Sermon January 30 2011

Micah 6:1-8

Psalm 15

1 Corinthians 1:18-31

Matthew 5:1-16

“Vision Beautiful”

Beauty is notoriously hard to define. That may sound kind of dramatic, but think just about people you love and find beautiful. What makes each one beautiful? Is it some quality you can name or even something that anyone could see? It is also said that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder—which emphasizes this hard to define quality and makes sense as we look around us and see the diversity of that which we call beauty. The notion of beauty differs somewhat from person to person and is extremely different from culture to culture.

This morning we seek to understand the beautiful word that Jesus gives in the beginning of the sermon on the mount , which we’ve come to call the beatitudes. A beatitude, as I understand it, is a beautiful word picture—in this case a beautiful word picture of Jesus vision of the possibilities and realities for humanity. It’s not just a idealized notion of a heavenly world, but how Jesus faced and named those things that are often denied or opposed by majority society.

Jesus’ vision beautiful is one of depth, breadth and the great heights of peace, justice and kindness—not just all things sweet and nice, pleasant and comfortable. But this beauty is only realized with genuine change or clear intention. Each beatitude and description of the life of disciples draws us to God’s household—where the vision of Jesus’ teaching is lived, not just in the great beyond, but as real community is built and shared here and now. As a “vision beautiful,” they command our attention and willing responses for the transformation of this world for the sake of all.[1]

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt. 5:3) The disciples gathered round him, sitting at his feet—on top of the mountain, where Jesus, like Moses, heard God’s word of guidance for the people. By seeing Jesus on the mountain, we are made aware that something important is about to happen.

Jesus began with this teaching about those who are poor in spirit. But what does that mean? One perspective on the blessedness of being poor in spirit emphasizes our need for God. And in this way, we understand that we cannot meet the challenges, problems and obstacles in life without God. We have to admit our powerlessness so that we can accept God’s presence and power in our lives. I struggle with this in some pretty mundane ways personally, when I try and do everything by myself and then get angry about it. This happens in so many areas of my life. In the most pragmatic ways, I have to learn not to just do something instead of offering a task, duty or idea to be done in community because I believe that working together is one of the ways that God’s power is manifested in church as well as in our personal relationships.

Another way of exploring the blessedness of the poor in spirit is to understand that spirit and breath use the same word in both Hebrew and Greek. The text can be understood to express physical breathlessness or weakness—this expresses the urgency of the household of heaven—not just in some distance place, but it is a nearby for the relief of those in need. Through our own weakness, we find ourselves living in and with God’s household and through our own weakness, we are called upon to reach out and express the hospitality of God’s household to others seeking what God has to offer. We don’t offer all the answers—we welcome others to a place where limitations and questions, problems and searches are encouraged.

In our daily discipleship, in our rising awareness and participation in the Vision Beautiful, we acknowledge our need for God and how it is that we welcome others into God’s household with open arms and hearts.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

How can it be that blessings come as we sorrow for those we lose? I’ve seen people rail in anger when loved ones die—shaking in rage—and I understand it. I’ve seen people crumple in sorrow, stolidly face the future almost without responding, quietly weep, tell stories of celebrating and any combination of those and other reactions.

We mourn in the face of loss—and we find comfort. How does God work to comfort us? Most of the time when I have been aware of the comfort of God in the lives of those who sorrow, it comes in the form of family and friends who reach out or who accompany and care. Sometimes it’s the pastor who calls and brings comfort, but the most effective comfort comes in the form of a covered dish and an embrace, just simply being there. It comes, as I read once in a now lost poem, in the bouquet of peonies from the garden, still tightly bound, ant adorned and dew splashed, accompanied by tuna casserole. Comfort comes when a friend just sits and doesn’t try to make the pain go away. This is comfort in the household of God.

We also mourn when we realize when we have sinned—when we are in need of forgiveness and the grace of God in our lives. Again, this comes from the realization of our own need to be forgiven as we fail to live fully into our potential. We need to know that God will wipe the slate clean and we can begin again—by asking for forgiveness and by forgiving others weekly, daily or if necessary, by the minute.

In our daily discipleship, in our rising awareness and participation in the Vision Beautiful, we acknowledge how our care for others brings comfort and brings the house of God alive each day. We mourn our failings and our brokenness and bring those to God seeking the wholeness God desires for us.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”

As the Vision Beautiful grows and fills us with wonder, we realize that our understanding of power is being overturned and God’s power emerges in weakness. As I read and contemplated the texts for the week, I couldn’t find a better example of this than Paul’s letter to Corinth, in my paraphrase of his words, “Some of us like to have miracles and others of us like to have the reasonable explanation, but instead, we talk about Christ being crucified—which is shameful to some and ridiculous to others. But to those of us to whom it is revealed, both those raised to think it’s shameful and those who were taught it was weak and ridiculous, it is Christ who walked to the cross by unfailingly revealing God in his life who shows God’s power and God’s wisdom. Gods’ power was revealed as Jesus denied the power of tyranny wherever it exists and denied corrupting influence in God’s people and tyranny’s power everywhere.” The Cross points us to "…a third way: transformation — look for God's presence in unexpected places: in suffering, weakness and abandonment rather than in signs, wonders, and reason" (Craddock et al, Preaching Through the Christian Year A). [2]

In our lives of discipleship—as students of Jesus, we are called upon to live according to God’s will as he lived. I have heard this called obedience to God—and I agree, but it’s deeper and fuller than simply following the rules. Jesus often called upon leadership of the Jewish people to consider the spirit of the law rather than ritual obedience. For example, Sabbath observance served at least two purposes, according to the First Testament, revealed a full understanding of the abundance of God’s creation. We can rest for one day—and not work—because God’s creation provides enough and more. Obedience to Sabbath observance reminds us and others of that abundance. The second reason for Sabbath revealed God’s justice and mercy in the world—according to Deuteronomy 5 (14-15) which says, “you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, so that your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” Sabbath means respite from labor for all living things who work with and around God’s people. That is discipleship while being attentive to God’s mercy and God’s justice—which is more than blind obedience.

In our daily discipleship, in our rising awareness and participation in the Vision Beautiful, we realize how each blessed saying—each beautiful word builds, each upon the other, layer upon layer of a vision of the habitation of God.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”

Jesus sought to reveal God’s desire for a world where the hungry are fed and the thirsty given drink—where the homeless are found a place of belonging and where the lonely find companionship. In a broader and fuller awareness of the places and times when we glimpse God, we are made aware of the places where we can bring the presence of God. In Micah’s words, God’s people, disciples of Jesus Christ among them, are called to do justice and to love kindness. Justice we understand, even if we don’t always know what to do about it. We understand that needs must be met. According to one Hebrew scholar the phrase hesed, translated kindness means [to] Love covenant loyalty: the translation of 'kindness' is disastrously weak. The word hesed means to reorder life into a community of enduring relations of fidelity. Community means standing together in right relationship—righteousness, which is a word that contains God’s justice, mercy, compassion, peace and all that God is and intends for us as we live within covenant.

In our daily discipleship, in our rising awareness and participation in the Vision Beautiful, we move beyond what we want for ourselves into a place where we can envision God’s will for all the world.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.”

As faithful lives move us and awareness of the full nature of discipleship arises, we understand that in being merciful—letting go of vengeance, retribution, accusation, reprisal and giving God our anger—we receive that mercy. Unless and until this can happen, we don’t understand the household of God in and through us today.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

As our vision clears, as we give up our objections to needing God for life itself and know the comfort of acknowledging our sins, receiving forgiveness, we are less distracted by the struggle to live according to material signs of success. We can see God, perhaps just glimpses—even if we are still unable to encompass that experience in words or any other way.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

In the same way, our rising sight and knowledge of Jesus’ living participation in God’s household and way means we let go of the unimportant disagreements and focus on what brings us together. As God’s created beings, as one people on this earth, we can realize that national boundaries, tribal loyalty, even religious fidelity are infinitely less important that coming together over what unites us. As one of my former seminary professors wrote this week in regard to President Obama, “The president's Christian faith compels him to seek common ground with his political opponents in our shared desire to provide a secure and prosperous life for the nation, especially for those who are poor and vulnerable. It requires him to seek strength in our diversity, to explore solutions that bridge the partisan divide.”[3] Whatever divides us, politics or otherwise—we are called to follow the same principles. Making peace and giving in are not the same, yet in humility, we are called to be children of God together.

In our daily discipleship, in our rising awareness and participation in the Vision Beautiful, we can see that while this vision is for the here and now and for the lifetime to come—it is a vision only available with the strength and power of God in and around us.

Jesus taught them, saying, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And Jesus also taught them, saying, “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely* on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

The way of discipleship, following Jesus Christ faithfully is not one that makes us popular. It may mean that we have to stand up and proclaim truth to power—what is justice when 5 year old girls are responsible for feeding and providing for their families in lands where we spend billions to fight a “relatively popular” war? When do we see righteousness when thousands of people lose their homes because of a culture of greed?

In Micah’s word—we do our best to remain faithful. We don’t do it by trying to placate God—thinking that all awful things must be God’s will and so we try to make up for our supposed failings. We are called to be real with God and one another in our discipleship. And it begins, lives and ends as we walk humbly with God: abandon[ing] all self-sufficiency, acknowledg[ing] in our daily attitude and actionst that life is indeed derived from the reality of God" (Brueggeman et al, Texts for Preaching Year A).[4]

Let our discipleship continue with the goal and the hope of revealing more of God within us and the hope of seeing more of God around us. Amen.

[1] VISION BEAUTIFUL By Sean M. Gilbert, p. 107, seasons of the spirit, articles: ACE 2010-2011.

[2] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/january-30-2011-i-third.html

[3] http://www.tikkun.org/article.php/winter2011lowery

[4] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/january-30-2011-i-third.html

Sermon January 23 2011

Isaiah 9:1-4

Psalm 27:1, 4-9

1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Matthew 4:12-23

“Discovering Discipleship”

I grew up attending church—from the time I was an infant. I was nurtured by different adults in the congregation during worship because my mother played the piano. With various adults, I played with and sung out of the hymnals or played with the bible and I know there were snacks. I also remember crying a few times and being taken out to calm down—or be scolded pretty severely by my mother when I wouldn’t quiet down. My experience of worship was pretty pleasant, but I was also a lone child in worship much of the time. And I learned what church was in that place as I participated. Some of that might sound familiar to many of you—but not all of us grew up knowing church as a norm.

Some of us gathered here have come to the church later in life—for various reasons, at various ages and from various places or perspectives. And as older children, youth and adults we see church from different perspective. Maybe church habits didn’t begin until adolescence or adulthood—some for personal fulfillment of needs or seeking faith within the needs of family in mind. Each of us brings a different set of experiences to this place, though we may find common areas, too. We are different in age, perspective, experience and need. But daily, each of us is a student of Jesus Christ and his life at different stages and places. Wherever we decide to follow Jesus, with that decision to be a disciples, we are then called to make more disciples—again, not just members or recruits into our particular set of beliefs, but “people who will join a learning community and carry on learning – lifelong, to the end of the age.”[1]

I’ve often had conversations about the validity of proselytizing or attempting to convert somebody to a religious faith, our own for example—which might seem to be a good idea or even the purpose of the gospel according to some perspectives. But to me, Jesus’ own purpose looks less like conversion to his faith tradition and more about strengthening a relationship with God and with other human beings and creation. The gospels themselves have particular perspectives—so we get some urgings toward conversion there. But within the message of Jesus, as I understand it, we hear more emphases toward participating in the household (or kingdom) that God was and is revealing.

We are disciples, not because we are members of a church or because we believe in a particular set of denominational values, but because we follow Jesus Christ as active participants and lifelong learners in the household of God that he was revealing in his life. We participate in a discipleship of learning—not only conversion. And as a church who claims the name disciple, don’t just offer possibilities for the answer, but we offer place where questions and answers can be explored in a lifetime of following Jesus. With that model of learning, we can see the difference between lifelong discovery of purpose and understanding and recruitment or one-time conversion. That may seem like a technicality in some ways—the difference between a recruit or convert and a student or follower, but there are some significant differences.

Discipleship as a lifelong learning process and journey of discovery is exactly that—it takes a lifetime to be a disciple. If making disciples means just getting someone to convert, then once that goal is reached, the discipleship is done. It seems to me that making disciples means creating and sustaining opportunities to continue walking toward a faithful life which takes a community of people willing to create that process for and with one another as well as for others who want to be lifelong learners. And we will be, at times, more and less faithful to that goal.

This morning’s gospel text sets Jesus in the context of his home, Galilee, out of which he seems to conduct his ministry, often going back there after times of travel. And in Galilee he calls his first disciples, his followers, students, and eventual carriers of the message that he brings in his life. Today, we begin a look at discipleship and over the next few weeks, with texts from the Sermon on the Mount, we’ll continue to explore what it means to learn, to follow and to carry the message of Jesus as disciples throughout our lives.

In the gospel of Matthew Jesus’ life is described within the model of prophet and leader that Moses had been as he led the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt. From the beginning—as Jesus reentered the Promised Land of Israel from Egypt—after his infant life was threatened by Herod powerful king, who like Pharaoh, threatened Moses’ life. The main outcome of the Moses’ leadership of the Hebrew people—though there were many—was the uniting of the nation of Israel under the law given to them by God at Mt. Sinai. They were united under a set of ethical standards concerning how they related to God or Yahweh (as their sole focus of worship) and how they related to other people (as a community without threat of death, deception and the desire to take things from others), in other words, to love God and how to love neighbor. Over time and with explanation, the definition of neighbor changed and broadened—but it was always understood that one could not love God without loving neighbor and one could not love neighbor, either without loving God.

So, with that explanation given, we can understand Jesus as the leader, prophet, and symbol and sign of a kingdom of heaven (in Matthew’s terms) made up of those who were lifelong learners and pursuers of the ethical standards that Jesus’ life revealed. In the broader view, Jesus’ identity as a new Moses/law-giver and prophet fits into a model of lifelong learning as we understand that Moses was the guide for a generation (40 years) in which the Hebrew people (a motley assortment of people) learned what it meant to be one people, even before they arrived at their homeland.

Using Moses as a model for his community, Matthew reveal his understanding of Jesus, and he established a credibility for Jesus in this way, because Matthew’s community was Jewish and revered Moses as exemplary. We can follow this model because we, too, as disciples, need establish credibility with those to whom we tell the story, not necessarily with words but with the way that we live our lives.

According to one commentary, Matthew quotes the prophet Isaiah to explain why Jesus goes to the land of the two tribes (Zebulun and Napthali, in Galilee) that had first experienced "the wrath of God" in the form of Assyrian oppression. In fact, at the crossroads of international trade routes, Galilee knew the heel of foreign armies as they marched through, or stopped to occupy the land. There were many Jews there, mixed with the Gentiles, hungry for good news, and it's a wonderful image—again—of what is to come as the gospel spreads to the whole world, for all of God's children. Out of that place of Gentiles—another author calls it "the land of contempt"—comes light for the world in the person of Jesus, and that light is experienced as compassion for the suffering and hungers (both physical and spiritual) of the people.

Sometimes help comes from the most unexpected of places and the most unlikely of people. [2] Sometimes we feel like we are sitting in darkness waiting for light to break forth, perhaps because we remember more joy-filled times. As we have sat in those times, some of us have received an inspiring word from an unexpected place. God has sent help to me in the words of someone I have visited to bring care—I’ve heard a word of encouragement from a long-time resident of a nursing home sharing their experiences and gratitude for life. Or I’ve heard real wisdom in the authentic answer of a child, given to a worn-out cliché of a question was asked because I think I am supposed to ask it. Each one of us has those moments where we need the light that someone has to offer and also the times when we have a glimmer to share with someone who is in need. And we can continue to share those times for our whole lives—sometimes not even realizing how much our words, actions and lives mean to someone else. And we continue to receive light and hope from folks who are sharing their lives with us, but sometime we have to open our eyes to see it. Both of these are ways in which we continue to be disciples of Jesus Christ throughout our whole lives. Discipleship is partly being aware of the world around us—seeking understanding instead of waiting for it to fall into our laps.

As we move into and out of times of when we can’t see the light—as disciples, we are called to be persistent in seeking or just paying attention to the possibilities of light. Our particular authenticity can come as we acknowledge our occasional doubt and confusion within our walk. Being authentic means remembering and realizing that those times of darkness and doubts have been important parts of the disciples we are—that they made us realize the reality, the truth and the love that is in our lives. Light can come from painful times—times we would not expect to be grateful for.

And when we sometimes get too caught up in the details of our faith, we can look to Jesus’ inaugural message of repentance and pay attention to the truth that God’s kingdom is near and always has been. Whatever ignorance, darkness, sorrow or loss seems threatening to overwhelm the faith, we can look to the experiences of the people within our history of faith—from Abraham and Sarah to Moses and Miriam to Isaiah and Esther to Jesus to Mary Magdalene and to Paul and other examples famous and personal to us and know that God’s light and love are and never will be defeated by hatred and evil. Whatever seems to defeat God’s people doesn’t do it for long. All of us are offered and can receive, in sometimes unexpected ways, resurrection from the deaths that seem to be defeating. All of us can continue throughout our lives, according to our particular gifts and abilities to learn, to teach, to minister and to be encouraged through our discipleship and our shared discipleship with others.

At whatever age we find ourselves, let us continue to embrace and discover opportunities for learning what discipleship means.

As we continue in the gospels over the next few weeks, as we hear Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount (like the law God gave to Moses on the mountain) we learn more of what discipleship looks like then and now. I invite you to look over these familiar texts again as we read and proclaim them in worship.

Jesus said: Follow me and live the ways of God.

To you who feel secure in faith

and you who have doubts and skepticisms,

Jesus says, follow me.

To you who feel capable and unencumbered by responsibilities

and you who are insecure and overwhelmed,

Jesus says, follow me.

To you who have been faithful in your commitments

and you have failed or been failed,

Jesus says, follow me.

This is a time for new starts and renewed starts;

a time to follow more deeply the loving ways of God.

O God of the universe,

Christ of incarnated wisdom,

Spirit of the green-blue earth,

you illumine us with your great light of love

and, in this time, we pledge our love to you.

May we be strong in our resolve

and may our bodies be filled with your passion

as we commit ourselves to being

your healing love in this world. [3]

To the glory of God, savior, companion and light. Amen.

[1] From “Reading Matthew from the End” p. 99 in Seasons of the Spirit, ACE 2011-2011.

[2] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/january-27-2011-i-third.html F. Dean Lueking, The Lectionary Commentary and New Proclamation 2008, Herman C. Waetjen.

[3] Seasons of the Spirit, ACE 2010-2011, January 23 2011.

Sermon January 9 2011

Isaiah 42:1-9
Matthew 3:13-17

“One”

The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) over its history has had a volatile relationship with the theology of incarnation—the idea that says Jesus was one living being who was God and human—which may be news to some of you. But we have always carried within this denomination the faith that Jesus lived the life of the son of God and humanity did the work of God in his whole self as he lived and died and rose again as a human being.

As we read the gospel text this morning, we heard Matthew’s description of Jesus’ baptism, what I believe to be the beginning of Jesus’ ministry—in other words, his ordination and his acceptance of the call that God gave him. Though we have heard his identity proclaimed by angels, shepherds and magi in recent scripture texts, it is in this text that Jesus acknowledges, claims, and fully accepts the next stage of his life when he will take on his identity as beloved son of God.

And it is in this act that God claims him directly as well. While throughout the stories of Jesus’ birth and proclamation up to this point, we heard who Jesus was through God’s messengers, in this text reveals God’s voice saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved,^* with whom I am well pleased.” In Matthew’s gospel, this text states that it is Jesus who hears the voice—God calls out in love to him as he is born into this next phase of his life. As he enters into and is reborn from these waters, God claims his life more fully than ever before. It is in this moment of time that Jesus’ humanity and God’s claim upon him come together in his choice to unify what God intended for him with what he understands to be his purpose.

In this moment his will becomes one with God’s purpose and direction for him. It’s obedience to God, certainly, but it’s an active obedience—to act and live while integrating his actions with his identity as God’s anointed one, Messiah, Christ. However we understand it intellectually—or explain it reasonably—or think it through systematically and theologically—he embodies God’s will, God’s action, God’s mission and purpose in himself. He is God’s “Son, the Beloved, with whom [God] is well pleased.”

In that oneness with God, we have come to understand the subsequent actions of Jesus’ life—or perhaps, we have recognized our understanding of God within the life Jesus lives and the stories he tells. Not that they are always absolutely clear—but that’s also a part of our understanding of God. God is still God—mysterious and larger than we can understand, even in the life of Jesus.

So God’s mission and purpose—one might even say, the gospel—is embodied within the life of Jesus. In this moment—at least as I have come to understand it—Jesus claimed what God desired in his life and began to live as the son of God more fully. In Jesus’ words in Matthew’s gospel, his baptism was accomplished, “to fulfill all righteousness.” In this moment God’s right way of living was fulfilled in him—it was embodied fully in his life.

We recognize God within the life and ministry of Jesus because we can recognize in him the unity of the actions and intentions of God described by the prophet Isaiah,

Here is my servant, whom I uphold, / my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him; / he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice, / or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break, / and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; / he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed / until he has established justice in the earth; / and the coastlands wait for his teaching.

And to one God chooses, God says,

I have given you as a covenant to the people,^*
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
In Jesus’ life, we recognize these things embodied and completely embraced by the decisions he made, the teachings he spoke and the complete commitment he had to them, though that authentic and sincere commitment led him to his death. And in that kind of commitment, we recognize how his life embodied the life that delights God—that nourishes and reveals and opens God’s reality to those who know Christ.

Those who know Christ came to be known as Christians during the first century as the story of Jesus’ message began to spread throughout the world—according to the book of Acts. The word Christian identifies believers as “little Christs.” Thought first used as an insult—because Jesus met with crucifixion—it became a way of understand how believers were also a way of understanding the resurrected body of Christ. Baptism becomes a way of claiming God’s purpose within and around us because we, too, choose to claim God’s claim upon us through our participation. When we are baptized, we become one with Christ—one with the body of Christ in our world—one with the body of Christ through the ages. The amount of water—or its existence—isn’t what is most important, but the importance of baptism is the fulfillment of our response to God’s call—our acceptance of God’s claim upon us as God’s own child.

Though there is one Lord, one faith, one baptism—according to Paul’s description—there are probably as many feelings and opinions about baptism into Christ as there are people in this room. That’s probably an exaggeration, but the experience of baptism is often such an emotional one—we are imprinted deeply by those moments—that what we know about our own experience becomes primary. Yet even in our individual experiences we are unified in the body of Christ. With deep conviction we hold onto our own experience while embracing the identity and existence it gives us by uniting us with Christ and with all those baptized in Christ. The experience of knowing that the Holy Spirit claims us as God’s beloved child means we are one with each other and one part of God’s wholeness.

Being one with Christ means that we are participants in the work that Jesus did in his life and ministry as the chosen one of God, Messiah, Christ. As embodied participants, we, too are called to recognize how it is that Christ is working—and how it is that Christ wants to work in our bodies and lives.

Oscar Romero, a martyr, witness and victim of violence toward Christ’s message, wrote that,

“Some want to keep a gospel so disembodied

that it doesn’t get involved at all in the world it must save.

Christ is now in history.

Christ is in the womb of the people.

Christ is now bringing about the new heavens and the new earth.”[1]

We aren’t just spiritual participants in the body of Christ—our bodies, too, participate in that identity, just as Jesus’ body took him in and through and beyond death to participate in the purpose and mission that God offered to him. We, too, take our bodies into the work of Christ, continuing to fulfill, this day, as Christ lives in history through us, being nurtured and then born through the choices we make for justice and mercy—for righteousness and the ways that Christ is bringing about the new heavens and the new earth, embodied and not just existing in some unknown elsewhere.

It is manifestly important to develop and maintain the spiritual life necessary to life as a Christian—yet it is also integral to develop and maintain the physical or embodied life necessary to life as a Christian. As our spiritual lives go, so do our physical ones—we won’t be perfect in our embodiment. As we forget or neglect to pray, to meditate or to reflect upon scripture, we will sometimes ignore the opportunities and calls we receive to choose to respond to injustice or to ignorance or to hatred, yet that call remains valid in our bodies as much as it is in our spirits. We do not live as Christians ignorant of the physical or the embodiment of who we are—we are one being, called and chosen. We are baptized and embraced, beloved by God and sent out again to embrace and to reveal the beloved within us.

Jesus was the embodiment of the Christ, anointed one, chosen one, the one in whom God was dwelling. We are that embodiment in this time and in this place.

Though the understanding of Jesus, Son of God and Son of man, may not be the point of utmost debate within our body today—the body of Christ continues to strive and develop into the future of our faith. We continue to seek out to live faithfully what the chosen one of God has begun and continues to do in our lives and in the lives of those who are in need of justice and righteousness in their lives. Some of us may be closer to the dates of baptism than others, yet the life that began there continues in us as members of Christ’s body living still. Let us continue to strive and have faith that we are growing into the active and healthy, whole and wholly engaged body that began and begins and always will begin in that one baptism.

To the glory of one God, forever and ever. Amen.

---

[1] From The Violence of Love by Oscar Romero, copyright © 1998 Plough Publishing House.

Sermon September 12 2010 “Growing into . . .”

Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28

Psalm 14

1 Timothy 1:12-17

Luke 15:1-10

“Growing into . . .”

I’ve never been completely lost—not knowing exactly where I am—but the thought has always scared me. I can’t say the same thing about my spiritual life. Though I’ve always been a part of church, I feel like the pathway to the times in life when I have been closely connected to God hasn’t been straight forward. In my own life, I have struggled and experimented and wandered as I have sought to connect to God in a way that is genuine and true to the person that I believe God has created me to be. In my own life, I have sought redemption from other people’s ideas of who I should be, the lies that I thought were truths.

The basis of Jesus’ message, his life, death and resurrection is the need we have—and have always had—to be redeemed from slavery to sin, affliction and/or painfully lived lives. Redemption from sin may be primary the sin we commit individually—slavery to sin may also include how we are caught up in net of sin that we weave together as friends and family, even as communities and nations.

Slavery to affliction and painfully lived lives often flows out of the systems of sin in which we exist—though the complexity of those systems may be far beyond our comprehension. Diseases, illness, injuries—physical, mental and emotional can enslave us broadly and deeply due to the sin interwoven into the structure of all nations, corporations and in every human system. Families perpetuate sin, so do cultures of communities, companies and industries—all of them in particular, yet very familiar ways.

The heart of the message today is our need for growth out and away from that slavery to sin—wherever it is and wherever it comes from. All of us are sinners—and all of us have been enslaved by it in different degrees. All of us participate in the systems of sin—and all of us help to cause others pain through those systems. We need, all of us need redemption and the freedom that is brought to us in the message of the scripture.

Even the message that is brought to us through the prophet Jeremiah—not the most grace-filled text in our cannon—leaves the people of Israel with a glimmer of hope for themselves and the world in which they lived.

As God brought a word of judgment to the people, as God spoke through the prophet Jeremiah, it seems as if hope is lost.

For my people are foolish,
they do not know me;
they are stupid children,
they have no understanding.
They are skilled in doing evil,
but do not know how to do good.[1]

Jeremiah is witness to God’s utter disgust with them as he looks on in a vision.

I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void;
and to the heavens, and they had no light.
²⁴ I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking,
and all the hills moved to and fro.
²⁵ I looked, and lo, there was no one at all,
and all the birds of the air had fled.
²⁶ I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert,
and all its cities were laid in ruins
before the Lord, before his fierce anger.

27 For thus says the Lord: The whole land shall be a desolation;[2]

God is taking them down—God has decided that the whole system of the nation, Judah, Israel’s remnant, had to be dismantled. Jerusalem, the seat of government and the seat of God’s worship were to be taken away. When God steps away—the place might look the same, yet feel empty. Jeremiah’s vision saw a world of desolation when God’s hot wind of judgment came.

Yet even in all of this—in Jeremiah’s vision of desolation, waste and void, darkness, destruction, fruitful land turned to desert, God’s fierce anger—part of God’s message is that “I will not make a full end.” Desolation is not then end, even if it looks that way. Dry desert and dark skies would be terrorizing.

And God’s anger brought on by the foolishness of God’s people would be a weight of shame and guilt upon their hearts. When we are most honest with ourselves, each one of us have had to acknowledge that at times we were skilled in doing evil, but do not know how to do good. Those times when our hearts are hard and angry—we are in need of the hope that God’s anger end and that God’s love is eternal.

The scriptural thread we follow today continues through the gospel lesson’s assurance that God’s realm is for the lost. The Pharisees appear again in opposition to Jesus’ way of interacting with those in the community. They grumble at his fraternizing with the sinners. So he tells them a parable. A parable is told by Jesus to reveal the truth of God’s reign in our lives, tells us what the reality of God’s existence is about. Just like in the first testament, God’s concern was for the wanderer—the lost and the endangered. Jesus pointed out that if they had had the lost sheep, endangered by its own lack of direction, it would be sought by them because the 99 were safely in the enclosure at home.

The sheep that wandered of its own accord is brought back in great joy—even though it wandered away by choice and endangered the rest of the flock.

The Pauline message this first letter to Timothy continues to remind us through this set of scriptures of how we are redeemed by Jesus Christ from being lost, from being enslaved to sin—our own individual sin and the systems of sin that surround us. We are reminded that Paul was “formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence.” [3] In the life of Paul, we are made aware of God’s tremendous generosity and love, the grace he needed to participate in God’s growing realm. Paul’s life before he met Jesus on the Road to Damascus was one of religious fervor—but after his eyes were opened he could grow in relationship to God rather than growing in anger as he had before.

In his life, we have an example of confession—not to downplay our individual worth in the eyes of God, but to give God glory in our salvation, transformation, and growth. We are called to consider the regrets, harmful actions and shame of our past lives, calling upon Jesus for our salvation and being honest about our continuing need to be reconciling to the immortal, invisible God we worship. Imagine that you are called upon to complete Paul’s confession, “I was formerly . . .” What have you given up to the life that God has called you to live? What can you give up to grow in faith and spiritual relationship to God?

What Paul acknowledged and raised in gratitude was his own growth and transformation—celebrating the new life that was given to him. The example of Paul reminds us that his praise flowed deeply and widely from his gratitude for all that God had done raising him from a life of violence. He raises to God a joyful verse of praise, a joyful Amen or Yes of delight!

What we also learn from Paul’s life is that the depths of our sin our slavery to violence and corrupt systems are why we need God—or from the gospel we learn that we need God because we are lost and we are all lost.

We are called to grow into the life that is most genuine and connect us most truly to God. When we run from God’s path—like Paul—we are lost and confused. When we connect with God, we are connected to the one who is our home. Our connection to God means that wherever we are—we can be growing in faith and growing toward the one who wants what God has created in us.

We are surrounded by the life-giving, love-filled and glorious God drawing us toward the person God knows that we can be. In our gratitude to God’s work through Jesus, our Lord and Savior, we can lift up our whole lives in praise: in our actions, service and compassion.

We can lift Paul’s closing doxology or song of praise sharing in his gratitude—

Deep honor and bright glory
to the King of All Time—
One God, Immortal, Invisible,
ever and always. Oh, yes! And Amen.[4]

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[1] Jeremiah 4:22

[2] Jeremiah 4:24-27a

[3] 1 Timothy 1:13a

[4] 1 Timothy 1:17 The Message, Eugene Peterson.