Grace Awakening
Romans 3:19-26
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
The
Way Up with God is Down
Servant
Leadership
Mark 9: 30-37
Last Saturday Charlotte
and I attended the wedding reception for Tom and Martha Fleisher. It was a lovely affair overlooking the golf
course at Heritage Hills. We were seated with some people I did not know, but they
knew me because I had been standing up front and talking during the
wedding. One of them, just making
conversation asked “How big is your church?”
By that she meant membership and budget.
It is a common enough question and people ask I suppose to determine
your measure of success. Numbers are important and they do matter and we use
them to evaluate many things, but they are not the only criteria to define
success and they will not be found often in scripture and especially not in our
passage today.
In fact, Jesus turned our
understanding of success upside down when he said, “the first will be last and
the last will be first and whoever wants to be first must become a
servant.” In other words, the way up
with God is down. If you want to get to God you don’t climb up a grand
staircase. You walk down the back stairs into the servant’s quarters. This
morning we will explore both the meaning and the implications of these words.
First, let us pray:
Gracious God, we long to
know your Presence, to feel the movement of your spirit. Lead us, O God,
into practices from which our spirits shrink because the demand is so great.
Give to us quiet confidence, just a simple trust. Let us be true to that which
you have entrusted to our keeping, the integrity of our own soul. For us, God,
this is enough. Amen.
The disciples had given
up a lot to follow Jesus, so they expected a lot for their trouble. Their expectations of rewards and riches were
sky high, so when Jesus said he would be betrayed and killed and rise again,
the Bible says, “they did not understand and they were afraid to ask.”
I know the feeling. I remember my Old Testament professor, Dr.
Eberhard Von Waldow, who in the Second World War was a Panzer tank commander
for the German army and looked the part.
He had a high Prussian brow and slicked back hair and a thick German
accent. He had everything but a monocle
and swagger stick. He taught his class the
same way he led his troops and he did not suffer fools lightly. If you asked a question that was already
answered in the textbook assignment he would ask if you could read and if you
could why you didn’t. As a result, few
students asked any questions because they did not want to appear foolish. They followed Abraham Lincoln’s counsel,
“Better to keep silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove
all doubt.”
Now, Jesus was not a
German Panzer tank commander. Everything
we know about him is gentle and kind, but still the disciples did not
understand what he was saying about the will of God because it was exactly
opposite from what they thought it would be.
If you asked them they could boil down God’s Will to a simple formula;
do the right thing and try not make too many mistakes and God will bless you in
this life and the next; do the wrong thing and commit too many sins and you’re
on your own and on your way down. God
will make you pay.
That made sense to them
because that was the way their world worked or at least the way they hoped it
would work. Good should be rewarded and
evil punished. That seems only fair and
just. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
This theology is alive
and well today, and I know this is so because of the many times someone has
asked, “Why did this happen to me?” They
get it when something bad happens to people who deserve it and say “she’s
getting her just deserts”, or “he made his bed let him lie in it”. But, when
something bad happens to them they think they didn’t deserve it and God has
made a mistake or is unfair, and so they ask, “why did God let this happen to
me?”
That’s why the disciples
were silent and afraid to ask when Jesus said bad things were going to happen
to him; because if something bad could happen to him it can happen to anyone.
That was the point. If you wish to follow me Jesus said you need
to understand that discipleship is about service and sacrifice and not selfish glory;
it is about giving and not getting. He
had said this before, but he had to say it again, because while they were
walking the disciples were talking and got into an argument among themselves
about who was the greatest and best disciple and so who would be most richly
rewarded.
They were using the
yardstick they were familiar with. They
were measuring success as we still do.
In a “me-first, my way or the highway” world, bragging about
accomplishments is the only path we see to recognition. If I don’t do it, who will?
We see this in the
current Presidential campaign. All
candidates boast of their accomplishments to garner your vote, but one in
particular, who identifies himself as a Presbyterian or at least has
Presbyterian roots, blows his own trumpet louder than anyone. So far this strategy seems to be
working. He has a commanding lead in the
polls. I’m not surprised.
I saw this
happen on August 31, 1997 when Princess Dianna was tragically killed in an
automobile accident in Paris. Accounts
of this accident and her life filled newspapers and dominated news broadcasts
for weeks - so much so that a few days later when Mother Teresa passed away
there was only a passing mention in these same papers and broadcasts. It was clear who the editors thought more
significant and what story mattered more.
Following the
death of Diana, princess of Wales, Kate Legge in an Australian newspaper made
this comparison between Diana and Mother Teresa.
"One was
young and beautiful and did some good works. The other was old and ugly and
devoted her life to good works. One had a First World eating disorder called
bulimia. The other lived in the Third World where people starve to death. One
wore designer clothes and once sold her dresses for $8 million. The other left
behind two saris and a bucket. One made headlines with simple gestures such as
touching a person with AIDS. The other lived her life among lepers and the
diseased." "In one sense there is no comparison between the two women
and yet the death of the elderly missionary, as a postscript to the dislocation
over Diana's death, seems to taunt our godless worship of glamour and
style."
We would be
hard pressed to find a clearer present-day illustration of Jesus' teaching on
becoming "the servant of all." Slighting Diana's character is both
undignified and unnecessary. The comparison between Diana and Mother Teresa is
not made to exalt one and debase the other, but rather to expose the human
tendency to glory in status, wealth, beauty, position, education, vitality.....
As a US magazine editor commented, if she ran a picture of an elderly person on
the cover, she could guarantee a drop in sales.
Our acceptance
of others is too often driven by the worship of style. Yet, Jesus would have us
accept and even welcome a seeker on the basis of a radically different
criteria. A person's relationship to Christ establishes the criteria for
acceptance. The servant embraces the sinner who would be righteous in Christ,
for in Christ the unlovely are lovely.
Human beings have mostly attributed value to those who have power.
I suppose that is why the rich get richer.
Jesus is challenges this
idea of people wanting to use
power to establish their own value and people using power as the measure of
value of human beings. Jesus subverts both. True greatness is not about either
of these relations to power. True greatness is to be like Jesus, a truly
powerful person, but who valued himself not because of power but because of his
being and his doing the will of God, which meant lowliness, in his case
including following the path to the cross. That is all implied in the context
of Mark’s story. Jesus in Mark subverts the standard values. He is a king, but
wearing a crown of thorns. He is the Christ, but broken on the cross.
Paul put it this way, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests
of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ
Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied
himself, by taking the form of a servant,]being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”[1]
Why was this the strategy God chose? Why did he focus on the broken? Well, it answers the question, “How does
Jesus use imperfect people to build a perfect kingdom?”
God made the most radical decision, a Divine plan is that included
and in fact counted on the followers of Jesus Christ, with all their
weaknesses, to build the Church of Jesus Christ. Jesus did not go to the
rich or powerful or famous to gather troops for his movement. He chose the
"rag-tag" crew on the Capernaum road and still chooses people like you and me to build the church
and carry God's good news to a fractured world.
There is an old legend that tells how Jesus, after his ascension,
was asked by the angels how he planned to complete his mission. The angels were
incredulous. "Them?" they
exclaimed pointing to the fearful, unlearned disciples who stood lost and
confused on the earth below, "You
are going to depend on them to complete your mission?"
"That's
correct," Jesus answers.
"And
should they fail??" the angels
counter, "If they are not
capable of carrying on your work, do you have a back-up plan?"
"They
are my only plan," Jesus says.
There
are two key issues in our gospel lesson about the way Jesus intended to shape
imperfect people into bearers of his good news.
He
chose people who were willing to learn. He chose people regardless of their
station in life
"If you want to be first, you must be last," he taught them. They had argued
about who would be the greatest in terms of the world's view of
greatness. In the eyes of God, however, greatness is measured by
servanthood. Those who live with a "me first" attitude will come in last with
God. Those who live with a "you
first" attitude in the family of faith will come in first with
God. Jesus would continue on from this event to his arrest and
crucifixion in Jerusalem. The disciples would witness the greatest "you first" in all of
history.
Jesus
turned all of this inside out and upside down. He chose the fisherman and
tax collector over the priest and the scribe. He put a child first and a
ruler last.
The way up with God is
down !
Here's
the genius of God’s plan. Whenever the followers of Jesus Christ would
think about the fact that Jesus had chosen them - of all people - to carry on his mission, they would
automatically be called back to the heart of the good news of God. "If God can love even me, then God's
love is truly for everyone!"
That is the good news we are called to share with
the words we speak and the actions we take and with the attitudes we express.
Loving God, we give you
thanks for the gift of life and for the windfall of our birth. We pray that you
would awaken us to your call to service and that you would continue to bless us
in the living of these days. We pray in Jesus' name. Amen.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Home Field Advantage
Hebrews 10: 19- 25
Eric Liddell
was the son of a Presbyterian Pastor. He was known as the “Flying Scot” because
in his teens and early 20’s he was one of the fastest men to run the hundred
yard dash. He was so good he represented
the team from Great Britain in the 1924 Olympic Games in Paris.
When he
arrived, he discovered that the qualifying heats were to be held on a Sunday
and he had firm convictions about following the fourth commandment to honor the
Sabbath Day, so his conscience would not permit him to run on that day. He believed this was a time for worship and
that he should be in church. Despite direct pressure from the King of England
he “held fast to his confession of hope without wavering.” He gave up his dream
of winning a gold medal in the hundred yard dash.
The story had
a happy ending though, because Eric entered the 400 meter race because the
preliminary heats were not held on a Sunday, and although he was stronger in
the shorter distance he still won a gold medal and set a record that lasted for
a dozen years. Following the games he
went to China to serve as a Presbyterian missionary until he was martyred for
his faith. He died in a Japanese
internment camp in 1945.
His story is
told in the movie, “Chariots of Fire”. I bring this up because of the scene
that both begins and ends this film.
(fade in music)
The track team
dressed in pure white shorts and shirts run barefoot along the beach. Even though some of them are faster and some
of them are slower, they run together.
And I know why because we did the same thing when I ran track and cross
country in High School. We always began
our training session with a warm-up and closed it with a cool-down and we
always did it together. During that time
we talked. We encouraged each other, so
even if you were a little tired you dug deeper to stay with the group. You didn’t want to be left behind and miss
the conversation. And if you were
stronger you slowed down a bit to keep the group together because you wanted to
hear what the others had to say. We ran
together because we knew we ran better together.
(fade out music)
Our scripture
today recognizes that reality. It prompts us to stay together and to encourage
one another to love and good works. As
we seek to understand these words, let us pray:
Gentle God we come before you, many of us, as bruised reeds and
flickering candles.[1] Faith has faltered and hopes have
dimmed. The struggles and
disappointments in life have taken their toll.
Yet, we see by your Word and example; and the example of those who have
followed you closely that there is no one beyond the reach of your redemptive
hand.
O God, light of the minds that know
you, life of the souls that love you, strength of the thoughts that seek
you: Helps us to know you so that we may
truly love you, so to love you that we may fully serve you, whose service is
perfect freedom; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
The first time I ever visited a
traditional Greek Orthodox I was surprised by two unusual architectural
features. First, there were no
chairs. The congregation was expected to
stand throughout the worship service, and if you’re doing that you’re really
hoping for a short sermon. Second, there
was an intricate lattice wall that separated the congregation from the chancel
area and the altar where the elements for the Holy Eucharist were consecrated
and sanctified by the priests. Whatever they were doing back there was a
mystery because you could not see. They
designed it that way to emphasize the difference between that which was seen as
holy and so closer to God from that which was seen as common and so farther
from God.
They were not the first to do that.
Herod’s temple in Jerusalem during the time of Jesus followed the same
principle. The “holy of holies” at the
center of the sanctuary marked the place where it was believed God was more
fully present. Only the High Priest
could enter and he could do that only once a year during Yom Kippur. What people learned from the architecture is
that God is holy and separate and distant and not really a part of their
everyday lives.
That’s why the writer to the
Hebrews marks the moment recorded in the gospel of Matthew, “when Jesus cried
out with a loud voice and breathed his last breath, the curtain in the Temple
that separated the people for the Holy of Holies was turn in two.”[2]
Because of this miracle the writer to the
Hebrews says we now experience God in a new and living way. We can approach God with a “true heart in
full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil
conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” [3]
That’s what drew those early
believers into this fledgling church.
They had heard the good news of the Gospel. They had believed and received. They were born again and washed in the blood
of the lamb. They were excited about
their faith and the promises of God that it held and they were eager to share
it.
When the starting gun fired they
leapt out of the blocks and began to “run the race before them looking to Jesus
the pioneer and perfecter of their faith.”[4] They started out fast and they started out
strong but after a while some of them grew tired or bored so they dropped out
and they gave up. They thought Jesus was going to return soon and so they saw
faith as a hundred yard dash, but when he didn’t they realized this was a
marathon, a life-time commitment and that was too much.
That’s why the writer to the
Hebrews noted that some in the congregation were “neglecting to meet together”.
They were tired or they were bored so they found something else to do. He
thought that was bad for the soul for a couple of different reasons.
First, he said we need to gather
together so that we can, “hold fast to the confession of our hope without
wavering.”[5] He understood as parents everywhere
understand that we are influenced by those with whom we associate. That’s why
parents want to know who their kids are hanging around with. They get worried
when their daughter show up with a guy with a nose ring with scraggly hair
wearing a leather jacket that says “Hell’s Angels” on the pack. They know that the values of whoever they
hang around with will shape their views, and that will guide their decisions
and ultimately their lives.
This is true for adults as
well. We are not immune to the influence
of others. That’s why advertisers are
expected to pay five million dollars for a thirty second spot at the next Super
Bowl. They would not spend that kind of
money if they did not believe that some people may buy their beer or their car
or their soft drink because they saw this five million dollar 30 second
commercial.
The writer to the Hebrews believed that
if you want your faith to remain strong and if you want your spirit to thrive
and if you wish to be guided by God in the decisions you make and the action
you take you need to gather with those people who have the same goals. We need to run together he said so that we
can “encourage one another to love and good works.”
That’s the second reason why it is
important not to try and go it alone.
Some people believe that sleeping in and staying home and catching a
good sermon from a T.V. preacher is enough.
It’s the same Bible that is being taught after all so why do you need
anybody else?
The writer to the Hebrews believed
that when you stay at home you ironically lose home field advantage. Ask any athlete if he or she would rather
play in an empty stadium or play in front of a hometown crowd all rooting for
you success and cheering you on when you get tired and they’re sure to tell you
there is a home-field advantage. You dig
a little deeper, try a little harder, and find a little more within yourself
when you are surrounded by people who believe in you.
There is a difference between
watching the game on T.V. and going to the stadium with like-minded people cheering
for the black and gold.
The writer to the Hebrews said we
should “consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.”[6]
Notice how these two are connected. He
does not separate love from action. They
are joined together. One motivates the
other. And historically this has been
the strongest and more persuasive aspect of the Christian faith. People more often believe not because of what
they hear us say, but because of what they see us do.
I’ll give you an example. Ten years ago Hurricane Katrina devastated
the city of New Orleans and the gulf coast of Mississippi. Immediately the Presbyterian Church responded
through one of our more effective ministries called, “Presbyterian Disaster
Assistance”. They set up a base camp on
the grounds of the Luling Presbyterian Church just outside of New Orleans and
groups of volunteers from Presbyterian Churches around the country came and
stayed in tents at night and worked in flooded out houses during the day.
A group from the church I was
serving at the time went down. In fact
they went down about a dozen times. Now
I can tell you from personal experience that there is nothing like mucking out
a house that had been submerged under 10 feet of stinky and often polluted
waters. Because of the dangerous mold we had to wear filtered breathing masks
and cover every inch of our bodies with long pants and long sleeves and hard
hats in Louisiana in April.
The owner of the house I worked on
was a single mother in her 20’s. She had
a little boy about 3 or 4 and she told me when the water came up she took her son
into the attic, but the water continued to rise so now they were trapped. The only reason they survived is because she
found a hatchet and opened a hole in the roof to crawl out. She had no idea why the hatchet was
there. She hadn’t put it there and there
was nothing else in that attic. She saw
it as a blessing, or rather a miracle from God.
They were on that roof for two days
with no food and no water to drink before they were rescued, and even after
they were rescued she said they were given one bottle of water and one peanut
butter sandwich to share. Needless to
say she was very grateful we were there to help rebuild her home.
At the end of our week our group
went to classic New Orleans dive, a local restaurant where the blue-collar
locals went to eat. We ordered mountainous platters of crayfish with corn on
the cob and sausage on the top, and because the crayfish had some Cajun spice
some beer to wash it down.
Before our waitress went to get to
get our food she asked if we had come down to “work on the houses”. That’s the way she put it, “Work on the
houses”. I told her we just finished up
a week and were heading home. Then she said
in that rich New Orleans accent I couldn’t even begin to imitate, “What church
are ya’ll from?” None of us were wearing
our blue PDA shirts. We were dressed for
the plane ride home. We had not identified ourselves in anyway.
I told her and then I asked her,
“How did you know we were from a church?”
She said, “Church people are the only ones who are coming down to
help.” She went on to say, “the federal
program FEMA was slow to help and had too much paperwork”, the state government
was useless and the city government was corrupt.” (In fact the mayor is in
prison to this day.) The only people she
knew who were coming to help were from churches. That kind of witness and testimony was not
lost on her.
I saw the same thing in the Port-a-Prince
airport two months after the earthquake in Haiti. Most of the airport had been leveled so all
incoming and departing passenger were crammed into a room only three times the
size of our fellowship hall. Almost
everyone I saw was wearing a shirt something like this one, identifying the
church they had come from. They had come
to help because they believed that love and good works are connected. They are woven of the same cloth.
That’s why it is important we
gather together so that we can encourage one another to love and good works, so
that we can encourage one another to “hold fast the confession of our faith
without wavering”, so that we can encourage one another to “run the race that
is before us keeping our eyes fixed upon Jesus the author and perfecter of our
faith.”
Let us pray:
We thank you Lord, for those who have cared for us, who have
encouraged us. Help us become
encouragers so that we might consider how to stir one another to love and good
works. This we pray in the name of the
one who holds us with everlasting arms.
Amen.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
|
|
A sermon preached by
Dr. Gregory D. Seckman
Text: 1 Samuel 18:1–5
John 15:13-14
“FRIENDSHIP”
A while back I looked
at an old High School yearbook. On the
outside and inside covers people inscribed their sentiments and best wishes
before we graduated and went out into the world.
One of these in
particular spoke in almost poetic terms about how we would be “friends
forever.” That’s what it said, “friends
forever.” And as I read this
optimistic refrain, it occurred to me that not only did we not remain “friends
forever,” but I now no longer remembered this person at all. The name signed at the bottom drew a complete
blank.
In our fast paced and
ever-changing world, where in the course of life people may hold 8 or 10 or a
dozen different jobs and live in as many locations, it is hard to hold on to
friendships which endure. And so we
settle for acquaintances with whom we play golf or bridge. And we may call them friends, for we do enjoy
their company. But, there is a
fundamental difference between those kinds of social relationships, and the
relationship we see described between David, “a man after God’s own heart,”
and Jonathan, “the son of David’s most feared enemy.”
There is a spiritual
dimension to their relationship which is rare and precious. This spiritual focus will be picked up by
Jesus a thousand years later when he speaks of the relationship between himself
and his disciples. This is a quality of
human relationships that we all covet and desire. Nobody can have too many friends; yet
everyone is fortunate to have at least one good friend. As we examine this most profound of friendships,
maybe we will find a way to deepen our own.
Let us pray:
Gracious Lord, we come
to You as a people grateful for Your many and rich blessings. Of those we enjoy, perhaps the most profound
acts of grace are those we receive through good friends. Their encouragement lifts us up when we are
down, and their loving criticism brings us back to earth when we think too
highly of ourselves. Shared memories
hold us close across the miles and anticipated reunions propel us forward.
We thank you, Lord, that
even You have called us friends; for above all else, we wish to be like
Abraham, a “friend of God.” Grant that
we might bring the same commitment to our friendships with others that You have
shown toward us. This we pray in the
name of Jesus, who above all was called a “friend of sinners.” Amen.
(Matthew 11:19)
David is now fresh from
the battlefield where he had gone up against a giant named Goliath. Where Goliath had been armed to the teeth,
David carried only a sling, five stones, and a prayer. And of those, it was the prayer that mattered
most. For the giant fell and David was
carried off that field by Hebrew soldiers who had, moments earlier, cowered in
fear. It was a tremendous victory. Now it was the time for accolades and
celebration.
And the people sang:
“Saul has slain his
thousands,
and David his tens of
thousands.”
1
Samuel 18:7
David was carried on
the shoulders of those singing soldiers and brought to Saul, the King, to hear
the words, “well done!” And maybe
receive a medal or a key to the city.
But, there were no words of congratulations and there was no medal
presented.
Sometimes Right is not
rewarded;
Sometimes Good is
cursed and not blessed;
Sometimes courage is
met with cowardice and the coward prevails.
So, on the day of
David’s greatest victory, a rivalry was born that would last for years, and
force David to live as a refugee on the run.
For, Saul the King was as happy as anyone that Goliath’s threat lay in a
blood-stained-heap in the valley of Socoh.
But he was angry and jealous and bitter to hear the accolades of the
people showered upon this adolescent who had done little more than get lucky
with sling and stone.
Saul saw David as a
potential rival: a rival for his people’s affection, a rival for political
power, and eventually, a rival even for the love of his own children. He let that hatred and jealousy consume him,
and eventually bring him down. His anger
flamed first with an attempt at manslaughter.
In the heat of passion, David’s soothing music stirred within Saul some
evil spirit and Saul threw a spear inches from David’s head (1 Samuel 18:11).
The heat of his jealousy soon cooled to cold-blooded and pre-meditated attempts
at murder. On six separate occasions, Saul
will seek David’s head. On six separate
occasions, David will barely escape with his life. More than once, David will owe his salvation
to Jonathan—Saul’s first born son, and David’s friend.
Their relationship
began the same day Saul’s enmity was born.
In the scripture’s succinct fashion, the writer reveals that on that day
of David’s victory, the “soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and
Jonathan loved him as his own soul” (1 Samuel 18:1). A lifelong friendship was formed.
I believe this
relationship was formed by the hand of God.
The reason I say this is because the Hebrew word kshara (which is
translated knit) is used in the passive form. It implies that David and Jonathan were
recipients of this special blessing. I
believe their friendship was an act of God’s grace. This was not something either one set out to
create. For this was a friendship which
should have never been. Both were
competing for the same job—to be the future king. On the surface, they had little in
common. Jonathan was a child of the
palace born into privilege and power; David was but a shepherd boy. Even so, a friendship was born that day and I
believe it was God who gave it birth—who acted as a mid-wife, if you will—to
the creation of this relationship. I
believe God did that because God understands how important that kind of
relationship is to you and me.
This friendship and, in
fact, all real friendships are special, because it is with those special people
that we feel most free to be who we really are.
In fact the word “friend springs from the same old English root as
does our word for ‘freedom’” (Christianity Today, March 8, 1993, pg. 17).
Good friends not only allow us to take off the masks, but they
encourage us to do so. They create a
space in which we feel free to reveal the doubts and disappointments, the fears
and the failures. They also allow us to
celebrate with laughter the foibles, follies, and feelings that come with those
embarrassing moments that only friends can share. A good friend will lift us up when we are
down, and, through criticism born of love, bring us back down to earth when we
think too highly of ourselves.
The reason this is
possible is because there is a sense of trust that, above all, this friend only
desires your greater good.
Bill Bennet said, “Friends
should be allies of our better natures” (Book of Virtues, pg. 269). Our friends want to bring out the best in us.
Siddharta Gautoma, whom the world knows as the
Buddha, once described a good friend in this way:
He guards you when you
are off your guard.
Buddha, Sigalovad Suttant, Dialogues of the Buddha, Oxford:
University Press, 1921, III, 177)
The Bible echoes this
refrain when it says:
Two are better than
one...if one falls down, his friend can help him up.
Ecclesiastes
4:9-10
Nowhere was the truth
of this statement better seen than in the life of the nineteenth century poet,
Samuel Coleridge. If you’re like me, you
remember him as the author of the poems everyone in high school had to read, “Rime
of the Ancient Mariner” and “Kubla Kahn.”
Coleridge gained fame
early. He was a distinguished scholar,
poet, and playwright. “But none of
these achievements satisfied the emptiness in his heart for friendship. By the age of twenty-four, he had turned to
drugs to deaden the resounding loneliness.” (Swindoll, Charles, Behold
Christ..The Lamb of God, pg. 9)
Eventually, he did form
a lasting friendship with another poet, William Wordsworth, and a physician,
James Gillman. During the last eighteen
years of his life, Coleridge rarely left the Gillman home. While much of Coleridge’s poetry focuses on
tragedy and the emptiness of life, one poem he wrote from the Gillman home, “Youth
and Age,” contained one elegant stanza:
Friendship is a
sheltering tree.
The branches that
shelter us are seen in the words of Jesus to his disciples the day he changed
their relationship. Up to this point
they followed a time-honored pattern of teacher and student. Jesus was the Rabbi, the teacher, explaining
to them the nature of God, revealing to them hidden truths, and instructing
them as to “how they should then live.”
And they, as dutiful students, took notes, and listened attentively, and
did their best to make their teacher proud.
But on this day Jesus
said,
Greater love has no one
than this, that a man should lay down his life for his friends. No longer do I call you servants, for the
servant does not know what his master is doing.
But I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father
I have made known to you. You did not
choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit. This I command you—to love one another.
John
15:13-17
The scripture records
no response from Peter and John and James that day, but I am sure it must have
been profound. For God had been seen as
distant, powerful, and holy. God was
separate. God may be feared, but never
considered a friend. Yet now, Jesus, as
close to God as any had ever known, offered his hand of friendship. And the freedom, which friendship implies,
follows. He promises to guard us when we
are off our guard, to be an ally of our better natures. The masks of ritual and routine, once thought
to be so necessary for approaching God, were taken off, and a fresh breeze of
God’s Spirit blew across their faces.
And what a difference that makes.
In a moment we will
sing a favorite Gospel hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” There is a story behind that hymn I’d
like you to know. It was written by an
Irishman named Joseph Scriven. In the
year 1842, he graduated from the University of Dublin with his Bachelor of Arts
degree. He was twenty-three years old
and the world was his oyster. He was to
marry his high school sweetheart and begin a new job. Everything was as it should be. But, on the evening before their wedding day,
his bride-to-be tragically drowned in a boating accident.
In grief, he fled to
North America, settling on the shores of Lake Ontario. He made his living as a teacher and passed
his days as best he could. But grief is
a heavy burden and he was drowning in his own way in his own sorrow. Life had no taste nor flavor. Until one evening, thirteen years later, with
nowhere else to turn, he poured out his heart to God, begging for relief from
his burden.
And God answered his
prayer in the way only God’s Spirit can.
The burden was lifted from his heart, and his life re-born. That night he took pen to paper and wrote
these words:
What a friend we have
in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear;
What a privilege to
carry Everything to God in prayer.
O what peace we often
forfeit, O what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not
carry Everything to God in prayer.
Emurian,
Ernest, Living Stories of Famous Hymns, Baker. Pg 138
Good friends are easy
to take for granted, like our spouses and even like the Lord. We just count on each always being
there. But, every human relationship
needs nurturing; every friendship needs some time together; every spouse needs
to hear “I love you;” and, even God needs to hear us pray and say “I
love you.”
So, this afternoon you
may want to call or write or visit that “old friend.” This afternoon you may want to surprise your
spouse and just say “I love you.”
This afternoon you may want to “carry everything to God in prayer...What
a friend we have in Jesus.”
[Refer to hymn 403 in
The Presbyterian Hymnal.]
Monday, August 3, 2015
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Sanctuary
1 Samuel 21:1-6
Matthew 12:1-8
The Youth Group meeting
was technically over, but a few of the kids were hanging around the church
kitchen, just talking and casually munching on a bag of “snacks” they found in
the refrigerator. I happened to wander
in and noticed that their new found munchies were actually the communion wafers
that a woman in the congregation specially baked for that church. She was of
Scotch descent so they did kind of resemble Scottish shortbread, and they were
tasty. But, they were not “snacks.”
When I told the kids
that their snack was actually the communion bread that we would soon consecrate
to God in celebration of the Holy Supper which marked the crucifixion and death
of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, their jaws dropped; their faces turned
white, and they immediately dropped the bag as if electric.
Now, I did assure them
that God would not strike them with a lightning bolt, and that this was, after
all, just a mistake. But, I must admit
that I was inwardly pleased to see that they at least had some appreciation
that they were handling something holy, something which was to be set apart for
sacred use.
Today, there is a
declining regard for the holy, and few things are seen as being sacred anymore. Our values are such that nearly everything is
measured in utilitarian terms. We only
value what is useful for us, and if it is not, it is easily discarded. Many measure even God in those terms. God is important only to the degree that God
does something for us, fulfills our wishes and dreams, or helps us to avoid
discomfort. If God does not measure up
to those expectations, God is dumped.
Yet, when life crashes over us like the waves of a
nor’easter, when problems swirl around us like a tornado, when people pound
upon us like hailstones stinging at our flesh, we all search for a sanctuary, a
special and sacred place where we might rest and find shelter, where our souls
will be revived.
In the scripture we
focus on this morning, the hero of the story, David, is a refugee on the
run. He is a fugitive from the king’s
wrath. He is pursued with almost canine persistence by the captain of Saul’s
guard, a man who appropriately is called Doeg the Edomite. Exhausted and worn out, David stumbles upon a
priest called Ahimelech and he seeks sanctuary.
Before we explore fully
what he seeks and finds, let us pray that we might find what we seek in this
sanctuary and in this time of worship:
Lord, it seems as if there are times we can barely drag ourselves into
this place and at this time. The events
of this week sometimes leave us exhausted, and battered, and maybe,
confused. And, we face a coming week
that may look worse than the last.
So, in this in-between time, we seek sanctuary and rest and
comfort. We pray, O Lord, in this sacred
moment, that Your Spirit shall “renew us with wings like eagles” (Isaiah
40:30). We ask for the strength to face
a new tomorrow. “[L]ead us beside the
still water, and restore our souls...for Your name sake” (Psalm 23:2). Amen.
David’s reputation and
the giant-killer had preceded him. So,
when he arrived at Ahimelech’s doorstep, we find the priest trembling,
scared-to-death. It’s not clear whether
the priest is apprehensive about David or is afraid of David’s sworn enemy King
Saul who might take umbrage at anyone who helps David. In either case the priest knew he was in the
middle of something that he could not control, that he could easily find
himself at the center of a fire-storm of swirling politics. He was after all
just a quiet country parson.
David made a feeble
attempt at subterfuge, telling the priest that he is actually serving the king
and not running from him. But Nob was
only a few miles from Jerusalem, and word travels fast so the priest knew the
score. David’s ragged appearance and his
eyes, looking hungrily about for something to eat, revealed his refugee status.
Here the priest in
Ahimelech really comes out. The pastor in him wanted to feed this hungry man,
for that is the way of pastors. But, the priest in him wanted to guard what is
sacred and keep it holy, for that is the way of priests. The only food in the house was called the “shewbread” or “bread of the Presence”
(Exodus 25:30). The command from the
Torah was very specific. The priest was
to guard this sacred offering to God from Sabbath to Sabbath. And even at the end of the week, only the
priest might eat it. (Thus began a long
tradition of giving clergy the leftovers.)
This part of the story
is difficult for many in our modern world to understand. Bread is bread after all and if David is
hungry the priest should share. But, the priest believed it was his obligation
to protect that which is holy and sacred from becoming something that is plain
and ordinary. He believed that if
nothing is sacred then everything is ordinary and if everything is ordinary
life loses some of its luster and mystery, some of its meaning and
purpose. It becomes gray and flat,
meaningless and mundane.
I remember years ago
when our family traveled to England. We were touring the grand cathedral in
York with its high soaring ceiling held up not by wooden beam, but by pillars
of stones. The sun shone brilliantly through colorful stained glass windows and
the chancel soared high carved out dark English walnut. As soon as we entered my oldest, I think 15
at the time, immediately stopped talking and took off his hat out of respect. Now, I didn’t tell him to do that. We never talked
about proper decorum when visiting a cathedral.
He just knew he was in a sacred space.
He just knew this was no ordinary place.
What are our sacred
spaces today? What places do people
recognize as being special? For some it
is a football stadium. They look forward all year to the first day of the
season. They come early. They set up
communal meals in the parking lot. They dress differently wearing the holy and
sacred colors of black and gold. They
make sacrifices to be there. It is expensive to go. They block out their
calendars and they will let nothing intrude on that holy moment when kickoff
raises a cheer.
There are other sacred
spaces and places. Randy was telling me about one of his honor choir trips to
New York City. One of the places they
visited was ground zero, the place where the twin towers were brought to the
ground by jetliners driven Al Qaeda terrorists.
He said when he arrived
he immediately knew he was in a sacred place.
He knew it was to be respected, because he remembered that day on
September 11. He remembered how he felt when he saw the pictures of twin towers
falling. He knew where he was and what
he was doing when he first heard. Most of you do as well, but the kids in his
honor choir did not. Most of them were
only two or three years old when that happened. They kind of knew the story,
but they did not know the feeling, so Randy had to explain it to them. He had to teach them.
That’s what Ahimilech
was trying to do with David. He was
trying to teach him the difference between the sacred and the ordinary, the
special day and every day.
But, Ahimelech the
“priest” was also a “pastor” he could not use the sacred to starve the
hungry. The pastor prevailed, but only
after precautions were taken to assure that David would understand the
sacredness of this moment and not receive this gift lightly. But receive the gift he did. The “bread
of the Presence” of God was broken and given to David. He found sanctuary, he found rest, and his
soul was revived. It was perhaps this
day he would later describe in this way:
On the day I called, thou didst answer me,
my strength of soul thou dist increase.
Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
thou dost preserve my life.
Psalm
138:3, 7
A thousand years later,
a son of David, sometimes called the Good Shepherd, was walking with his
disciples through a field on the Sabbath day. They were hungry and casually ate
some of kernels of grain they had gleaned from the stalks as they were going
along. This did not go un-noticed by the Pharisees who criticized Jesus’
friends for harvesting grain which they saw as working on the Sabbath day. The rules on that were very clear. Like Ahimelech they were just trying to
protect the sanctity of the day lest the Sabbath day become ordinary like any
other day. They did not want what eventually happened in Pennsylvania when the
blue laws were overturned.
Some of you are old
enough to remember when Sunday was not like Saturday or any other day of the
week. You remember Sunday dinners and
family gathering. You remember when it
was a day of rest and not for shopping.
Some of you I think even miss the easy pace of those days.
That’s all the
Pharisees were trying to do, but Jesus like Ahimelech understood that God
created sacred space and places and times as a blessing and not a curse. That’s why Jesus said, “The Sabbath was made
for man and not man for the Sabbath.” We
need these sacred places and spaces and special times to separate them from
everything else that is ordinary, but they are not a prison. They are a hospital to help us get
better. They are a family gathering
where we feel loved. They are a gas station
from which we get energy to face another week.
When we come to this
table and to this place and to this time, we come to a sacred moment and we
stand on Holy Ground so that “we might
become aware that there’s more to life than meets the eye, and that ‘more’ is God”
(Peterson, Eugene, Leap over a Wall, pg. 64).
David finds more than
rest and sustenance in that sanctuary at Nob.
He also finds the means to continue that “good fight.” Here’s a
good question for you the next time you play a game of trivial pursuit. After David killed Goliath, what happened to
Goliath’s sword? The answer—it ended up
as kind of a souvenir relic stored at this sanctuary at Nob. For, when Doeg the Edomite comes knocking at
the door seeking David’s head, David asks the priest if he has any
weapons. Ahimelech drags out Goliath’s
sword (1 Samuel 21:8-9).
Rested, refreshed,
renewed and now armed, David leaves that place and goes out into his world to “fight that good fight.” The sanctuary was not a place to hide from
the problems of the world, but only a place of renewal.
Eugene Peterson
described it this way:
Wonderful things happen in sanctuaries.
On the run we stop at a holy place and find that there’s more to life
than meets the eye.... We perceive God
in and around and beneath us. New life
surges up within us. We discover a piece
of our lives we had thought long gone restored to us, remember an early call of
God, a place of prayer, a piece of evidence that God saves.... But terrible things also happen in
sanctuaries. We can use a religious
ritual to insulate ourselves from people we have come to despise.... Every time we enter a holy place and become
aware of the presence of a holy God, we leave either better or worse. “we
become aware that there’s more to life than meets the eye, and that ‘more’ is
God”
Ibid.
pg 69
As this bread will soon
be consecrated, broken, and offered, remember this is not a snack—it is sacred;
it is not hollow; it is holy. Receive this
gift of God to “renew of right
spirit,” and then go back out into your world and “fight the good fight of faith” (1
Timothy 6:12).
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