Adoption is not an easy or cheap process. When my wife and I adopted our two daughters, we had to jump through all sorts of hoops and pay all sorts of costs just to be able to adopt. We had to have a social worker come out to our home and do a home study. She toured the house and made recommendations for us that we had to follow so that our home would be deemed acceptable. We had to undergo psychological, emotional, and family evaluations from that same social worker to check for red flags. We had to undergo criminal background checks complete with finger printing and the like. We had to join a support group and drive to College Station monthly to talk about the ins and outs of adoption. Then there was the adoption fees that had to be paid. Afterwards, there were the home visits after we had adopted the kids ensuring that they were healthy and taken care of. Finally, we had to hire a lawyer and appear before the judge. Fortunately, everything lined up. All the i’s were dotted. All the t’s were crossed. We were deemed fit guardians, and so we became the legal parents of our girls.
It was a long, drawn out and costly process, but it is one that I would gladly go through again in a heart beat because I love my girls. They were worth every hour of work that we put into the process; every mile driven to go to support group; every dollar spent on fees and attorneys. I have no regrets at all–even as they are entering into their teenage years. Oh, I may have joked that I’d turn them in for a refund if they got too out of line, but that’s not going to happen. They are my children. Period. And they know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Dawna and I love them dearly. We do not treat them any differently than we treat Kevin, who is genetically our child. We would lay down our lives for our girls just as we would lay down our lives for our son. Our girls will receive the same inheritance that Kevin does. When we talk about our children, we don’t say, “These are our adopted children and this is our child.” No. We say, “These are our children.” Because they are!
Talking about the adoption process is near and dear to my heart, and when I read St. Paul’s words from the fourth chapter of the book of Galatians, something is tweaked very deep inside of me. And I am sure that it is because I know exactly what it is like to adopt children. And the parallels jump out at me all throughout this short text as we now consider what it was for God to adopt us as His children.
Paul begins with these words, “4But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.” When I hear these words, I think about the hoops that Jesus had to jump through to pay for our adoption. You see, our adoption was not cheap! Anyone who says grace is free needs to make a qualifying statement. Grace is free for us, but it cost God deeply. The Son of God left his throne from on high. He took on the limitations of human flesh to live and dwell among us. He became the God who hungered; who was tempted; who thirsted; who slept on the ground; who worked with his hands; who endured the same things that we endure. This was very unbecoming for any God of the ancient world! Ah, but He didn’t just become like us–he succeeded where we failed. For he was born under the law; he was born under God’s rules and commands. And whereas we fail to follow them; we fail to complete them; we break them on a daily basis; Jesus fulfilled them. Jesus worshiped only His Father; Jesus remembered the Sabbath; Jesus honored his father and mother; Jesus did not kill; He did not steal; he did not covet. Jesus did what we could not do. He became spotless and blameless before God. He became righteous and holy. He could actually stand before the Father and say, “I’ve done what you asked. I’ve fulfilled your word.”
And here is where it really, really became costly for God to adopt us. For in order for us to become children of God, we needed to be as blameless as Jesus. We needed to have followed God’s commands as well as Jesus did. We needed to have loved God above all things; kept the Sabbath; honored our fathers and mothers; not murdered; not stole; not coveted. But we had failed. Sin had stained us. We were ensnared and held hostage by its power. But Jesus redeemed us. The word here in Greek for redeemed means to pay the purchase for a slave’s freedom. Jesus paid for our release. He paid for our freedom, as Luther says in the Small Catechism, “not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and with His innocent suffering and death, in order that [we] may be [wholly] His own, and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness.” Jesus gave up his holiness; his righteousness and became stained with our sin. The spotless lamb of God became dirty and filthy with all we had failed to do, and then he gave his righteousness to us. He gave his cleanness to us so that we could become children of God. Oh, this did not cost us a single thing, but it cost Jesus everything. See what love Jesus has for you! See what compassion Jesus has for you! See the lengths that Jesus has gone to redeem you! It cost him his very life! But he paid it; willingly, with no coercion. He loved you and wanted you to be his brother. To be his sister. He considered you family.
And now that is exactly what you are. You are sons; you are daughters of the Most High King. You are children of God. As Paul continues, “6And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’ 7So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God.” Now hear what God does for you to help you know that you are indeed His child. He sends to you the Holy Spirit. This is the Spirit of truth who comes deep into your hearts to mold you and make you into the image and likeness of Jesus. He comes into you to help you know deep down within the depths of your soul that you are loved and cherished by God. He comes deep within you to help you look heavenward and cry out, “Daddy!” just as Jesus looked heavenward and uttered the exact same word. When you are in doubt; when you wonder if indeed you are loved; when you wonder if God really and truly loves and cares for you; shut out the distractions. Still your mind. Quiet the inner thoughts and turmoil. And let the Spirit warm your heart. Let the Spirit penetrate your mind. Let the Spirit move on you and through you, and you will sense deep within that you have been adopted. You have been called. You have been claimed. You have been bought with a great price. You have a Daddy in heaven who loves you beyond measure.
And you will receive the heavenly inheritance. You will receive the same thing that your brother Jesus received. You will receive all the love and joy and peace that the Father can give. You will receive the assurance that no matter what happens in this life–whether it be good or bad; suffering or illness; or even death; God’s promises will come true for you. You will have joy. You will have peace. You will have patience. You will have eternal life. This is what it means to be an heir of God. This is what it means to have been adopted as His child. This is what Jesus came to earth to accomplish. This is why he arrived in the manger; so that you may be his brother; his sister. God has adopted you and paid a great price for you. What a tremendous gift. Merry Christmas. Amen.
Showing posts with label God's love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God's love. Show all posts
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Merry Christmas, Dilly Dilly!!
I’m going to start off this sermon with a little bit of a disclaimer: I don’t watch much television anymore. Hardly any at all, in fact. That’s an important bit of information to understand as I lead into my next point.
A few months ago, I started seeing some folks on my Facebook feed posting all sorts of things followed by the words, “Dilly dilly.” “The Houston Astros won the World Series! Dilly dilly!” “Jose Altuve won the MVP! Dilly dilly!” I’m like, “What is this dilly dilly stuff?” And I was too embarrassed to say anything either.
Then one day, as I was browsing an internet blog that I frequent called Intellectual Takeout, I saw an article titled, “Bud Light's 'Dilly Dilly' Commercial is Ingenious.” Well, that explained why I didn’t know what was going on. No television. But there was a link to the commercial on YouTube, so I watched it. Now, I am curious. How many of you have seen the “Dilly Dilly” Bud Light commercial?
Several. Cool. For those of you who were like me and clueless, let me give you a brief description.
The scene opens in a castle where a banquet is taking place. A guy walks up to the king and puts a six pack of Bud Light on the table in front of the king. The King says, “Sir Jeremy, you are a true friend of the crown. Dilly dilly.”
Everyone else in the room raises a bottle of Bud Light and says, “Dilly dilly.”
Then a lady walks up to the king and places a 20 pack of Bud Light on the table. The king says, “Madam Susan, you are an even truer friend of the crown. Dilly dilly.” The rest of the crowd raises their bottles and says, “Dilly dilly.”
The next person in line walks up and with gusto places this capped wine bottle in front of the king. The music stops. The king quizzically says, “What is this?”
The guy responds, “This is a spiced honey mead wine that I have really been into lately.” There is a slight pause until the guy shakes his head with a little smile and says, “So...dilly dilly?”
The king instead looks at the guy and says, “Please follow Sir Brad. He is going to give you a tour of the Pit of Misery.”
The guy looks at the king and says, “I’m sorry, what?” But before anything else can be said, one of the party guests yells out, “Pit of misery. Dilly dilly.” And everyone else says, “Dilly dilly!”
Then there is the ending credits where Bud Light is advertised.
Now, some of you might just be wondering what a beer commercial might have to do with Christmas and the arrival of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on earth. The two things seem to be miles upon miles apart and have nothing to do with one another.
But let me read to you an excerpt from the article that Intellectual Takeout posted:
http://www.intellectualtakeout.org/article/bud-lights-dilly-dilly-commercial-ingenious
Now, I’m not advocating that it is perfectly okay to go home and down a six pack of Bud Light. Please don’t take that away from this sermon–unless maybe you are a Bud Light representative and would like to thank me for advertising your beer and would like to pay me for it. No. Just joking. JUST JOKING!!! What I am trying to call your attention to is the idea the last thought expressed by the author of this article. No more top-down cultural impositions. No more imposing one’s will by power or force. No more living a life of fear of punishment for failing to obey the ruler of the land.
You see, the fact of the matter of Christmas is that God could have chosen to come to earth with all sorts of power and might. God could have chosen to come to earth being born to a king enthroned in power and wealth and majesty. Jesus could have been born and raised in such an environment. He could have become powerful beyond any king ever known. He could have wielded the power of God from His thone, and, of course, He could have been very, very good. He could have fed His people and ensured that no one ever be touched by hunger. He could have healed His people from all disease and sickness. He could have brought peace and prosperity to His entire realm with His godly wisdom. But He also would have had to institute swift and immediate justice. He would have had to use His power to impose strict punishment upon those who failed to obey His commands. He would have had to harshly deal with those who stole or murdered. He would have had to swiftly uphold His statutes and laws lest someone try to take advantage of Him. He would have had to protect His people and unleash His power upon their enemies, striking them dead or rendering them helpless with a simple word. While everyone would love this king’s power for good, they would have feared His power and punishment against those who wronged Him. They would greatly love, but also greatly fear His reprisal for their failure. This is what happens when you have a top down imposition of culture. And while God does want us to obey His commands, He does not want us to do so in fear.
And so, instead of coming to earth as the baby of a king, God came to earth as the baby of an ordinary young woman engaged to an ordinary man. God did not arrive in a castle but instead in a stable. He did not arrive cuddled in warm blankets by a roaring fireplace, but He was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger surrounded by warm hay. His birth announcement was not given by state employees to the nobility, but was given by angels on a hill side to common shepherds. God’s arrival on earth was not meant to impose fear, but to cause wonder–a wonder that would begin opening our hearts so that eventually we may see God’s great love for us.
And that love would be most visible, not in Jesus’ healing or teaching or providing food. That love would be most visible on the cross when He died for our sins. For this is truly how our fear of God is taken away. When you break the law, you deserve punishment; you deserve justice. And each and every one of us has broken God’s law–we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not loved God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength. We have pursued other idols; other desires and not kept God in His proper place. We have tried to justify ourselves and our actions saying that circumstances made us act a certain way or that other people caused us to fall into temptation. God’s anger burns hot against us because of these things. But Jesus, on our behalf says to the Father, “I will pay for what they have done. I will bear the cost of their sins.”
It’s not such a strange thought. I mean, what parent whose child accidentally breaks something in the store will have the store manager call the police to arrest the child for his or her carelessness? No parent that I know of. Most of us pay for the item that our child broke even though we were innocent. We paid our child’s debt because we love our child. The question becomes, does that child live in thankfulness for what the parent has done, or does the child continue with his or her reckless behavior?
You see, for us who believe in Jesus Christ, we look up at the cross, and we see what Jesus is doing for us. We see how He is dying for our sin; for the sin of the world. We understand that we are the ones who should be hanging there, and our hearts melt. Our hearts break with sadness for our sin, but then they are filled with wonder and admiration for the One who would give Himself for us. And we seek to put an end to our reckless behavior. We seek to put an end to our chasing after our idols. We seek to love and honor our King Jesus because instead of sitting in a throne in a castle, He has become enthroned in our hearts. We seek to follow His will and His law not because of fear of a top down punishment, but because we love Him so much for what He did that we do not want to dishonor Him and His sacrifice.
This love–this grace, is for the whole world. It’s for kings and shepherds. It’s for rich and poor. It’s for parents and children. It’s for Republicans and Democrats. It’s for craft beer drinkers and Bud Light drinkers. It’s for you and for me. This love begins being poured out on this night as we welcome baby Jesus in the town of Bethlehem. Let us rejoice that our Savior has come. I am awful tempted to end this sermon with “Dilly dilly!”, but instead I’ll say, “Merry Christmas and Amen.”
A few months ago, I started seeing some folks on my Facebook feed posting all sorts of things followed by the words, “Dilly dilly.” “The Houston Astros won the World Series! Dilly dilly!” “Jose Altuve won the MVP! Dilly dilly!” I’m like, “What is this dilly dilly stuff?” And I was too embarrassed to say anything either.
Then one day, as I was browsing an internet blog that I frequent called Intellectual Takeout, I saw an article titled, “Bud Light's 'Dilly Dilly' Commercial is Ingenious.” Well, that explained why I didn’t know what was going on. No television. But there was a link to the commercial on YouTube, so I watched it. Now, I am curious. How many of you have seen the “Dilly Dilly” Bud Light commercial?
The scene opens in a castle where a banquet is taking place. A guy walks up to the king and puts a six pack of Bud Light on the table in front of the king. The King says, “Sir Jeremy, you are a true friend of the crown. Dilly dilly.”
Everyone else in the room raises a bottle of Bud Light and says, “Dilly dilly.”
Then a lady walks up to the king and places a 20 pack of Bud Light on the table. The king says, “Madam Susan, you are an even truer friend of the crown. Dilly dilly.” The rest of the crowd raises their bottles and says, “Dilly dilly.”
The next person in line walks up and with gusto places this capped wine bottle in front of the king. The music stops. The king quizzically says, “What is this?”
The guy responds, “This is a spiced honey mead wine that I have really been into lately.” There is a slight pause until the guy shakes his head with a little smile and says, “So...dilly dilly?”
The king instead looks at the guy and says, “Please follow Sir Brad. He is going to give you a tour of the Pit of Misery.”
The guy looks at the king and says, “I’m sorry, what?” But before anything else can be said, one of the party guests yells out, “Pit of misery. Dilly dilly.” And everyone else says, “Dilly dilly!”
Then there is the ending credits where Bud Light is advertised.
Now, some of you might just be wondering what a beer commercial might have to do with Christmas and the arrival of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on earth. The two things seem to be miles upon miles apart and have nothing to do with one another.
But let me read to you an excerpt from the article that Intellectual Takeout posted:
When I first saw this, I laughed so hard to the point of nearly crying. This one ad brilliantly calls out the snobbery of craft brew culture and all the pomp that goes with it. Nowhere does it make a direct pitch for Bud Light. It just says exactly what we think but never say: Bud Light is a people’s beer, and that’s just fine because now the people rule.
So embedded in this commercial is a bit of the story [that]... No longer would the elite of the past determine the tastes of the kingdom and the way resources would be used. There would be mass production for the masses of people. It was a revolution in history, and one that would never stop.
And from a marketing point of view, this commercial deals directly with Bud Light’s real competition in the craft brew industry, which is making inroads by the day. Bud Light obviously cannot claim to have a better product. And guess what? Everyone knows that. Everyone knows what a Bud Light is: it is a beer-like drink that is watery but let’s you drink a six pack in an evening without any great disaster the next day. Sorry snobs, but the people like this feature.
...If you are in the know, you are starting to get the sense of a whole world in which the tastes and habits of regular people have become the prevailing cultural sense. No more ... top-down cultural impositions.
http://www.intellectualtakeout.org/article/bud-lights-dilly-dilly-commercial-ingenious
Now, I’m not advocating that it is perfectly okay to go home and down a six pack of Bud Light. Please don’t take that away from this sermon–unless maybe you are a Bud Light representative and would like to thank me for advertising your beer and would like to pay me for it. No. Just joking. JUST JOKING!!! What I am trying to call your attention to is the idea the last thought expressed by the author of this article. No more top-down cultural impositions. No more imposing one’s will by power or force. No more living a life of fear of punishment for failing to obey the ruler of the land.
You see, the fact of the matter of Christmas is that God could have chosen to come to earth with all sorts of power and might. God could have chosen to come to earth being born to a king enthroned in power and wealth and majesty. Jesus could have been born and raised in such an environment. He could have become powerful beyond any king ever known. He could have wielded the power of God from His thone, and, of course, He could have been very, very good. He could have fed His people and ensured that no one ever be touched by hunger. He could have healed His people from all disease and sickness. He could have brought peace and prosperity to His entire realm with His godly wisdom. But He also would have had to institute swift and immediate justice. He would have had to use His power to impose strict punishment upon those who failed to obey His commands. He would have had to harshly deal with those who stole or murdered. He would have had to swiftly uphold His statutes and laws lest someone try to take advantage of Him. He would have had to protect His people and unleash His power upon their enemies, striking them dead or rendering them helpless with a simple word. While everyone would love this king’s power for good, they would have feared His power and punishment against those who wronged Him. They would greatly love, but also greatly fear His reprisal for their failure. This is what happens when you have a top down imposition of culture. And while God does want us to obey His commands, He does not want us to do so in fear.
And so, instead of coming to earth as the baby of a king, God came to earth as the baby of an ordinary young woman engaged to an ordinary man. God did not arrive in a castle but instead in a stable. He did not arrive cuddled in warm blankets by a roaring fireplace, but He was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger surrounded by warm hay. His birth announcement was not given by state employees to the nobility, but was given by angels on a hill side to common shepherds. God’s arrival on earth was not meant to impose fear, but to cause wonder–a wonder that would begin opening our hearts so that eventually we may see God’s great love for us.
And that love would be most visible, not in Jesus’ healing or teaching or providing food. That love would be most visible on the cross when He died for our sins. For this is truly how our fear of God is taken away. When you break the law, you deserve punishment; you deserve justice. And each and every one of us has broken God’s law–we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not loved God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength. We have pursued other idols; other desires and not kept God in His proper place. We have tried to justify ourselves and our actions saying that circumstances made us act a certain way or that other people caused us to fall into temptation. God’s anger burns hot against us because of these things. But Jesus, on our behalf says to the Father, “I will pay for what they have done. I will bear the cost of their sins.”
It’s not such a strange thought. I mean, what parent whose child accidentally breaks something in the store will have the store manager call the police to arrest the child for his or her carelessness? No parent that I know of. Most of us pay for the item that our child broke even though we were innocent. We paid our child’s debt because we love our child. The question becomes, does that child live in thankfulness for what the parent has done, or does the child continue with his or her reckless behavior?
You see, for us who believe in Jesus Christ, we look up at the cross, and we see what Jesus is doing for us. We see how He is dying for our sin; for the sin of the world. We understand that we are the ones who should be hanging there, and our hearts melt. Our hearts break with sadness for our sin, but then they are filled with wonder and admiration for the One who would give Himself for us. And we seek to put an end to our reckless behavior. We seek to put an end to our chasing after our idols. We seek to love and honor our King Jesus because instead of sitting in a throne in a castle, He has become enthroned in our hearts. We seek to follow His will and His law not because of fear of a top down punishment, but because we love Him so much for what He did that we do not want to dishonor Him and His sacrifice.
This love–this grace, is for the whole world. It’s for kings and shepherds. It’s for rich and poor. It’s for parents and children. It’s for Republicans and Democrats. It’s for craft beer drinkers and Bud Light drinkers. It’s for you and for me. This love begins being poured out on this night as we welcome baby Jesus in the town of Bethlehem. Let us rejoice that our Savior has come. I am awful tempted to end this sermon with “Dilly dilly!”, but instead I’ll say, “Merry Christmas and Amen.”
Monday, January 16, 2017
Do You Know the Depths of God's Love?: Romans 5:6-11
Last week, we St. Paul revealed that one of the consequences of us being justified by grace through faith is that we can boast in our suffering. This was quite an unheard of bit of news as Paul explained: suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us or put us to shame because of the love of God that has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. Paul was showing how suffering reveals the things we can truly count on, and when all is cut away from us, our true character is revealed. And, if our ultimate trust is in Jesus–is in God, then we have a sure and certain hope that God will transform our sufferings into something good. We may not see that this side of eternity, but in the long run, God will take suffering and make good come out of it.
This week, Paul is responding to an unspoken question, and that unspoken question is: how do you know? How do you know God will do such a thing? How can you count on Him to make good come out of suffering? How can you have such a hope. Paul’s response is essentially this: Let me show you the depths of God’s love.
When I was in junior high, I played football. Our seventh grade team went undefeated and was district champions. It was frankly awesome, and I had high hopes going into my eighth grade year. And that year started off very well. We won our opening games, but then something happened. We began to lose. We lost several in a row, and I knew why.
Our practice times had turned into times of goofing off. I am a big, huge proponent of the idea that the way you practice is the way you play. My dad instilled that in me at an early age, and we weren’t practicing well. Every time we’d try to practice plays, there was laughing and cutting up. There was joking around and going through the motions instead of seriously running the plays and drills. And I pegged the ringleader of the disruptions and messing around. I set him directly in my sights.
Frankly, I didn’t like this teammate at all. Not only was he screwing up on the practice field and inciting the goofing off; I didn’t like him as a person during school either. In class, he would do just enough to get by oftentimes cracking stupid answers to questions and mockingly reading class assignments. Between classes, he would take a few drinks from a thermos in his locker, and that thermos didn’t have Coke, or tea, or water in it either. In eighth grade, he was constantly trying to lure girls into sleeping with him. Whenever we stopped after a football game and bought snacks at a convenience store, he loaded his pockets–without paying. I hated him. Yes, that’s the way I felt. And I felt powerless to do anything about his antics on or off the field.
Until one day at practice, that is. We just so happened to be doing a drill where there was one offensive player who was supposed to run the ball and score. There was one defensive player who was supposed to tackle the ball carrier. My teammate was on offense. I ended up across from him on defense. For me, the opportunity to exact justice had arrived. I knew this guy was going to loaf it. I knew he would clown around and go half speed even though we were supposed to be trying our best. I wouldn’t be holding back. I would be going full speed, and I would be hitting him as hard as I possibly could.
The results were predictable. It took the coaches between five and ten minutes to get the guy up off the ground. I stood there watching with no regret. No remorse. He was okay. Nothing broken or badly hurt. Just really, really bruised. In my mind, justice was served.
And that’s the way we generally feel. If someone has hurt us or has prevented us from getting something we desire...If we feel like someone has harmed us or those we love...if someone has done wrong to us, we generally want revenge. We want justice. We want the wrongs righted. This is what we do to our enemies!!! Revenge. Retribution. Justice. It’s what we clamor for!!
And we see such tit for tat taking place all over our society–all over our world. From the politics just down the road in Sealy and Bellville to the politics on the national scene, if decisions are made that go against our party or our organization, we pull out all the stops to get retribution; to cause the other party grief; to make them look foolish. It is the default setting of humanity.
And we usually believe very strongly that we are in the right. I was absolutely convinced of my stance and my role as the enforcer of justice. I wasn’t clowning around. I wasn’t stealing. I wasn’t luring girls to my bedroom. I was an all ‘A’ student who took my learning as seriously as my football. I was the good guy. We generally think that we are.
But looking back at these events that took place nearly 30 years ago, I have to wonder. Sure, my teammate was screwing up a whole lot of things, but after 30 years, who really cares about the won/loss record of an eighth grade football team in a town with a population of only 2300? What does it really matter in the big picture? And what would have happened if I had really hurt my teammate. What if he would have had to have surgery? He would be bearing the scars and the pain to this day. Does screwing up on the football field deserve 30 years or more of pain and scars? And yet, I happily inflicted bodily injury for my slights. I can imagine standing before the Almighty God and accounting for this act in my life, and frankly, I’m pretty sure my teammate would get off easier than I would. Put in proper perspective, I’m not as innocent as I seem, and my actions are quite filled with guilt–all because I wanted, demanded, and took justice into my own hands.
Put into proper perspective. That is the key. We need to put ourselves in proper perspective, and I think that if we do, if we look deep into that mirror; if we set aside all of the lies that society tells us–you know those lies. You deeply want to believe them. You want them to be true. The lies that say that you are perfect just the way you are. That there is nothing wrong with you. That you are owed respect and love and honor. When you believe those lies, then you start believing that you bear no responsibility for what is wrong in the world–it is the world that is messed up, not you. But those are lies. Everyone of us knows that we are not perfect. Deep down, every one of us knows that we are broken, and that the problems of the world are not out there alone. They are also in here–in the very recesses of our hearts. If we are honest with ourselves, we will see it. Just as when I am honest with myself now, I know the wrongness of my actions so long ago.
You may wonder why I am making you confront the reality of yourself. You may wonder why I am making you delve into the depths of your heart to confront your brokenness–your sinfulness, for that is the term we use in the Christian faith. And I am doing so for one reason and one reason alone. You have to know your brokenness so that you too can know the depths of God’s love.
Hear now St. Paul’s words again from Romans chapter five: 6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. 8But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. 9Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. 10For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.
Paul uses three words to describe us in this passage: ungodly, sinners, and enemies of God. These are not flattering words. These are not words that we like to hear as descriptors of ourselves. This is something we rebel against. We want to think that we are just. We want to think that we are good. We want to think that we are imperfect, but we’re not all that bad. Perspective. Stop looking from your perspective. Look from God’s perspective, and from that perspective, we stand condemned. Paul spent almost three chapters of this book showing us this very thing. Paul spent three chapters showing us that we seek out our own desires, our own ways, our own false gods. We do not seek God’s way? We rebel against God’s Law. We rebel against God’s commands. We thumb our nose at Him and refuse to worship Him as we should. We refuse to care for His creation as we should. We refuse to love our neighbor as we should. We think we are so good and holy and just, but we are seeing from our own perspective. We refuse to look at us from God’s perspective because we are ashamed of what we will see. We don’t want to see such a thing, because from God’s perspective we deserve His wrath; divine punishment.
“But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Let that statement sink in. “But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
While we were enemies to God, Christ died for us.
While we were ungodly, Christ died for us.
When we didn’t deserve it, Christ died for us.
Who does that? I mean it. Really, who does that kind of thing?
Who dies for their enemies? Who dies for someone who has hurt them deeply? Who goes the second, third, fourth mile to show kindness for someone who has wronged them? This is not human nature in the least. This is not how we act at all.
But it is how God acts! This is how God operates! This is what God did at the cross when Jesus became the atoning sacrifice for our sins! Christ died for us while we were still sinners. This kind of love was never heard of in the ancient world. No one died for their enemies. No one. For a good person, that was rare, as Paul points out. But no one died for their enemies.
God did. And Paul implicitly shows this as he talks about Jesus. As N.T. Wright says, “What Paul says here makes no sense unless Jesus, in his life and death, was the very incarnation, the ‘enfleshment’ (that is what incarnation means) of the living, loving God. After all, it doesn’t make sense if I say to you, ‘I see you’re in a real mess! Now, I love you so much that I’m going to...to send someone else to help you out of it.’”
Yes, Jesus is God. God died for us while we were still enemies. God showed us this kind of love.
And if he shows us this kind of love while we are enemies, what kind of love will God show us now that we have been added to His family? What kind of love will God show us now that we are no longer His enemies but now His friends? What kind of love will God give to us now that we are justified–put in good standing with him; and also reconciled–put in a right relationship? The answer for Paul is clear–if God has done so much when we were estranged from Him, God will easily take care of us now that we have been brought near.
This is the reason Paul says we can count on God transforming our suffering into good. This is the reason Paul says we can trust in God above all things. He died for us when we didn’t deserve it. His love goes beyond anything that we can imagine. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through Him.
God did not condemn you when you were His enemy. He died for you. He poured out His love for you. Will you now put your trust in Him? Will you now put your hope in Him? Will you long for His presence and His purpose in your life? Will you love Him as He has loved you? May the Spirit lead us all to respond, “Yes!” with loud and reckless abandon. Amen.
This week, Paul is responding to an unspoken question, and that unspoken question is: how do you know? How do you know God will do such a thing? How can you count on Him to make good come out of suffering? How can you have such a hope. Paul’s response is essentially this: Let me show you the depths of God’s love.
When I was in junior high, I played football. Our seventh grade team went undefeated and was district champions. It was frankly awesome, and I had high hopes going into my eighth grade year. And that year started off very well. We won our opening games, but then something happened. We began to lose. We lost several in a row, and I knew why.
Our practice times had turned into times of goofing off. I am a big, huge proponent of the idea that the way you practice is the way you play. My dad instilled that in me at an early age, and we weren’t practicing well. Every time we’d try to practice plays, there was laughing and cutting up. There was joking around and going through the motions instead of seriously running the plays and drills. And I pegged the ringleader of the disruptions and messing around. I set him directly in my sights.
Frankly, I didn’t like this teammate at all. Not only was he screwing up on the practice field and inciting the goofing off; I didn’t like him as a person during school either. In class, he would do just enough to get by oftentimes cracking stupid answers to questions and mockingly reading class assignments. Between classes, he would take a few drinks from a thermos in his locker, and that thermos didn’t have Coke, or tea, or water in it either. In eighth grade, he was constantly trying to lure girls into sleeping with him. Whenever we stopped after a football game and bought snacks at a convenience store, he loaded his pockets–without paying. I hated him. Yes, that’s the way I felt. And I felt powerless to do anything about his antics on or off the field.
Until one day at practice, that is. We just so happened to be doing a drill where there was one offensive player who was supposed to run the ball and score. There was one defensive player who was supposed to tackle the ball carrier. My teammate was on offense. I ended up across from him on defense. For me, the opportunity to exact justice had arrived. I knew this guy was going to loaf it. I knew he would clown around and go half speed even though we were supposed to be trying our best. I wouldn’t be holding back. I would be going full speed, and I would be hitting him as hard as I possibly could.
The results were predictable. It took the coaches between five and ten minutes to get the guy up off the ground. I stood there watching with no regret. No remorse. He was okay. Nothing broken or badly hurt. Just really, really bruised. In my mind, justice was served.
And that’s the way we generally feel. If someone has hurt us or has prevented us from getting something we desire...If we feel like someone has harmed us or those we love...if someone has done wrong to us, we generally want revenge. We want justice. We want the wrongs righted. This is what we do to our enemies!!! Revenge. Retribution. Justice. It’s what we clamor for!!
And we see such tit for tat taking place all over our society–all over our world. From the politics just down the road in Sealy and Bellville to the politics on the national scene, if decisions are made that go against our party or our organization, we pull out all the stops to get retribution; to cause the other party grief; to make them look foolish. It is the default setting of humanity.
And we usually believe very strongly that we are in the right. I was absolutely convinced of my stance and my role as the enforcer of justice. I wasn’t clowning around. I wasn’t stealing. I wasn’t luring girls to my bedroom. I was an all ‘A’ student who took my learning as seriously as my football. I was the good guy. We generally think that we are.
But looking back at these events that took place nearly 30 years ago, I have to wonder. Sure, my teammate was screwing up a whole lot of things, but after 30 years, who really cares about the won/loss record of an eighth grade football team in a town with a population of only 2300? What does it really matter in the big picture? And what would have happened if I had really hurt my teammate. What if he would have had to have surgery? He would be bearing the scars and the pain to this day. Does screwing up on the football field deserve 30 years or more of pain and scars? And yet, I happily inflicted bodily injury for my slights. I can imagine standing before the Almighty God and accounting for this act in my life, and frankly, I’m pretty sure my teammate would get off easier than I would. Put in proper perspective, I’m not as innocent as I seem, and my actions are quite filled with guilt–all because I wanted, demanded, and took justice into my own hands.
Put into proper perspective. That is the key. We need to put ourselves in proper perspective, and I think that if we do, if we look deep into that mirror; if we set aside all of the lies that society tells us–you know those lies. You deeply want to believe them. You want them to be true. The lies that say that you are perfect just the way you are. That there is nothing wrong with you. That you are owed respect and love and honor. When you believe those lies, then you start believing that you bear no responsibility for what is wrong in the world–it is the world that is messed up, not you. But those are lies. Everyone of us knows that we are not perfect. Deep down, every one of us knows that we are broken, and that the problems of the world are not out there alone. They are also in here–in the very recesses of our hearts. If we are honest with ourselves, we will see it. Just as when I am honest with myself now, I know the wrongness of my actions so long ago.
You may wonder why I am making you confront the reality of yourself. You may wonder why I am making you delve into the depths of your heart to confront your brokenness–your sinfulness, for that is the term we use in the Christian faith. And I am doing so for one reason and one reason alone. You have to know your brokenness so that you too can know the depths of God’s love.
Hear now St. Paul’s words again from Romans chapter five: 6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. 8But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. 9Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. 10For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.
Paul uses three words to describe us in this passage: ungodly, sinners, and enemies of God. These are not flattering words. These are not words that we like to hear as descriptors of ourselves. This is something we rebel against. We want to think that we are just. We want to think that we are good. We want to think that we are imperfect, but we’re not all that bad. Perspective. Stop looking from your perspective. Look from God’s perspective, and from that perspective, we stand condemned. Paul spent almost three chapters of this book showing us this very thing. Paul spent three chapters showing us that we seek out our own desires, our own ways, our own false gods. We do not seek God’s way? We rebel against God’s Law. We rebel against God’s commands. We thumb our nose at Him and refuse to worship Him as we should. We refuse to care for His creation as we should. We refuse to love our neighbor as we should. We think we are so good and holy and just, but we are seeing from our own perspective. We refuse to look at us from God’s perspective because we are ashamed of what we will see. We don’t want to see such a thing, because from God’s perspective we deserve His wrath; divine punishment.
“But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Let that statement sink in. “But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
While we were enemies to God, Christ died for us.
While we were ungodly, Christ died for us.
When we didn’t deserve it, Christ died for us.
Who does that? I mean it. Really, who does that kind of thing?
Who dies for their enemies? Who dies for someone who has hurt them deeply? Who goes the second, third, fourth mile to show kindness for someone who has wronged them? This is not human nature in the least. This is not how we act at all.
But it is how God acts! This is how God operates! This is what God did at the cross when Jesus became the atoning sacrifice for our sins! Christ died for us while we were still sinners. This kind of love was never heard of in the ancient world. No one died for their enemies. No one. For a good person, that was rare, as Paul points out. But no one died for their enemies.
God did. And Paul implicitly shows this as he talks about Jesus. As N.T. Wright says, “What Paul says here makes no sense unless Jesus, in his life and death, was the very incarnation, the ‘enfleshment’ (that is what incarnation means) of the living, loving God. After all, it doesn’t make sense if I say to you, ‘I see you’re in a real mess! Now, I love you so much that I’m going to...to send someone else to help you out of it.’”
Yes, Jesus is God. God died for us while we were still enemies. God showed us this kind of love.
And if he shows us this kind of love while we are enemies, what kind of love will God show us now that we have been added to His family? What kind of love will God show us now that we are no longer His enemies but now His friends? What kind of love will God give to us now that we are justified–put in good standing with him; and also reconciled–put in a right relationship? The answer for Paul is clear–if God has done so much when we were estranged from Him, God will easily take care of us now that we have been brought near.
This is the reason Paul says we can count on God transforming our suffering into good. This is the reason Paul says we can trust in God above all things. He died for us when we didn’t deserve it. His love goes beyond anything that we can imagine. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through Him.
God did not condemn you when you were His enemy. He died for you. He poured out His love for you. Will you now put your trust in Him? Will you now put your hope in Him? Will you long for His presence and His purpose in your life? Will you love Him as He has loved you? May the Spirit lead us all to respond, “Yes!” with loud and reckless abandon. Amen.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
No, Dammit, That's Not How God Works!
It's four hours I will not soon forget.
The County Sheriff is a member of my congregation, and he asked me to visit a local family who suffered a tragic loss. In a small community like the one I am a part of, when tragedy strikes, everyone is affected. When that tragedy involves horrific death and suspected murder, folks get sent reeling--especially in a place where "that kind of stuff doesn't happen."
As the pastor of the only congregation within a radius of 11 miles, essentially, I am the community pastor--not just the pastor of St. John Lutheran Church. Sure, not everyone in the community is a member of my congregation, but I serve this community, and we are charged with reaching out into this community to deal with its needs.
The Sheriff sensed a need, and he asked me to go.
I went.
Making cold calls to a stranger's home is not the most comfortable thing in the world. You never really know how you will be welcomed--or not welcomed for that matter. Fortunately, the folks in this case were very receptive. They had many within our community reach out to them during their time of trial. At first, I was just one more in a long line.
But I am a pastor. In times like these, whether or not I like it, I represent God. I'm a messenger. That can make a big difference.
Working through grief is an exhaustive process. Working through anger and frustration and pain is an exhausting process, but you have to stick with it. You can't just spend 15 minutes, tell folks we're thinking of you, offer further assistance if they need it, say a quick prayer and walk out the door thinking you've really dealt with things. To really make any kind of impact, you've got to stay.
And I did. The process was overwhelming at times, but there was a lot to work through.
The family was not only dealing with the grief of losing their loved one, but there was more. Much, much more. This death was not the only tragedy experienced. A son/grandson had died while drinking and driving. Years before rape had happened. All of these wounds were touched by the tragic events of a few nights before. Accumulated guilt, anger, sadness, and frustration bubbled--no, erupted--while I was there.
It didn't bother me to be a part of such an event. Sometimes, the doctor has to lance the boil to get the infection out. Only then, can healing salve be administered.
"I've spent the last two years angry with God. I've cussed Him. I was told He made my son die so that I would get my life straight. Is that right?"
I hate it when folks say such things.
Don't get me wrong. I know where it comes from. I know in the Older Testament, there are numerous occasions of God punishing people for their sins. There are numerous instances of death and despair and illness falling upon folks who disobeyed God's commands. David had his son die. The Israelites had serpents sent among them to bite them. The ground opened up and swallowed those who sought to lead a rebellion against Moses. And so on and so forth. In the Newer Book, there is even a scene of God's vengeance poured out against Ananias and Sapphira. One can create this image of God who punishes us for our sins and indeed sends us messages of death so that we get our lives straight. I understand folks who make sense out of tragedy by saying such things, but this is not the narrative revealed through Jesus Christ.
"No," I replied. "God didn't kill your son to get your attention so that you would become a better person. God doesn't operate that way anymore."
Oh, the conversation wound around more and more.
"We are no longer under the discipline of the Law. Mind you, the Law is still in effect, but we are no longer under its discipline."
"God was not responsible for your son's death. The reason your son is dead is he drank, drove into oncoming traffic and hit an 18 wheeler."
"So, he's responsible for his own death?"
"It may sound harsh to say it, but yes. I have to tell the truth. Just like God is not responsible for your sister's death. The person who killed her is."
"God does not make us suffer so that we 'get our lives together.' God does not say, 'Get your stuff together or else you will go to hell.' God says, 'I love you. I died for you. Now, become obedient to me.' God's love always comes first. He loves you now. He always has."
"Thank you. For the last two years, I've hated God."
"I bet you have. But He's never hated you."
Enough said.
The County Sheriff is a member of my congregation, and he asked me to visit a local family who suffered a tragic loss. In a small community like the one I am a part of, when tragedy strikes, everyone is affected. When that tragedy involves horrific death and suspected murder, folks get sent reeling--especially in a place where "that kind of stuff doesn't happen."
As the pastor of the only congregation within a radius of 11 miles, essentially, I am the community pastor--not just the pastor of St. John Lutheran Church. Sure, not everyone in the community is a member of my congregation, but I serve this community, and we are charged with reaching out into this community to deal with its needs.
The Sheriff sensed a need, and he asked me to go.
I went.
Making cold calls to a stranger's home is not the most comfortable thing in the world. You never really know how you will be welcomed--or not welcomed for that matter. Fortunately, the folks in this case were very receptive. They had many within our community reach out to them during their time of trial. At first, I was just one more in a long line.
But I am a pastor. In times like these, whether or not I like it, I represent God. I'm a messenger. That can make a big difference.
Working through grief is an exhaustive process. Working through anger and frustration and pain is an exhausting process, but you have to stick with it. You can't just spend 15 minutes, tell folks we're thinking of you, offer further assistance if they need it, say a quick prayer and walk out the door thinking you've really dealt with things. To really make any kind of impact, you've got to stay.
And I did. The process was overwhelming at times, but there was a lot to work through.
The family was not only dealing with the grief of losing their loved one, but there was more. Much, much more. This death was not the only tragedy experienced. A son/grandson had died while drinking and driving. Years before rape had happened. All of these wounds were touched by the tragic events of a few nights before. Accumulated guilt, anger, sadness, and frustration bubbled--no, erupted--while I was there.
It didn't bother me to be a part of such an event. Sometimes, the doctor has to lance the boil to get the infection out. Only then, can healing salve be administered.
"I've spent the last two years angry with God. I've cussed Him. I was told He made my son die so that I would get my life straight. Is that right?"
I hate it when folks say such things.
Don't get me wrong. I know where it comes from. I know in the Older Testament, there are numerous occasions of God punishing people for their sins. There are numerous instances of death and despair and illness falling upon folks who disobeyed God's commands. David had his son die. The Israelites had serpents sent among them to bite them. The ground opened up and swallowed those who sought to lead a rebellion against Moses. And so on and so forth. In the Newer Book, there is even a scene of God's vengeance poured out against Ananias and Sapphira. One can create this image of God who punishes us for our sins and indeed sends us messages of death so that we get our lives straight. I understand folks who make sense out of tragedy by saying such things, but this is not the narrative revealed through Jesus Christ.
"No," I replied. "God didn't kill your son to get your attention so that you would become a better person. God doesn't operate that way anymore."
Oh, the conversation wound around more and more.
"We are no longer under the discipline of the Law. Mind you, the Law is still in effect, but we are no longer under its discipline."
"God was not responsible for your son's death. The reason your son is dead is he drank, drove into oncoming traffic and hit an 18 wheeler."
"So, he's responsible for his own death?"
"It may sound harsh to say it, but yes. I have to tell the truth. Just like God is not responsible for your sister's death. The person who killed her is."
"God does not make us suffer so that we 'get our lives together.' God does not say, 'Get your stuff together or else you will go to hell.' God says, 'I love you. I died for you. Now, become obedient to me.' God's love always comes first. He loves you now. He always has."
"Thank you. For the last two years, I've hated God."
"I bet you have. But He's never hated you."
Enough said.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Behold the Lamb of God!
John the Baptist cried out, “Behold, here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Recently, I watched a debate on Youtube between an atheist philosopher and a Christian apologist. The conversation was fascinating as these two gentlemen outlined their reasons for belief and non-belief. Particularly fascinating was one of the arguments the philosopher made against Christianity. I will paraphrase what was said and will not get the quote exact.
“I don’t find the idea of taking another’s punishment too satisfactory,” the philosopher said. “Let’s say we travel back in time when caning was considered a legitimate type of punishment. We know that’s pretty barbaric now, but let’s just ride with it for the sake of argument. Let’s say a boy gets caught doing something in a class, and he is going to be caned for breaking the rule. There is a girl in the class who decides she can take the punishment and that she’s been good enough for one reason or another. She tells the teacher she volunteers to take the boy’s place. The teacher, for one reason or another, doesn’t care who he canes, so the teacher accepts the proposal. The girl gets caned for the boy and everyone is satisfied. That doesn’t seem like too compelling an argument for me.”
Unfortunately, because of the limitations of the debate, the Christian apologist isn’t allowed to respond in full. He only gets one statement in, “Arguments from analogy tend to fall short.” I wish he’d of had more time to expand on that thought. I’d have loved to hear his response. Because I’d love to hear how it matches up with my own. For if I were engaged in that debate and had the opportunity to follow up on the philosopher’s comment, I would have said thus:
I actually agree with you that your analogy isn’t exactly satisfying. It doesn’t grab one’s attention too well, and it certainly makes a mockery out of justice–at least in the form in which you presented it. But I will hold your analogy. I won’t change the basic story. I would simply like to add to it.
Let’s add the fact that the girl in the story has loved the boy who was caught breaking the rule for a long, long time. For years, she had a crush on him, and she willingly made her intentions known to him. She told him over and over of her love. She would make him gifts. She would help him at various times and places.
The boy was rather wishy-washy. At times, he would welcome the girl’s advances. At times, he would reciprocate her love. But more often than not, another girl would catch his attention, and he would go flying off. He’d come back from time to time, and the girl who loved him always took him back hoping he’d stay with her for good. Yet it never seemed to take place. The boy never could fully commit to the girl.
The girl’s friends mocked her. “You could do better. Forget that boy, he isn’t good enough for you. Give up on him. Find a better boy.” But the girl refused to do such a thing. Even though it made perfect sense to find someone else, her heart was consumed for love of this boy.
And so, when the boy was caught and would suffer caning, dreadful thoughts entered the girl’s head. She couldn’t bear the thought of her love suffering all that pain and agony. She couldn’t bear the thought of him having to go through that ordeal. She volunteered to take his place. She pleaded with the teacher until he relented. “But I won’t take it easy on you,” he said.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she replied.
When her friends found out what she would do, they thought her absolutely mad. “Why in the world are you doing this? Why would you put yourself through all that pain and agony? You are certifiable! He absolutely, positively isn’t worth this.” Others just shook their heads in bewilderment.
“But I love him,” was all the girl could say.
The boy, for his part was quite leery of his impending punishment. He wasn’t altogether sure he could withstand caning. He had bragged to others about how strong he was and how he’d never scream or cry out. But he had seen others caned. He knew how even the strongest would end up screaming in agony begging the punisher to stop. Dread started to fill his heart as the day drew nigh for his sentence to be carried out.
But then, he heard the news. He would receive no punishment. Someone had volunteered to take his place. Sighs of relief, but also a new sense: a sense of wonderment. Who would take his place? Who had volunteered to receive the punishment due for him?
The day of the sentence came, and the boy heard the cries of agony as the caning took place. The smacks of the cane resounded through the schoolyard. Soon, it was class time. All the students headed to their respective rooms, and when the boy entered, he saw the girl sitting hunched over in pain. He saw the red streaks of blood seeping through her shirt. He then knew who volunteered to take his punishment–the one who had professed her love to him time and time again. A love that he had played and toyed with but had never fully reciprocated.
At this point, I would pause for dramatic effect. I would shift in my seat and look at the audience in full. Then, I would continue letting every word sink in:
That boy now has a choice. A very important choice. He can simply walk away from the situation. He can thumb his nose at what that girl did for him and continue to do the same sorts of things he did before. Or, he can truly recognize this girl’s tremendous love for him. He can recognize the pain and suffering she undertook for him simply because she loved him. He can recognize he didn’t deserve what she did for him, and he can ponder all those times he let her down by playing with her and then chasing after other girls. He can realize his wrongs and then spend every day giving thanks to that girl for what she did for him and committing himself to loving her as much as she loved him.
That kind of love has a deep affect on people. It’s the kind of love God has for you and for me.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.
“Behold! Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Jesus took your sin. Jesus took your place. Jesus took your punishment. How you respond is how you choose to Live God’s Word Daily. Amen.
Recently, I watched a debate on Youtube between an atheist philosopher and a Christian apologist. The conversation was fascinating as these two gentlemen outlined their reasons for belief and non-belief. Particularly fascinating was one of the arguments the philosopher made against Christianity. I will paraphrase what was said and will not get the quote exact.
“I don’t find the idea of taking another’s punishment too satisfactory,” the philosopher said. “Let’s say we travel back in time when caning was considered a legitimate type of punishment. We know that’s pretty barbaric now, but let’s just ride with it for the sake of argument. Let’s say a boy gets caught doing something in a class, and he is going to be caned for breaking the rule. There is a girl in the class who decides she can take the punishment and that she’s been good enough for one reason or another. She tells the teacher she volunteers to take the boy’s place. The teacher, for one reason or another, doesn’t care who he canes, so the teacher accepts the proposal. The girl gets caned for the boy and everyone is satisfied. That doesn’t seem like too compelling an argument for me.”
Unfortunately, because of the limitations of the debate, the Christian apologist isn’t allowed to respond in full. He only gets one statement in, “Arguments from analogy tend to fall short.” I wish he’d of had more time to expand on that thought. I’d have loved to hear his response. Because I’d love to hear how it matches up with my own. For if I were engaged in that debate and had the opportunity to follow up on the philosopher’s comment, I would have said thus:
I actually agree with you that your analogy isn’t exactly satisfying. It doesn’t grab one’s attention too well, and it certainly makes a mockery out of justice–at least in the form in which you presented it. But I will hold your analogy. I won’t change the basic story. I would simply like to add to it.
Let’s add the fact that the girl in the story has loved the boy who was caught breaking the rule for a long, long time. For years, she had a crush on him, and she willingly made her intentions known to him. She told him over and over of her love. She would make him gifts. She would help him at various times and places.
The boy was rather wishy-washy. At times, he would welcome the girl’s advances. At times, he would reciprocate her love. But more often than not, another girl would catch his attention, and he would go flying off. He’d come back from time to time, and the girl who loved him always took him back hoping he’d stay with her for good. Yet it never seemed to take place. The boy never could fully commit to the girl.
The girl’s friends mocked her. “You could do better. Forget that boy, he isn’t good enough for you. Give up on him. Find a better boy.” But the girl refused to do such a thing. Even though it made perfect sense to find someone else, her heart was consumed for love of this boy.
And so, when the boy was caught and would suffer caning, dreadful thoughts entered the girl’s head. She couldn’t bear the thought of her love suffering all that pain and agony. She couldn’t bear the thought of him having to go through that ordeal. She volunteered to take his place. She pleaded with the teacher until he relented. “But I won’t take it easy on you,” he said.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she replied.
When her friends found out what she would do, they thought her absolutely mad. “Why in the world are you doing this? Why would you put yourself through all that pain and agony? You are certifiable! He absolutely, positively isn’t worth this.” Others just shook their heads in bewilderment.
“But I love him,” was all the girl could say.
The boy, for his part was quite leery of his impending punishment. He wasn’t altogether sure he could withstand caning. He had bragged to others about how strong he was and how he’d never scream or cry out. But he had seen others caned. He knew how even the strongest would end up screaming in agony begging the punisher to stop. Dread started to fill his heart as the day drew nigh for his sentence to be carried out.
But then, he heard the news. He would receive no punishment. Someone had volunteered to take his place. Sighs of relief, but also a new sense: a sense of wonderment. Who would take his place? Who had volunteered to receive the punishment due for him?
The day of the sentence came, and the boy heard the cries of agony as the caning took place. The smacks of the cane resounded through the schoolyard. Soon, it was class time. All the students headed to their respective rooms, and when the boy entered, he saw the girl sitting hunched over in pain. He saw the red streaks of blood seeping through her shirt. He then knew who volunteered to take his punishment–the one who had professed her love to him time and time again. A love that he had played and toyed with but had never fully reciprocated.
At this point, I would pause for dramatic effect. I would shift in my seat and look at the audience in full. Then, I would continue letting every word sink in:
That boy now has a choice. A very important choice. He can simply walk away from the situation. He can thumb his nose at what that girl did for him and continue to do the same sorts of things he did before. Or, he can truly recognize this girl’s tremendous love for him. He can recognize the pain and suffering she undertook for him simply because she loved him. He can recognize he didn’t deserve what she did for him, and he can ponder all those times he let her down by playing with her and then chasing after other girls. He can realize his wrongs and then spend every day giving thanks to that girl for what she did for him and committing himself to loving her as much as she loved him.
That kind of love has a deep affect on people. It’s the kind of love God has for you and for me.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son so that all those who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but so that the world may be saved through Him.
“Behold! Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Jesus took your sin. Jesus took your place. Jesus took your punishment. How you respond is how you choose to Live God’s Word Daily. Amen.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Good News for Everyone
I wish I could remember the exact setting where I heard the teaching. Time has clouded my memory. I'm sure it will continue to happen. Sometimes I wish I had a pensieve as Dumbledore did in the Harry Potter novels. That way, I could dig through and find all the memories I know are there and revisit them in their detail. Forgive me for forgetting the entirety of the context, but the teaching was very important.
I remember clearly a conversation about reading the Bible. The presenter/teacher said with conviction, "As you read the Bible, much of what we read can be seen as either Law or Gospel depending upon who hears it."
I was intrigued, and listened further.
"If you take for instance the teaching 'Blessed are the poor...', a poor person hears that as good news. A wealthy person hears it as law. It depends upon who hears what is written."
The teaching made perfect sense--from a certain point of view; irony noted. For it is indeed true that certain portions of Scripture are clearly good news for some while bad news for others. It is indeed true that depending upon one's particular situation in life a particular teaching from Scripture will either step on toes or reinforce one's conviction that he or she is on the right path.
But, I have begun to question whether or not this is indeed how the Law/Gospel distinction should be made. I believe this distinction is rampant throughout American Christianity, and more and more, I am convinced it is one of the main drivers in Christianity's loss of authority within society. Why?
It is actually works/righteousness in disguise. It is nothing more than legalism with a sugar coating. Why do I say such a thing? Let me lay out my argument.
Let's first travel to the right hand side of Christianity in the U.S. The implicit message in many of those congregations is, "Jesus died for you, so be as moral and upright in your life as you can be so that you will get to heaven. Do not drink, smoke, cuss, and what have you. Keep appropriate marriage and sexual boundaries, and by doing so, you will live a life pleasing to God." Notice the emphasis. Notice also what is missing: any corporate responsibility for care and concern for the poor. The "right" hand side of Christianity emphasizes personal morality above corporate morality and reassures its members they are right with God because of what they are doing. And if you are not showing forth exemplary moral righteousness in your life, then you are excluded. There is good news for those who are striving to live a moral life and law for those who aren't.
It depends upon how one hears the Scripture...
Let's now travel to the left hand side of Christianity in the U.S. The implicit message in many of these congregations is, "Jesus died for you, so work for justice and peace in the world. God has a preferential place in His heart for the poor, and so we must work to eradicate poverty, hunger, injustice, and ensure that everyone has access to health care. We must work to make the kingdom of God happen right here on earth for those who are in need." Notice the emphasis. Notice also what is missing: any personal responsibility for living an upright and moral life. The "left" hand side of Christianity emphasizes corporate morality over personal morality, and it reassures its members they are right with God because of what they are doing in their struggle for justice or solidarity with the poor. And if you are not showing forth exemplary means of working for justice, then you are excluded. There is good news for those who are striving to work for justice and peace and law for those who aren't.
It depends upon how one hears the Scripture...
I submit that these tracts are absorbed in the Law and have missed the Gospel. I submit that each of these tracts are absorbed in works/righteousness instead of living by grace.
Grace does not divide. The Gospel does not draw lines. The Gospel abolishes, destroys, manhandles all the exclusionary tactics of the Law. The Law can be seen as good news for some, bad news for others. The Gospel is good news of great joy for ALL PEOPLE!!!
At the heart of the Gospel is the God made flesh who died for us, reconciling us unto God WHILE WE WERE STILL SINNERS. At the heart of the Gospel is the God made flesh who took upon Himself all our sin, all our guilt, all our shame, all our hopelessness, all of our pain, all of our misery, all of our suffering, even death itself to defeat it and give us hope that transcends any and every distinction we might like to draw.
Note: Each "side" as defined above will give lip service to this, but it is not at the core of their teaching. Not in the least. The core of the teaching is works/righteousness, not grace. This works/righteousness plays out as lines get quickly drawn between these two branches of Christianity, and they wantonly attack each other as failing to embody of what God wants us to do.
The Gospel, the good news of God's reconciliation of the world through Jesus, does not allow anyone to make any sort of distinction because all fall morally short and corporately short. No one can measure up to the moral standard of life as articulated by Jesus. Neither can anyone measure up to fully working for justice and peace. Yet, many congregations harp and harp and harp on these things. It's no wonder people eventually leave. They become discouraged because they simply cannot fulfill what is demanded of them.
Not so with grace. The embodiment of Grace leads one to accept both moral and corporate responsibility. It leads one to strive to live an upright life abstaining from personal sin to the best of one's ability, and it leads one to engage in helping the needy, poor, and distressed to the best of one's ability. Not because one feels guilty or believes one is going to change the world into the image of the kingdom of God, but because of joyful obedience to the God who first suffered and died for us.
Good news must be preached before people are willing to respond. Good news, not just for some, but for everyone.
I remember clearly a conversation about reading the Bible. The presenter/teacher said with conviction, "As you read the Bible, much of what we read can be seen as either Law or Gospel depending upon who hears it."
I was intrigued, and listened further.
"If you take for instance the teaching 'Blessed are the poor...', a poor person hears that as good news. A wealthy person hears it as law. It depends upon who hears what is written."
The teaching made perfect sense--from a certain point of view; irony noted. For it is indeed true that certain portions of Scripture are clearly good news for some while bad news for others. It is indeed true that depending upon one's particular situation in life a particular teaching from Scripture will either step on toes or reinforce one's conviction that he or she is on the right path.
But, I have begun to question whether or not this is indeed how the Law/Gospel distinction should be made. I believe this distinction is rampant throughout American Christianity, and more and more, I am convinced it is one of the main drivers in Christianity's loss of authority within society. Why?
It is actually works/righteousness in disguise. It is nothing more than legalism with a sugar coating. Why do I say such a thing? Let me lay out my argument.
Let's first travel to the right hand side of Christianity in the U.S. The implicit message in many of those congregations is, "Jesus died for you, so be as moral and upright in your life as you can be so that you will get to heaven. Do not drink, smoke, cuss, and what have you. Keep appropriate marriage and sexual boundaries, and by doing so, you will live a life pleasing to God." Notice the emphasis. Notice also what is missing: any corporate responsibility for care and concern for the poor. The "right" hand side of Christianity emphasizes personal morality above corporate morality and reassures its members they are right with God because of what they are doing. And if you are not showing forth exemplary moral righteousness in your life, then you are excluded. There is good news for those who are striving to live a moral life and law for those who aren't.
It depends upon how one hears the Scripture...
Let's now travel to the left hand side of Christianity in the U.S. The implicit message in many of these congregations is, "Jesus died for you, so work for justice and peace in the world. God has a preferential place in His heart for the poor, and so we must work to eradicate poverty, hunger, injustice, and ensure that everyone has access to health care. We must work to make the kingdom of God happen right here on earth for those who are in need." Notice the emphasis. Notice also what is missing: any personal responsibility for living an upright and moral life. The "left" hand side of Christianity emphasizes corporate morality over personal morality, and it reassures its members they are right with God because of what they are doing in their struggle for justice or solidarity with the poor. And if you are not showing forth exemplary means of working for justice, then you are excluded. There is good news for those who are striving to work for justice and peace and law for those who aren't.
It depends upon how one hears the Scripture...
I submit that these tracts are absorbed in the Law and have missed the Gospel. I submit that each of these tracts are absorbed in works/righteousness instead of living by grace.
Grace does not divide. The Gospel does not draw lines. The Gospel abolishes, destroys, manhandles all the exclusionary tactics of the Law. The Law can be seen as good news for some, bad news for others. The Gospel is good news of great joy for ALL PEOPLE!!!
At the heart of the Gospel is the God made flesh who died for us, reconciling us unto God WHILE WE WERE STILL SINNERS. At the heart of the Gospel is the God made flesh who took upon Himself all our sin, all our guilt, all our shame, all our hopelessness, all of our pain, all of our misery, all of our suffering, even death itself to defeat it and give us hope that transcends any and every distinction we might like to draw.
Note: Each "side" as defined above will give lip service to this, but it is not at the core of their teaching. Not in the least. The core of the teaching is works/righteousness, not grace. This works/righteousness plays out as lines get quickly drawn between these two branches of Christianity, and they wantonly attack each other as failing to embody of what God wants us to do.
The Gospel, the good news of God's reconciliation of the world through Jesus, does not allow anyone to make any sort of distinction because all fall morally short and corporately short. No one can measure up to the moral standard of life as articulated by Jesus. Neither can anyone measure up to fully working for justice and peace. Yet, many congregations harp and harp and harp on these things. It's no wonder people eventually leave. They become discouraged because they simply cannot fulfill what is demanded of them.
Not so with grace. The embodiment of Grace leads one to accept both moral and corporate responsibility. It leads one to strive to live an upright life abstaining from personal sin to the best of one's ability, and it leads one to engage in helping the needy, poor, and distressed to the best of one's ability. Not because one feels guilty or believes one is going to change the world into the image of the kingdom of God, but because of joyful obedience to the God who first suffered and died for us.
Good news must be preached before people are willing to respond. Good news, not just for some, but for everyone.
Monday, November 4, 2013
We Are God's Children, Now!
I don’t know how many of you have seen the Broadway musical and motion picture, "My Fair Lady." It is based on George Bernard Shaw’s play, "Pygmalion." It is about a brilliant professor, Henry Higgins, who transforms a humble flower girl, Eliza Doolittle, into an elegant English lady. In the midst of her brilliant transformation, Eliza falls in love with Henry Higgins, but he treats her only with disdain.
Towards the end of the play, she expresses her complaint to their mutual friend, Colonel Pickering: "You see," she says, "Really and truly apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not in how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because you always treat me as a lady, and always will."
Think about this story for just a minute as we consider the fact that today we celebrate All Saints Day in the life of the Church. It is the day in the Church year where we remember the saints–those who have gone onto eternal glory and those who are among us now who have profoundly impacted our lives–particularly our lives of faith.
For many, when the term saint is mentioned, they think about a person who has exceptional morals or who had done extraordinary things. They think about a Mother Teresa, a Pope John Paul II, a Peter, a Paul, a miracle worker, a person who volunteers all of their spare time to help out at soup kitchens, food pantries, or other charitable organizations. Rarely do we think of the person sitting right next to us as a saint. No. We know too much about that person. We know too much about his or her past. We know what he or she does on the weekends or how he or she treated us with just a touch of anger at some point and time in our lives. We know how they don’t keep their lawns perfectly manicured; how they spend money frivolously; how they could do so much more to help others but they choose not to. No, that person couldn’t possibly be a saint. She is just a simple flower girl, never a lady: or, in Christian terms, that person is a sinner not a saint.
One might think that with such an attitude, these folks would think more highly of themselves than they should. One might think that those with such an attitude would consider themselves above the people they think about. However, I would submit to you this morning, they probably don’t. They probably look in the mirror and say, “I am no saint either. I do not do enough good things. I am no Mother Teresa. I am no St. John. I am no St. Francis of Assissi. I’m not the most horrible person in the world, but neither am I so great. I get angry. I get frustrated. I say things I shouldn’t say. I do things I shouldn’t do. I know my limitations and my imperfections all too well. I am no saint. I am a sinner.” I am just a simple flower girl, but I really am not a lady to return to the opening illustration..
This is where we get with either/or thinking. This is where we get when we start thinking in terms which are not necessarily Christian. For the orthodox Christian faith proclaims that we are not either a sinner or a saint. The orthodox Christian faith proclaims that we are both a sinner AND a saint. Consider that very, very carefully, and then consider its implications.
And as you consider it, listen once more to the words of 1 John. Words that we heard earlier this morning: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 2Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. 3And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.”
John holds up this balance very well. We are children of God NOW. Not later. Not when we are finally brought to perfection. We belong to Him NOW. Yet, we have not reached perfection. We have not been fully purified. That will take place slowly and surely in a process called sanctification. We are in the process of being transformed into the image and likeness of Jesus Christ. God has claimed us NOW, but we are not there yet.
And that raises and interesting question for me: how am I then called to treat others? How am I called to look at them? What am I called to emphasize about them, and how am I supposed to relate to them? As simple flower girls? As ladies–going back to the original story?
Let me try to shed some light on this question with another story. It is a story I have told before, but it bears repeating again and again and again.
Back in the mountains of Tennessee, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, Who's your daddy? Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?'
He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid
going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad. 'When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. Little Ben had heard good things about this preacher how he was kind and non-judgmental. He heard that he was compassionate and full of the Spirit.
Before long, Ben decided he wanted to check this preacher out. He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?' Ben liked the things he heard in that church. He liked hearing about a God who loved and forgave. In fact, on one particular Sunday, Ben was so caught up in the message that he forgot to slip out early. Before he knew what was happening he got caught up in the crowd.
Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son, who's your daddy?'
The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church
looking at him. This was the question everyone was dying to receive an answer for. Ben expected harsh words, condemnation. But something very different happened.
This new preacher looked deeply into Ben’s eyes. With a great big grin, the preacher said, “Wait a minute! I know who you are! I see the family resemblance now, You are a child of God.” With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, “Boy, you've got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.”
Perhaps I should tell you that little boy went on to become the governor of Tennessee. Perhaps that is relevant to the story. Perhaps it is not. Perhaps what is most important was the way the preacher thought to look at Ben. Whereas many could only see him as an illegitimate son of an unwed mother, this pastor saw him as a child of God–and worthy of love, respect, care, concern, and compassion.
Each of you are worthy of such things as well. Each of you have been adopted in the waters of baptism and have been claimed as God’s children now. No, you are not perfect, but God’s not done with you yet. He loves you dearly. He wants you to know that, and He hopes that you will treat one another with the same love He gives you. For that is what it means to Live God’s Word Daily. Amen.
Towards the end of the play, she expresses her complaint to their mutual friend, Colonel Pickering: "You see," she says, "Really and truly apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not in how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because you always treat me as a lady, and always will."
Think about this story for just a minute as we consider the fact that today we celebrate All Saints Day in the life of the Church. It is the day in the Church year where we remember the saints–those who have gone onto eternal glory and those who are among us now who have profoundly impacted our lives–particularly our lives of faith.
For many, when the term saint is mentioned, they think about a person who has exceptional morals or who had done extraordinary things. They think about a Mother Teresa, a Pope John Paul II, a Peter, a Paul, a miracle worker, a person who volunteers all of their spare time to help out at soup kitchens, food pantries, or other charitable organizations. Rarely do we think of the person sitting right next to us as a saint. No. We know too much about that person. We know too much about his or her past. We know what he or she does on the weekends or how he or she treated us with just a touch of anger at some point and time in our lives. We know how they don’t keep their lawns perfectly manicured; how they spend money frivolously; how they could do so much more to help others but they choose not to. No, that person couldn’t possibly be a saint. She is just a simple flower girl, never a lady: or, in Christian terms, that person is a sinner not a saint.
One might think that with such an attitude, these folks would think more highly of themselves than they should. One might think that those with such an attitude would consider themselves above the people they think about. However, I would submit to you this morning, they probably don’t. They probably look in the mirror and say, “I am no saint either. I do not do enough good things. I am no Mother Teresa. I am no St. John. I am no St. Francis of Assissi. I’m not the most horrible person in the world, but neither am I so great. I get angry. I get frustrated. I say things I shouldn’t say. I do things I shouldn’t do. I know my limitations and my imperfections all too well. I am no saint. I am a sinner.” I am just a simple flower girl, but I really am not a lady to return to the opening illustration..
This is where we get with either/or thinking. This is where we get when we start thinking in terms which are not necessarily Christian. For the orthodox Christian faith proclaims that we are not either a sinner or a saint. The orthodox Christian faith proclaims that we are both a sinner AND a saint. Consider that very, very carefully, and then consider its implications.
And as you consider it, listen once more to the words of 1 John. Words that we heard earlier this morning: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 2Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. 3And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.”
John holds up this balance very well. We are children of God NOW. Not later. Not when we are finally brought to perfection. We belong to Him NOW. Yet, we have not reached perfection. We have not been fully purified. That will take place slowly and surely in a process called sanctification. We are in the process of being transformed into the image and likeness of Jesus Christ. God has claimed us NOW, but we are not there yet.
And that raises and interesting question for me: how am I then called to treat others? How am I called to look at them? What am I called to emphasize about them, and how am I supposed to relate to them? As simple flower girls? As ladies–going back to the original story?
Let me try to shed some light on this question with another story. It is a story I have told before, but it bears repeating again and again and again.
Back in the mountains of Tennessee, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, Who's your daddy? Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?'
He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid
going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad. 'When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. Little Ben had heard good things about this preacher how he was kind and non-judgmental. He heard that he was compassionate and full of the Spirit.
Before long, Ben decided he wanted to check this preacher out. He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?' Ben liked the things he heard in that church. He liked hearing about a God who loved and forgave. In fact, on one particular Sunday, Ben was so caught up in the message that he forgot to slip out early. Before he knew what was happening he got caught up in the crowd.
Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son, who's your daddy?'
The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church
looking at him. This was the question everyone was dying to receive an answer for. Ben expected harsh words, condemnation. But something very different happened.
This new preacher looked deeply into Ben’s eyes. With a great big grin, the preacher said, “Wait a minute! I know who you are! I see the family resemblance now, You are a child of God.” With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, “Boy, you've got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.”
Perhaps I should tell you that little boy went on to become the governor of Tennessee. Perhaps that is relevant to the story. Perhaps it is not. Perhaps what is most important was the way the preacher thought to look at Ben. Whereas many could only see him as an illegitimate son of an unwed mother, this pastor saw him as a child of God–and worthy of love, respect, care, concern, and compassion.
Each of you are worthy of such things as well. Each of you have been adopted in the waters of baptism and have been claimed as God’s children now. No, you are not perfect, but God’s not done with you yet. He loves you dearly. He wants you to know that, and He hopes that you will treat one another with the same love He gives you. For that is what it means to Live God’s Word Daily. Amen.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
I'm (Not) Mad as Hell
(I actually wrote this piece months ago. Following up on yesterday's post, I think it timely.)
Remember this?
Amazing that this film came out in 1976, isn't it?
Amazing that many of the same things spoken of right here are still happening, isn't it?
And are people still angry? Are they mad as hell?
Yep. Just read a few comments on any given article about the goings on in Washington, D.C. Just read a few comments on any given story about gun control. Just read the comments on any given article about the Trayvon Martin case. People are angry. People are full of fear. There are some saying that Civil War is right around the corner.
And you might ask me, "Don't you think we should be angry at all of this? Don't you think we should be mad as hell and refuse to put up with all of this stuff?"
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that over 8,000 people were murdered by people using guns in 2012?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that unemployment still hovers at near 8%?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that our government uses drones to kill American citizens without due process?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that 1% of the U.S. population controls the majority of its wealth?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that there are millions in poverty?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that there are people starving, who are mal-nourished and under-nourished?
Anger is a possible reaction. It can certainly be a tremendous motivator. Yet, I ask, is it the best motivation one can use?
I'm a Star Wars fan. I think Master Yoda shows tremendous wisdom:
Anger, in my estimation is not the ultimate motivator. Anger, in my estimation does lead to hate, and hate leads to suffering.
Ever hear of a dude who said, "Love your enemies and bless those who persecute you."?
Hate is easy. Anger is easy.
Acting out of love is not. Working to change the reality of this world without demonizing and condemning the other "side" is extremely difficult.
Yet, it is the path Christ called His disciples to follow. He called us to act with compassion, realizing the merits and sinfulness of all--realizing that the person who disagrees with you is also a child of God.
Remember, Jesus, who often criticized the Pharisees also was a regular guest in their homes, eating and celebrating with them. He did not let His criticism lead to hatred.
Why?
Jesus acted out of love. Plain and simple.
Love drives away fear.
It leads to restoration.
It leads to justice.
It leads a person to work toward improving the world, one step at a time-one piece at a time.
We often get frustrated and angry at the way the world works, and we'd like to see change; however, we fail to recognize our limitations. We fail to realize that God has called us to work within a certain sphere and a certain reference. Changing things means operating and functioning in that sphere--taking responsibility for the things one has the capability of affecting.
This is why I am not mad as hell. I stick with what I can do and do not get frustrated when things happen which are outside of my control. I strive to act with love and grace-acknowledging my anger, but letting go of it instead of allowing it to grow and fester and lead to hate and suffering.
Remember this?
Amazing that this film came out in 1976, isn't it?
Amazing that many of the same things spoken of right here are still happening, isn't it?
And are people still angry? Are they mad as hell?
Yep. Just read a few comments on any given article about the goings on in Washington, D.C. Just read a few comments on any given story about gun control. Just read the comments on any given article about the Trayvon Martin case. People are angry. People are full of fear. There are some saying that Civil War is right around the corner.
And you might ask me, "Don't you think we should be angry at all of this? Don't you think we should be mad as hell and refuse to put up with all of this stuff?"
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that over 8,000 people were murdered by people using guns in 2012?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that unemployment still hovers at near 8%?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that our government uses drones to kill American citizens without due process?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that 1% of the U.S. population controls the majority of its wealth?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that there are millions in poverty?
Don't you think we should be mad as hell that there are people starving, who are mal-nourished and under-nourished?
Anger is a possible reaction. It can certainly be a tremendous motivator. Yet, I ask, is it the best motivation one can use?
I'm a Star Wars fan. I think Master Yoda shows tremendous wisdom:
Anger, in my estimation is not the ultimate motivator. Anger, in my estimation does lead to hate, and hate leads to suffering.
Ever hear of a dude who said, "Love your enemies and bless those who persecute you."?
Hate is easy. Anger is easy.
Acting out of love is not. Working to change the reality of this world without demonizing and condemning the other "side" is extremely difficult.
Yet, it is the path Christ called His disciples to follow. He called us to act with compassion, realizing the merits and sinfulness of all--realizing that the person who disagrees with you is also a child of God.
Remember, Jesus, who often criticized the Pharisees also was a regular guest in their homes, eating and celebrating with them. He did not let His criticism lead to hatred.
Why?
Jesus acted out of love. Plain and simple.
Love drives away fear.
It leads to restoration.
It leads to justice.
It leads a person to work toward improving the world, one step at a time-one piece at a time.
We often get frustrated and angry at the way the world works, and we'd like to see change; however, we fail to recognize our limitations. We fail to realize that God has called us to work within a certain sphere and a certain reference. Changing things means operating and functioning in that sphere--taking responsibility for the things one has the capability of affecting.
This is why I am not mad as hell. I stick with what I can do and do not get frustrated when things happen which are outside of my control. I strive to act with love and grace-acknowledging my anger, but letting go of it instead of allowing it to grow and fester and lead to hate and suffering.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Addressing My Home Congregation
This post is an address given to my home congregation recalled to the best of my ability from memory.
Good morning, and thank you for the honor of being here at our congregation's 100th Anniversary. We pastor's are known for being pretty wordy, but I will try to keep things as brief as possible while dealing with the question, "What difference can a church make?"
What difference can a church make?
I remember when my great-grandmother, Pauline Galloway died. We had the funeral at the old church, and afterward, I remember going to the fellowship hall, the old educational building. I saw my grandmother, Estelle Haug, there setting out sandwiches and other things for the reception. I went up to her and said, "Grandma, I didn't know you were related to Grandma Galloway."
She said, "I'm not."
I replied, "Then why are you here?"
She responded, "Well, this is what we do to help out when someone dies?"
What difference does a church make when helping someone understand what it means to care for others even when you aren't related? What difference does a church make when reaching out to families that grieve?
What difference does a church make?
Story number two. This one has to do with my cousin, Joshua Grote. Josh was probably about 18-24 months old at the time just old enough to know there was a routine in church but not old enough to know what in the world was going on. Pastor had invited all the kids up to the children's sermon, and, as I said, Josh was old enough he was supposed to go up there, but he was too young to actually listen to what was Pastor was saying.
I think a whole lot of people never advance past that stage anyway. (congregation laughs)
No offense, Pastor Jeff, but I don't remember a single sermon that you've ever preached. (congregation laughs)
Pastor Jeff responds, "I don't remember them either." (But the congregation doesn't hear him. I do.)
But don't feel bad about that, Jeff. Now that I'm preaching on a regular basis, I've come to know there's nothing personal about it. There's a story behind that one as well.
I challenged my congregation not too long ago to remember one of my sermons word for word. I even gave them a place in the bulletin to take notes. The Gospel text was on the wedding at Cana where Jesus turns water into wine. In that text, Mary tells those gathered, "Do what he tells you to do." So, I got up in front of the congregation and said, "Do what Jesus says. Amen."
The congregation at that point was like, "What the hell?" But that was it.
Next Sunday, I asked the folks gathered, "I've been here eight years. How many of you can remember a sermon, aside from last week's, word for word?"
Not a single hand went up.
"Now, how many of you remember last weeks?"
A whole bunch of hands.
"And that was only four words."
There's a lesson there somewhere, but I'm not quite willing to learn it just yet.
But, anyway, back to the story. I don't remember the content of Pastor Jeff's children's sermon fully that morning. I do know it was about God's love, and Jeff concluded the sermon by telling the children he would give them all a hug. He finished, and all the kids stood up to get their hugs.
Well, Josh, as I said, being too young to actually listen, knew enough of the routine to believe the children's sermon was over and that it was time to head back to his pew. He took off running back to his mom and dad. Well, of course, Landon and Marie told him, "Josh, you didn't get your hug."
Well, Josh took off like a bullet right then. He moved as fast as his little legs could carry him. He ran around to the back of the church, behind the organ and the piano. He rounded the back pews and started heading down the center aisle, but he wasn't fast enough. Pastor Jeff had finished giving all the kids their hugs and was turning to begin the adult sermon.
Josh was about half-way down when he realized this, and he began squealing. That's as best as I can describe it. He ran and squealed at the same time to get Jeff's attention.
And what do you do at that moment when you are a pastor? You do the only thing you can do.
Jeff turned around and caught Josh. He picked him up in the air and gave him a huge bear hug much to the absolute delight to everyone who was there that morning.
What difference does a church make?
Joshua is now on his vicarage year as he is preparing to be a pastor in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod.
What difference does a church make?
When it is showing God's love within in and without and intentionally taking that love out into the community, it survives and thrives for 100 years. And if it continues, it will last for hundreds more. God bless you today and always as you seek to show that love.
Thank you again.
Good morning, and thank you for the honor of being here at our congregation's 100th Anniversary. We pastor's are known for being pretty wordy, but I will try to keep things as brief as possible while dealing with the question, "What difference can a church make?"
What difference can a church make?
I remember when my great-grandmother, Pauline Galloway died. We had the funeral at the old church, and afterward, I remember going to the fellowship hall, the old educational building. I saw my grandmother, Estelle Haug, there setting out sandwiches and other things for the reception. I went up to her and said, "Grandma, I didn't know you were related to Grandma Galloway."
She said, "I'm not."
I replied, "Then why are you here?"
She responded, "Well, this is what we do to help out when someone dies?"
What difference does a church make when helping someone understand what it means to care for others even when you aren't related? What difference does a church make when reaching out to families that grieve?
What difference does a church make?
Story number two. This one has to do with my cousin, Joshua Grote. Josh was probably about 18-24 months old at the time just old enough to know there was a routine in church but not old enough to know what in the world was going on. Pastor had invited all the kids up to the children's sermon, and, as I said, Josh was old enough he was supposed to go up there, but he was too young to actually listen to what was Pastor was saying.
I think a whole lot of people never advance past that stage anyway. (congregation laughs)
No offense, Pastor Jeff, but I don't remember a single sermon that you've ever preached. (congregation laughs)
Pastor Jeff responds, "I don't remember them either." (But the congregation doesn't hear him. I do.)
But don't feel bad about that, Jeff. Now that I'm preaching on a regular basis, I've come to know there's nothing personal about it. There's a story behind that one as well.
I challenged my congregation not too long ago to remember one of my sermons word for word. I even gave them a place in the bulletin to take notes. The Gospel text was on the wedding at Cana where Jesus turns water into wine. In that text, Mary tells those gathered, "Do what he tells you to do." So, I got up in front of the congregation and said, "Do what Jesus says. Amen."
The congregation at that point was like, "What the hell?" But that was it.
Next Sunday, I asked the folks gathered, "I've been here eight years. How many of you can remember a sermon, aside from last week's, word for word?"
Not a single hand went up.
"Now, how many of you remember last weeks?"
A whole bunch of hands.
"And that was only four words."
There's a lesson there somewhere, but I'm not quite willing to learn it just yet.
But, anyway, back to the story. I don't remember the content of Pastor Jeff's children's sermon fully that morning. I do know it was about God's love, and Jeff concluded the sermon by telling the children he would give them all a hug. He finished, and all the kids stood up to get their hugs.
Well, Josh, as I said, being too young to actually listen, knew enough of the routine to believe the children's sermon was over and that it was time to head back to his pew. He took off running back to his mom and dad. Well, of course, Landon and Marie told him, "Josh, you didn't get your hug."
Well, Josh took off like a bullet right then. He moved as fast as his little legs could carry him. He ran around to the back of the church, behind the organ and the piano. He rounded the back pews and started heading down the center aisle, but he wasn't fast enough. Pastor Jeff had finished giving all the kids their hugs and was turning to begin the adult sermon.
Josh was about half-way down when he realized this, and he began squealing. That's as best as I can describe it. He ran and squealed at the same time to get Jeff's attention.
And what do you do at that moment when you are a pastor? You do the only thing you can do.
Jeff turned around and caught Josh. He picked him up in the air and gave him a huge bear hug much to the absolute delight to everyone who was there that morning.
What difference does a church make?
Joshua is now on his vicarage year as he is preparing to be a pastor in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod.
What difference does a church make?
When it is showing God's love within in and without and intentionally taking that love out into the community, it survives and thrives for 100 years. And if it continues, it will last for hundreds more. God bless you today and always as you seek to show that love.
Thank you again.
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