4-24-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

ARE YOU A FAN OR A FOLLOWER?

    Albert Einstein was a German-born physicist who lived from 1879 until 1955.  He’s credited with discovering the theory of general relativity, which created a quite a stir in his field.  In 1921 he received the Nobel Prize in physics.  Albert Einstein was brilliant.  In fact, he was so brilliant that the very word “Einstein” is now synonymous with the word “genius.” It was common sense that most often tripped up Albert Einstein.

    Many years ago, Albert Einstein boarded a train in Princeton, New Jersey. Before long, the conductor came strolling down the aisle, punching the tickets of all the passengers. When he came to Albert Einstein, Einstein reached inside his vest pocket for his ticket, but the ticket wasn’t there.  So he reached inside his pants pockets, but the ticket wasn’t there either.  He opened up his briefcase and looked inside, but still there was no ticket.  Then he checked the   seat beside him, but the ticket was nowhere to be found.

    Finally the conductor said, “Dr. Einstein, I know who you are.  We all know who you are.  I’m sure you bought a ticket.  Don’t worry about it.  We’ll just let it slide today.”  Albert Einstein smiled and nodded appreciatively. 

    The conductor continued making his way down the aisle, punching the tickets of all the passengers.  Yet as he prepared to move on to the next car, he noticed Albert Einstein down on his hands and knees, checking the floor around his seat, still looking for his ticket.  The conductor rushed back and said, “Dr. Einstein, don’t worry! I’m sure you bought a ticket. I know who you are.” 

    Albert Einstein then looked at the conductor and said, “Young man, I, too, know who I am.  What I don’t know…is where I’m going!”

    It’s important to know where we’re going, is it not?  I mean, we all know where we’re going in an eschatological sense, don’t we?  That’s why we’re all gathered here this morning.  A number of years ago, an Easter-week edition of Newsweek magazine reported that 87% of all Americans believe that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead. Thus, preachers and ushers all across the land know that much of that 87% of the population will be coming to church this morning, trying to find a seat. We know where we’re going. We’re going to heaven. After all, isn’t that the point of the resurrection?  Isn’t that why we believe in Jesus Christ in the first place?     

    The Son of God came into the world some 2000 years ago.  Many began to listen to him as   he taught in the land of Galilee.  They walked beside him and watched in amazement as large crowds of people began to appear wherever he was.  They watched in awe as he did what no   one had ever done before – restore sight to the blind, heal the sick, mend the lame, and raise the dead. They even followed him to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast of the Passover and watched in wonder as thousands cheered him and welcomed him and waved palm branches in the air and called him “Messiah.” 

    Then they watched in fear as an angry mob surrounded him one night and arrested him for blasphemy and sedition. They did what any sane person would do. They fled in terror, abandoning him to his fate.  Maybe they were still on the edge of the crowd that Friday morning when he appeared before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate.  Maybe they heard the crowd turn against him and demand his execution.  Maybe they even watched from afar as he was nailed to a cross and hung on it to die.

    Jesus wasn’t the only thing to die on that Friday afternoon.  So did his followers’ hopes that in him, something new and beautiful had come to earth.  Hearing him teach, watching him heal the sick, mend the lame and raise the dead, seeing him restore peace to a man possessed by a demon – why, one could almost imagine a world like that: a world where goodness and kindness and gentleness prevail, instead of meanness and cruelty and violence.  One could almost imagine a world where children are fed and the sick are cared for; a world where there are no concealed weapons and innocent children are not gunned down in the streets; a world where the elderly    are secure and where precious resources are invested in life, not weapons of mass destruction.  That’s what died on that first Good Friday. Jesus died, and so did his followers’ hope for a better world.

    And then there came reports that he was alive.  If he was alive, then so was the dream.  If he was alive, then so was the hope.  If he was alive, then that meant that they had the hope of life everlasting.  I mean, that is what he promised, is it not?  And if he was alive, then so was their hope for a better world.  Thus, there was much they still had to do.  They would have to take over the mission and ministry Jesus started.  As Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, once put it, “The resurrection of Jesus Christ is an eschatological event that makes possible a radical new style of life.”  Again, “The resurrection of Jesus Christ is an eschatological event   that makes possible a radical new style of life.”

    In other words, we seek to emulate in our own lives the life of Jesus Christ.  That’s the radical new style of life Rowan Williams was talking about.  We seek to emulate in our own lives the life of Jesus Christ.  Easter is all about the risen Lord.  Thanks to him, we now know where we are going in an eschatological sense.  Now there is life after death.  One day, we shall abide in that realm of God we call heaven.  Ladies and gentlemen, it’s all about Jesus on Easter Sunday.  His resurrection necessarily evokes in us a response of gratitude and thanksgiving.  Thus, I feel compelled to ask you now: are you a fan or a follower?  Are you a fan of Jesus Christ, or are you a follower of Jesus Christ?

    The most basic definition of a fan is this: an enthusiastic admirer.  A fan is nothing more than an enthusiastic admirer.  For example, I’ve been a St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan since my family moved to St. Louis in June of 1968.  I might add that it’s easier to be a St. Louis Cardinals fan than it is to be, say, a Pittsburgh Pirates fan or a Cleveland Indians fan because the Cardinals win so much more…but I digress. As a Cardinals fan I am nothing more than an enthusiastic admirer.  I do not take part in any of the games, I do not contribute to wins and losses, and I am absolutely, positively not allowed on the field!  In other words, being a fan costs me nothing.

    A fan is nothing more than an enthusiastic admirer. So I ask you again, are you a fan of Jesus Christ, or are you a follower of Jesus Christ?  The answer to that question makes all the difference in the world.  You see, Jesus was never really interested in having a lot of fans.  When he defines the kind of relationship he wants us to have with him, the term “enthusiastic admirer” is never listed as an option.  I like the way Kyle Idleman puts it in his book, Not a Fan.  He writes:  

My concern is that many of our churches in America have gone from being sanctuaries   to becoming stadiums.  And every week all the fans come to the stadium where they cheer for Jesus, but (they) have no interest in truly following him.  The biggest threat to the church today is fans who call themselves Christians but aren’t actually interested in following Christ.  They want to be close enough to Jesus to get all the benefits, but not   so close that it requires anything from them.

 

We are called to be followers of Jesus Christ, not just fans of Jesus Christ.  How does one move from being a fan to becoming a follower? I think a man named Chester Eastep describes   it very well in a story he wrote called, “Easter in Nosara.”  He writes:

Like many people, I thought my retirement years would be a time of hard-earned leisure.  (By the way, the word “retirement” is nowhere to be found in the Bible.) But two things altered my course: a violent storm at sea and an unfinished church.

 

My wife Martha and I wintered on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica. Strolling through the town of Nosara, we came upon two fairly new cinderblock walls standing among some scrub palmettos.  I was curious, so I stopped a man and asked him about them.  He explained that the parish had run out of money and couldn’t complete the church.  Then he pointed to a ragged thatched-roof structure supported by four precarious posts.  “For now, we worship there,” he said, “when it doesn’t rain.”

 

I stared at the half-built church and the oddest notion came to me: somehow I should help complete the church.  I was gung-ho at first, but my enthusiasm soon waned.  The parishioners were not as forthcoming as I’d hoped – most worked long hours for little pay – and soliciting people back home was difficult.  I let the project lapse.

 

I wasn’t thinking about the church at all one Sunday a couple years later when I joined two friends and a guide named Pablo for a morning of offshore fishing.  We had pretty good luck, and then Pablo suggested that we head in. When he pulled the motor’s starter cord, the engine just sputtered and died.  Another pull yanked the cord clear out of the motor casing. “Oh, no,” I thought, squinting back at the shore, which was by now just a thin dark streak on the horizon.

 

We had no radio on board, and all we had in the way of tools was a pair of pliers and a Swiss Army knife. Pablo labored well into the afternoon on that motor. Finally he threw the pliers down in despair and said, “We’d better drop anchor. Maybe it will hold us here until help arrives.”  The water was deep and the line wasn’t long enough to reach the bottom. Soon a stiff breeze kicked up and pushed us even further from shore. The wind grew stronger and colder, stinging us with sea spray.  Sleep was not an option.

 

“Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “please save us. But if it’s my time, please be with me now.” Then in my mind I saw that little unfinished church and I was filled with aching regret. It was a vow I hadn’t kept – a promise between myself and God.  It was a regret, apparently, that I would take to the grave.

 

I didn’t bargain with God, but I told myself that if I somehow got out of this alive, I would do everything in my power to finish the church.  A sudden peace came into my heart. The storm continued to pound, but I was no longer afraid. Then late in the afternoon, we heard the roar of an airplane engine. It flew just above us and dipped its wing to acknowledge our presence. A short time later, over the crest of a wave, we saw lights.   It was a ship in the distance, coming to rescue us.

 

The next day we were back onshore with our families.  The day after that, I threw myself into the church-building project with renewed determination. Money dribbled in and construction resumed with farmers and fishermen pitching in when they could spare the time.

 

Nine years later, the church was completed. On Easter Sunday 1990, 250 people showed up to worship.  We sang hymns through the night and when dawn broke over the Pacific, many of us were still there.  I couldn’t help but think of another ocean sunrise on a morning when all hope seemed lost.  I had been delivered from despair to hope.

    We have been delivered from despair to hope as well, thanks to Christ’s rising from the dead.  We have the hope of life everlasting and we have the hope of a better world in the here and now.  That should make a difference in the way we order our lives, don’t you think? It should make us respond in gratitude and dedication rather than apathy and entitlement.  So I ask you again: Are you a fan or a follower?  Are you willing to give the best you’ve got to give in the name of Jesus Christ, or are you content to simply be an enthusiastic admirer?  Amen.

 

4-17-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART VI

    As many of you know, our oldest son, Rob, is a student at Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa.  And as many of you also know, he’s had issues with post-concussion syndrome since his football playing days in high school.  That’s why I was a little concerned about his judgment –   or lack thereof – when I discovered that the young men on the lacrosse team had talked him into playing with them in a college tournament in Chicago.  Now as I understand it, he did mention his concussion issues to a few of them, but they assured him that he wouldn’t hit his head if he was playing as a defenseman. So he went with them last weekend.  Believe it or not, he did not solicit my opinion on the matter.   Yet I should have suspected that something was up when he wanted us to send him his old football cleats.

    I believe it was last Saturday afternoon when my wife stopped by my office at the church.  We were getting ready to go to Logan Luce’s birthday party in fellowship hall.  She said to me, “Rob just called. He’s in the emergency room at a hospital in Chicago.”  Now news like that has never set well with me. My first response is usually somewhat less than compassionate.  I said, “What did he do this time?” She said, “He got hit in the hand with a lacrosse stick and apparently he broke two fingers pretty badly.”

    I just shook my head and said, “When is that child ever going to grow up?”  My wife looked at me incredulously and said, “Do ya hear yourself?  Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black!”  I was a little hurt.  I’m not sure I know what she was trying to say.  Sure, I play basketball with a bunch of other old guys on Mondays and Thursdays, but we do it for the exercise.  It’s not that we can’t grow up, or that we’re overly competitive, or anything like that.  We’re not concerned with who wins or who loses.  It’s just a low-key game among friends and we play strictly for fun.  (Isn’t that right, Marty?)

    Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that we were a little competitive.  Have you ever known anyone who was competitive to a fault?  They do not like to lose, do they?  They will do anything in their power to win. They feel like they have to win at all costs and if they don’t, they take it personally. That competitiveness then tends to extend beyond game playing and into other aspects of their lives.  They have to make more sales than anyone else.  They have to win more awards than anyone else. They have to have the spotlight on themselves more than anyone else.  When someone is competitive to a fault, they can make themselves and everyone around them absolutely miserable. The question we need to ask ourselves here is this: Do setbacks and losses eat away at me? 

    I think of one of the best things I ever heard in terms of having a successful, long-lasting marriage. Someone once said, “You can choose to be happy, or you can choose to be right.” People who are competitive to a fault tend to opt for choosing to be right.  Like I said, they can make themselves and everyone around them absolutely miserable. Perhaps they need to ask themselves: Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?   

    Then there are the internal monologues that can sometimes go on in our heads.  Suppose we get into a disagreement with someone. We argue with them and in the end, we come out the obvious loser.  In those instances, I like to say I have 20/20 hindsight.  I always know what I should have said!  The question is, how long do we stew about that?  Do we go over it again and again in our minds to the point of distraction?  Or, can we simply let it go and chalk it up to experience?  The question is: Do setbacks and losses eat away at me? 

    One of my all-time favorite quips is this: If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans!  But we still make plans, do we not?  We still have hopes and dreams.  It can hurt very deeply when life does not go according to our best-laid plans.  A child we loved more than life itself doesn’t turn out quite the way we planned.  The economy collapses and we lose half our savings, meaning retirement will not be quite the way we dreamed.  Then a husband or a wife dies, and you feel as if half of yourself has been torn asunder, meaning your golden years will not be quite the way you hoped.  It’s easy to become bitter. It’s easy to focus on what is wrong with our lives instead of what is right.  How do we resolve to face the world when our deepest hopes and dreams have been dashed before our very eyes?  Again the question is: Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

    Ladies and gentlemen, today is Palm Sunday, otherwise known as the sixth Sunday in Lent.   As I’ve mentioned each Sunday over the course of the last five weeks, Lent is a time for self-examination.  And if we are to be about the business of self-examination, then perhaps there    are a number of questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent –   as we find ourselves yearning for life in Lent. Perhaps we should be asking ourselves questions like the following:

-          Do I ever feel as if I am in a wilderness?

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

-          Do I see weakness in myself and the need to change?

-          From what – or from whom – do I run away and hide?

-          How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life?

-          Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?

-          What do I need to confess in order to be free of guilt?

-          With what am I struggling and in pain?

-          What do I need to allow to die in me in order to be closer to God?

     And then there’s the question we’ve been wrestling with today.  Do setbacks and losses eat away at me? Ah, things don’t always work out the way we plan, do they?  The question is: Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?                   

    Now at first glance, the passage I read from the gospel according to Matthew would not appear to have anything to do with setbacks and losses.  I mean, we just read about Jesus’ triumphal ride into Jerusalem amid pomp and circumstance; amid shouts of “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest!”   What on earth does that have to do with set-backs and losses?

    I want you to think for a moment about what transpired by the end of the week.  Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a Sunday afternoon.  He taught the multitude in the streets who were gathered there for the feast of the Passover.  He created quite a scene in the temple, overturning the tables of the money changers.  He celebrated what came to be called his Last Supper with his disciples.  Then on Thursday night, he was arrested.  By Friday he had been tried in a kangaroo court and hung on a cross to die.  The fact of the matter is, Jesus knew all this would happen to him when he rode into Jerusalem in the first place.

    How was Jesus able to ride into Jerusalem when he knew it spelled his ultimate demise?  Clearly setbacks and losses didn’t eat away at Jesus.  He was about to experience the consummate setback and loss.  What was his secret?  How was he able to fulfill his mission in    spite of what he knew lay ahead?  The secret, I think, is the hope that burned inside his heart.   He knew that beyond his crucifixion lay his resurrection.  He knew that his ultimate welfare   was in the hands of God.  The question is, how do we get there ourselves?  How do we come to trust our ultimate welfare to God?

    I think a part of the secret can be explained by what we call The Law of Expectation.   The Law of Expectation says that whatever we expect with emotional conviction has a tendency to materialize. What’s more, this is equally true for both positive and negative things. That which we expect to see is what we generally come to see.

    For example, before I came to Meadville, I don’t think I ever noticed a Subaru Outback station wagon on the road.  Yet now that I’ve come to Meadville and a good friend of mine drives one, I see them all the time.  I think half of the professors at Allegheny drive Subaru Outback station wagons!  The point is, now that the Subaru Outback station wagon is in my mind, I see them all the time.

    That’s kind of how The Law of Expectation works.  We come to see that which we expect to see.  We come to see what we’re looking for.  If setbacks and losses eat away at us, we thus have a tendency to look for the dark side of everything.  It can literally become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  What if we were to start looking for God in the things we see?  What if we were to start looking for the good in everything we encounter?  Don’t you think we’d start to see things   a little bit differently?  Don’t you think The Law of Expectation would come to apply to us?

    Jesus saw God in everything around him.  Jesus saw the good in everything he encountered.  That might be how he was able to ride into Jerusalem in the face of certain death. He trusted God to deliver him in the end.  The question is, how do we get there ourselves?  How do we come to trust in the fact that God will deliver us in the end? 

    Charles and Winnie were homeowners in New Orleans, Louisiana.  Charles was 70 years old and Winnie was 63.  They’d moved out of the 9^th Ward and into a blond brick ranch-style home in eastern New Orleans just a few weeks before Hurricane Katrina.  Both of their houses were flooded in the storm.  In fact, the old house was knocked clear off of its foundation.  Volunteers from all across the country came to help, but after more than a year, Charles and Winnie’s homes were still in shambles.  They were living in a FEMA trailer in the front yard of their newer home.

    The trailer was small, even by FEMA standards.  You couldn’t stand side-by-side inside the trailer, and the bedroom was basically a bed squeezed between two walls. The bathroom was so small that you couldn’t lift your arms to wash in the shower.  They could tolerate the cramped quarters themselves, but they really wanted their house to be finished. You see, Winnie’s mother was 97 years old, and she needed to come to live with them as well.  

    The rebuilding crew was a good bunch of folks – about 25 strong – mostly from Pittsburgh.  Many were teenagers, but there were a few couples, and even entire families there.  Seventy-year-old Charles did what he could to help.  Now I’ve been on mission trips where we worked   on people’s houses myself.  It’s frustrating when you’re out there working in the blazing sun, while the people you’re there to serve are sitting inside an air-conditioned house smoking cigarettes, but I digress.  Charles did what he could to help.  He even managed to bond with many of the teenagers.

    On Good Friday, they gathered in the front room of the house for a sort of dedication.  Most of the major work was done and much of the group would be going home over the course of the next few days.  A Pittsburgh pastor led the dedication, strumming a guitar and leading the group in song. 

    Then the pastor pointed out how appropriate it was that they were gathering there on a Good Friday.  Like so many who lived in New Orleans, Jesus had felt forgotten and forsaken when he died.  It was a dark day, he said, but the best part about that was knowing that things were going to get better.  “New Orleans,” he said, “like Jesus, will one day rise again.” Then the pastor from Pittsburgh asked this question: “When have you ever felt that God has forsaken you?”

    Then Winnie, through her tears, began telling their tale: How they’d just moved into the house when the storm hit, and they’d moved so they would have a place to bring her mother.    She talked about losing her father after the storm, and how it felt to be homeless.  Then she added, “I know what it’s like to be hungry. I know what it’s like to go to bed at night listening to the crying and moaning of people around you.  I know what it’s like to be in pain and to think that God has abandoned you.”

    Her soft sobs sparked tears all around the room.  Charles, who rubbed his wife’s neck with one hand while she spoke, then took over for his wife.  He said he knew they’d suffered some, but still he believed that they had been blessed.  He may have had arthritis pain in his shoulder, but at least he could still lift his arm, and there were so many people who couldn’t even walk when “Uncle Arthur,” as he put it, came to visit.  So many people had lost loved ones in the storm, but he hadn’t had to bury any of his children or grandchildren.  He may have lost everything, but people came forward to give.  “Everything I’ve got on, someone gave me,” he said, tugging at a Pirates baseball cap. 

    “God is good,” Charles said, “God is good.” He knew this because God had sent so many wonderful strangers to New Orleans to help his family put their life back together.  Charles concluded his speech with these words: “God may not come when you want him to, but he’s always right on time.”

    God may not come when you want him to, but he’s always right on time.  I think that might have been Jesus’ mantra as well.  He was able to face Good Friday because he knew that Easter was right on its heels.  He trusted in the fact that God would deliver him in God’s time.  And that, my friends, is why setbacks and losses should not eat away at us.  It’s all a matter of trusting in God.  Just remember that God’s time is not the same as our time.  Thus, while God may not come when you want him to, he’s always right on time.  Those are the words of life.  Amen.

 

4-10-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART V

    “Dear Abby,” the letter began.  “I am a 21-year-old male who feels lost and unfulfilled because I don’t know what I want from life. I am one of three adopted children. I was the child who always needed the family support system the most.  I come from a not-so-happy family, one with all of its priorities centered around money – or, more accurately – the lack thereof.  I never felt the love a child should feel from his family.

    “My problem these days is my alcohol intake.  I can’t stay away from beer.  I drink to forget my family problems and the fact that I can’t seem to get anything right.  I dropped out of college because I don’t have a passion for anyone or anything.  I used to have hobbies, like writing and photography, but the alcohol has taken away my motivation and my creativity.  I feel like I’m losing my will to keep trying.  I want so badly to keep trying, but my emotions are keeping me down.  I just want something new, something I can give my all to, something that won’t hurt me in the future.”  Signed, “What Can I Do?”

    Abby’s response was to recommend that that young man seek out a support group called Emotions Anonymous.  My recommendation would have been a little bit different.  I would have suggested that this young man learn how to pray, that he take the time to worship God, and that he pick up a Bible and read it at least five minutes a day.  In short, I would have suggested that he seek to discern GOD’S purpose for his life.  As Saint Augustine put it some 1600 years ago, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.”  I believe the young man who wrote the letter to “Dear Abby” has a restless heart, and it will forever be restless until it finds its rest in God.

     Ladies and gentlemen, today is the fifth Sunday in Lent.  As I’ve mentioned each of the last four weeks, Lent is a time for self-examination.  If we are to be about the business of self-examination, then perhaps there are a number of questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent – as we find ourselves yearning for life in Lent.  Perhaps we should be asking ourselves questions like the following:

-          Do I ever feel as if I am in a wilderness?

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

-          Do I see weakness in myself and the need to change?

-          Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

-          From what – or from whom – do I run away and hide?

-          Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?

-          What do I need to confess in order to be free of guilt?

-          With what am I struggling and in pain?

-          What do I need to allow to die in me in order to be closer to God?

    And then there’s the question we’re going to be wrestling with today: “How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life?”  As Saint Augustine said, “Our hearts will be restless until they find their rest in God.”  So let us ask ourselves now: How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life? 

     A 21-year-old man wrote a letter to an advice columnist seeking purpose in his life.  Up to this point in his life, he has been unable to find it and has found himself turning instead to alcohol.  I believe a good counseling professional would say that he is currently self-medicating.  He is using alcohol to numb the pain and the emptiness he feels inside.  Yet if Augustine is right, perhaps the reason HE has not found purpose in his life is because he has not yet found GOD’S purpose for his life.  Have any of us ever found ourselves in a similar predicament?  Have any of us ever strayed from God’s purpose for our lives?

    Perhaps the place to start is to explore just exactly what God’s purpose for our lives really is. Does God have a purpose for our lives? I believe God does have a purpose for our lives. Yet in order to discern that purpose, I think there’s one basic question that we have to get right first.  That question is this: Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  You see, if we get the answer to that question wrong, we’re never going to get the rest of it right either.  And unfortunately, there are a lot of otherwise very intelligent people who get the answer to that question wrong. 

    The day after the events of nine-eleven, Anne Graham Lotz – the daughter of Billy Graham – was interviewed by Jane Clayson on “The Early Show.”  Clayson said, “I’ve heard people say, those who are religious, those who are not, that if God is good, how could God let this happen?”  I think the basic theory behind that question is the belief that God exists to serve us.  And if, in fact, God does exist to serve us, then clearly God failed us in this instance.  Clayson then added, “To that, you say?”

    Lotz replied, “I say God is also angry when he sees something like this.  I would say also for several years now Americans, in a sense, have shaken their fist at God and said, ‘God, we want you out of our schools, our government, our business…we want you out of our marketplace.’ And God, who is a gentleman, has just quietly backed out of our national and political life – our public life – removing his hand of blessing and protection.  We need to turn to God first of all and say, ‘God, we’re sorry we have treated you this way and we invite you now to come into our national life. We put our trust in you.’ We have our trust in God on our coins; we need to practice it.”

    Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  Get the answer to that question wrong and we’re never going to get the rest of it right either.  Jane Clayson saw a God who exists to serve us.  Anne Graham Lotz saw us existing to serve God.  Ladies and gentlemen, we exist to serve God.  That does not mean that God does nothing for us.  I mean, if God did nothing for us, then what would be the point of having him around? Yet first and foremost we must remember that we exist to serve God.  We serve God not in order to get something from him, rather, we serve God because of what he has already done.   

    In fact, we see just exactly how God wants us to serve him in the passage Scott read from the book of Micah.  The question is asked, “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high?” The passage then goes into what God doesn’t want, but then it dictates just exactly what he does. The words of God are these: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?”  For those of us looking for purpose in life, I think we’ve found our starting point.

    The Presbyterian faith is called a “confessional” faith.  By that I mean we consider the creeds and confessions of the church to be a part of our faith foundation as well.  They are what we call “sub-Scriptura,” which means they rank just below Scripture in formulating our belief system.  The creeds and confessions of the church include the Nicene Creed, the Apostles’ Creed, and the Westminster Confession of Faith, to name but a few. 

    The Shorter Catechism is one of those confessions to which the church adheres.  The Shorter Catechism is essentially a condensed version of the Westminster Confession, originally written to aid children in learning about the Christian faith.  The Shorter Catechism is a series of short questions and answers.  Yet when it comes to expressing God’s purpose for our lives, nothing defines it any better.  The question is asked in the Catechism, “What is the chief end of man?”   In other words, what is our purpose in life?  The answer is, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”  To enjoy God forever, obviously, is to have joy in this lifetime and to have eternal life as well.  Yet how do we glorify God?  The Old Testament would say, “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.” Yet I think Jesus has something more to add in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew. 

    The scene is a mountaintop in Galilee.  Jesus has been crucified, resurrected, and has made several post-resurrection appearances to his disciples. This is his last appearance to them before his ascension.  And here is what he had to say: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.  And lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” 

    These words have been called “The Great Commission.”  Think about it.  What does the word “commission” really mean?  It literally means “co-mission.”  The Great Commission is a great co-mission that we are called to undertake with none other than Jesus Christ himself.  For those of us looking for purpose in life, I think we’ve found our answer right here.  Our purpose in life is to make disciples of all nations.  Our purpose in life…is to make a difference in Jesus’ name.  Yet just exactly how do we go about making a difference in Jesus’ name?  Listen to the story of one woman who seems to have figured it out.

    Once upon a time, some dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life in general.  One man, the Chief Executive Officer of a large corporation, decided to explain his understanding of the problem with education.  He blurted, “What’s a kid going to learn from someone who decided that their best option in life was to become a teacher?  It’s true what they say about teachers, you know.  Those who can, DO. Those who can’t, TEACH.”  Then he looked right at one of the other dinner guests, an elementary school teacher named Susan.  He said to her, “You’re a teacher, Susan.  Be honest.  What do you make?” 

    Susan replied, “You want to know what I make?  I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.  I can make a C-plus feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor, and I can make an A-minus feel like a slap in the face, if the student did not do his or her best.  I can make 30 kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.  I can make them tremble in fear when I threaten to send them to the principal’s office.

    “You want to know what I make?  I make kids wonder.  I make them question.  I make them critique.  I make them apologize…and mean it.  I make them write.  I make them read and read and read some more.  I make them spell the word ‘beautiful’ over and over again until they will never misspell it the rest of their lives. I make them show all of their work in math and hide it all on their final drafts in English. 

    “I elevate them to experience music and art and the joy of performance so their lives are rich and full of culture, and they take pride in themselves and their accomplishments. I make them understand that God is up above, watching over them like a mother hen cares for her chicks.  I make them believe that if they have the brains, they should follow their hearts…and if someone ever tries to judge them by what they make, they should pay them no attention.”

    The mouths of the other dinner guests were agape as Susan concluded: “You want to know what I make? I make a difference. What do you make?” And that, my friends, was pretty much the end of the conversation.

    Augustine once said, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” Our hearts will forever be restless until we find our purpose in life.  Our purpose in life is found when we find God’s purpose for our lives. And we will find God’s purpose for our lives when we find a way to make a difference…when we find a way to make a difference in Jesus’ name.  Amen.