Define Neighbor

Say you lived next to Burt and Tillie.  One day Burt and Tillie’s house is struck by lightning and it burns to the ground.  You look out your window at the destruction and, as you look to what used to be the back porch you see them. Burt, Tillie and their cat.  They are wrapped in a blanket to keep warm from the cold penetrating their pajamas. You see that they, Burt and Tillie, not the cat, have slippers on.  They look stunned. They aren’t so much weeping as just in shock.

So you wander over to the neighbor’s house and you try to think of what to say.  What are you thinking? You have known Burt and Tillie for a long time. You know them as good, hard-working people who take care of their house and family. So, are you thinking, “I wonder why God punished them with a lightning bolt?”  Are you thinking, “I am sorry it happened to you, but better you than me?”  Are you thinking, “Do you think insurance will pay for this? What is an ‘act of God’ anyway?”  What you finally settle on to say is, “How can I help?”  They answer that they don’t know where to begin; they lost everything in the fire. But, they tell you, they are happy they got out of the fire alive.  You nod in agreement that escaping death by such a means is one good take-away.

You stand there a while longer, staring at the destruction, shivering with them.  You’ve asked how you can help but they haven’t come up with an answer. You realize you have a full day of activities planned. So, you say, “Well, I am really sorry for all of this. I can’t imagine what it must be like. But, like I say, if I can help, let me know.” And you walk away.

You get home, turn on the television and see the film footage of the fire. Turns out your neighbors have made the news.  Someone has started a relief fund for Burt and Tillie to help them get back on their feet.  Money is starting to come in, they say, from people all over the viewing area.  “Well,”, you think, “now they will be taken care of. That makes me feel better! They’re going to be fine.  I sure am glad I told them how sorry I was for their loss, and I even offered to help. That’s what a neighbor is for, right?”

"And in the End..."

I wonder if Paul McCartney got it right.  “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”  The couplet, which finished off the Abbey Road album, is often misquoted, or mis-remembered with the version remembered by John Lennon, like this: “and in the end, the love you get is equal to the love you give.” Is love something you take, or is it something you get? Is love something you make, or is it something you give?

In a few hours I will deliver a memorial sermon as I try to help family and friends understand what to make of the life of my friend, Albert.  I have spent these last days remembering my times with Al as we talked about politics and sports and theology and living and, most to the point, dying. Al has been dying for the better part of two years, suffering from a diagnosis which he and I knew was terminal.  Yet he fought. Hard.  He didn’t fear death. He didn’t welcome the thought of dying, but he didn’t fear death. He believed with the apostle Paul that to die is “gain.” What lies ahead is better than what we leave behind. But, he fought hard to hold onto life as long as he could because of his love for is dear wife of over 50 years.  On his 50^th anniversary he knelt before her and asked his children rhetorically, “Isn’t she just as beautiful as the day I married her?”, which he followed with a spirited version of “I Love You Truly.”  He fought hard to be with his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren for as long as he could because he loved them and he knew they didn’t want to lose their dear “Papa.”  The love you make; the love you give:  it comes back to you.  Al lived in the knowledge that God loved him and preserved him, so the only question for Al was this: “How then shall I live?” His answer was to serve rather than to be served; to serve grace and mercy and love.

But, now it is in the end.  Sort of.  Al and I talked a great deal about what heaven will be like. We agreed that we had no concrete idea. But, Al concluded after having lots of time to think about “next”, “God has been good to me in all my life, so why doubt that whatever is next, that it won’t be perfect.”  In the midst of his dying in pain that the medication could only mask, his faith sang, like Job, “I know that my redeemer lives…in my flesh I shall see God.” That vision, that song, sustained him during the long nights while he still saw only dimly.  It sustains me this morning. 

My friend wasn’t perfect. Who is?  Certainly not me.  And that is his point. In the end, the love we get, the love of Jesus, is greater than the love we give.  It is a love we take alright, like we get a gift we didn’t deserve, but, if we are humble enough, we take the gift anyway.  And in the End, the love we take is much more than equal to any love we can “make”, that is, offer to God or our neighbor.  The good news is that God doesn’t keep score.  In the end, that is what my friend, my mentor, taught me as he died. Don’t fret over the details of religion and politics and “whatever.” Focus on this: God is love. Jesus loves me. And in the end, that is better than any song any human, even Paul McCartney, could write.  It is a song that was written long before the Beatles.

Al, I am still singing it. Thank you, my dear brother.

God's Cheerleaders

I was thinking about cheerleaders.  Leaders of cheers.  Which implies that there is something to cheer about, that there is someone to be cheered on, and that there is an audience who would cheer more effectively if only they had someone to lead them.  When I was in high school, now more than forty years ago (ouch!), cheerleaders were a well-recognized, small and somewhat exclusive group of girls. Some of them knew that and acted accordingly. Some of them just were really enthusiastic and genuinely liked to rally the team and lead the cheering crowd.  Cheerleading has undergone quite a transformation in the last forty years.  It is now a televised team sport.  Many girls who would have been cheerleaders are now the athletes for whom others cheer.  And now there are girls and boys who lead cheers, performing complex acrobatic feats.  So, I was thinking, what in the world would make cheerleaders controversial enough to make the national news.  And then, there it was, a story that comes straight from the home of Friday Night Football in Texas.  Texas, where God, high school football and cheering all go together as naturally as Sunday morning praise choruses anywhere else.

The cheerleaders of Kountze High School hand painted some banners that quoted the Bible, proclaiming, for example, “If God is for us who can be against us”.  Some of the banners are called “run-throughs”, because, oddly enough, the team runs through them as they enter the field to, you guessed it, loud cheers.  Setting aside the question of whether Paul ever envisioned that his Spirit-inspired words would be used to encourage high school football players to try harder, this seems to be an innocent event. Unless of course the Freedom From Religion Foundation gets wind of this activity, which it does. The FFRF folks then demand the banners which quote God must stop since this is government activity. The school, fearful of an expensive lawsuit, directs the cheerleaders to stop using the banners. The Kountze cheerleaders go to court and draw a judge up for re-election. And, before you can say “Go Team” the judge decides that the banners are the free speech of the cheerleaders  who made them, not the public school.

Which all reminds me of the time Jesus was entering town and the local cheerleaders were shouting cheers and waving branches. The authorities were offended and told Jesus to tell the crowd to stop cheering for him, to which Jesus replied, “I tell you, if they keep quiet the rocks will cry out”, invoking the prophecy of Habakkuk, who goes on to say that the “The earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters covers the seas.”  God’s Cheerleaders. Everywhere. Just try to stop them. 

Can These Bones Live?

I had planned for this Sunday, Dec. 13, to be the height of our Advent worship, on this penultimate Advent Sunday. My goal this season was to emphasize the ways we wait and the way we are prophets, drawing on images from the song "These Are the Days of Elijah." I arrived in my study on Saturday morning to write the sermon that I had planned for months. I arrived to a room full of people wrapping gifts for children of poor families in our community. Another group was working hard on planning the distribution of poinsettia plants for our shut-ins. I was trying to be an encourager to the many people hard at work, but my sermon writing kept getting pushed back. While the clock was ticking, I was not worried that there would be enough time to finish this message that I thought the Spirit had given me for the third Sunday in Advent.

I had just sent off the last of the poinsettia crew with a warning that one of our members was nearing death, so they may not be able to get into his room with the plant. Just after they left another member came into my study to tell me that this parishioner and friend had died earlier in the morning. No plant would be needed this day in his room. After the bearer of the news left I tried to start writing my message. But, instead, I was surprised to find myself reduced to a time of weeping, as I grieved the loss of this saint. This, the third death in our congregation in six weeks, was not unexpected. My emotion was unexpected. I think I am at the beginning of understanding what it means to pastor a pilgrim community.

I started to write again on the prophecy of Ezekiel 37: 1-14. The phone rang and it was another elderly congregant living in a nursing home who thought he was calling his wife. He wasn't sure what day it was, so I told him, and we chatted. As I returned to my computer to start writing, the poinsettia crew returned with the "extra" plant. What should they do with it, they wondered, now that this brother had died? We talked, and I called another member who had recently suffered a stroke and was now confined to her home. Would she like a plant, I inquired. We talked about the life of a stroke victim. She wasn't a shut in just yet, she told me. So, I took the poinsettia and placed it in the sanctuary for a reminder of our departed brother in Sunday's worship.

It was then I remembered I needed to write a prayer and interview for a young man leaving for active duty this week. I wanted to talk and pray with him during worship. So, I gave up on writing the sermon. I went home to shovel snow and put down salt in the driveway so the people coming to our open house tomorrow could walk safely to our door.

Finally, this afternoon, I sat down to write my message. Craddock's book, "Preaching", makes the point that the power of a sermon is found as it connects with the congregation which will hear it. The recent book, "This Odd and Wonderous Calling", makes many similar points about the uncertainty and joy, an odd and wonderous mix, found in serving a faith community. "These are the days of Ezekiel." The title of the sermon I had planned to write is still the same. The substance? Well, it is an entirely different message than the one I had carefully constructed in my head and planned to write when I awoke today.

There is no doubt in my mind, as I contemplate delivering the prophetic word on Sunday, that the message now in my computer memory is much better than the one I had planned. It may not be one that would get an "A" in any preaching class. But, it is the one that our congregation needs to hear, or at least that is what I think the Spirit is telling me tonight.

The word of Hope is found in wrapping gifts for poor children; in delivering poinsettia plants to the lonely; in comforting a confused man and a stroke victim; in assuring a family that, yes, the drying bones of their father, these bones can live.

Advent Hope. It is found in the simplest acts; in the most profound and simple acts of being the presence of the Christ who promised He would come again. God keeps giving Hope in the valley full of dry bones. God keeps putting flesh on the bones, restoring communities and soothing broken hearts.

Odd? Indeed. Wonderous? Certainly. Prophesy to the bones. Wait for the sound of the rattling. God is moving. Still.

Why I Do This Work

This week I preached on Elijah's contest with the prophets of Baal (I Kings 18). As I was preparing the message the text kept taking me back to the critical idea that God's goal for us is to know God as the One and Only. God is offended by syncretism, the merging of competing ideas. The origin of syncretism goes back to the Cretans, and it is a good word study to do. But, the point is simple. God made it in his list of essential rules for grateful living: Have no other gods but the LORD. Make no idols to false gods. How hard can that be?





Well, it is pretty clear that this was a major problem for the people of Israel. They just kept doing what God explicitly told them not to do. I don't see a lot of idols around today, but I see plenty of evidence of syncretism. Is there any reason to think that God is less offended by such acts today than God was when Elijah was at work?





I had written a line that seemed right when I wrote it. But then, I was worried about saying it on such an upbeat day as Advent I. I got almost through the whole message, but then I left my notes and let the Spirit take over. Here is how I concluded the message:





"If this Jesus, who came to us as an infant and who is coming again, if this Jesus is just one of several options for knowing God, then I quit. This is not what I signed up for. If Jesus is just one of several good options for eternal joy, then I quit. That's not the message of Elijah, nor is it my message. "These are the days of Elijah." That is our theme this Advent. We are the prophets telling forth the message that the LORD, the LORD is God. The One. The Only. The All-Sufficient."





That's the God I am preparing the way for this Advent season, in expectant prayer that God will send the Son again, now and not yet, to invade this world and our hearts.





Elijah's question to the people hit me hard: "How long will you dance between two masters? Either serve the LORD, or serve the gods of this world." If the manger has meaning; if the Cross served any purpose; then the LORD must be hailed as the One who deserves my loyalty.





That is not popular speech in these days of relativism...which is really just a new word for syncretism. I think the choice is clear and real. I choose the God of the Water and the Fire.

Announcing the Kingdom as Preacher and Pastor

I recently was scheduled to preach on Mark 10:13-16, the story of Jesus demanding that the disciples let the "little children" be brought to him so he could bless them with his touch of love. The setting for this sermon was a baptism celebration, my first as pastor of Hope. I was focused and ready on the Saturday before, so I took some time to do some pastoral visits. My first visit took me to an assisted living facility, where an elderly couple from our congregation resides. One of their concerns was that we don't have a system for getting them an audio version of each week's message. (While we do have an audio link on the church website, that isn't practical for this couple. So, there is a ministry idea for us to pursue.)
Anyway, I offered to read the scripture and to give them a Reader's Digest version of the sermon. I wasn't sure how this would go, given that the couple was quite elderly and the message was about parents and children. But, I made the offer, they accepted, so I started. As I read the Scripture I was overwhelmed by the Spirit's presence. The passage took on a whole new meaning for all three of us. As I tried my best to read through my emotions the words took on a life of their own. I talked about how Jesus was trying to teach us that people who are entirely dependent on others, like little children, have the right attitude for receiving the Kingdom. Looking this now dependent elderly couple, we all sensed the new application of this idea. The second point Jesus made is that we need to receive the gift without question...like a child receives a gift. For this long-time faith-filled couple, they receive the gift of Christ's grace freely and without question. It is just a part of their lives.
This couple...they were a living example of people who received the Kingdom like children, and even on this day they received the "now" of the Kingdom of Christ. When I was finished speaking we all sat silently, soaking in the reality of their condition, and the joy of their knowing themselves as children of the King.
From there I went to a nursing home to visit with a person in the last stages of life. It wasn't possible for us to say much to each other, so I just reached out my hand and placed it on this person's forehead. I announced the Numbers 6 Benediction, placing a touch and blessing on this child of God.
I entered this role as Hope's pastor thinking that delivering sermons would be the best part of ministry. I am now thinking that is only half right. Pastoral care...being with people who need the touch of Jesus...this is the ministry of Christ at its best.
I wouldn't give up either role...preacher and pastor. They inform each other and each task is richer when they are lived together.

The Joy of Vocation

Labor Day Weekend 2009
When I was young I wondered, but not too much, about why a Monday "off" was called Labor Day. When I was in politics, and being a Democrat who had a heart for "laborers", I learned full well the history and significance of this holiday. Now, as a minister of the Word I am faced with the challenge of bringing theological significance to a strictly secular holiday. I think it is an important day, but how to connect this day with the church calendar?

What I was led to this year is a restatement of our understanding of "work" in the Reformed theological tradition. "Work" was taught by Calvin to be understood as the ordained duty of each person...a calling from God to "vocation." Vocation is not to be understood as only the work of the clergy or professional ministry (although it is certainly inclusive of our work), but it to be much more broadly understood as the work of all "lawful" occupations. (Spurgeon).

How do we redeem the idea of "work" for ourselves this weekend? Frederick Buechner directs our attention to the place where our greatest joy interesects with the world's greatest need. Others suggest that our call is found at the place where our spiritual gifts meet our happiness or joy in using them. So, perhaps we can think of a three way intersection as the picture where our understanding of God's call to us is found. God's call is certainly first that we love God and to seek to know God and be God's loved child. But, secondarily, we are to find a way to join Jesus Christ's work of inaugurating the Kingdom (Os Guinness, "The Call.")

Down one lane we seek to find our greatest joy: serving God...being the presence of Christ to the searching children of God. Down a second lane we see how God has given us gifts to serve in the Kingdom. Down a third lane we discover the world's greatest need. When we get in the middle of that three-way intersection we are in the place God has called us; we have found our true vocation.

This vocation may be at our "day job"...the job at which we earn our bread and shelter. And certainly God calls us to work at these jobs in a way which glorifies God. But our vocation may be found in volunteer work...or in a "hidden life" (Nouwen, "Bread for the Journey"), of solitary service.

We will gain a glimpse of the happiness toward which our future hope compels us when we find out true vocation. It may not be anything great or any act which will transform the world. It may touch only one other life...or perhaps it will transform only our solitary relationship with the God who calls us. As one writer puts it, when it comes to work, God is likely more concerned about quality than quantity.

So, off we go, looking for that special intersection. But be careful when you enter that intersection for you are likely to meet the Holy Spirit head on...and you will never be the same.