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.    

 

3-20-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART II

    Stephen Ambrose is the author of a book entitled, Undaunted Courage.  In it he tells the story of an excursion led by a man named William Clark and a man named Meriwether Lewis in the year 1804.  Perhaps this excursion is more commonly known as the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  It was an exploration of what was then called the Louisiana Purchase and the Northwest Passage. 

    After two long years of battling nearly insurmountable odds – including hunger, fatigue, desertion, hostile enemies, illness and even death – the crew finally reached the headwaters of the Missouri River.  All their advance information had led them to believe that once they reached that point, they would face about a half day’s portage, reach the waters of the Columbia River, and then float gently into the Pacific Ocean.  Ah, they were well on their way to hero status.  The hardest part of the trip was behind them now…or so they thought.

    Meriwether Lewis left the rest of the expedition party behind to climb the bluffs that would enable him to see the other side.  There he was sure he would see the waters of the Columbia River that would gently carry them to the Pacific Ocean.  Imagine what he felt when he saw not the gentle, sloping valley he expected.   Instead, he was the first non-Native American to    lay eyes on the Rocky Mountains!    

    I can almost picture Meriwether Lewis turning and dropping to his seat on the ground.  Then he motions to the rest of his party to stay behind a little longer while he tries to figure out how to break the news.  “Hang on a minute, guys,” he says.  “Don’t come up just yet.  I…I have a little surprise for you.”   

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only   to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  While the Lewis and Clark Expedition crew was hoping for a downstream ride, they found that they still had to climb the highest mountain of all. 

    I believe there’s someone in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew who might have experienced a similar feeling.  Matthew calls him a rich young man.  Mark just calls him a rich man, while Luke calls him a rich young ruler.  In any case, here we encounter a man who seems to have it all.  He has wealth, he has power, he has youth…perhaps he even has fame.  Yet somehow there’s something missing from his life, and he seems to be painfully aware of the void.  In the midst of his opulent lifestyle, he still found himself yearning for life.

    Thus, the rich young ruler approached Jesus as he taught in the region of Judea. “Teacher,” he said, “what good deed must I do to inherit eternal life?”   Now before we go on, I think we need to take a moment to unpack just exactly what this rich young ruler is asking of Jesus. He appears to be in search of eternal life.  Yet perhaps that doesn’t mean what it would seem to mean on the surface.  In other words, perhaps he isn’t really asking about what we might call heaven.      

    The Greek word translated life here is zoane.  What that literally means is life: more specifically, it means the life of believers which proceeds from God and Christ.  What proceeds from God and Christ?  The Holy Spirit proceeds from God and Christ.  In other words, perhaps what this rich young ruler is really looking for a Spirit-filled life.  He’s looking for a life of holiness.  He’s in search of inner peace.  He knows that somehow, something is missing from his life. The question he literally might have been asking himself is this: “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?”  That might be a good question for us as well. “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?”

    The rich young ruler was yearning for life.  He was in search of inner peace.  Thus, he said to Jesus, in essence, “What good deed must I do in order to inherit inner peace?”  He was looking for a magic bullet.  Perhaps he thought if he just said the right prayer, or gave a little something   to the right charity he would find that which he sought.  “What good deed must I do?” he asked.  “What good deed must I do?” 

    Jesus knew immediately what the problem was.  It was not a DEED that was going to save him.  It was not a DEED that was going to bring him inner peace.  Still, Jesus strung him along for a moment or two.  He gave the young man the typical rabbinic answer: “You shall not kill, you shall not steal, you shall not commit adultery…you know, follow the Ten Commandments.”

The young man replied, “All these I have done since my youth.  What do I still lack?”

    Then Jesus got to the heart of the matter.  He said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  Let’s take a moment to unpack that statement as well.  “If you wish to be perfect,” Jesus said.  None of us are perfect.  None of us can be perfect, and perhaps we don’t even want to be.  As someone once said, “There was only one perfect man in the history of the world, and look what they did to him!”  Perhaps the word “perfect” is not the best translation here.   

    The Greek word translated perfect here is telios.  It means literally, having attained your true purpose. So perhaps a better way to look at what Jesus really said to the man is this: “If you wish to attain your true purpose in life, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

    This is not to say that wealth – or the possession of it – is bad.  The issue was not how much money this rich young ruler had.  The issue was its priority.  Apparently his wealth was the central focus of his life.  It was what he leaned on for security.  It was what gave him his identity.  Thus, it simply had to go.  To have inner peace, to attain your true purpose, and to live a Spirit-filled life…is to lean on God for your security and for your identity.  God becomes your top priority, for where your treasure is…there will your heart be also.

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only   to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  This rich young ruler truly believed that he had followed Old Testament law to the letter. He thought the worst of the journey was over.  Now he was looking for that gentle passageway that would float him down to inner peace.  What he found instead was the Rocky Mountains.  What he found instead was that the worst was yet to come.  The rich young ruler was being asked to give up that which he valued most.  He was being called to relinquish that which he believed gave him his security and his identity.

    As I said last week, we want our faith to bring us joy and happiness and an absence of pain.

We want God to help us live fulfilling and comfortable lives.  Our deepest desire seems to be reaching the splendor and grandeur of Easter without the desolation and heartache of Good Friday.  Yet the season of Lent – that season in which we find ourselves now – never fails to take us through Good Friday before we get to Easter. 

    In the season of Lent, we are invited to examine biblical stories that evidence waiting and yearning. Stories of waiting and yearning in Lent and Holy Week are laced with strange mixtures of excitement on the one hand and fear on the other; success on the one hand and failure on the other; loyalty on the one hand and betrayal on the other; affirmation on the one hand and denial on the other; life on the one hand and death on the other.  Thus, perhaps we could say that 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. We should be asking ourselves questions like the following:

-          Do I ever feel like I am in a wilderness?

-          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?

-          Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

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

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

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

-          And then, of course, there’s the question of the day: What do I need to allow to die in   me in order to be closer to God?  Again: What do I need to allow to die in me in order     to be closer to God?

    Jesus said to the rich young ruler, “If you wish to be perfect – if you wish to be fulfilled and   to find inner peace – then go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  Jesus was calling upon that young man to give up that which he valued most; to sacrifice what he perceived to be his security; to surrender what he had come to believe was his identity.  In other words, something needed to die in him in order for him to be closer to God.  While he thought the worst of the journey was over when he managed to obey the Ten Commandments, he found that his journey was only beginning. Upon hearing Jesus’ suggestion, what did the rich, young ruler do?  He turned and walked away because he thought the sacrifice was just too great.

    What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only    to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead?  What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come?  Let’s go back to the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  Expecting a gentle stream that would lead to the Pacific Ocean, they found the Rocky Mountains staring them in the face.  It had to be incredibly disheartening for each and every one of them.

    Crossing the Rocky Mountains, however, would come to be the supreme achievement of the entire trip.  The challenge would call forth tremendous stamina, creativity and perseverance.  It would lead them to spectacular sights and unforgettable memories.  It would build tremendous confidence in them because once they had tackled the Rocky Mountains, they would know they could tackle almost anything.  What they perceived to be sacrifice at the time would ultimately lead to their greatest achievement of all.  

    The word “sacrifice” comes from the Latin words sacer and facere.  Sacer means “holy,” while facere means “to make.”  Thus, in its original context, the word “sacrifice” literally meant, “to make holy.” For the rich young ruler, it was his wealth that was getting in the way.  It was his wealth that kept getting between him and God.  While he was yearning for life, it was that which kept him from finding it.  If only he could have brought himself to sacrifice that which he valued most – if only he could have brought himself to make holy his priorities – he would have found his inner peace.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow.”  Thus, instead of calling something a sacrifice, perhaps we could call it a miracle.  Think about that for a minute.  We are the only creatures on God’s green earth who can willingly do that which we don’t want to do.  That in itself is a miracle.  Thus, perhaps we could even say that sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible. Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.

    I grew up in a middle class Catholic neighborhood in Sioux City, Iowa.  Thus, many of my friends were Catholic, and they always gave up something for Lent.  They’d say to me, “What   are you giving up for Lent?”  I’d say, “Presbyterians don’t do that.”  Yet when I’d ask them 

 what they were giving up for Lent, they’d say things like broccoli or asparagus or meat loaf… things they didn’t like anyway. 

    Maybe we do need to sacrifice something for Lent – and not just the things we don’t like anyway.  Maybe we could sacrifice our insatiable pride.  Maybe we could sacrifice our need to always be right. Maybe we could sacrifice our desire to be in control. Maybe we could sacrifice our perpetual longing for more.  Maybe we could sacrifice…well, you fill in the blank.  Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.  When we, like the rich young ruler, find ourselves yearning for life…perhaps we should learn to sacrifice that which keeps getting in the way.  Amen.

 

3-13-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART I

      Will there be golf in heaven?  That’s a question that once was asked of the Rev. Dr. John Ortberg, the senior minister at the Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California.  Will there be golf in heaven?  The man who raised the question reasoned, “I think heaven will   be what makes me happy, and since golf makes me happy…there must be golf in heaven.”  Ortberg explained that while there will be joy in heaven, the man might have to grow in certain areas of his life in order to become the kind of person who experiences joy in God’s community.  Then Ortberg added, “The Bible also says that there will be no lying, no cheating, no weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth in heaven.  Without those things, how can there be golf?  Thus, there will be no golf in heaven.  Tennis, maybe, but no golf.”

     The issue of whether or not there will be golf in heaven aside, that man’s question is indicative of how many of us tend to approach the Christian faith.  We want our faith to bring us joy and happiness and an absence of pain.  We want God to help us to live fulfilling and comfortable lives.  Our deepest desire seems to be reaching the splendor and grandeur of Easter without the desolation and heartache of Good Friday.  In other words, while we may love the season of Advent, we’re not so sure about this season we call Lent.   

       In the season of Lent, we are invited to examine biblical stories that evidence waiting and yearning, but their character is very different from the stories of Advent.  Stories of waiting and yearning in Lent and Holy Week are laced with strange mixtures of excitement on the one hand, and fear on the other; success on the one hand, and failure on the other; loyalty on the one hand, and betrayal on the other; affirmation on the one hand, and denial on the other; life on the one hand, and death on the other.  Jesus’ popular Galilean ministry of teaching and healing takes a dramatic turn after his mountaintop visit with Moses and Elijah, when God affirmed for the second time that Jesus was his beloved Son.  When Jesus returned from the transfiguration, he found a confused band of disciples, frustrated at their own efforts to teach and to heal.  It was from that moment that he told them of his determination to go to Jerusalem to encounter certain death.  This turn of events, of course, marks the beginning of our Lenten season.

    The crowds were no longer as enamored with Jesus as they once had been because they did   not understand the direction he was heading.  Even his disciples objected to the thought of his death.  His followers were waiting and yearning, but they were waiting and yearning for the crowning of a warrior king who would squash the hated Romans, not for a docile king who would ride into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey and suffer an ignominious death.  The gospel according to Matthew places Jesus’ intent to go to Jerusalem immediately after the feeding of the five thousand, where waiting and yearning were literally expressed by their determination to make him their king.  But Jesus disappointed them…inviting them to let go of their illusions. 

    Our own Lenten stories are often filled with the same elements of failure, disillusionment and frustration.  We know all too well the agony of defeat.  We understand what it means to be hurt, or to be lonely, or to be afraid.  We get the fact that sometimes life doesn’t make any sense at all.  And all the while, we find ourselves yearning for life.  We find ourselves mysteriously unable to give up hope.

    The liturgical color for the season of Lent is purple.  In the season of Advent, the color purple was meant to signify royalty.  The color of purple in Lent is meant to characterize waiting and yearning in the experiences of repentance, suffering, death, relinquishment, brokenness, alienation, abandonment, loneliness, isolation and even conflict.  That’s why, in recent years, we’ve changed the Advent color to blue.  Thus, as we approach the season of Lent and our sanctuary is adorned with purple, we need to keep in mind what that color really means.  Lent, my friends, is a time for self-examination.  Perhaps there are even certain questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent…questions like the following:

-          Do I feel like I am in a wilderness?

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

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

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

-          With what am I struggling and in pain?

-          Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?

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

-          Do I doubt God, myself, or others?

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

-          And last but not least: Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?

    Jesus found himself facing temptation in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew.  After his baptism, he was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  There he fasted for forty days and forty nights, and at the end of his time in the wilderness, he was hungry.  I can well imagine that he was.  This, of course, is the time the    devil chose to strike.  “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “command these stones to become loaves of bread.”  Tempting a hungry man with food can be very effective.  For example, a man on a diet should avoid Pizza Hut, don’t you think?  It’s a temptation few have the power to resist.

Yet Jesus withstood the temptation.  “One does not live by bread alone,” he said, “but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”  Later the devil tempted Jesus to prove his divinity, and with worldly power, yet Jesus was up to both temptations.  Perhaps the key is revealed in his ability to resist the first temptation.  There Jesus said in essence that humanity lives by the word of God.

    Jesus lived by the word of God.  Jesus loved the word of God.  His secret to resisting temptation was that he was aware of something even better than what the devil had to offer.  That’s essentially what Harry Emerson Fosdick was saying in his book, The Manhood of the Master.  He wrote:

Only by a stronger passion can evil passions be expelled, and a soul unoccupied by positive devotion is sure to be occupied by spiritual demons. The safety of the Master in the presence of temptation lay in his complete and positive devotion to his mission: there was no unoccupied room in his soul where evil could find a home.  He knew what Dr. Chalmers called, “The expulsive power of a new affection.”  When Ulysses passed the Isle   of Sirens, he had himself tied to the mast and had his ears stopped up with wax, that he might not hear the sirens singing – a picture of many a man’s pitiful attempts after negative goodness.  But when Orpheus passed the Isle of Sirens, he sat on the deck, indifferent, for he too was a musician and could make melody so much more beautiful than the sirens, that their alluring songs were to him discords.  Such is the Master’s life of positive goodness: so full, so glad, so triumphant, that it conquered sin by surpassing it.

    Jesus was able to resist temptation because the temptation was really no temptation to him.   His music was better than the devil’s.  Or, perhaps better put, he knew of a better way of life than that which the devil had to offer.  That, my friends, is how we resist temptation as well.   The way of life we pursue as Christians is better than any temptation the world has to offer.   And we find this way of life revealed to us in the word of God.  That, my friends, is why we read the Bible.

    Yet the Bible is hard to understand in places, is it not?  Sometimes we don’t get anything out of it and wonder, “What’s the point?  Why read something that makes no sense?”  Listen now to a story that addresses that issue.  It’s about an old man who lived in the mountains of Kentucky with his grandson many years ago.

    Every morning, Grandpa was up early – sitting at the kitchen table – reading from his old, worn out Bible.  His grandson, who wanted to be like him in every way, tried to imitate him as best he could.  One day the grandson said, “Grandpa, I try to read the Bible like you, but I just don’t understand it…and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book.  What good does reading the Bible do anyway?”

    The grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and said, “Take this old wicker coal basket down to the river and bring it back full of water.”  The boy did as he was told, even though all the water leaked out before he could get back to the house.  The grandfather laughed and said, “You will have to move a little faster next time.”  Then he sent the boy back down to the river with the basket to try again. 

    This time the boy ran faster, but the old wicker basket was still empty by the time he got back to the house.  Out of breath, the boy told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in   a wicker basket. Then he went to get a bucket instead. The grandfather said, “I don’t want a bucket of water.  I want a basket of water.  You can do this.  You’re just not trying hard enough.”  Then he told the boy to go down to the river and try again. 

    By this time the boy knew it was impossible to bring back a basket of water from the river, and he was determined to prove that point to his grandfather.  Thus, he ran as fast as he could, but by the time he reached the house the basket was still empty.  Out of breath, he said, “See, grandpa?  It’s useless!”

    “You think it’s useless?” the grandfather said.  “Look at the basket.”  The boy looked at the basket and for the first time he realized that the basket looked very different than it did just a few moments before.  Instead of a dirty, old, wicker basket it was now a clean, old, wicker basket.  The grandfather said, “Son, that’s what happens when you read your Bible.  You might not understand or remember everything you read, but when you read it, it will change you…from the inside out.”

    Jesus was able to resist temptation because he lived by every word that came from the mouth of God.  The same can be true of us. When we discipline ourselves to live by the word of God    – when we strive to study the Bible and apply it to our lives – we find ourselves being changed from the inside out…even if we don’t notice any difference at the time.  Eventually we too will find ourselves playing much more beautiful music than the devil – or the world – has to offer.

    Lenten waiting and yearning culminates in Holy Week with the devastation of letting go in death.  Dread, not God, seems to hold the future.  No one can bypass Good Friday.  Walking through the valley of the shadow of death is a part of the pilgrimage.  Yet in the midst of death and disappointment, we still find ourselves yearning for life. The first step to life is finding a better way of life through the word of God.  The second step…well, we’ll talk about that next week.  Amen. 

 

3-6-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

LEAVING ROOM FOR GOD TO WORK: PART IV

     Once upon a time, in a small village in India, there was a poor farmer who owed a large sum of money to the village moneylender.  The time came for the debt to be paid, but the farmer did not have the money to pay it.  Now the farmer had a beautiful daughter whom the moneylender fancied a great deal.  Thus, he proposed a bargain with the farmer.

     The moneylender said that he would forgive the farmer’s debt if the farmer would consent to let him marry his daughter.  Both the farmer and the daughter were horrified by this proposal, so the moneylender suggested they let providence decide the matter.  He would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag.  The girl would then pick one of the pebbles from the bag.

    If she picked the black pebble, she would become the moneylender’s wife, and her father’s debt would be forgiven.  If she picked the white pebble, she did not have to marry the moneylender, and her father’s debt would still be forgiven.  If, however, she refused to pick a pebble at all, her father would be thrown into jail until he could pay off his debt.  I’ve never under stood how a person could pay off their debt in prison, but I suppose that’s beside the point.   

     The three of them were standing on a pebble-strewn path in the farmer’s field.  The moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles.  As he picked them up, the girl noticed that he had not picked up a white pebble and a black pebble.  He had picked up two black pebbles and put them into the bag.  He then asked the girl to pick a pebble from the bag.

     What would you do if you were that girl?  Now remember, this was a very different society than the society in which we live.  The girl had very little say in the matter.  Logical analysis of the situation produces three distinct alternatives: 1)  The girl could simply refuse to take a pebble.  2) The girl could show that there were actually two black pebbles in the bag and expose the moneylender as a cheat.  3) The girl could pick a black pebble and sacrifice herself for the sake of her father.

    What would you do if you were that girl?  Here’s what she did.  The girl reached into the bag and pulled out a pebble.  Without letting anyone see what color it was, she let the pebble slip out of her hand and onto the pebble-strewn path. It was lost in the midst of a thousand other pebbles.  “Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said.  “No matter.  If you look into the bag for the pebble that is still there, you will know immediately which pebble I chose.” 

    Since the remaining pebble was black, one had to assume that she picked the white one.  And since the moneylender dared not admit his dishonesty, the girl was able to transform what had seemed to be an impossible situation into an advantageous one.  This story is meant to illustrate the difference between what is called logical thinking and what is called lateral thinking.  Logical thinking is essentially thinking in terms of obvious solutions, while lateral thinking is more like thinking outside the box. 

     For example, say you have two coins that total 30 cents.  One of those coins is not a nickel.  What are the coins?  The answer is: a quarter and a nickel.  ONE of the coins is not a nickel, while one of them obviously is.  That’s what we call lateral thinking.  It’s like thinking outside the box.  The point I want to make with this story is this.  Regardless of whether you think logically or laterally, perhaps things are never quite as bad as they seem.  Again, perhaps things are never quite as bad as they seem.

     Early on in the book of Ruth, however, you might have had a hard time convincing Naomi that things are never quite as bad as they seem.  Naomi, her husband Elimelech, and their two sons Mahlon and Chilion, had migrated to the land of Moab when there was a famine in the land where they lived.  Not long after that, Elimelech died.  Mahlon and Chilion took Moabite wives, and shortly thereafter, Mahlon and Chilion died as well.  Naomi was thus bereft of both her husband and her sons.

   After this turn of events, Naomi decided to leave the land of Moab and return to her native Bethlehem.  She urged her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, to stay in Moab and find new husbands.  Orpah ultimately relented, but Ruth clung to her mother-in-law. Upon their arrival    in Bethlehem, Naomi was quickly recognized.  “Is this not Naomi?” her former friends and neighbors asked.  To which Naomi replied, “Call me no longer Naomi,” which meant sweet      or pleasant.  “Call me Mara,” which, of course, meant bitter.”

     Naomi wanted them to deem her bitter because she had gone away full and the Lord had brought her back empty.  Her faith in God’s benevolence had been shattered.  Her trust in the love of God had been crushed.  Her hope in God’s mercy had been obliterated.  While I can stand here and say, “Things are never quite as bad as they seem,” Naomi would have had a very different perspective.  In her mind, things were every bit as bad as they seemed. She had lost her husband, she had lost her sons, she had lost her faith in God…and in the process, I suspect, she had even lost hope for the future.

     Hope is a choice.  Hope is always a choice.  Ideally, we choose to believe that life isn’t over in spite of how dire things might look at the time.  After all, there are certain things that simply cannot be done until God shows up.  Thus, perhaps the real definition of faith has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Our hope in God might even provoke us to say, “I know things will be all right in the end.  Since it doesn’t feel very good right now, this must not be the end.”

    As we discussed several weeks ago, Ruth went to work to put food on the table for Naomi and herself.  She gleaned in the fields of a wealthy farmer named Boaz.  As it turned out, Boaz was a relative of Naomi’s.  Because Boaz treated Ruth so well, Naomi came to realize that the hand of God had not gone out against her.  Instead, the hand of God had gone before her to prepare the way.  In other words, it was not a mere coincidence that Ruth landed in the field of Boaz.  It was, instead, the providence of God.  Naomi came to realize that there is nothing in life beyond the scope of God’s influence.  She just had to leave a little room for God to work.              

     Yet this is where we encounter a profound question.  Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  As far as Naomi was concerned, should she simply sit back, let God work his magic, and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing?  Or, getting an idea as to what God’s plan really was, should she take a leap of faith and do her part to help God’s plan take shape? 

   Naomi opted to spring into action.  She formulated a plan whereby Ruth would make herself available to Boaz for marriage.  For Ruth and Naomi, this was clearly a leap of faith.  Of course, at this point, we might be inclined to ask, “Why doesn’t God lay out his plans more clearly?”  It would make life so much easier, don’t you think? I think the reason God doesn’t lay out his plans more clearly is because God never seems to solve a problem for us that we can solve ourselves.  Sometimes God just wants us to take a leap of faith.  No one describes that leap of faith any better than William Sloane Coffin does in his book, Credo.  He writes:

It is terribly important to realize that the leap of faith is not so much a leap of thought as of action.  For while in many matters it is first we must see, then we will act, in matters  of faith it is first we must do, then we will know; first we will be and then we will see.  One must, in short, dare to act wholeheartedly without absolute certainty…I love the recklessness of faith.  First you leap, then you grow wings. 

     First you leap, then you grow wings.  That’s exactly what Ruth and Naomi did.  Ruth made herself available to Boaz for marriage, and Boaz took the proverbial bait.  But it wasn’t quite as simple as that.  You see, according to ancient custom, there was someone else who was a closer relative who had, as it were, first rights of refusal.  So Boaz met with the man, together with ten of the leading citizens of Bethlehem, to discuss the matter of Ruth.  The man bowed out of the running, Boaz married Ruth, and the rest – as they say – is history. 

    The book of Ruth concludes with an extensive genealogy.  Now this is the kind of thing that, when reading the Bible, we might be prone to skim or to skip over entirely.  But in the book of Ruth, this particular genealogy is worth a closer look.  You see, Ruth and Boaz had a son named Obed.  Obed later had a son named Jesse, and Jesse later had a son named David.   This is the very same David who ultimately became king over all of Israel. This is the very   same David from whom Jesus Christ himself descended.  We can logically conclude that had Ruth and Naomi not taken their leap of faith, David would have never been born. Their conviction to leave room for God to work clearly impacted the course of history.  God uses seemingly insignificant pieces of the puzzle to accomplish significant things. 

    For example, have you ever heard of Edward Kimball?  Edward Kimball was a young man from Boston who taught Sunday school at his church because he felt called by God to invest himself in the lives of teenagers.  Then to get to know his students better, he would often visit them during the week where they lived or worked.

    One Sunday morning, a particularly challenging teenage boy showed up in his class.  The boy was seventeen years old, poorly educated, and prone to outbursts of anger and profanity.  Edward Kimball thought long and hard about how he might reach this boy.  One day, he decided to visit him at the shoe store where he worked for his uncle.  Kimball passed by the store once or twice, trying to get up the courage to speak to him.  What would he say, he wondered…and how would it be received?

    Finally, he entered the store and found the boy in the back, wrapping shoes and putting them on the shelves.  Kimball went to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder.  He then mumbled a few words about Christ’s love for him.  This marked the beginning of a relationship that would last for many years.  The young man’s life was literally turned around.  The young man’s name was Dwight L. Moody, and he became the most successful Christian evangelist of the nineteenth century.  As Paul Harvey might put it, “Now you know the rest of the story.”  But there’s more.

     In 1879, Dwight L. Moody was instrumental in the conversion of another young man named F.B. Meyer, who also grew up to become a minister.  Meyer subsequently mentored J.W. Chapman, who started an outreach ministry to professional baseball players.  One of the players he recruited was Billy Sunday. 

    Billy Sunday became an evangelist himself.  Some say he was the greatest Christian evangelist of the first two decades of the twentieth century in America.  He brought a man named Mordecai Ham to Christ, who began holding evangelistic meetings in Charlotte, North Carolina.  On one of the final nights, when Mordecai Ham was preaching, a gangly teenager came forward and responded to his call to “give your life to Christ.”  That gangly teenager was a boy named Billy Graham.     

    Do you ever feel as if you have nothing to offer, or that you are a nobody when it comes to doing great things for God?  Perhaps Edward Kimball felt the very same way.  He never did   anything spectacular or newsworthy.  He just showed up – out of faithfulness to God – for an   hour or two each week to teach the boys in his class.  Yet he did take something of a leap of faith, didn’t he?  He clearly left room for God to work.  And God used that seemingly insignificant piece of the puzzle to accomplish some very significant things.     

    Nobody is a nobody.  Each of us is a somebody.  And God can use us, if we’re willing to take a leap of faith.  The key, I think, has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Amen.

 

2-20-2011 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

LEAVING ROOM FOR GOD TO WORK: PART III

    My sister’s name is Lora and her husband’s name is Mike.  They met in college and were married in September of 1982.  They lived in a place called Manchester, Iowa for a time and   then they moved to Phoenix, Arizona.  Phoenix was a boom town in those days, so let’s just say they landed on their feet.  They became what sociologists used to call YUPPIES – you   know, Young Urban Professionals – and what other experts called DINKS.  That stood for Double Income, No Kids.  They were very happy with their situation and were quite content with their lifestyle.

    After about ten years of marriage, however, they decided they wanted to have kids.  They   tried and tried and tried to have a baby, but my sister simply was not able to carry a child to term.  Both of them went to the doctor for medical tests and it turned out my sister had some kind of chromosome deficiency.  Shortly thereafter, my mother called to tell me what had happened.  Now first, let me tell you something about my mother.  My mother is the consummate pessimist.  Her philosophy on life is somewhat akin to Murphy’s Law.  She truly believes that if something can go wrong, it will.  I blame my own brushes with insanity on her.

    So my mother called to tell me that my sister had some kind of chromosome deficiency.  Then she added, “They say it runs in families. You might have it too!” I said, “Mom! I have three kids! I don’t have a chromosome deficiency!”  Is it any wonder I have temporary bouts with insanity myself?

    After many years of trying to have a baby, my sister and her husband finally conceived.  They

had a little boy and they named him Griffin.  Griffin was a sweet little boy – albeit a tad bit small for his age.  But as you might suspect, Mike and Lora loved him with all their hearts.  He truly helped to make their family complete.

    One Sunday morning, when Griffin was about two years old, Lora was out in the back yard pushing Griffin on a swing.  He didn’t seem to be feeling well so she took him out of the swing and the two of them sat down on a blanket.  Then Griffin threw up and lost consciousness.  They knew something was terribly wrong so Mike and Lora began rushing him to the hospital.  On the way, Lora cried out to her husband, “Mike!  Griffin’s stopped breathing!” 

    They happened to be going past a fire station, so they quickly pulled up to the door.  God bless those firemen.  They called an ambulance and worked frantically to save that little boy’s life.  But in the end, it was all for naught.  Mike and Lora lost their little boy.  To this day, no one really knows why.

    Many people gathered around them to be with them in their grief.  Now I know that people mean well, but they always seem to feel as if they have to say something…even if it’s the worst possible thing they could say.  To Mike and Lora, people said things like, “You’re young.  You can always have another child,” or, “God just needed him more than you did,” or, “You know, God never gives us any more than we can handle.”

    God never gives us more than we can handle.  What is the source of that saying, and is it true?  The source of that saying seems to come from the Apostle Paul in the 13^th verse of the 10^th chapter of the first book of Corinthians. There Paul writes, “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with your testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.”  Over time, Paul’s words have been abbreviated to, “God will never give you any more than you can handle.”

    Like a lot of bumper-sticker theology, this promise appeals to our concerns about ourselves and our own well-being.  But I really don’t think that’s what Paul is trying to say.  What Paul is trying to say is closer to, “When a door closes, God always leaves a window open.”  The point is that it’s not God giving us these things to handle.  Instead, God is with us to help us get through them.  Because the fact of the matter is, some of the things that happen to us are well beyond our capacity to endure.

    Consider the story of Naomi we’ve been examining in the book of Ruth.  During a time of famine in the land, Naomi and her husband, Elimelech – together with their sons Mahlon and Chilion – migrated to the land of Moab where it was reported there was food.  Shortly thereafter, Elimelech died and Mahlon and Chilion took Moabite wives.  Then Mahlon and Chilion died as well, leaving Naomi bereft of both her husband and her sons.  How do you suppose Naomi would have reacted to someone saying to her, “God never gives you any more than you can handle?”  I suspect she would not have taken it well. 

   Naomi was bitter.  In fact, upon returning to her native Bethlehem with her daughter-in-law Ruth, Naomi told her friends to call her Mara.  Mara meant “bitter.”  Naomi wanted them to deem her bitter because she had gone away full and the Lord had brought her back empty. Her faith in God’s benevolence had been shattered.  Her trust in the love of God had been crushed.  Her hope for God’s mercy had been obliterated.  Dire circumstances have a tendency to bring that out in us.  When things don’t go our way we tend to blame God and raise questions about God’s character.  In times like these, we can lose the most precious thing of all.  In times like these, we can lose hope.

    Hope is a choice.  Hope is always a choice.  Ideally, we choose to believe that life isn’t over    in spite of how dire things might look at the time.  After all, there are certain things that simply cannot be done until God shows up.  Thus, perhaps the real definition of faith has to do with leaving room for God to work.  Our hope in God might even provoke us to say, “I know things will be all right in the end.  It doesn’t feel very good right now, so this must not be the end.”

    That’s what Naomi found.  Upon their arrival in Bethlehem – after Naomi had told her friends to call her bitter – Ruth and Naomi had to get on with the practical things of life.  How were they going to eat, for example?  Ruth volunteered to glean in the fields of some wealthy farmer.  Now   Naomi had a kinsman on Elimelech’s side, a wealthy landowner named Boaz.  In chapter two of the book of Ruth it says, “As it happened, Ruth came to the field belonging to Boaz.”  We noted that the Hebrew words for “As it happened” literally mean, “her chance chanced.”  The author of the book of Ruth is saying to us, “And her chance chanced that she gleaned in the field belonging to Boaz.”  It appears to have been nothing more than dumb luck…or was it? 

     Boaz treated Ruth quite well.  She returned to Naomi at the end of the day with far more barley than one might expect.  When Naomi found that Ruth had gleaned in the field of Boaz, her eyes were suddenly opened.  She came to realize that the hand of God had not gone out against her.  Instead, the hand of God had gone before her to prepare the way.

     Hope is in the details.  Naomi came to realize that God had been at work in her life all along.  Everything matters.  Everything that had happened was all a part of making God’s plan come to fruition.  God’s hand does not go out against us.  God’s hand goes before us to protect us.  There is nothing in life that is beyond the province of God’s influence.  Naomi just had to leave a little room for God to work.

     I think the question now is this: Does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God?  Again, does God exist to serve us, or do we exist to serve God? You see, Naomi had come to discover that God was, in fact, at work in her life.  Thus, should she simply sit back, let God work his magic and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing?  In other words, should    she rest secure that God was ready to serve her?  Or, getting an inkling as to what God’s plan really was, should she step out boldly in faith and do her part to help God’s plan take shape?

   Naomi opted to spring into action.  She gave explicit instruction to Ruth as to what she was to do.  She knew that Boaz would be sleeping on the threshing floor that night.  During the harvest season, men often slept on the threshing floor at night.  They were there to prevent thieves from coming in and stealing the grain.

       Ruth was told to clean up and to put on the very best clothes she had.  Then she was to go down to the threshing floor and keep out of sight.  After Boaz had finished eating and drinking, Ruth was to uncover his feet and lie down there.  And that’s exactly what she did.  Verse seven says that after Boaz had eaten and drunk, “and he was in a contented mood,” she did as Naomi instructed.  She uncovered his feet and laid down.

   Long about midnight, Boaz woke up with a start.  He sensed that someone was lying at his   feet.  He whispered, “Who are you?”  Ruth told him who it was, then she said, “Spread your cloak over your servant for you are next of kin.” This was Ruth’s not-so-subtle way of saying, “Will you marry me?” But there was a little more to it than that.  You see, Boaz was under no obligation in ancient Hebrew law to marry or take care of Ruth.  But you could say he might have had an obligation to take care of Naomi if she’d been a bit younger.  The next of kin was    to father a child with a kinsman’s widow that his name might be carried on.  Are you with me?  Ruth is essentially saying that she wants Boaz to marry her, and to take care of Naomi as well.

    Naomi sensed God’s plan and she took a leap of faith.  In fact, her bold risk will change the history of Israel as Ruth turns out to be the great-grandmother of King David and a part of the family tree of Jesus Christ himself.  They followed what they believed to be a word from God.  In their minds, God was the matchmaker here. 

     Why doesn’t God lay out his plan more clearly?  I think it’s because God never seems to   solve a problem that we can solve ourselves.  Sometimes God simply wants us to take a leap     of faith ourselves.  I think William Sloane Coffin describes this leap of faith very well in his book, Credo.  He writes:

It is terribly important to realize that the leap of faith is not so much a leap of thought     as of action.  For while in many matters it is first we must see, then we will act, in matters  of faith it is first we must do, then we will know; first we will be and then we will see.  One must, in short, dare to act wholeheartedly without absolute certainty…I love the recklessness of faith.  First you leap, and then you grow wings.         

     Perhaps the following story can show you what that means.  One night, a house caught on   fire and a little boy was forced to climb out a window and on to the roof.  His father stood on   the ground with outstretched arms and cried out to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you!” The father knew the boy had to jump to save his life, yet all the boy could see was smoke and fire and blackness.  As you can well imagine, the little boy was afraid to jump.  His father kept yelling, “Jump!  I’ll catch you!”  The boy protested, “But Daddy, I can’t see you!”  Finally his father replied, “I can see you, and that’s all that matters!”

   How’s that for a literal leap of faith?  The question was, “Does God exist to serve us, or do    we exist to serve God?”  Ladies and gentlemen, we exist to serve God.  We do not sit idly by,    let God work his magic, and reap the rewards of God’s omnipotent blessing.  Like Naomi, we leave room for God to work, and then we take a leap of faith.  We may not see or know exactly where that leap will take us, but we can always rest assured that God sees us.  Amen.