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.

    

 

3-28-10 Palm Sunday Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

AMAZING GRACE

     A rather unpleasant aspect of the Bible is how often it calls upon us to sacrifice.  The word “sacrifice” itself appears 284 times in the pages of Scripture.  The words “give” and “giving” appear a whopping 2285 times.  One might be led to believe that selfishness has no place in the Christian life.  Yet still, one has to ask the question, “Why?”  Why would one sacrifice – why would one give – when looking out for Number One is what most of us would really rather do?

     I believe a man named Bill Moore from Asheville, North Carolina – not Bill Moore from Meadville, Pennsylvania, Bill Moore from Asheville, North Carolina – addresses this phenomenon.  He tells a beautiful story as to why one might willingly choose to sacrifice one’s own self-interest for the sake of another.  I may have told you this story before – you know me, I get my churches mixed up – but I’ve always believed that a really good story is worth a second telling.  Listen closely just the same.

People who live in resort areas like ours rarely seem to lack for visitors, especially during the vacation season.  Much of the time this parade of pilgrims to the mountains is a pleasant experience for the hosts.  But recently, we had the visitor to end all visitors.

 

He couldn’t stay at our house unless we went out and bought a special kind of bed for him, we were told.  So we did.  He was accompanied by an entourage of no fewer than three people, whose mission in life was to wait on him hand and foot.  We had to find places for them to stay, we were told.  So we did.

 

He arrived with, of all things, an assortment of his own personal screwdrivers.  In his spare moments he proceeded to disassemble just about everything in the house.  Unfortunately, his skill at taking things apart was not nearly matched by his skill at putting them back together.  Someone had to constantly follow him around and reassemble the things he took apart.  So we did.

 

We like to take first-time visitors to Asheville to the lodge at Mount Pisgah for lunch.  The scenery nearly bowls them over, but not this guy.  We were barely over the bridge across the French Broad River when he went to sleep.  And he didn’t wake up until we got to the lodge.

 

He made a scene at lunch, refused to eat what was ordered for him, and insisted on eating someone else’s meal.  And before we could get him out of the place, I caught him kissing the waitress.  He turned out to be a real conversation killer as well.  While he slept, the rest of us walked around on tiptoe and spoke in hushed tones so as not to disturb him.  While he was awake, he tended to monopolize any conversation, rattling on non-stop in a voice that demanded careful attention.

 

You might think we’d say, “Who needs a guest like that?  We’ll be glad to see him go and we’ll never invite him back.”  You might think that, but you’d be wrong.  You see, he is just three years old and he calls me “Grandpa.”  And he can come over and disassemble the house any time he wants.

     Why would one sacrifice – why would one give – when looking out for Number One is what most of us would really rather do?  I think Bill Moore from Asheville, North Carolina reveals the answer for us.  The answer…is love.  We sacrifice for love.

   I believe this brings to mind the passage we read from the gospel according to Luke.  Jesus makes his triumphal ride into Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday on the back of a colt amid pomp and circumstance.  People line the road, place their garments in the street, wave palm branches and shout, “Hosanna!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest!”

     Now from our vantage point, nearly 2000 years on this side of the cross, we are well aware of the fate that lay in store for Jesus in Jerusalem.  He would see the crowds turn against him and he would see his closest friends abandon him.  He would suffer brutal beatings and he would suffer death by crucifixion.  Yet the fact of the matter is, Jesus had a pretty good idea as to the fate that would befall him as well.  We can’t help but ask the question, “Why?  Why on earth would Jesus ride into Jerusalem in full knowledge of the suffering he would face?  Why on earth would Jesus ride into Jerusalem in full knowledge of the sacrifice he would ultimately make?”  There can be no other answer…but love.  Jesus made his sacrifice out of his love for humanity.  Jesus made his sacrifice out of his love for you and me.

     The sacrifice Jesus made changed the course of history.  For through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross, God established a new covenant with humanity.  The old covenant – the covenant of law – was fulfilled in Jesus Christ.  The new covenant he established is a covenant of grace and mercy.

     As Christians, we are under this new covenant of grace and mercy.  That does not mean that the old covenant is abolished – that the laws of God in the Old Testament are meaningless to us.  But what it does mean is that because of the covenant established through Christ’s sacrifice, now there is forgiveness…thanks to the grace of God.

     So what exactly is the grace of God?  I recently came across an interesting analogy written by a minister who was trying to reach the younger generation.  He says that grace is like the System Restore feature on the Windows Millennium Edition of your computer.  How does it work? Let’s say you’ve had a crash on your computer today.  You’re not a computer wizard – no one in your family works for the Geek Squad – so you don’t know how to recover the last week of financial information you entered, or the documents you’ve saved, or even your son’s English paper.  What you need is a restoration of your system.

     With the System Restore feature on your computer, all you have to do is specify the date to which you want your computer reset.  Almost like a time machine, that’s exactly what your computer does.  Your computer is returned to its previous stable state.  It almost sounds theological doesn’t it?  System Restore…now that’s grace!

     When a person works an eight-hour day and receives a fair day’s pay for his or her time, that is a wage.  When a person competes with an opponent and receives a trophy for his or her performance, that is a prize.  When a person receives appropriate recognition for long service or high achievement, that is an award.  But when a person is not capable of earning a wage, and can win no prize, and deserves no award – yet receives such a gift anyway – that is what we call grace.

Grace is defined as unmerited favor.  Again, grace is defined as unmerited favor.

   J.I. Packer is a retired professor of theology at Regent College in Vancouver, British Columbia.  Kevin Dill says that if he’s a Canadian, he can’t be all bad!  In his book Knowing God, he takes an interesting look at the concept of grace.  Listen to what he has to say:

It is commonplace in all the churches to call Christianity a religion of grace.  It is a truism  of Christian scholarship that grace, far from being an impersonal force – a sort of celestial electricity received like a battery charge by plugging in to the sacraments – is a personal activity…God operating in love toward people.

 

It is repeatedly pointed out in books and sermons that the Greek New Testament word  for grace (charis), like that for love (agape) , is a wholly Christian usage, expressing a notion of spontaneous, self-determined kindness which was previously quite unknown to Greco-Roman ethics and theology.  It is a staple diet in the Sunday school that grace is God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.  And yet, despite these facts, there do not seem to be many in our churches who actually believe in grace.

     Did you catch that last line?  “And yet, despite these facts, there do not seem to be many in our churches who actually believe in grace.”  What on earth does that mean?  How could anyone not believe in grace?  The fact of the matter is, that question is not so shocking.  For in order to believe in grace, one must necessarily accept a small progression of other facts as well.

     For example, in order to believe in grace, one must first accept the fact that one is a sinner.  Yet many modern men and women are convinced that, despite all their little peccadilloes – drunkenness, gambling, reckless driving, promiscuity, black and white lies, unscrupulous business practices, pornography, what have you – in spite of these things, people still believe they are, at heart, thoroughly good folks.  The thought of themselves as creatures fallen from God’s image, rebels against God’s rule, guilty and unclean in God’s sight, fit only for God’s condemnation…never even enters their heads.  Yet in order to believe in grace, that’s the first thing we have to believe.  To believe in grace, we must first believe we need it.

     In order to believe in grace, one must also believe in the retributive justice of God.  We often times say, “If God is really a God of love, how could he punish anyone?”  Of course, that’s not scriptural, but that’s the way we try to rationalize our way around things.  Yet God would not be true to himself unless he did punish sin.  We must come to realize that sinners – like us – deserve God’s condemnation before we can begin to believe in grace.

     In order to believe in grace, one must believe in what we might call the spiritual impotence of humanity.  Ancient pagans thought they could appease God by offering tremendous gifts and sacrifices.  Perhaps we think we can appease God as well through churchmanship or morality.  For example, back in the 1930s, one man paid to build the massive East Liberty Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh all by himself.  Some call that church “Mellon’s Fire Escape.”  Yet in order to believe in grace, we must first believe that mending our relationship with God – that regaining God’s favor after having once lost it – is beyond the capacity of any one of us.  Restoring our relationship with God is only possible through Jesus Christ.

     And finally, in order to believe in grace, one must first accept the sovereign freedom of God.  The point is that God owes us nothing.  Grace is only grace if it comes from a God who is free to choose otherwise.

     So I ask you now: “Do you believe in grace?”  If you believe that you are a sinner, that you deserve God’s condemnation, that you can do nothing to merit God’s favor, and that God is free to do with you as he chooses, then perhaps you do believe in grace.  If you believe otherwise, then perhaps what you believe in is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer referred to as cheap grace.  The grace of God in Christ is anything but cheap.  The grace of God in Christ…is nothing short of amazing.

     Yet one more thing still needs to be said.  Christians are often criticized as being hypocritical.  Outsiders see Christian foibles and imperfections and think to themselves, “Hah!  Christians are no better than anyone else!  And that’s why I don’t want to be one.”  They see our imperfections and criticize the Christian faith in general.  To that, I say this.  Christians are not perfect.  Christians, too, are in need of the grace of God.  Being a Christian is a process of growth that takes a lifetime to complete.  The question is, “Who can really change?”  Who can really be transformed by the grace of God?  Our pride has a tendency to get in the way.  With that in mind, I want you to listen to part of an article that was written by Phillip Yancey in Christianity Today in October of 2001.  He writes:

I have never been especially patriotic.  I’ve travelled too much overseas, I guess, and have seen from afar the arrogance and insensitivity of too many Americans.  September 11^th changed my attitude.  I choked up when Congress sang “God Bless America,” and when the Buckingham Palace guard played “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and when firemen told corny stories about their fallen comrades, and when a solitary bagpiper played “Amazing Grace” in Union Square, and when hundreds of New Yorkers walked around dazed with photos of their missing loved ones…I felt a sudden surge of loyalty and unity with my country that was new to me.  Scot Simon put words to it in a National Public Radio editorial after the World Trade Center attacks.  He said, “Patriotism is not based on a blind belief that the United States has no need to change.  God knows we need to change in many ways.  Our love for America rests on the belief that the changes needed are more likely to occur here than anywhere else in the world.”

   Perhaps we could say the very same thing about people who encounter the amazing grace of God.  They are not perfect; they still need to change.  It’s just that the changes needed are more likely to occur in them than they are in anyone else in the world.  Amen.  

 

    

 

3-14-2010 Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

A BOX OF CHOCOLATES

     Back in 1994, Tom Hanks starred in a movie called Forrest Gump.  Can you believe that movie was made 16 years ago?  Anyway, the movie begins with an adult Forrest Gump sitting on a bench at a bus stop, talking to people who are at the bus stop with him.  At one point he says to a woman, “My momma always said, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you’re gonna get.’”  He ends up telling his whole life story to the people gathered there.

   Forrest Gump was a little bit slow mentally, and early on he was a little bit slow physically, as well, because of these leg braces he had to wear.  But Forrest got fast – so fast that he ended up playing football for Coach Bear Bryant at the University of Alabama.  He became a hero in the Viet Nam War.  He inadvertently discovered the Watergate break in.  He became a world champion ping-pong player.  He became a multi-millionaire in the shrimp business.  And finally, he ended up marrying his life-long love, Jenny – who later died of AIDS – and raising their son, who was also named Forrest Gump.   

     The movie seems to wrestle with the question of fate.  Do we have a destiny in life that is guided by God, or do the things that happen to us simply happen by chance?  Forrest himself attempts to answer that question as he stands by his wife’s grave near the end of the movie.      He says:

You died on a Saturday morning.  And I had you placed here under our tree.  And I had that house of your father’s bulldozed to the ground.  Momma always said dyin’ was a part of life.  I sure wish it wasn’t.  Little Forrest, he’s doing just fine.  About to start school again soon.  I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day.  I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day.  Teaching him how to play ping-pong.  He’s really good.  We fish a lot.  And every night we read a book.  He’s so smart, Jenny.  You’d be so proud of him.  I am.  He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can’t read it.  I’m not supposed to, so I’ll just leave it here for you, Jenny.  I don’t know if Momma was right, or if – if it’s Lieutenant Dan.  I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re  all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I – I think maybe it’s both.  Maybe both is happening at the same time.  I miss you, Jenny.  If there’s anything you need,   I won’t be far away.

     Do we have a destiny in life that is guided by God, or do the things that happen to us simply happen by chance?  Forrest Gump says, “Maybe it’s both.”  Of course, at the end of the movie, as Forrest watches little Forrest ride off on a school bus, a feather rises up from the ground and floats around “…accidental-like on a breeze.”  We’re left to draw our own conclusion.

     Those who believe that the things that happen to us simply happen by chance could be advocates of what we call “process theology.”  I had a class in seminary called God and the Problem of Belief.  It was taught by a professor named Burton Cooper.  Dr. Cooper was a wonderful man and one of the finest professors I ever had, but he had endured tremendous suffering in his life.  He and his wife lost two children to a rare heart disease.  In the aftermath of their suffering, his wife turned to the bottle, while Dr. Cooper turned to his books.

     Dr. Cooper taught us process theology.  At the heart of process theology is the belief that God is not sovereign, rather, God is a heavenly persuader.  For example, if two trains are on a track and are headed toward each other at 90 miles an hour, the question is asked, “Could God stop the trains?” To say that God is sovereign is to say that God is all-powerful, all-knowing and present everywhere.  If you believe that God is sovereign, you have to say that God could stop the trains.  God may not stop the trains, but a sovereign God could.  WHY God doesn’t stop the trains is another question entirely.

     Process theology says that God could not stop the trains.  Process theology says that God is not sovereign, rather, God is a heavenly persuader.  In other words, God wants our lives to    go well and God wants us to do right, but God is powerless to impact the outcome one way or the other.  Thus, if you believe the things that happen to us simply happen by chance, you may have found your theology.  You just might be a process theologian.   

   I must confess that I am not a process theologian.  I was trained as a neo-orthodox systematic theologian, although in my old age I’ve become more of a modern orthodox systematic theologian because I am more enamored with God’s immanence that I am with God’s transcendence.  I’ll explain what that means some other time.  The point is this.  I believe our lives are guided by God.  I believe God is sovereign and I believe God has the power to impact an outcome one way or another.              

     Case in point, let’s take a look at the passage we read from the gospel according to Luke.   The passage is famously known as The Parable of the Prodigal Son.  Actually, however, my study Bible calls this passage The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother.  I like that title better because this passage isn’t just about the prodigal son.  The older brother is significant in   this passage as well, as we shall soon see.

     You know the story, I suspect.  There was a man who had two sons.  The younger of the   boys went to his father to ask for his inheritance.  It was like he was saying, “Dad, give me   what you’re gonna give me anyway when you die.  I don’t necessarily want you to die now,    but I do want half of what you have.”  I don’t think I’d be too pleased if one of my boys said   that to me.  But then again, it’s not like they’d get a whole lot!  Like most men my age, I’ m worth a whole lot more dead than I am alive.

   So the younger brother asked for his share of his father’s estate.  And his father gave it to him.  Then the young man went out and squandered his inheritance on dissolute living. When he had spent every dime, a famine hit the land and the young man ended up feeding pigs, only he ate worse than they did.  The young man had hit what we proverbially call “rock bottom,” a state of being that usually gets one’s attention. 

     The question we have to ask here is this.  Do we have a destiny in life that is guided by God, or do the things that happen to us simply happen by chance?  In other words, did God cause the young man to suffer, or was it just an accident?  I don’t think I want to say that God caused the young man’s suffering.  Perhaps we could say he brought it on himself.  Yet on the other hand, one must prune a bush to enable it to grow, don’t you think?  Maybe we could say that God allowed the young man’s suffering to bring about a greater good.  Because the fact of the matter is, that is exactly what happened.   

     The prodigal son had squandered his inheritance on dissolute living and found himself in the midst of a famine.  He was eating worse than the pigs he was feeding.  Thus, he resolved to return to his father, confess his sin, and hope to live as one of his father’s hired hands. 

       Confession isn’t easy though, is it?  I’m reminded of a “Calvin and Hobbes” comic strip.  Calvin is a little boy with what we might call an active imagination.  Hobbes is his stuffed tiger who comes to life as his imaginary friend.  In one particular comic strip, Calvin turns to Hobbes and says, “I feel bad that I called Susie names and hurt her feelings.  I’m really sorry I did that.” 

     Hobbes replies, “Maybe you should apologize to her.”  Calvin thinks about that for a moment, then responds, “I just keep hoping there’s a less obvious solution!”  Like I said, confession isn’t easy.  We, too, might find ourselves looking for a less obvious solution.  Yet confession is how we rectify things with others, and confession is how we rectify things with God, for confession always precedes repentance.

   The prodigal son resolved to return to his father and confess his sin.  Yet what did the father do when he saw his son in the distance?  He ran to the boy, threw his arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.  He put a robe on his back, a ring on his finger, and sandals on his feet.  Then he threw the feast to end all feasts to welcome the prodigal home.  In short, the father forgave his son, so deep was his love for his boy. 

     The parable of the prodigal son is meant to illustrate the way God looks at us.  God is more than willing to forgive us, so deep is his love for us.  I do think confession is a part of this, but the fact remains the same.  Heaven and earth rejoice when a wayward son or daughter returns to God the Father.  And God is not above making our circumstances such that we feel compelled to do just that.

   Yet there remains the older son, does there not?  The older son’s loyalty to his father never wavered.  In fact, when the prodigal son returned, the older son was where he always was – working in the fields.  When he found out from a servant that his brother had returned and that his father had thrown a party for him, he was outraged.  In fact, the father actually had to come out to his older son and explain himself to him.

     Let’s take a moment to examine theologically what might have been going on in the mind    of the older son.  He was loyal to his father.  He obeyed his father’s rules.  He never strayed, he never asked for his inheritance, and he never had a party thrown for him.  Yet there was one important lesson he had not yet learned. 

     Frankly, this is quite similar to a lot of people in the church.  There are a lot of people in the church who are steadfastly loyal to God.  They obey their heavenly Father’s rules.  They never stray, they never ask for anything outlandish, and they never have a party thrown for them. Then there’s all this fuss about – and focus upon – the people who are not there.  Perhaps they sometimes feel as if they’re being taken for granted.  Is there one important lesson that they might not have learned yet, either?      

   What is the point of our faith?  What is the point of our spirituality?  Aside from the inheritance of eternal life, the point of our faith and the point of our spirituality is this.  We are called to love the Lord our God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our strength and with all our mind.  And, we are called to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.  But what does it really mean to love our neighbors?

     We tend to believe that love is a feeling.  In other words, when we love someone, we believe we ought to feel warm and fuzzy about them inside.  Listen to this.  Teresa of Avila once went through a particularly dry period in her spiritual life.  No matter how hard she tried, she simply could not feel the presence of God.  What she ultimately came to discover was that her relationship with God was not based on a feeling, rather, it was based upon her ability to will the good.  It occurs to me that maybe – just maybe – that’s what love really is as well.  When we love someone, we don’t always feel warm and fuzzy inside.  But if we truly love them, we do will good for them.  To love someone is to will or to want what’s best for them.

     The older brother was faithful to his father.  He followed all the rules.  He did what he was told.  But he had not learned how to love.  He was, in short, self-centered.  To love is to become other-centered.  To love someone is to wish them well, not just to feel good inside ourselves.  Again, to love someone is to wish them well, not just to feel good inside ourselves.  Had that older boy truly loved his little brother, he would have been pleased with what his father had done for him.  Love was the lesson he had not yet learned.  And by the providence of God, he was given an opportunity to learn it.

     Truth be told, we don’t know exactly what happened to the older brother.  Did he stay outside and pout, or did he go inside the house to where the party was?  Did he die a crusty, old man who resented his brother to the bitter end, or did he learn the lesson of love God presented to him?  Did he continue to focus upon his own wants and needs, or did he finally come to want what was best for his brother?  Unfortunately, we’ll never know.

     In the movie Forrest Gump, there is a scene where Jenny and Forrest are talking.  Jenny says to Forrest, “Were you scared in Viet Nam?”  Forrest replies:

Yes.  Well, I – I don’t know.  Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out…and then it was nice.  It was like that just before the sun goes to bed down on the bayou.  There was always a million sparkles on the water, like that mountain lake.  It was so clear, Jenny, it looked like there were two skies, one on top of the other.  And then in the desert, when the sun comes up, I couldn’t tell where heaven stopped and the earth began.  It’s all so beautiful.

     Forrest Gump’s mother was right.  “Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you’re gonna get.”  But life is also indescribably beautiful, and I believe with all my heart that God is firmly in control. Why not enjoy the ride and maybe even learn to love one another along the way?  Amen. 

          

 

3-7-2010 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THE UNION OF LIKENESS

   I recently came across a very interesting survey conducted by an outfit called the Pew Research Center.  The Pew Research Center calls itself a “nonpartisan think tank that provides information on the issues, attitudes and trends shaping America and the world.”  I’d say it’s pretty much like a Gallup Poll.  Anyway, the survey I came across seeks to answer the question, “How millennial are you?”  How millennial are you?

     I’m going to ask you the questions from the survey, even though I don’t know exactly how to score it.  I can tell you how I came out, because I found it rather amusing.  My children will not be surprised by how millennial I am.  Or, perhaps I should say, my children will not be surprised by how millennial I am NOT.  In any case, here are the questions.

1.      In the past 24 hours, did you watch more than one hour of television programming, or not?  The answer is yes or no.

 

2.      In the past 24 hours, did you read a daily newspaper, or not?  Again the answer is yes or no.

 

3.      In the past 24 hours, did you play video games, or not?  The answer is yes or no.

 

4.      Thinking about your telephone use, do you have (a) only a landline in your home, (b) only a cell phone, or (c) both a landline and a cell phone.

 

5.      In the past 24 hours, about how many text messages – if any – did you send or receive on your cell phone?  The answer is (a) no text messages on your cell phone in the last 24 hours, (b) 1 to 9 text messages, (c) 10 to 49 text messages, or (d) 50 or more text messages.

 

6.      How important is being successful in a high-paying career or profession to you personally?  The answer is (a) one of the most important things, (b) very important but not the most important, (c) somewhat important, or (d) not important at all.

 

7.      Do you think people of different races marrying each other is (a) a good thing for society, (b) a bad thing for society, or (c) doesn’t make much difference for society.

 

8.      In the past 12 months, have you contacted a government official, or not?  This contact could have been in person, by phone, by letter, by sending an e-mail, or by posting a message on their website or social networking page.  The answer is (a) yes, I contacted a government official in the past 12 months, or (b) no, I did not contact a government official in the past 12 months.

 

9.      Have you ever created your own profile on any social networking site such as My Space, Facebook or LinkedIn, or haven’t you done this?  The answer is (a) yes, I    have created a profile, or (b) no, I have not created a profile.

 

10.  How important is living a very religious life to you personally?  The answer is (a) one of the most important things, (b) very important but not the most important, (c) some-what important, or (d) not important at all.

 

11.  Were your parents married during most of the time you were growing up, or not?  The answer is (a) married, or (b) not married.

 

12.  Do you have a tattoo, or not?  The answer is yes or no.

 

13.  Do you have a piercing in a place other than your earlobe, or not?  Again the answer is yes or no.

 

14.  In general, would you describe your political views as (a) conservative, (b) moderate, or (c) liberal.

     Like I said, I don’t know exactly how to score this test.  But the higher your score is, the more you have in common with members of the Millennial generation.  The average Millennial, born after 1981, scores a 73 or higher.  The average Generation Xer, born between 1965 and 1980, scores between 33 and 72.  The average Baby Boomer, born between 1946 and 1964, scores between 11 and 32.  And the average, what they call Silent Generation member, born between 1928 and 1945, scores between a 4 and a 10.  I scored a 3!  Like I said, I’m sure my score does not surprise my children.  I guess what that quiz is saying to me is that I am not a Millennial.  I am what you might call prehistoric! 

    Now I’d feel bad about that if I cared about being hip or progressive or modern.  Truth be told, I don’t really care about such things.  In fact, maybe I’ve actually got reason to feel good about my score.  I’ve been reading a book of late entitled Pathways of Spiritual Living by a Duquesne and University of Pittsburgh grad by the name of Dr. Susan Muto.  She writes, “Discoveries by the differential sciences in physics, medicine and psychology mark progress, humanly speaking.  Yet experience tells us that this same progress may lead to spiritual regression.”  In other words, the more hip or progressive or modern we are, the less spiritual we tend to be.  Perhaps that’s because we become more self-reliant and less God-dependent.  In any case, Dr. Muto seems      to believe that the more hip or progressive or modern we are, the less spiritual we tend to be.

     Perhaps it’s time I invented my own little survey.  I could ask the question, “How spiritual are you?”  The survey might consist of questions like the following:

1.      How often do you read your Bible?  The answer is (a) I read my Bible on a daily basis,

(b) I read my Bible on a monthly basis, (c) I put the Bible on the coffee table when the

  minister comes by for a visit, (d) I don’t own a Bible, or (e) what is a Bible?

 

2.      How often do you worship God?  The answer is (a) I worship God on a weekly basis, (b) I worship God on a monthly basis, (c) I worship God at Christmas and at Easter,    (d) I can worship God just as well in nature as I can in a church, or (e) the golf course   is almost never busy on Sunday mornings!

 

3.      How often do you pray?  The answer is (a) I begin and end every day with prayer, (b)    I pray when I think of it, (c) I pray when I feel I need something from God, (d) I don’t pray, or (e) what’s prayer?

 

4.      What kind of fruit does the tree of your faith produce?  The answer is (a) I love God and neighbor and I always put them first, (b) I give of my time and financial resources when asked to do so, (c) I’m a pretty good person but I’m really busy a lot of the time, (d) God owes me, or (e) I don’t even like fruit!

   I could go on and on, I suppose, but I think you get the picture.  Perhaps Susan Muto is right.  The more hip or progressive or modern we are, the less spiritual we tend to be.  The more self-reliant we become, the less God-dependent we are.  So let’s take a little time to explore that last question from my spirituality quiz.  The question was asked, “What kind of fruit does the tree   of your faith produce?”  We will focus on that question because that’s exactly what Jesus was talking about in the passage we read from the gospel according to Luke.

   Jesus said, “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard.  One day he came looking for fruit on the tree and found none.  He said to the gardener, ‘For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree and I have gotten none.  Cut it down!  Why should it even waste the soil?’  The gardener replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year until I dig around the tree and fertilize it.  If it bears fruit next year, that’s all well and good.  If it does not, then you can cut it down.’”

     This passage is called “The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree.”  Truth be told, however, this story is more of an allegory than it is a parable.  A parable has a twist and a central meaning.   An allegory tends to have elements of the story that represent something else.  That’s what this particular story does.  In Jesus’ time, the owner of the vineyard was meant to represent God,    the gardener was meant to represent Jesus Christ, and the fig tree was meant to represent the Hebrew nation.  God loved and nurtured the Hebrew people, but they produced no fruit.  They did not do what God wanted them to do.  So God said, “Cut them down!  Why should they even live?”  Jesus then intervened.  He said, “Let me go to them and nurture them myself.  Then let’s see what kind of fruit they produce.”  Do you see how all the pieces of the story apply to something else?  That’s what an allegory does.

    Perhaps we could apply this allegory to our time as well.  God has loved and nurtured those of us who claim to be Christian.  God sent his Son to show us how to live.  Have we become so hip, progressive and modern that we have forgotten how to live a God-fearing life?  Have we become so “millennial” that we no longer produce the fruits of peace and love and harmony?  Have we become so busy in our lives that the church is something we do when we’ve nothing better to do?  Is Jesus’ allegory an allegory that speaks to us today?  

     Consider the Silent Reflection in your bulletins this morning.  It, too, comes from Susan Muto’s book, Pathways of Spiritual Living.  She writes:

God made us in his likeness, though we in our freedom may draw away from him in gestures of disobedience and prideful self-sufficiency.  Through the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the likeness between us is restored.  Though salvation is ours, though freedom is ours, the reality of our fallen condition means that the quest for holiness lasts a lifetime.

     We have fallen away from God through disobedience and prideful self-sufficiency.  Jesus Christ restores our relationship with God, but we have a little work to do in the meantime because we have a tendency to fall away.  Thus, our union with God is not in question.  We are one with God through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross.  So because of Jesus Christ, we are united with God.  It’s our disobedience and self-sufficiency that keep driving a wedge between us.

     St. John of the Cross addresses this phenomenon in his book The Ascent of Mount Carmel.

  He writes:

In discussing union with God, we are not discussing the substantial union which is always existing, but the union and transformation of the soul in God.  This union is      not always existing, but we find it only where there is likeness of love.  We call it “the union of likeness,” and the former “the essential” or “substantial union.”

     What St. John of the Cross is saying is this.  The goal of the spiritual life is to restore –  with God’s help – the union of likeness.  This union of likeness…is love.  As Scripture frequently reminds us, God is love.  And when we love, our union of likeness is restored.  We become more like God.  That, my friends, is the fruit our faith is meant to produce.

   Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have just discovered the secret to a thriving church in the 21^st century.  It’s all about the union of likeness with God.  In a nutshell, it’s all about love.  Back in the early days of the church, as recorded in the book of Acts, the first century church was thriving.  Why?  An early Christian apologist named Tertullian is credited with saying, “See how these Christians love one another.”  What he actually said was, “’Look,’ they say, ‘how they love one another, and how they are ready to die for one another, for we ourselves are readier to kill one another.’”  Tertullian was quoting Pagans in reference to Christians.  Even the Pagans noted how the Christians loved one another while they were at each others’ throats.  Christianity thrives – the church thrives – when Christians actually love one another.  Maybe that’s what we need to learn how to do again.  As Susan Muto put it, “…the quest for holiness lasts a lifetime.”

Holiness is never a task that is fully accomplished.

     Your church session cares deeply for this church.  That’s why our goal in the coming year is to build – or to rebuild – community in our church.  We want to conduct an every-member canvas.  We want to visit every member in this church to tell them that we care for them and that we want them to be a vital part of our community of faith.  Here’s where you come in.  We seek to put together a contingent of about 100 people going out as Jesus sent his disciples – you know, two by two – to visit every member of this church.  Yet before we can pull that off, we need to put together what we are calling a Church Revitalization Task Force.  Who wants to help?  Who wants to be a part of our Church Revitalization Task Force?  Don’t make me beg.  Come see me after church if this interests you at all.  I don’t want to twist people’s arms.  I want you to feel a sense of call in this.  I want you to feel an inner urgency to respond.

   Ultimately, I see us becoming a church with the union of likeness with God.  I see us becoming a church where people in the community will actually say, “See how those Presbyterians love one another, while we ourselves are ready to kill one another!”  I see us becoming a church that is not whole when members of the church are sick, or are suffering, or are absent from worship.  Can you envision a church like that?  And if you can, are you willing to help to do something about it?  After all, what better way to produce the fruits of faith than by God-blessed acts of human love?  Amen.           

 

2-28-2010 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

WHERE IS YOUR CITIZENSHIP?

     Our nation has learned some very valuable lessons in the years since the Viet Nam War.  I’m sure you’ve read of or heard about some of the soldiers who went overseas to fight in a war they didn’t necessarily understand – only to find themselves rejected upon their return by some of the very people they thought they were defending.  Today our nation is involved in a couple of wars that some people back and other people condemn but support for the young men and women who risk their lives in service to their country seems to be evident in both camps.  Case in point, listen to the following story that was written by a minister by the name of John Besore.  He writes:

I enjoy flying, and some things are humorous in the airport, while some things just annoy me – but then again, I am an old geezer.  When I flew to Kansas City last week, I was sit-ting in the airport waiting for the P.A. announcement that it was time to board.  Before that announcement came, some people rose up and stood near the ramp door.  I can only guess that they looked at their watches and it was getting close to the time of boarding.  Of course, when the announcement came, their seating assignments were such that they were not in the first group to board.  But still they had to stand near the door for some unknown reason, blocking others from getting to the door.  Did they think the plane was going to leave without them?

 

Then, when on the plane, getting to one’s seat is an experience because everyone in creation brings those luggage bag things on wheels which they stuff, beat and shove into the overhead bins which – of course – takes more time.  By the time you finally get to your seat and buckle the seat belt you’re ready for a “come to Jesus” moment.  Then when the plane lands and stops at the gate, everyone on the plane immediately stands up in the aisle, hoping to be the first one off the plane.  It’s as if the flight attendants are going to stop those people and say, “Sorry, you have to stay on the plane forever!”

 

I tell you those things to share with you something very cool which happened on the Kansas City flight.  There were three service people on the plane going home on leave after serving overseas.  When we got close to landing, a flight attendant got on the P.A. and asked if everyone would please stay seated so they could get off first, as their families were waiting for them.  When the plane got to the gate, everyone was quiet and remained seated.  When the three servicemen began going down the aisle, everyone started clapping, and kept on clapping, until they were off the plane.  Then, strangely, people got up in the aisle; no longer in a hurry and with a completely different attitude.

    Isn’t that a beautiful story?  It kind of restores your faith in human nature, doesn’t it?  We’ve developed a tremendous respect for the men and women who risk their lives in service to their country.  Perhaps that’s a part of what we call patriotism.

   Now listen to this.  My father-in-law is a true war hero.  He’ll be 85 years old in April.  He served in World War II and was a recipient of the Silver Star and the Purple Heart.  He was a 19-year-old boy when he left his home to serve his country.  He was a 21-year-old man when he returned.      

     He spent the bulk of his time in Italy.  One time, during a lull in a battle, he and his buddies were in a foxhole and they were bored.  So they started lobbing pebbles at one another’s helmets.  “Ping!” the sound could be heard when a pebble struck its target.  Ah, boys will be boys.  Then the bullets started flying.  Suddenly, my father-in-law felt a sharp pain in his side.  He turned and yelled at one of his buddies, “Hey!  Let me know when you’re gonna throw rocks at me!”  One of them cried out, “You’re bleeding!”  The pain he felt in his side was not a pebble.  A bullet had ricocheted off a rock behind him and had gone clear through his side.

     It wasn’t a major injury, so they patched him up and sent him back to his unit a couple days later.  Shortly thereafter, he and his unit were walking through a little town.  There was a dense fog in the air and they thought they were safe.  Suddenly the fog lifted and a German unit in a church tower riddled them with bullets.  Everyone was killed except my father-in-law.  He laid in the snow, bleeding.  In fact, it was probably the cold of the snow that kept him from bleeding to death.  I once asked him what he did while he was laying in the snow all day.  He said, “I prayed a lot!”  When darkness fell, he managed to crawl to safety.  He was pretty badly wounded and that was the end of the war for him.

     Now let’s fast-forward to the year 2009.  There aren’t that many World War II veterans left, so a group of Iowa V.F.W.s raised enough money to send some of them to Washington D.C. to see the World War II memorial.  My father-in-law was among those chosen to go.  The veterans were carted all over town in tour busses and shuttled from one sight to another in wheelchairs that were pushed by volunteers.  One afternoon they were in the Smithsonian.  There happened to be an elementary school group there at the very same time.  Someone explained to that school group that the men in the wheelchairs were World War II veterans.  Then one little boy walked over to those veterans and said, “Thank you for everything you did for us.”  And as the volunteers wheeled the veterans out of the room, the class stood as one and saluted them.

     How’s that for patriotism?  Patriotism, in my mind, has to do with love of one’s country     and support for those who risk their lives to serve it.  Patriotism does not mean that you blindly agree with everything your government does.  Patriotism does not mean that loyalty to your country has to supersede all of your other loyalties.  Nor does patriotism mean that you must     be swallowed up by a particular culture.   But patriotism does have to do with love of one’s country and support for those who risk their lives to serve it.

     Patriotism was strong for the people of Philippi in the passage we read from the book of Philippians as well.  In fact, they may have even gone a bit overboard with their patriotism, as we shall soon see.  Philippi was a small city in the southern part of Macedonia – what we call modern day Greece.  Philippi was founded in 356 B.C. by King Phillip II of Macedonia.  It was not a seaport – one of the reasons it never grew beyond 2000 people.  But it did have some gold mines and rich, fertile farmland, so that’s probably why the city was founded.  By the time our passage from the book of Philippians was written, there was not a whole lot left of Philippi.  But a Roman highway ran through it – the Via Egnatia – and they did have one major claim to fame.

     The battle of Philippi was fought there in 42 B.C.  Julius Caesar had just been assassinated.  There the army of the assassins – Brutus and Cassius – met the army of the avengers – Mark Antony and Octavian.  Antony and Octavian’s army was victorious, Octavian later changed     his name to Caesar Augustus, and the rest is history.  Some say this battle marked the true beginning of the Roman Empire.  In any case, the dying outpost of Philippi played a major role     in the formation of the Roman Empire, and they took great pride in that.  Their patriotism ran deep.  As one commentator put it, “Perhaps there was no city in the Empire which was more conscious of its dignity and importance than this outpost of Rome in Macedonia.”

     In fact, the Philippians were considered Roman citizens themselves.  That was a major part of their psychological makeup.  They wanted to dress like Romans.  They wanted a Roman form of government.  They wanted to worship the same gods the Romans worshipped.  And they wanted to hold the same values that other Romans held.  In short, they were completely wrapped up in Roman culture, so much so that it tended to supersede all of their other loyalties. 

   It was into this community that the Apostle Paul entered on his second missionary journey in 49 or 50 A.D.  According to the book of Acts, he was guided there by a vision of a man from Macedonia.  Accompanied by Silas, Timothy and Luke, Paul preached in Philippi.  There Paul baptized a woman named Lydia, a purple dye merchant, who invited the missionaries to stay in her home.  He also drove an evil spirit out of a slave girl there who worked as a fortune teller.  Her owners became angry because they couldn’t make money off of her any more.  Paul was thrown into prison but an earthquake shook the land and the prison doors flew open.  The jailer was ready to kill himself because he was afraid his prisoners had escaped, but Paul talked him out of it and the jailer became a Christian himself.  The point is that Paul formed a nice little Christian community there.

     It was to this little Christian community that Paul addressed his letter to the Philippians.  At the time of its writing, he was likely in captivity in Rome.  Like I said, he was addressing a very patriotic group of people.  They took great pride in their Roman citizenship and they wanted to be like the Romans in every way.  Paul wrote, “For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ.  I have told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears.  Their end is destruction; their god   is the belly; and their glory is in their shame.  Their minds are set on earthly things.  But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

     In other words, the Philippians, patriotic as they were, were more wrapped up in their culture than they were in their faith.  They were citizens of Rome, but Paul was calling them to be citizens of heaven first.  Again, they were citizens of Rome, but Paul was calling them to be citizens of heaven first.

     Could it be said of us that, while we are quite patriotic ourselves, we too are more wrapped up in our culture than we are in our faith?  There are those who might agree with that statement.  David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons are the authors of the book unChristian, which we studied in our Sunday school class about a year ago.  They point out that Christians are better known for what they stand against than they are for what they stand for.  Young people today are quick      to point out that they believe that Christianity is no longer at all what Jesus intended.  In their minds, it has become unChristian.  Thus, the title of the book. 

     For example, among young people outside the church, 84% say they know at least one committed Christian.  Yet just 15% believe the lifestyle of those Christians is any different than the lifestyle of anyone else.  To them, that makes Christians hypocritical.  Some would dismiss the label by saying, “Christians aren’t perfect, only forgiven.  Christians are sinners like anyone else.”  While that may be true, young adults have seen our lifestyles and heard our excuses and still they land on the label, “hypocritical.”  Could that be said of us?  Are our lifestyles different because of the faith we profess, or are we more wrapped up in our culture than we are in our faith?

     That’s why the Apostle Paul was critical of those who set their minds on earthly things.  To the Philippians he said in essence, “You may be citizens of Rome, and you may love all things Roman, but you are citizens of heaven first.”  I have a sneaking suspicion he just might say the very same thing to us.  We may be citizens of the United States and we may love all things American.  And that could imply that we are more wrapped up in our culture than we are in     our faith.  To that, Paul insists we are citizens of heaven first.  So I ask you now: WHERE IS YOUR CITIZENSHIP?    

     I think of a wonderful quip.  It says, “Growing old is mandatory.  Growing up is not.”  Yet in order to be citizens of heaven, I think we do have to grow up.  We have to mature as individuals, and we have to mature in the faith.  Living a mature life of faith is how we show the world that we are citizens of heaven.

     I can’t help but think of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Fifty years ago there were laws in the South that were simply discriminatory.  Martin Luther King stood up against the injustice of those laws.  Does that make him somehow unpatriotic?  I don’t think so.  I think it makes him a citizen of heaven first.  For you see, in order to be a citizen of heaven first, one must place the public welfare above the welfare of the individual.  One must place the kingdom of God above one’s own personal interests.  One must give of oneself in the name of Jesus Christ out of gratitude for all that God has done for us.

     You’ve heard me say this before.  After 50 years of studying the Bible, I think there are two major themes that seem to come through.  Number one, God is trying to get us to think of someone besides ourselves.  And number two, God wins in the end.  God always wins in the end.  To think of someone besides ourselves is to be a citizen of heaven.  And because God always wins in the end, being a citizen of heaven is a worthwhile thing to be.  Perhaps John F. Kennedy put it best when he said, “And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you;  ask what you can do for your country.”  That’s patriotism, and when done in the name of Jesus Christ, it’s putting heavenly citizenship first as well.   

     We are called to be citizens of heaven first.  So I ask you now, “Where is your citizenship?”  Amen.