9-20-2009 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

MAN OVERBOARD!

    Last Sunday morning, we talked at great length about nametags.  Of course, it wasn’t really a sermon about nametags, was it?  It was really a sermon about discipleship.  The question was asked, “How can we identify a healthy disciple?”  The following criteria were presented:

1.      Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

 

2.      Who are you?  At the beginning of each day, do you wake up thinking you’ll have to go out and win your own share of security and significance, or can you truly say that those are priceless gifts you have already received?

 

3.      Who is your Barnabas?  Barnabas spoke up for the Apostle Paul and was something of a mentor to him.  Who is your spiritual mentor, the one from whom you are learning how to follow Jesus Christ?

 

4.      Who is your Timothy?  Paul was something of a mentor to Timothy.  Who is your apprentice – the one to whom you are passing along the life lessons that God has entrusted you?

 

5.      Where is your Antioch?  Antioch, to Paul, was a safe haven where the call of God could find him.  What small group of friends is your safe haven that is helping you     to discern the will of God in your life?

 

6.      Where is your Macedonia?  This was a field of ministry for Paul.  What field of ministry is most closely aligned with God’s call on your life and hauntingly stirs     your deepest passion?

   Our focus this week will be on the first criteria of a healthy disciple: Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?  Again, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

    In the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark, Jesus presents what we call his first passion prediction.  In other words, he was trying to tell his disciples of his impending crucifixion and resurrection.  He began by saying to his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?”  They answered him, “Some say John the Baptist.  Others say Elijah or one of the prophets.”  Jesus said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”  It was Peter who first replied, “You are the Christ, Son of the Living God.”

     “You are the Christ, Son of the Living God.”  What does that really mean?  What does it mean to say that Jesus is the Christ, or to say that Jesus is the Messiah?  I think Jesus himself explains what it means in the verses that follow.  He says, “If any wish to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.  For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”  In other words, Jesus Christ must become Lord of our lives.  Jesus Christ must become the one who dictates the plan for our lives.

     And that’s all well and good, in theory.  The Apostle Paul points out what more often happens in reality.  Addressing the plight of humanity in the first chapter of Romans, he writes, “Ever since the creation of the world, God’s eternal power and divine nature – invisible though they are – have been understood and seen through the things he has made.  So people are without excuse; for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened.  Claiming to be wise, they became fools; and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images (or idols)… Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.”

     Can we safely say that there’s an element of that going on today?  Are not there those who worship and serve the creature rather than the Creator?  I propose that our entire mindset has been shifted to serve the creature rather than the Creator.  And one of the culprits in this transition is the advertizing industry.

     For example, if we don’t use the right shampoo, we’re going to end up with split ends or dandruff and be repulsive to those around us.  If we don’t use the right toothpaste, our teeth won’t be their whitest and that might keep us from getting the perfect job.  And if we don’t use the right deodorant or cologne, we won’t have crazed members of the opposite sex leaping on us in grocery store aisles.  The advertizing industry does its level best to convince us that without their product, our lives will not be full.  The advertizing industry does its level best to convince us to worship the creature rather than the Creator. 

     George MacDonald tries to set us right in his book, Creation in Christ.  He believes the opposite – that we should be worshiping the Creator rather than the creature.  He writes:

I will tell you.  Get up, and do something the Master tells you; so make yourself his disciple at once.  Instead of asking yourself whether you believe or not, ask yourself whether you have this day done one thing because he said, “Do it,” or once abstained because he said, “Do not do it.”  It is simply absurd to say you believe, or even want to believe in him, if you do not anything he tells you.  If you can think of nothing he ever said as having had an atom of influence on your doing or not doing, you have too good ground to consider yourself no disciple of his.

But you can begin at once to be a disciple of the Living One – by obeying him in the first thing you can think of in which you are not obeying him.  We must learn to obey him in everything, and so must begin somewhere.  Let it be at once, and in the very next thing that lies at the door of our conscience!  Oh fools and slow of heart, if you think of nothing but Christ, and do not set yourselves to do his words!  You but build your houses on the sand.

     To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to be able to answer the question, “Who is my Lord?”  The answer, of course, is: “Jesus Christ is my Lord.”  And if Jesus Christ is truly your Lord, you will take up your cross and follow.  For if Jesus Christ is truly your Lord, you will do what he tells you to do.

     It won’t be easy and it won’t always be pleasant.  So the question now, I guess, is this: Is it worth it?  Why bother to be a disciple of Jesus Christ if it entails suffering and sacrifice?  Why even try to make Jesus my Lord?

     I think Glenn McDonald gives us a wonderful reason in his book, The Disciple Making Church.  I call this story, “Man Overboard!”  Listen to this:

To celebrate their fiftieth anniversary, my parents decided that they would host their own party.  They invited their three sons and three daughters-in-law to join them on a Caribbean cruise in February.  I don’t recall agonizing for very long over the invitation.  When someone hands you a free Get-Out-of-Indiana-in-February card, you take it.  Speaking as veteran cruise passengers, my parents gushed, “We’ll do all kinds of things together, and before dinner on the second day we’ll even get a chance to stand in line and meet the captain.”  I rolled my eyes and said to (my wife), “Don’t worry.  I’ll figure out a way to get us out of that one.”

The trip was wonderful.  Cruises are designed to be multisensory, it’s-all-about-me experiences for the guests.  At the end of the first evening of water-gazing and over-indulging in the dining room, we headed for bed.  While we slept the boat quietly cruised out into the open water beyond Puerto Rico.  At 4:48 a.m., however, everything changed.  We were awakened by a disembodied voice on the cabin intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain.  I am very sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, but we have an urgent concern.  We have an unconfirmed report that a passenger has fallen overboard.  We have already turned the ship around and initiated a search.”  At that moment I realized for the first time that the boat was no longer moving.  The captain continued, “Please go to your room if you are not there at this time, and account for everyone in your party.  If anyone is missing, please report their name to the purser’s desk immediately.”

Thirty minutes passed.  Through our window we could see searchlights sweeping across the swells of black water in the pre-dawn darkness.  The U.S. and Dutch Coast Guards had arrived on the scene.  We found ourselves praying, “God, if anyone is out there alone in that ocean, may your mercy be upon him.”  The captain spoke a second time.  “Ladies and gentlemen, two men are currently unaccounted for.  Their names are John Garcia and Eric Armstrong.  If you know the whereabouts of either of these men, please bring word to us right away.”

There were 1700 guests on the cruise boat and more than 700 crew members.  From the list of 2400 passengers the captain had narrowed the search to just two individuals.  Fifteen minutes later he addressed us again.  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are looking for Eric Armstrong.”  The energies of everyone on board were now focused on the hunt for a solitary person.  Though he was a stranger to us, we all knew his name.

Two hours later the sun rose above the Caribbean.  Once again we heard the captain’s voice.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to tell you we have just found Eric Armstrong.  A U.S. Coast Guard helicopter is at this moment airlifting him to safety.    He appears to be in good condition.  Thank you for your cooperation during this time.”

     The successful search-and-rescue had a dramatic effect on the rest of the cruise.  Every passenger now knew: I’m sailing with someone who would turn this ship around  in the middle of the night and come looking for me.  Who was Eric Armstrong?  Was he a V.I.P.?  A U.S. senator?  The first mate?  Someone intimately related to the captain?  No, he was a 20-year-old man who at about 4:30 a.m. was in a restricted area and had apparently fallen off the bow while doing the Titanic thing – I’m king of the world!

Before dinner on that second day, there was no question what I wanted to do.  I stood in line to meet the captain.  I wanted to shake the hand of the man who I knew would pull out all the stops to find one lost person, even someone who was doing the wrong thing at the wrong place at the wrong time.

     McDonald concludes his story with these words.  “It occurred to me later that this is precisely what Jesus did on the cross.  He pulled out all the stops to launch a search-and-rescue for an entire world of lost people – a great many of whom remain oblivious to his very existence.”  So I ask you again: Why bother to be a disciple of Jesus Christ if it entails suffering and sacrifice?  Why even try to make Jesus my Lord?  That’s why.  Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice for us.  Can’t we make a little sacrifice for him?

     Leo Tolstoy points out that every person has to choose between two gods.  Most people opt for “the god who is here to serve me.”  The difficulty, as Tolstoy reminds us, is that such a god doesn’t exist.  Clinging to the expectation that Christ exists only to make me happy is a recipe for deep disappointment.  Tolstoy’s alternative is the God whom I myself am called to honor and serve.  The Lordship of Jesus Christ means waking up to the conviction that we have received the gift of life in order to do what Jesus wants us to do.  Perhaps we could even say that the cruise is not about us. The cruise…is about the captain.

     And don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t really matter.  Christ did not come just to save you and me.  Jesus Christ came to transform the world.  Chuck Colson recently wrote an interesting commentary on that very subject.  He wrote:

I see no hope for our culture if the Church is not revitalized.  Culture is religion incarnate, and culture shapes politics.  So if we’re going to change the direction of our society, the Church has to fulfill its role as the conscience of society.  Well, I can already hear you saying, “Isn’t worldview just an abstract subject that tweedy professors like to talk about?”  Emphatically, no!  Everybody’s got a worldview that determines how they live their lives.  The sum total of all the worldviews in our culture determines the kind of society we have.  And frankly, Christian are losing the worldview battle.

We need to teach the next generation what we believe, why we believe it, why it matters, and how it plays out in every walk of life.  Worldview determines how we form our families, what is taught in schools, what laws our communities pass, what kind of music we listen to, and what we believe about art and science.

The great apologist Francis Shaeffer was right when he said that Christians must be missionaries to their own culture. Our culture speaks a different language, and thinks differently, than Christians do.  And if we don’t understand this, we can’t communicate effectively with our non-believing neighbors.

I pray fervently that there will be a mighty movement of God’s people learning and then teaching a Christian worldview to others.  If we don’t, if we sit passively in our pews, we’re going to witness the world collapsing – or perhaps I should say finish collapsing – all around us.

     To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to be able to answer the question, “Who is my Lord?”  Don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t matter.  Amen.   

 

9-13-2009 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THAWING THE FROZEN CHOSEN

     There is a website called JARGON DATABASE.COM.  Jargon, of course, is defined as the technical terminology used by a particular group of people.  For example, there is such a thing as political jargon.  Computer programmers certainly have their own unique jargon.  One could even say that there is such a thing as religious jargon.  People outside the faith are not likely to understand what Christians mean when they say sacrificial lamb, regeneration, or even The Apostles’ Creed.

     JARGON DATABASE.COM defines some of our religious jargon.  For example, they explain that a believer’s baptism is a baptism performed on someone who has made a profession   of faith.  To join the choir invisible is to die and to go to heaven.  They also define the term, “God’s Frozen People.”  God’s Frozen People is defined as, “a wry term for Episcopalians; not considered derogatory.”  I’m not so sure about the derogatory part, but that’s what it says.

     JARGON DATABASE.COM also defines the term, “Frozen Chosen.”  In fact, they claim that the term Frozen Chosen is looked up more than any other word.  How do they define Frozen Chosen?  It says this: “Frozen Chosen – Presbyterians.  This particular flavor of the Protestant faith is known fairly accurately for a quiet, reserved manner.”  JARGON DATABASE.COM says that the definition of Frozen Chosen…is Presbyterian.  The question we have to ask is this: Is it true?  More specifically, is it true of our church?

     Now before I get into all of that, I need to tell you a story.  I told this story in a sermon just a few weeks ago, so my apologies to those of you who heard it then.  But once we get to where we’re going this morning, I think you’ll understand why I had to tell it again. 

   His name was Bill.  Bill had wild hair.  He wore a T-shirt with holes in it, tattered jeans and ratty sandals.  This was literally Bill’s wardrobe for his entire four years of college.  But Bill was bright.  And Bill had also become a Christian while he was in college.

     Across the street from his apartment was a very well-to-do and a very prim and proper Presbyterian Church.  Sure, they had talked about welcoming people who were not the same as them, but they weren’t exactly sure how to do so.  One Sunday morning, Bill decided to attend a worship service there.  He walked into the church wearing the very same thing he always wore – a T-shirt with holes in it, tattered jeans and ratty sandals.

     By the time Bill arrived, the service had already started.  Bill walked down the aisle looking for a place to sit, but the people were already in their favorite pews and no one was willing to move over.  By this time, people were getting a bit uncomfortable, but of course, nobody said a word.

     Bill got closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realized there were no seats left, he simply plopped right down on the floor.  The tension in the church was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.  About this time, from the back of the church, an elder started slowly making his way toward Bill.  This elder was in his eighties, had silver hair and wore a three-piece suit – a Godly man – very elegant, very dignified, very refined.  He walked with a cane, and he began making his way toward Bill.  Everyone thought to themselves that you couldn’t really blame the elder for what he was about to do.  How could you expect a man of his age and his back-ground to tolerate some college kid on the floor?

    It seemed to take an eternity for the elder to reach the boy on the floor.  The church was utterly silent except for the clicking of the man’s cane on the floor.  All eyes were focused on him; you could have heard a pin drop.  Even the minister couldn’t start his sermon until the elder did what the elder had to do.

     Then the congregation saw this elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty, he lowered himself and sat down next to Bill so he wouldn’t have to worship alone.  Everyone was choked up with emotion.

     The minister then strode to the pulpit and said, “What I’m about to preach, you will likely never remember.  But what you have just seen, you will likely never forget!

     Isn’t that a wonderful story?  I told that story in a sermon a few weeks ago.  Two days later, we received the following e-mail from someone who was there.  Listen closely:

            Dear Dr. Jensen,

This past Sunday, my wife and I and our grandson attended your church for the 8:30 service.  Our grandson recently moved to Meadville and has been looking for a church to regularly attend.  Your church certainly is a beautiful one and we did enjoy your sermon, entitled, Fair Weather Friends.  However, unlike the old elder who sat on the floor alongside the poorly dressed guest, I doubt anyone at this service would do the same.  We were guests at your church, and no one greeted us or made us feel welcome or – in our grandson’s case – suggest that he come again and that they would be glad to have him.  Now perhaps if we would have filled out the cards, etc. that you mentioned, things would have been different.  I doubt this very much.  I was raised in a Presbyterian church, but have attended a Methodist church for the past 50 years.  After attending your church, I’m glad we do.  I’d much rather attend where people are friendly and make an effort to greet strangers and make them feel welcome and at home.

     That’s the letter in a nutshell.  Now please don’t misunderstand.  I tell this not to make anyone feel bad.  I tell this simply to point out the fact that we have a problem.  This, my friends, cannot continue to happen.  I look at it as a wakeup call.  I look at it as a way of thawing the frozen chosen.

     We talked about this letter at a staff meeting and at a session meeting.  We came up with a number of suggestions.  One was nametags – blue ones for members, red ones for visitors.  Another suggestion was that we greet one another during the worship service itself.  Someone suggested that we have a group of people – a group of people who like people, that is – who go around the sanctuary greeting everyone.  Someone suggested better greeter and usher training.  The list goes on and on.

     Thus, we’re going to be doing a greeting every Sunday morning, at both services.  And I’m asking you to please start wearing nametags.  Lyle Schaller, the guru on church growth and leadership in the 1980s, once said that if a church expects to grow, everyone will wear nametags!  So we’ll have blue nametags for members and we’ll have red nametags for visitors.  That way, we’ll be able to identify who’s who.  That way, you can’t walk up to someone and say, “Are you visiting with us this morning?” only to have them retort, “I’ve been a member of this church for 35 years!”  Please, please, please wear the nametags.

     Perhaps the root of our problem is discipleship.  Consider the passage I read from the gospel according to Matthew.  It says, “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’”

     The “harvest” to which Jesus referred are the people God wishes to be a part of his kingdom.  You encounter them every day of your lives in the world, but you especially encounter them when they visit our church.  The laborers are the people who are supposed to bring the people to Christ.  The laborers then were obviously Jesus’ disciples.  Today those laborers are you and me.  We are called to bring people to Christ.  At the very least, we need to welcome the ones who visit our church, don’t you think?

     Glenn McDonald addresses what’s been happening in Protestant churches regarding this issue in his book, The Disciple Making Church.  He writes:

Classically, North American congregations have relied on a single individual to generate church-wide progress in bringing people to Christ.  That person is the pastor.  For roughly 300 years, Protestant pastors have been charged with the spiritual development of everyone within the church’s reach – a mission to be accomplished through preaching, teaching, worship leadership, counseling, direction of appropriate boards and committees, home visitation, correspondence, administration, janitorial duties, praying at civic functions, and whatever other ‘hats’ might be required apparel at a particular church.  The ultimate issue therefore becomes: How can we expose a maximum number of people to the work of our pastor, so that he or she can work a maximum amount of spiritual magic?

     The pastor can’t do it alone.  The pastor can’t be a disciple for you.  Each and every one of you needs to become a disciple yourself.  We’re going to be wrestling with this issue of discipleship in the weeks that lie ahead.  For now, let me just say this.  How can we identify a healthy disciple?  Again, how can we identify a healthy disciple?  A disciple is someone who can answer – with ever-growing conviction and understanding – the following six questions.

1.      Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

2.      Who are you?  At the beginning of each day, do you wake up thinking you’ll have to go out and win your own share of security and significance, or can you truly say that those are priceless gifts you have already received?

3.      Who is your Barnabas?  Barnabas spoke up for the Apostle Paul and was something of a mentor to him.  Who is your spiritual mentor, the one from whom you are learning how to follow Jesus Christ?

4.      Who is your Timothy?  Paul was something of a mentor to Timothy.  Who is your apprentice, the one to whom you are passing along the lessons that God has entrusted you?

5.      Where is your Antioch?  What small group of friends is helping you to discern God’s will for your life?

6.      Where is your Macedonia?  What field of ministry is most closely aligned with God’s call on your life and hauntingly stirs your deepest passion?

          As we wrestle with these questions and seek God’s answers to them in the weeks that lie ahead, perhaps our church will become a different kind of place.  Perhaps we’ll start to become better disciples ourselves.  Perhaps we’ll even begin thawing the frozen chosen.  Amen.

 

 

 

8-30-09 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

I’D RATHER SEE A SERMON…

     I’ve been reading a book of late entitled Amish Grace that was loaned to me by Cathy O’Shea.  It’s really the story of how the Amish community at Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania forgave Charles Carl Roberts for shooting ten little girls in an Amish schoolhouse.  I think it also personifies verse 22 of the passage I read from the book of James.  James writes, “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”  The book reveals the power of living what we believe.  Listen to this.

     In late October of 1991, Aaron and Sarah Stolzfus were joined together  in holy matrimony.  Following traditional Amish honeymoon custom, they went to visit extended family for a little while.  One Sunday afternoon they were returning home – as you might suspect – by way of horse and buggy.

     That very same day, seventeen-year-old Joel Kime came home from church, grabbed a bite to eat, then headed off to a soccer game with his brother and two friends.  Driving his family’s old AMC Concord – and eager to show off its power – he had already hit 70 miles an hour as he crested a hill on a narrow country road.  Up ahead was Aaron and Sarah’s horse and buggy, but Joel Kime decided to blow right past them.  At the last instant, Aaron and Sarah’s horse turned left…and Joel Kime couldn’t avoid them.  Sarah died in the hospital that night.

     On Monday evening – the day after the accident – Joel Kime’s parents took him to Aaron and Sarah’s house.  He had never been to an Amish home before, and he was afraid of what they might do.  Much to his surprise, Aaron’s grandmother hugged him and expressed her forgiveness.  So did Aaron’s father.  It happened again when Sarah’s parents put their arms around him and said, “We forgive you.”  Joel Kime himself said, “It was unbelievable.  It was totally, absolutely amazing.  I cannot express the relief that floated over me.”

     In a back room of the farmhouse Kime met Aaron, the shattered husband, staring at his deceased bride in a wooden coffin.  Kime said, “How can I ever repay you?”  Kime describes what happened next this way.  “He simply forgave me.  We hugged as the freedom of forgiveness swept through me.”

     Even at his trial, the Amish people wrote letters to the judge, begging   for his pardon.  Legally it was impossible for the judge to acquit Kime,     but because he was a minor, he did manage to avoid prison.

     The relationship between Kime and the Stolzfus family continued.  They got together about once a year in each other’s houses.  Five years after the accident, Kime invited them to his own wedding.  They came for the ceremony and the reception, bearing gifts.  Later, Kime and his wife became missionaries overseas, and the Stolzfus family helped support them financially.

     That, my friends, is the power of forgiveness.  That’s what it means to be doers of the word and not hearers only.  We see how it literally transformed the transgressor.  He ultimately became a missionary overseas. 

     So we’ve seen how forgiveness – living one’s faith – can transform the transgressor.  But what about the transgressed?  What does forgiveness –    or living one’s faith – do for the one who was hurt?

     To answer that question, let’s take a look at the Nickel Mines shooting itself.  Charles Carl Roberts, a local man who drove a milk truck, burst into the school on Monday, October 2, 2006.  I’m not going to go into all the gory details.  Suffice it to say that Roberts shot ten little girls, and five of them did not survive.  Roberts then, of course, turned the gun on himself.

     Shortly thereafter, the Amish community got to thinking about how devastated Charles Roberts’ family must be.  They went to them and they forgave them.  The Amish gave money to help the family out.  Many of them even attended Charles Roberts’ funeral.  As one of the Amish ministers put it, “If I hold a grudge for one day, it is bad.  If I hold it for two days, it’s worse.  If I hold a grudge for a year, then that man is controlling my life.  Why not just let go of the grudge now?”

     Like I said, forgiveness can transform the transgressor.  I think we can also clearly see that forgiveness transforms the transgressed.  It keeps us from becoming bitter.  It keeps us from dwelling on thoughts of hatred or vengeance or anger.  No one’s spirit can be at peace when such thoughts fill one’s mind.  Forgiveness transforms the transgressed as well.

     That does not happen overnight, of course.  According to Everett Worthington, author of the book Forgiveness and Reconciliation, there are actually two types of forgiveness.  There is decisional forgiveness, and there is emotional forgiveness.  Decisional forgiveness is essentially the decision not to act out of bitterness or revenge.  In other words, it is a conscious choice.   But that doesn’t always leave us feeling that we’re over the injustice.

     That’s where emotional forgiveness comes into play.  Emotional forgiveness happens when negative emotions – things like resentment, or hostility, or even hatred – are replaced by positive feelings.  Thus, perhaps we could say that forgiveness is both a short-term act and a long-term process.  In fact, the initial decision to forgive may actually spark the emotional change.  A decision to forgive does not mean a victim has erased bitter emotions, but I think it does mean that emotional transformation IS more likely to follow.

     Of course, the Amish look at this a little bit differently than do most Protestants.  The Amish come out of the Anabaptist tradition.  Anabaptist literally means “rebaptizer.”  At the time of the Reformation, many Anabaptists were persecuted; some were even burned at the stake.  Thank God we don’t settle our differences that way any more!

     Most Protestants believe that we forgive because we have been forgiven.  We call it the doctrine of justification.  By the grace of God in Jesus Christ, we have been forgiven.  Anabaptists believe that they must forgive in order to be forgiven.  To us, that’s salvation by works, but the Anabaptists have good reason for believing what they do.

     What do we say every Sunday morning when we recite the Lord’s Prayer?  We say, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”  To the Anabaptist, the failure to forgive means that they will not be forgiven themselves. We are asking God to forgive us in the same manner that we forgive other people.  It’s a pretty sound line of reasoning, don’t you think?  It is clearly a call for us to live the faith we profess.  It is clearly a call to be doers of the word, and not hearers only.

     This business of being doers of the word and not hearers only has been on my mind a lot lately.  Specifically, I’ve been wrestling with the issue of where we went wrong.  We had a fabulous vision a number of years ago when we called an Associate Pastor for Congregational Life and an Associate Pastor for Congregational Care.  As someone said in one of our cottage meetings, “We’ve done all these things before, just not at the same time.”  It seemed like a vision come from God.  If we made one mistake, I thought, it was that we tried to be all things to all people.  In any case, it did not work.  And I’ve been trying to understand why.  Why did God allow us to fail?

     I came across a pertinent article from The Alban Institute entitled, “The Bi-vocational Congregation.”  I want to read a little bit of that article to you now.  It says:

Any garden-variety atheist, agnostic, or even religiously indifferent materialist knows that if – and we do mean if – the church is to survive well into the future…it won’t be through a linear extension of today’s church.  Every index of the church as it has been indicates a decline, and many indicate a precipitous decline.  So what might tomorrow’s different church look like?

 

We believe the bi-vocational congregation offers a viable model for tomorrow’s church.  A bi-vocational congregation is a local church that operates upon two callings: the calling of function and the calling of mission.  We believe the bi-vocational congregation is more likely to survive into tomorrow to do God’s will and be God’s people because it is essentially organized around spiritual realities in tune with God’s redemptive work.

     So what is the problem?  Perhaps we’ve become too reliant upon paid staff to do the mission for us.  Maybe we need to become doers of the word and not hearers only.  Maybe every single member of this church needs to find a mission of his or her own.

     Lyle Schaller, the guru on church growth and leadership in the 1980s,

once said, “People used to join the church and say, ‘How can I help this church meet its needs?’  Today people join the church and say, ‘How can this church help meet my needs?’”  Do you see how we’ve turned it around?  Do you see how the culture of consumerism has gotten it backwards?

     You’re going to hear more about this in the days and weeks that lie ahead.  We need to become doers of the word and not hearers only.  We need to live the life of faith we profess, rather than try to get by by doing the least we can.  So I’m just going to end this sermon with a poem by a man named Edgar Guest.  I modified it a bit, but listen closely to the words just the same.

I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day.

I’d rather one would walk with me than merely tell the way.

 

          The eye’s a better pupil, and more willing than the ear.

          Fine counsel is confusing, but example’s always clear.

 

The best of all the Christians are those who live the creed,

For to see good put in action, is what all the world needs.

 

          I can soon learn how to do it if you let me see it done.

          I can catch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.

 

And the lecture you deliver may be very wise and true,

But I’d rather get my lesson by observing what you do.

 

          And all the world can witness that the best of guides today,

          Are not the ones that tell them, but the ones who show the way.

Amen.

 

8-23-09 Sermon by Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

FAIR WEATHER FRIENDS

     I think I’ve told you the following story before, but I’ve recently had a new insight on it and it’s pertinent to where we’re headed today, so please bear with me.  About ten years ago, I had a woman in my church by the name of Elaine Best.  Now Elaine was about as dedicated a Christian and as hard-working a deacon as any minister could ever hope to have.  Yet Elaine had a major concern in her life and she shared it with me one day over coffee.

     Elaine’s daughter was married to a brilliant young man.  He was a neurosurgeon by trade and had earned a Ph.D. on top of that.  So in other words, this guy taught neurosurgeons how to do neurosurgery.  Like I said, he was a brilliant young man.

     The problem, in Elaine’s mind, was that this brilliant young man did not believe in God.  It was a concern primarily, I suspect, because he was the father of her grandchildren.  Elaine would do her level best to present her case for belief in God to him, but he would shoot her down at every angle.  I said, “Let me have a crack at him.”   Elaine said, “Oh, he’d kill you in an argument!”

    I said, “That may be true.  But here’s what I’d say.  I’d say, ‘It’s a mistake to think that we have the luxury of choosing or rejecting God completely on our own.  God first chooses us and once God chooses us, we can’t help but respond.  The grace of God is irresistible.  In other words, if God wants you, God’s gonna get you.  The reason you don’t believe in God is because God has not chosen you.’”

     Elaine said, “You can’t say that!”  And that was pretty much the end of our discussion.  But there’s a reason why I like to present that particular argument to atheists.  First of all, it’s theologically sound.  The Church has always believed that God first chooses us and then we respond.  That’s what verse 65 means in the passage I just read.  And the reason I do it is because it puts the atheist on his or her heels.  It really makes them rethink their position when someone says to them that maybe the problem isn’t that they’ve rejected God, but rather, maybe the problem is that God has rejected them.  No one wants to think that God may have rejected them.

     John Calvin, the so-called “father” of the Reformed tradition, would have agreed with me whole-heartedly.  He was an advocate of what we call “double predestination.”  In other words, there are the elect and there are the reprobate.  The elect God has chosen from the beginning of time.  The reprobate God has rejected from the beginning of time.  It sounds a bit harsh, perhaps, but Calvin’s ideas were merely a development of Augustine’s ideas some 1100 years before.  In other words, it’s what the Church has always taught. 

     It is important to know what the Church has always taught.  Although listen to this.  Some say in this day and age we have moved from an Encyclopedia Britannica faith to a Wikipedia faith.  No longer do we abide by the time-honored doctrines of the Church espoused by experts in the faith.  Now we’re just as likely to accept what pretty much anybody posits.  Moving from an Encyclopedia Britannica faith to a Wikipedia faith, my friends, is NOT a good thing!

     In any case, here’s how I’ve begun to rethink my position.  Karl Barth was arguably the greatest theologian of the 20^th century.  He struggled with the rigidity of double predestination as well.  Thus, he came up with a bit of a different spin.  He believed that in the person of Jesus Christ, God was saying “Yes” to the salvation of every human being.  Now before you throw your hands up in holy horror and say, “That sounds like universalism to me,” let me say this. 

     This is where free will comes into play.  God says “Yes” to everyone’s salvation in the person of Jesus Christ.  Yet some people choose to say “No” to God’s “Yes.”  In other words, God has chosen each of us, but some of us refuse to be chosen.  Barth’s ideas fit with the time-honored doctrine of the Church that says that God first chooses us, although the grace of God is no longer irresistible to him.  But Barth’s ideas do coincide with the time-honored doctrine of human free will.  God chooses all of us, and God wants all of us to follow his Son, Jesus Christ.  Yet some choose to say “No” to God’s gracious “Yes.”  There’s your theology lesson for the day.

     Jesus Christ himself was facing just such rejection in the passage we read from the gospel according to John.  He had recently fed the 5000 with but five loaves of bread and two fish.  He had an incredibly large and an incredibly enthusiastic following at the time.  But then Jesus began to talk about living bread.  He said things like, “You must eat my flesh” and “You must drink my blood.”  As we discovered last week, he was referring to the sacrament of communion and how he must be in us by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.  Yet the people who were listening to his words got hung up on the details.

     They said, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?”  The Greek word translated “hard saying” here is SKLAY-RAHS.  It means literally not “hard to understand,” rather, it means literally, “hard to accept.”  The crowds following Jesus found his words hard to accept.  Thus, as it says in verse 66, “After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him.”  In other words, essentially they chose to reject Jesus Christ.

     Jesus faced a major defection.  People turned away from him, ostensibly to look for another Messiah.  What was the problem?  These people had come to Jesus Christ to get something from him.  When it came to suffering for him and giving something to him, they quickly turned away.  Again, these people had come to Jesus Christ to get something from him.  When it came to suffering for him and giving something to him, they quickly turned away.  Perhaps we could call them fair weather friends.

    Our passage also hints at Judas Iscariot’s betrayal.  Jesus said, “The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.  But among you are some who do not believe.”  Our passage goes on to note that Jesus knew from the start who were the ones who did not believe, and who was the one who would betray him.  So we see defection in the crowds that turned away from Jesus, but we also see defiance in the response of Judas Iscariot.

     As you know, Judas was one of the original twelve disciples.  He was a trusted member of the inner circle – so trusted that he was in charge of the disciples’ little treasury.  Some say Judas was a thief and that his betrayal of Jesus was simply true to   his character.  Others say that what Judas was really doing when he betrayed Jesus to   the Jewish high council was that he was trying to force Jesus’ hand.  He thought it would be better to overthrown the Roman government by force rather than to passively submit to it.  He also thought Jesus would never allow himself to be put to death on a cross.  Surely, Judas believed, Jesus would call upon a legion of angels to come and squash the hated Romans.  Jesus had laid out God’s plan for his own destiny, but Judas thought he had a better idea.  Judas’ response to Jesus was essentially one of defiance.  Yet again, perhaps, we could call someone a fair weather friend.

     Jesus is facing defection and defiance.  He sees the crowd turn away from him when he tells them that following him will not be all wine and roses, and he knows in his heart what Judas is preparing to do.  So he turns to his disciples – he turns to his inner circle – and says to them, “Do you also wish to go away?”  Peter responds, “Lord, to whom can we go?  You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”

     Peter’s bold confession here shows that he is no fair weather friend.  Of course, we also know that once Jesus was arrested and condemned, Peter denied him three times in the courtyard of the high priest, but that’s beside the point for now.  Peter made a bold confession of faith.  It is one that each of us should be bold to make as well. 

     Speaking of bold confessions of faith, listen to this.  His name was Bill.  He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with holes in it, ragged jeans and sandals.  This was literally Bill’s wardrobe for his entire four years of college.  But Bill was bright.  And Bill had also become a Christian while he was in college.

     Across the street from his apartment was a very well-to-do and a very prim and proper Presbyterian Church.  Sure, they had talked about welcoming people who were not the same as them, but they weren’t exactly sure how to do so.  One Sunday morning, Bill decided to attend a worship service there.  He walked into the church wearing the very same clothes he always wore. 

     By the time Bill arrived, the service had already started.  Bill walked down the aisle looking for a place to sit, but the people were already in their favorite pews and there was nowhere left to sit.  By this time, people were getting a bit uncomfortable, but of course, nobody said a word.

     Bill got closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realized there were no seats left, his simply plopped right down on the floor. The tension in the church was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.  About this time, from the back of the church, an elder started slowly making his way to Bill.  This elder was in his eighties, had silver hair and wore a three-piece suit; a Godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very refined.  He walked with a cane and began making his way toward Bill.  Everyone thought to themselves that you couldn’t really blame the elder for what he was about to do.  How could you expect a man of his age and his background to tolerate some college kid on the floor?

     It seemed to take an eternity for the elder to reach the boy on the floor.  The church was utterly silent except for the clicking of the man’s cane on the floor.  All eyes were focused on him; you could have heard a pin drop.  Even the minister can’t start his sermon until the elder does what he has to do.

     Then the congregation saw this elderly man drop his cane on the floor.  With great difficulty, he lowered himself and sat down next to Bill so he wouldn’t have to worship alone.  Everyone was choked up with emotion.

     The minister then strode to the pulpit and said, “What I’m about to preach, you will likely never remember.  But what you have just seen, you will likely never forget!

     That elderly elder made a bold confession of faith.  He was no fair weather friend, for by his actions, he revealed the depth of his commitment.  Think about your own level of commitment.  How bold are you willing to be?  How do you respond when God asks something of you?  How do you respond when your church asks something of you?  The church, of all places, should never be foundering in attendance, or scrambling to find Sunday school teachers, or beating the bushes for financial support, or failing to welcome those who are not like us…not when its members are committed; not when we refuse to be fair weather friends.  Amen.    

 

6-28-2009 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THE FIRST RESORT

     I believe it was William Shakespeare who once wrote, “Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”  Joseph Heller, in his book Catch-22, made a slight modification to Shakespeare’s line.  He wrote, “Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them.”  Well I’m going to put my own little spin on Shakespeare’s line as well.  Be not afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them.  Keep that thought in mind as we move on.

     Dr. Kenneth Cooper is recognized as a leader in the international physical fitness movement and is credited with motivating millions of people to exercise.  In fact, Dr. Cooper is also credited with coining the word aerobics in a book he wrote in 1968 by  that title.  Dr. Cooper – one of the world’s leading experts on physical fitness – has often commented that of all the professional people he sees, ministers are in the worst physical shape.

     A 2002 Duke Divinity School study seems to back that statement up.  According to that study, 79% of all male clergy are overweight, and 52% of female clergy are over-weight as well.  In spite of these glaring statistics, nearly 75% of the clergy rate their health as either “excellent” or “very good.”

     That very same study reported that 60% of the clergy never doubted their call to ministry, and 70% have never thought about leaving their profession.  The good news    is, we clergy know that God has called us.  The bad news is, apparently we clergy hear Krispy Kreme calling us as well.

     As many of you know, I had a little blood clot issue after some shoulder surgery about a year and a half ago.  I was hospitalized for several days and after I got out, I had to give myself Heparin shots in the stomach for three or four days.  Now I lift large amounts of weights and even did a little boxing when I was young and foolish.  I am not afraid of much, but needles make me weak in the knees.  (I’m afraid of dentists too, but that’s another story.)

     The nurse at the Meadville Medical Center was explaining how I was to give myself the shot.  She said, “Just take hold of a little roll of fat, push the needle in, and press the top.”  I said, “How am I going to do that?  How am I going to push a needle through these rock-hard, washboard abs?”  The nurse said, “Lift up your shirt.”  So I lifted up my shirt and she said, “You won’t have any problem.”  She was all business!

     How did that saying go?  Be not afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them.  Ladies and gentlemen, in that particular instance, I truly had humility thrust upon me.

     Such was the case with Jairus in the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark.  Who was Jairus?  The Bible simply calls him “one of the leaders of the synagogue.”  What does that mean?  It means Jairus must have been a man of considerable importance.  He would have been the administrative head of the synagogue.  He would have been president of the board of elders.  He would have been responsible for the conduct of services.  Oh, he may not have taken part in the services – the rabbi would handle that – but he was the one responsible for the services taking place.  The leader of the synagogue was one of the wealthiest, most important, most influential, and most respected people in the community.

     How would Jairus have seen Jesus?  Truth be told, he would have seen Jesus as some-thing of a rabble-rouser.  Here’s this man upon whom the people are designating the title of Messiah, and he doesn’t seem to deny it.  Here’s this man who heals on the Sabbath, eats with tax collectors, and talks incessantly about the kingdom of God.  Jesus was doing his level-best to upset the religious establishment – the religious establishment Jairus was sworn to uphold.  Surely Jairus would have seen Jesus as a threat to all he held dear.

     But there was a problem.  Jairus had a little girl, and he loved that little girl more than life itself.  For her, Jairus would have moved heaven and earth.  His little girl was ill – she was at the point of death – and Jairus was desperate.  So he put aside his pride, he put aside his prejudice, he put aside his dignity, and he put aside the thought of what people might say.  Jairus came to Jesus, dropped to his knees, and begged Jesus to come and heal his daughter.  He came to Jesus as a last resort.

     Do not be afraid of humility: some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them.  Jairus had humility thrust upon him because of the condition of his daughter.  And much to Jesus’ credit, he responded to Jairus.  A lot of us might not have been so gracious.  A lot of us might have made Jairus squirm.  “How do you like me now?” is the catch-phrase of the day.  Jesus, however, responded to Jairus’ pleas.  Of course, by the time he arrived at the home of Jairus, the little girl had already passed away.  Yet Jesus went in and raised her from the dead.  The point of the story is that Jesus has power, even over death.  Jairus humbled himself, and God granted him a miracle.

     Now I could end this sermon here on a pretty high note.  Jesus raised that little girl and Jesus will raise your loved ones as well.  If I ended this thing now, you could all leave in a few minutes and beat the Methodists to Perkins.  But something happened on the way to the home of Jairus, and that’s what I want to focus on now.

     Jairus made his plea, and Jesus acquiesced.  As they made their way to the home of Jairus, a large crowd surrounded them and people were pressing on every side.  But there was this woman in the crowd – a woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for 12 long years.  She’d been to many physicians and no one had been able to help her; in fact, if anything, they’d only made things worse.  This woman would have been considered ritually unclean; she would have been ostracized from society.  She would have had to keep her distance from her friends.  She would have had to keep her distance from her husband and from her children.  She must have felt alone in this world.  No one could help her, so she turned to Jesus as a last resort.

     As Jesus moved through the crowds and the crowds pressed upon him, she came up with a plan.  If she could just touch him – maybe just touch the hem of his garment – maybe then she could be healed.  So that’s what she did.  She maneuvered her way through the crowd to where she thought Jesus would soon pass.  And as he passed, she reached out and in one desperate lunge, she got her hand on Jesus’ cloak.  It worked!  She felt the healing immediately!  As she slunk back into the crowd, she must have felt jubilant at her success.  After all these years, she was finally healed and no one was the wiser.

     But then Jesus stopped abruptly and said, “Who touched my garments?”  His disciples thought he was crazy.  “You see the crowd,” they said.  “How can you say, ‘Who touched me?’”  But the woman who had been healed knew exactly what he meant.  Trembling, she came and fell down before him and confessed what she had done.  Jesus said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

     Ah, another happy ending.  “Can we stop this sermon now?” you say.  “We can still beat the Baptists to Perkins!”  Sorry, there’s one more thing that needs to be said.  Jesus said to the woman, “Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”  Most of our English Bibles say that this woman had a disease.  The Greek word mastigos can be translated “disease.”  But more literally it means a punishment or a chastisement – specifically, a punishment or a chastisement from God.  So what Jesus is really saying to that woman is this: “Go in peace, and be healed of your chastisement from God.” Are we insinuating here that God caused her affliction?  How could a loving God ever cause one of his precious children affliction?

     I’m going to tell you a story about how a father once caused his child affliction, but I will not mention any names.  Once, a father was coaching one of his sons in football when he heard a lot of sirens off in the distance.  Seems there was a brushfire in the neighborhood and the fire department was rushing to put it out.  Shortly thereafter, a woman told that father that her son, his son, and another boy had started that fire.

     A few minutes later, that father’s son and the other boy came strolling up to the foot-ball field.  The father said to his son, “What’s with all the firetrucks down the street?”  The two boys shrugged their shoulders and said, “Beats me!”  The father growled, “Don’t you lie to me!” as he watched the color leave the boys’ faces.  “Get in the truck.  We’re going down to the police station.”

     There the truth came out.  It was the third boy who started the fire, but the father’s son was guilty by association.  The boys got their hands slapped a little bit, but didn’t get into too much trouble.  As the father drove his son and the other boy home, he said, “You guys got off easy.  The next time, you won’t be so lucky.”  The father knew he had done the right thing when his own son said, “There won’t be a next time.”  The other boy just snorted and stared out the window.

     A father clearly afflicted his son, but he did it to teach him a lesson.  The police had no idea who started the fire.  The boys could have gotten off scot-free.  Instead, one boy was afflicted – by his own father – and he grew from his affliction.

     Can we perhaps now see how God might afflict us or chastise us for our own good?  No one knows the story of why the woman with the hemorrhage was afflicted.  Regard-less, though, it did draw her to Christ, did it not?  Having experienced the grace of God for herself, she would never be the same.  Perhaps God sometimes withdraws from us as well in an effort to get us to turn to Christ…in an effort to get us to dig a little deeper.  Perhaps that’s exactly what God is doing when we sometimes go through what we call the dark night of the soul.

     Something else strikes me about this story of the woman reaching out to touch the hem of Jesus’ robe.  Think of the crowds pressing upon Jesus as the Church.  People come to church for any number of reasons – some good, some not so good.  Some come out of habit.  Some come because it’s the right thing to do.  Some come to watch their children perform.  Some come because it’s good for business.  Some come to see what so-and-so is wearing.  Some come to count the hypocrites.  But some come because they have a deep, pressing spiritual need.  They have something that lays so heavily on their hearts that they just want to scream, “God!  Can you hear me?  Will you help me?”  It’s something that no one else knows about – perhaps it’s something they dare not even speak – and nobody seems to be able to help.  Some come to the church out of a deep, pressing spiritual need.

     There’s someone like that here today.  God wants to help you.  God wants you to turn to him, and he will do whatever it takes to get you to do so.  That’s where that empty, hopeless, helpless feeling comes from.  To you, I say, “God is here.  God can help you.  And he will help you, if you let him.”  Don’t make God the last resort.  Instead, try making God the first resort.  Amen.

 

6-21-09 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

GOD IS NEVER IN A HURRY

     Life is full of little lessons, is it not?  Since it’s Father’s Day, let me tell you a story about a lesson a father once taught his son.  It seems the young man had recently gotten his driver’s license and he went to his father – who was also a minister – and asked him about getting his own set of wheels.  The father replied, “We can talk about it, son.  But here’s what I want you to do first.  I want you to improve your grades in school, I want you to start reading the Bible, and I want you to get a haircut.”  A few months later, the boy went back to his father.  He’d improved his grades.  He’d started reading the Bible, but he hadn’t yet gotten that haircut.  The father pointed that out to the son.  The son said, “But Dad, Noah had long hair.  Samson had long hair.  Moses had long hair.  Even Jesus had long hair.”  To which his father quickly replied, “Yes, my son, Jesus did have long hair.  And as you recall, he walked everywhere he went!”

     Life is full of little lessons, and sometimes those lessons sting a little bit.  And some-times, those lessons shake us to the very core.  Tony Campolo is a noted author and speaker who began his professional life as a Baptist minister.  Specifically, he was a youth pastor.  One day, Tony Campolo came home from work a little early.  As he pulled up in the driveway, he saw his son tossing a football with one of his friends.  As Tony got out of the car, he heard his son’s friend say, “Hey, great!  Now that your dad’s home, he can play football with us.”  Campolo heard his son reply, “Nah, my dad only likes to play with other people’s kids.”  It was a lesson that struck Tony Campolo to the core.  He soon got out of youth ministry and the rest, as they say, is history.

     Jesus was giving his disciples one of those lessons that shook them down to the core in the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark.  But before I get into that, I have to set the scene.  Earlier in the day, Jesus delivered what we call the Parable of the Sower.  A sower went out to sow.  As he scattered his seeds, some fell along the path and the birds came and quickly devoured them.  Some fell amongst the thorns and the thorns quickly choked them out.  Some fell on rocky ground and they quickly sprang up, but having no root system, they soon withered and died.  Yet some of the seeds fell on the good ground and they produced grain, some thirty fold, some sixty fold and some a hundred fold.  The disciples didn’t understand the parable, so Jesus had to explain it to them.  Now a parable is often defined as an earthly story with a heavenly meaning.  But a parable also always contains a twist and a central truth.  So maybe the Parable of the Sower isn’t so much a parable as it is an allegory.  In any case, Jesus explained it to them.  The seeds that fell on the path are like when the word of God comes to a person and the devil quickly devours it.  The seeds that fell on the thorny ground are like when the word of God comes to a person, but the cares of this world quickly choke it out.  The seeds that fell on the rocky ground are like when the word of God comes to a person and they’re all excited about it, but having no faith foundation, they quickly wither away.  But the seed that fell on good soil is like when the word of God comes to a person and it takes root in their souls.  It truly makes a difference in the way they live their lives.  I think of a mighty oak tree that grows to be 50 or 60 feet tall.  What keeps the wind from blowing the tree over?  It’s a deep-seated root system that keeps it from blowing over.  God can raise a mushroom in a day.  But to grow a mighty oak tree, it might take 30 or 40 years.  God is never in a hurry.  To build a foundation to our faith takes time as well.  Okay, so back to our passage.  Jesus has just given his disciples this lesson on faith when they put out to sea in their boats.  Jesus crawled up in the stern of the boat and fell asleep on a cushion.  Suddenly, a great storm of wind arose and the disciples were terrified.  They ran to Jesus and cried, “Master, do you not care if we perish?”  Jesus had just taught his disciples about faith and then this incident proves that their faith is not very strong.  So Jesus got up and calmed the storm.  Like I said, God is never in a hurry.  God is never in a hurry, but he’s always right on time.  Again, God is never in a hurry, but he’s always right on time.

     Many years ago, when I was in Minnesota, I had a wise, old minister friend who was probably about 25 or 30 years older than I was.  His name was Gordon Bloemendaal, and he was a minister in the Reformed Church, sometimes also called the Dutch Reformed Church.  Their motto was, “If you ain’t Dutch, you ain’t much.”  Gordon Bloemendaal – obviously a Dutchman himself – taught me a lot.  One of the wisest things he said to me was this: “If you’re not doing a great work for the Lord, the Devil’ll leave you alone.”  Pretty good, huh?  When Gordon was in seminary, he was married and already had two or three of his four kids.  One Sunday morning, as the offering plate was being passed, Gordon saw that he only had one dollar to his name.  How was he going to feed his family?  The cupboards at home were bare and he only had a dollar.  So he put that dollar in the offering plate and as he did so, he said a little prayer: “Lord, I don’t know how you’re going to work this out for us, but I trust that you will do so.”  That very afternoon – I’m not making this up – that very afternoon, five or six carloads of families from the church drove up to his house, each one loaded down with several bags of groceries.  It was truly a transformative moment for Gordon and his family.  He learned that God is true to his word.  Perhaps he also learned that God is never in a hurry, but he’s always right on time.

     Today, a lot of people are struggling financially.  But are they turning to God as my friend Gordon Bloomendaal did?  No, they’re turning to drinking and they’re turning to gambling.  Do you realize that just last week more than 47 million dollars was wagered at Presque Isle Downs?  And over the course of the year so far, in Pennsylvania alone, more than 21 billion dollars have been wagered?  It makes me think of a quote from Gary Eberle’s book, The Geography of Nowhere.  He writes:

In the middle ages, people spent vast amounts of time and money to pilgrimage to shrines and to the Holy Land.  Today, the object of travel is more likely to be the mall or Disney World.  In a spiritual society, people hope to see the face of God.  In a postmodern one, they opt for Mickey Mouse.

     Perhaps we need to turn to God once again.  Maybe that’s what God is waiting for.  After all, God is never in a hurry…but he’s always right on time.  Amen.   

 

6-7-09 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

IS YOUR GOD TOO SMALL?

     As many of you know, my wife is a music teacher at East End Elementary.  Just last week, another teacher B obviously affiliated with the Academy Theater B approached her about their next production.  He told her they=re doing South Pacific, and he wondered if I=d be interested in being part of the cast.

     As my wife told me about this man=s request, I was truly flattered.  What role would they want me to play?  Would they want me to be the entrepreneurial Luther Billis?  Would they want me to be Lieutenant Joe Cable?  Had Kevin Dill or Becky Borthwick let it slip about what a talented singer I really am?  So I said to my wife, AWhat role do they want me to play?@  To which she quickly replied, AThey=re looking for drunken sailors!@

    Okay, okay, that was a little bit humbling.  And truth be told, I didn=t really think they=d ask me to play a major role.  But it=s nice to be asked.  It=s really quite flattering.  And as all of us suspect deep, deep down, flatteryYwill get you everywhere.

   In a manner of speaking, that=s exactly what Nicodemus was trying to do in the passage we read from the gospel according to John.  Nicodemus was a Pharisee and a member of the prestigious Sanhedrin B what we might call the Supreme Court of ancient Israel.  Now since Jesus had caused a bit of a stir amongst the Pharisees, Nicodemus came to Jesus by cover of darkness.  Upon gaining an audience with Jesus, Nicodemus said to him, ARabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.@  Why it was almost as if he had borrowed a page from Dale Carnegie=s book, How to Win Friends and Influence People.  You know, flattery will get you everywhere!

     Nicodemus probably expected Jesus to reply with something like, AWhy, yes, I do come from God.  How perceptive of you to notice!@  But that=s not what Jesus said at all.  Jesus knew why Nicodemus had come, and Jesus knew the question that burned in his heart.  Jesus quickly put the small talk aside and said to him, ATruly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.@

    Nicodemus wanted to know how to attain the kingdom of God for himself.  He wanted to know how to attain eternal life.  And that=s the question Jesus answered.  AUnless one is born anew,@ he said, Aone cannot see the kingdom of God.@

     The Greek words translated Aborn anew@ here are gennaythay annothen.  They can actually be translated two ways.  One way implies that one must be physically reborn.  The other way implies that one must be spiritually reborn B literally, Abegotten from above.@  Nicodemus misunderstood.  He assumed Jesus was talking about physical rebirth, and he did not understand how that could happen.  How important it is that we   be on the same wavelength when we=re trying to communicate!

     For example, I came across an interesting story about a miscommunication just the other day.  It seems the children in a particular family really wanted a hamster and they begged their parents to buy them one.  They promised their parents that if they got said hamster, they would take care of it themselves.  So Mom and Dad purchased a hamster for their kids and the kids named it Danny.

     After a month or two, the mother found herself responsible for feeding and cleaning up after Danny.  Thus, she located a prospective new home for him, and she told the children about her plan.  Surprisingly, the children took it pretty well.  They actually said, AHe=s been around here a long time.  We=re really going to miss him.@

     AYes,@ the mother replied, Abut he=s too much work for just one person, and since I=m that person, I say he goes.@  One of the children said, AWell, maybe if he wouldn=t eat so much and wouldn=t be so messy, we could keep him.@

     But Mom was firm.  AIt=s time to take Danny to his new home,@ she said.  AGo and get his cage.@  Suddenly the kids cried out, ADanny!  We thought you said Daddy!@

     Like I said, how important it is that we be on the same wave length when we=re trying to communicate.  Jesus said to Nicodemus, AUnless one is born anew, one cannot see the kingdom of God.@  Nicodemus thought in terms of physical rebirth, but Jesus was speaking in terms of spiritual rebirth.

     This simple passage has probably caused as much confusion in the church as any passage in all of Scripture.  The question is asked, AHow does one get to heaven?@  And the answer is posited, AYou must be born again.@  The confusion is this.  Is our spiritual rebirth something we accomplish on our own, or is our spiritual rebirth something God accomplishes in us?

     I truly believe that conventional wisdom in America today leans toward the former. 

You know, in order to be born again, we must accept Jesus Christ as our personal savior.  I don=t know where exactly that language came from.  Nowhere in Scripture does Jesus say, AIn order to see the kingdom of God, you must accept me as your personal savior.@  Yet try to look at this as a theologian.  If the onus of being born again rests with us, then does this not become salvation by works?  We do not B nor have we ever B espoused a doctrine of works-righteousness.  Salvation comes by the grace of God and the grace of God alone.  Or, try to look at this from a psychological standpoint.  If I have accepted Christ as my personal savior and you have not, aren=t I inclined to look down upon you B to see myself as being superior?  It=s this very attitude that has given Christianity such a bad name in recent years.

     That=s why Jesus clearly indicates that it all begins with God.  To Nicodemus, he says, ADo not marvel that I said to you, >You must be born anew.=  The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.@  That=s what the Church has taught for the last 2000 years.  That=s what we call orthodox Christian theology.  It all begins with God.  We still have free will.  God can come to us by way of his Holy Spirit and we can choose to reject him.  But I=ve always been of the mindset that if God wants you, God=s going to get you.  Our spiritual rebirth begins with God.  It=s orthodox Christian theology.  And if it begins with God and not with us, that ought to humble us as well, don=t you think?  We didn=t first choose God, rather, God first chose us.

     Yet the question is often asked, AHow do I know that I=m born anew?@  How can I tell if I=ve been begotten from above?  How does that old saying go, AThe proof is in the pudding?@  The proof of our spiritual rebirth is evidenced by the way we live our lives.  Again, the proof of our spiritual rebirth is evidenced by the way we live our lives.

     A recent United States President claimed to be born again, did he not?  His spiritual rebirth got him to stop drinking.  And perhaps that=s a good thing.  Yet I recently encountered a startling essay that questions his sincerity.  I=m not going to say who wrote the essay because some of you might know him.  And I don=t mean to offend anyone, but I do want you to think.  The essay says:

Many persons supported George Bush because they believed him to be a devout Christian, a man of prayer, a man of God.  Certainly Bush lets no opportunity pass to let the public know that he is a born again Christian.  I have been asked whether I believe him to be a godly man.  It is not for me to judge, but I am not persuaded that he is.  For one thing, none of the people whom I have known in my lifetime whom I would characterize as Agodly@ have every publicly paraded their godliness.  And among widely known public figures, the only one that comes to mind (who is godly) is Mother Teresa.

      The essayist goes on to contrast former President Bush=s actions with Jesus= Sermon on the Mount.  ABlessed are the peacemakers,@ Jesus said.  The essayist says Bush is a war maker.  AHe waged an unjust war in Iraq.@  ABlessed are the meek,@ Jesus said.  The essayist says, ABush and his cronies are the epitome of arrogance and toughness.  They mocked John Kerry for suggesting that we show some sensitivity in dealing with those who disagree with us.@  The list goes on and on, but I=ll stop here.  Again, I am not trying to offend anyone.  I just want you to think about what it means to evidence our faith by the way we live our lives.  Consistency is imperative. 

     Compare that to the man about whom Don Skinner wrote in last Friday=s Meadville Tribune B a man named Millard Fuller.  Skinner wrote:

Highly successful and an early millionaire, Fuller could have been forgiven for being satisfied with his achievements.  He might also have evaporated into oblivion.  He was one of several men I=ve personally met who sky-rocketed into economic orbit, only to look around and ask, AIs this all there is?@  Indeed it was all B where he was at.  But not where he was going.  He hadn=t gotten off the ground yet.

     Who was Millard Fuller?  Millard Fuller was the founder of Habitat for Humanity.  By the year 2009, Habitat for Humanity volunteers had erected 300,000 homes, occupied by more than 1.5 million people.  As Fuller himself put it, AWe know that by doing what we can, we make a difference.  We know from experience that when we move on faith, God moves with us.@  Now there=s a man who was born anew.  He truly figured out that life was not all about him.

     J.B. Phillips was the author of a book entitled, Your God Is Too Small.  When is our God too small?  Our God is too small when we believe the world revolves around us.  Our God is too small when we think we have all the answers.  Our God is too small when we think we=re better than somebody else.  Our God is too small when we equate God=s desires with our own.  Our God is too small when our faith doesn=t guide every aspect of our lives.  Our God is too small when he impacts only our lives and not the way we deal with others.  Our God is too small when we think that being born again has only to do with spending eternity in heaven.  Our God is too small when he doesn=t impact what we do in the here and now.  So I ask you now: AIs your God too small?@  Amen.