Sermon April 23, 2015

Sermon August 23 2015

1 Kings 8:(1,6,10-11), 22-30, 41-43

Psalm 84

Ephesians 6:10-20

John 6:56-69

“What We Live”

God of Power, God of Peace, you equip us to face the existential, political, and spiritual challenges of this and every era. May we be mindful of your protection; and help us share your word in ways that promote love, grace, and justice. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our rock and our redeemer. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Sometimes—and I may be alone in this—but sometimes I imagine that the clothes I put on each morning like a costume. Not because I’m dressing like someone else, but because whatever it is I am doing that day requires a particular look or function. If I intend to scrub dirty walls or take down curtains and wash them—or spend the day cleaning and sweating (because that’s what I do), then I usually will dress in something that’s worn and usually sleeveless even if it’s cool outside. The role and position I am filling, the words and thoughts and feelings I have work best when the inside matches the outside. 

I understand that God doesn’t care what I wear—God, as far as I know, is completely unconcerned about the state of my clothing. Sometimes, biblically, though, we hear about the importance of clothing symbolically or housing/dwellings meant for particular purposes or even the state and condition of the body as it’s made ready for rituals or practices. And I don’t think that’s because God wouldn’t like it otherwise—sometimes what we wear on the outside has an effect on how we live on the inside. Or maybe what we wear on the outside reflects, hides, or distracts from what’s on the inside. 

But I’m not just talking about apparel either. Sometimes places are costumed or decorated beyond utility for the sake of whatever role they play. The external is meant to evoke a purpose for the place. Churches have particular kinds of architecture for particular reasons—not because God likes particular kinds of architecture more, but because we want to draw out thoughts or feelings with lofty ceilings or big windows that fill with sunlight. Places where intimate meals or drinks take place often have darker subdued architecture that stimulate personal conversation. Places also dress for a purpose and for meaning—sometimes metaphorically, sometimes very literally. 

What we wear, metaphorically and literally often can say something very profound about us. The words we use, the actions we take, the attitude we have when we take action are important—though their interpretation may change depending on who is noticing us. 

Sometimes the most powerful images around us greatly affect how we see the world. The writer of this letter to the churches in Ephesus was imprisoned at the time—several times describing being in chains for the sake of the gospel or being bound to the gospel. The writer often seems to use what can be seen and experienced immediately in his surroundings to talk about the gospel—because the immediate surroundings of the writer, a Roman prison, was a familiar place for people in his world. More specifically the symbols of Roman oppression were very common—the armored and armed soldier; the breastplates, shields, helmets, and swords of the occupying army, the oppressor. 

So when he begins to describe how he imagines the power of God being continually present with believers, he uses a powerful image that is familiar. People of faith, Jews and Christians in the Roman Empire, had strong enemies in the Romans. Rome had killed Jesus. And that strength was like a neon sign in the darkness—all that could be seen. So he used that imagery. But he turned it on its head. 

Though he used words for the kinds of armor he saw to describe the strength of God’s protection and presence, he uses them to describe spiritual conflict, spiritual defense, or spiritual protection. As I heard one preacher say, “Do you know how many weapons a breastplate of righteousness will stop? Exactly none.” That means that the justice of God—justice is another word for righteousness—is what guards our hearts. 

The Christians to whom this was written knew who their physical, earthly enemy was and what they could do about them—exactly nothing. But this armor was meant to protect the heart, mind, and soul. They needed to know truth surrounded them like a belt whatever lies were told, even those that led to their imprisonment and death. They needed to know that justice, just ways and actions were what protected them their hearts. It was God’s justice that mattered—even when they were arrested for living according to the truth of God’s love. Their feet were to move by passion to carry the Good News of peace—not the Pax Romana (Rome’s Peace, which was characterized simply defending the law and executing lawbreakers, no matter how unjust the laws.) But the good news of peace is that it could not exist without God’s justice, equity, hope, and trusting in them. Faith was a shield to protect against the weapons of evil; and salvation protected eternally. The only weapon was the sword; God’s word, Jesus Christ. 

Jesus, who said to Peter, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.” And Paul, purveyor of the word of God, Jesus Christ, who gave up violence and oppression because of the presence of Jesus Christ wrote these word in opposition to violence, not in support of it—even in defense of that word. To use violence as a means of proclaiming the gospel of peace denies that gospel. When I say violence, I mean the violence of words as well as weapons. 

Some pastors and other Christian leaders I know of have dealt with hateful phone calls and letters when they have encouraged loving people instead of judging people for who they love or how they live. Many people are treated as less than welcome because their beliefs, life-style, or dreams are somewhat different than those in authority or those who claim to be ambassadors of the truth.

I hesitated to preach this text this morning, like many of my fellow preachers I’ve been in conversation with, because it’s been so badly preached over the years. It’s been used by those who would take up arms to supposedly “defend and spread the gospel” over the years that it’s hard to forget how it’s been misused. And without context, without understanding to whom and to where it’s written it is easy to misuse and mislead. Instead of promoting peace by violence as some have said, it proclaims the opposite. 

Though Paul or a student or teacher within Paul’s tradition wrote of the armor of God, Paul also wrote in Colossians about how in baptism we are clothed in Christ--about how we are wearing love. “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.” (Col. 3:12-14) Each description rejects using faith or the word of God—the bible or Jesus—to wound people. Instead each one reveals how love, justice, compassion, faith, truth and salvation are God’s intentions for us—both in the goals for our lives and how we get there. If you want to phrase it another way—you can’t build God’s house and use the devil’s tools. How we live matters, not just what we believe. What we say matters, too, using respectful loving language. What we live and what we do matters—our living and doing are love; love for other children of God, love for God, and love for all that God has created. 

So let us choose our spiritual apparel carefully— and wear the loving lives we have been given so that we can love all those we meet. 

To God be the glory—as we dedicate our very lives. Amen