Sermon for Sunday, September 27
Scripture: Mark 9:38-50
I remember one day in high school, when my friend Dan and I were driving out to the golf course. We were almost there when we came up behind a big truck, a pretty nice looking truck, driving slowly and kinda swerving a little. Now, it’s 11:00 am, a little too early in the day for this to be a drunk driver. But something had to be up. As we looked more closely, the driver was flailing around as he tried to drive. Something was obviously aggravating him. Finally, the truck stopped in the middle of the road, the door flung open, and the driver jumped out and flailed around some more. And what do you know? This is Matt Bianco, owner of the Bianco Baseball School. He was Dan’s private hitting instructor. So we got out and asked him what was going on. As it turned out, Matt had a bee flying around inside his shirt. So here was a man, driving a truck with airbags and other safety features, a vehicle big enough to protect him no matter what happened out there on the road, and he was driving on a windy road that people often took too fast. But the biggest threat to Matt’s safety turned out to be inside his shirt.
The story we find in the book of Esther is about perceived threats to the Persian Empire and its king, Ahasuerus, also known as Xerxes. Haman, the king’s highest official, persuades Ahasuerus that the Jews living outside the king’s walls pose a serious threat to the kingdom’s purity and integrity. So the king agrees to let Haman enact genocide against the Jews.
But as it turns out, the king’s newly chosen queen, Esther, is a Jew – although no one knows it. When Esther discovers that Haman has planned to wipe out the Jews, she brings Haman and the king together and persuades the king that Haman is a greater threat to the kingdom than the Jews that he wishes to eliminate from the empire. So Esther saves the day, as the king eliminates the threat of Haman within his walls rather than concerning himself with the threats outside his walls. Here is a man, sitting on a throne, being told by his top advisor of the need for ethnic cleansing to eliminate the dangers “out there,” and as it turns out, the biggest danger comes from the innermost circle of the king’s court.
The disciples of Jesus noticed someone outside of the established community of believers casting out demons in the name of Jesus. They were worried this unknown follower of Jesus would compromise the integrity of they the established followers of Jesus. How do we know this guy is really a follower? What will happen if we let just anyone do things “in the name of the Lord”? Isn’t it dangerous to have no control over who is and who isn’t considered part of Jesus’ community?
Jesus reminds the disciples that they themselves may pose a threat to the integrity of the community. It’s possible that even those within the established community of believers may be doing more to tear down the kingdom than those outside. After all, the outsider they tried to stop was able to cast out demons, which is something this inner circle of Jesus’ disciples weren’t even able to do. Here are disciples representing the established community of believers, fretting about the dangers outside the established boundaries. But as it turns out, the biggest threat to the kingdom of God lies within that already established community of believers.
“If any of YOU put a stumbling block before one of those little ones who believe in me,” Jesus says, “it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.” In other words, it’s possible for established members of the community to get in the way of those who seek God, and it might be best for the community if those stumbling blocks were chucked into the sea. We do ourselves no favors by ignoring the reality that there are threats to the kingdom of God within this body of Christ we call Church. Jesus continues:
If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell.
In other words, the path to God’s kingdom must be cleared of stumbling blocks, and the established community of believers has stumbling blocks living within its own boundaries. Some are hands, some feet, some eyes. And these stumbling blocks, these things doing more harm than good in the body of Christ we call Church, must be cut out.
Fred Craddock tells a story of his first pastoral appointment, in a town near Oak Ridge, Tennessee. When Oak Ridge began to boom with all the atomic energy research, that church’s little town became a booming city overnight. Every inch of open space in that area was filled with people who came from everywhere, pitching tents, setting up trailer parks, full of hard hat wearing folks from everywhere. The church wasn’t far away. It was a beautiful little white church, with a gorgeous chimney, hand-built pews, and ornate decorations on the walls. One Sunday, Craddock asked the leaders of the church to hang around after worship. He told them, “Now we need to launch a calling campaign and an invitational campaign in all these trailer parks to invite these people to church.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think they’d fit in here,” one of them said. “They’re just here temporarily, just construction people. They’ll be leaving pretty soon.”
“Well, we ought to invite them, make them feel at home,” Craddock said. They argued about it, time ran out, and they decided they’d have a vote the following Sunday. The next week, they sat down after the service, and one person said, “I move that in order to be a member of this church, you must own property in the county.” They got a second. It passed. Craddock voted against it, but was quickly reminded he was just the preacher and he didn’t have a vote anyway.
Years later, Craddock took his wife back to see the little church. It was different. The parking lot of the church was full, and there was a big sign out front: “Barbecue: All You Can Eat.” The church had become a restaurant. Craddock went inside. The pews were pushed to the side, the organ was pushed in the corner, and there were all kinds of people – families, truckers, bikers, all different kinds of people – sitting around eating barbecue. Craddock turned to his wife and said, “Good thing this is not still a church, otherwise these people couldn’t be in here.” A small congregation tucked away in East Tennessee, worried about all those outside people ruining their church, and as it turned out, the most dangerous people were the ones who ruined the church from the inside.
Sometimes, we spend so much time worrying about outside threats that we fail to see the threats from within. We worry about “those people out there” so much that we fail to see the ways we destroy the kingdom of God from “in here.” We guard ourselves against the evils “out there”: music that isn’t “Christian”, books that aren’t wholesome, movies and TV shows that possibly make our children think differently. We protect ourselves against temptations of gambling, drinking, or hanging out with the “wrong” people – those temptations that exist outside our approved, established community. Some of those “dangers” out there are real, and we do well to be cautious about them. But I fear we often make too big a deal about those dangers outside, as if these are completely to blame for what’s ruining the church.
Too many of us want to blame all the shortcomings of God’s kingdom on the evils of society. It’s the loose morals out there that are ruining the church. It’s the people out there that don’t come to church that are to blame for the church’s declining numbers. It’s the New Age-y books out there that are hurting the church. If it wasn’t for that noisy, immoral rock and roll music out there, God’s kingdom would be thriving. If we didn’t have casinos and bars out there, the church would be perfect. If those people out there let us keep the Ten Commandments outside the courthouses, and those school administrators out there had kept prayer and Creationism in schools, then there’d be no problems in the community of believers.
Surely, these things don’t help the cause of the kingdom. You can say some of them may even be real dangers from outside the boundaries of our community, dangers that do that threaten the kingdom of God. But why is it always everyone else’s fault that the church is struggling? Why is it always society’s fault if our children stumble and fall? Why is anything that hurts the kingdom of God always the fault of those people and those things “out there”?
Jesus is teaching us that if there are threats outside the established community, you can bet there are even more dangerous threats inside the established community. Perhaps we’re to blame for loose morals. Maybe some (or all) of us within the church are to blame for declining numbers – maybe we’re not being hospitable, and we’re not inviting our neighbors. Maybe in throwing out the negative aspects of popular culture, we refuse to see the good in it. Perhaps our kids’ music may make us want to scream, but it may lead them into deeper spirituality. Maybe it’s a good thing that schools won’t lead children in prayer or won’t teach them the stories of Creation, because that was never their job anyway. That’s our job.
What if we’re the ones who are the most dangerous? What if we are the biggest threat to the kingdom of God? Jesus calls us to consider placing some of the blame on ourselves rather than pointing the finger only at “those things” outside our walls. He’s calling the disciples – and us – to really evaluate whether we’re doing things “in his name” or whether we’re just stumbling blocks that would be better off drowning in the ocean. It’s a challenging question that Jesus asks us this morning, and I pray that we might have the courage to find the answer. Are the biggest threats to the kingdom of God coming from outside, or are they coming from within? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Lord of the Dance
At Annual Conference this past June, I was introduced to this:
As World Communion Sunday approaches on the liturgical calendar, I thought it was time to revisit the video. As I watched it yesterday, I couldn't help but smile. It is a tangible reminder that sometimes it's good to dance for no reason. True, some of us are worse dancers than Elaine on Seinfeld (more like a full body dry heave set to music), but that doesn't matter. So go ahead and dance. Really. It just might brighten your day.
As World Communion Sunday approaches on the liturgical calendar, I thought it was time to revisit the video. As I watched it yesterday, I couldn't help but smile. It is a tangible reminder that sometimes it's good to dance for no reason. True, some of us are worse dancers than Elaine on Seinfeld (more like a full body dry heave set to music), but that doesn't matter. So go ahead and dance. Really. It just might brighten your day.
Monday, September 21, 2009
It's All Who You Know
Sermon for Sunday, September 20, 2009
Scripture: Mark 9:30-37
On the way to Capernaum, the disciples of Jesus are having a rather interesting conversation. They are having a playful conversation about who among them is the greatest. We love this story – the disciples get caught arguing about their accomplishments by their teacher, and we point and laugh and say, “Oh, those silly disciples are at it again – what fools they are.” Because we know true followers of Jesus would never have an argument about who’s the greatest. And we know that we never fall into that trap.
I’m sure none of us are as silly as the disciples. We don’t have conversations at work about whether we’re the person that deserves the promotion. We don’t puff out our chests in pride claiming our nation to be “better” than all the others. And we’ve never argued which of one of us is the best karaoke singer, or who’s the tallest in the family, or even whether or not we’re a better ping pong player than our spouse. And surely, we don’t ever brag about how Pittsburgh is once again the “City of Champions.” No, Jesus would never catch us in arguments, playful or otherwise, about who is the greatest. Would he?
The disciples were not that much different from you and me. We make fun of Mark’s portrait of the disciples as bumbling idiots, as silly fools who are always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But placed in that same situation – going from simple, everyday fishermen to the inner circle of the Messiah – we too would probably think we’re on our way to greatness. The disciples had it made – they were climbing the corporate ladder, well on their way down the path to success, one step closer to greatness with every day they spent with Jesus. They had that natural human desire to achieve greatness, and figured it was sure to happen because they were close friends with Jesus Christ. Having such a close relationship with Jesus, a miracle worker and Son of god, definitely has created a self-righteous attitude of greatness buzzing around the disciples.
You see, the world back then was not much different than our world today. Back then, just as now, the perception is that being great is all about who you know. If you network with the right people, hang out with the right crowd, rub elbows with people who are already great, then certainly some of that greatness will extend to you by association. We may go about pursuing greatness in different ways, but we usually make sure that we know the people in power so that when the time comes, we may come into power as well. The disciples knew well that it is all about who you know, and they knew the most powerful, greatest human around. They knew the powerful Jesus Christ, the Messiah, and being around such a powerful person surely makes them powerful too.
But Jesus perceives their “power play.” He overhears their conversation about “who is the greatest,” and since Jesus never passes up a teaching moment, he pulls them aside and gives a lesson about true greatness.
“Whoever wants to be first,” Jesus says, “must be last of all and servant of all.” We’re more familiar with this “first shall be last” talk, since we see it in other places in scripture, but to the disciples, this is a new, foreign teaching. The first shall be last? What does that even mean? And again, the disciples just don’t understand. So Jesus takes a little child and holds it in his arms. He tells them, essentially, “If you really want to tap into God’s power and greatness, you’ve gotta make sure you’re hanging out with this child.”
Today, we read that verse in a very sentimental fashion. Aww, look at that, Jesus was good with kids. How cute. But don’t sentimentalize this passage. To the disciples, there is nothing adorable about Jesus spending time with a child. That’s for women to do. They spend time with the kids, while the men go out and try to improve their status in the world. The men cannot be bothered with women and children – association with them is not a worthwhile career move. Back then, children were not regarded in the same way they are now. Children were barely human – they had no status or power, so they weren’t really members of society and weren’t paid much attention to. Essentially, children were among that group of the least, little, last, and lost.
In this story, Jesus is not teaching the disciples how to be good Sunday School teachers or how to be good fathers. He’s not creating a “photo op” for the local papers. There will be no front page story with the headline, “Jesus takes time to visit local elementary school.” This is not the sentimental moment that we in modern times have built it up to be. This is a moment of Jesus caring for one who has no status or power to offer anyone. This is Jesus loving a little child for the sake of loving – not for his own gain at all. And for this reason – that he’s “wasting time” with someone who can’t help him be great and powerful – that Jesus truly becomes great and powerful.
French philosopher Charles de Montesquieu once said, “To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them.” And when I think of people that were truly great, I think of the people that stood with the powerless rather than above the powerless, just as Jesus welcomed a powerless child rather than dismissing it. I think of Martin Luther King, Jr., who had a lot of power and authority, but rather than using it for his own gain, he used it to gain the rights of others, and in doing so became truly great. I think of Mother Theresa, who could have spent her time hanging out with the big wigs at the Vatican, but instead devoted her life to the people – many of them children – who are literally living in the gutters of Calcutta, India. By hanging out with the least of these, she became truly great. And I think of Roberto Clemente, who was called “The Great One” not simply because of what he did on the field, but because of the great things he did off the field to help the poor, suffering, powerless people wherever he could. All three of these people, were they here this morning, would probably not want to hear me talking about their greatness. For they didn’t love people, they didn’t form relationships with people, in order to become great. They loved people because all people deserve love. All people, big or small, powerful or powerless, child or adult, deserve the love of Jesus Christ.
We look up to those who love the least in our world, because we know their love is genuine. We know that they love other people simply for the sake of loving, not for the sake of our own benefit. Jesus has nothing to gain by loving us, but does so anyway. And he wants us to return our love in the same way.
Imagine I come home one day with fresh flowers for my lovely wife, Lisa. I give them to her, and she smells them, and remarks at how pretty they are, and thanks me for being so thoughtful. Now I could respond in a number of ways. Here’s option #1: I could say, “Well honey, I love you, and I’m giving you these flowers because I want you to have them. They may not be quite as pretty as you are, but they’re a gift from me just because I love you.” That’s option #1. Pretty good, huh? Now, let’s look at option #2.
Option #2: She gets the flowers, she’s impressed with my thoughtfulness, and so I respond, “Well honey, I figured that I should probably get you flowers, and if I did, you might be willing to make dinner AND do the dishes tonight. So whaddya say? Let me know when dinner’s ready. After all, I did get you flowers!”
Now, which option do you think I should go with? Of course, it’s option 1. But sometimes, when it comes to our relationship with God or with others, we end up taking option 2. We go to church, we tithe faithfully, we try to help our neighbors, we donate to worthy charities, and we do so thinking that this will someday benefit us. We become preoccupied with being in relationship with others just to help ourselves. But what if someone did the same to us? What if others only looked at us in terms of how we could help them? Wouldn’t we feel used?
Jesus is feeling used by the disciples. He overhears their conversation, and perhaps he’s wondering if they’re just using him to get to God. Perhaps they just see him as a stepping stone on the way to the top, a rung on the ladder toward greatness. But in order to love him, Jesus says, we have to learn to love a child with nothing to offer. In order to be great, we have to spend time with the little people, literally and figuratively. In order to be in relationship with God, we have to love God and others genuinely, with no ulterior motives of greatness. The truly great people do not seek greatness. The truly great person is one willing to take a powerless child into his arms and care for it just because love is what we are called to do. The truly great person is one willing to love those who have zero social status, those who have no greatness of their own, but are still worthy of receiving the love of Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: Mark 9:30-37
On the way to Capernaum, the disciples of Jesus are having a rather interesting conversation. They are having a playful conversation about who among them is the greatest. We love this story – the disciples get caught arguing about their accomplishments by their teacher, and we point and laugh and say, “Oh, those silly disciples are at it again – what fools they are.” Because we know true followers of Jesus would never have an argument about who’s the greatest. And we know that we never fall into that trap.
I’m sure none of us are as silly as the disciples. We don’t have conversations at work about whether we’re the person that deserves the promotion. We don’t puff out our chests in pride claiming our nation to be “better” than all the others. And we’ve never argued which of one of us is the best karaoke singer, or who’s the tallest in the family, or even whether or not we’re a better ping pong player than our spouse. And surely, we don’t ever brag about how Pittsburgh is once again the “City of Champions.” No, Jesus would never catch us in arguments, playful or otherwise, about who is the greatest. Would he?
The disciples were not that much different from you and me. We make fun of Mark’s portrait of the disciples as bumbling idiots, as silly fools who are always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But placed in that same situation – going from simple, everyday fishermen to the inner circle of the Messiah – we too would probably think we’re on our way to greatness. The disciples had it made – they were climbing the corporate ladder, well on their way down the path to success, one step closer to greatness with every day they spent with Jesus. They had that natural human desire to achieve greatness, and figured it was sure to happen because they were close friends with Jesus Christ. Having such a close relationship with Jesus, a miracle worker and Son of god, definitely has created a self-righteous attitude of greatness buzzing around the disciples.
You see, the world back then was not much different than our world today. Back then, just as now, the perception is that being great is all about who you know. If you network with the right people, hang out with the right crowd, rub elbows with people who are already great, then certainly some of that greatness will extend to you by association. We may go about pursuing greatness in different ways, but we usually make sure that we know the people in power so that when the time comes, we may come into power as well. The disciples knew well that it is all about who you know, and they knew the most powerful, greatest human around. They knew the powerful Jesus Christ, the Messiah, and being around such a powerful person surely makes them powerful too.
But Jesus perceives their “power play.” He overhears their conversation about “who is the greatest,” and since Jesus never passes up a teaching moment, he pulls them aside and gives a lesson about true greatness.
“Whoever wants to be first,” Jesus says, “must be last of all and servant of all.” We’re more familiar with this “first shall be last” talk, since we see it in other places in scripture, but to the disciples, this is a new, foreign teaching. The first shall be last? What does that even mean? And again, the disciples just don’t understand. So Jesus takes a little child and holds it in his arms. He tells them, essentially, “If you really want to tap into God’s power and greatness, you’ve gotta make sure you’re hanging out with this child.”
Today, we read that verse in a very sentimental fashion. Aww, look at that, Jesus was good with kids. How cute. But don’t sentimentalize this passage. To the disciples, there is nothing adorable about Jesus spending time with a child. That’s for women to do. They spend time with the kids, while the men go out and try to improve their status in the world. The men cannot be bothered with women and children – association with them is not a worthwhile career move. Back then, children were not regarded in the same way they are now. Children were barely human – they had no status or power, so they weren’t really members of society and weren’t paid much attention to. Essentially, children were among that group of the least, little, last, and lost.
In this story, Jesus is not teaching the disciples how to be good Sunday School teachers or how to be good fathers. He’s not creating a “photo op” for the local papers. There will be no front page story with the headline, “Jesus takes time to visit local elementary school.” This is not the sentimental moment that we in modern times have built it up to be. This is a moment of Jesus caring for one who has no status or power to offer anyone. This is Jesus loving a little child for the sake of loving – not for his own gain at all. And for this reason – that he’s “wasting time” with someone who can’t help him be great and powerful – that Jesus truly becomes great and powerful.
French philosopher Charles de Montesquieu once said, “To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them.” And when I think of people that were truly great, I think of the people that stood with the powerless rather than above the powerless, just as Jesus welcomed a powerless child rather than dismissing it. I think of Martin Luther King, Jr., who had a lot of power and authority, but rather than using it for his own gain, he used it to gain the rights of others, and in doing so became truly great. I think of Mother Theresa, who could have spent her time hanging out with the big wigs at the Vatican, but instead devoted her life to the people – many of them children – who are literally living in the gutters of Calcutta, India. By hanging out with the least of these, she became truly great. And I think of Roberto Clemente, who was called “The Great One” not simply because of what he did on the field, but because of the great things he did off the field to help the poor, suffering, powerless people wherever he could. All three of these people, were they here this morning, would probably not want to hear me talking about their greatness. For they didn’t love people, they didn’t form relationships with people, in order to become great. They loved people because all people deserve love. All people, big or small, powerful or powerless, child or adult, deserve the love of Jesus Christ.
We look up to those who love the least in our world, because we know their love is genuine. We know that they love other people simply for the sake of loving, not for the sake of our own benefit. Jesus has nothing to gain by loving us, but does so anyway. And he wants us to return our love in the same way.
Imagine I come home one day with fresh flowers for my lovely wife, Lisa. I give them to her, and she smells them, and remarks at how pretty they are, and thanks me for being so thoughtful. Now I could respond in a number of ways. Here’s option #1: I could say, “Well honey, I love you, and I’m giving you these flowers because I want you to have them. They may not be quite as pretty as you are, but they’re a gift from me just because I love you.” That’s option #1. Pretty good, huh? Now, let’s look at option #2.
Option #2: She gets the flowers, she’s impressed with my thoughtfulness, and so I respond, “Well honey, I figured that I should probably get you flowers, and if I did, you might be willing to make dinner AND do the dishes tonight. So whaddya say? Let me know when dinner’s ready. After all, I did get you flowers!”
Now, which option do you think I should go with? Of course, it’s option 1. But sometimes, when it comes to our relationship with God or with others, we end up taking option 2. We go to church, we tithe faithfully, we try to help our neighbors, we donate to worthy charities, and we do so thinking that this will someday benefit us. We become preoccupied with being in relationship with others just to help ourselves. But what if someone did the same to us? What if others only looked at us in terms of how we could help them? Wouldn’t we feel used?
Jesus is feeling used by the disciples. He overhears their conversation, and perhaps he’s wondering if they’re just using him to get to God. Perhaps they just see him as a stepping stone on the way to the top, a rung on the ladder toward greatness. But in order to love him, Jesus says, we have to learn to love a child with nothing to offer. In order to be great, we have to spend time with the little people, literally and figuratively. In order to be in relationship with God, we have to love God and others genuinely, with no ulterior motives of greatness. The truly great people do not seek greatness. The truly great person is one willing to take a powerless child into his arms and care for it just because love is what we are called to do. The truly great person is one willing to love those who have zero social status, those who have no greatness of their own, but are still worthy of receiving the love of Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, September 14, 2009
It's Not What You Think
Sermon for Sunday, September 13, 2009
Scripture: Mark 8:27-38
Our text this morning begins with Jesus asking two questions. First: “Who do people say that I am?” And second: “Who do you say that I am?” To my knowledge, there is no other place in scripture in which Jesus is inquiring about his reputation with such curiosity. So he turns to his disciples and asks them, “What’s my reputation, guys? What are people saying about me? What’s the word on the street?”
Other people recognize that there’s something holy about Jesus. They know he’s in some sort of elite class of heroes of the faith: John the Baptist, Elijah, or perhaps one of God’s prophets. There’s something about Jesus, just as there was something about those other people, that’s special. He’s got “it”, whatever “it” is. And Peter, the spokesman for the disciples, has an idea of what the “it” factor of Jesus is. “Jesus, you are the Messiah. You are the anointed one of God. You are Christ.”
Peter may be addressing Jesus, but he’s also telling us what he knows about Jesus. “Let me tell you about my rabbi, Jesus,” Peter might say. “He is the Messiah, the anointed one of God.” And as we know, Peter is right in identifying Jesus. Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed one promised by scripture. But as it becomes clear in the next few verses, Jesus is not the Messiah that Peter – or anyone else – expected. This is a case of stereotyping the Messiah – of assuming the Messiah will be just as we imagined, when in reality that is not the case.
I must say that being a young pastor has its advantages. One such advantage is that it’s often entertaining to see people get thrown off by my age. Sometimes, when I meet new people and tell them that I’m a pastor, the first reaction is a shocked expression on their face. This is immediately followed by poor attempts to hide that expression, and then some question like, “Oh, so are you a youth pastor?” or “So, you’re an associate pastor?” as they try to figure out how someone like me can claim the title “pastor.” Don’t misunderstand, I wouldn’t have any problem being mistaken as a youth pastor or associate pastor – those are both great positions. But that’s not the type of ministry the Bishop and the Cabinet have appointed me to right now.
So what happens is that I do spend a lot of my time dispelling the unfair stereotypes surrounding pastors, explaining to people that I really am the senior pastor of a small church, no matter how ridiculous that may sound. And in a sense, this is kinda what’s happening between Peter and Jesus. Jesus says, “Yes Peter, you’re right, I am the Messiah. But being the Messiah means that I must undergo suffering, rejection, and death.” These words stop Peter in his tracks. “Wait just a minute, boss! I thought you said I was right – you ARE the Messiah! But suffering, rejection, death? That is NOT stuff that jives with my understanding of Messiah!”
And so Peter must come to grips with the fact that although Jesus is the Messiah, his conception of Messiah is totally off base. Jesus’ prediction of suffering at the hands of his enemies just doesn’t mesh with Peter’s Christology. Peter is thinking about a glorious, conquering Messiah, one to swoop in and save the day in the most magnificent way possible, with fireworks, parades, marching bands – everything on a grand and majestic stage!
But like a pastor who turns out to be young or a basketball player that turns out to be short, the Messiah is not who we expect. He is not what human terms would define him as. Rather, he is what the divine terms define him as. And the divine terms of salvation require suffering, rejection, and death of that Messiah, as difficult as it is for us to understand.
But when I read Mark’s words, it seems to me that this is more than Peter simply misunderstanding what the Messiah must be and do. You see, if Peter just misunderstands, then why is Jesus rebuking him? To rebuke someone means, quite literally, to order evil out of that person. Why is Jesus ordering the evil to leave Peter? Why is Peter’s misunderstanding of the Messiah so filled with evil?
It’s possible that Jesus saw a disciple before him that was being rather selfish. Peter was following the Messiah, and that was the Messiah who was supposed to come and save them. According to Peter, the Messiah comes for his own benefit, and the benefit of Peter and his friends. You see, Peter is thinking about how all this Messiah stuff affects Jesus and his followers. Meanwhile, Jesus isn’t even thinking about himself. Jesus didn’t come to show his own glory or power. Jesus didn’t come for himself. Despite how it might seem, God did not enter into our human world for God’s own sake.
The Messiah does not come for his own gain. No, the Messiah comes for others. And not even just Peter and the other disciples. Not even just us. Not even just the Christians. No, Jesus came for ALL the others. The Messiah comes to lose his life for the sake of others. And this leads us into the third stage of this morning’s scripture, where Jesus begins addressing not just the disciples but calls out to the crowds as well. While the identity and understanding of Jesus is being kept a secret throughout the gospel of Mark, these remarks about discipleship in verses 34-38 are meant for everyone to hear.
Peter is thinking about how the Messiah’s suffering will affect Peter. He is thinking about how following Jesus will help Peter. Basically, Peter is preoccupied with his own cause. This is what Jesus means when he rebukes him for thinking in “human terms” for the human tendency is to think always of oneself, to always protect oneself. But thinking on divine terms is thinking on selfless terms. Diving thinking is the thought of a God that sacrificed his only Son for a humanity that chose to turn from God. Divine thinking is the acceptance of suffering, rejection, and death – because that’s what MUST be done for the sake of humanity. Divine thinking is selfless and giving; human thinking is selfish and taking.
The disciples are thinking about their own situations, their own causes. In this teaching moment in the middle of a journey, Jesus is calling them to think of a cause greater than themselves. He is calling them to think of God’s cause: establishing his kingdom here on earth. Jesus’ death is a crucial part of that cause, and Jesus must also think of the cause that is greater than he.
You see, Jesus isn’t a solo artist. Jesus isn’t looking to make music all by himself. He isn’t looking for fame or recognition or the spotlight. And Jesus is not a prima donna wideout with a silly name like “Ochocinco” or “TO.” He doesn’t need to always get the ball and rack up the best stats. Jesus, the Messiah, is not focused on himself. He’s focused on the greater cause of which he is a part. He is a member of the kingdom band, fulfilling the role he needs to if good music is to be made. He’s a member of the kingdom team, completing the work he’s been sent to do so that the cause of winning it all may be fulfilled. Here we learn that Jesus has come not for his own glory, but the glory of the kingdom – a cause beyond himself and his followers.
And his message is clear: we are to do the same thing. The body of Christ has no room for solo artists or selfish wide receivers. The kingdom of God is not for people who intend only to think about what THEY can gain from it. The kingdom of God is for people who wish to be caught up in something greater than themselves. The kingdom of God is for those who are content with focusing on the lives of others more than their own lives. After all, that’s what Jesus did, and so far it’s been the single most important act in establishing God’s kingdom. Jesus lived a life for others and for a cause greater than himself, and that is the life we are called to live as well.
Some of you know that I love to travel. One of the things I love to do is visit churches when I go places. And when I’m in Europe, there’s nothing better than entering a gigantic cathedral. In Europe, they have cathedrals that will make you feel tiny. We’re talking huge vaulted ceilings, altars you can barely see from the back door, and the most ornate decorations. The feeling of walking into a grand cathedral is unmatched. Immediately, I am in awe of the magnificence of God. I am swept away by the feeling that God’s kingdom is about something much bigger than myself. It’s humbling, but awe-inspiring, to have that feeling of getting swept up in a cause that is much greater than yourself.
Friends, that is how following Jesus is meant to feel – getting caught up in something greater than ourselves. I’m sure many of you have seen the classic movie Casablanca, where Rick, the main character has the chance to be reunited with Ilsa, his ex-lover. He has a chance to escape to America with Ilsa and live happily ever after, but that act will hurt the allied cause in the war. His other option is to aid the allied cause, and give up the chance to ever see Ilsa again. As much as he loves Ilsa, Rick finally decides to let her and Victor Laszlo escape, aiding the greater cause rather than thinking only of his own desires. Rick allows himself to get wrapped up in a cause greater than himself.
Sometimes, it doesn’t take much to get caught up in a movement greater than ourselves. In fact, I think that we all seek a cause greater than ourselves, be it a community organization, a favorite sports team, or the community of faith. Sometimes we just need reminded of that – that we’re not here for ourselves. We’re not Christians for our own benefit. We’re not following Jesus so he will bless us, and we’re not following Jesus so our place in heaven is saved. No, we’re following Jesus because we want to be a part of something greater than ourselves. We’re following the Messiah so we can contribute to the kingdom of God yet to be established here on earth. One thing that helps me remember that is the covenant prayer in the Wesleyan tradition found in our hymnal. We’ve included a copy in each of your bulletins. Take it out. Read those words. Let them guide you. Let them remind you that you are not here for your own gain – you’re here for God’s gain. I’d encourage you to meditate on this prayer as you go home today. Put it somewhere that you’ll see it often. Use it as a reminder that we are not in it for ourselves. We are God’s, and we must be willing to let him put us where he will, suffer as he wills, exalted or laid low as he wills, full or empty as it helps advance his kingdom. We must yield ourselves to the cause of the kingdom.
So how about it? Are you ready to think on divine terms? Are you ready to let your life be lived for others rather than yourselves? Everything Jesus did was for the benefit of blessing others, and at the expense of his own comfort and enjoyment. The Messiah is leading; are you ready to follow? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Scripture: Mark 8:27-38
Our text this morning begins with Jesus asking two questions. First: “Who do people say that I am?” And second: “Who do you say that I am?” To my knowledge, there is no other place in scripture in which Jesus is inquiring about his reputation with such curiosity. So he turns to his disciples and asks them, “What’s my reputation, guys? What are people saying about me? What’s the word on the street?”
Other people recognize that there’s something holy about Jesus. They know he’s in some sort of elite class of heroes of the faith: John the Baptist, Elijah, or perhaps one of God’s prophets. There’s something about Jesus, just as there was something about those other people, that’s special. He’s got “it”, whatever “it” is. And Peter, the spokesman for the disciples, has an idea of what the “it” factor of Jesus is. “Jesus, you are the Messiah. You are the anointed one of God. You are Christ.”
Peter may be addressing Jesus, but he’s also telling us what he knows about Jesus. “Let me tell you about my rabbi, Jesus,” Peter might say. “He is the Messiah, the anointed one of God.” And as we know, Peter is right in identifying Jesus. Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed one promised by scripture. But as it becomes clear in the next few verses, Jesus is not the Messiah that Peter – or anyone else – expected. This is a case of stereotyping the Messiah – of assuming the Messiah will be just as we imagined, when in reality that is not the case.
I must say that being a young pastor has its advantages. One such advantage is that it’s often entertaining to see people get thrown off by my age. Sometimes, when I meet new people and tell them that I’m a pastor, the first reaction is a shocked expression on their face. This is immediately followed by poor attempts to hide that expression, and then some question like, “Oh, so are you a youth pastor?” or “So, you’re an associate pastor?” as they try to figure out how someone like me can claim the title “pastor.” Don’t misunderstand, I wouldn’t have any problem being mistaken as a youth pastor or associate pastor – those are both great positions. But that’s not the type of ministry the Bishop and the Cabinet have appointed me to right now.
So what happens is that I do spend a lot of my time dispelling the unfair stereotypes surrounding pastors, explaining to people that I really am the senior pastor of a small church, no matter how ridiculous that may sound. And in a sense, this is kinda what’s happening between Peter and Jesus. Jesus says, “Yes Peter, you’re right, I am the Messiah. But being the Messiah means that I must undergo suffering, rejection, and death.” These words stop Peter in his tracks. “Wait just a minute, boss! I thought you said I was right – you ARE the Messiah! But suffering, rejection, death? That is NOT stuff that jives with my understanding of Messiah!”
And so Peter must come to grips with the fact that although Jesus is the Messiah, his conception of Messiah is totally off base. Jesus’ prediction of suffering at the hands of his enemies just doesn’t mesh with Peter’s Christology. Peter is thinking about a glorious, conquering Messiah, one to swoop in and save the day in the most magnificent way possible, with fireworks, parades, marching bands – everything on a grand and majestic stage!
But like a pastor who turns out to be young or a basketball player that turns out to be short, the Messiah is not who we expect. He is not what human terms would define him as. Rather, he is what the divine terms define him as. And the divine terms of salvation require suffering, rejection, and death of that Messiah, as difficult as it is for us to understand.
But when I read Mark’s words, it seems to me that this is more than Peter simply misunderstanding what the Messiah must be and do. You see, if Peter just misunderstands, then why is Jesus rebuking him? To rebuke someone means, quite literally, to order evil out of that person. Why is Jesus ordering the evil to leave Peter? Why is Peter’s misunderstanding of the Messiah so filled with evil?
It’s possible that Jesus saw a disciple before him that was being rather selfish. Peter was following the Messiah, and that was the Messiah who was supposed to come and save them. According to Peter, the Messiah comes for his own benefit, and the benefit of Peter and his friends. You see, Peter is thinking about how all this Messiah stuff affects Jesus and his followers. Meanwhile, Jesus isn’t even thinking about himself. Jesus didn’t come to show his own glory or power. Jesus didn’t come for himself. Despite how it might seem, God did not enter into our human world for God’s own sake.
The Messiah does not come for his own gain. No, the Messiah comes for others. And not even just Peter and the other disciples. Not even just us. Not even just the Christians. No, Jesus came for ALL the others. The Messiah comes to lose his life for the sake of others. And this leads us into the third stage of this morning’s scripture, where Jesus begins addressing not just the disciples but calls out to the crowds as well. While the identity and understanding of Jesus is being kept a secret throughout the gospel of Mark, these remarks about discipleship in verses 34-38 are meant for everyone to hear.
Peter is thinking about how the Messiah’s suffering will affect Peter. He is thinking about how following Jesus will help Peter. Basically, Peter is preoccupied with his own cause. This is what Jesus means when he rebukes him for thinking in “human terms” for the human tendency is to think always of oneself, to always protect oneself. But thinking on divine terms is thinking on selfless terms. Diving thinking is the thought of a God that sacrificed his only Son for a humanity that chose to turn from God. Divine thinking is the acceptance of suffering, rejection, and death – because that’s what MUST be done for the sake of humanity. Divine thinking is selfless and giving; human thinking is selfish and taking.
The disciples are thinking about their own situations, their own causes. In this teaching moment in the middle of a journey, Jesus is calling them to think of a cause greater than themselves. He is calling them to think of God’s cause: establishing his kingdom here on earth. Jesus’ death is a crucial part of that cause, and Jesus must also think of the cause that is greater than he.
You see, Jesus isn’t a solo artist. Jesus isn’t looking to make music all by himself. He isn’t looking for fame or recognition or the spotlight. And Jesus is not a prima donna wideout with a silly name like “Ochocinco” or “TO.” He doesn’t need to always get the ball and rack up the best stats. Jesus, the Messiah, is not focused on himself. He’s focused on the greater cause of which he is a part. He is a member of the kingdom band, fulfilling the role he needs to if good music is to be made. He’s a member of the kingdom team, completing the work he’s been sent to do so that the cause of winning it all may be fulfilled. Here we learn that Jesus has come not for his own glory, but the glory of the kingdom – a cause beyond himself and his followers.
And his message is clear: we are to do the same thing. The body of Christ has no room for solo artists or selfish wide receivers. The kingdom of God is not for people who intend only to think about what THEY can gain from it. The kingdom of God is for people who wish to be caught up in something greater than themselves. The kingdom of God is for those who are content with focusing on the lives of others more than their own lives. After all, that’s what Jesus did, and so far it’s been the single most important act in establishing God’s kingdom. Jesus lived a life for others and for a cause greater than himself, and that is the life we are called to live as well.
Some of you know that I love to travel. One of the things I love to do is visit churches when I go places. And when I’m in Europe, there’s nothing better than entering a gigantic cathedral. In Europe, they have cathedrals that will make you feel tiny. We’re talking huge vaulted ceilings, altars you can barely see from the back door, and the most ornate decorations. The feeling of walking into a grand cathedral is unmatched. Immediately, I am in awe of the magnificence of God. I am swept away by the feeling that God’s kingdom is about something much bigger than myself. It’s humbling, but awe-inspiring, to have that feeling of getting swept up in a cause that is much greater than yourself.
Friends, that is how following Jesus is meant to feel – getting caught up in something greater than ourselves. I’m sure many of you have seen the classic movie Casablanca, where Rick, the main character has the chance to be reunited with Ilsa, his ex-lover. He has a chance to escape to America with Ilsa and live happily ever after, but that act will hurt the allied cause in the war. His other option is to aid the allied cause, and give up the chance to ever see Ilsa again. As much as he loves Ilsa, Rick finally decides to let her and Victor Laszlo escape, aiding the greater cause rather than thinking only of his own desires. Rick allows himself to get wrapped up in a cause greater than himself.
Sometimes, it doesn’t take much to get caught up in a movement greater than ourselves. In fact, I think that we all seek a cause greater than ourselves, be it a community organization, a favorite sports team, or the community of faith. Sometimes we just need reminded of that – that we’re not here for ourselves. We’re not Christians for our own benefit. We’re not following Jesus so he will bless us, and we’re not following Jesus so our place in heaven is saved. No, we’re following Jesus because we want to be a part of something greater than ourselves. We’re following the Messiah so we can contribute to the kingdom of God yet to be established here on earth. One thing that helps me remember that is the covenant prayer in the Wesleyan tradition found in our hymnal. We’ve included a copy in each of your bulletins. Take it out. Read those words. Let them guide you. Let them remind you that you are not here for your own gain – you’re here for God’s gain. I’d encourage you to meditate on this prayer as you go home today. Put it somewhere that you’ll see it often. Use it as a reminder that we are not in it for ourselves. We are God’s, and we must be willing to let him put us where he will, suffer as he wills, exalted or laid low as he wills, full or empty as it helps advance his kingdom. We must yield ourselves to the cause of the kingdom.
So how about it? Are you ready to think on divine terms? Are you ready to let your life be lived for others rather than yourselves? Everything Jesus did was for the benefit of blessing others, and at the expense of his own comfort and enjoyment. The Messiah is leading; are you ready to follow? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Here We Go
In about 2 hours, the Steelers and Titans will kick off the NFL season. This game will probably be more of a grind-it-out battle than last year, and I refuse to buy into the popular notion around here that the Steelers will easily take this game. Sure, we have a slight edge because it's in our raucous house, we've won 7 straight openers, and we did win the Super Bowl 7 months ago. But the Titans are a tough team -- perhaps the toughest we'll face all year.
At the request of my wife, I've set up a 2nd TV in our living room so we can watch the Georgia Tech - Clemson game. We've put out all our Steeler decorations and watched the Super Bowl XL and XLIII DVDs. I've been listening to DVE's pregame coverage for an hour already. I'm about to start making my homemade pizza.
Welcome back, Steeler football. I've missed you.
At the request of my wife, I've set up a 2nd TV in our living room so we can watch the Georgia Tech - Clemson game. We've put out all our Steeler decorations and watched the Super Bowl XL and XLIII DVDs. I've been listening to DVE's pregame coverage for an hour already. I'm about to start making my homemade pizza.
Welcome back, Steeler football. I've missed you.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ignominy
It's official.
We've known at least a few years that this day was coming, and I've long since accepted it, so I can't say it hurts. I do agree with my favorite Pirates blog, "WHYGAVS?", that it's sad the current front office and players will suffer ridicule for the errors of many incompetent predecessors. But it still stinks.
But there is hope. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I can finally see it. They probably won't be out of the dark until 2011 or 2012, but at least now we know they're on the way out. Until then, they'll probably extend this record another year or two, but no one can ever accuse me of giving up on this team. I'm in it until they win it, no matter how long it takes.
These shameful 2 decades are going to make it so much sweeter when they finally turn it around. Until then, we'll have to settle for watching the Steelers and Penguins rack up championships.
We've known at least a few years that this day was coming, and I've long since accepted it, so I can't say it hurts. I do agree with my favorite Pirates blog, "WHYGAVS?", that it's sad the current front office and players will suffer ridicule for the errors of many incompetent predecessors. But it still stinks.
But there is hope. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I can finally see it. They probably won't be out of the dark until 2011 or 2012, but at least now we know they're on the way out. Until then, they'll probably extend this record another year or two, but no one can ever accuse me of giving up on this team. I'm in it until they win it, no matter how long it takes.
These shameful 2 decades are going to make it so much sweeter when they finally turn it around. Until then, we'll have to settle for watching the Steelers and Penguins rack up championships.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
THIS MEANS WAR!!!
Last night, several of us from the church went to help out again at the Hunger Garden. It's a garden run completely on donations and volunteer labor, with all the produce (over 26,000 lb as of last week) going to our county's food bank. Last night, as everyone else was getting ready to leave, 2 enthusiastic young men were sprinting through the field trying to pick as much produce as they could before the sun went down. At one point, one of them yelled out, "We're going to win the war between people and hunger!!!"
This child, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, gets it. He understands that hunger can be conquered. We say we're fighting hunger, but usually we're realistic about it -- it will always exist, we say. But I think this boy really believes we can win the war. He really believes hunger can be stamped out, eliminated, conquered, killed, completely obliterated, however you want to say it. That, my friends, is the faith of a child. No wonder Jesus keeps looking at children as a model for faith. Children still believe in the things that we should never have given up on, like winning the war between people and hunger. I wish I could be more like that boy.
This child, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, gets it. He understands that hunger can be conquered. We say we're fighting hunger, but usually we're realistic about it -- it will always exist, we say. But I think this boy really believes we can win the war. He really believes hunger can be stamped out, eliminated, conquered, killed, completely obliterated, however you want to say it. That, my friends, is the faith of a child. No wonder Jesus keeps looking at children as a model for faith. Children still believe in the things that we should never have given up on, like winning the war between people and hunger. I wish I could be more like that boy.
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