4-25-2010 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

TICKLE ME ELMO

   A couple of weeks ago my wife and I were walking the dog at Woodcock Dam.  She told me a story about an interview she saw on T.V. with Ted Neeley.  Ted Neeley, of course, played Jesus in the 1971 blockbuster movie Jesus Christ Superstar.  He recently reprised that role at the Warner Theater in Erie and was later interviewed by a T.V. news reporter.  The reporter asked, “Does Jesus Christ Superstar still resonate with audiences today?”  Neeley replied, “Absolutely.  People today are very interested in things like Jesus and the Bible.  And they want to hear it at a Sesame Street level.  Thus, Jesus Christ Superstar is still quite popular today.”

   “People today,” Neeley said, “are very interested in things like Jesus and the Bible.  And they want to hear it at a Sesame Street level.”  That statement seems to coincide with what research on religion in the post-modern era says.  We are in an era that some experts call the post-modern era.  Typical to the post-modern era are things like a lack of respect for authority, the crumbling of once-noble institutions, and the notion that all truth is relative.  In this era of confusion and relativity, what do people want from their faith?  They want black and white answers.  They want something in their lives they feel they can control.  They want absolute certainty in what they perceive to be a treacherous and confusing and unstable world.  In other words, people  want the gospel at a Sesame Street level.

     I remember a friend of mine in a previous church insinuating just such a thing to me.  He said, “We need to hear sermons that are practical…that give us specific instruction.  For example, you should do a sermon some time on how often people should come to church.”  I said, “That’s easy.  You should come to church every Sunday.”  He said, “No, you need to be more practical than that.  Maybe you should say that people can still be good Christians if they come to church, say, once every other week.”  Ah, my friend wanted to hear the gospel at a Sesame Street level, but he didn’t want to be told anything with which he did not agree.  He wanted a simplistic gospel, but he was only willing to hear what he wanted to hear.

   It appears as though the very same thing was happening in the passage we read from the gospel according to John.  It seems the religious leaders to whom Jesus was speaking wanted him to tell them a Sesame Street gospel that entailed only what they wanted to hear.  The time in our passage was the festival of the Dedication, perhaps better known to us as Hanukkah.  It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the Temple in Jerusalem.  There he was confronted by some of the leaders of the faith.  “How long,” they demanded, “will you keep us in suspense?  If you are    the Messiah, tell us plainly.”  Like I said, they wanted him to speak a Sesame Street gospel.  Is it possible, however, that they were only willing to hear what they wanted to hear as well?

   Before we get to Jesus’ answer, perhaps we should take a moment to consider just exactly what those religious leaders expected the Messiah to be.  There were actually two schools of thought about the Messiah.  One was that no one would know from where the Messiah came.  The other was that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem.  It’s important to note that these leaders of the faith thought they knew from where Jesus came.  They thought he came from Nazareth.  But where was Jesus really born?  You remember the line from the second chapter of Luke, do you not?  “A decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled.”  That ancient Roman census brought Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem, where Jesus was actually born.  But you see, the scribes and the Pharisees did not know that at the time. 

   In any case, a lot of people believed that no one would know from where the Messiah came.  The official position of the Sanhedrin – the decision-making entity of the Jewish faith – was   that the Messiah would come from Bethlehem.  Since the people knew, or thought they knew, where Jesus was from, he did not qualify as the Messiah from one group.  And since they thought he was from Nazareth, he failed to qualify as Messiah with the other group as well.

     What kind of a Messiah were they expecting?  They likely expected a Messiah who would perform miracles, as Jesus did.  Yet they also expected a Messiah who would restore Israel to   its former place of prominence as a world power.  In other words, they sought a Messiah who would squash and expel the hated Romans.  They were likely looking, at this point in time, for the political Messiah of their dreams. 

    Yet what kinds of things did Jesus say?  A line from the Sermon on the Mount comes to mind.  There Jesus said, “You have heard it said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”  Somehow, Jesus just didn’t fit their job description for a Messiah.  They wanted their gospel at a Sesame Street level and they were only willing to hear what they wanted to hear.  So they said to him, “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”

     Jesus answered them very plainly.  He said to them, “I have told you, but you do not believe.  The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep.  My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

   Who, exactly, are these sheep to whom Jesus referred?  The sheep to whom Jesus referred, in those days, were the disciples and others who followed him.  The sheep today…are us.  Now sheep are not overly bright animals.  Thus, to refer to ourselves as sheep necessarily implies a bit of humility, wouldn’t you say?  Sheep have a herd mentality.  If one sheep heads a particular way, the other sheep are going to follow.  One sheep could actually lead a whole flock of sheep off a cliff.  That’s why sheep have shepherds.  The shepherd loves the sheep and leads them only to places that are safe.  But the sheep have to hear the shepherd’s voice and heed it.  They cannot go off willy-nilly on their own.

     For example, imagine a sheep that sees a green pasture off in the distance near the woods.  The sheep is hungry and wants to eat the grass, so that’s exactly where he heads.  Yet the shepherd prevents the sheep from going to that pasture.  Why?  He knows there are wolves in those woods.  The shepherd knows what’s best for the sheep, even if the sheep don’t realize it at the time.

     Now suppose that you’re a married man or a married woman.  You see an attractive member of the opposite sex – or these days, it might even be an attractive member of the same sex!  God forbid that I not be politically correct!  Like the sheep that wants to go off to greener pastures, you sense an overwhelming urge to pursue that other person.  The shepherd knows there are wolves in the woods.  The shepherd knows that if we pursue that person, we will devastate our spouses and our children, not to mention countless other people as well.  Perhaps we could even go so far as to say that our level of commitment to our relationship with our spouses reflects our level of commitment to our relationship with God.  Let me repeat that.  Perhaps we could even go so far as to say that our level of commitment to our relationship with our spouses reflects our level of commitment to our relationship with God. 

     A Christian hears the shepherd’s voice and heeds the Good Shepherd.  But some don’t hear that voice, do they?  Some head for what they think are greener pastures anyway.  They ignore the voice of the Good Shepherd and then find themselves wondering what went wrong.

     Freedom of choice aside, we must be humble enough to admit that we don’t always know what’s best for us.  And we must be faithful enough to trust in the fact that the Good Shepherd does.  We must first hear his voice, and then we must be willing to heed it as well…even when it’s not what we want to hear.

     The religious leaders to whom Jesus spoke did not hear what they wanted to hear.  They had asked him to tell them plainly if he was the Messiah or if he was not.  Jesus spoke of the works that he had done.  Jesus clearly indicated that he was not the political Messiah they envisioned.  Then Jesus concluded their conversation by saying, “I and the Father are one.”  In other words, what we know to be true of Jesus we know to be true of God for Jesus Christ is the revelation of God himself.  At that, they picked up rocks as if to stone him.  It was a good conversation gone bad.

     Sometimes Jesus just doesn’t tell us what we want to hear.  Instead, Jesus tells us what we need to hear.  Ladies and gentlemen, there is a difference.  Our desire to hear a Sesame Street gospel aside, sometimes things are not all black and white.  Sometimes we have to hear things we just don’t want to hear.  And for some strange reason, that’s what God calls preachers to do.  He calls us to sometimes say the things that no one wants to hear.  So, here goes…

   Ladies and gentlemen, I fear for the Church.  I love the Church with a passion that defies description.  But sometimes I feel like I’m a dying breed.  Where is the zeal for Christianity these days?  Where is the love for the Church anymore?  Whatever happened to evangelistic ardor?  Back in the 1950s, the principal means of evangelism was simply opening up the doors.  All the Church had to do was open up the doors and people flocked to the Church in droves.  Ladies and gentlemen, it’s not the 1950s anymore. 

     Years ago we had “blue laws” that seemed to aid our cause.  Incidentally, do you know why they were called “blue laws?”  Mainline Protestant churches collaborated in communities across the nation to pass and enforce laws that kept people from working on Sundays.  They conceded that cows needed milking, but factories didn’t have to operate.  Doctors could deliver babies, but mail did not have to be delivered.  Connecticut, a bastion of Protestant strength a number of generations ago, passed a set of model laws for Sabbath observance.  They printed it on blue paper.  When the law was copied elsewhere, the “blue laws” received their name.

     The blue laws included laws for Sabbath observance, but they included a few other things as well.  Let me share with you some of the blue laws that were once enforced in this country:

·         No one shall travel, cook, make beds, sweep house, cut hair, or shave on the Sabbath Day.  (That kind of law would keep the Sabbath holy, don’t you think?)

 

·         No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath Day.  (I’m not exactly sure what the point of that law was.  And how did they enforce it?)

 

·         Every rateable person, who refuses to pay his proportion to the support of the minister of the town, shall be fined by the court…until he or she pays the rate to the minister.  (Actually, I think that sounds like a really good law!)

 

·         Fornication shall be punished by compelling the marriage, or as the court may think proper.  Adultery shall be punished by death.  (My, how things have changed!)

 

·         A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband.  (I’m not really sure what that means.)

 

·         Married persons must live together, or be imprisoned.  (Some might say that’s one and the same.  I wouldn’t say that, but some people might.)

 

·         Every male shall have his hair cut round according to a cap.  (I think we call that a “bowl cut” these days, don’t we?)

 

·         And last but not least, no man shall court a maid in person, or by letter, without first obtaining consent of her father.  (I think that sounds like a really good law, too.)

     Those are some of what we call the blue laws.  Obviously they didn’t work, or we’d still   have them.  My point is this.  We once had laws – blue laws – that seemed to encourage worship attendance.  We no longer have such laws.  No one is under compulsion to worship God any more.  It is done out of their own free will.  But if all we do is complain about how loud the music is, or how we just don’t agree with the sermons sometimes, or how boring worship is, who’s going to choose it?  Complaining can quickly become a cancer in a church.  Attitude        is everything.  Where is the zeal for Christianity these days?  Where is the love for the church anymore?  Whatever happened to evangelistic ardor?  I mean, don’t we believe that Christianity has something significant to say to our world today?  Don’t we believe that our faith could truly make a difference in our community and beyond?

     Since I was already on a Sesame Street train of thought this week, that got me to thinking about Tickle Me Elmo.  Tickle Me Elmo was introduced to the public in 1996, becoming that year’s top fad.  It was produced by Tyco Toys.  At first, Tyco did not have the rights to make Sesame Street toys, but they had the rights to make Looney Tunes toys.  Yet somehow, the Tickle Me Tazmanian Devil failed to catch on.  When they got the rights to Sesame Street     toys, Tickle Me Elmo was born.  And so was what was called “Elmo-mania.”     

     A Wal-Mart clerk named Robert Waller was among those injured by Elmo-mania.  During a midnight madness sale, a crowd of 300 stampeded down the aisle after seeing him being handed a box of the toys by another employee.  Waller was pulled under, trampled, and the crotch was somehow yanked out of his brand-new blue jeans.  He suffered a pulled hamstring, injuries to his back, jaw and knee, a broken rib, and a concussion. 

     If people can muster such zeal for a Tickle Me Elmo, why can’t they muster a little zeal for the Christian faith?  Why can’t they stir up a little evangelistic ardor for the church?  After all, the church has something a little more important to say than Tickle Me Elmo does.  Amen.

 

      

      

 

            

                         

 

4-18-2010 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THE REST OF THE STORY

 

     My name is Simon Peter.  I was a guest in this church on Maundy Thursday.  I told you about how Jesus called me, the miracles I saw him perform, and what he taught as we celebrated our last supper with him.  Then a couple of people from this congregation told me that they wanted to hear the rest of the story.  That’s why I’m here today.  I’m here to tell you the rest of the story.

     Allow me to briefly recap what I said on Maundy Thursday for the sake of those who were not here.  I was a fisherman by trade, and I’d been fishing all night long with my brother Andrew and we hadn’t caught a thing.  Then this man on the shoreline said, “Cast your nets on the other side of the boat for a catch.”  We thought he was crazy, but we did as we were told.  We caught more fish that day than we had ever caught before.  I knew there was something special about this man called Jesus.  When we got to shore, I dropped to my knees and said, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man.”  He said to me, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.”  What could we do but follow?  Twelve men, Jesus called, and we all began to follow – ever so slowly at first – doubting him every step of the way.  But the more we saw – the more we heard – the more we came to love this man called Jesus with a love we had never known before.  The things we saw Jesus do were nothing short of amazing.  We saw him turn water into wine.  We saw him feed 5000 people with but five loaves of bread and two fish.  We saw him heal a man who was blind from birth.  And then we saw him raise Lazarus from the dead.  We began to believe that Jesus was the Messiah Israel had long awaited.  We began to believe that Jesus was, in fact, the very Son of God.

     It was at the last supper we ever ate with Jesus that he taught us the secret to life.  After supper, he filed a basin with water and girded himself with a towel.  Then he began to wash his disciples’ filthy, dirty feet.  It was a task typically reserved only for the lowest of the low.  Yet here was the Lord of life washing his disciples’ feet.  When he came to me I said, “Lord, do you wash my feet?”  Jesus said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part of me.”  I said to him, “Lord, not only my feet but also my head and my hands!”  Jesus said, “Your feet will do for now.”  And in that one simple act, Jesus taught us the secret to life.  The secret to life is love.  And the keys to love are humility and selflessness.  Again, the secret to life is love, and the keys to love are humility and selflessness.

     It was after this that Jesus gave us his passion prediction.  He told us that one of our number would betray him.  We failed to understand.  I said to Jesus, “Lord, I would lay down my life for you!”  Jesus said, “Will you lay down your life for me, Peter?  I tell you, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.”  Much to my chagrin, that’s exactly what I did.  Then Jesus said, “Let not your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God.  Believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many rooms.  If it were not so – if it were not so – would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And when I go and prepare a place for you I will come again and will take you to myself that where I am, you may be also.  And you know the way where I am going.  Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?’  Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father…but by me.’”

     After Jesus had said these words, we left the upper room and went to the Garden of Gethsemane.  There we disciples fell asleep, while Jesus went off to pray.  It wasn’t long before Judas led an angry mob to where we were.  When they laid their hands on Jesus, I drew my sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave.  Jesus reached up and restored the man’s ear.  Then he told me to put my sword away.  It was almost as if he was saying, “Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword.”  At that, we disciples fled while the mob hauled Jesus to the high priest’s house.

     I followed at a distance to the house.  There was a fire in the courtyard and as I sat warming myself by the fire, a woman said to me, “Weren’t you with that Jesus?”  I said, “No, I was not!”  A little while later someone else said, “Weren’t you with Jesus?”  Again I said, “No, I was not!”  Then a group of people again accused me of being with Jesus.  I shouted, “I tell you, I do not know the man!”  At that, the cock crowed.  Jesus had been right.  At a time when Jesus needed me most, I had denied even knowing him.  You cannot even begin to imagine how I felt after that.

     Jesus was brutally beaten and hung on a cross to die.  When Jesus died, our hopes and dreams died alongside him.  We disciples huddled together in the upper room.  We were terrified!  If they’d done that to Jesus, what would they do to us?  Jesus died on a Friday.  We were huddled together all day on Saturday.  It was probably the longest day of our lives.  Then early on Sunday morning, some women from our company went to the tomb to embalm the body of Jesus.  They came back to us telling us that the tomb was empty – that Jesus had been risen – and that they’d even seen an angel.  I ran to the tomb myself to check their story out.  Sure enough, the tomb was empty.  Jesus later appeared to us and convinced us that he had been raised from the dead.  Now we had the assurance of a resurrection.  Now we had the hope of our own salvation as well.  You might think that would be the end of my story.  You might think so, but it is not.

     After we had the assurance of our own salvation, we went back to our regular lives.  I said to the other disciples, “I am going fishing.”  Several of them went with me.  We toiled all night long and didn’t catch a thing.  Then there was this man on the shoreline.  He said, “Cast your nets on the other side of the boat for a catch.”  And when we did, we hauled in 153 fish.  John cried out, “It is the Lord!”  I sprang from the boat and I ran to him.  Jesus said to me, “Peter, do you love me?”  I said, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  He said to me, “Feed my lambs.”  Then Jesus said to me again, “Peter, do you love me?”  I said, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  He said to me, “Tend my sheep.”  Then Jesus said to me for a third time, “Peter, do you love me?”  I was hurt.  I said, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  Jesus said to me, “Feed my sheep.”  And then I knew that the assurance of my salvation was not enough.  As John wrote in his gospel, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”  Salvation is not the end of the journey, it is merely the beginning.  We were called to spread the gospel across the land in order to transform the world.  And some 2000 years later, you are called to do the very same thing.  As a man named Paul Harvey used to say, “Now you know the rest of the story.”  Amen.   

 

 

 

4-4-2010 Easter Sunday Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

WISHFUL THINKING

     There was an interesting article in last Tuesday’s Meadville Tribune about the Hitchens brothers.  Christopher Hitchens has become one of the world’s most prolific atheists and is the author of a book entitled, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything.  Peter Hitchens is his younger brother, and is a man who recently overcame a bout with atheism.  He, too, is the author of a book entitled, The Rage Against God, which is actually a defense of the Christian faith.  Can you imagine what their family reunions must be like?

    Christopher Hitchens does not appear to be a person who will be changing his beliefs any time soon.  He once said, “God did not create man in his own image.  Evidently, it was the other way around.”  In other words, human beings invented the notion of God out of a deep psychological need.  He writes:

There are four irreducible objections to religious faith: that it wholly misrepresents the origins of man and the cosmos, that it manages to combine the maximum of servility with the maximum of solipsism, that it is the cause of dangerous sexual repression, and that it is ultimately grounded on wishful thinking.

   I don’t want to get into the business of servility or solipsism or sexual repression, but I do want to wrestle with his notions on wishful thinking.  Because in a way, I think Mr. Hitchens is right.  God could reasonably be called a product of wishful thinking.  After all, when someone takes advantage of us and there’s nothing we can do about it, don’t we hope there’s Someone up above keeping score?  When we become ill and it’s questionable as to whether or not medical science can heal us, don’t we want to turn to a higher Source?  And as we approach that time in life when we will no longer exist in this world, don’t we hope for something beyond this earthly life?     

   I think of what comedian Jerry Seinfeld once said in one of his bits.  He said, “Recent polls show that the greatest fear of most Americans is public speaking.  People are more afraid of public speaking than they are of dying.  So in other words, most people would rather be in the coffin…than up front doing the eulogy!”

     I’m not so sure that Jerry Seinfeld or those so-called polls are right.  People who are on in years and have lived a life of faith may not be afraid of dying.  But perhaps there is no greater fear for those who have not lived so long or who have not lived a life of faith.  Death has long been the greatest fear of the human race.  It’s instinctive…we simply have a drive to survive.  It stands to reason, then, that life beyond death could well be what Christopher Hitchens calls wishful thinking.  We have a deep-seated desire for life to go on, and we have a deep-seated hope that God will provide a way.

     Two thousand years ago, the belief in a resurrection was not nearly as doctrinal as it is today.  The Pharisee sect of the Jewish faith had a vague notion of some kind of life after death after a cataclysmic end of the world.  The Sadducee sect of the Jewish faith vehemently denied the existence of life after death altogether.  It was this confusion – this lack of certainty – that led to such despair for those who followed Jesus in the aftermath of his crucifixion.  Jesus had died and with his death, all of their hopes and dreams seemed to die alongside him.

     Such was the situation for the women who went to Jesus’ tomb bright and early on a Sunday morning.  Jesus had been crucified the Friday before and since Saturday was their Sabbath, they waited until Sunday to embalm the body.  As they made their way to the tomb, they were all wrapped up in earthly concerns.  “Who will roll the stone away from the door of the tomb?” they wondered as they walked.  Tombs in those days were caves and they had great round rocks rolled in front of them.  The stone would be far too big for them to budge.  Thus, we could say it was a valid concern.

     Yet when they arrived at the tomb, they found that the stone had already been rolled away.  Note how our passage says they were “perplexed” about this.  The Greek word translated “perplexed” is haporeisthai.  It means literally, “to be at a loss as to what to do.”  These women were literally at a loss as to what to do.  Note that it was then that they encountered two men in dazzling clothes.  Luke says it was two men in dazzling clothes.  Mark says it was a young man in a long, white robe. Matthew says it was one angel while John says it was two.  In any case, I think the lesson is clear.  When we are perplexed – when we are at a loss as to what to do – that is when we can turn to God and God will give us guidance.  Sometimes it takes a little perplexity for us to get beyond our pride and self-sufficiency and to open ourselves to God.  Again, sometimes it takes a little perplexity for us to get beyond our pride and self-sufficiency and to open ourselves to God.

     While the gospels may not be in agreement as to who appeared to the women at the tomb, they all agree on one thing: the tomb was empty.  Jesus had been raised from the dead.  This,     of course, was the greatest news they could have encountered.  Death had been overcome by    the Son of God.  Now their greatest fear – the fear of death – had been vanquished.  While Christopher Hitchens may call this wishful thinking, we have four separate accounts that tell us otherwise.  Death is not the end of life, it is merely the end of a phase of life.  There is a resurrection.  Now we have the hope that our lives go on.  As I often times say in my funeral sermons, “It’s not ‘goodbye’ we say to the dearly departed today.  It is, rather, ‘Until we meet again.’”  Such is the assurance of the resurrection.  It marks an end to our greatest fear, and it thus serves as the greatest news we could possibly hear.  In fact the very words “good news” are literally translated “gospel.”  Maybe that’s why the writings of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are called the gospels.  They are meant to present – and they represent – good news.           

     The question is, what do we do with that wonderful news?  Is it meant to be shared or is it meant to be hoarded unto ourselves?  Or, perhaps better put, is the assurance of our salvation   the end of our journey with God, or is it merely the beginning?  Abraham Heschel has an interesting take on this in his book, God in Search of Man.  He writes:

The world needs more than the secret holiness of individual inwardness.  It needs more than sacred sentiments and good intentions.  God asks for the heart because He needs the lives.  It is by lives that the world will be redeemed – by lives that beat in concordance with God – (and) by deeds that outbeat the finite charity of the human heart. 

     In other words, the assurance of our salvation is not the end of our journey with God.  It is merely the beginning.  God wants us to do something with the good news of the resurrection, not simply hoard it unto ourselves.  And that is exactly what those women who went to the tomb to embalm the body of Jesus did.  They ran and told the disciples of all they had heard and seen.

We might even call them the world’s first evangelists.

     Yet the disciples did not believe the report of the women.  Our passage says, “The words seemed to them an idle tale.”  That’s actually putting it mildly.  What the Greek words used   here mean literally is that it seemed to them to be the babbling of fevered or irrational minds.      Still, Peter went to the tomb to check the story out.  He ran to the tomb and found it just as       the women had said.  Yet he found something else as well.  The gospel of John takes an entire verse to explain it.  Peter found the linen cloth that had been wrapped around the body of Jesus lying there.  He also found the napkin that had been on Jesus’ head – not lying with the linen wrappings – but folded up in a place by itself.  Is a folded napkin significant?

     In order to understand the significance of the folded napkin, one has to understand a little    bit about the Hebrew tradition of that day.  The folded napkin had to do with the master and     the servant, and every Jewish servant at the time was aware of this tradition.  When the servant set the dinner table for the master, he made sure that it was exactly the way the master wanted   it.  The table was furnished perfectly, then the servant would wait – just out of sight – until the master had finished eating.  The servant would not dare touch the table until the master was done.

    If the master was done eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his fingers and his face, then wad up the napkin and toss it on the table.  The servant then knew it was time to clear the table.  For in those days, the wadded napkin meant, “I am finished.”  But if the master got up from the table and folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate, the servant would not dare touch the table.  For you see, the folded napkin meant, “I’m not finished yet.  I will be coming back.”  Perhaps the folded napkin in Jesus’ tomb was meant to insinuate the very same thing.  Perhaps it, too, meant, “I’m not finished yet.  I will be coming back.”  Peter knew then that his job was not yet finished either.  The assurance of his salvation was but the beginning of his journey with God.

     So there you have it…the assurance of your own salvation.  Perhaps you have figured out that your journey with God is just beginning as well.  So what do you suppose it is that God still wants you to do?  Or perhaps better put, what do you suppose God wants the mission of the First Presbyterian Church of Meadville to be?

    We live in a community that is filled with poverty, more and more every day.  I recently heard that more than 40% of our high school students are on the free or reduced lunch plan.  More than 50% of our middle school students are on the free or reduced lunch plan. And one of our local elementary schools has 96% of its students on the free or reduced lunch plan.  And this doesn’t count the students who may be too proud to admit their need – who don’t want to admit to their poverty “stigma.”  If we are truly Christians assured of our own salvation, we cannot sit idly by in the face of facts like these.  Our hearts must somehow be moved to action.

   I know it’s easy to blame the parents of these children for their predicament.  But nevertheless, can we in good conscience allow these children to go hungry?  Can we in good conscience sit idly by, reveling in our own salvation, and allow these children to climb onto that same merry-go-round of poverty that their parents are on?  Or should we seek to do something about it?     

     Maybe we could provide an after-school program for kids who are in this predicament.  Our after-school program might include things like recreation time, Bible study, a nutritious meal, and classroom tutoring.  Kids from the streets would encounter Christian compassion and love, maybe for the first time in their lives.  Of course, such a program would require a significant number of volunteers.  Yet if we actually attempted to do such a thing, don’t we believe it would make a profound difference in their lives?  In fact, don’t we believe that the presence of Christ makes a profound difference in anyone’s life?  Here’s the most amazing thing about that though.  When compassionate people seek to transform the lives of those in need, those people often find themselves being even more profoundly transformed.  Again, when compassionate people seek to transform the lives of those in need, those people often find themselves being even more profoundly transformed.  That’s just the way God’s Holy Spirit works.

     I know, I know, some of you are rolling your eyes saying, “We’ve heard all of this before!”  And I’ll admit it.  You have.  You’ve heard it from me.  But don’t you know what preaching is?  Preaching is like the waves of the ocean lapping up against a rocky shoreline.  As the waves continually slap against the rocks, they slowly begin to make inroads.  They slowly erode the rocks away.  That’s what preaching is meant to do.  It’s meant to make inroads and to erode away the hardened hearts of our worldly nature.  Of course, you have to be here for that to hap-pen, but that’s another sermon. 

   Christ is risen.  Christ is risen indeed!  Now that our greatest fear has been taken away – now that we have the hope of life everlasting – our journey toward God is ready to begin.  We have   a deep need in our community and we have a profound mission from God.  As author Frederick Buechner once said, “Our calling from God is where the world’s deep need and our deep hunger...intersect.”  Is the social and spiritual transformation of the young people in our   community something we feel called by God to accomplish, or is it merely wishful thinking?  Amen.