Acts 6:5-16
February 6, 2011
They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them; so, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them. We set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city for some days. On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.” And she prevailed upon us.
Do you recognize the name Kaile Warren? You may have seen him if, over the years, you’ve watch the CBS early show on Saturday mornings. Warren used to do features on things such as how to winterize your house and how to make basic repairs. He is the founder and owner of a franchised company, Rent-a-Husband, and he is known nationally. He is a successful man, but he wasn’t always like this. There was a point in his life when he was as low as anyone could imagine. He was homeless and hopeless, living in a warehouse and sleeping with rats.
At one point, in the early 1990s, Warren had his own construction business, a nice house, a wife, and an enviable life. Then tragedy struck. He had an accident that left him injured, and the results were that he slowly began to lose his business. Eventually he had to declare bankruptcy. He lost his house. Then his wife left him. He was penniless, alone, and directionless. He drifted onto the streets. He became a homeless man living on a wharf in Portland, Maine. His life was in shambles. No matter how hard he tried to resurrect his life, some sort of self-destructiveness kept pulling him down. He was in despair and ready to die.
He hit the lowest point of his life in 1996. He was working in a warehouse during the day, getting paid peanuts, and then sneaking back into it at night to sleep. He couldn’t afford an apartment. He was sleeping on boxes and washing up in a bathroom. It was 3 a.m., and he woke up as a rat scurried across his foot. It brought his descent into his own personal Hell into clear focus. After getting rid of the rat, he began to cry. For the first time in his life he prayed. He wasn’t sure that he believed in God, but he didn’t know who or what else to turn to. In his desperate prayer, he asked God to help him somehow, anyhow. As he prayed, ten words popped up in his mind: Rent-a-Husband. For Those Jobs That Never Get Done. In that instant he knew his future. He would develop a handyman business based on integrity. He knew that many divorced and widowed women felt helpless to do the home repairs that their husbands used to do. He also knew that they were often targets of con-men and scam artists. So he would become a source of integrity for divorced or widowed women who didn’t know how to fix things for themselves.
Still homeless, he managed to rent a beat-up van for $50 a week. He put the name Rent-a-Husband on the side of the van with electrical tape. He printed up fliers for his business and put them on the car windows of women attending a divorced womens’ group. Soon he received requests for his services. Slowly he built up his business. His operation was such a shoestring operation that he often had to borrow tools and ladders from the women he worked for. Still, he was determined that his reputation for politeness, responsibility, and reliability would win them over.
Today, Warren is the president of a business that has eight franchises and continues to grow. The business has gone up and down with the economy, and he has made some bad business decisions along the way, but that has not detracted from his calling. His business is built on his own faith in God, whom he experienced on that wharf years before, and on a pledge to offer the best service possible—to be a business that cares about people. All the men who work for him have to undergo a thorough background check, take classes on dealing politely and responsibly with others, and have their work continually monitored for quality. His is a story of following God’s calling to live a life of serving.
I love Kaile Warren’s story because it teaches so much about what it takes to hear God’s calling in our lives. The truth is that many of us struggle with hearing and understanding God’s call in our lives. All of us wish we were like Paul in our passage for this morning—able to hear God’s voice telling us what to do. But most of us don’t really feel as though we ever hear God’s voice, let alone hearing it constantly like Paul seemed to do. The downside of reading Paul’s story is that when we don’t have the kinds of experiences that people in the Bible, like Paul, have, then we tend to think of the Bible as being unrealistic.
I want to challenge that idea, though, because I think most of us do hear God’s voice constantly, and even somewhat clearly. The problem is that we just don’t recognize it as God’s voice. We’re too busy in our lives, too focused on the demands of our lives, too sure we know the way the world works to really hear God.
If you want to understand how God’s calling works, it’s helpful to look at Paul’s and Kaile’s experiences for guidance. How was it that Paul was able to hear God’s voice in a dream? The thing we forget when we listen to the story is that Paul was able to hear God’s voice because he was totally committed to hearing God’s voice. Paul lived a life of dedication to serving God, and that dedication became the ground for hearing God. You see, many of us want to hear God’s voice, but we want God to speak to us about things that matter to us, and not necessarily to God. We want God to call us to what we already want, not to what God wants. Paul was living a life focused on serving God, and God’s calling to him was serving focused.
Now before you get too tempted to say that Paul didn’t live a realistic life because he was serving as a missionary, unlike us, I’m going to challenge that notion. Did you know that Paul actually was a businessman? Did you know that he was an entrepreneur? For fourteen years before he became a missionary, he was a tentmaker, making tents that were essential to commerce in those days. There were few inns or hotels at that time, so when business people, or the army, travelled, they would use elaborate tents. Whenever Paul went to a different place to spread the gospel, he also set up his tentmaking business. He was living in the working world, but at the same time was dedicated to serving God in all of his life. That’s important to understanding God’s call.
Also, Paul didn’t hear God’s voice constantly. Only at crucial times. Often God’s doesn’t need to speak to us when we are already doing what God wants. Then God’s calling is a whisper, telling us to keep doing what we are doing.
Kaile Warren was able to hear God’s calling because, even though his life wasn’t dedicated to serving God, he was desperate in his life for something different, for something more. He was praying for help, for an intervention, and he was doing so with as much honesty and openness as possible. His desperation opened him to God, but he also wasn’t just self-focused. He wanted to serve others. What he heard from God was a confirmation of that service-focus. Rent-A-Husband wasn’t just a business. It was compassionate service to those who are often preyed upon.
Here’s what we learn from Paul and Kaile. First, God often speaks to us in the most simple terms, saying stuff like, “Come over to Macedonia and help us,” or “Rent-A-Husband. For Those Jobs That Never Get Done.” But in that simplicity is a world of understanding. When God speaks in simple words, we often intuitively understand all that it means. Also, when God speaks, it is always giving and service focused. God doesn’t speak to us about how we can get a better job, better house, better situation. God speaks to us about how we can care more about other people, make life better for others, and serve God in all of life.
God is ready to speak to each and every one of us, but the question is whether we are ready to hear what God has to say. If you don’t think you’re hearing God’s call, here are several things to think about.
First, what’s the focus of your listening? God’s calling is always giving and other oriented. If you’re not hearing God’s voice, it may be that you are focusing too much on God serving you, not on you serving God.
Let me give you an example of what I mean. A few months ago I had a conversation with a member of our church about his business. He works in an engineering firm. He told me that back when he started working there, the place seemed to effortlessly make money. The reason, he said, was that the founders were men of faith. Their focus was on serving others. They believed that engineers should be servants, making life better for others, and that if they did this the money would take care of itself. And it did. The firm grew and grew. But in recent years other members of the firm have been made partners, and these men care mostly about the bottom line, profits, and making money. They are always talking about how to get more business, and the result has been that the company has been struggling. They’ve had to cut staff. What’s the difference? As long as the company was service focused, they made profits, but once they became more profit focused they lost business because of their lack of service. Often the staff they cut are those who provide customer service. Whether they knew it or not, the original owners were able to hear God’s calling to serve. But now the company struggles because they aren’t open to it anymore. If we can’t hear God, we need to ask what the focus of our listening is.
Second, if we can’t hear God’s calling, we need to ask what the state of our life is? The more our lives are lived away from God, the harder it is to hear God and to receive a calling that leads to God’s blessings. How we live has a lot to do with what we hear. Remember, Paul was immersed in serving God. The way he lived his life had a lot to do with how well he heard God.
Finally, we need to ask, what are we doing to pay attention to God? Are we engaging in practices and ways of praying that open us to God’s calling? I’m not going to go into detail on this because this is going to be the point of Connie Frierson’s sermon next week.
The point of all this is that God does speak, and God speaks to us constantly, but to hear we have to live a life that’s open to it. Is our focus on serving God or ourselves? Does our life open us to God’s call or close us? Are we praying and seeking God’s calling in a way that helps us hear?
Amen.
Understanding Spiritual Experiences: Conversion
Acts 9:1-19
January 30, 2011
Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.
Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” The Lord said to him, “Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.” But Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength. For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus,…
What do you make of the story of Paul’s conversion? Do you think it was a one-time conversion just for Paul, or do you think that all Christians need to have a somewhat similar conversion experience? These are hard questions to answer, and how you answer it may depend on what your experiences have been.
I’ve been around a lot of Christians who have had conversion experiences, and a lot of them say that to really be a Christian we have to have one of these big experiences. They base their beliefs on John 3:3, which says, ”Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from again.” There’s a problem when it comes to using this passage, though. The problem is that the passage doesn’t actually describe what a “born-again” experience should be like, nor does it say that it should be like Paul’s. Despite the fact that many people have had certain experiences that they describe as “born-again,” other than Paul’s conversion, there are few other examples in the Bible of what a born-again experience might be like. Also, even the term “born-again” is a bit questionable since the Greek word for “again,” ανοθεν, also means “from above.” Thus, Jesus is telling us that we either need to be born again from above, or born from above again. Both terms are a bit nebulous, despite many people’s insistence that it means that we must have an experience like Paul,… or like them.
Still, I’ve met many people over the years who have had Paul-like experiences, and many of these experiences are quite inspiring. For example, I remember having done a wedding for a couple in which the groom came from a Pentecostal family. Pentecostals believe that to be saved we must be “born-again” (despite the fact that in the passage cited before, it doesn’t say we have to be born again to be saved, only born again/from above to see the kingdom of God). I was co-officiating with a Pentecostal pastor. At the reception, I was put at the table with that pastor, his wife, and several other people, all of whom were Pentecostals.
During dinner, the conversation turned to when each of us was “saved.” Everyone started sharing stories of when they had their born-again experiences. One-by-one each person told her or his story. The whole time I kept wondering what I would say when it was my turn. You see, I haven’t had a born-again experience like all of them. I’ve had many small experiences, but no one, big, life-changing experience. There’s a reason. Even though I walked away from the church at 15 and returned when I was in my early twenties, I never strayed that far. I always cared about my relationship with God, and I was always trying to live a life of service. I never had that experience of living a terrible life and then returning to Christ. So I didn’t have that kind of story.
It got to the point at which I was supposed to share my story, and fortunately just as everyone looked at me the best man stood up to give his toast. By the time all the toasts were given, everyone had forgotten about me telling my story. God is good
Still, I remember almost all of the stories from that dinner. I especially remember one story from a man named Sal. Sal talked about how he was surprised by God in a very unlikely place. Years ago, he had had dreams of becoming a successful musician, but over time it became apparent that he just didn’t have the talent or the skill. He went from band to band, hoping to make it big, but instead the bands just got worse and worse.
He was working during the day selling computers, or something like that, while playing guitar at night in a cheesy, bad top-40s band. It was New Year’s Eve at the old Holiday House in Monroeville and midnight struck while he was playing in the band. Streamers flew, champaign corks popped, men and women kissed, and Sal stood with the band, playing Auld Lang Syne. He felt cynical, bitter, and angry. He looked at these people, drunk and acting like fools, and he thought to himself, “These idiots! They are going through the paces of life. They are nothing but sad, lonely people with nothing going for them but getting drunk on New Year’s Eve and kissing everyone in sight.” As he thought these bitter thoughts, God broke through. He suddenly realized he was describing himself, and that there was a better way with God. In that moment he felt God’s love, and it led him to love the people he was looking at. He changed in that moment and said a prayer to God, promising to follow God wherever God led. It led him to join a church, and to eventually play in a church worship and praise band.
Sal was converted on the spot. It wasn’t quite Paul’s experience, but it was powerful. It’s not only Pentecostals who have these kinds of experiences. Sometimes even Presbyterians have them. Another woman I know, Lori, a Presbyterian pastor I met while in graduate school, had an experience of God that led to her conversion and changed her life. She had grown up without religion in Utah. One day, when she was in her mid-20s, she was walking by a golf course. She heard the thwack of ball being hit off the tee, and before she could react the golf ball smacked her in the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. As she lied on the ground, she felt God’s presence, and it was the most loving presence she had ever felt. She knew that God loved her beyond any love a human person could give. She was loved completely without condition. Afterwards, she became so thoroughly consumed with this experience that she decided to go to seminary and become a pastor so that she could live her life in the service of that one who loved her so deeply.
It’s not only Pentecostals and Presbyterian pastors who have these kinds of experiences. We have a number of members here who have had experiences. I’ve been privileged to hear about these experiences, and many of them are profound. But to me, there’s still an essential question: do we have to have some sort of conversion experience to truly become a Christian? The answer is yes,… and no. It all depends on what you mean?
I don’t think you have to have a radical experience like Paul’s, Sal’s, or Lori’s in order to become a Christian, but to be a Christian means to undergo conversion. Actually, what most people don’t realize is that the kinds of experiences Paul, Sal, and Lori had are both gifts and indications. They are gifts that give people certainty about God’s love and presence, but also indications that they had been particularly closed off to God. You’ll notice a trend in most people who have had dramatic conversion experiences. Most had been living lives that were either God-absent. What I mean is that they were ignoring God, they were often focusing only on themselves and their own concerns, or they were actively trying to hurt people who do have faith. Their conversion comes because they are so far away from God that the movement back to God is sudden and traumatic, much like a rubber band snapping back hard from too much tension.
The fact is that many Christians never have that big a conversion experience because they never really stretched that far from God in the first place. I know that I’ve never had that big, one-time conversion experience. And I doubt I ever will. The reason is that even though I walked away from the church for a time, I never walked away from God. And even while I was away from the church, I was still trying to live a life of serving God. That’s how I became a counselor in the first place. I was trying to serve God. So my conversions have all been relatively small but powerfu. And they have been constant throughout the years.
I think that the emphasis by some Christians on the need for that big, one-time conversion actually hides a feature of the Christian life that Paul’s life reveals. Paul’s conversion may have been dramatic, but it was only the first conversion of many. Paul didn’t have his one conversion and then suddenly become an apostle. His conversion was followed by time spent in the Arabian desert, three years of training in Damascus to learn the Christian life, and then fourteen years living in the city of Tarsus, working as a tent maker. His sudden conversion was followed by seventeen years of ongoing small conversions as he moved deeper and deeper into the Christian life. What Paul’s life reveals is that we aren’t just called to a one-time conversion. We are called to live lives that are constantly being converted.
The fact is that all of us are called to ongoing conversion. One of the hallmark sayings of the Reformed tradition, of which the Presbyterian Church is a part, is “reformed, always being reformed.” This means that we are transformed, and always being transformed. To be a Christian means to live a life that never stays the same. We are called to constant conversion.
Adrian van Kaam said it another way. He said that we are called to continual JND experiences. Do you know what JND means? It means “just noticeable differences.” When we really open up to God, we become changed all the time, but in ways that are just noticeable. And over the years, as we look back, we can see how those changes accumulate, so that one, two, three,… forty years later we recognize that we are not the same as we were.
This kind of conversion also moves us out of our comfort zones and our boxes. For instance, what I’ve noticed among people who grow spiritually over time is that liberals become more conservative,… and conservatives become more liberal. The reason? God stretches us to grow where we are stunted, and to be a Christian means to grow beyond restrictive labels. The more we identify ourselves with particular movements, even Christian movements, the more we inhibit conversion and transformation—the more we inhibit God in our lives.
You may not know this, but Calvin Church is set up as a place of conversion. We aren’t like many of the evangelical and Pentecostal churches that are particularly good at sparking that big, one-time conversion. We aren’t particularly good at getting that non-Christian to experience God for the first time. But what we are good at is taking that already converted Christian and helping her or him to change everyday.
You can see this in the way I preach. In all honesty, the way I preach is not intended to inspire you. But it is meant to change you. When I preach each Sunday, what I’m hoping for is that you will walk away with the seeds for a JND experience during the week. My hope is that I’ve opened up a possibility with God that you are willing to explore, and because you are, you can be subtly changed by God. I’m not looking for that one-time conversion. I’m looking for that constant conversion.
The key to this ongoing conversion is whether you’re prepared for it. The more you think you know, the more closed off you are. In fact, the hardest people to reach are often those Christians who think they know enough, and therefore don’t allow themselves to be stretched daily. These are the ones you’ve experienced, who have all the answers and who have no problems judging the failings of others. They’ve had the one-time conversion, and they think it makes them an expert on who is or isn’t a Christian.
Do you want to know the real secret to living a life of ongoing conversion? It is a life lived with awe, reverence, and humility. The question is where you are in all of this, and what are you doing to allow yourself to be converted everyday.
Amen
Seeing Beyond the Conventional
John 1:29-42
January 16, 2011
The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o”clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
You know, something kind of sad happens to many of us when we get to our thirties. What happens is that as we move into our thirties we start putting our thinking into boxes. We all start to harden in our thinking, and as the years pass we have a harder and harder time thinking outside of our self-created boxes.
Before our thirties, much of our thinking is pretty open. Children have the ability to look at the world with a sense of awe and openness, looking in wonder at everything going on around them. For them, the world is a place of wonders, filled with bugs, snow, seasons, games, beaches, friends, learning, and so much more. As we move into our teens, we get to try out new ideas and consider new possibilities as we become more abstract in our thinking. If we get to go college, we get inundated with new ideas and new concepts (not all of them healthy), and our head is filled with possibility. As we move into the workplace, we become very open to new ways of doing things and new ideas as we learn our craft.
Then we move into our thirties and things start to harden. We start to create boxes that contain the extent of our thinking. We want to create order in our own little universes, so we create boxes that we place the world, God, and ourselves into so that we can have neat and tidy explanations for everything. At first, our boxes are made out of paper. They are thin and easily torn apart and changed as experiences warrant. By the time we get into our forties, though, we replace the paper walls with cardboard. We can rip our thoughts down and replace them, but it becomes a bit harder. By the time we get into our fifties we reconstruct our boxes out of wood. By our sixties we build them out of steel, which requires a chainsaw to tear them down. By the time we get into our seventies and beyond, our thought boxes are built out of concrete, and it requires dynamite to change our thinking.
All of us are guilty of creating little boxes for our thinking. And what’s odd about all of our boxes is that we are not very aware of our own, but we are distinctly aware of other people’s. In fact, that’s part of what irritates us about other people. We can’t understand why their thinking is stuck in such rigid boxes. Why can’t they understand the world like we do? To paraphrase Jesus, we recognize the paper boxes that contain other people’s thinking, while ignoring the steel vaults that constrain our thinking?
We all have boxes to some extent, but we rarely realize it. Let me give you an example of what I mean. Back in January of 2007, a solitary man stood in the Washington, D.C. Metro Station, playing a violin. He played for 45 minutes as almost 2000 people filed by to get their subway trains to other parts of the city. He played six Bach pieces, of which one is considered to be among the most difficult of all in classical music.
During that time, ten people out of the two-thousand stopped to listen. After three minutes, a middle-aged man stopped and listened for a few seconds. Four minutes later a woman paused, threw money into his empty violin case, and continued walking. After ten minutes, a three-year-old boy stopped to listen. His mother tugged him along. Each time the child stopped, the mother pulled him forward.
Over the next thirty minutes, six more people stopped to listen for a while, none pausing for more than thirty seconds. When he finished all six pieces, he put his violin away and left the station. Twenty people had put money in his case, and he had collected $32. The irony of it all was that two nights before, people had shelled out $100 each to hear him play in Boston.
You see, this man, Joshua Bell, is considered to be one of the greatest violinists in the world. The violin he played in the station is worth about $3.5 million. Typically, when he plays, people give him thunderous standing ovations, but not in the D.C. Metro. No matter how well he played, he couldn’t fit into their boxes. They were in work mode. They were in subway mode. When we are in those and other modes of thinking, it is hard for anything to penetrate our boxes.
It’s difficult for us to look and think beyond our boxes, yet to be a Christian means to think outside our boxes—despite our attempts to create Christian boxes. And we Christians can often be guilty of creating the hardest boxes of all. Despite that, Christians aren’t called to create hard and fast theologies that explain everything. We are called to be open to God in all areas of life, and that requires flexible boxes that are easily changed as we experience God in new and different ways. The problem is that the harder our boxes get, the more we demand that God fit into our beliefs, rather allowing our beliefs to fit into God’s realities.
John the Baptist, in our passage this morning, is a great example of being able to move outside the box. You wouldn’t recognize this just by reading it, but what the story it presents of John the Baptist is quite radical: “The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, ‘Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.”’”
Seeing Jesus as the messiah would not have been easy for John. The reason has to do with John’s background. You see, John was an Essene, or at least he came out of the Essene tradition. You know what the Essenes produced, even if you don’t necessarily know the Essenes. The Essenes were the ones who produced the Dead Sea Scrolls, scrolls of ancient scripture found in caves by the Dead Sea that the Essenes inhabited 2000 years ago. They were a Jewish sect that believed that all of society was evil and corrupt, and that the only way to achieve salvation was to separate themselves from it and live apart. They believed that they were children of light, and that everyone who lived in the cities and villages were children of darkness. They believed in a rigid life of strict observance of law, restricted diet, and regimented prayer life.
John came out of this tradition to baptize people to make them aware that God was coming soon. He baptized in the Jordan River to call people to live clean lives. In many ways the Jordan was the membrane between the eastern desert wilderness of the Essenes and the western cities of Israel. He would go no further because to walk west of the Jordan was to become corrupted by civilization.
Yet John recognized Jesus as the messiah, despite the fact that Jesus ate, drank, and lived as one of the civilized people the Essenes saw as so corrupt. Jesus did not observe a strict diet, he played fast and loose with much of the Law, and he had a different message from John. Jesus did not fit into John’s box, but John could see beyond it. He was able to recognize God’s presence and actions despite his beliefs. Not an easy thing to do.
You see, what John overcame is a common problem we all have. Our problem is our “ologies” and “isms.” We all have our own personal theologies about how the world works. We all have our particular “isms”—Capitalism, conservatism, liberalism, idealism—about how things should work. And these become the walls of our boxes. They blind us. They keep us from truly seeing what God is doing because we can only see what God is doing if it fits our ology and ism
How do you tell if you’ve put yourself in a box? The answer is somewhat easy. When your life is in trouble, how easily do you find God? The harder it is to find God, the stronger your boxes are. If you are going through grief, unemployment, divorce, illness, or something else, are you available to God? Do you find God working with you, or do you wonder where God has gone? I think that many people have a hard time sensing what God is doing because their boxes cause them to expect or even demand that God act one way, while God is really acting another. Their boxes cause them to miss completely what God is doing.
For example, over the years I’ve talked with a lot of people about where God is during their unemployment. Typically people ask, “When is God going to get me a job? I’ve been praying, doing all the right things, but I’m hearing nothing.” I have to be careful how I say this, but eventually I say something like, “What if getting you the next job isn’t what God is focusing on? What if God is saying to you, ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you a job. But first, I want you to focus on your life. I want you to get you to look at what’s important in your life. I want you to do a reappraisal.’” That’s a perspective that’s outside of most people’s boxes. Whether we are going through unemployment, divorce, grief over the death of someone close, an illness, or something else, what God is doing, and how God is present, may be off our radar because of our expectations. How well we find God depends upon how flexible our boxes are.
James Sevigny is a good example of how boxes can make it tough to experience God in hard times. Back in 1983, when Sevigny was 28, he and a friend decided to go rock climbing in the Canadian Rockies. It was a climb,... until they heard a deafening CRACK, and then a thunderous roar overhead. It was an avalanche. They were hurtled 2000 feet down the side of the cliff and the mountain. After what seemed like an eternity of falling, he stopped. He could tell his body was broken. He could feel fractures in his back and busted knees. He also had internal bleeding.
A number of years ago he had what he thought was a premonition that he would die this way. So he lied there in the snow thinking, “Okay, this is it. This is how I was meant to die.” As lied there, he heard a voice and felt a presence. As he later recounted, the voice said, "No, you can't give up. You have to live." He also said, "It was right over my right shoulder. It was like if I would sneak up to you and put my nose a quarter of an inch from your neck. It was that kind of physical sensation."
The voice not only told him to get up, but it told him how to rearrange the blood in the snow into an arrow pointing the direction he was walking. For the next several hours he was directed until he finally stumbled into a camp. There he fell before three campers. As he recounted later, he could not have imagined three more expert people to fall in front of in his condition. One was a nurse, another a mountain guide, and another an elite cross-country skier. They took him to safety.
Years later he still can’t talk about the experience without starting to cry. When asked about the experience, he has a hard time explaining it, especially because it didn’t and doesn’t fit into his box. You see, Sevigny is an atheist. He says the experience didn't make him religious. He sees himself as a scientist and has little use for organized religion. As he has said, "I don't give it great thought. I'm not a spiritual person. I don't say it was God or a guardian angel. I have a Ph.D. in chemistry." What he will say is that mysterious presence was the only reason he got off that mountain alive.
All of us have boxes, and depending on how strong our boxes are, it can inhibit our awareness of God. Sevigny was gifted to discover God’s presence in a time of crisis, but even now he has a hard time with the idea that it was God or something from God because it doesn’t fit into his box. When it comes to experiencing and following God, sometimes the stronger our beliefs are, the harder it is to see what God is doing.
The question I’d like you to reflect on today is this: are you able to develop an open flexibility to what God is doing? Are you able to move beyond the conventional?
Amen.
Does It Really Matter How We're Baptized?
Matthew 3:13-17
January 9, 2011
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
About ten or eleven years ago we had an interesting situation here at Calvin Church involving one of our confirmation class students. The young man went through the confirmation class and gave a great statement of faith. When it came time for the actual confirmation, there was some question about whether he had been baptized or not. I tried calling his mother, but she was out of town and unavailable. So I called his father. I asked him if his son had been baptized, and he said that he thought so but wasn’t sure. He remembered bringing his son forward in the church, having something take place in the front, and he said of it, “I think they called it a ‘christening.’” I told him that christening is another word for baptism. We could go ahead and confirm him, and didn’t need to baptize him. No worries…
…Or so we thought. After we confirmed him with the rest of his class, his mother called me and said, “You know, my son was never baptized. Before joining here we went to a church that believed in adult baptism.” I told him what his father had said, and she replied, “That was a dedication service, not a christening. I can’t believe he didn’t know that.”
So, we were in a bit of a pickle. We had confirmed him without baptizing him. Confirmation is a “confirming” of a person’s baptismal vows, but without a baptism can a person confirm? I talked with the young man a few days later and told him that we needed to schedule a date for his baptism. That’s when we hit a snag. He said to me, “What if I want to be baptized by immersion?” I told him that we didn’t do immersion because there was no immersion tank in our church, like they have in the Baptist churches. He then told me that the pastor of another church in town was willing to baptize him by immersion at a member’s pool. I told him that this was fine, but that this would make him a member of that church. “I don’t want to join that church, but I want to be baptized by immersion.”
I explained that from the Presbyterian point of view, baptism was always done in front of a congregation because they are part of the baptism. They take vows to care for the baptized person since all the members of the church become godparents at baptism. That’s why we don’t have godparents stand up during baptism. The whole congregation are the godparents. To take him to a pool or the Connoquennessing Creek would take the congregation out of it.
Round and round we went, discussing all of this, but no matter how we kept trying to resolve it, he wanted to be baptized by immersion. Finally, I asked him why he wanted to be baptized by immersion. He said that he wanted to have the kind of spiritual experience some of his friends had talked about, and that he had read about—where people come up out of the water feeling renewed and reborn. I told him that this kind of experience is a gift from God, and that the style of baptism doesn’t guarantee that kind of experience. Also, I mentioned that only a small number of Christians have that kind of experience at baptism, but that many have it in other contexts. It’s up to God to grace us with that experience, and it’s dependent on our need, not our desire, for that kind of experience.
We were still at an impasse. So we agreed on a course of action. We would let things stand as they were, since he was already a member of Calvin Church. If he wanted to be baptized by the other church and become a member there, that would be up to him and God. Otherwise, there would probably come a time in the future where he would move somewhere else and join another church, or decide to be baptized in the way we practice it. At that point he could decide how to be baptized.
So what do you think? Does how we’re baptized matter? I suppose the answer depends upon whom you ask. There’s been an ongoing argument between adulters and birthers for centuries, ever since the Reformation. I don’t mean an argument between adulterers—those who commit infidelities—and birthers—those who believe President Obama was actually born in Kenya and should be disbarred from being president. I mean an argument between those who believe in adult baptism and baptism soon after birth.
I’ve been in a number of conversations over the years with people about the “right” way of being baptized. Because I come from a tradition where we baptize infants, it’s normal for me to support infant baptism. Still, my Baptist, evangelical, and Pentecostal friends would tell me that I’m leading people down the wrong path. For them the method of baptism is crucial.
So what are the arguments for the two styles of baptism? The argument for adult baptism is primarily scriptural. Jesus was baptized by immersion as an adult. The disciples were baptized by immersion as adults,… or were they? Other than John, Andrew, and maybe Philip, who were previously disciples of John the Baptist, we don’t know if anyone else was baptized as adults. In fact, there aren’t a large number of scriptural accounts of baptism at all. The other argument for adult baptism is that it offers people a chance to make a mature choice at baptism, not have that choice made for them.
What are the arguments for infant baptism? There isn’t much there scripturally, although there are some inferences. For example, in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, he says, “I did baptize also the household of Stephanas…” This implies that he baptized everyone, including infants. Also, in the second letter of Timothy, Paul says to him, “But as for you, continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it, and how from childhood you have known the sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” The implication of this passage is that Timothy has been a Christian since birth. Of course, both of these are inferences, but not proof, of infant baptism. The other argument for infant baptism is that we do invite people to become confirmed, which means that they “confirm” the baptismal vows that their parents took on their behalf when they were children. Confirmation becomes the second half of baptism, and it invites people to make the same kind of mature choice that takes place with adult baptism.
There’s also one other argument. This argument is that despite the scriptural example of adult baptism, the fact is that there couldn’t be any other example. The first Christians were adult converts. So they would only have received an invitation to follow Christ as adults and then become baptized as adults. Scripture cites adult baptism because that was the only possibility. The fact is that within the first hundred years of Christianity infants were baptized.
Still, the debates rage on. I have a very simple way of cutting through the arguments, though. My way involves a question. Look at the great Christians of history. Did the method of baptism make a difference in how they turned out. Certainly, if we look at Jesus, the disciples, and people around the world throughout history who became mature Christians after being baptized as adults, it says that adult baptism can be the foundation of becoming a mature Christian. But look also at all those who were baptized as infants and still became mature Christians. Look at all the Christians from about 100 to 1600 A.D. Look at people like John Calvin, Martin Luther, George Fox (the founder of the Quakers), John Wesley (the founder of the Methodists), Mother Teresa, most of us. What matters is not the method of baptism, but our openness to God after we’ve been baptized. Let me repeat that: What matters is not the method of baptism, but our openness to God after we’ve been baptized.
It’s apparent to me that the method of baptism doesn’t correlate at all with spiritual growth and spiritual maturity, since people who choose to commit their lives to God are able to grow and become mature regardless of how they were baptized. I agree with something that John Calvin often said: in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, charity. He was saying that in things that really matter to the Christian life, such as belief in God, trusting in Christ as our savior, and being available to the Holy Spirit, we should be united. But in matters of theology to which people disagree, such as the virgin birth, method of baptism, who’s saved and who isn’t, we should be charitable and caring toward one another, knowing that we ourselves may be wrong.
I believe that the people who get caught up in arguing over the “right” method of baptism forget about the power of God’s grace. What do I mean by this? Think about what Paul says about grace. In his letter to the Romans he says that we are justified by grace through faith. In other words, we aren’t saved by our deeds, by our knowledge, or by our ability to be obedient to the law. God gives us grace as a gift, a gift that we haven’t earned. And our role is simply to have faith, and through faith to receive God’s grace in our lives so that it can make a difference for us and for others through us. The point that Paul makes is that it’s God’s love and grace that matters, not our beliefs and deeds. People who claim that the method of baptism matters are now taking away grace as a gift, and saying that grace is only given to us if we are baptized in the right way. So, if we are baptized as adults, we receive grace. If we aren’t, we don’t. When they do this, they are proclaiming Paul’s words to be false.
This argument over the method of baptism is one more example of the constant tendency of humans to try to wrest control of salvation from God’s hands. Throughout the history of Christianity and Judaism, people have tried to find a way to be in control of grace and salvation, rather than trusting in God to be in charge. The Jews tried to take grace out of God’s hands by emphasizing the righteousness of following the law. For them, justification came through perfect obedience to the law, and so God ceded to us the power to obtain grace. For them grace wasn’t a gift, but an earned reward. But as Christ taught, obedience to the law does not lead to salvation. It just leads to better moral behavior, a better moral behavior that can also come through openness to God.
The Roman Catholics, at the time of the Reformation, also became guilty of trying to control grace. They made salvation and grace dependent upon contributions to the church. Even today the Roman Catholic tradition restricts grace by emphasizing what deeds need to be undertaken to receive grace. For instance, to receive grace we have an obligation to weekly worship and participation in the mass; an obligation to confess our sins to a priest; and an obligation to other acts of charity. Again, these are attempts to restrict God’s grace from being a free gift by making it contingent on our acts.
Evangelical Christians have their form of restricting grace. They make God’s grace contingent on declaring Jesus Christ as our Lord and savior. In other words, the name you give God (calling God Christ) is what matters. I don’t disagree that we need to declare Christ as our Lord and savior to fully receive that grace, but God can dispense grace to us regardless of what our declarations are. Pentecostal Christians tend to make evidence of grace contingent on whether we have gifts of speaking in tongues, prophecy, holy laughter, healing, or other gifts. The implication is that if these gifts aren’t present, our faith isn’t good enough and therefore God’s grace isn’t in our lives. This is another restriction, seemingly putting grace under our control, not God’s.
We mainline Christians (those of us in denominations such as Presbyterian, Lutheran, Episcopalian, among others) have our own version of restricting grace. We emphasize living by the Golden Rule and doing good deeds as ways of getting into heaven. Again, the emphasis is on our behavior that merits grace, not on grace that is freely given and that changes our behavior.
And we can say the same kinds of things about those who proclaim adult baptism as the only way. What they are saying is that if we aren’t baptized in the right way, we don’t really receive the fullness of God’s grace. Well, God’s grace is a free gift. It is not contingent upon our acts or beliefs. The beliefs we have and the deeds we do can help grace work more thoroughly in our lives, but the grace is available still as a gift, not as something earned. If the method of baptism matters the most, then God’s grace really isn’t a free gift, and Paul was wrong.
What I think people really miss is the fact that ultimately it is God who is in control of our salvation, and God’s criteria is love, not deeds, law, works, golden rule, manifestation of gifts, or anything else. We believe in a simple idea. Grace is out there as a gift, and we don’t need to do anything to get it. It’s much like Christmas. How many of you were given a gift for Christmas, and before even opening it up, said, “You know, I haven’t done anything to earn it it. How about if I make everyone breakfast, clean up the house, clear the gutters, muck out the garage, and chop wood before opening it? That way I will have earned it.” This would be silly because gifts are given out of love, just as God gives us grace out of love.
The way we Presbyterians look at it all is to say that God’s grace is freely available, and all that we do is a response to grace. We worship to thank God for grace, and to learn to live lives that allow grace to flow more freely in our lives. We do good deeds because we want to share that grace that is already there. We engage in ministry and mission in order to share this grace. The grace is there. What we want to do is to share it.
The sacrament of baptism reveals of the nature of God’s love and grace. For us, baptism is an act that shows the nature of God’s grace by telling us something simple: “Do you see this child, this youth, this adult before you? This person has been loved by God from the moment God thought of him or her. That doesn’t mean that God has loved him or her from the moment she or he was conceived or born. It means that God has loved her or him from the moment God decided that this person should be created. The washing of baptism shows what God has done, which is to wash the person from the very beginning, saying, ‘I love this person and do not see, nor will see, the person’s sin. Sin may be there, but I will always be there to wash this person clean, and I will always look upon her or him with Christ’s eyes of love, forgiveness, and blessings.’” Baptism reveals God’s blessings in a person’s life, regardless of when he or she is baptized.
Ultimately, the issue is not how we are baptized, it’s whether we have the kind of faith that allows the grace of our baptism to flow throughout our lives
Amen.
Singing to God a New Song
Due to the fact that this sermon had a piece of music as part of it's center, it cannot be written out. I invite you to click on the link below not only to hear the sermon, but especially to hear an amazing version of "We Three Kings" that our music director, Bruce Smith, did on the piano plucking the strings of the piano as part of the song.
Candle Messages: The Gift of Love
by Connie Frierson
1 John 4:7-21
Well Beloved, every Christmas Season I experience something, something baffling and big and awesome, something that only seems to come in the cold and quiet of winter. I want to see if you experience this too. At some time on Christmas Eve or Christmas day or the week after Christmas or even on Epiphany, I get the sense that I need to think about why I am here? What is my purpose? What is supposed to drive my life? This is such a big question that I am not even sure if the question is why, how, what or who. It is the big question of our life. The question comes at funny times, here, in the busiest time of church and family, I might be up to my elbows washing greasy roasting pans in the sink. You know that dishwater that was once soapy, bubbly white and as you work just isn’t anymore. Well I will be scrubbing the worst of the pots, when I look up through my kitchen window and I think who am I supposed to be. Or I might be snatching up armfuls of torn wrapping paper off the living room floor and wonder how am I supposed to live. Or I might be letting the dog out for a short walk in the woods and there I stand with the house full of people and light at my back and the dark winter night before me, In that moment the nebula of the big question descends on me. Does anyone else here have those moments? Does anyone else experience this particularly in the snow and cold of winter and the warmth and the light of Christmas?
Well here we are in the last week of Advent, a time of reflection and preparation before the celebration of Christ’s birth. So now is a good time to prepare for that life question. Our Advent Candle this morning is the candle that symbolizes love. Our scripture passage speaks of God as love. God loving us. God sending his son. God, who is invisible, made love visible in Christ. How we love the invisible God by loving one another. This is a good place to start reflection on the big answer to the big question, the giant snowball question that is why, how, what and who all rolled into one.
People have been asking this question in different ways for thousands of years. The Heidelberg Catechism, that great masterpiece of theological reflection finished in 1562, asked the big question this way. “Q.1.What is your only comfort in life and in death?” Answer, that I belong body and soul to Jesus Christ, who paid the debt for sin, frees me from evil, protects me, gives me life and through the Holy Spirit makes me ready and willing to live for him. I paraphrased but that is the substance. It is masterful, true, and important. But we need a month of Sundays to puzzle it out. There is a simpler answer to the big question. A lawyer asked Jesus the big question like this, “What is the most important commandment?” This is a variation on the big question, “Jesus what is most important?” Jesus answered to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and your neighbor as yourself. If we are to prepare for the big question here is where we need to start, with Jesus’ answer, the Heidelberg Catechism, our scripture today from 1 John 4. These all give us the God’s answer when the big question comes to call some snowy moment in the next weeks. Love with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Belong to Christ body and soul. Love one another. This is the answer to the big question.
My problem is that the answer to my big question is so big that I don’t know how to do it. Love with heart, soul, mind and strength, Love because God is love, Belong body and soul to Christ. Those answers are giant and enormous. Those answers are ginormous. I think our ginormous God can help us with this by thinking very, very small, thinking of babies and old men’s toes.
Those things don’t seem to go together do they, babies and old men’s toes? But when we are looking for the big answers we need to look for those moments when God is teaching us. A teachable moment came to me as I was reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. I think most of you have heard the title, or seen the movie, directed by Elia Kazan and many of you have read, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. The book is largely autobiographical and was written by Betty Smith. It recounts the experience and life and thought of a young girl, Francie Nolan growing up in about 1912 in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. In the particular passage I am thinking of Francie is at the day old bread store, waiting for the trucks to come in for the poor of Brooklyn to buy their bread cheap. Francie is waiting and sees the oldest man she has ever seen. This ancient bent over man is sitting in the sunlight by the bakery window resting. Francie sees what perhaps only an eleven year olds would notice. She looks down and she sees the old man’s shoes are broken open and Francie can see his calloused, narly toes through the broken shoes. Quite frankly Francie is repulsed. Those toes are gray and curling and dirty. Suddenly Francie has a new thought in her 11-year-old head, a kind of scary thought. Francie suddenly knows that this old man’s toes were once as treasured and beautiful and loved as her little brother’s toes. That this broken, older than old, man was once someone’s baby, someone’s treasure, someone’s beloved. And in her mind’s eye Francie sees him at all the stages of his life, kicking his legs in a stroller, toddling, playing ball, courting, becoming a father and provider, so useful and necessary in the meat and potatoes of life. But then Francie becomes frightened because she knows that she herself will become old and curled and calloused like that old man’s toes. This is a true moment, when we see past and present and future melding together, when we see our mortality, when we see others and see ourselves too. For Francie this was a big question moment. This was a moment to see life and death, the old man’s life and death, and Francie’s life and death.
The only thing that can give hope and meaning to life and death is to see both life and death wrapped in God’s love and care. The great truth of God comes out when we see both babies and old men’s toes as being wrapped in God’s love. The thing that gives meaning to all the questions of life is to think that the old man, and the young girl Francie and you and I are loved. We are the beloveds. And we join in with God’s love when we love the old man with the narly toes and the baby he once was and frightened young Francie. “Beloved let us love one another, because love is from God.” We do not see the invisible God, but we see that beaten down old man sitting in the sunlight in the warm bakery. So we are to love God, by loving the one God puts in front of us. We have times of great insight when we see others as God’s beloved.
These are the things I think about in the snowy days of Advent. These are things to think and pray about in this time leading up to the celebration of God’s love come to earth; as a baby, as a boy in the temple, as a teacher and healer, as a broken and bleeding man on an ugly cross. The Beloved son helps us to see all the other Beloveds around us.
I would like to end this sermon with a hymn, In the Bleak Mid Winter. Matthew Ward sang this hymn last Sunday night at his concert here. I have included the lyrics in your bulletin. I had never heard the song before. But the hymn captured my winter reflections on the big question. Here are some things you may think about as Bruce sings; how cold things are before God’s love come into our lives, before love warms us, we are iron and stone; how even heaven could not hold God’s love that spills out to us in the coming of Christ; how Mary worshiped truly by kissing that baby head. Perhaps the question in the final verse is our big advent question. What other gift can we give the Christ Child, but the gift of love?
So beloved, kiss a babies head this Christmas. Wrap the elderly in the warmth of a sunny window. Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, because Christ came for love of us. We exist body and soul to return that love to Jesus Christ.
Amen.
1 John 4:7-21
Well Beloved, every Christmas Season I experience something, something baffling and big and awesome, something that only seems to come in the cold and quiet of winter. I want to see if you experience this too. At some time on Christmas Eve or Christmas day or the week after Christmas or even on Epiphany, I get the sense that I need to think about why I am here? What is my purpose? What is supposed to drive my life? This is such a big question that I am not even sure if the question is why, how, what or who. It is the big question of our life. The question comes at funny times, here, in the busiest time of church and family, I might be up to my elbows washing greasy roasting pans in the sink. You know that dishwater that was once soapy, bubbly white and as you work just isn’t anymore. Well I will be scrubbing the worst of the pots, when I look up through my kitchen window and I think who am I supposed to be. Or I might be snatching up armfuls of torn wrapping paper off the living room floor and wonder how am I supposed to live. Or I might be letting the dog out for a short walk in the woods and there I stand with the house full of people and light at my back and the dark winter night before me, In that moment the nebula of the big question descends on me. Does anyone else here have those moments? Does anyone else experience this particularly in the snow and cold of winter and the warmth and the light of Christmas?
Well here we are in the last week of Advent, a time of reflection and preparation before the celebration of Christ’s birth. So now is a good time to prepare for that life question. Our Advent Candle this morning is the candle that symbolizes love. Our scripture passage speaks of God as love. God loving us. God sending his son. God, who is invisible, made love visible in Christ. How we love the invisible God by loving one another. This is a good place to start reflection on the big answer to the big question, the giant snowball question that is why, how, what and who all rolled into one.
People have been asking this question in different ways for thousands of years. The Heidelberg Catechism, that great masterpiece of theological reflection finished in 1562, asked the big question this way. “Q.1.What is your only comfort in life and in death?” Answer, that I belong body and soul to Jesus Christ, who paid the debt for sin, frees me from evil, protects me, gives me life and through the Holy Spirit makes me ready and willing to live for him. I paraphrased but that is the substance. It is masterful, true, and important. But we need a month of Sundays to puzzle it out. There is a simpler answer to the big question. A lawyer asked Jesus the big question like this, “What is the most important commandment?” This is a variation on the big question, “Jesus what is most important?” Jesus answered to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and your neighbor as yourself. If we are to prepare for the big question here is where we need to start, with Jesus’ answer, the Heidelberg Catechism, our scripture today from 1 John 4. These all give us the God’s answer when the big question comes to call some snowy moment in the next weeks. Love with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Belong to Christ body and soul. Love one another. This is the answer to the big question.
My problem is that the answer to my big question is so big that I don’t know how to do it. Love with heart, soul, mind and strength, Love because God is love, Belong body and soul to Christ. Those answers are giant and enormous. Those answers are ginormous. I think our ginormous God can help us with this by thinking very, very small, thinking of babies and old men’s toes.
Those things don’t seem to go together do they, babies and old men’s toes? But when we are looking for the big answers we need to look for those moments when God is teaching us. A teachable moment came to me as I was reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. I think most of you have heard the title, or seen the movie, directed by Elia Kazan and many of you have read, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. The book is largely autobiographical and was written by Betty Smith. It recounts the experience and life and thought of a young girl, Francie Nolan growing up in about 1912 in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. In the particular passage I am thinking of Francie is at the day old bread store, waiting for the trucks to come in for the poor of Brooklyn to buy their bread cheap. Francie is waiting and sees the oldest man she has ever seen. This ancient bent over man is sitting in the sunlight by the bakery window resting. Francie sees what perhaps only an eleven year olds would notice. She looks down and she sees the old man’s shoes are broken open and Francie can see his calloused, narly toes through the broken shoes. Quite frankly Francie is repulsed. Those toes are gray and curling and dirty. Suddenly Francie has a new thought in her 11-year-old head, a kind of scary thought. Francie suddenly knows that this old man’s toes were once as treasured and beautiful and loved as her little brother’s toes. That this broken, older than old, man was once someone’s baby, someone’s treasure, someone’s beloved. And in her mind’s eye Francie sees him at all the stages of his life, kicking his legs in a stroller, toddling, playing ball, courting, becoming a father and provider, so useful and necessary in the meat and potatoes of life. But then Francie becomes frightened because she knows that she herself will become old and curled and calloused like that old man’s toes. This is a true moment, when we see past and present and future melding together, when we see our mortality, when we see others and see ourselves too. For Francie this was a big question moment. This was a moment to see life and death, the old man’s life and death, and Francie’s life and death.
The only thing that can give hope and meaning to life and death is to see both life and death wrapped in God’s love and care. The great truth of God comes out when we see both babies and old men’s toes as being wrapped in God’s love. The thing that gives meaning to all the questions of life is to think that the old man, and the young girl Francie and you and I are loved. We are the beloveds. And we join in with God’s love when we love the old man with the narly toes and the baby he once was and frightened young Francie. “Beloved let us love one another, because love is from God.” We do not see the invisible God, but we see that beaten down old man sitting in the sunlight in the warm bakery. So we are to love God, by loving the one God puts in front of us. We have times of great insight when we see others as God’s beloved.
These are the things I think about in the snowy days of Advent. These are things to think and pray about in this time leading up to the celebration of God’s love come to earth; as a baby, as a boy in the temple, as a teacher and healer, as a broken and bleeding man on an ugly cross. The Beloved son helps us to see all the other Beloveds around us.
I would like to end this sermon with a hymn, In the Bleak Mid Winter. Matthew Ward sang this hymn last Sunday night at his concert here. I have included the lyrics in your bulletin. I had never heard the song before. But the hymn captured my winter reflections on the big question. Here are some things you may think about as Bruce sings; how cold things are before God’s love come into our lives, before love warms us, we are iron and stone; how even heaven could not hold God’s love that spills out to us in the coming of Christ; how Mary worshiped truly by kissing that baby head. Perhaps the question in the final verse is our big advent question. What other gift can we give the Christ Child, but the gift of love?
So beloved, kiss a babies head this Christmas. Wrap the elderly in the warmth of a sunny window. Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, because Christ came for love of us. We exist body and soul to return that love to Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Candle Messages: Happiness or Joy?
Luke 1:39-45
December 12, 2010
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
You know, I’m not much of a baseball fan. Other than when the Pirates won the World Series in 1971, and again in 1980, no one in my family paid much attention to baseball. I think that to develop a passion for baseball it helps to grow up in a family that loves baseball.
Don’t get me wrong. I still loved it when the Pirates won the World Series, but I think I loved it as much for other reasons than just a love of baseball or a love of the Pirates. For example, one thing I loved about them winning the 1971 series is that my friends and I, all age 12, got to jump on our bikes and ride around town screaming, “We WON!” at the top of our lungs, and we weren’t going to get in trouble.
What I loved about 1980 series win is that at the time I was in college with a lot of people from Baltimore. And when the Pirates went down 3 games to 1 to the Orioles, the Baltimore fans got very obnoxious, including grabbing a friend of mine’s Terrible Towel and throwing it into the fire in the fireplace. It was really fun to see the smugness wiped off their faces when the Pirates won.
Still, I’ve always been the proverbial “jump-on-the-bandwagon” type of baseball fan. In fact, I was also a bit scared to play baseball. That’s an odd thing to hear me say because I loved playing physical sports lacrosse and hockey, and even backyard tackle football, sports that really do hurt. It’s just that the idea of standing still while someone whips a hardball in my direction,… well,… all I could ever think of while standing in the batter’s box was that the ball was really going to hurt if it hits me.
Despite my ignorance about baseball, there are a lot of things about baseball to really like. For example, my favorite sports movies are all baseball movies. For some reason, baseball plays well on the silver screen. Also, baseball legend has some great stories. And despite my lukewarm feelings about baseball, I was really touched this past week by the death of the great Cubs second baseman Ron Santo.
Those of you who follow baseball know that he was a great baseball player for the Chicago Cubs. Nine times he was on the all-star team, and he won five golden gloves for being the best defensive player in the league at his position. But it wasn’t his feats on the baseball field that made him great. It was how he lived his life that made him great. You see, he wasn’t supposed to be able to play baseball. At age 18, which was in the early 1960s, he was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Treatments for diabetes at the time were nowhere near what they are now. The doctor told Santo to forget about playing baseball. His condition wouldn’t allow for it. Instead, he needed to focus on doing whatever he could to extend his life. He was told that if he was lucky he could live for 20 or 25 more years, but that was it.
Santo was devastated, but he also didn’t let the doctor define his life. He kept playing baseball, while also self-monitoring his disease. He kept it hidden from others, knowing that the team probably wouldn’t understand, nor support him, if they knew. Despite the threat and burden that diabetes posed to his life, he never let it get him down. He was known for always being filled with joy as both a teammate and a leader. He never complained no matter what he faced.
After baseball, he became a color analyst for Cubs baseball. He was an effervescent figure. In an age when analysts were supposed to be calmly critical, he was a homer. When the Cubs did something great, he cheered. When they didn’t, he pouted and moaned. He wore the love of the Cubs on his sleeve. Over time the ravages of diabetes led to him have eye surgery, heart surgery, and twelve leg surgeries. Finally, they had to amputate both legs below the knee because of chronic circulation problems. Again, he never complained and never let it dim his spirit. The first spring training after his amputations he showed up with Cubs colors wrapped around his prostheses, and joyfully asked how people like his legs.
When Monsignor Daniel Mayall did his funeral last week, he said of Santo that he embodied three virtues: joy, hope, and courage. And of these three the greatest was joy. As he said, “Joy was a virtue for Ron… joy was a part of his life, every day and every season. …Ron Santo was a joyful man.”
When he died last week at age 70, it wasn’t from diabetes. It was from complications of bladder cancer. He died not as a victim of disease, but as a man of joy. He exuded the kind of joy that we hear about in our passage for this morning. Think about the joy of Elizabeth and Mary in our passage. They were in situations that didn’t necessarily evoke joy.
Elizabeth was older. Today she might be considered somewhat young, depending on who you are. She was probably in her mid-forties or early fifties, but she was clearly past normal childbearing age for that day. In an age when the life span was the early fifties, she was old. Think about what it would be like for you if you were in your sixties or seventies today and got pregnant. Would you be joyful? You’d be scared, but she was filled with joy. Mary was at the other end of the spectrum. She was probably in her mid- to late teens. She was pregnant before marriage. Typically a woman in that situation would be quietly dismissed by her fiancé and left to fend for herself. She would also be rejected by her family because of the disgrace she would have brought on them. But she wasn’t scared. She was filled with joy.
Elizabeth, Mary, and Santo all displayed an attitude that is so essential to being a Christian, an attitude that many Christians have a hard time with. We are called to joy, but the problem is that we keep pursuing happiness, and that pursuit gets in the way of our joy. We have all been brought up on the belief of the Declaration of Independence, which says that we all have a right to the pursuit of happiness. And I agree with that belief. But I also know that the pursuit of happiness doesn’t necessarily lead to a sense of joy. There’s a difference between happiness and joy.
What’s the difference? Happiness is brought on by external events. We are happy because of what is going on around us. We are happy when we buy a new car, but as soon as the new car smell goes away, our happiness fades. We are happy when the Steelers or Penguins or Pirates win, but happiness fades if the win wasn’t dominating enough, or till after the next loss. We are happy whenever we get something new, or when something good happens to us, but we aren’t necessarily joyful.
Joy is different. Joy is an internal condition that is a by-product of real faith. We have joy because we sense God with us, and this joy is there no matter what is taking place around us. Joy is something we can feel, even when bad things are taking place. I’m not saying that we are joyful because we are ill, fired from our job, or struggling in our marriage. But we don’t let those things diminish our interior joy for long. Being joyful means that even if someone close to us dies, we can still find good and beauty in life. Being joyful means that even if we become ill, we still find reasons to smile and find what’s good in life around us—the love of others, the abilities of the doctors. Joy comes from within. Happiness comes from without. Joy persists. Happiness is temporary.
Let me give you an example of the difference between the two. Do you remember the Steelers-Buffalo Bills game from two weeks ago? We eventually won in overtime, but it was close. We could have lost. At one point in overtime, the Bills’ young receiver, Stevie Johnson, got free in the end zone. The ball was thrown to him, and he was wide open. The ball hit him right in the hands for an easy catch, but he dropped the ball. He sat dejected in the end zone for a while, and then went on the bench and sulked. Later he tweeted on Twitter the following message to God and his fans: “I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!! YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO..”
This is a man who has pursued happiness, but not joy. A joyful person would have recognized that this was just a game, and that he has a lot to be grateful for: having the talent to be a world-class athlete, having the ability to make millions of dollars for catching a football, being cheered on by tens of thousands of fans, and having more opportunities to make game-winning touchdowns. Like Johnson, though, we can confuse happiness and joy.
A mature faith, a faith really rooted in trusting God, being open to God, and serving God, doesn’t depend on events for joy. A mature faith has joy in all circumstances. And it realizes that we face a choice: will we react with joy or something else to life around us? Remember, reacting with joy doesn’t mean ignoring pain. It means having joy in God despite pain, turmoil, struggles, and grief.
Do you pursue happiness in your life, or do you cultivate joy? Your answer makes all the difference in what you experience in life.
Amen.
December 12, 2010
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
You know, I’m not much of a baseball fan. Other than when the Pirates won the World Series in 1971, and again in 1980, no one in my family paid much attention to baseball. I think that to develop a passion for baseball it helps to grow up in a family that loves baseball.
Don’t get me wrong. I still loved it when the Pirates won the World Series, but I think I loved it as much for other reasons than just a love of baseball or a love of the Pirates. For example, one thing I loved about them winning the 1971 series is that my friends and I, all age 12, got to jump on our bikes and ride around town screaming, “We WON!” at the top of our lungs, and we weren’t going to get in trouble.
What I loved about 1980 series win is that at the time I was in college with a lot of people from Baltimore. And when the Pirates went down 3 games to 1 to the Orioles, the Baltimore fans got very obnoxious, including grabbing a friend of mine’s Terrible Towel and throwing it into the fire in the fireplace. It was really fun to see the smugness wiped off their faces when the Pirates won.
Still, I’ve always been the proverbial “jump-on-the-bandwagon” type of baseball fan. In fact, I was also a bit scared to play baseball. That’s an odd thing to hear me say because I loved playing physical sports lacrosse and hockey, and even backyard tackle football, sports that really do hurt. It’s just that the idea of standing still while someone whips a hardball in my direction,… well,… all I could ever think of while standing in the batter’s box was that the ball was really going to hurt if it hits me.
Despite my ignorance about baseball, there are a lot of things about baseball to really like. For example, my favorite sports movies are all baseball movies. For some reason, baseball plays well on the silver screen. Also, baseball legend has some great stories. And despite my lukewarm feelings about baseball, I was really touched this past week by the death of the great Cubs second baseman Ron Santo.
Those of you who follow baseball know that he was a great baseball player for the Chicago Cubs. Nine times he was on the all-star team, and he won five golden gloves for being the best defensive player in the league at his position. But it wasn’t his feats on the baseball field that made him great. It was how he lived his life that made him great. You see, he wasn’t supposed to be able to play baseball. At age 18, which was in the early 1960s, he was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Treatments for diabetes at the time were nowhere near what they are now. The doctor told Santo to forget about playing baseball. His condition wouldn’t allow for it. Instead, he needed to focus on doing whatever he could to extend his life. He was told that if he was lucky he could live for 20 or 25 more years, but that was it.
Santo was devastated, but he also didn’t let the doctor define his life. He kept playing baseball, while also self-monitoring his disease. He kept it hidden from others, knowing that the team probably wouldn’t understand, nor support him, if they knew. Despite the threat and burden that diabetes posed to his life, he never let it get him down. He was known for always being filled with joy as both a teammate and a leader. He never complained no matter what he faced.
After baseball, he became a color analyst for Cubs baseball. He was an effervescent figure. In an age when analysts were supposed to be calmly critical, he was a homer. When the Cubs did something great, he cheered. When they didn’t, he pouted and moaned. He wore the love of the Cubs on his sleeve. Over time the ravages of diabetes led to him have eye surgery, heart surgery, and twelve leg surgeries. Finally, they had to amputate both legs below the knee because of chronic circulation problems. Again, he never complained and never let it dim his spirit. The first spring training after his amputations he showed up with Cubs colors wrapped around his prostheses, and joyfully asked how people like his legs.
When Monsignor Daniel Mayall did his funeral last week, he said of Santo that he embodied three virtues: joy, hope, and courage. And of these three the greatest was joy. As he said, “Joy was a virtue for Ron… joy was a part of his life, every day and every season. …Ron Santo was a joyful man.”
When he died last week at age 70, it wasn’t from diabetes. It was from complications of bladder cancer. He died not as a victim of disease, but as a man of joy. He exuded the kind of joy that we hear about in our passage for this morning. Think about the joy of Elizabeth and Mary in our passage. They were in situations that didn’t necessarily evoke joy.
Elizabeth was older. Today she might be considered somewhat young, depending on who you are. She was probably in her mid-forties or early fifties, but she was clearly past normal childbearing age for that day. In an age when the life span was the early fifties, she was old. Think about what it would be like for you if you were in your sixties or seventies today and got pregnant. Would you be joyful? You’d be scared, but she was filled with joy. Mary was at the other end of the spectrum. She was probably in her mid- to late teens. She was pregnant before marriage. Typically a woman in that situation would be quietly dismissed by her fiancé and left to fend for herself. She would also be rejected by her family because of the disgrace she would have brought on them. But she wasn’t scared. She was filled with joy.
Elizabeth, Mary, and Santo all displayed an attitude that is so essential to being a Christian, an attitude that many Christians have a hard time with. We are called to joy, but the problem is that we keep pursuing happiness, and that pursuit gets in the way of our joy. We have all been brought up on the belief of the Declaration of Independence, which says that we all have a right to the pursuit of happiness. And I agree with that belief. But I also know that the pursuit of happiness doesn’t necessarily lead to a sense of joy. There’s a difference between happiness and joy.
What’s the difference? Happiness is brought on by external events. We are happy because of what is going on around us. We are happy when we buy a new car, but as soon as the new car smell goes away, our happiness fades. We are happy when the Steelers or Penguins or Pirates win, but happiness fades if the win wasn’t dominating enough, or till after the next loss. We are happy whenever we get something new, or when something good happens to us, but we aren’t necessarily joyful.
Joy is different. Joy is an internal condition that is a by-product of real faith. We have joy because we sense God with us, and this joy is there no matter what is taking place around us. Joy is something we can feel, even when bad things are taking place. I’m not saying that we are joyful because we are ill, fired from our job, or struggling in our marriage. But we don’t let those things diminish our interior joy for long. Being joyful means that even if someone close to us dies, we can still find good and beauty in life. Being joyful means that even if we become ill, we still find reasons to smile and find what’s good in life around us—the love of others, the abilities of the doctors. Joy comes from within. Happiness comes from without. Joy persists. Happiness is temporary.
Let me give you an example of the difference between the two. Do you remember the Steelers-Buffalo Bills game from two weeks ago? We eventually won in overtime, but it was close. We could have lost. At one point in overtime, the Bills’ young receiver, Stevie Johnson, got free in the end zone. The ball was thrown to him, and he was wide open. The ball hit him right in the hands for an easy catch, but he dropped the ball. He sat dejected in the end zone for a while, and then went on the bench and sulked. Later he tweeted on Twitter the following message to God and his fans: “I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!! YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO..”
This is a man who has pursued happiness, but not joy. A joyful person would have recognized that this was just a game, and that he has a lot to be grateful for: having the talent to be a world-class athlete, having the ability to make millions of dollars for catching a football, being cheered on by tens of thousands of fans, and having more opportunities to make game-winning touchdowns. Like Johnson, though, we can confuse happiness and joy.
A mature faith, a faith really rooted in trusting God, being open to God, and serving God, doesn’t depend on events for joy. A mature faith has joy in all circumstances. And it realizes that we face a choice: will we react with joy or something else to life around us? Remember, reacting with joy doesn’t mean ignoring pain. It means having joy in God despite pain, turmoil, struggles, and grief.
Do you pursue happiness in your life, or do you cultivate joy? Your answer makes all the difference in what you experience in life.
Amen.
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