Loving Like Jesus: Maundy Thursday Sermon

    I wish I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone say, “If we could just love one another, everything would be great.”

    It’s a great thought.  It’s a happy thought.  But let’s think about this for just a minute.  Let’s think about why we love another person.  Let’s think about why we love something in general.

    If I were to ask most folks, “Why do you love your spouse?”, how do you think they would respond? 

    At first, you might hear some qualities they appreciate in their spouse.  You might hear about how the person is trustworthy, honest, compassionate, caring, and so on and so forth.  But as the conversation progresses, you will also hear a few more things.  “I love how I feel when I am with my spouse.”  “I love how my spouse takes care of me.”  “I love how my spouse is always there for me.”  “I love how my spouse seems to complete me.”  Stop and think about those responses for just a moment as we turn to our reasons for loving certain activities.

    Why do you love watching sports?  Why do you love hunting and fishing?  Why do you love driving fast in your car?  Why do you love taking care of animals?  Why do you love traveling and going on vacation?  “Because I like how I feel when I am doing these things.  I like how I can get away from everything.  I like how I feel in control and in charge.  I like how an animal responds when I care for it.  I like the endorphin rush I get when I buy something.  I like to savor the thrill of victory.  I like how I feel when I help someone out.  Stop and think about those responses as well.

    Do you notice what they all have in common?  Do you notice what is striking about many of the reasons we give for loving a person or engaging in an activity?  Because of how things make “ME” feel.  I love someone because of how they make “ME” feel.  Who is really the object of love here?  Who is really the one who is getting something out of the relationship?  Me.  I am. 

    If we could just love each other, everything would be great.  Right.  How can this be possible when the reality of love is that we generally love only when we are getting something out of the relationship?  The reality of love is that we generally only love another person or another thing when we feel good about it–when we feel like we are being made happy by another person or an activity we engage in.  If we could just love each other, everything would be great.  Sure, I agree with you, but how will you love someone when that other person is acting unlovable?  How will you love another person when that other person keeps taking and taking and taking but never gives anything in return?  How will you love when someone looks at you and says, “I hate you!” even though that person knows absolutely nothing about you.  Can you really, truly love everybody?  Can you?  And if you can’t what makes you think that “All the world needs now is love sweet love?” to quote that song sung long ago?  What makes you or anyone else say, “If we could just love everyone, everything would be o.k.”  Maybe, just maybe, if we were being honest with ourselves, we would change what we said.  Maybe, just maybe, if we were truly dealing with the reality of this world, we would say, “If everyone was just like me and loved me, then everything would be o.k.”

    But everyone isn’t just like us.  Everyone doesn’t love us.  This world is made up of people of all shapes and sizes and beliefs.  This world is made up of people who hold conflicting beliefs and act according to those beliefs.  How is it possible to love someone who is different than you; who believes differently than you; who acts differently from you; and who holds you in contempt for the way you believe and act?

    In the night He was betrayed, Jesus stood up in front of His disciples.  He took off His outer robe and He knelt before them.  He took a basin of water, and He began washing their feet.  He washed the feet of James and John who asked if they could sit at Jesus’ right and left hand.  These two wanted to be in the positions of power in Jesus’ kingdom over and above the rest of the disciples in that room.  Do you think that made them popular?  Not at all.  Jesus knelt before Matthew, a tax collector, a person of wealth and means who in all probability got that way by cheating others.  Jesus washed his feet despite Matthew’s past.  Jesus knelt at the feet of Peter.  Dear Peter who Jesus once had to say, “Get behind me Satan.”  Dear Peter who even at the moment said, “You will never wash my feet.”  Dear Peter who had a big head who denied that he would deny Jesus but went ahead and did so anyway.  Jesus washed Peter’s feet.  To each and every disciple with each and every personality trait and flaw. Doubting Thomas was washed.  Andrew was washed.  Nathaniel who remarked, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” was washed.  And then Jesus knelt at the feet of Judas–the same Judas who would betray Him for 30 pieces of silver.  And Jesus washed his feet as well.  All of these flawed men, Jesus washed.  All of these flawed men were embraced by Jesus’ act of humility. 

    “Do you know what I have done to you?” Jesus said.  “13You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”

    Jesus wasn’t done with the instruction.  Jesus pushed it even further.  “34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

    But how?!  How Jesus?!  Sure, you can kneel in front of a tax collector, a denier, a betrayer, those who want power and prestige, you can wash their feet, but how can I do such a thing?  How can I love with this kind of love?  How can I love someone who does such a thing to me?  How can I love someone who doesn’t love me in the same way?  How can I love someone who is unlovable?

    I can’t.

    I just can’t.

    It’s too hard.  It’s too difficult.  If we could just love one another...but we can’t.

    But then Jesus says, “I can.  I can love them.  I can love you.  And here is how I will change your heart.  Here is how I will change your mind.  Here is where I will change you so that you can love with the love that I have.”

    And Jesus stretched out His arms and died loving the unlovable you and the unlovable me and forgiving us for not being able to love one another.

    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 may be saved through Him.

    And God said, “Your salvation doesn’t hinge on your being able to love everyone, but on Jesus’ ability to love everyone.  Your salvation doesn’t hinge on your being able to serve everyone, but on Jesus being able to serve everyone.  The way I love you does not depend upon your being able to love everyone around you, but it depends upon the way Jesus loves you.  You can’t attain your own salvation.  You can’t be righteous enough, but Jesus can.”

    And it is Jesus act of wondrous love that penetrates us to our very core.  Knowing He died for us when we were unforgiving, uncaring, unloving, and full of ourselves, changes us.  It humbles us.  It helps me know that I am not the center.  Jesus is.  And when Jesus is the center, a well of love springs forth from deep within.  When Jesus is the center a well of love gushes over and oozes out of our every pore.  When Jesus is the center of our hearts and our lives, we look at others differently.  We see them as fellow children of God; not as enemies; not as people we can get something from, but as people who God loves just as much as He loves us.  They are our brothers–our sisters.  The wondrous love of grace changes us and helps us love as Jesus loved.  Amen.

Yes, I Still Care

As I reflected about my post last week: Who Cares?, I began to wonder if I didn't overstep my bounds.  Some may see this post as an attempt to cover my tail, and in some ways perhaps it is.  But I think I need to add these words to further define my role/a pastor's role in caring for members in a congregation.

My entire goal in the previous post was to encourage all members within congregations to care for one another and not view such care as exclusive to the pastor/clergy.   Jesus didn't say, "Clergy members are to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned."  (paraphrasing the end result of Matthew 25)  Not at all.  Jesus called all of His followers to do such things.

Clergy are not singled out nor exempted.

Which means that I believe clergy are indeed called to model and equip others on how to care for one another in a congregational setting.

• This means clergy/I should/will continue to visit the sick.
• This means clergy/I should/will continue to counsel people when in need.
• This means clergy/I should/will continue to check on people who are undergoing long-term treatments.
• This means clergy/I should/will continue to be with families who lose a loved one and endure the grief process.
• This means clergy/I should/will continue to receive and make phone calls when a need arises.

I do not believe clergy/I are/am ever exempted from doing these things.  Whenever clergy cease to interact with people--real people who inhabit the church pews/seats on Sunday morning, then I think they become more CEO, executive types.   Now, such types may be necessary in mega-churches, but I have my doubts.

I think one can still head a large organization and still have plenty of personal contact with those in need.

I hope no one viewed my post as an attempt to say, "I don't need to care."  Far be it from that.  In reality, it was a desire to expand the view and show that the responsibility for care falls not on one but upon all.

Who Cares?

It is a question I think we as clergy and as congregations need to wrestle with more deeply: who cares?

Who cares, indeed?

In many congregations, it is assumed that the primary caregiver for people is the pastor.  When people are troubled, they go to the pastor.  When people are having surgery or they end up in the hospital, the pastor is supposed to visit.  When someone loses a loved one, the pastor is there at the death, at the funeral preparation, calls numerous times afterward, and checks in on important dates: Christmas, Easter, a year after the death.  When a member has cancer, the pastor is supposed to call, text, write, email on a regular basis to check in.  If  someone misses church a couple Sundays in a row, the pastor should call upon that person to see what is going on.  And the list goes on.

Mind you, this isn't a bad thing.  I am not trying to get into a bad versus good argument over this, but what I would like to suggest is a good versus better approach.

In the above scenario, the pastor basically functions as a congregation's chaplain offering care and concern for his/her members.  This works pretty well for smaller congregations, but as congregation's grow, problems occur, mainly: the pastor is simply incapable of caring for so many people.  More and more things pile up.  More and more people have need.  The calendar becomes overwhelmed, and, even worse, the pastor becomes emotionally overwhelmed.  With so many people to care for with so many varied issues and difficulties, the pastor eventually hits emotional overload--no matter how good he or she is with caring for him/herself.

And even in smaller congregations, while this works, I am not convinced it is the best model of care and concern.  Why?

Generally this: in those congregations, the pastor becomes the "glue" that holds the congregation together.  People have a relationship with the pastor, but not necessarily with one another.  And that brings me to an important point: what happens to that congregation should the pastor take another call or retire?  If he/she is the glue that holds things together, what happens when the glue is gone?  The results aren't necessarily pretty.  In fact, you will see many congregations experience a drop in worship attendance and giving when the pastor leaves.  This is not the healthiest thing in my estimation.

So, what model might be better?

First of all, I think there are some things that clergy must keep in mind and practice and then things congregations should keep in mind and practice.

First, I think those of us who are clergy need to remember our job is not to bind a congregation together by having people have a relationship with us.  Far from it.  I believe our job is to help people connect with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Sure, it's nice to get strokes when people tell us how much they appreciate us and like us.  It's nice to hear, "I am so thankful for all that you have done."  To a person who generally cares for others, these things touch a soul very deeply.  However, if people are simply enjoying their relationship with you, are they growing in their walks of faith?  Are they coming in contact with the God who works through you?  That is another question entirely, and it is one I wrestle with constantly.  As much as I like to be liked, I have become convinced that people don't need a relationship with me nearly as much as they need a relationship with Christ.  He alone brings the peace that passes all understanding.  He alone brings healing.  He alone brings transformation.  If folks are not experiencing such things, perhaps it is because we are in the way.

Second, I think a much better model for congregations to follow is care and concern for each other.  When a pastor cares for members, one person essentially is the care giver.  When people care for one another, well, that's a whole other ball of wax--a very powerful ball of wax.  Suddenly, it's not the pastor alone who is showing compassion, concern, and mercy--to those he or she agrees and doesn't agree with--instead, a whole body of people begin to care about one another--they truly have compassion, concern, and mercy for one another.  Suddenly, it's not one person alone trying to model the love of God for others, it's an entire group of people; and while God can certainly make a difference with one person, He can reach more people through the acts of others.

Furthermore, when people genuinely care for each other, the pastor no longer becomes the bonding mechanism for a congregation.  People's relationship with God and with each other form that bond.  Ideally, when the pastor leaves or retires, not much changes because the compassion and care is not dependent upon the pastor--it's shown with or without him/her.

When people show such care and concern for each other, no one feels left out.  No one feels isolated.  No one feels demeaned or unimportant.  A congregation might hold a belief or policy that people do not agree with, but because of the love that people show towards one another, such things do not take on the utmost importance.

I am convinced that when people care for one another and are not dependent upon the pastor for such care, great things happen in congregations.

Who cares about such things?

I do.  For I long to see congregations thriving and showing God's love--sharing the Gospel because they know the difference a relationship with Christ can bring.  I long to see congregations thriving in a culture which a times is openly hostile to public faith.  I long to see congregations full of joy and hope and people who smile and laugh with one another.

I simply cannot make people do these things.

All I can and will do is preach the Good News and hope that Christ transforms communities into such places of care and compassion.

The Positives of the Church

I think we live in a culture which likes to accentuate the negative.  For some reason, we believe that pointing out and harping out the negative will inspire a person or institution to change and become better.  While this might prove true if given at a certain point, it is much less certain to happen if one leads with such negativity.

My favorite illustration of this comes in John 8 with the woman caught in adultery.  Jesus didn't tell her, "Go and sin no more." at the beginning of the story.  It was only after saving her life that He dropped this command upon her.  At that point, I am positive she was very receptive to His teaching.  When someone saves you from getting your head bashed in by rocks, one is apt to listen very carefully to any instructions given.

In the U.S. we don't see very many people about to get their heads bashed by rocks for committing adultery.  Usually, the worst that happens is furor raised in the media or through the rumor mill in a community.  Names get drug through the mud, and fortunately, bodily harm is not a part.  So, it makes me wonder how the Church can "save a life" before offering instruction and the commands of Christ.  How can the Church act with compassion before asking someone to change?

A little of my own personal experience:

Last year, I went through a tumultuous period of burnout.  I questioned a lot of things about my work habits, my role as leader of the congregation, and my spiritual life and growth.  Much of my questioning led to some very painful realizations.  I had become over-involved in the life of the congregation.  Instead of letting the people do the work of the congregation, I had been doing too much.  I had become overly connected emotionally.  I was carrying a lot of pain and frustration that should have been given over to God.  In effect, I was not an effective, healing presence.  I had over-invested in my time at work.  Somehow, I thought more hours spent at the office and running around visiting and contacting people would translate into more growth and better functioning of the congregation.

When I hit the proverbial wall, things weren't pretty.  I needed help, and I asked for it.

Now, things didn't necessarily go as I wanted.  In fact, I thought there was a sure and certain route that I needed to chart to ensure my health and sanity--to recover from burning out.  But that route was closed off.  Instead, something much different happened.

Within the Church and within a congregation there are those who God inspires to offer a helping hand to pastors who are in need.  Who need time and healing.  Who need avenues to practice self-care.  When you ask, they will arise.

There is often a temptation to go it alone.  To refuse to ask.  To think "physician, heal thyself!"  After all, no one really wants to take care of you.  It's your job as a clergy to take care of everyone God has placed in your congregation.  Or so some think.

Balderdash!

A congregation ideally functions differently than this.  A congregation functions as a community of mutual conversation and consolation.  This process includes the pastor.  He or she is intricately involved in this process.  Sure, he or she is constantly engaging in conversation and consolation--mainly giving, but also receiving.  The entire process focuses on building one another up in love.

After burning out, I am blessed to have had many persons involved in building me up.  The list that follows catches the highlights.  It certainly is not exhaustive, and for my congregation members who read this, please do not think I am trying to slight anyone or play favorites.  I am not.  I care deeply about all of you.  The following list does not include those of you who pray for me regularly who keep this an absolute secret.  I know you are there even though I do not know who you might be.

• I have been invited to hunt and fish on several properties owned by congregation members in the community.  This has provided me with an outlet beyond the walls of the congregation in which I can get away and do something that I have enjoyed doing for many years.  Self-care folks tell you to have a hobby outside the congregation, and I know now the worth of that hobby.
• I have a couple of congregation members who engaged me educationally, literally giving me material which fed a hungry soul.  Individual prayer and meditation is but one avenue for spiritual growth.  My own avenue is through study.  Unfortunately, the theological education I received wasn't nurturing, but I was led by the influence of several congregation members to find a theological path which was much more intellectually satisfying and nurturing as it engaged life's biggest questions.  Repeated discussions fed me in a way my college and seminary educations couldn't match.
• I have had one person in particular take me out to lunch once a month with the caveat "what is said here, stays here."  Everything is kept in complete confidence.  I cannot tell you the difference this makes.
• After my puppy had to be put down, I received well wishes and support in my family's grief.  From the congregation member/vet who put my dog down, to him and his brother's well wishes in worship the following morning, to prayers sent through emails and on Facebook, to donations being made to a local adoption/spay/neuter organization in my pup's honor.  All of these were heart-felt and helped ease the grief of her death.
• The leadership of the congregation paid for counseling and gave policy approval adding flexibility to the time I can take off during the week--ensuring I work as close to 40 hours a week as possible instead of the "normal" clergy work load of 50+.

Such things may "seem" small in and of themselves, but cumulatively, they have made an amazing difference.  A difference which has made me more effective a leader, preacher, teacher, and administrator.

This is, I believe, what happens when the church is at its best.  This should not just be my story.  It should be the story of each and every congregation member in the pews.  It should be the story of each and every congregation member who is unable to leave their home for one reason or another.  It should be the story of each and every congregation member who suffers from illness, debilitation, worry, stress, anxiety or what have you.  The temptation is to say, "I'll handle it myself."  But with a community of faith full of people who care and who believe in Christ who commanded His disciples to, "Love one another and by this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another," why?  Why keep it down deep?  Why try to go it alone?

God has gifted the Church with many gifts including compassion.  It is a driving force in the Church.  I've been blessed by many congregation members who have it and share it.  I invite you to come experience it as well.