrounded, he rose to the task. He saw the woman, singled her out, and gave her the miracle she had probably thought could never happen to her. But it did, because Jesus saw her. And he didn’t wait, either. The synagogue ruler said in effect: “What’s one more day?” Jesus said: “It’s one day too many. Let’s loose her burden right now.”

The story is about a woman, but the narrative is about you…and me…and everyone who lets God see them. We may not feel it, but if we are not in line with Jesus, then we too are bent. We too are unable to fully straighten ourselves for the work to which God has called us.

Will you let God see you? Will you ignore all those silly rules from all those small thinking people and let Jesus pick you out? He will if you will just let him. Jesus called that woman over and said to her: “Woman, you are healed.” And she was. Luke tells us that she was made straight. Think beyond the physical disability of that woman in the synagogue. Think about all the ways you are bent over. There is nothing---nothing, that Jesus cannot heal. He can make you straight too. You just need to let go of the pride that holds you in place. It might have been going on for 18 years or even longer. Jesus doesn’t care.  He can loose you from yourself and whatever demons are in your life, and he can do it right now. There is no need to wait until tomorrow.

When that happens for you, don’t forget to do exactly what the woman did. Glorify God, for it is Jesus who can give you that peace you can’t find on your own, that healing which cuts to the heart of what ails you. Unfortunately, there are people who are never going to get that. Jesus even said that we have to have eyes to see and ears to hear. The gospel is not for everyone. But make sure that it is for you. Let him make you straight!    

Father of the Man

                           Genesis  18: 19,   Matthew 19: 13, 14

 

 

It’s time again. In just a few days, school starts.  Everyone who could has been on vacation to the mountains, to the beach, to Disney World. Everyone has bathed in the easiness and heat of the summer. The heat is still here, but summer is fading. If you don’t believe it, ask the teachers and teacher assistants gathered here with us. They went back a week ago to begin preparations for the coming school year.

Just a few minutes ago, we did a special blessing for the children and their backpacks now pressed again into duty. A few hours from now, we will all gather at the splash pad for one more fling at summer. But though the days of summer are still with us, thoughts are quickly turning to the beginning of another term of school, of the promise of a chill in the air, of the call to another year of learning in the classroom. For some, it will be their first time; for others, their last. For those in college, another step toward adulthood and jobs and responsibilities.  We are about to send our children off to learn. We are about to put them in the hands of others for hours every day. We kiss them goodbye and watch them leave the car or get on the bus and we entrust a major portion of our children’s lives to others in the hope and prayer that they will learn, that they will adapt, that they will thrive in that environment. But what we cannot do is to think that our job as parents is done. It has only become more complicated.

I was driving to the church the other day and was listening to public radio. A news piece was on about the move by some public school systems to have high schools teach a segment on the prevention of sexual violence. California has made it state law.  While the piece was airing, a mother in a nearby state called in to ask why such a course wasn’t taught in her state. She commented what a problem it was to have to teach such things at home, and didn’t appreciate the schools not teaching her children about why it is wrong to be sexually violent.

Whatever your feelings may be about the merits of such courses in the public schools, I hope your feelings about that mother are much more clear. She was actually advocating that the schools were the place to learn how not to be sexually violent, and that she would rather not be troubled with such a task.  Suffice it to say that such an approach is far from biblical.

In the 19^th chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus has left Galilee and journeyed beyond the Jordan River to the region of Judea, where he is in the midst of a large crowd, preaching and healing. Pharisees are there and continue to test him. He offers comments about divorce and then children are brought up to him. From the text, we might suppose that the children are bigger than toddlers and younger than teens. They seem to be brought up by their parents. The disciples appear to be telling the parents to keep the children away, but Jesus overrules the disciples. Bring the children up, he says. Don’t stop them. Let them come to me. It was fairly common practice in that time for children to be blessed by a “holy man.” It was common practice for children to be brought to the elders during the Day of Atonement for “blessing, strengthening and prayer.” But Jesus went a step further. He said that “to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”  Here’s a teaching moment. When Jesus says “such” rather than “these”, he is opening the field.  He doesn’t mean children literally, but he does use children to help illustrate what he does mean, which is that one has to come to Jesus spiritually vulnerable, even innocent, if one is to be able to enter the kingdom, indeed even to grasp the meaning of the kingdom. Jesus said it again in chapter 18: “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

So we send our children off to school and each year, they learn more about the world. They learn academically. They need those skills to get by in this world. They learn socially. They need those skills as well, but unlike academics, there will be learning that is unhealthy, prejudiced, biased, narrow, even just plain wrong. This is the collateral damage that we inflict upon ourselves in our education systems. There is no avoiding such exposure.

But the answer is not to hide our heads in the sand or to rest the presence or absence of our children’s ethics in what is or is not taught in the public schools. It is not the province of our educational system to teach ethics. Nor should we ask our schools to teach religious ethics. That is what the church is all about. That is why God devised and ordained family life as the cornerstone of relationships. The parents and the church cannot abdicate the teachings of Christian ethics and expect the church, much less their children, to survive.

One of my favorite poets is William Wordsworth. I have long since forgotten all the reasons I liked his work, but one line has stuck with me since senior English in high school. It comes from a poem entitled My Heart Leaps Up. It’s a short, simple poem about how Wordsworth has always felt joy when he sees a rainbow, a joy he has felt since childhood. He describes this long experienced feeling in verse this way:

So it was when my life began;

So it is now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

 

Then, Wordsworth makes an observation: The Child is father of the Man. Scholars argue about his meaning, but to me it is clear enough. Wordsworth is saying that as surely as events and behavior and experiences form one’s childhood, so too will they influence who that person becomes. What happens to the child is what makes him the kind of man or woman he or she becomes.

          Wordsworth is not unique in his sentiment. The book of Proverbs has something similar to say. “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”  The proverb reminds us that behavior is learned and that it starts early…as a child. It is founded on God’s covenant with Abraham, a covenant that every Christian parent should adopt. In the 18^th chapter of Genesis, as God debates whether to tell Abraham about his plans for Sodom and Gomorrah, God talks aloud about that covenant and says this in his pondering: “For I have chosen him, that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice…”

          It’s time to go back to school. That’s a good thing. But in the jargon of computer speak,  public school is an add-on, an app, to life. It is a place of learning, but not the place of learning. It cannot and should not ever assume to take the place of all the training and learning that takes place in the home and in the church. He has chosen us, parents, that we may command our children to keep the way of the Lord.

Children, listen to me. You’re learning all the time. You learn from teachers. You learn from your parents and grandparents. You learn from me. You learn from reading and fishing and playing and sports and even from your dog. Learning is your job. but there is another job I want you to begin to try to do. Please begin to learn to discern what is worth learning. What is discernment? It’s seeing with eyes of understanding, not just vision. When you see with discernment, you are making decisions about what is important. Not everything is. That poet Mr. Wordsworth learned early that seeing a rainbow made him happy. That’s worth learning.

Jesus taught us that children can see God the easiest. But you won’t stay children and you need to keep seeing Jesus in this world. As you grow, try to learn how to keep that which is pure and clean, and how to reject that which is ugly and will hurt you or others. It won’t be easy. But we will help you. We, your parents. We, your church. We, your friends.

Our prayer for you is that you learn to keep that which is of value to your life and to shed that which is not. No matter what you learn, if it means leaving Jesus behind, it’s bad teaching.

Are You Ready

                        Joel 2: 28-31a   Luke 12: 32-40

 

 

          It was called Operation Overlord, a term coined by Winston Churchill for the military operation that has come to be known as D-Day. It was the greatest land and sea invasion in the history of mankind. In the space of a month, over a million troops came ashore on the coast of France in the effort to liberate not only that country, but also Europe, from the grip of Adolf Hitler and Nazism.

          Some months before the invasion, Erwin Rommel, the great German general, was put in charge of defense of the French coastline.  He strongly believed that the Germans could only win the coming battle by repelling the Allies at the water’s edge. He saw the first twenty four hours as decisive. If the Germans failed to hold the coastline, the Allies would ultimately prevail.

          Some two thousand years earlier, the gospel of Luke narrates two stories told by Jesus. One has to do with the preparedness of those who serve. The other tells of a master who failed to keep his house secured from a thief. Matthew relates a parallel story in chapter 25 about ten virgins who are to prepare for a wedding feast and the bridegroom who will come to their door. Mark also shares the parable of the door keeper in chapter 13 of his gospel. These three stories all seek to warn us that we must live prepared for what may come without notice.

          Like the leaders who prepared for the D-Day invasion, the servants, virgins and the master of the house in these gospel stories prepare for the upcoming event. Each in his or her own way is charged with readiness. There is to be an event, a life changing, world-shattering event. There is no question that it will come. The question is when, and whether those who must engage will be prepared. Will they be ready for what comes?

In Mark, a doorkeeper is charged with the task of staying awake, waiting for the master of the house to return. In Matthew, ten virgins are to wait at the home of the groom for the wedding reception that is certainly to follow…and half of them are found wanting in the task while the other half are prepared. In Luke, the story is similar. The master is gone to a wedding feast and the servants are to wait for his return. Like Operation Overlord, the question is not whether, but when. In France in 1944, the appointed hour would only be known by the sighting of the expeditionary force. In Jesus’ parable in the book of Luke, that hour would be signaled by the return of the master from the wedding feast. By the time it is known, it is far too late to make preparations.

Luke’s second parable here talks about the householder and a thief. In this case, the owner must take measures to keep someone out, as opposed to the other stories where servants are looking to let someone in when he arrives. Don’t be fooled. The theme is not about open or shut doors, not about letting someone out or in, but about readiness; about being prepared. This is a message not just for each of us as individual Christians, but for our ministry together as the body of Christ, the church. Are we ready? Does the Christian walk of each one of us reflect that Christ can come tonight and knock on our door and be welcome to see us as we are? Does the ministry of this church say to all who would look our way, that God is on the premises and in the pews and present in the pulpit with the message that issues from it? If not, then we are like the master who opens the door to a thief rather than our Savior.

Operation Overlord was over a year in the making. Months before the invasion, soldiers began to gather all over that part of England. There were many details to be worked out, even down to building a fake army on the ground to fool the Germans. But when the time came, there was no turning back. Men and material came together as one as they fought their way onto the shore of France and gained a foothold never to be relinquished.

Seventy years later, we still remember the terms D-Day and H-Hour. They have come to symbolize that point in history when time seemed to stand still as the world held its breath. It was D-Day, the day when all the forces of freedom converged on the forces of evil in the world. It was H-hour, the moment when the invasion was launched, and regardless of weather or any other circumstance, the die was cast. It was too late to turn back.

Long ago, the prophet Joel spoke of a time when God will pour out his Spirit on all flesh. On that day, said Joel, your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. Listen to what else Joel had to say:

          In those days I will pour out my Spirit.

          And I will show wonders in the heaven

and on the earth, blood and fire and columns of smoke.

The sun shall be turned to darkness,

and the moon to blood,

before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes.

                                                                   Joel 2: 30-32

 

Joel prophesied about the same day to which Jesus alluded in his parables, a day when all shall be judged, when God closes the book on this great creation, settles all accounts and ends the age. On that day, the eschatological D-Day of creation, no one will be exempt. No one will have more time.

I have talked about a great moment in history because it may help illustrate what Jesus was saying. He talked in front of a multitude, but he seemed to be directing these lessons to his disciples. In fact, it even confused them enough for Peter to ask whether the parable was for them or for all. Jesus’ answer seemed to point toward believers and more particularly, religious leaders, for he ended this segment by saying that for everyone to whom much is given, much will be required.

Whether you understand preparation better by thinking about D-Day or by listening to Jesus talking about an absentee master or a thief in the night is up to you. No matter how you best understand it, the point Jesus made is just as true and factual today as it was on the beaches of Normandy in 1944. Jesus talked of the Day of the Lord, the day he knew that he would return. On that day and in that hour, whatever preparation has not been made will not be made.

I think about how many times in Scripture we are warned about the Day of the Lord. Joel talked about it. Daniel talked about the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven. Paul and Peter talked about it.  Jesus talked about it in each of the Synoptic gospels. Scripture teaches us that there will be a reckoning. And here we are reminded that, like D-Day, you are either ready or you aren’t.

Remember what General Rommel said? The first day would be decisive. Either the Germans would hold the coastline or the tide of the war would turn to the Allies. Rommel was prophetic. The Allies took the ground, and history has marked well what happened after that.  Long before D-Day, Jesus tells us the same thing about the end of history and, frankly, for the end that each of us will undergo personally. Be ready. You won’t get a second chance. When he comes, there will be no warning. The warning is now.

What are you doing with your warning? What are you doing with your time? What are you doing to be and stay prepared? What about your children? What about your neighbor? What if he comes tomorrow? What if he comes tonight? And even more poignant than that, what if your time comes before he comes again? Are you ready for your own D-Day?

In 1944, the Allies built a vast army and an armada of ships to take on the evil of Nazism. They drilled. They planned. They tried in every way to be prepared. Failure was not an option. They had to get it right. Today, our task is little different. We call our army the church. We call our armada the mission field. We are tasked with not only being ready, but with launching a war of goodness and love against the forces of evil in the world. We are not only the bride of Christ; we are also on the front line of witness for the message of Jesus Christ.

There is pressure in knowing that God can come tonight, that he will come without any more notice than we already have. But listen to this piece of good news from this same passage of Scripture:

          Blessed are those servants whom the master

finds awake when he comes. Truly, I say to you,

he will dress himself for service and have them

recline at table, and he will come and serve them.

                                                          Matthew 12: 37

 

Think of it. To the faithful, to the ready, our Savior promises us that not only will we dine with him…but that he will come and serve us! The banquet of life itself, served up to the servants by the Master himself.

          Are you ready?