Today's Sermon - Creating New Heavens and a New Earth - 11/17/19

Creating a New Heaven and a New Earth

(based on Isaiah 65:17-25, Luke 21:5-19)

Last week I was in a meeting with the Administrative Commission for Transformation, before we began the meeting we spent a half hour in a time of devotions.  This passage from our Old Testament Reading this morning was used with the practice of Lectio Divina.  We’ve tried this practice a couple of years ago.  Lectio Divina is a monastic practice of reading scripture, meditation, and prayer.  It often requires a multiple reading of the text to help us more fully engage with the passage in order to allow the words of the passage to dwell in us.  It is not so much a practice of pulling the words apart in an exegetic rending of the original meaning of the words in the Greek or Hebrew, following by a theological contextual breakdown of the time and place of the writing, concluding with an understanding of what the passage might mean for us today.  Rather, it is allowing the scripture to more fully dwell in our hearts, minds, spirits and souls as if Scripture were truly the Living Word that allows us to have an increased knowledge of the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives, now.

So, this morning I’d like for us to try this practice with this passage from Isaiah.  We’ve already read it once during our regular reading of the Old Testament.  You may have listened and been paying attention, although most often on a first reading of something our minds wander a bit and sometimes it’s helpful to read it again to help concentrate.  So, let’s read it a second time.  This time take note of words, groups of words or concepts that catch your attention or jump out at you.  We’ll then have a moment of silence while you contemplate on those words or phrases.  Then I’ll read it for the third and last time.  During this third reading, think about what those words or phrases that you had earlier identified are revealing to you.

We will openly share those words or phrases and I’ll offer a meditation on what stood out for me.

          Read passage

          Silence

          Read passage again.

          Brief Silence

          Ask for communal sharing of words/phrases.

          When this passage was first read, I remembered this passage as a prophetic reminder of what heaven will be like.  I’d always seen this as God preparing us for a new heaven and a new earth that will one day be when God’s time has been fulfilled for us to leave this earth, whether in spirit or in body to enter into the joy of God’s presence and go to heaven.  Sort of like an earlier version of John’s Revelation we read in the New Testament.

          But upon reading and listening to this passage a second time, new words and phrases caught my attention.  Verse 20 in particular, “No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.”

          Wait a minute.  If this passage is about God bringing into existence a new heaven and a new earth that are to represent eternity when we are with God and in God’s presence, what’s this business about birth and death.  My understanding of our time in eternity is supposed to be devoid of these kinds of things.  How can there be death in heaven?  This passage had me rethinking the whole of this section in Isaiah.

          Hearing it read a third time, got me to concentrate on the whole of the passage in a different light.  It begins with “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.”  If this isn’t about eternity, then it must be about the here and now.  God is going to do this creation of a new heaven and a new earth sometime BEFORE eternity arrives.  But the whole passage sounds so much like what we envision heaven to be like when we are finally in God’s presence, at heaven’s gate, worshipping in front of the throne, inhabiting the homes that Jesus’ has prepared for us, doesn’t it?

          If this is not about heaven and what eternity will be like and it’s about the here and now BEFORE eternity arrives, what does that mean?

Again, this passage starts with “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.”  Part of our trouble is we suffer from a shrunken timeline.  We bet God won’t do the new heavens and earth thing this afternoon or next week, but we have a very difficult time thinking that God might do it a generation from now or a century from now, either.  However, Israel knew about waiting — not a week, month or year but decades, gosh, even centuries.  And yet the expectation kept them alive, fresh, eager, hopeful that “even centuries” might dawn soon.  God has begun the new thing already, even if unseen.   What’s even more exciting about that is that we have always been co-creators with God.  God doesn’t do these things alone.  God works in the lives of humans to make things happen.

If we don’t like how something is being done, we have the ability to change it.  We are co-creators with God.  God might be bringing about this new heaven and new earth, but God will only be doing it through the work and thoughtfulness of faithful people.  That is the process by which God has always worked in the world.

So, if God is about to create new heavens and a new earth, God will be doing it through people like you and me.  The injustices of the world will be corrected by people like you and me.  Hunger will be satisfied by people like you and me.  Racial inequality will be corrected by people like you and me.  When we see good happening in the world, it should be amplified and copied.  When we see tragedy in the world, we should embrace the mourners and work together to fix the problem.  This is how God creates new heavens and a new earth and whereby Jerusalem becomes a joy.

Isaiah 65 is a gargantuan vision of what God is on the verge of doing.  But this passage is one of the now.  God is already at work doing this.  God is already working in the lives of us human beings to make the new heavens and a new earth the reality Isaiah speaks about.  But we have to want it and become a part of it, too.

How dumbfounding must it have been for Iron Age people to hear that all infants will live into old age?   Walter Brueggemann rightly points out that infant mortality is “an index of the quality of community life.”  Where in our country or in the world is infant mortality on the rise or simply too high?  Is that where we go to see what God might do while we are witnesses and co-laborers there?  Another index is housing.  Isaiah dreams of a day that the people will build houses and live in them — which sounds obvious, but Abraham Lincoln denounced what went on in slavery and still goes on in our tiered society: Some build, others enjoy; some plant and harvest, while others reap the benefit.  This is not what God had in mind for the new heavens and new earth.  It is not what this passage in Isaiah speaks about.  God dreams of an egalitarian kind of community.

 Brueggemann’s summary of our text is spot on, calling it “a glorious artistic achievement. It is also an act of a daring, theological faith that refuses to be curbed by present circumstance.  This poet knows that Yahweh’s coming newness is not contained within our present notions of the possible.”  God really is bigger than our imaginations.  God really is more compassionate than we dream God might be.  God really delights in us, which doesn’t seem so possible, does it?  But, isn’t Scripture all about what isn’t possible.

Today's Sermon - Abundance - 11/10/19

Abundance

(based on Haggai 2:1-9, Luke 21:1-4)

Today’s story from Luke can also be found in the Gospel according to Mark and has been called the story of the widow's mite – two copper coins, the equivalent of less than a penny.  These copper coins represented the sum of all she had in the world and in dropping these coins into the treasury for her Temple offering, she received the praise of Jesus as he addressed and taught his disciples.  The story is generally perceived to be one about giving and clearly that element is there.  

But there is another element to this story that perhaps we fail to see, especially if we connect it to the passages we read from Haggai this morning.  

Jesus had just been watching the Pharisees in their giving practices.  Here’s where we’re talking big bucks.  And they were quite open about their giving.  Everyone knew their giving record; indeed, they made a point that everyone knew it.  It was in the light of that that Jesus pointed out this widow.  Picture Jesus sitting now with the leaders of the temple—the Sadducees— observing the people as they come in and watching their donations.  There is no paper money in Christ’s day, so the offering coins make quite a loud noise as they roll down this long horn shaped object and fall into the pool of other coins.  So here comes this little old lady and she has two small copper coins worth nothing and drops them in.   They barely make a noise.  You can almost see the Temple leaders as they roll their eyes and hope for better results with the next person who walks in the door.  Jesus then calls his Disciples over and says, “This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.”  To the Sadducees this woman is a waste of time but to Jesus she is the stuff by which Kingdoms are erected. 

Let’s go back for a moment to the story from Haggai.  The word of the Lord came to Haggai in the second year, in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day during the reign of King Darius.  This word of the Lord was that Haggai was to go to speak to the governor of Judah, the high priest in Judah, and to the remnant of the people that were back in the land after their exile.

He told them to look at the ruins of the temple and asked if any of them remember it when it was in its former glory.  We could probably do the same today.  One commentator I read about preaching this passage said;

To ancient Judeans, and to today’s church, the Word through Haggai summons us to “take courage” — three times! And why? “The Lord is with you.” As Sam Wells rightly named in his A Nazareth Manifesto, “with” is the most important theological word in the Bible.  God is with us: this is the Old Testament’s constant story, the very nickname Jesus was given (Emmanuel), and his parting words at his Ascension.  God doesn’t fix everything or shelter us from unpleasantness, but God is with us.  Somehow, ultimately, that is enough.

The promise, “The latter splendor will be greater than the former,” is ostensibly about a cooler, more magnificent temple yet to be built.  We might read Haggai’s promise and wonder if our church, with its crumbling denominations and ever-lessening profile in society, will enter a new era of glory, not defined by size or institutions but by holiness and a radical embodiment of what church was supposed to be about all along.

Frederick Buechner’s old quote might pertain: “Maybe the best thing that could happen to the church would be if the buildings were lost, the bulletins blown away by the wind, the institutions all gone — and then all we’d have left would be Jesus and each other, which was all we had in the first place.”

Our building is not in ruins, but the pews are less full than they once were, correct?  I could ask you the same questions that Haggai asked perhaps.  How many of you remember the days when the pews were full, and the building’s usage was in its former glory?  How does it look to you now?  Is it not in your sight as nothing?

Now, here is the word of the Lord that came to Haggai to share with the people.

Yet now take courage, O members (of Olivet, of Bethesda), take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you, according to the promise that I made you when I brought you out of Egypt (or when you formed this worshipping community, when you erected this building here in this town.)  My spirit abides among you; says the Lord, do not fear.  Once again, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendor.  The silver is mine, and the gold is mine.  The latter splendor of this house will be greater than the former and, in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord.

Thus, at its heart, the widow's mite is not just a story about giving, it’s really a story about whose we are and our motivation.  The key phrases in the Haggai passage is; “My spirit abides among you, do not fear.  I am with you, says the Lord.”  That’s the motivation behind what God is asking them to see and to invest in.

Why do we do what we do?  What do we hope to achieve by our giving?  What is our motivation?  The Pharisees and Sadducees gave to receive peer recognition.  And, as Jesus said, they received their reward.  People praised them.  The woman, on the other hand, gave out of love for God because God dwelled in her.  And according to Jesus, she also received her reward.  The rewards are as different as night and day.  One is measured by wealth in material things and the other is measured in wealth that is immaterial, personal, and can only be experienced…here…(thump chest) in the heart and soul of a person.

The first motivation for giving is that we give of ourselves.  In speaking of his Gentile churches, the Apostle Paul said: “First we gave of ourselves, and then we gave of our resources.”  Too many of us have gotten it backwards.

Giving is an outgrowth of who you are.  It is the inevitable result of a changed heart.  As we surrender ourselves to God and to loving our community and neighbor then we will want to give our time, our energy, and our financial resources too. 

Secondly, your money follows your heart.  Jesus worded it this way: where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.  And this principle is true in other areas as well.  Take the stewardship of time for example.  Have you ever noticed how your time follows your interests?  You get interested in something and you invest in it--both with time and money.  We go where our heart leads us.  We follow with time and money where our heart has gone.

A third motivation is to give not because the church bills need to be paid but because we are moved by a sense of gratitude.  I have long suspected that the church universal has taken the wrong approach to stewardship and it’s one of the reasons why I don’t push stewardship drives very much.  In most stewardship campaigns people see a line item budget that details what our expenses will be for the coming year.  It’s mostly boring unless you’re the kind of person that likes numbers and few people ever read it.  Most people just look at the bottom line.  And it perpetuates the concept that you are to give in proportion to what the bills/expenses are going to be.  Regardless of what our bills are going to be, we should be giving out of a sense of thanksgiving and joy, not necessarily just to pay the bills.

Are we willing to leap into God’s grace and see where God is leading us?  Not just your money, but also your time and your energy and your life for God?

Just as a reminder; God is with us, we are all in God’s hands, at all times.

The widow’s mite; her two small coins, aren’t just about giving money.  It’s about giving of ourselves, following our hearts, out of generosity for all that’s been given to us.  If a dirt-poor widow (one of the lowest on the economic and social order of Jesus’ day) can give all that she has out of generosity for what has been given to her, we can certainly give because of who’s we are, where our heart leads us, and out of our extravagant abundance.

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.

Today's Sermon - Little Man - 11/3/19

Little Man

(based on Luke 19:1-10)

Z:      I woke up this morning feeling a bit out of sorts.    I felt empty, useless, without motivation or conviction.  I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.  This uneasiness made me start thinking back on my life. 

I remember growing up in a pretty regular family.  My brothers and sisters were always around.  We did our morning chores, ran off to school, tried to remember our lessons and came home to do more chores and play in the streets with the other neighborhood kids before it was time for dinner.  Nothing out of the ordinary or different.  Until the rest of my brothers and sisters started to grow, but not me.  I’d always been the smallest of my siblings, but they started getting a lot taller and filling out in ways that I simply didn’t.  My older brother (who was only a year older than me) was already half a foot taller than me.  I was about the same size as my baby sister who was four years younger, and even she was beginning to outgrow me.  My brothers and the other neighborhood boys would wrestle with one another, run races, and horse around.  Even the younger kids could pin me down on the ground, outpace me in every race, and easily overpower me.  Sometimes even the girls would do it just for a bit of “fun”.  All the kids teased me, mercilessly, about how small I was.

I started spending more and more time helping Dad at his shop in town and spending less time with kids my age.  When he didn’t have anything for me to do, I’d head back home and peek in on Mom to see if she needed anything done in the house.  She’d shooed my outside and tell me to go play with the other kids.  Dejected, I’d slowly wander back out to the streets to watch the other kids play.  Eventually, I’d just sit and think.

One day, as I sat on the side of the street, playing with a handful of stones, counting them and putting them into piles of different sizes, my dad came over and sat down with me.  He told me that I shouldn’t be so sad.  I was smarter than the rest of my brothers and sisters.  He told me to not worry about being so small, that one day I’d grow up to be bigger than most of them; I just needed to be patient and wait for my time to become big and strong like them.  

Well, I tried to be patient and wait, but nothing changed.  Instead, I started to spend more and more time on my lessons.  I was the first to know the answer to every question the rabbi asked us.  In fact, as my Father had noted, I was smarter than boys much older than me.  At first, I thought this would make me feel worthy of the other kid’s affects, but it only made them tease me more.

As a young adult, having an affinity for numbers, I apprenticed with the money changers at the temple.  Eventually, I became the local tax collector.  Every move I made helped me gain a little more confidence.  I was beginning to be respected in ways I hadn’t been as a child.  I knew important people and therefore, people wanted to know me.  Unfortunately, I soon realized that most people didn’t really want to know me, they only wanted to use me.

This made me angry.  Why couldn’t people see me for who I was?  Why couldn’t people appreciate the person I’d become from the child I’d been?  This bothered me for a long time.  I watched people come and ingratiate themselves in order to get something from me, perhaps an introduction to someone of higher standing, perhaps an audience with the chief priest or even a Roman official.  Afterall, I knew them all.

Somewhere along the line, I stopped caring about them and what they thought of me or what they wanted from me and started wondering what I could get from them.  I was the tax collector, everyone had to come to me.  Well, if they wanted my favors, they’d simply have to pay for them.  That’s when I started extracting just a tad more of their tax money.  Interestingly enough, the more I required of them, the more favors they asked of me.  And I grew in power and prestige.  I worked my way all the way up to become the head tax collector in Jericho for the Jewish people.  I had the power I’d lacked as a child.  I was rich.  I had a beautiful home.  I had lots of servants.  And people groveled at my feet for the tiniest of favors.  I knew they spoke poorly about me behind my back, but by now, I didn’t really care.  I pretty much had everything I’d dream of.  This is what they’d wanted from me, so this is what I’d gotten and what I’d become.

In so doing, I’d spent my entire life building a wall between myself and others to stave off the feelings of hatred, anger, and isolation, but suddenly this morning that isolation felt depressing.

I’d heard about this Jesus, an itinerant rabbi who was stirring up the crowds, healing the sick, speaking against the hypocrisy of the scribes and the Pharisees.  I silently reveled in his rebellious nature, to go against the grain.  But I realized that I wasn’t any different than the scribes or Pharisees.  I, too, was a hypocrite – just a different kind.  I had wanted to be good, I had wanted to be loved and cared about for me, but the children of my youth and those I came into contact with as an adult who teased me and made fun of me for being so small and feeling unimportant made me what I was.  Deep down I’d felt that I wasn’t just a cheat and a scrounger, that I really did want people’s loyalty and their affection for the man that I was, or at least the man I could have become.  But what I was on the outside was just that – a cheat and a scrounger - a man who exacted a price for attention and a repayment of the relentless teasing I’d gotten as a child and the back-stabbing I’d endured as an adult.

This Jesus was on his way to Jericho and for some reason I wanted to see him.  I don’t know why, but I needed to see him.  I knew the crowds would be heavy.  How would I be able to see him, I wondered?  How would I be able to see over the heads of all those who came out today to get a glimpse of this man?  As the morning advanced, I became more interested in seeing this Jesus.  I realized that it was a bit irrational, but somehow, I felt that I really NEEDED to see him; more importantly, I needed him see me.

Suddenly, I had an idea.

As I walked quickly down the street from my house, I arrived at the place where I thought I might be able to see him.  There was a sycamore tree that branched heavily over the street.  I climbed unto his branches and found a good resting place to wait for him.   Shortly after I arrived, I heard the crowd get more excited and the commotion begin.  He was headed in our direction.  Within just a few short minutes, there he was standing with his followers underneath the tree.  Looking up at me, he spoke.

J:      Zacchaeus, hurry up and come down from that tree.  I want to stay at your house today.

Z:      I was astounded.  He noticed me.  And he actually spoke my name.  My thoughts ran wild.  How had he known my name?  I quickly came down from the tree.  Landing on the ground, I again, could not see him.  The crowd of the people close in on me and I felt dwarfed by their presence.  I felt the stares of all those who’d teased me as a child, hated me as an adult, and mocked me behind my back.  I started to hear the whispers begin – Why would Jesus speak to him?  Why would Jesus even want to be with such a sinner?  What right does he have?  Zacchaeus is a cheat and a scoundrel – a horrible little man.

J:      Zacchaeus.

Z:      I heard him say my name again and the crowd began to part.  As they moved aside to let me through, a pathway emerged and there he was in front of me.  I looked up into his face and saw compassion.  The kind I’d only ever seen before in my parent’s eyes.  The kind that made my heart leap within me and filled my soul with something other than contempt for my fellow man.  Tears began to well in my eyes.  What in the world is wrong with you, I thought?  I quickly brushed them aside and walked toward Jesus.

J:      Let’s go to your house, Zacchaeus.  I’d like to spend some time with you today.

Z:      Why does he want to spend time with me, I wondered the same things as the crowd did.  All the inadequacies came flooding back.  I felt like a little child again, unworthy of someone’s affections, unworthy to be called friend, unworthy of all the human kindnesses others are easily afforded.  The crowds followed behind us as I led the way to my home.  I desperately wanted to show Jesus the best of all I had.  I wanted to flood him with gifts, to offer his followers a place to stay, a meal to eat.  I sent for my servants to quickly make preparations for the most important visitor.  As we laid down at the table, the servants brought a feast.  The brought bread and wine, vegetables from the garden and an ox roast that had been cooking on the fires all morning.  Jesus remained silent through most of the meal, but kept watching me.  At first, this made me self-conscious and uncomfortable, but the more he watched, the more relaxed I became.  At last he spoke.

J:      Tell me, Zacchaeus, what is it that you want?

Z:      All I wanted was for Jesus to see value and virtue in me.  But mostly I wanted a peace, a peace I’d never known.  A peace in my spirit and soul that knew I was a good man deep down inside, a peace that knew I was not a sinner, but a man of God.  As he looked deep in my eyes, I knew what I needed to do.  Regardless of how others had treated me, I needed to show them the value of my heart.  Yes, I was a sinner.  Yes, I had cheated people out of money that did not belong to me.  And I needed to make reparations for my sin.

Z:      “Jesus,” I said, “I want peace in knowing that I’ve corrected my mistakes and want others to know that I have a good heart.  Actually, that’s not entirely correct.  I need to know that I have a good heart.  Therefore, I will give back four times whatever I have taken to whomever I have wronged”

J:      Zaccheaus, salvation has come to this house today.  What did you see that made you desire this peace?

Z:      Master, I saw – mirrored in your eyes – the face of the Zaccheaus I was meant to be.

The most important reason for this church to exist is the hope that once in a while, in sermon or in song, or through the friendships we make, we catch a glimpse of what we were meant to be.

Grant us the imagination, gracious God, to see the face of love and trust, and be drawn by it to a nobler life through Christ our Lord.

AMEN.

Today's Sermon - Finish the Race - 10/27/19

Finish the Race

Nearly an hour after the medalists had taken their victory lap on Sunday, October 1, in the year 2000, three lonely marathoners made their way into the Olympic Stadium – but drawing even more cheers than the winners.

First came Jose Alejandro Semprun of Venezuela, carefully plodding his way into the stadium more than 20 minutes after the previous marathoner.  He circled the track, finishing 79th and coming within two seconds of finishing in three hours.

Semprun, who was 27 years old at the time, approached the finish line as the time clock ticked away those crucial seconds toward that all important 3 hour mark, the crowd tried to will him to go just a tiny bit faster, but he just couldn't do it.  The clock read 3:00.02 at the end of his race.

Then came Rithya To of Cambodia, who smiled and raised his arms to the adoring crowd as he slowly covered the final 20 yards.  Then the 32-year-old To, the flagbearer for Cambodia began grimacing.  He collapsed to the track a few steps after finishing in 3:03.56.  Rithya To stayed on the ground for several minutes, and then was removed on a stretcher.

Finally, more than five minutes later, the last runner entered the stadium.  Elias Rodriguez of Micronesia was in 81st place, but he accomplished what 19 other men in the marathon could not -- he finished.

Rodriguez crossed the line in 3:09.14, more than 59 minutes behind the winner.  After he crossed the finish line the workers quickly gathered the orange cones on the track and set the stage for the closing ceremony to begin.

These three men were in intense pain, they had no chance of winning a medal or even a place in the record book having finished the race after the 3 hour mark, yet they finished the race anyway.  Why?  Why didn't they just quit?

I think the answer to that lies in a response by a runner from a previous event: It was 7 p.m. on October 20th, 32 years before the event in Sydney, in 1968.  Only a few spectators remained in the Mexico City Olympic Stadium.  The winner of the 26-mile marathon had crossed the finish line more than an hour ago, and now, the last of the marathon runners were across the finish line and leaving the track.

And as the last few spectators began to leave, those sitting by the entrance suddenly heard the sound of sirens.  One last runner appeared at the entrance.  The man, whose leg was bloody and bandaged, was wearing the colors of Tanzania.

The Tanzanian runner, experiencing intense pain, hobbled around the 400-meter track in the stadium, and the few remaining spectators rose and applauded him as though he was the winner.

After crossing the finish-line he slowly walked off the field without turning to the cheering spectators.  In view of his injury, and having no chance of winning any medal, a curious spectator asked him why he did not quit the race.

The Tanzanian runner replied, "My country did not send me 7000 miles to simply start a race, but sent me 7000 miles to finish it."

In his letter to Timothy, Paul says, "I have finished the race."  Note what Paul does NOT say.  Paul does not say, "I have won the race."  That is not what he says.  He says, "I have finished the race."  Paul does not think of this life as a sprint, as a 100-meter dash, where speed and victory are the only things that count; rather, he thinks of this life in Christ as a marathon.  In a marathon it is endurance and perseverance that counts.  One of my favorite verses in Romans 5:3, “Not only that, but we boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us…”

          In a different letter to the Corinthian Church, Paul wrote about this marathon he was living.  It was not a short sprint, done in just a short time period, but rather it was about a long-suffering marathon.  He wrote in 2 Corinthians 11:24-27 that, “five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move.  I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers.  I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.

In spite of all of this, he endured and kept true to his faith; he kept preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, regardless of anything that might distract him or lead him off of the pathway.  At the end of his second letter to Timothy Paul mentions specific people and again more events that tried and tested his commitment to God, but he did not give up. 

What you see and what you focus on will certainly determine how you feel about what you get.  It is the "cup is half empty" versus the "cup is half full" principle.  Focusing on the bad things in life and on all the disappointments that come with it can cause you to lose sight of the finish line, the race itself, and of God's faithfulness to you in it.  But focusing on the blessings of this life, of the good and wonderful things that are abundant to us each and every day, we are reminded of God's faithfulness in the past and have increasing hope for the future.

As Paul writes to Timothy, he took a moment to reflect and look back.  And in doing so, he realized that God had met all of his needs, exactly when he needed them.

Paul recalls a particular incident in his letter to Timothy.  Paul found himself standing alone before Nero's hostile court.  No other believers had appeared to support him.  While some may have been involved in ministry far from Rome, others had simply feared the persecution that made any identification with Christ risky.  At any rate, Paul had experienced abandonment from his fellow Christians and workers in ministry.  But rather than dwell on their faithlessness, Paul realized that if Jesus could say, "Father, forgive them," while dying on the cross, Paul could say, "May their desertion not be held against them."

Looking back at that time of loneliness, Paul realized he had not been forsaken.  God had been faithful.  The Lord had stood beside him as he faced Nero.  In that moment God gave him strength, sustaining him in every way.  Paul had not only stood, but he had also spoken.  And to Nero and the entire court, Paul proclaimed the gospel of Jesus Christ regardless of what sentence that might bring upon him.  And being faithful to God, Paul was miraculously granted a pardon from a death sentence; which was, at the time, the penalty for publicly proclaiming and believing in Christ.

Having been faithful in the past, Paul could then look to the faithfulness of God in the future, as well.  Paul knew that what he had endured during this earthly race would be acknowledged and rewarded.

Having fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith, Paul could look forward to God’s faithfulness and receive his reward.

Each of us are on different paths in this race.  Each of us have encountered and endured a variety of incidents that have tried our faith, that have made us look at the cup as half-full or half-empty.  But, what we learn from those trials and sufferings is that we can not give up.  We must be like those marathon runners; we must be like Paul.

We were not sent here to start a race, but we were sent here by God to complete one.  So my friends, continue on your run…focus on the blessings of God, the miraculous that happen every day, fight the good fight, finish the race, and keep the faith.

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.

Today's Sermon - Equipping the Saints - 10/20/19

Spoiler Alert:

There are several references to Downton Abbey's new movie.  If you haven't seen it and don't want to hear how it ends, you might want to see the movie first before reading today's sermon.

Equipping the Saints

(basd on Jeremiah 31:24-37, 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5)

Have you ever been consumed by a dream of something you’d love to have or accomplish or realize in your life, motivated by an impulse so strong that it might seem crazy to those around you, perhaps a little bit crazy even to yourself?  For some people, that dream may be of offering a better life for our children than we had ourselves, so we work two jobs, sometimes at night or on weekends, pouring our hearts into that future for our children to give them that dream.  For others, that empowering vision may be of taking a trip to distant and exotic places, to see the immense diversity of God’s creation, so we scrimp and save in order to travel.  For some it could even be owning their own home.  For one woman I met years ago, through a mission project our teens got involved with, that dream seemed just that – a dream.  But obtaining a home after years of apartment dwelling with four children, owning her own home was the experience she thought she would never have.  Thanks to hard work and a new vision of her future, an organization called “Habitat for Humanity” helped her reach her dream and through them, we had a small hand in making that happen for her.

          What existed once only as thought, she couldn’t begin to express all that it meant to her.  Which is true for all of our dreams, once realized.  We can’t even begin to put into words the great satisfaction, the empowering sense of accomplishment, pride and joy that having a dream realized gives us.  But it could have only remained a dream if she hadn’t made it her destiny.

          The distinction between dream and destiny is not a matter of truth or fiction, but rather one of perception.  It is one thing to talk about the future, and another actually to invest in that future; just as it is one thing to have a covenant with God inscribed on stone, and another to have that covenant written on the heart.  When it is inscribed on a stone, the covenant is outside our lives.  It is external.  It might be something to achieve, but it is not necessarily something to realize within ourselves.  When that covenant is written on our hearts however, it no longer is something external, but now it is internal.  It is part and parcel to who we are.  It is the future dream hoped for and actualized – then and only then does it become destiny. 

          Jeremiah was a prophet active in Jerusalem in the years before the city’s fall in 587-586 BC.  He was a prophet especially “tuned in” to God’s perception of how far God’s people were from the people God wanted them to be.

          Over a period of years, Jeremiah tried to persuade a succession of kings that God wanted obedience and not political solutions to Judah’s problems.  Beginning with King Jehoiakim, son of Josiah, Jeremiah tried to convince these kings that what was happening around them in the political world was less important than what was happening at home and that God wanted them to obey God’s laws and God’s requirements for living.  God wanted them to look inward and not outward.  Looking outward was a trap.  God wanted Israel to see the things they had done to themselves to bring them to their own destruction.  But the kings would not listen and they tried to find political solutions to Israel’s problems and this only created more problems.  Jeremiah’s warnings fell on deaf ears.  In 587-586 BC. Babylon took advantage of Jerusalem’s inner weakness and made a final conquest of Judah.  The city of Jerusalem was sacked, the temple was razed, and most of the people of Judah were carried off into exile.

          Jeremiah’s special prophetic anguish came from knowing that God’s covenant with God’s people was not wrong.  What was wrong, was the way God’s people had tried (or more accurately, not tried) to keep that covenant.  Jeremiah had a vision of a time when God’s covenant would not be subject to human error: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah…I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.” 

God will go directly to the hearts of God’s people, who then will know God as their God.

The word of the Lord came to Jeremiah to buy a piece of land.  So, Jeremiah bought a field in his home town, an investment in a time yet to be realized.  He took a dream and made it his destiny.  Jeremiah knew what the future would hold and invested in that future as proof that God would call the people back from their exile and renew the covenant that God had with them.

The distinction between dream and destiny is not a matter of truth or fiction, but rather one of perception.  It is one thing to talk about the future, and another to actually invest in a future; just as it is one thing to have a covenant inscribed on stone, and another to have that covenant written on the heart.

          Several years ago there was a series on PBS called Downton Abbey, which just recently added a full-length feature film about the same characters and storyline.  How many of you watched the series on TV and have seen the movie?

          For those of you who have, this will be a bit of a recap; for those of you who haven’t, this will be a brief summary.  But, if you have only seen the series, but not the movie yet, the rest of today’s message does have a bit of a spoiler in it.  So, just a warning.

          Downton Abbey is a fictional story set in Yorkshire County centering around the lives of the Crawley family and their hired domestics during the declining aristocracy in England from 1912 through 1926.  As the new century brings with it turmoil in the world, new industrial innovations, and a growing middle class, the great houses of England are in decline.  Economics bring their privileged status into question and many of these once great houses cannot survive.  Lord Grantham of Downton Abbey finds himself in much the same situation.  His eldest daughter Lady Mary, as well as the rest of his daughters, buck conventional traditions and find ways of making their way in this new world that is changing rapidly around them.  The series concentrates the storyline about their way of life and all the drama of living in such a world. 

          The movie furthers the storyline, but it also presents several scenes where I believe there are some messages (100 years later), particularly for the church about the changing world we find ourselves in, as well.  Truthfully, it isn’t much different than the message that Jeremiah has for us, nor the message that Paul gave to Timothy in his letter to the young leader.

          I’m going to ignore the one great divide between the rich and the poor, which unfortunately is definitely an enormous part of Downton Abbey’s storyline, but in making some comparisons between Downton, our scripture texts and the message it has for us, I’d prefer to concentrate on other aspects of the story.

Historically, Downton Abbey was the center of life for the community.  The family of Downton held festivals and parades, held fundraisers and did charitable work for the community.  Every person in the community looked to Downton Abbey and the family living at Downton Abbey as their benefactor through work that they provided them or through the lifting of their spirits by holding community-wide festivals, providing money for the hospital, leading various social groups.  As the grand houses of England slowly disappear, leaving their own communities without such centers, the question at Downton Abbey is, how will they survive?

In the series, Lady Mary finds various ways of diversifying their resources and coming up with new methods of earning money.  But the questions remain; will that be enough? will they survive?

In the movie, the Dowager Countess of Grantham, Lord Grantham’s mother, tells Lady Mary, her granddaughter, in a heartfelt scene towards the end of the move, that she is the future of Downton Abbey.  That Lady Mary and her generations will find a way to make Downton Abbey the center of the community it once was, that Lady Mary has the spirit and the ability to make Downton Abbey viable, and that the memory of the Dowager Countess will go on through the leadership of her granddaughter.

The church, here in the US, is seeing the very same situation occur.  We were once the center of our community, but we aren’t any more.  We struggle financially to make it work, when we didn’t used to have that same struggle.  We’ve had to downsize the need for staff, as the “family” has dwindled.

But the Dowager had a message for her granddaughter much the same as Jeremiah’s message to the exiles in Babylon and Paul’s message in Timothy.   Do not make the dream an external part of yourself, it must be internal.  For Downton Abbey, that meant that the granddaughter had to look inward to find the skills and the leadership her grandmother saw in her and to live into that destiny, to embrace it, and bring Downton Abbey back to its grandeur once again; probably in a completely different way, because the old ways no longer work.

Dowager Grantham tells her granddaughter Lady Mary that Downton Abbey is her destiny.  Jeremiah tells the exiles to invest in their future, to write that future on their hearts.  Paul tells Timothy to equip the saints.

So, today, I tell you; this church and its community are our responsibility.  We must be at the center of it.  And we will hand it down to the next generation, but only if we have faith in a future and invest in that future.

Amen.

Today's Sermon - Lessons from our Ancestors - 10/6/19

Lessons from our Ancestors

(based on 2 Timothy 1:1-14)

          Before I even begin with today’s message that comes to us from Timothy, I’d be a bit remiss if I didn’t at least address the passage from Psalm 137.  Sometimes, there are scriptures that you just wish weren’t there.  Or you wish that the writer had stopped while he was ahead.  This psalm is one of those. 

I love how it begins.  It begins as a psalm of lament, a psalm of sadness and yearning, a psalm of remembrance and struggle.  The people of Israel were exiled from their land and sent to a new home in Babylon.  There in Babylon, their captors prodded and joked with their new toys requiring them to dance their jigs, sing their songs, play their instruments.  But they lament their situation and can’t imagine singing of joy and love and peace and prosperity in a foreign land at their tormentor’s request.  In tears, they remember Zion.

But, since the writer of the Psalms is a human and has human emotions that span the full breadth of emotion, the psalm turns from mourning into a song of hellfire and brimstone, requesting recompense and judgment upon Jerusalem’s captors.  The writer hopes for the worst things to happen to their devastators and prays with joy and gladness if one day, Babylon is repaid their due and have their own children captured and bashed against the rocks.

Yes, I know that the writer of this Psalm is sad and angry and yes, I know that the worst in us comes out when we are full of emotion, but I just wish it wasn’t written down in scripture.  Why?  Because, then it can sometimes be used as justification for all kinds of horrible things that we do to one another.

Having said all that, there is a lesson in this about what we hand down to our children.  Will we hand down to them the anger of our past or the hope of a better future through the inspiration of what we learned?  It’s important to notice that the church in Ephesus, where Timothy is now the leader and preacher, already has a long history of faithful servants.  Paul reminds Timothy that his faith was handed down to him from his grandmother, Lois and his mother, Eunice – at least three generations already in this new Christian Church movement in Ephesus.  Paul instructs Timothy that he has been entrusted with the Good News and to guard the good teachings he has learned.

What lessons have you been entrusted with from your mother, your father, your grandmother, or grandfather?  What lessons, people older and wiser than you, have you learned to be truthful and accurate?  What will you hand down to your children and grandchildren to entrust to future generations?

These walls resound with the lessons of our ancestors.  These classrooms and fellowship halls echo the Good News they tried to teach us.  Have you brought them forward into your own life?  Have you written them upon your heart?  Are you willing to share and to teach those of us who come after you?

Just over 10 years ago, a CMU professor by the name of Randy Pausch learned that he was dying of pancreatic cancer and gave his last lecture.  The script of that lecture became a New York Times Best Seller called, The Last Lecture, and has sold over 5 million copies in the US alone.  It has also been translated into 48 other languages.

In that lecture he offers some advice he learned along the way to hand down to his children.  I think they would have been quite similar to some of the things Scripture, in its entirety, hands down to us, as well.

Here are some of them.

Have fun.  Regardless of the circumstances you find yourself in; they may be dire, they may not be what you’d hoped for, they may be “for the moment” a difficult time.  Regardless – have fun!  It is what brings joy back to life, it is what brings happiness and smiles to a heart that might be heavy.  Dance the jig, sing the songs for a time of remembrance.

Help others.  We don’t go through this life alone.  We live in community, connected to one another.  Help those who are less fortunate. Help those who need someone kind to speak words of comfort.  Help those who have inner potential that has not yet been noticed.  Help those who have been mistreated, bullied, disliked or hated by others.

Never lose the childlike wonder.  Scripture often tells us to be like children.  Look at the world around you with new eyes, as if they’d never seen such perfectly shaped clouds before, raindrops that fall from the sky, lightning that flashes, thunder that roars, leaves that change color, flowers that bloom.  See God again and again anew for the first time in all the things around you.

Show gratitude.  Always say thank you and please.  Always find the split second it takes to smile and nod appreciation, if nothing more, for a door held open.  The gratitude you give comes back full measure, multiplied, overflowing.  Like the miracle of the fish and loaves.  At the end of the day, you’d be amazed how your small offers of gratitude led to others’ gratitude which can spread like a tsunami of joy.

Be good at something.  Find your purpose in life and go after it.  Find what brings you joy, what fulfills your life, what ignites your spirit and soul.  Chase after that and be good at it.  God created you for a purpose, seek it out, look for it diligently, find it.  And when you do, let nothing in this life redirect you, distract you, or lead you somewhere else.  And be good at it. 

Never give up.  There are many stories in our scriptures about the relentless actions of people who did not give up.  The man at the pool who waited for years to be the first one in to receive a healing.  The persistent neighbor who kept knocking on the door to ask for bread.  The friends who lowered a man down through a roof in order to bring him to Christ.  Zacchaeus who climbed a tree in order to listen to and see Jesus.  God always finds a way when there seems to be no way.

Find the best in everyone.  Have faith in others.  Randy Pausch says to be patient with others.  That inside everyone is wonderful, life-affirming, beautiful person.  Sometimes they’ve not learned how to show it, or even know of its existence in themselves.  But be patient.  Eventually, it comes out.  Afterall, isn’t God patient with us?  Doesn’t God hope for and want the best in us to shine forth, too?  So, find what others may have missed because you might just be the ambassador of hope to the person who needs it.

Apologize when you screw up.  Forgiveness is a two-way street.  Don’t hesitate to say, “I’m sorry.”  Then don’t just say the words, but do whatever you need to do to make it right.

Focus on others rather than on yourself.  We have enough “me” people in the world.  It’s time that we started thinking in terms of “us” and “you”.  Refer to the earlier lesson about not getting through this life alone. And we were created to be in community, not a stand-alone island.

The last two – stop making excuses.  They are only self-delusions.  They are also what is keeping you from finding your purpose in life – being who God created you to be.

And the last one – do the right thing.  We find lots of opportunities in this life to make a choice.  To do good or to do harm.  To bless or to curse.  To love or to hate.  To be joyful or to be angry.  In all that you do, make the better choice and do the right thing.

Friends, this building, these walls have born witness to the silent and spoken aspirations of our ancestors.  They have stood silent absorbing the thoughts and prayers we’ve sent to God in our worship.  As we come to the Lord’s table today, we are reminded of the great cloud of witnesses that walked these aisles, sat in these very pews, ate this bread, drank this cup.  They, like Timothy, were entrusted with the Good News in Jesus Christ and tried to do their best.  May we try to do ours, as well.