tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42098956783430307722023-11-15T10:11:54.747-08:00GOD’S WORK IN PROGRESSJohn Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.comBlogger200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-91330242450793345602012-12-18T09:57:00.000-08:002012-12-18T09:57:04.589-08:00The graceful ax of God <br />
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<i>Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.</i><br />
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So, today’s Gospel’s a little scary. You know it’s never a good sign when the first thing that comes to mind when you read the Gospel you plan to preach on is a scene from Stephen King’s Children of the Corn. Because – it’s easy to think that today’s Gospel is claiming that the Advent of Jesus is similar to the Advent of Santa, only a lot more sadistic. I mean is that what John the Baptist is saying? That – <br />
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You better watch out <br />
You better not cry <br />
Better not pout <br />
I'm telling you why <br />
Jesus Christ is coming to town <br />
He's making a list <br />
And checking it twice; <br />
Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice <br />
Jesus Christ is coming to town <br />
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And then the verse that I wrote:</b><br />
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<i>He sees you when you're sinning,<br />
So I think it’s time you learned;<br />
The wheat he will be gathering in, <br />
But the bad trees he will burn. </i><br />
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So here’s the first thing I want to say about today’s Gospel – the point is not to scare us into a changed life. Right? Because – how does Luke sum up John’s speech? “So, with many other exhortations, John proclaimed the good news to the people.” Jesus’ arrival is good news, as is every single word that John speaks in today’s Gospel. <br />
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And so what I’d have us consider is that today’s Gospel isn’t a picture of Judgment Day, where the sheep and goats are divided, but rather a spiritual formation text where John gives us a clear picture of what Jesus Christ longs to do in our lives: “The ax,” John says, “is lying at the root of the trees; and every tree that doesn’t bear good fruit is going to be cut down and thrown into the fire.” <br />
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Now, what does this mean? Well, in the backdrop of John’s speech is Psalm 1. And when you get home today I’d encourage you to read Psalm 1, where the righteous person is compared to a tree – a tree that’s planted by streams of water so that it yields fruit in its season. And so psalm one’s metaphor for the spiritual live is that each and every one of us is a tree, which makes us ask the question – where it is exactly that we’re planted. In other words, what do the roots of our soul rely on to find nourishment? <br />
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Because – when it comes to life there’s a really big difference between being a tree planted by a riverbank and one that depends on the outside rain to find nourishment and life. And what I think psalm 1 is saying is that there’s a difference between a person whose roots descend deep into God to find nourishment in His goodness and grace, and someone that depends on “outside factors” to make them feel like a worthwhile human being. <br />
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And that’s why our great spiritual problem isn’t so much that we’re rebels or misfits but, in the tradition of psalm 1, trees – trees that have been planted somewhere East of Eden and therefore trees that bear the wrong kind of fruit. You see, even though God tells us that we are the object of His love – His very own beloved – we still live our lives frantically searching for someone else to tell us we’re beloved. You see like a tree that depends on the outside rain to stay alive we too rely on outside factors – our I.Q., our sense of humor, what other people think, our portfolio, the feedback we’re getting at work, our own piety and religious observance, our religious tradition (you, know the claim that we have Abraham as our ancestor and that’s what makes us special!). And that’s why John reminds the crowds in today’s Gospel that God can make more children of Abraham from a pile of rocks – that it’s not our heritage or anything else that makes us worthy, but rather God’s commitment to save us, and purify us, refine us with the fire of His Holy Spirit, all to make us more like Himself – that is what makes us worthy. <br />
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And it’s this acknowledgement, I believe, that captures the nature of true repentance, which is any shift of the mind that moves us a bit closer to finding our worth and significance in Jesus. And that’s why God’s desire isn’t to polish us up or to work out the kinks in our character, but rather to take his graceful ax, chop us down, burn the chaff, safeguard the wheat, and to slowly but surely uproot us so that we might be replanted in His Son Jesus Christ. <br />
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And so while today’s Gospel may not be scary, it is unsettling. Because – nothing inside of us wants to be cut down, and replanted. And yet, for those of us who have already drowned in the waters of baptism, I think it’s good to be reminded that Jesus has no intention of leaving us alone until we are completely and utterly transformed. This is how C.S. Lewis puts it in Mere Christianity: <br />
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<i>Christ says, “Give me all. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money … I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, I’ve come to kill it. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. [And so] hand over your whole natural self. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.” </i><br />
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And so, let me give you a quick example of how this is playing out in my life. There’s a young man I visit weekly in prison by the name of Gerardo. He’s 15 and already Gerardo’s accrued a handful of felony charges. And even though the state will give him a chance to change his life before he turns 18, after two months of walking alongside him I’m not sure that’ll happen, or if Gerardo even wants it to happen. And I tell you this because I began this ministry thinking my call was to get through to him. And what I’m finding is that the person God’s chiseling away at is me. One of the things I’m learning is how scared I am. Truth be told, at this point in life I would never have Gerardo into my home. I’m also learning I have a hard time “wasting” time. If the guard lets me out at 7:04 and not 7 PM sharp I get angry, and if Gerardo’s not happy to see me I’m the one that feels like the victim. “You little jerk,” I think, “do you not appreciate what I’m trying to do for you?” In other words, what God’s showing me is that there’s still so much chaff in my heart that Jesus wants to burn, weeds he needs to pull, branches He intends to prune – all of which is a part of his plant to chop me down and replant me in the goodness and grace of God. <br />
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And so here’s the word I’d like to leave you with this morning. As Christmas approaches, when you experience pain – when a relationship breaks down or when a comment breaks your spirit; when your impatience frustrates you or when your anger boils over – stop. Pray. Think about what it is you’re being denied that you’ve been relying on day in and day out to nourish you. Draw an X on that aspect of your soul. And then, invite Jesus to pick up his ax, to bring the baptism of his fire, because something may need to be chopped down and some chaff may need to be burned. <br />
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Because – there is no path to spiritual maturity that doesn’t involve pain. Apparently when Michelangelo was asked how he carved his magnificent David, he apparently replied, “Well, I looked inside the marble and just took away the bits that weren’t David.” In the same way, Jesus longs to carve away those bits of us that are not really “us” at all. Because – as badly as we want to plant ourselves where our souls can find nourishment in the things of this world, it is good news that Jesus comes to uproot us and replant us in a different world all together, which He calls the Kingdom of God. <br />
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And so take heart. He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Christ Jesus. The ax is lying at the root of the trees; Even now the Master Artist is chiseling, and in His mind, the masterpiece, who you are and who He is fashioning you to be, is finished. <br />
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God asks us not to worry, <br />
His wrath we will not face<br />
It’s His goodness that uproots us,<br />
And replants us in His grace.</i><br />
John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-69259665929566379692012-12-05T11:08:00.000-08:002012-12-05T11:08:04.910-08:00The glory of Jesus<br />
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Jesus said, “And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”</i><br />
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Well, good morning. My name’s John Newton and I work for the Diocese as Bishop Doyle’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation, which means for the most part that I’m in a new congregation each Sunday. But St. John’s is the church that my beautiful wife Emily and I call home. And because this feels like home whenever I preach here I’m always a little bit more nervous. And in particular, yesterday, I was a panicky because I woke up and didn’t have a sermon. And not for lack of preparation. I made notes. I read commentaries. I even did a group Bible study. But, you know, nothing clicked. So I browsed through old sermons hoping to recycle one. But I decided you deserve better. Plus, I didn’t have any – first time preaching on Luke 21. And so my heart was “weighed down” as Jesus put it today with the cares of this life. <br />
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You see, a little secret you might not know about us preachers: we put a lot of weight in your opinion. We want you to think we’re competent, smart and faithful and far too often it’s actually from you and what you think that we derive our sense of worth and significance. And that’s why I panicked. “What if Sunday rolls around and I don’t have anything to say, what they will think? And if they don’t think it’s good, how will I be able to stand up and raise my head?” <br />
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You see, all humans are desperate to know we have significance – to stand tall and raise our head – and far too often we spend our lives chasing after something we think can give it to us. <br />
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And it can be anything. What someone thinks of our sermon. Our reputation. A relationship. Our achievements. Our spouse. Our kids. Our portfolio. Our I.Q. Our own moral obedience, piety and religious observances. Being independent. But we all put emotional weight on something hoping against hope that it will help us lift our head in this world and quite frankly give us the cosmic significance we all crave. But what eventually happens is that our hearts get weighed down because intuitively we know that we were created for something more significant, something weightier, than the cares of this life.<br />
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Now, today’s the 1st Sunday of Advent and Advent is actually about that Something Weightier, that Something More Significant, arriving in our world not for the first time but for the second. In other words, Advent’s about Jesus Christ coming back not just with power but with power and great glory. And so this morning, I want to answer two questions. <br />
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First -- What is glory, and what does it mean to say that Jesus will come with glory?<br />
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Second -- What can we do to prepare for this reality so that, as Luke says, when Jesus comes, or we meet Him in death, we can “stand up and raise our heads” with confidence?<br />
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And so first, what is glory? Well, the Biblical word glory has two similar meanings. It means weight, or heaviness, but it also means significance or value. The word glory, more than anything, alludes to the real presence of God. The real God is weighty. The real God is heavy. The real God has significance. And that’s why when the real God shows up in the Bible there’s often an earthquake. Mount Sinai’s the perfect example. The real God shows up, the mountain shakes. Right? Because – the real God is so much heavier, so much weightier, than a mountain.<br />
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For example, if I drop this pen on the ground (drop pen) it will barely make a sound because the ground has a lot more glory, a lot more weight, than a pen – right? But if a meteorite falls from other space the ground will be crushed because the meteorite has more glory or weight than the surface of the ground. <br />
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And so on this first Sunday of Advent as we ponder Jesus’ future return in glory, I’m not sure there’s a more crucial question than this – what’s the weightiest thing in our life? In other words, what’s more real or pressing to our heart than anything else? What do we rely on in this world to stand up with our heads raised? Is it a real, deep and personal friendship with Jesus – and a knowledge of His love, mercy and grace – or is it something else?<br />
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Now – a warning to those of us who attend church every week, read our Bible and like to debate the finer points of doctrine – Advent isn’t about getting more familiar with God as a concept, but about standing before the Living Christ in all of His glory and being changed. <br />
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You see there’s a problem with the concept of God. It has a lot less glory than our ego. The concept of God is like the pen. And if we drop the concept of God into our life or into our church it will leave us unbroken and will barely make a sound. But in the Bible, when people encounter the Living God, their tiny wants, needs and life-pursuits are always crushed and their life is rearranged. <br />
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There was a book that came out in 1972 and twice it was made into a movie – The Stepford Wives. In it the men of Stepford engineer a way to turn their wives into robots. And so women who were once real and able to contradict and challenge their husbands are changed into submissive machines that only exist for a single purpose – and that’s to meet the needs and desires of their husbands. <br />
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Here’s the problem with only relating to God as a concept. It’s a Stepford God. If God to us is nothing more than a concept it’s inevitable that we’ll make Him into a robot that only exists to meet our needs and desires. You see a Stepford God has no glory. He can’t contradict us or challenge us. And that’s why the concept of God is light. But the real God is so much weightier than us and our idols. And that’s why it’s not the knowledge of God that transforms us. It’s the experience of God that transforms us. <br />
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And so when we talk about Jesus returning in glory, what we’re trying to do is capture the reality that when Jesus returns, we who rest in His mercy and grace will finally have that complete and total transforming experience – what Jesus calls “redemption” in today’s Gospel. You see, the transformation we experience in this life, though real, it still pales in comparison to what will be experienced when we stand before our Lord. And if you think about it, that’s both encouraging and challenging, because when we stand before the One for whom and through whom we were created, we will no longer be able to perpetuate any illusion that we have any significance at all apart from our relationship with Him. <br />
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And so as we affirm our belief that our life will culminate with an encounter with the real Jesus – not our concept of Jesus, but the real Jesus – there’s always the question of – “what does that mean for our life” – so that when we do meet Him we can as Luke says “stand up and raise our heads” with confidence without zero fear of being crushed? <br />
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And so let me first be clear on what the answer is not. The answer is not “roll up your sleeves and get to work.” There’s a bumper sticker that says, “Jesus is coming -- look busy!” Great bumper sticker, bad theology. Because – if we listened carefully to today’s Gospel, there’s only one thing Jesus says that will last, that has ultimate significance, and that won’t pass away. <br />
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And that’s His word to us. “Heaven and earth will pass away,” he says, “but my words will not pass away.” <br />
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And Jesus’ word to us isn’t try harder, or shape up, or “I’m so disappointed get your act together.” No, Jesus’ word to us is one of grace. “Come to me all you who are tired and burdened and I will give you rest. “Fear not little flock,” as He says in Luke 12, “For it’s your Father’s pleasure to give you the Kingdom.” Or from today’s Gospel – “stand up and raise your heads.” <br />
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You see the word Gospel doesn’t mean good advice or good works or good luck trying to please God, the word Gospel literally means good news. And Jesus’ word to us, which will not pass away, is good news. And that’s why Advent reminds us that because Jesus alone is significant and Valuable it’s foolish to put too much emotional weight in anything we do and to shift our deepest hope in what He’s done for us. Because – heaven and earth may pass away, but his word – which is the good news that we are so precious to God that we’re worth dying for – that word will never pass away. <br />
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And to the extent that we rely on that word, we will be able to stand confidently before Jesus, knowing that His glory won’t be like a meteor that crushes us, nor will it be like a pen that barely makes a sound. But in a way that’s almost too mysterious to comprehend, because of what Jesus did on the cross, the experience of his mercy and grace and love will be so heavy, so weighty, so glorious, that it will crush our sins without crushing us; and that this experience of God will transforms us, once and for all. <br />
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Because – the message of Advent is not get busy being more religious and learn to make Jesus your glory. But rather, it’s rest, watch wait and ponder what it means for you to be Jesus’ glory. For we can only make Him significant to us to the extent that we know how significant we are to Him. <br />
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And so, don’t let your heart be weighed down with the worries of this life. Jesus doesn’t want this day to catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. But root your life in Jesus’ word to you, which will not pass away. You are so incredibly weighty to Him. Knowing that will make Him weighty to you. <br />
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Christ has died, Christ has risen and Christ will come again. And so when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near. <br />
John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-12035690425872148602012-10-01T14:46:00.001-07:002012-10-01T14:47:32.015-07:00save salt IN yourself<br />
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Good morning. It’s really nice to look out and see some familiar faces. For those of you that don’t know me my name’s John Newton and I work as Bishop Doyle’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation, which means a big part of my job is to give voice to that process by which God takes us into His arms and makes us more like Himself. But before going to work for the Diocese I was here. And I have say, standing up here, it feels awesome to be back and I’ve been looking forward to this ever since Mike invited me. (Thank you, by the way!) <br />
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And so in returning to this place I love, where I learned to be a priest; I had big plans to preach a fluffy, upbeat sermon about love or heaven or puppy dogs, you know something to make us all feel good! But then I got the readings. And they put me in touch with something I’ve been present to in my own life lately – and that’s the massive amount of pain we experience in life. As Jesus once said “in this world you will have trouble.” Thank you Captain Obvious, but what are we supposed to do with it? <br />
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Well, I’m reading a book by Daniel Kahneman (KAH-neh-mun) called Thinking (comma), Fast and Slow. Kahneman won a Nobel Prize for inventing behavioral economics, but his specialty is thinking about how we think. And what he says is that we’ve two brains (metaphorically speaking) – a fast brain, and a slow brain. Our fast brain, which runs the show, is always generating a narrative about reality and the meaning of our place in it, and our slow brain, or what we call “thinking,” is lazy, limited and typically accepts whatever story our fast brain spits out. Now this wouldn’t be a problem if our fast brain cared about truth. But it doesn’t. All the fast brain cares about is giving a tidy, coherent narrative to the slow brain. And so our brain prefers a coherent lie to a complex truth. But second, pain lingers before our story-telling, “fast” brain much longer than beauty and joy. And because we’re hell-bent on being the hero of whatever story our brain spits out, when we experience pain, our natural programming is to take on the role of the victim. And as a result we control, blame, manage, manipulate and diagnose others because we’re the victim and they – whether it’s our spouse, co-workers, the Democrats, the conservatives, the Aggies, God, Eldad, Medad, someone casting out demons that shouldn’t be – they are the problem and they need to change. The problem of course is that changing people and most of our circumstances doesn’t work, and so as a result we complain, choosing the way of ingratitude. <br />
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Now maybe that wasn’t necessary to tell you about Kahneman’s book. Perhaps my “fast brain made me do it” to impress you. But looking at today’s reading from Numbers – makes sense, doesn’t it? The people of Israel are in the wilderness because there are certain lessons God wants them to learn. Because biblically speaking, the wilderness is that painful but good place where God lovingly refines and breaks and shapes us into people more like Himself. But the Israelites don’t want to be refined or broken or shaped – and so they complain, choosing the way of ingratitude. <br />
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You see the Israelites don’t like the food. Apparently, the supernatural manna that God’s been sending from heaven isn’t quite up to their standards and so they complain. And because complaining’s contagious Moses starts complaining, too: “God,” he says, “is there a reason you put me in charge of these whiners? I’m not their mother. And so either get a new leader for these people or, if you don’t like that option, kill me.” (Now just so you know, we priests are much holier than Moses and never think that) But here’s Moses – chosen to play the leading role in the great salvation story that’s unfolding – but because the wilderness is painful Moses does what he’s programmed to do. He complains, choosing the way of ingratitude. <br />
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And from there the complaining only gets worst. Joshua gets word that Eldad and Medad are prophesying and Joshua wants them to stop. Because if just anyone can start prophesying things will get out of control. (Makes you think Joshua would have made a good Episcopalian). But anyway Joshua complains, choosing the way of ingratitude. <br />
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Now, something I do want to be clear about: pain isn’t good, but it reflects the brokenness of creation, and of course God isn’t cruel. In fact, the mystery of our faith is that God endured more of humanity’s pain than we can fathom, and that even now He shares in it. And so pain isn’t good. But, I do believe Jesus’ witness is that God can use it for good, and that whether or not we believe this will decide whether or not we live grateful lives. <br />
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You see life’s complex. There’s a lot of heart breaking pain and life-giving beauty and to live in that tension, taking it all in, the good, the bad, the known, unknown, that requires more prayer and thought-full-ness than we often admit. It’s a lot easier to buy whatever coherent, albeit untruthful narrative our broken mind is spitting out – where we’re the victim, and someone else is the problem. It’s easier to complain than to cry. It’s easier to blame than to pray. It’s easier to take up our case than it is to take up our cross. But the latter is always what Jesus invites us to do. <br />
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And so here’s the word I believe the Spirit’s given me to speak this week – let me come back during Easter and I promise it’ll be more upbeat. <br />
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Let the pain you feel in your own life descend into the center of your heart and trust that in time Jesus will use it for good. I’m almost certain that this is what Jesus means in today’s Gospel when he tells his disciples to “have salt in themselves.” <br />
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Because – we’re all deeply wounded and our temptation is to numb those wounds with more stuff or more achievements, or to spend an inordinate amount of time being angry and complaining about the people we think are keeping us down. But you know what we’re not inclined to do? Put salt on our wounds. Because yes salt can heal but it also hurts! But don’t you see, that’s exactly what Jesus is offering in today’s Gospel – which is an extension of what he’s been offering them all along – and that’s the cross, both His and ours. <br />
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You see in a world of pain we’re incredibly creative at numbing and blaming complaining, but what I believe Jesus would have us do is run into His arms, like the child in last week’s Gospel, with all of our wounds, warts and pain, so that as we learn to rest in Him we might be healed and transformed. One of my favorite authors, Henry Nouwen, puts it like this. <br />
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You have been wounded in many ways. The more you open yourself to being healed, the more you will discover how deep your wounds are. You will be tempted to become discouraged, because under every wound you will find others. Your search for true healing will be a suffering search. The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through. </i> <br />
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And I think Nouwen’s right. It’s when we live our pain through, or take up our cross, that whatever wilderness we find ourselves in becomes the fruitful soil that prepares us for the Promised Land. You see whenever we break the Eucharistic bread, we’re not just making a statement about what happened to Jesus, but also to God about what we’re asking Him to do to us. For as we eat the broken bread we at the same time ask God to break us: to break us of our self-sufficiency, to break us of the stories we believe where we’re always the victim and not the recipients of God’s love; and to break the stone wall we’ve erected around our heart so that it can become soft and tender like Jesus’. <br />
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Apparently when the great Michelangelo was asked how he carved his magnificent David, he replied, “Well, I looked inside the marble and just took away the bits that weren’t David.” And I would submit that each one of us is like a wonderful block of marble, and that our job is to run into Jesus’ arms. But God’s job is to chisel, which is a painful image – kind of like having salt in our wounded selves. But don’t you see, that’s why living our wounds through, or taking up our cross, is so important. It’s the primary way God makes us more like himself. <br />
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And so I have no idea what’s happening in your life right now, but my guess, because you’re human, is that there’s some place in your life that’s hurting. And again, that’s not good. But do you believe God can use it for good – that the wilderness has a purpose? That’s a different question altogether, which every week we give you the opportunity to answer. You see in a few minutes you’ll be invited to receive the Eucharist, a word that means “thanksgiving.” And so when you approach the altar, hold out your hands in gratitude – especially if you feel broken – and receive God’s provision for the wilderness. <br />
John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-38161237705221749182012-09-19T10:20:00.000-07:002012-09-19T10:20:02.011-07:00lose life, find life <br />
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<i>“For those who want to save their life,” Jesus said, “will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the Gospel, will save it.”</i> <br />
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“I came that they might have life,” Jesus said, “and have it more abundantly.” “If you want to save your life you’re going to have to lose it.” In other words, I came to give you life; I came to take your life. What are we to make of this tension? I’m not sure Peter knew what to do with it, probably why his response was to rebuke Jesus. But I think we can do better – and so how do we find our live by losing it? <br />
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Well, to tackle that question there are two little words we need to look at that capture the ethos of life in 21st century America – and that’s “if only.” If only I had a newer car, a bigger house, a better paying job, or if only this circumstance would change or that person shape up – if only that would happen all would be well. And so the worldview we inherit might be summed up as follows: “If any want to become fulfilled, let them deny nothing, take up their urge, and follow it. For those who want to save their life will fill it.” <br />
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Now in complete contrast to this “if only” me-centered view stands the Christian Gospel. And the wisdom of the Gospel is that if we try and cling to our ambitions, wishes and whatever our “if only” agenda is – we’re going to forfeit the very thing that we seek.<br />
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You see in today’s Gospel Peter confesses his faith in Jesus as the Messiah, and seconds later begins rebuking him for speaking of the cross. You see Peter has a really clear picture of what a successful Messiah looks like. The Messiah’s supposed to restore the Jewish kingdom by defeating the Roman authorities – not be defeated by them. And so when Jesus says that his strategy is to suffer and to die, Peter decides to intervene. And in Matthew’s account of this same incident, this is what Peter says. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” <br />
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But you know what Peter’s really thinking? “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to me.” You see Peter – he just wants what we all want. To be happy. To be whole. To know who he is and why he’s here. But Peter thinks that in order for this to happen, Jesus needs to start acting like a proper Messiah and supporting Peter’s ambitions and wishes. If only he’d overthrow Rome and appoint me to His cabinet, Peter imagines, then I’ll finally be important, happy and whole. I’ll know who I am and why I’m here, if only that would happen. <br />
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You see Peer didn’t rebuke Jesus because He was looking out for Jesus. Peter rebuked Jesus because He was looking out for Peter – because he was trying to find his own happiness his own way. And what I want us to see is that even though Jesus’ response seems harsh, what Jesus is actually doing is showing sympathy. Because the point of today’s Gospel is not that Jesus wants us to stuff the deepest desires of our heart. It’s that he wants us to find the deepest desires of our heart in Him and in His mission to save the world. “You want to be happy?” Jesus says, “You want to be whole? Then deny yourself. Take up your cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life are going to lose it, but those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.” <br />
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And so here’s the primary thing I believe Jesus wants us to give up, and idea I believe is central to lifelong Christian formation. Jesus would have us let go of that “if only” mentality that says it’s possible to have the deepest desires of our heart met outside of an intimate relationship with Him and His mission to save the world. This is how CS Lewis puts it in Mere Christianity. <br />
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<i>Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favorite wishes every day: submit with every fiber of your being. Keep back nothing. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in. </i> <br />
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Now, I don’t know about you, but this sounds like an impossible task. I know how hard it is to submit to the death of our ambitions and favorite wishes because deep down we cling to the illusion that our ambitions and favorite wishes are the key to our happiness. I’m still learning to do it. But what I’m coming to believe is that God has ambitions and wishes for our life, and that tapping into God’s plan usually requires crucifying our own, but that this is crucial because God’s plan is where abundant life is found. <br />
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And that’s challenging work, and so let’s start with the good news. We’re here. We’ve gathered this morning to hear the Word of God, to confess our sins, and to reach out our hands and ask to be fed. And so a big part of the process is showing up and acknowledging that formation is a lifelong process. I mean think about it, Peter’s been following Jesus for a while now and he still doesn’t grasp what it means to be a disciple. And in some sense this is true for all of us. <br />
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But this morning I do want to leave you with two practical tools that will sustain us on our journey – and that’s take up your cross, and take up Jesus’ cross. <br />
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And so first, let the pain you feel in your own life descend into the center of your heart. I think this is what Jesus means when he says, “take up your cross.” You see we’re all deeply wounded and our temptation is to numb those wounds with more stuff or more achievements, or to spend an inordinate amount of time being angry and disappointed at the people we think are keeping us down. To think that “if only” Jesus would fix this person or that situation is akin to Peter rebuking Jesus for not “fixing Rome.” You see, Jesus didn’t come to numb our pain but to permanently heal the collective pain of the world, but because God’s salvation will culminate at the end of time, our vocation, here and now, is to live our pain as fully and courageously as our Lord fully lived His. And this is a big part of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. Because – if we’re running away from our pain, as Peter ran away from his, we’ll be stuck on that exhausting treadmill of trying to numb our pain or we’ll blame others for it, moving further away from God because we think He should be fixing it. But the Christian’s job is to live it – to allow the pain in our lives pierce our heart so that it becomes softer and more compassionate and more expectant for that future Kingdom. This, I believe, is what Jesus means when he says “take up your cross.”<br />
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But second, take up Jesus’ cross. After all, that question Jesus asks us – “what will you give in return for your life?” – that’s the same question the Father asked Jesus. “Jesus, what will you give in return for their life?” And the good news of the Christian Gospel is that Jesus had an answer. “My own. I will give my life in return for theirs.” You see at the heart of the Christian Gospel is our belief that Jesus’ work is perfect and finished and that we’re saved not because we’re good, but because God is. And that’s why the cross we spend the most time focusing on should not be our own but Jesus’. And that, by the way, is why the daily reading of scripture. Because it’s one thing to “know” Jesus’ cross “here,” but another thing entirely to know it here. And it’s only when Jesus’ cross becomes more real to our hearts than anything else that our lives begin to change.<br />
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Because the same question Jesus asked his disciples he asks to you and me – Who do you say that I am? And the mystery of our faith is that He’s God, that He came to both take our life and to give us a new one, and that embracing this process is the only place meaning and happiness and wholeness are to be found. “If only” we embraced this journey with our whole heart. <br />
John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-20548169996673918712012-09-12T13:03:00.002-07:002012-09-12T13:03:55.063-07:00faith in WHAT<b><br />
TO LISTEN ONLINE</b><br />
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http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/FAITHINWHAT.mp3<br />
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<i>“My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For what good is it if you say you have faith but do not have works. Can faith save you?” </i><br />
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A couple weeks ago I was with a friend and in a moment of vulnerability he told me he didn’t understand how it is that I, or for that matter anyone, could have faith. Having faith in today’s world, he thought, was altogether absurd. <br />
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Clearly it was an upbeat conversation. <br />
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But I do want you to sit with this question a bit – is the whole concept of having faith absurd? Is that really how things work – some people have faith, and others don’t? <br />
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Because – I would say that answering this question well is central to lifelong Christian formation. Because – when it comes to faith, everyone has it. You see this idea – that some people have faith, and that others don’t, is really popular. But it’s simply not true. Everyone has faith.<br />
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For example, I believe that we’re here because of a personal, loving Creator and that the meaning of existence culminates in the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus. And of course, a lot of people believe that we’re here by random chance – that there is no grand design. But here’s the catch – both are faith perspectives, both are built on systems of belief. Because everyone has faith. And there are no exceptions to this rule. <br />
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Now, stay with me for a bit, because it’s really important to understanding what it means to be committed to our own formation. Not only does everyone have faith, but how we act is tied to our faith. In other words, we all make decisions every day about what’s important and about how to treat people. And these decisions, or how we behave, always come from our deepest beliefs about ourselves and the world. And so when it comes to how we live, we’re not talking about faith or no faith, belief or no belief. We’re talking about faith in what? Belief in what? And so the question isn’t whether or not we have faith? The question is always, what are we consistently choosing to put our faith in, and how are we taking responsibility for doing that? <br />
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And that’s the question that James demands that we wrestle with in today’s epistle. “My brothers and sisters,” he asks – “do you, with your acts of favoritism, really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?” You see, James lived in a world where social class was really important – where it was expected that people with wealth, power, and influence would be treated with a certain dignity. And lower class people, it was widely believed, just didn’t deserve the same respect. Plain and simple, that’s just what James’ world believed. And apparently, James’ community – people who claimed to believe in Jesus – drank the kool-aid. And so in James’ community, the rich were treated like kings and the poor were treated like paupers. And so James just has to ask – this community that claims to believe in Jesus – “do you, with your acts of favoritism, really believe?” Do you really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? <br />
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Now the reason I say all this is because it’s nearly impossible to grow spiritually if we fail to understand what faith actually is. And we do that when we reduce faith to a series of statements that can either be “accepted” or “rejected.” But that isn’t how faith works, which is why he asks do you really believe? Because faith, whether we’re religious or not, is what’s operating inside our hearts shaping how we live our lives. And that’s ultimately what James wants us to wrestle with: what’s shaping our life? Faith in Jesus Christ? Or faith in something else?<br />
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Now to be clear, James’ community wasn’t bad or overly-hypocritical or even that different from most churches. But like all of us – myself included – James’ community hadn’t allowed the Gospel to penetrate their hearts. For example, consider Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians: “for you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” In other words, can you hear the audacity of Paul’s claim? His claim is that the King of Creation emptied himself and was treated like a pauper so that we – paupers by nature – might reign for eternity with God as Kings. And isn’t that the Gospel? That God became poor so we might become rich? Because if that’s really true, it’s not enough to accept the Gospel. Or to say we have faith in the facts. Because accepting the Gospel will never change our lives. But really believing it, allowing the truth that in Christ we are Kings and richer than we could ever imagine – allowing that truth to penetrate our hearts – that has the power to change our life. To change our church. That has the power to change our world. <br />
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And so with that being said, here’s what I’d like to offer you this week – two things. <br />
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First, pay attention to how you live and ask yourself – what does my life tell me about what I believe? For example, say you discover there’s a grudge you refuse to let go of, ask yourself – do I really believe that forgiving others is the best way to live, or do I believe Jesus was naive? Do I really believe I need forgiveness? Or that God also hates the person that I hate? Is that what I believe? Or maybe you find there’s “no time” to devote to your relationship with God, ask yourself – do I really believe that spending time with God – scripture, solitude, silence, service – will change my life? You may say you believe that, but if you’re not doing it, do you really believe God longs to spend time with you? <br />
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Again, I am not saying we’re bad or that we’re hypocrites. No, I’m saying that we’re Kings, royalty, adopted children of God, co-heirs with Christ, and that the bulk of our problems come from the fact that this amazing reality hasn’t fully penetrated our hearts. <br />
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You see the truth is some of the beliefs that currently shape our lives are absurd. To believe that we should usually get our way, or that we have to look out for number one or that there’s nothing beyond what we can see or touch or feel or my favorite, that we’re always the victim – not one of these beliefs is consistent with really believing in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ. And so this week pay attention to how you act to see what you really believe. <br />
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Second, take responsibility for becoming a person more like Jesus. You see our transformation may be God’s work, but God does ask us to show up. God will send the wind. But if we’re not in the habit of putting up the sails the boat’s just not going to move. And as Episcopalians there are certain ways we put ourselves in the presence of God to be transformed – through our liturgy, the sacraments, the devotional reading of scripture, meeting Jesus Christ in the poor and needy, silence, solitude, and above all else community. And that’s why this church is so important. You see our faith in Christ may be personal but it’s definitely not private. And so taking responsibility for our lives before God is a communal effort. It means getting involved, taking ownership and rearranging our priorities. But I know you’ve got a rector that’s excited about leading you in that effort. <br />
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Because at the end of the day formation is about growing into a salvation that’s we’ve already received. Because already we’re kings, royalty, adopted sons and daughters of God, but really believing that – well, that’s a lifelong journey. And so don’t think that formation is about doing good deeds to make God proud of us. It’s about tapping into the abundance of life that Jesus offers, becoming more like Him from the inside out, and living our lives with increasing purpose, freedom, joy, confidence, fruitfulness and meaning as we become more like Him. After all, Christianity isn’t about accepting Jesus Christ. Christianity is about embracing Jesus Christ. <br />
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You see, everyone here has faith. The question is not do we have faith or not. The question is always, what will we put our faith in? <br />
John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-76037853644999491412012-08-28T07:11:00.001-07:002012-08-28T07:11:41.252-07:00give more, live more <br />
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<i>“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood,” Jesus said, “abide in me, and I in them.”</i><br />
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Well, good morning. My name’s John Newton and I serve as Bishop Doyle’s Canon for Lifelong Christian formation and so a big part of my job is to be present with our parishes and to talk about what it means to risk finding our life, not in this world, but as we consume more of Jesus. And I’m really excited to be here this morning, but, I’m not going to sugar coat it. My theme is stewardship in general, but money in particular. <br />
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That being said, I’m present to the fact that already you may not like me. I’ve already counted four frowns. You see money makes us anxious because it’s our safety net, and I get that. When I was a kid I’ll never forget saving my first $100. Any guesses on the first thing I purchased? A $30 safe to secure my $70 fortune. Right? Because – money’s like a high wall around us making us feel safe, which is why the thought of losing it makes us anxious. <br />
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And there’s a really good reason for that: we live in a world that says freedom and peace and life are purchased and that money is the key. There’s an old joke about a Sunday school that asks her kids, “Do you know where little boys go if they don’t put their money in the collection plate?” “Yes ma’am,” a boy blurted out. “They go to the movies.” And doesn’t that just sum it up? We’ve been trained to believe that if give more we’ll live less – that upping our pledge or giving more of our self will cost us freedom and peace and life.<br />
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You see there are only two views of what it means to experience abundance of life. There’s the view we inherit from our culture, which says abundance of life is about consuming stuff and living a life of ease and convenience. And so naturally, in this view, money is important. It’s our purchasing power – the way we satiate our appetites. <br />
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But then there’s Jesus’ view, which says abundance of life is experienced to the extent that we participate in God’s mission, losing our life to advance God’s Kingdom. In other words, Jesus’ view is the exact opposite of what our world would have us believe, for He says that when we give more we live more.<br />
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And so I want to be clear. We don’t give more money to make God proud of us. We don’t give to keep the doors open and the lights on. We don’t give to feel better about ourselves. No, we give as an expression of our faith that by taking a risk and partnering with God in His mission we will experience the abundant life Jesus said he came to give us. <br />
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Because – you and I are consumers. Not one of us generates life from within, which means we have to take something in if we are to live. And so the question is not, “will we consume.” The question is always, what must we consume to have life in abundance? <br />
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And in today’s Gospel Jesus answers that question. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood,” he said, “abide in me, and I in them.” In other words, those who consume me, who digest me, who take Me into the very center of their soul, will experience the abundance of life that I came to give. St. Paul speaks of this in Galatians when he says, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Paul had digested Jesus fully. He experienced shipwreck and stoning and hunger and yet could still say, “I have learned the secret of being content in all circumstances” – words he wrote, by the way, from a jail cell. And so the question is never “will we consume,” but, “What must we consume to truly live?” <br />
And for the Christian the answer is not a bigger house, or a nicer suit or a faster car but the Lord Jesus Christ. It is only when we eat Him and drink Him that we live. <br />
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Now, you may be wondering that this has to do with money. Money is not evil. But as Jesus himself once noted, we cannot serve God and money. In other words, we have to choose – every day of our lives – what we will consume in the hope that it will generate life for us? In other words, does giving more mean living less? Or, was Jesus right? Is giving more something we must do to become more fully alive? And to be a person of faith is to take our stand with Jesus and to risk losing our life in order to find it. <br />
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And so what I’d like to do now is give you three practical things you can do to risk stepping a bit more into the abundance of life Jesus offers, and that’s – give more, consume more, and be encouraged. <br />
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First, give more. And I mean that in two senses. First, give more of your money. If you don’t currently tithe I encourage you to make that a goal and to begin taking steps to move in that direction. You see we don’t give because someone else needs us to give. We give more because we need to give. Again, what’s at stake is abundance of life, and in the Kingdom of God giving more always means living more. But second, give of yourself to the mission of this church! You see the question is never does the church have a mission, the question is always does God’s mission have a church! God is at work – right now! – drawing people’s heart to know and love His Son. He’s at work feeding the poor and clothing the naked. But how will Hope Episcopal be present in that mission? And that’s a question you must give more of yourself to answer faithfully. <br />
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Second, consume more. Consume more Jesus. Study scripture, pray, worship, build authentic relationships marked by love, vulnerability and gratitude. Only those who eat Jesus’ flesh and drink His blood will live and as Christians there are certain ways we do that. And consuming Jesus isn’t a hobby or a morning quiet time. It’s a life. And what I am coming to learn is that there is always more of Jesus we can take in. And so consume more of Him. <br />
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And then third, be encouraged! In today’s Gospel Jesus says that no one can come to Him unless it is granted by the Father. In other words, you’re not here this morning because your parents were Episcopalian, or because you’re just really spiritual. No, you’re here because God, through His Spirit, has brought you here. And He who began a good work in you, Paul says, will bring it to completion. Our job is to partner with God in completing what He’s already begun and giving more – more of our money, and more of our self – to God’s work should always encourage us. Because – God does not give up on his projects. <br />
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And so I want to end this morning by telling a parable that may bring to light some of what I’ve been trying to say. <br />
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<i>A certain flock of geese lived together in a barnyard with very high walls around it. Because the corn was good and the barnyard was secure, these geese would never take a risk. But one day a very wise philosopher goose came among them and so every week they listened quietly and attentively to what he had to say. “My fellow geese,” he would say, “can you seriously imagine that this barnyard, with great high walls around it, is all there is to existence?” <br />
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“No, for I tell you, there is a greater world outside, a world of which we are only dimly aware. But alas, here we remain in this barnyard, our wings folded, content to puddle in the mud, never lifting our eyes to the heavens which should be our home.”<br />
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Now these geese thought this was very fine lecturing. “How poetical,” they thought. “How profoundly existential.” And so often the philosopher spoke of the advantage of flight, calling on the geese to be what they were. After all, they had wings and, “What were wings for, but to fly with?” <br />
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And week after week the geese were uplifted, inspired, and moved by the philosopher’s message. They even hung on his every word. They devoted hours, weeks, months to a thorough analysis of his doctrines. They produced learned treatises on the ethical and spiritual implications of flight. All this they did. But one thing they never did. <br />
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They did not fly. For the corn was good, and the barnyard was secure. </i><br />
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I know in my own life how tempting it is to stay in the barnyard. But I also know that God created us to fly – here and now as we participate in His mission – and that freedom and peace and above all else life are found in taking a risk and giving more to live more. Because – it is true that freedom and peace and life are purchased, but not by us and not with money. No, Jesus purchased these things for us with his blood on the cross. And the same Lord invites us to take up our cross, and to experience freedom, life and peace as we consume him, digest him, and Him into the very center of our soul trusting that as we give more, we live more. <br />
Only God knows what we can and cannot give, and no matter what God doesn’t condemn us. There is nothing we can do to make God more proud of us than He already is. But God does want us to experience life more abundantly. And He wants us to take responsibility for what we will consume to do so. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me,” Jesus said, “and I in them.” AMEN. <br />
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John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-50463170882338920172012-06-19T09:01:00.000-07:002012-06-19T09:02:05.846-07:00what the Lord sees<br />
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TO LISTEN</b><br />
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<i>“The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”</i><br />
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A few years ago I traveled to Burma for a month of mission work with a group of seminarians. And one of the things our team was brought in to do was to lead a country-wide retreat for teenagers from all over Burma. And I have to say, these teenagers were bold and curious, and wanted to know all about us and about our country – were we married or dating, and if not, what was our problem? What do Americans do for fun? And since the latest Hollywood trends were about fifteen years out of date, every Burmese teen just had to know the latest scoop on America’s most celebrated and talented actor – Arnold Schwarzenegger. And so there was a lot of giggling and laughter, and the mood started off really light– that is until one young man raised his hand. After speaking passionately for a few minutes in a language that I did not understand, the translator looked at me, somewhat saddened and slightly embarrassed, and told me his question. Why is it that some people have a soft heart, and other people have a stony heart? <br />
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His name was Pwe Thein, and he had traveled for eighteen hours to be with us from a remote village in Burma full of ethnic tension and political persecution. Pwe Thein had experienced the full weight of what stony hearts could do to his family and to his country. And Pwe Thein, a soft-hearted disciple of Jesus, wanted to know why. Why is it that some people have a soft heart, and other people have a stony heart? <br />
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Perhaps we’d use different language, but I think we understand his question. After a century shattered by two world wars, the Holocaust, the Atomic bomb, and terrorism, we’ve come to accept that stony hearts are a reality in our world. After all, we see stony hearts in our co-workers, in our friends, and in the people we interact with on a day to day basis. Stony hearts are behind every hurtful word, every rude remark, every silent stare, and every critical comment. And let’s be honest - we see them in ourselves. I’ve got a stony heart. And so do you. If we didn’t have stony hearts, I’m not really sure we’d need a savior.<br />
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Now with that in mind let’s look at today’s reading from the Old Testament where God sends Samuel to find a new king for the people of Israel. And just to give you a little background the people of Israel having been living in the Promised Land for a while now, but as Moses predicted, the people have consistently hardened their heart, disobeyed God and things are spiraling out of control. And so the people go to Samuel and demands for themselves a king. <br />
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Now, this request actually breaks God’s heart, because the whole point in bringing them to Canaan in the first place was so that they’d be different than everyone else and that their light would draw the world to God. You see God wanted to be their king. And that’s why you may recall God’s words to Samuel from last week: “they haven’t rejected you, but it’s Me they’ve rejected from being king over them.”<br />
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But still God does give them what they want and Saul becomes the first king of Israel. And this turns out to be a disaster. Saul disobeys God, mistreats his people and accumulates glory for himself. His heart becomes stonier and stonier over time. And so God, because he loves his people, decides a regime change is necessary. And that’s where today’s story from 1 Samuel picks up, with God sending Samuel to Jesse in search of a new king. <br />
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And so Samuel goes to Bethlehem to find Jesse and his sons, and the first man to parade in front of Samuel is Eliab, who’s tall and strong and looks like a warrior. I mean, Samuel’s fooled! “Surely, this is a King!” But, God rebukes Samuel. “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” <br />
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C.S. once said, “People don’t need to be instructed; they need to be reminded.” And I do not believe it’s possible to be reminded too many times of what God says here. The Lord doesn’t see as mortals see, but God always looks at the heart. <br />
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You see our world teaches us to base our worth, and to judge others, on so many transient things – our appearance, our status, our achievements, out net worth, our moral record and the list goes on. <br />
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We look at other people, and we look at ourselves, and these are the filter through which we see. But not God; God always sees the heart. <br />
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And what this means for the Christian is that nothing is more important than who we become in here, which is what Christian formation is all about. In other words, it is our character, not our skill-set or eloquence or knowledge or moral record, that enables God to use us for His purpose. And what I take this to mean is that we are responsible for becoming soft-hearted people. <br />
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Now, I’d like to pause at this point and clear up a few misconceptions. First, no one chooses to have a stony heart. No child chooses to grow up to be cold or distant or impatient. No adult rationally chooses to be weighed down by the stones of anger and pride and contempt. Our world has taught us these things. We’ve inherited these unhealthy behaviors and attitudes that, over time, have made our hearts stony. <br />
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Second – our world would have us believe that stony people can’t change. As the old adage goes, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” But in today’s reading from II Corinthians, we see that Paul could not disagree more. In fact, the transformation of the human heart is exactly what Paul has in mind when he says, “if anyone is in Christ there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new.” In other words what Paul says is that God has given His word to renovate us from the inside out and our job is to partner with God in this incredibly important work. <br />
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And of course we know why this work is important – it’s because the heart, above anything else, is what God sees. God doesn’t see the mask we wear, or the role we play or the person we pretend to be. But God always sees the heart. <br />
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And so for those of us who want to be faithful of us who want to be faithful we can be reminded that God isn’t looking for religious rule-keepers. God isn’t looking for the fearless and the tearless. God isn’t looking for warriors like Eliab, Abinadab, or Shammah. No, our God’s looking people who are willing to be changed; even if that’s someone like David – the person no one ever could have expected. <br />
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A long time ago the prophet Ezekiel wrote the following: “a day is coming when I will give you a new heart and a new spirit; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and will give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you, and will teach you to observe my commandments.” If you remember nothing else from today’s sermon, please hear me now: Jesus offers us this new heart, this new spirit. He invites us to come to Him, to submit to Him, and to let him reign in our hearts. <br />
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And so I’d like to return to Pwe Thein’s question. Why is it that some people have a soft heart, and other people have a stony heart? The truth is, I really don’t have an answer. I really don’t know why God’s grace radically transforms some people and not others. But what I do know is that if I base my life on the truth that in Christ I am a new creation, and commit my life to the renovation of my heart, that my life will be incredibly rich, meaningful, and eternal, and that everything else will fall into place. I also know that if we’re committed to something more than this – like our appearance, status, net worth or moral record – that like Israel in today’s reading we are rejecting God from being King over us. And I know that far more important in life than what we accomplish is who we become – that character matters. I know we’ll always make mistakes – that even the most committed disciples of Jesus are still clumsy and awkward and stony, which is why you and I need a savior in the first place. And most importantly, I know that we have a savior – that the same God who rolled the stone away that first Easter morning still moves stones – stones of anger and pride and contempt – and that beneath these stones is a soft heart of flesh. <br />
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Why is it that some people have a soft heart, and other people have a stony heart? I don’t know why. But I do know that our heart, more than anything else, is what God sees, and that in this stony world, I’d like to have a soft heart like Jesus. What about you? <br />John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-30146179866318627372012-05-27T12:24:00.001-07:002012-05-27T12:24:37.739-07:00i HATE pentecost<br />
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<b>To listen online:</b><br />
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/pentecost.mp3 <br />
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<i>We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.</i><br />
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Every once in a while I sit down to write a sermon and get stuck. And I’ve got a low threshold for stuck-ness. I don’t have time for it. Four hours waiting, just staring at a blank screen is not my idea of a good time, but that’s what happened Wednesday. <br />
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And not for lack of preparation – I read the readings. I made notes. I read commentaries. But nothing clicked. So I browsed through old sermons hoping to recycle one. But I decided you deserve better. Plus, I didn’t have any – this is my first time preaching on Pentecost. And so I returned in despair to the blinking cursor. And 45 minutes later out it came, a much louder than I anticipated. “I hate Pentecost.” <br />
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It was funny. People in the office literally thought “the formation guy” was having a breakdown. But I wasn’t – I was having a breakthrough. Because, it’s true – I really do hate Pentecost. <br />
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You see Pentecost is about the initiative of God’s Holy Spirit. God sends the wind. God sends the fire. God comes to us. In other words, God is in control! And at a deep, deep level I hate that because I want to be in control. I am not always convinced that God knows what He’s doing. So I habitually decide to step in and help Him out. <br />
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For example, God says something like, Forgive seventy times seven. My reply is, “God, you may want to rethink that one – it’s not healthy to be a doormat?” Clothe the naked, God says. But I object. “Where they live is dangerous.” Share the Gospel with your friends. No thanks God, I want to keep my friends. In other words, God says, “Don’t eat the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of good and evil.” And our response is always to say “we know what’s good for ourselves, we’re in control,” and so we eat the fruit. And as a result “we fall.”<br />
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That’s what “the fall” is about after all – rebellious humanity seizing control, and it doesn’t end with Genesis 3, but with Genesis 11 – the story of Babel. And actually, today’s reading from Acts is playing off of Genesis 11. Because – Pentecost is a reversal of Babel. You see in Genesis 11 humanity decides they want to build a city, and in the midst of that city they plan to build a tower that reaches the heavens. But, as the story goes, God knocks the tower down, the people scatter, and everyone ends up confused. And I think the point here is that whatever city we build – the image, the achievements, the dreams, the pursuits, you know “the city” – it is always reduced to nothing. <br />
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And so here’s what I’ve come to believe about Pentecost. Pentecost asks us to shift our deepest hope from the city we do see to the city we don’t (2X). <br />
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You see Pentecost, which predates Christianity, commemorated two things in Judaism: First, the giving of the Law, where God came down at Mount Sinai. Second, Pentecost was the feast of “first fruits.” At the beginning of the harvest, people brought “the first fruits” of their crop to the temple to eat them in thanksgiving to God. The first sheaf was merely an installment of the massive harvest they would enjoy in the future. <br />
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And that’s exactly where the church is today. We have an installment – “the first sheaf” of the heavenly city we’re waiting for. Listen again to what Paul says in today’s reading from Romans:<br />
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We ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. <br />
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At the heart of the Christian Gospel is the belief that, when the curtain on history closes, a heavenly city will descend to this earth and that God will eliminate pain, death and fear forever. That’s the Christian hope – “the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come” as we say in our Creed. But, as we all know a bit too well, it hasn’t happened yet, and the entire creation will continue to groan – as will we – until it does. Our life is lived between promise and fulfillment. We don’t yet see fulfillment. But, what we do have is an installment – the “first fruits” of the Spirit. And that’s what Pentecost is all about. <br />
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Now I hope you know I was being a little facetious in saying that I hated Pentecost. But here’s what I meant. In a world of pain, fear and death, of course we want to control things to minimize pain, and not feel afraid, and to keep death as far away from our conscious mind as possible. But to live a Spirit-filled life, we cannot climb up. God must come down, and that means there’s something we have to let go of – control. <br />
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And so here’s the word I’d like to give you that best captures what Pentecost is all about: relinquishment. It’s a word that means to renounce, to surrender, to let go of, to release. And I want you to be present to double-meaning here. We renounce control, God releases God’s Spirit. And if we think about it, relinquishment is at the heart of the Christian Gospel. Jesus relinquished the privileges of godhood, reduced himself to nothing and took the form of a slave (Phil 2). Think of Gethsemane. “The bloodlike sweat falling to the ground. The human longing for the cup to pass. The final relinquishment: Not my will, but your will be done. (Luke 22: 39-46) In Jesus we see the complete surrender of the human will. You see Jesus Christ was many things. But one thing he wasn’t was in control (John 5:19). <br />
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Now, you might be wondering why this really matters. Right? Why not manage our own lives, stay out of people’s way, give a little money to the church, chart our own course, find our own dream, mind our own manners, and then die, go to heaven and let God take the wheel from there. Well, two things I’d like to say about that. <br />
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First, there are two views of what it means to live a fully-human, abundant life. The Western view, which says maximize pleasure and ease, minimize pain and discomfort, be nice, follow the rules, and pursue your own dream. And then, there is Jesus’ view – lose your life for me and for the sake of the Gospel and you’ll find it. Seek first the Kingdom of God and everything else will be added to you. Now hard as we may try to mesh these two views together, they’re incompatible. Abundant life is with found in Jesus’ way of relinquishment, or it isn’t. I submit that it is.<br />
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Second, the continual practice of relinquishment brings us to a priceless treasure – and that’s the crucifixion of the human will, which is what “Christian formation” is all about. God doesn’t want to destroy our will but transform it so that in time we come to freely will what God wills and to love what God loves, which by the way frees us from the tyranny of the self-sins that oppress us: self-sufficiency, self-pity, self-absorption, self-deception, self-depreciation, self-hatred, and a thousand more like them. Because losing our life, giving up control, is always a means to an end. The “end game” is always finding our life – abundant life – in Jesus through the power of the Spirit. As Søren Kierkegaard once put it, “God creates everything out of nothing – and everything which God will use he first reduces to nothing.” His point – our stubborn, rebellious will must be nailed to a cross with Jesus. <br />
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I do appreciate how hard relinquishment is. Trusting God with our family and reputation and money and deepest needs – that’s hard. It’s a lot easier to try and control those things ourselves – to build our own city. But remember, the city we build – the image, the achievements, the dreams, the pursuits –it’s always reduced to nothing. And that’s why Pentecost asks us to shift our deepest hope from the city we do see to the city we don’t.<br />
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God knocked Babel down. Do you trust God enough to let Him knock you down? Enough to let him come down? In other words, can we come to this meal – a mere installment of the great celebration that we’ll enjoy in the future – and ask that God break us like the bread we receive? I know. It’s hard. And that’s why we hate Pentecost. It’s a lot easier to build a tower than it is to wait for adoption. <br />
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And so let me leave you with a prayer written by Richard Foster. <br />
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<i>O Lord, how do I let go when I’m so unsure of things? I’m unsure of your will, … I’m sure of myself. [But] that really isn’t the problem at all, is it? The truth … is I hate the very idea of letting go. I really want to be in control. No, I need to be in control. I’m afraid to give up control, afraid of what might happen. Heal my fear, Lord. AMEN. </i>John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-13743058110273545382012-05-07T06:32:00.007-07:002012-05-07T06:43:19.290-07:00BEARING FRUIT<b>TO LISTEN ONLINE</b><br />
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/prune.mp3 <br />
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<i>Jesus said, I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word I’ve spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you.</i><br />
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So here’s the question I’d like to wrestle with this morning. How does spiritual growth happen? And of course the sister question – how does it not happen? <br />
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And here’s the paradox that makes talking about this so hard. Spiritual growth is not something we do, and yet there is something we must do! “My father is the vine grower!” It’s God’s work. “Unless you abide in me you will not grow.” It’s our work. That’s the paradox of spiritual formation. It is first and foremost God’s work! It’s our work. <br />
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And so first, spiritual growth isn’t something we make happen. And this is important for us to hear because most of us, when we decide to make a change, only have one plan – we roll up our sleeves and we try really, really hard. The only problem is that our willpower is actually pretty impotent. And I know that runs counter to what we’ve been told – “you can do anything you set your mind to!” But Christian Gospel would say that actually that’s not true. In the long run, trying harder to be like Jesus is a pretty poor strategy. Right? Because – we’ll either fail and feel shame, and upon feeling shame use something unhealthy to medicate our shame. Or worse, we’ll succeed, and feel pride, and eventually come to look down on people that don’t quite have it all together like we do. But either way, we’ve spiritually regressed. Because – before Jesus ever asks us to get out there and do what he did, Jesus asks us to submit to the Father’s pruning so that we can acquire His heart. Remember, the Pharisees were on a mission to change everyone. And they were unbearable. <br />
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And so spiritual growth isn’t primarily something we do. There is a big difference between bearing fruit and being productive. As Henry Nouwen once put it,<br />
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<i>“In our contemporary society, with its emphasis on accomplishment and success, we often live as if being productive is the same as being fruitful. Productivity gives us a certain notoriety and helps take away our fear of being useless. But if we want to live as followers of Jesus, we must come to know that products, successes, and results often belong more to the house of fear than the house of love.” (Lifesigns, 48-49)</i> <br />
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What Nouwen actually says here is revolutionary. He says our need to achieve and produce – whether in the world or in the spiritual life – more often than not comes not from a place of love, but a place of fear. You see I think our big problem is that we’re terrified that we have no value and so we try and produce it. We make the grades, we volunteer, we excel, we serve. Like the story of Babel in Genesis 11, we build not a tower but an image, and we take that into the world. And we say subconsciously what they did. “Let us make a name for ourselves.” After all, if we don’t make a name for ourselves – by being a good person or by making more money or by always being the funny one or perhaps getting a shinier – what will give us value? I’m reminded of the story of Martha and Mary in Luke chapter 10. Martha stays busy! She’s really productive serving Jesus, while Mary just sits adoringly at Jesus’ feet. And it’s Mary, according to Jesus, that chose the better part, which makes us wonder who Martha was really serving in the first place. <br />
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Spiritual growth isn’t something we do, and yet, we all know we have a part to play. And so where do we begin?<br />
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Well, I think first we need to hear, and keep returning, to what Jesus says in verse 3 – “you have already been cleansed.” The first thing that’s got to go is the idea that we’ve got something to prove, or that God will meet us halfway, but that we’ve got to do the rest. Babel is about making a name for ourselves. Baptism is about receiving a new name through grace. In fact, twice in the Bible God cries out, “it is finished!” The first is in creation, on the 7th day, and the second is from the cross. The point is that both creation and redemption belong to God and as far as the Bible is concerned they’re finished! Has the drama of salvation fully been played out yet in our lives or in our world? NO. But as Paul says in Philippians, “he who began a good work in you” – that is, God – will bring it to completion by the day of Christ Jesus. It’s finished. You have already been cleansed. <br />
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And here’s why this matters. Jesus says God wants to prune us. Now, that’s a painful image. The point is we don’t escape the knife. This means that in order to grow we have to be willing to face those things inside of us that we’re ashamed of and bring them into the light. We need to confess those things to God. We need to confess those things to each other. And that’s scary, which means we need a firm understanding that we’ve already been cleansed. Our identity, our name, is not tied to what we do, but to what God in Christ has already done for us. <br />
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That’s step 1 – knowing we’ve got nothing to prove. <br />
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Second, Jesus says abide. 8 times in 8 verses Jesus uses this word to describe the part we play in our spiritual growth. And this is a word that means “actively seek to remain.” We are to actively seek to remain in Jesus. <br />
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And so there are two key ingredients I’d like to point out – “abiding 101.” The first is authentic community where vulnerability is the norm. I don’t mean just going to church. I mean having a group of people where we’re in the habit of taking off our masks to confess where we need to be pruned. And so a personal example, I’m a control freak because at a deep, deep level part of me doesn’t believe that God is competent. And on top of that, my fear of abandonment can make me a spineless people-pleaser. Oh yea, and I also have an anger problem. Now, I did not know these things about myself last year. God only knows what I’ll discover next, but, it’s the knowledge that I’ve already been cleansed that will give me the courage to look. <br />
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Because – the way of God is the way of weakness. There was nothing “productive” about the crucifixion. But it did bear fruit. You see only in becoming small and weak and vulnerable could God save us. And so surely, this must mean something for our life together. We must learn to be honest and authentic and vulnerable. We are all branches on the same vine. We only abide in community. <br />
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But second, I believe it’s impossible to abide in Jesus unless Scripture becomes the primary lens through which we view life. And for a lot of us I know this is intimidating. But Jesus is clear – the way we abide in him is to let His words abide in us. You see the only way to stop trying to make a name for ourselves is to keep return to that sacred book that is so eager to name us. According to Ephesians we’re God’s masterpiece. According to Jeremiah God knit us together in the womb. According to 1 John we’re God’s beloved children. According to Matthew we’re the light of the world. Now, I’m sure you already know those things. But do you know those things? We abide in Jesus to the extent that his words abide in us. <br />
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And as we abide the Father will do His work. Apparently when Michelangelo was asked how he carved his magnificent David, he apparently replied, “I looked inside the marble and just took away the bits that weren’t David.”<br />
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Each one of us is like a wonderful block of marble. Our job is to abide. God’s job is to chisel. We are the clay, Isaiah says and God is the potter. <br />
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And so as you go out into the world this week, here’s what I leave you with. Trust. Trust that you’ve already been cleansed and don’t have anything to prove. Trust Jesus enough to actively remain in Him, which at a minimum requires authentic community and a continual return to scripture. Trust that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Christ Jesus. In God’s mind the statue, His masterpiece, is finished. <br />
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<i>I am the true vine, Jesus said, and my Father is the vine grower. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word I’ve spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you.</i>John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-62139868765233430222012-02-28T15:40:00.001-08:002012-02-28T15:42:52.244-08:00REPENT!<span style="font-weight:bold;">TO LISTEN ONLINE</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/repent.mp3 <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Jesus said, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” </span><br /><br /><br />This morning I’d like to talk about repentance. First of all, it’s Lent, and liturgically speaking Lent’s a “season of repentance.” But more than that, in today’s reading from Mark, we have Jesus’ first public words. “Repent,” he said, “the Kingdom of God has come near.” Repent! This is the word Jesus wanted to frame his entire ministry, which means we won’t understand what it means to grow in Christ unless we get repentance. <br /><br /><br />But what exactly is it? I’ll never forget watching a movie called The Mission in a 9th grade religion class. And in this one scene, Robert De Niro’s character, who’s lived a pretty evil life, decides to change his ways. And so the priest gives him a penance, which is to drag this bundle of stones up and down a mountain. Now, this bundle is unbearably heavy. In fact, it nearly crushes him. And I’ll never forget when my teacher paused that movie as De Niro was about to die trying to atone for his sins and saying, “Look! Now that is repentance.” But was she right? Is repentance what we do to atone for our sins? Should repentance make us feel guilty and unworthy? Because – in today’s Gospel Jesus did not say, “repent, and feel terrible!” He said, “Repent and believe the good news.” <br /><br /><br />Henry Nouwen once said that repentance is about “reclaiming our true identity.” Again, it’s reclaiming our true identity. And using this reading from Mark as our template, I want to define repentance as a continual process that involves three things: (1) a trip to the wilderness, (2) confirmation of an identity and (3) wholeheartedly embracing the good news. Again, repentance is about a trip to the wilderness, it’s about our identity, and it’s about embracing the good news. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Wilderness </span><br /><br /><br />And so first, repentance starts with a trip to the wilderness. Now notice, I said a trip; not our trip. Because in the Bible – whenever we go into the wilderness things always go badly. The people of Israel spent forty years there and if you want an accurate view of human nature just read about their experience. The Israelites were not faithful to God in the wilderness, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You see, there’s something inside our hearts that inhibits us from being faithful, and that inhibitor we call sin. And if we think our willpower’s what going to help us overcome our sin, we’ll find ourselves frustrated, time and time again, and our growth will level out. And so we rush off into the wilderness alone and just “try harder” to be better Christians. <br /><br /><br />Now, today you’re kicking off Monvee, a tool designed to help us grow spiritually by opening our eyes to what it is that gets in our way. I’ve done Monvee. I’m a Joseph. My primary inhibitor is anger. And I won’t lie. When I read that I got really ticked off. But here’s what’s fascinating. It’s actually Monvee’s nine inhibitors – anger, self-centeredness, dishonesty, envy, pride of knowledge, anxiety, greed, misplaced desires, and inaction – these are what kept Israel from being faithful in the wilderness. And they keep us from being faithful as well. <br /><br /><br />And so repentance is not about trying harder to be like Jesus. Because – you and I don’t need a model, or the perfect example to teach us how to live. What we need is a Representative. We need someone to do something for us that we cannot do for ourselves. And that’s why today’s Gospel isn’t about us going into the wilderness. It’s about Jesus going into the wilderness for us. Because – you can tell me to try harder to dunk a basketball on a ten foot goal, but I’ve an inhibitor – it’s called being five foot six. And trying harder’s not going to work. The same is true when it comes to our spiritual growth. And so repentance doesn’t begin when we go into the wilderness. It begins with our Lord Jesus Christ going there on our behalf. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Identity</span><br /><br /><br />But second, Jesus goes there for a purpose – and that’s to secure for us a new identity. You see there’s just something we’re all desperate for – and that’s a need to know we have worth. Our problems in life don’t come from not having faith; they come from putting our faith in the wrong things. We think a relationship will give us worth – but we break up, or the spark dies, and we’re back to feeling worthless. We think power will give us worth, so we climb the ladder and make it to the top, but then we’re empty because nothing’s there. <br /><br /><br />We are driven by our need for worth, and that drive is so strong we’ll put our faith in whatever we think will give it to us – success, money, approval, our kids, our job, or the great danger, our ability to keep all the religious rules. I mean, that’s what made the Pharisees feel “worthy,” and Jesus’ harshest criticism was reserved for them. But we’re all chasing something because we think that – whatever that is – will make us special, important, a somebody – because we think it’ll give us worth. <br /><br /><br />I would like to read you a quote, which comes from a leading thinker in today’s world. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I have an iron will, and all of my will has always been to conquer some horrible feeling of inadequacy. I push past one spell of it and discover myself as a special human being, and then I get to another stage and think I'm mediocre and uninteresting, again and again. My drive in life is from this horrible fear of being mediocre. And that's always pushing me. Because even though I've become somebody, I still have to prove I'm somebody. My struggle has never ended and it probably never will.</span><br /><br /><br />Anyone know who said that? It’s Madonna. You guys really need to read more Vogue magazine.<br /><br /><br />Or do you remember what Rocky said when he was trying to convince Adrienne that he needed to fight Apollo Creed? “I’m a nobody. I really don’t care if this guy splits open my head because all I want to do is go the distance. If I can go that distance, I’ll know for the first time in my life I’m not just another bum.” <br /><br /><br />It’s a question we’re all concerned with, and it’s a question the Gospel’s concerned with, how do we know that we’re not just another bum? Who or what gives us an identity? How do we know we have worth? <br /><br /><br />Well, when Jesus Christ was baptized he heard a voice. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Here’s my question. Have you heard God say that to you? Are you in the habit of hearing God say that to you? And if our gut reaction is “I’m not good enough,” we don’t yet get the Gospel. Because repentance is not about something we do, but about something our Lord has done for us – and that’s give us His very own identity, His status as a beloved, righteous, accepted, perfect child of God.<br /><br /><br />Perhaps the best definition of sin I’ve ever heard comes from Tim Keller, who says “sin is the despairing refusal to find your deepest identity in your relationship with God.” And that’s why repentance isn’t about trying harder. It’s about reclaiming our true identity; because the good news of the Christian Gospel is that when we put our faith in Christ God says to us the exact same thing God said to Jesus. “You are my Son, my daughter, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And so what this means is that we are not our reputation. We are not what we feel. We are not our achievements. We are not our mistakes. We are not our portfolio. We are not our IQ. Our name, our worth, has nothing to do with that; because in Christ, God gives His name, his worth, his righteousness to us freely as a gift. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Good news </span><br /><br /><br />And that’s why repentance is about embracing the good news. You know that’s what the word Gospel means, right? It doesn’t mean good advice, the word Gospel means good news. And the good news that Jesus Christ when into the wilderness for us. He lived the life we should have lived, and he died the death we should have died; because the cross, that was the ultimate wilderness. I want you to think back to Robert De Niro, whose penance was to carry that bundle of stones up and down the mountain. Those stones are a metaphor for our sin. And the weight of those stones is unbearably heavy. I mean, it nearly killed him. Let us not think repentance is about shouldering that burden ourselves. It’s about turning to the One who shouldered that burden for us a name, a worth and an identity that we’ll never find anywhere else. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Monvee growth challenge </span><br /><br /><br />Now what does this have to do with Monvee? Well, spiritual growth isn’t the byproduct of something we do, but the fruit of rooting ourselves deeper in something that’s been done for us – and more specifically I’m thinking of Jesus’ atoning death on a cross. <br /><br /><br />For example, think of garden. If we frantically try digging up a newly planted seed to check its progress, it won’t grow. But it’s when we till the soil, and add some water and light and above all else pull the weeds, that’s when a plant will grow – from what I’ve heard. We need to know the weeds that threaten to choke our spiritual life. Mine’s anger. Maybe yours is anxiety, or pride, or if haven’t yet taken the assessment, it’s probably inaction. But behind each and every one of these things always is a refusal to find our deepest identity in God. For Madonna it’s “proving she’s a somebody,” for Rocky it was “going the distance.” How do you know that you’re not a bum? What are you chasing?<br /><br /><br />Because, the good news of the Christian Gospel is that God is chasing us, and that through faith God has planted us in His Son Jesus, who went into the wilderness for us and resisted Satan where we always give in; and he did that, not as a model, but to represent us before His Father, to give us his identity as a beloved Son of God; not because we’re lovely, but to make us lovely; not because we’re good, but because he is; not because of anything we do, but because of what He did, in his life and on the cross, on our behalf. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“The Kingdom of God has come near; repent, believe, and grow – grow in the good news.” </span>John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-20158325250429581632012-02-07T11:12:00.000-08:002012-02-07T11:21:33.869-08:00do not be afraidTO LISTEN<br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/dont_fear.mp3 <br /><br />Why do you say O Jacob, and speak O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God?” <br /><br /><br />I’d like to talk about today’s reading from Isaiah, but first, a little trivia. What is the most frequent command in scripture? I’ll give you a few seconds to think about it. Did you guess to be more loving? Even though love is God’s goal for human life and existence, the command to love is not God’s most frequent instruction. Perhaps you guessed to be more humble? After all, theologians insist that pride is at the root of all sin, but interestingly the Bible’s most frequent imperative says nothing about gaining humility. Did you guess something to do with money or sex or honesty? If so your guess was wrong. The most common command in the Bible is formulated in four simple words: Do not be afraid.<br /><br /><br />Now, why does God command us not to fear? Last time I checked, fear was not on the list of Seven Deadly sins, and so why does God command us not to fear? The answer is actually quite simple. The words do not be afraid are so common in Scripture because fear is the number one reason that we fail to trust God. Behind every act of disobedience and every failure to trust God fear is always lurking. <br /><br /><br />Now, I don’t mean to say that fear is always bad. Fear can be quite good, like when a child fears touching a hot stove or when a teenager fears driving drunk. But the problem is that for most of us, fear arrives as an unwelcome guest. Fear can easily become paralyzing instead of motivating, habitual instead of sporadic. In fact, we have a name for people that constantly live in fear. We call them worriers, and people that constantly worry have a hard time trusting God. And for this reason, God’s most frequent command is, do not be afraid. <br /><br /><br />Today’s reading from Isaiah was originally written to people wrestling with fear, that is Israelite exiles being held captive in Babylon. The Babylonians have overthrown them and the whole nation is in ruin. The people are in exile and surrounded by enemies. And for this reason the people of Israel are terrified. But not only that, they feel forgotten. “My way is hidden from the Lord,” they say, “and my right is disregarded by my God.” And so that’s the background. The people of Israel feel alone, they feel abandoned, and they are terrified. <br /><br /><br />Now, perhaps we have never had our homes burned and our land conquered, but we all know that we still live in a world where these things happen. And yes, we may be shielded from someone else tearing our homes and families apart, but many of us have experienced homes and families that have been torn apart from the inside. Many of us feel uprooted, uncertain about the future, fearful in the present, and guilty about the past. And so I think today’s reading is incredibly relevant for us all, because not one of us is immune to fear. We all have our moments – our moments when we’re terrified that God is not really big enough to take care of us, or when we don’t really feel safe in God’s hands. We all have our moments when we feel God has left us, or was never with us, and that we have to fend for ourselves. We all know what it’s like to feel fear, and some of us know what it’s like to feel abandoned. <br /><br /><br />Maybe you feel that way right now here at Holy Spirit. In the last two months you lost two beloved priests and leaders. And yes – you do have a wonderful interim that’s competent and faithful – but Bill’s here for a season, not to do the work of ministry for you, but to challenge you and lead you and comfort you and uphold you as you, the people of Holy Spirit, take responsibility for this Church and proactively step into the future that God invites you into. But that might feel scary. “My way is hidden from the Lord,” you might groan, “and my right is disregarded by my God.” To say you’re terrified might be dramatic, but I imagine there’s a little anxiety, a little fear, and that it has crept up into your life as an unwelcome guest. <br /><br /><br />Well, in the midst of Israel’s fear, and in the midst of ours, comes the command of the Living God. You see in Isaiah 41:10, when God’s speech actually ends – our lectionary cuts it off prematurely – this is what God says: “do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God.” <br /><br /><br />In other words, God’s word to Israel is “be strong. Be courageous. I actually know what I’m doing here. You can trust me, O my people, for I am with you.” You see it’s not that God takes away all of their problems, and frankly if we keep reading things get worse before they get better; but the message of Isaiah is that God is working in midst of their exile. <br /><br /><br />And as Christians, we need look no farther than the cross to know the paradox of God’s power. Not only is God able, but God delights in bringing about unimaginable good from what we experience to be exile. The people of Israel experience difficulty and hardship and a whole lot of fear, but Isaiah’s point is that they’re not to be paralyzed by fear. When fear arrives as an unwelcome guest, they are to remember the promise of God. Do not be afraid, God says, for I am with you. <br /><br /><br />And of course, the promise of God hasn’t changed. When God becomes human in the person of Jesus, you might recall the words of the angel: “and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means, God is with us.” And after Jesus rises from the dead, you might recall Jesus’ final words spoken to his disciples: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” The same word God speaks to Israel God speaks to each one of us, and to this parish, at this time, in particular. <br /><br /><br />Because – frankly, you have work to do. Bill’s work is to support you and equip you in your work. But this is an important time for Holy Spirit. As I said last time I was here, and this is a quote from my last sermon from this pulpit, it’s not a time “to be gloomy or sad or scared. It’s a time to be intentionally hopeful. It’s a time to expect. It’s a time to prepare for the new thing God wants to do in our midst. It’s a time to prepare for the new thing God wants to do in this community.” <br /><br /><br />And so really quickly, here’s what I’d like to leave you with; 2 challenges, and a word of comfort. <br /><br /><br />First, resolve to be a leader at this parish, at this time. Get involved. Identify your spiritual gifts, and put them to use! And hold other people accountable for using theirs. As v.31 puts it, “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,” but the waiting Isaiah speaks of is an active waiting, a proactive waiting. And so resolve to be a leader in whatever way you know how. <br /><br /><br />Second, from v.26, “life up your eyes from on high and see.” In other words, pray. Make prayer a part of your life. A lot of unnecessary fear results from where our eyes are focused. Are our eyes focused down below, on our circumstances, on how hard we imagine the road will be, are our eyes focused on “Babylon,” or, are our eyes lifted on high? Think of Peter walking on water. When Peter’s eyes were focused on Jesus, he could do it, but when he looked down and saw the waves, that’s the moment he began to sink. <br /><br /><br />And so let me just end by giving you a quote from C.S. Lewis. “People do not need to be instructed,” Lewis said, “They need to be reminded.” Today we can all be reminded that God really is big enough to take care of us. Today we can all be reminded that we really are safe in God’s hands. Today we can all be reminded that God has acted through the person of Jesus to restore all things to Himself, and that because of God’s initiative we do not need to fend for ourselves. Finally, in light of these truths, we can all be reminded of our God’s most frequent command to His frightened children. Do not be afraid.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-30114898365431601912012-01-25T11:17:00.000-08:002012-01-25T11:18:42.230-08:00authenticity (from a christian perspective)TO LISTEN ONLINE<br />http://johnnewton.libsyn.com/authenticity<br /><br />Mark 1: 14-20<br /><br />I’ve been invited to preach this morning on one of your core values – authenticity. But I can’t help but reference the Gospel because it’s about fishing and Bert, as you may know, is a pretty good fisherman. And whenever I’ve been fishing with Bert it’s always “catch and release,” which, as you know, is when you take some bait, deceive a fish, catch that fish, hold the fish, measure the fish, nearly suffocate the fish, so that you can admire the fish, only to hurl the fish back into the water to be humiliated in front of its family and friends. Sometimes the decision of whether or not to keep the fish is made on the spot. Strong fish are kept, weak ones are not. Now, maybe I’m projecting my own insecurities onto these poor fish, but I can’t help but think that this process of being caught, evaluated, and then released takes its toll on a fish’s soul. I mean, there have to be a few lakes out there where the fish suffer from low self-esteem and bad attitudes because no one wants to keep them. Is it me? Am I not a keeper? Does no one want me? Why did they let me go?<br /><br /><br />You see what these fish need is to come to St. Mark’s and learn to be more authentic, so that their sense of self isn’t dependent on whether or not some beer-bellied fisherman thinks they’re good enough. And that’s what Bert asked me to preach about this morning – authenticity. To quote your vision, “we are an authentic people, true to our Christian identity, and genuinely thankful for the gift of our gathering and for the sacred space of our church.” And so authenticity; that’s the subject matter of today’s sermon. What does it mean to be authentic? <br /><br /><br />Well, the word authentic means “not false or copied.” And so when we speak of an authentic Picasso we’re talking about an original Picasso and not some cheap imitation. And while the Bible never uses the word authenticity, the Bible is concerned that we live lives that are true and faithful to how God uniquely designed us. For example, Jesus’ critique of the Pharisees was that they were “hypocrites,” a Greek word that means “play actor.” And when Jesus sees Nathaniel in John chapter one he says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is nothing false!” And so Jesus is quite concerned that we live authentic lives and that we become our “true selves.” But what does that mean – what does it mean to be authentic? <br /><br /><br />Well, before we can look at what authenticity is we need to be clear about what it’s not; because if we were to ask the “world” how one becomes an authentic person the answer is simple: just look inside. Don’t look anywhere else. Your true self is perfectly intact and is found right in here. I came across a Facebook group this week by the name of, “I march to the beat of my own drum, so if you don’t like the tempo, move on,” which I think captures our world’s view of authenticity quite well. Or as Shakespeare put it, “this above all – to thine own self be true.” Or as Katy Perry put it, “Baby you’re a firework, come on let your colors burst.” But either way, the world’s message is the same. If we want to be authentic, we have to look within and be “true,” above all else, to what we find and then to let what we find come out. Authenticity is found inside of us – that’s the mantra of our world. <br /><br /><br />I just have one question. What do we do when we look inside only to find a “self” that wants to lie or cheat or procrastinate or worse? Or when we look within only to find a circus of fears, mixed motives, and prejudices? For example, when my duty is to love my wife but from within arises a feeling of love and warmth for another woman should I be “authentic” to that true self? You see we’re not really as unique as we like to think because whenever we look deep within we find not that which is true but a train wreck of what our family, culture, heredity, and the mass media have told us to be. And Jesus’ invitation to us is not, “look inside and be that!” But as he says in today’s Gospel, it’s “follow me, and I’ll make you something else than you are right now.” <br /><br /><br />You see unlike our world, which says, “if you want to be authentic you’ve got to look inside yourself,” Jesus says, “if you want to be authentic you’ve got to look outside yourself.” As Jesus himself said, “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” And this word we translate life, it comes from the Greek word psyche, and is also translated soul. And so it’s a word that captures that part of our self that is real – not false or copied – but authentic. The Message, a contemporary translation of the Bible, translates the word psyche as “true self.” And so Jesus’ approach to finding our true, authentic self could not be more provocative. If we look for Jesus, we find both Him and our authentic, true self. In other words, authenticity is the byproduct of seeking Christ. After all, Jesus didn’t say “blessed is the one who hungers and thirsts after blessedness,” but “blessed is the one who hungers and thirsts after righteousness.” And so if we want to be authentic we’ve got to look outside ourselves. <br /><br /><br />And so once again, what does it mean to be authentic? <br /><br /><br />First, live for Jesus. This is, after all, what baptism is all about – a pledge to find our life in Him. Baptism is a pledge to live not for ourselves for the Him who died for us. You see the mystery of our faith is that we were all created as unique, authentic bearers of God’s image, that this image has been significantly blurred in each one of us by sin, and that to be restored to our true, authentic self we have to go to the only Surgeon that knows how to fix us – and that’s Jesus. <br /><br /><br />This is how C.S. Lewis puts it. “The more we get what we now call ‘ourselves’ out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of little Christ’s, all different, will still be too few to express Him full. He made them all. He invented – as an author invents characters in a novel – all the different men that you and I were intended to be. In that sense our real selves are all waiting for us in Him.” In other words, if we live for Jesus He will show us what it means to live an authentic life. <br /><br /><br />Second, take your place in Jesus’ body. You see authenticity isn’t like love – something that has value in and of itself, but rather it’s always in service to the Body of Christ and the mission of the church, where if one member isn’t doing its part the whole Body suffers. You see the Bible compares the Church to a Body where each one of us has a specific, distinct and vital function. Authenticity is about coming to grips with our unique contribution to the Body of Christ. And so just as each and every one of you has a unique role to play in this particular parish, so this parish has a unique role to play in our diocese. <br /><br /><br />Now, today we’re obviously just scratching the surface when it comes to discerning what it means to be authentic people. And ultimately it’s work that only you can do. But as you go about this work, just remember – Jesus is not a catch and release fisherman. He has taken hold of your life and will stop at nothing until His in you in complete. As Isaiah once put it, “we are the clay, God is the Potter and we are all the work of His hand.” <br /><br /><br />We are all the work of someone’s hand. Authenticity is what happens when we let the Maker make us into what He had in mind in creating us. It’s about knowing that our sense of self is tied to not what we accomplish but to what Christ has accomplished for us. It’s about knowing that we are each and original and so that we don’t try and play a part that doesn’t suit us. Authenticity is a gift of the Spirit. <br /><br /><br />In happens slowly as we worship, read the Bible, pray, discern, and strive to follow Jesus. But it does happen. And as it does our life and our community become more compelling, and as our community becomes more compelling it grows – in numbers and in depth. <br /><br /><br />And so as you go about this important work, I’m going to end by leaving you again with something CS Lewis said. <br /><br /><br />“Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.”John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-88690688536439211762012-01-17T14:54:00.000-08:002012-01-17T14:55:41.442-08:00Jesus' Stone Pillow, and ours<span style="font-style:italic;"><br />A sermon on John 1: 43-51</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">TO LISTEN ONLINE: </span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/stonepillow.mp3 <br /><br /><br />There’s a lot of wisdom in today’s Gospel about what discipleship is about, which isn’t so much about accepting God or believing the right truths about God or even doing certain things for God, but it’s about the life transformation that happens whenever we know God. <br /><br /><br />That’s what today’s Gospel is about – Nathanael coming to know God for the first time. And so here’s the question I’d like to ask this morning. What happened in Nathaniel’s life and what has to happen in ours for us to know God and be transformed? <br /><br /><br />Now first a little background, because today’s Gospel is actually alluding to and building on another story from Genesis 28; And that’s the story of Jacob running away from his brother Esau. Now as you may recall Jacob didn’t have what we’d call a really stable family life. Jacob blackmailed Esau and stole his birthright; Esau then made plans to kill Jacob and Jacob was forced to run away from home. And when Jacob fled he had nothing. In fact, he fell asleep that first night with his head on a stone – a symbol for how hard his life had become. And so Jacob is alone and feels utterly forsaken. But that night Jacob has a dream on that stone pillow, where God stands at Jacob’s side, and tells Jacob that God is calling Him, and in that dream Jacob sees a ladder that connects heaven and earth, with angels ascending and descending on top of it. And so it was actually that night, in Jacob’s weakest, most desperate moment, at his very worst, as he slept on a stone, that he saw the heavens opened and God Himself standing at His side. <br /><br /><br />And then there’s Nathaniel. Like Jacob, his life is not going well. I mean, something had to happen in Nathaniel’s life that made him the sour, curmudgeon that he is. When told that the Messiah’s been found in Nazareth, he sneers. “Nazareth? That back water place? Where they watch NASCAR and wear wife beaters and where everyone’s related?” “Forget the Messiah,” he says, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Personally, I think he was depressed – not because he’s cynical, but because of what Jesus says to him. “Nathanael, I saw what happened under that fig tree just before Philip called you.” And because Nathanael immediately worships him as the Son of God, we can safely infer that whatever happened under that fig tree was so personal and so private that for Jesus to have seen it and still welcome him was enough to melt his heart. Maybe he had a panic attack or a moment of excessive guilt or threw up a weepy prayer of last resort. But because Jesus goes out of his way to allude to Jacob’s dream, we can safely infer that whatever happened under that fig tree was a low point in Nathaniel’s life, his “stone pillow” that no one else knew about. But when it dawned on Nathaniel that Jesus knew about it, and that Jesus understood, well, that’s what I think changed his life. <br /><br /><br />Do we know what Nathaniel and Jacob did? That Jesus Christ sees us under our fig tree; that God stands beside us on our stone pillow, that Jesus knows us at our worst and yet still delights in calling us? <br /><br /><br /><br />CS Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues at Oxford about the uniqueness of Christianity. He responded with a single word. “Grace.”<br /><br /><br />Christianity is about grace. Jesus isn’t a talent scout looking for strong moral athletes to help his team win. In fact, Jesus does not ask us to change the world. But he does ask us if we’re willing to let Him change our world. And that’s why Jesus isn’t looking for people that know they’re strong but people who understand that they’re weak, and who are willing how to live in this world relying on His strength. And that’s why it’s a spiritually dangerous thing to forget that we too have a stone pillow. You see it is out of that weakness that we hear the call of God. <br /><br /><br />There’s a humbling verse in the Book of Revelation where Jesus is pleading with the church because they’re rich and prospering and think they need nothing. And Jesus says, “You forget that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked.” You forget, he says, that Christianity is about grace. <br /><br /><br />And that’s something easily forgotten in today’s world. It’s easy to stay pre-occupied with projects and people and pop-culture and our performance to live an entire life without ever knowing that, spiritually speaking, we’re a beggar. And if we miss our stone pillow we at the same time miss the Savior that stands beside it – the One who knows us at our worst and yet still delights in calling us. <br /><br /><br />I mean, have you ever noticed that the Gospels only have two “stock characters?” There’s the religious rule-keepers. I’m thinking of the Pharisees, Scribes, temple officials, etc. And this group is always portrayed as judgmental, joyless, critical, and legalistic. Always; And on the other hand there’s the desperate – the “morally, socially and physically despondent.” These are the prostitutes, tax collectors, the blind, the lame, the leper, the prisoner, the demon-possessed, and the Gentile. And the second group knows really well what their stone pillow is, and they know that Jesus knows about it, and that He loves them and calls them. And their response is always like Nathaniel! Rabbi, you are the Son of God!<br />You see the great mystery of our faith is not that Jesus stands beside us on our stone pillow, as wonderful as that is. The mystery of our faith is that Jesus knows what it’s like to fall asleep on that stone – whatever “our stone” happens to be. <br /><br /><br />And that’s the irony of today’s Gospel. Jesus origin wasn’t Nazareth but as the pre-existent Word that became flesh is true origin is with God. And yet the scandal of our faith is that he entered our world not as a general or a philosopher or a king but as a carpenter; that Jesus was born not in a palace but a feeding trough. You see Jesus knew what it was like to fall asleep on a stone. <br /><br /><br />“Foxes have holes, birds have nests,” he said, “but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Jesus was homeless. He was abandoned. And as He took His last breath on the cross not one person stood beside Him, as he bore in his body the sins of the world. Not even the Father He so loved and relied on. In other words, Jesus became wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked so that in Him we might be rich and prosper and need nothing. <br /><br /><br />And to the extent that we know that, we’ll trust Jesus enough to let him show us our fig tree, our stone pillow – a metaphor for our weakness, our fears, our mistakes, our prejudices, and our sins. Because – the “me” that Jesus loves is not the same “me” I now see. As St. Paul put it, “now we see in a mirror dimly.” But not Jesus – he sees us as we are, at our very worst, and yet that’s the person Jesus delights in calling; that’s the person Jesus longs to transform. <br /><br /><br />And you know what the irony of all this is? Today’s Gospel isn’t just about discipleship, it’s also about evangelism. It’s about becoming the type of person and the type of church that lives in this world with a message, “come and see.” Come and see someone that sees you. Come and see someone that loves you. Come and see someone that stands beside you. As someone once put it, “Evangelism is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.” I mean, isn’t that what Philip did for Nathanael? <br /><br /><br />“Very truly, I tell you,” Jesus said to Nathaniel, “you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” <br /><br /><br />What happened in Nathaniel’s life and what has to happen in ours for us to know God and be transformed? Well, here’s what I’d offer. There is a ladder that connects heaven and earth; and it isn’t a ladder we climb up, it’s a ladder that God’s climbed down so that He could live and die as one of us and to save us. What this means is that we do not need to save ourselves, or to hide from ourselves, or to hide from God. Jesus sees us under our fig tree. Jesus stands beside us on our stone pillow. Jesus knows us at our worst, and he knows us at our best, and yet still delights in calling us.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-62189810800267277972012-01-10T09:41:00.000-08:002012-01-10T09:43:40.710-08:00Why was Jesus baptized?<span style="font-weight:bold;">A sermon on Mark 1: 4-11</span><br />http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=193217200<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">To listen to audio version:</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/gracesermon.mp3 <br /><br />Today the Episcopal Church celebrates “the Baptism of our Lord,” which also happens to be the focus of today’s Gospel reading from Mark. Here’s the question I’d like to frame today’s sermon – why? Why was Jesus Christ baptized? <br /><br /><br />Because frankly it’s a problem; baptism is for people who identify with sinners. According to Mark, John proclaimed a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Baptism is for sinners and according to the Bible that’s not what Jesus was. According to John, he’s not worthy to touch Jesus’ sandals. Baptism is about entering God’s life, but Jesus is God. Baptism’s about being cleansed from sin, but Jesus knew no sin. And so again, why was Jesus baptized? And what, if anything, does his baptism mean for our own? <br /><br /><br />Now, a little background; Today’s Gospel records the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. The past few years he’s lived quietly as a carpenter. It’s today, for the first time, that Jesus goes public as Israel’s Messiah and this baptism is Jesus’ manifesto. <br /><br /><br />“If elected president, what’s the first thing you’ll do?” If you’ve been watching the presidential debates you’ll notice how often that question’s asked. Because the question’s more of a symbol than anything; what will your presidency be about? What are you going to do on day number one? And so what today’s Gospel actually looks back on is Jesus’ first day in office where a public, symbolic statement is made about what His government or His Kingdom will be about. And Jesus’ statement was a symbolic one. He chose to be baptized. <br /><br /><br />Now, to help us understand what’s happening I’d like to tell you the story of a guy named father Damian, a young Belgian priest that lived in the late 19th century with a ministry to lepers. In the 1860’s the Hawaiian legislature passed the “Act to Prevent the Spread of Leprosy,” which resulted in about 8,000 people being banished to a leper colony. And so Father Damian, though not a leper himself, left the comfort of where he was and made his home among the lepers. And for the next twenty or so years Father Damien served these sick, banished, forgotten people. He embraced them. He loved them. He got close. And on a Sunday morning in 1885 Fr. Damien opened his sermon not with the customary “Brethren” but with two simple words: we lepers. “In other words, I’m not here to stand above you. But I’m here to stand with you in your disease.” <br /><br /><br />When Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan River, where the scum of humanity went to repent, Jesus Christ made a similar statement. We sinners. This is the statement Jesus made on his first day in office – that as God’s Messiah he would identify fully with sinful humanity. You see, unlike our baptism, which fully identifies us with God; Jesus’ baptism unveiled God’s quest to fully identify with man. In other words, I think Jesus knew what he was put on earth to do, and as Oswald Chambers once put it, “at His baptism [Jesus] visibly and distinctly and historically took upon Him His vocation.” Now what this all means is that the point of Jesus’ ministry was not to set a good example – as if a role model were all we needed; nor did Jesus come to teach us how to love, as if the world had never heard of it. But in his baptism what Jesus actually did was preach a two word sermon. We lepers. We sinners. I am not here to stand above you. But I’m here to stand with you in your disease.” <br /><br /><br />There’s a second century theologian by the name of Iranaeus who said something that really captures what I’m getting at. “Out of his boundless love, Christ became what we are, so that we might become what He is.” Or as St. Paul put it in 2nd Corinthians, “God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” In other words, Christ became what we are for a purpose – to make us beloved children of God like Himself. <br /><br /><br />Now, this is where our own baptismal identity comes into play. You see the words the Father spoke to Jesus – “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” – aren’t these the words each one of us longs to hear? We build our lives around hearing these words! How can I be accepted? How can I be loved? What must I do for people to be pleased with me? And the world’s answer is simple. Do something that’s pleasing. Be funny. Be smart. Get a tattoo. Make money. Be outgoing. Don’t have a bad game. Do something that makes you worthy! Stand out, be unique, make a difference, don’t be boring, do something pleasing, and only then will you be accepted and loved. Maybe. That’s the way our world orders things. Do something pleasing first. Experience love and belong second. <br /><br /><br />What our baptism does, and what Jesus’ baptism represents, is a complete reversal of that order. We say know that you’re loved and that you belong, and to the extent that you know you will live a life that’s pleasing to God. <br /><br /><br />And that’s why it is a good and fitting thing that we baptize infants. Before they do anything good we mark them as Christ’s own forever. We tell them they’re beloved sons and daughters of God and that, because they are in Christ, that God is so very pleased with them. And you know what? Sin, anxiety and fear – these are really nothing more than symptoms of us forgetting that we belong to God, that in Christ God identifies with us fully taking even our sin upon His own back. That is, after all, what the cross is all about – God making Him who knew no sin to become sin for us, so that in Him we might become the beloved of God. “Out of his boundless love, Christ became what we are, so that we might become what He is.” <br /><br /><br />And so it’s a fitting thing to celebrate the baptism of Jesus. Because on His first day in office, by choosing to be baptized, what Jesus did was replace traditional religion with the Gospel. Your see religion says, “Do something well pleasing, and then maybe you’ll be acceptable.” But the Gospel says that in Christ we’re acceptable, and that to the extent that we grasp our beloved-ness we’ll please God as a byproduct. Religion is about morality and our faithfulness. The Gospel is about grace and God’s faithfulness. Religion is a wagging finder that screams, “try harder!” The Gospel is Jesus in the Jordan saying, “We lepers.” <br /><br /><br />There’s a great verse in the Book of Isaiah that says, “surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; he was wounded for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities.” Now as Christians, we believe that this verse was meant to point to Jesus. But here’s the reason I share it. Going back to Father Damien, by the time he actually died Fr. Damien had contacted leprously. Could he have taken some sanitary measures to prevent that? I suppose he could. But what Father Damien felt called to do was to give these sick, banished and forgotten people something that had been lost: dignity, worth, love, belonging, and a sense that someone was “well pleased” enough with them to embrace them, to love them and to get close. But if that was to happen, metaphorically speaking, Father Damien had to stand with them in the Jordan. Out of his boundless love, Damien became what they were, lepers, so that that they might become what He is, fully human. God made Fr. Damien who knew no leprously to be a leper for them, so that in Damien’s presence they might experience a dignity, love and belonging they had never known before. <br /><br /><br />Why was Jesus baptized? Well, I suppose that all depends on how we view our selves. If all we really need is a good example or a little ego boost and we assume that’s what Jesus provides, than I don’t know. But if Jesus was right – if “those who are well have no need of a physician but only those who are sick” – if despite the myriad ways we try to convince the world that we’re all just fine what we really need is a savior – than Jesus’ baptism is nothing less than God, the ultimate Public Servant, making a statement to the world that he came to embrace us, love us, get close, and bear our disease for us, even to the point of dying on a cross.<br /><br /><br />You see baptism is for people that identity with sinners. And thank God that Jesus was someone that did.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-72779619146130924672011-12-20T08:49:00.000-08:002011-12-20T08:51:17.458-08:00the supernatural conception(s)<span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />A SERMON ON CHRISTIAN FORMATION IN CONVERSATION WITH LUKE 1: 26-38</span><br /><br />And so what exactly is Christian formation? Here’s my definition. <br /><br />Christian formation is the Spirit’s work for forming Jesus Christ inside of us, which is our destiny as God’s image bearers. <br /><br />That’s it! Christian formation is about Christ being formed inside of us. And so notice, Christian formation isn’t limited to a class, nor is it about doing something – it’s about the spiritual renovation of our insides. As the 2nd century theologian Iranaeus put it, out of his boundless love, Christ became what we are to make us what He is. In our words, we far too often forget the second part of the Christmas message. God became man – that’s the first part; but God became man for a purpose; so that we might become more like God. That’s the second part of the Christmas message, and what I’d like to talk about this morning. <br /><br /><br />After all, that’s what today’s Gospel is all about; Mary saying “yes” – Mary saying yes to God who wants to form Jesus Christ inside of her – right? Now, I’m not saying that today’s Gospel is merely a metaphor, or that it didn’t happen. Of course it happened. But the point of my sermon today is that it happens – that as unique as Mary’s supernatural conception was, it’s at the same time normative for the Christian life. And so as Jesus Christ was literally formed inside of Mary, the point of our faith is to have Jesus spiritually formed inside of us. And that’s what Christian formation is about; saying “yes” like Mary did to a God who wants to form Jesus Christ inside of us. <br /><br /><br />And what I see in today’s Gospel is a reliable, threefold pattern that can shed some light on how Christian formation actually works. And that pattern can be stated as follows: God visits us, God favors us and we respond by saying yes. <br /><br /><br />First, God visits us. God found His way to Mary; it wasn’t Mary who found her way to God. And of course the same is always true of us. You see, Christianity is not a set of teachings that will enable us to climb the ladder to visit God. It’s the good news that in Christ God has climbed down the ladder to visit us. As the author of 1 John puts it, “in this is love not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” It is not we who visit God. It is always God who visits us. <br /><br /><br />C.S. Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues at Oxford about the uniqueness of Christianity. “All religions present ethical challenges. Other religions have stories of virgin births and miracles of gods walking the earth. So what,” they sneered, “makes Christianity any different?” “What makes Christianity different?” Lewis asked rhetorically before giving his one word response. GRACE. <br /><br /><br /><br />Christianity is about grace. It’s not about us trying harder, or about us doing better, or about us changing the world. It’s about a God that freely chooses to visit us and heal us and save us. Christianity is about grace. God visits us. <br /><br /><br />But second, God favors us. And trust me when I say that there is nothing more difficult to believe, and at the same time nothing more necessary to believe, than this. God favors us. <br /><br /><br />It’s difficult to believe because our hearts, and sometimes other people, are always condemning us. We feel small and flawed and sinful and broken and so we come to church and hope that God will accept us. But the good news of the Gospel isn’t that God accepts us. I “accept” paying taxes. I don’t want to pay them, but I’ve got to. That’s what it means to “accept” something and far too often I think we assume that God feels the same way. “I don’t want to forgive them, but Jesus died so I’ve got to.” But notice, that isn’t what the angel tells Mary. “Greetings, favored one.” “Don’t be afraid, you have found favor with God.” <br /><br /><br />Brennan Manning, who’s one of my favorite authors, tells the true story of an Irish priest who stumbles upon a peasant praying by the side of the road. And so the priest, who’s impressed, says to the peasant, “You must be really close to God.” And this is how that peasant responded. “I am, because God is very fond of me.” You see this peasant knew what Mary did – that he had found favor with God. <br /><br />How sweet would life be, how many problems would disappear, if we only believed that? If we believed that God is fond of us –not that we’re forgiven, or accepted, or tolerated – but that we are all the apple of His eye. <br /><br />And so does the God we imagine only favor the right, the respectable, the religious, and the rule-keepers? Because God’s intention in visiting someone like Mary was to demolish that idea. You see in Mary’s culture no one was favored less than an unwed, childless, teenage girl. And God came to her and said, “I choose you. I favor you. Not because your good – but because I am. Not because you’re worthy, but because the Most High will overshadow you and Christ will form within you and that – that will make you worthy.” <br /><br />God doesn’t just accept us. In Christ, he favors us, loves us, dotes on us, and embraces us. He calls us son. He calls us daughter. There is nothing more difficult, but at the same time nothing more necessary, to believe than this – that we, us! – have found favor with God.<br /><br /><br />Now, to the extent that we know that, we will respond by saying yes. You see a mature Christian is someone who lives their life with Mary’s words carved into their heart. “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And the spiritual word for this is submission. Submission begins the moment we acknowledge that God is incredibly invested in how we live, that our need to control things never turns out well, that when God forbids us to take the forbidden fruit it’s because He wants us to be happy, and that the only way to find our life is by losing it. You see what Mary did in today’s Gospel is something God asks us to do every single day. This is how C.S. Lewis puts it in Mere Christianity. <br /><br /><br />The first job each morning consists simply in shoving [all your hopes and wishes for the day] back; in listening to that other voice. We can only do it for a few moments at first. But from those moments a new sort of life will be spreading through our system: because we are now letting Christ work [inside of] us. It is the difference between paint, which is merely laid on the surface, and a dye that soaks all the way through. (Mere Christianity, 198)<br /><br /><br />In other words, submission is about saying “yes” to God – not with our lips, but with our lives. And so for example, every time we pray, read scripture, or sit in contemplative silence, we submit God. Every time we feed the poor, befriend the friendless, or greet the stranger, we submit to God. Every time we refrain from judging, show others mercy, or forgive someone who has hurt us, we submit to God. And we do this not in the hope that God will favor us; but in the knowledge that in Christ He already does; because God is incredibly found of us all.<br /><br />Now, I know that Christmas is a week away, and you have a lot on your mind. It’s a busy time. I also know that in the coming year your rector will ask you to engage in Christian formation in a much deeper way than you have in the past, and a lot that is already underway. In fact, Josephine led an excellent class this morning. And so here’s what I’d leave you with as the 25th approaches.<br /><br />God became like us for one purpose only: so that we could become more like Him. You see what happened to Mary in the physical sense must happen to us in the spiritual sense – there must be a supernatural conception. Christ himself must grow inside of us. The goal is to be able to say with St. Paul, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Because there is a difference; between us trying to climb the ladder to be with God and us knowing that He climbed down to be with us; between trying to earn God’s favor and knowing that we already have it; between controlling, which leads to death, and submitting, which leads to life. <br /><br /><br />There is a difference between paint, which is merely laid on the surface, and a dye that soaks all the way through. The point of our faith is to have Jesus Christ soak all the way through. <br /><br />Christian formation is the Spirit’s work for forming Jesus Christ inside of us, which is our destiny as God’s image bearers. <br /><br /><br />It still happens. Mary said “yes.” The question I leave us with today is, “will you?”John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-14715269104126228052011-12-13T06:31:00.000-08:002011-12-13T06:32:42.989-08:00Joy!TO LISTEN ONLINE<br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/rejoice.mp3 <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“Rejoice always; give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” </span><br /><br />A good friend of mine dressed up as a Puritan for Halloween a couple years back. Now, at first I was disappointed. Halloween costumes in my opinion are meant to be scary and so if you don’t have fake scars, fake teethe, fake moles, or fake blood – in my opinion it just doesn’t count. But I have to say she played the part of the Puritan perfectly. She had no make-up, no flashy clothes, but most importantly, no smile. She didn’t laugh the entire night. Her goal was to look completely joyless. <br /><br />Now, actually like the Puritans and think the costume was a caricature. But it is true - Puritans aren’t really known for being the life of the party. And historically speaking, a lot of Puritans thought laughter was evil. In fact, I heard one man was sentenced to three days in jail for smiling during his baptism. Why? Because the way of Jesus, they thought, was really, serious business. It meant frowning in this life to secure a smile in the next one. <br /><br />Now, I think a lot of Christians are heir to this legacy. Christianity, we’ve heard, is about doing our duty. It’s about rolling up our sleeves and even stuffing the deepest desires of our heart to serve a much more noble purpose. The problem is that none of this meshes with Paul says in today’s reading from 1 Thessalonians. “Rejoice always.” Paul says. “Give thanks in all circumstances.” “This is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”<br /><br />Now, I have to say, living a joy-filled life is a challenging thing in today’s world, and there are a lot of reasons for this but I’ll go ahead and name three.<br /><br />1. It’s impossible to be joyful if we’re preoccupied with ourselves. You see what John the Baptist acknowledges in today’s Gospel is actually pretty profound: “I am not the Messiah.” In other words, there’s a direct correlation between humility and joy. And when I use the word humility I don’t mean thinking less of ourselves – I mean thinking of ourselves less. I mean thinking more of God. You see joy is not something we can manufacture for ourselves. It’s the fruit of Jesus Christ being formed in us, which can’t happen if we’re preoccupied with ourselves.<br /><br /><br /><br />2. It’s impossible to be joyful when we’re preoccupied with things. Psalm 1 actually says a lot about this when it compares a happy person to a tree that’s planted by streams of water. And I have to say I love this image. Because – there’s a difference between being a tree that draws on a nearby stream and a tree that depends on the fickleness of the outside rain. In other words, there’s a difference between drawing on inner resources – that is our own intimate relationship with God – and depending on outside factors that are completely outside of our control. And so think of the things that tend to make us happy – the size of our bank account, positive feedback at work, a clean kitchen, no one we love being sick or depressed, our football team winning, a new car, you get the idea – these are all like “the rain.” And sometimes they fall down on us steadily, and sometimes they don’t come at all. But the psalmist’s point, and the consistent witness of the Bible, is that we can’t depend on any of these things for our sense of happiness and joy. But like the tree in psalm 1 we have to be rooted; we have to be drawing on something that isn’t subject to changing seasons, something greater than our circumstances; and of course that Something is God and the stream is Jesus Christ. <br /><br /><br />3. It’s really hard to be joyful if we’re always trying to avoid the things in life that hurt. We get rid of our pain by seeking distractions. We get rid of our insecurity by eliminating risks. We get rid of our disappointment by downplaying our deepest hopes. But here’s the paradox of Christianity. Joy isn’t found in avoiding our cross. It’s found in embracing our cross with Jesus and for Jesus. As Paul puts it in Romans, “suffering produces perseverance and perseverance character and character hope.” In other words, pain isn’t good. But God is. And part of God’s redemptive work is to help move deeper into our pain in order to make us more like Himself. And becoming more like God is what increases our capacity for joy. <br /><br />And so joy is impossible if we’re preoccupied with ourselves, or with things, or with trying to get rid of our pain. And yet Paul commands us. “Rejoice always. Give thanks in all circumstances. This is will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” And so the question is, how do we do it?<br /><br />1. To rejoice always, we have to properly understand God. Because we won’t get joy if we don’t first understand that God is the most joyful being in the entire universe. In fact, it’s important to know that God lives a very interesting life. After all, when God created the heavens and the earth, He didn’t casually remark, “It’ll have to do.” No. God rejoiced when he saw that it was very good. And when God created you, He didn’t say “it’ll have to do.” God rejoiced because he saw that you are very good. And that’s because joy is foundational to the character of God. You see the sorrow of God, kind like the anger of God, is just God’s temporary response to our fallen world. But all sorrow and anger will forever be banished from God’s heart on that future day when Jesus sets our world is set right. And so if we’re going to learn to rejoice always, this is something we have to understand about God. Joy is foundational to the character of God. <br /><br />2. To rejoice always we have to be obedient to Jesus – the incarnation of our joyful God. And Jesus came as the joy-bringer. Or to quote the Gospel of John, Jesus came so that our “joy may be complete.” You see, it’s not that we have to be joyful before we begin to obey Jesus. Joy is just what happens to us as we move deeper and deeper into a life of obedience. Joy isn’t found in taking the forbidden fruit, as if God were stingy and holding out on us. And so if God tells us not to do something, God’s not holding out on us. That just wouldn’t be consistent with God’s character. This is how the great hymn writer John Newton put it, “Our pleasure and our duty, though opposite before; since we have seen his beauty, are joined to part no more.” In other words, Jesus didn’t come to stuff the deepest desires of our heart; he came to grant them. The point of losing our life is to find new life in Him. <br /><br />And so as you go out into the world this week here’s what I’d leave you with. Practice the discipline of celebration. Allow the Spirit to draw you outside of yourself. Dance. Sing. Be goofy. Live. Love. Lighten up. Christ has died, Christ has risen and Christ will come again. God wins. You and I are free. <br /><br />You know that’s what Advent is about, right? Don’t be confused by the purple – it’s not primarily about repentance like Lent; it’s about joyful expectancy. It’s about reminding ourselves that God has already become human in the person of Jesus Christ, that his resurrection has set the new creation in motion, and that a day will surely come when he returns to make all things new. And that’s something worth celebrating. <br /><br />After all, God built us to celebrate. I mean, what’s the Trinity but one big celebration? Remember, the angel that appeared to those shepherds abiding in the field didn’t just bring good news. The angel brought “good news of a great joy.” And that’s what Advent is about. It’s not just about our Lord coming to meet us. It’s about us coming with joy to meet our Lord. <br /><br /><br />And so let’s go back to my friend’s Halloween costume – “the Puritan.” There is nothing scarier, nothing more frightening, than a person who never smiles; a person who never laughs; a person who’s completely joyless – especially when they do so in the name of Jesus. Of all people, we Christians should be the life of this party that’s happening on earth. <br /><br />“Rejoice always. Give thanks in all circumstances. This is will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-9586121989186477272011-12-06T09:48:00.000-08:002011-12-06T09:49:05.854-08:00Prepare the King a Road<span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />A sermon on Mark 1:1-8</span><br />http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=190193590<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />TO LISTEN ONLINE:</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/heartprep.mp3 <br /><br /><br /><br />Formation is about discipleship; it’s about the renovation of our heart and the transformation of our character. And so my job’s is to help every single person in the Diocese of Texas move from a life lived in service to self to a live lived in service to God: not very hard. And yet – this transition is what Christianity is about. As C.S. Lewis put it, “the Church exists for nothing else but to draw men to Christ, to make them little Christ’s. If they are not doing that, all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible itself, are simple a waste of time.” And I would agree. The sole purpose of the church is to form disciples – to draw people closer to Jesus so that Jesus can make them more like Himself.<br /><br /><br />Which is actually what today’s reading from Mark is all about – the way we become disciples of Jesus. Now, I bet that’s not what you thought. You thought today you had to sit through the prologue so that next week you could hear the good stuff. No, today’s the good stuff; it’s Mark’s thesis statement where everything that’s important is introduced. <br /><br /><br />And here’s how I’d summarize Mark’s thesis: Our God and our King is coming. Let our hearts prepare him a road. <br /><br /><br />You see the first thing Mark wants us to know is what following Jesus will entail – and that’s a trip to the wilderness. Where did Moses meet God in the burning bush? The wilderness. Where did Jacob wrestle with God? The wilderness. Where did the people of Israel encounter God? Not Egypt, but at Mount Sinai, in the wilderness. And in today’s Gospel Mark tells us where we must go to encounter our God and our King: the wilderness. <br /><br /><br />Now we hear the word wilderness and we think “state park.” When we go to the wilderness we bring water and a tent and shelter and beer and firewood and food and an I-pod and you know, we really “rough it!” Or maybe we hear wilderness and we think Bear Grylls – about learning to survive ourselves. <br /><br /><br />But in the Bible, the wilderness is opposite; it’s a place where life can’t be sustained naturally. There’s no bread, no water; absolutely nothing natural you can draw on to survive. You see in the Bible’s wilderness, our achievements don’t matter; our money doesn’t matter; our skills don’t matter. Even MacGyver’s out of luck in the wilderness. And yet this is precisely the place our heart must go, Mark says, to meet Jesus.<br /><br /><br /><br />And so if we are serious about our faith, there’s a question we need to ask. Have we met Jesus in the wilderness? Because it’s tempting, and it’s easy, to just pack Jesus up next to the beer and the I-pod and to have him join us at the state park; or think that we can make it just fine ourselves in life but that Jesus is on standby to help. It’s tempting to think Jesus is like a really good vitamin – something we need to get on with our day. And what Mark is saying in today’s Gospel is “no.” “If we want to meet Jesus, we’ve got to go to the wilderness; where if we want water, it’s going to come from the rock; where if we want bread, it has to come like manna from heaven.” In other words, the point of today’s is to remind us of something important: that we cannot provide for ourselves, that apart from God we are grass, and that the very things we’ve built our lives on – our looks, our spouse, our achievements, our status, our money, our intellect, whatever – they’re fine and wonderful things, but if they’re our foundation, it’s sand. <br /><br /><br />You see Jesus doesn’t invite us into the wilderness to polish the foundation we’ve spent our live building. He invites us to the wilderness to give us a new one. <br /><br /><br />And that’s why John begins his ministry by baptizing people, and says it’s a precursor to Jesus’ baptism of the Holy Spirit. Now you may have heard that baptism was already a common practice in Jesus’ day. I did some homework. It wasn’t. The tradition before John had to do with self-washings, ablutions and immersions, and most scholars are too lazy to point out the difference. And so as a symbol for their need to be cleansed, Jews would wash their hands before entering the temple. And if a Gentile wanted in, the rule said they had to pour water over their entire bodies, you know because they were really unclean. But here’s the difference. Before John you always washed yourself. The tradition was self-washing and self-immersion and self-cleansing and what Mark is telling us today is that with Jesus the self-washing done!; that to be a disciple of Jesus we have to let him baptize us, not just with water, but with the very Spirit of God. <br /><br /><br />The Christian Gospel is not just another self-washing technique. It’s a trip to the wilderness to be washed by Someone greater; and that our job is to prepare for that. “Prepare the way of the Lord,” he writes, “make his paths straight.” <br /><br /><br />Now, a better translation of that word “way” is actually road. “Prepare a road for the Lord,” or for the King – that’s a bit more true to the Greek, which is important to note because a king – back in the day – would send his messenger ahead of him, like Jesus did John, to announce to a city that the King was planning to visit. And the custom of the day was to prepare a new road for that King; you know to support the full entourage that would no doubt be traveling with him. Well, here’s the thing. Making a straight path, building a new road, this was a burden. I mean, people had to stop what they were doing to clear rocks, uproot weeds and level the ground. It was a burden, and frankly meant to be; it was the king’s way of lording his power over others. And so by beginning his Gospel by announcing a King’s arrival and by saying that it’s time to build him a road, Mark’s audience would have started to question – is this King also going to enslave us? Is preparing to meet him just another burden? <br /><br /><br />Now, I don’t know about you but I’ve asked that question before. If I really try and obey God’s will, won’t I be missing out? I mean, if God says don’t eat fruit from that tree, the only way to really be free is to take it, right? To be our own King? And of course from the very beginning of Mark’s Gospel we’re told that this King is different – that his arrival is “good news.” <br /><br /><br />I mean, you know that’s what the word Gospel means, right? It doesn’t mean good advice or good life strategy, the word Gospel means good news, which is why when Mark uses the word road or way from here on out – and he uses it a lot – it’s always a reference to Jesus’ road through the wilderness all the way to the cross. This King’s not coming to enslave. The King comes to set us free. <br /><br /><br />And so that’s Mark’s thesis statement: prepare the way of the Lord, a new kind of King has arrived, and so clear Him a path in the depth of your heart so the King can set you free.<br /><br /><br />You see, that heart preparation is what Advent’s about, what formation is about, what this Church is about, and what our life should be about. Because if Jesus is the King Mark’s talking about, it is a silly thing to invite Him into our life as a self-help coach or an encourager or as anything other than a liberating King worthy of our devotion in every aspect of our life. And in some sense that’s the question Mark’s putting before us. We can baptize ourselves, or Jesus can baptize us. We can build our own foundation, or we can come to Jesus for a new one. We can go to the state park or we can go to the wilderness but what we cannot do, once having heard the news, is fail to decide. <br /><br /><br />And while it is a decision that we all have to make, if we’ve only made it once, I doubt we ever made it at all. Because our King has come and is coming; and although we weren’t worthy to stoop down and touch his sandals, the good news of Christianity is that He’s made us worthy. Because our worthiness is not found at the end of some road that we must walk for ourselves; but at the end of a road that the King’s already walked on our behalf. <br /><br /><br />And so when it comes to our hearts, let us clear the rocks, uproot the weeds and level the ground. Let’s Pray. Read Scripture. Serve. Love. Bless. Share. Give. Fast. Celebrate. Be silent. Rejoice. Decide. Transition – from a life lived in service to self to a live lived in service to God; because the only reason the church exists is to make us into little Christ’s. <br /><br /><br />Our God and our King is coming. Let our hearts prepare him a road.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-22141568413091327142011-11-29T09:08:00.000-08:002011-11-29T09:09:13.304-08:00a word we can rely on<span style="font-weight:bold;">TO LISTEN ONLINE:</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/firmwords.mp3 <br /><br /><br />"Words that won’t pass away"<br />Mark 13: 24-37<br /><br />Woody Allen once said that at “more than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and the other to total extinction.” He then added, “let us pray for the wisdom to choose correctly.” There’s an American poet that was quoted as saying that “if we see any light at the end of the tunnel, it’s the light of an oncoming train.” <br /><br />I think it’s fair to say we live in a pessimistic world. You know, after a while life just has its way with us. The things we love, the things we rely on, all seem to pass away. And while this experience of the things we love passing away may be unique to each one of us, we all know that gut-wrenching feeling. Because – to live is to constantly change and when everything’s always changing some good things just come to an end. Our time in college ends. Our children grow up, they move out of the house– our time with them ends. Watching the things we love, the things we rely on, pass away is just part of the human experience. And yet, it’s an experience that can cause so much suffering. <br /><br />Now, to put today’s Gospel in its proper context, Jesus has just finished warning his disciples about a time of great suffering. And to be more specific, he predicts the destruction of the Jewish temple. And for Jews in Jesus’ day, the Temple was the epitome of everything they loved and relied on. For some, the Temple was the sole mediator in their relationship with God. The temple was God’s home, where God literally chose to dwell. It’s also where sacrifices for sin were offered and accepted by God. And so the forgiveness of sin was mediated through Temple. I mean, that’s a pretty big deal! And so imagine what the disciples were feeling when Jesus told them that the temple would pass away. In other words, what Jesus predicts, and what Mark is looking back on, was a real historical event. In 70 AD the Jewish Temple was obliterated by the Romans, which means that from the perspective of many devout Jews, God’s home was demolished. How does one even begin to articulate what it’s like for the center of one’s religious world to pass away? Well, borrowing the imagery of their Hebrew Scriptures, they talk about how the sun and the moon just stop giving light; about how even the stars fell from the heavens. And so today’s Gospel lesson actually isn’t about Jesus predicting the end of the world. But that doesn’t mean that faithful Jews in Jesus’ day didn’t wish that he had. Because when the Temple passed away, so did their hope. After all, it was a symbol for everything they loved and everything they relied on. And it passed away. And it left them wondering, and it leaves us wondering, is there anything good that will last? <br /><br />As a Church I suspect that’s a question you’re wrestling with. A week from today is your rector’s last Sunday. For the last 10 or so years Fr. Puckett has been your leader. His leadership has been good, and you’ve relied on it. But his time here is passing away. And let’s be honest. Patrick Hall isn’t too far behind. His time at Holy Spirit is also passing away. Now, I know that to most of you Fr. Puckett and Fr. Hall represent everything that’s good and everything you love about this church, and you’re probably having a really hard time imagining the future of this place without them. Well, I think the lectionary was looking out for you because there’s a word or two in today’s Gospel that God would have you hear. <br /><br />First, when life gets the toughest, when our pain is the greatest, and when our fear threatens to undo us, that’s actually the moment that Jesus Christ is closest to us. As Jesus puts it in today’s Gospel, “when you see these things taking place” – remember, these horrible, world ending things – “you know that the Son of Man is near.” And so that’s the first word God would have you hear this morning. In the midst of whatever scary change you find yourself in, as a church and as individuals, Jesus Christ is near: “at the very gates.” <br /><br />Second, because Jesus is near, this is a time more so than ever that as a church you resolve to “keep awake.” It’s a season to expect, to prepare, to work and to wait. More so than ever, this is not the time for the people of Holy Spirit to take a spiritual nap. No, it’s the time to chew on Revelation 21:5, which says “Behold, I am making all things new.” It’s a time to pray, to get intentional about reading scripture, to take responsibility for the future of this parish, to get more serious about leadership and evangelism; this is a time to get more serious about Jesus and about the place Jesus has in our lives. “For you do not know when the master of the house will come,” but when he does let’s not let him find you asleep.<br /><br />You see, there is no room for pessimism in the Christian faith. The word Gospel doesn’t mean good advice, it means good news. Christianity is news; the good news that heaven and earth may pass away, but that Jesus’ word never will. And what is that word that Jesus speaks to the people of Holy Spirit? As he says in Matthew, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age;” or in Hebrews, “I will never leave you or forsake you;” or in John, “I go to prepare a place for you.” Heaven and earth may pass away; but Jesus’ word never will. <br /><br />And it’s important to Jesus that we know that, which is what today’s Gospel is about. It’s Jesus reminding the Church that the Temple, the economy, your health, your loved ones, your job, your peace of mind, your marriage, your rector, your associate, your time in college, your time with your kids, heaven and earth itself – they may all pass away. Even the stars may fall and the sun stop shining. Those lights may pass away. But my light, my word, my promise never will. <br /><br />And that’s why chronic pessimism has no place in Christianity. The promise of God is that with Jesus’ arrival the Kingdom of God has already been launched and that a future day will arrive when the Kingdom of God is all that will last. And so on this first Sunday of Advent – a Latin word that literally means “arrival” – this is exactly what we celebrate. Today we’ve gathered to celebrate because God’s Kingdom has already been established, and because a day will arrive when God’s kingdom will come on this earth as it is in heaven.<br /><br />And because of this, Advent is a season of hope, which isn’t to be confused with optimism. Optimism is built on the conviction that the old order of things will eventually get better, that we’ll somehow manage to repair it. But hope is much different. Hope is built on the conviction that a new order of things, a new Kingdom, already exists – and that one day the King himself will repair everything that’s good, and everything we love, about the old order of things. And so don’t be pessimistic. Advent’s not the season to be gloomy or sad or scared. On the contrary, it’s time to be intentionally hopeful. It’s a time to expect. It’s a time to prepare for the new thing God wants to do in our midst. It’s a time to prepare for the new thing God wants to do in this community. Jesus has given us his word – he’s at work even now making all things new – and Jesus’ word will never pass away.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-37970592646829294992011-11-22T11:04:00.000-08:002011-11-22T11:09:39.686-08:00Christ the King<span style="font-style:italic;"><br />A sermon on Matthew 25: 31-46; “The sheep and the goats”</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />TO LISTEN ONLINE:</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/christking.mp3 <br /><br />I usually begin my sermons with a little depreciating humor or by referencing some catchy cultural happening to segue, which doesn’t work so well with today’s Gospel about the sheep and the goats. And I have to say, reading this story I’m always a little torn. Because – on the one hand, I don’t want to ignore what Jesus says, or to pull the whole “what Jesus really meant to say was,” as if Jesus wasn’t being serious. But at the same time, there are two core beliefs I hold when it comes to how God changes lives, and I don’t intend to compromise either. First, I don’t think you can scare people into heaven, or bully someone into a transformed life. Second, I don’t think we’re saved because of anything we do or achieve. We’re not saved because of we feed the poor or because we visit the sick – that’s just not what orthodox Christians believe. And so if today’s Gospel isn’t primarily here to scare us into “doing something” to be saved, then what is it about, and what does that mean for our life?<br /><br /><br />You see, today’s Gospel is not primarily a call to action. Will a proper understanding of it overflow into action? No doubt. But this wasn’t told to scare us into building a better world. Not only would that contradict the rest of Matthew’s Gospel, but it wouldn’t even make sense within this story. Because, both the sheep and the goats have one thing in common. Neither was aware that they were serving, or not serving, Christ the King. “Lord, when was it that we fed you or visited you. When was that?” In Jesus’ story they didn’t know. And so to hear this Gospel and then decide to do something because we’re scared of being a goat is to miss the point entirely. The sheep are not the ones that know they’re serving Christ, the sheep are the ones that don’t. And so if today’s Gospel isn’t God’s attempt to scare us into being a little less selfish, then what is it about?<br /><br /><br />Well in the Episcopal Church today is Christ the King Sunday. It’s a day the church sets aside to remind ourselves that Jesus Christ is the rightful king of creation and that a day will come when He alone will reign. What today’s Gospel from Matthew is really about is the character of this king. <br /><br /><br />You see there’s a question that a story like this on a Sunday like this is asking us to consider – what kind of king do we say that Jesus is? And as I reflect on today’s Gospel two incredibly hopeful and surprising details stand out.<br /><br /><br />1. Jesus is not a king that reigns on some lofty throne high above the mess of this world and the mess of our lives. As today’s Gospel begins, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory … then he will sit on the throne of his glory.” Then – but not now. Because – now, as today’s Gospel points out, Christ the King reigns in the midst of the world’s mess; amongst the hungry, the sick, and the imprisoned; amongst the lonely, the friendless and the needy; amongst the divorced, the burnt-out, and the anxious; with the ones he calls “the least.” Jesus reigns right in the midst of the mess. <br /><br /><br />2. Christ the King calls the least amongst us – the sick, the naked, and the common criminal – members of his family. As Jesus once said to the Pharisees, “those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick; for I have come not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Well, today Jesus ups the ante a bit, calling the sick and the sinful not just to repentance but to acknowledge their status as his brothers and sisters. <br /><br /><br />Now, are you beginning to see how full of grace today’s Gospel actually is? Because – before it says a word about God’s judgment, it speaks volumes about God’s nature. And the message is that no situation is so hopeless, no pain so unbearable, and no sin so horrible that Christ removes himself from it; Hunger, thirst, estrangement, nakedness, prison – it doesn’t matter, Christ reigns in the midst of the mess.<br /><br /><br />And so have you ever hungered and thirsted for righteousness only to be crushed by sin and injustice? Have your secrets ever left you feeling isolated and alone? Has shame ever left you feeling naked and exposed, or have you ever felt so scared and inadequate that life felt like a prison from which you couldn’t escape? Has life ever made you feel like the absolute least? Because – if so, there’s a message in today’s Gospel for you. Christ the King calls you family, and He reigns in the midst of your mess. <br /><br /><br />You see that’s what Christ the King Sunday, and today’s Gospel, is really all about – a different kind of king who endures the shame of his own subjects and saves his sheep by dying for them; a King whose crown is of thorns and whose throne is a cross; a King that enters Jerusalem not on a chariot but on a donkey; not with an army but with a handful of fishermen; a King whose power is revealed not in the breaking of bones but in the breaking of bread. This we say is the King of the universe and to know this king is to be transformed. <br /><br /><br />I don’t want to leave you with the impression that what we do doesn’t matter. What we do matters tremendously. Our life matters, our choices matter, the things that we love, the way we spend our money and time, it all matters to God because we matter to God. And even though the sheep in today’s Gospel didn’t know they were serving Christ, it does matter that we as a church get intentional about seeking and serving Christ in all people, and especially the least. But the goal of the Christian life aims at something higher. The point of Christianity is to become transformed people – people who give in such a way that their left hand doesn’t know what their right hand is doing. And I would submit that this transformation begins not with a decision to act but with a decision to pray; that it begins when we resolve with every fiber of our being to submit to the King who freely submitted to the cross to save us. <br /><br /><br />And in today’s reading from Ephesians, we find that this is exactly what Paul prays for. He writes, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ … may give you a spirit of wisdom … as you come to know him.” But what Paul says next is utterly shocking: “So that you may know … the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints.” Now, most people read this and mistakenly assume that Paul prays that we would know that Jesus is our inheritance and be thrilled with how great that all is, but that isn’t at all what Ephesians actually says. It doesn’t say that Jesus is our inheritance. It says that we are Jesus’ inheritance. And that’s what Paul wants us to see – that Christ the King sees us in our hunger and our thirst and our strangeness and our nakedness and our prison, the Christ the King identifies with us, that he reigns in the midst of our mess. Why? Because – we are His inheritance, the apple of His eye, the people He longs to heal, restore and save. And so as we go out into the world this week let us not forget that before we can for Christ the King we have to know that Christ the King lives for us. We are his family. <br /><br /><br />Now, to the extent that we know that Jesus honors us, we will in turn honor him. But our King isn’t looking for calculated, fear-based, sporadic, conscience appeasing humanitarian acts of service by people who think they’re “okay” on behalf of people who aren’t. No, Jesus is looking for people who know Him as He is! <br /><br /><br />You see, it is not just we who are Jesus’ inheritance, it is also Christ the King who is ours. “And so come, you that are blessed by the Father in heaven and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” Because – today’s Gospel isn’t about people who earn their salvation; it’s about people who love their king so much, who know his character so well, that on the last day discover it.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-90085584569155544522011-10-11T10:05:00.000-07:002011-10-11T10:07:25.636-07:00the feast of discipleship<span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />TO LISTEN ONLINE</span><br /><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/wedding_robe.mp3 <br /><br /><br />Bible reading: Matthew 22: 1-14<br /><br /><br />As Canon for Christian formation, my job is to think through that transformative process by which we become more like Jesus. That’s what Christian formation is about – moving from a self-centered focus to a God-centered focus; from autonomy to obedience; from independence to discipleship. And people will often ask, is that hard? Is being a disciple of Jesus hard or easy? Because on the one hand Jesus says, “Come to me all who are weary and heavy burdened,” but at the same time he also says “the gate is narrow and the road is hard.” “Anyone who is thirst may come!” “Count the cost before coming!” “Many are called, but few are chosen.” Our Lord says both. And so we have to ask – is Christ being formed in us hard or is it easy? <br /><br /><br />After all, in today’s parable everyone’s invited to the banquet. As Matthew puts it, they “gathered all whom they found, both good and bad.” But then there’s that poor guy with no wedding robe – he’s cast out. You see, in Jesus’ day a banquet like this would have taken months of preparation, and the first batch of guests have already RSVP’d yes. But when the date of the wedding actually comes, they blow it off. And historically speaking, Matthew is referring to Israel’s initial rejection of Jesus as the Messiah. But there’s also a second group – a group taken from the “main streets,” and this group is diverse. They’re diverse economically (rich and poor); racially (Jew and Gentile); and they’re diverse morally (both good and bad). And this second group is gathered into the feast, save that one man without a robe. <br /><br /><br />Now, I want to talk about this robe for a bit. The fact that all the other guests were wearing wedding robes tells us something significant – that the King provided wedding robes to his guests at the door. Remember, they’re coming off the streets. No one had time to run home and grab their wedding robe or to go to the store and buy one. And so the King in Jesus’ parable provides wedding robes to each of his guests at His own expense. And one man refused that gift thinking he could before the king dressed as he was. <br /><br /><br />You see, to ask if being a disciple of Jesus is hard or easy is at the same time to ask another –why is it hard to put on that wedding robe, which is a metaphor for a life of utter dependence on Christ. In other words, to wear that robe is to move from a self-centered focus to a God-centered focus; from autonomy to obedience; from independence to discipleship. And it’s a process that most of us, I suspect, find intimidating or impossible. And so our tendency is to settle less. We come to church. We say our prayers. We give some money. But then we go back to living on the streets. The feast will come later – perhaps when we die. But feasting now – well just that seems hard. <br /><br /><br />In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis claims that the thing keeping us from the feast is our tendency to talk about our self as the starting point, which it’s desires and interests, and then to talk about this thing we call morality, which usually conflicts with what “I” want. And so in an effort to be “good,” we sometimes sacrifice what we want to do the right thing – we wake up early to go to church or make our pledge instead of buying a nicer car. And then we hope that “being good” doesn’t cost us too much money or energy or pride to get on with the real work of living our life. And this is what Lewis says about that. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The Christian way is different; harder, and easier. Christ says, ‘Give me all. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and there, I want the whole tree down. Hand over the whole natural self. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.’ (197)</span><br /><br /><br />God does not offer us tips for better life. But He does offer us His own life, which is experienced as abundant life. Now with that in mind, there are two things I’d like to say about putting on this wedding robe – about transitioning into a life of utter dependence on Jesus Christ. <br /><br /><br />First, the wedding robe isn’t something we merit or purchase. It’s a gift that God purchases for us. And looking to the cross we know just how much that gift cost. But here’s what we need to see. It’s a gift we already possess. As Paul says in Galatians, “For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ.” In Baptism, we were each given our robe. (And today Nicholas and Ansley will be given theirs!). Faithfulness is about growing into that wedding robe. 1 Peter says we are to “grow into” the salvation we’ve already been given. In other words, the wedding robe I’ve been given is a 44 Long and I’m a 36 short. But that’s what Christian formation is all about – it’s a slow, deliberate and lifelong process of dying to self so that Jesus can live in and through us. And for the record, every time we come forward to God’s table we recommit to this process. The Eucharist is our weekly RSVP to the banquet. As Eucharistic prayer D puts it, we don’t come to communion for solace only, but also for strength; for pardon only, but also for renewal. The wedding robe – a life of utter dependence on Christ – is a gift. Christian formation is about growing into that gift. <br /><br /><br />Second, because we don’t need to get sidetracked talking about how hard this can all be, let’s not forget that Jesus’ metaphor for discipleship is in fact a feast! “I came that they might have life,” he said, “and have it more abundantly.” And so there’s a question we all need to be asking – is there feasting on the inside, at least sometimes? Group number one “made light” of the invitation. But not group number two; “Yesterday I was begging for bread,” there said “but today I’m feasting with a King!” These are two very different ways of viewing our faith. And because we can all act like group one from time to time, I think it’s good to be reminded that the word gospel doesn’t mean “good advice” or “good morals;” it means “good news.” Christianity is news – the good news that says that even though His subjects rebelled, the King of the universe is still throwing them a banquet and that everyone’s invited – good/bad, rich/poor – and that clothes are being provided at the King’s own expense to make us fit for the celebration. <br /><br /><br />I officiated a wedding last week and was really moved when the bride processed down the aisle to the tune of “here comes the bride.” And in a very real sense, human history is nothing more than one big procession to that very tune! As the parable begins, “The Kingdom of heaven is like a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son.” And of course we know that son to be Jesus. But let us never forget that we – the Church – are Jesus’ bride, and that our job is to clothe ourselves appropriately. <br /><br /><br />Is becoming a disciple hard? Sometimes; but it is so much easier than what so many of us are trying to do – giving God so much of our time and so much of our money when all he really wants is us. And so yes, giving Jesus everything is hard – except for when we actually do it and are reminded yet again that it’s always experienced as a feast.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-83418599904107097132011-09-20T11:56:00.000-07:002011-09-20T11:59:53.348-07:00subvert the paradigm<span style="font-weight:bold;">TO LISTEN ONLINE:</span><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/subvert.mp3<br /><br />A sermon on:<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Matthew 20: 1-16</span><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br />Last week when driving I saw an interesting bumper sticker: “subvert the dominant paradigm.” Now, for some reason this bumper sticker actually stuck. You see we all view life through a particular lens, and we all view God through a particular lens, and if that lens isn’t right, then our lives will necessarily be wrong. And what Christian formation is about, more than anything, is acquiring the right lens so that we see things as they really are. And so here’s the question I’d like to pose this morning. What’s the paradigm, or the lens, through which we’re viewing our relationship with God? <br /><br /><br />Because there is a dominant religious paradigm, which has its own assumptions about God, about ourselves, and about what it means to follow Jesus. And that dominant paradigm goes something like this. “We get what we deserve. If we’re good, God will reward us. Faithfulness might not be fun, but our God is fair, and he’s going to reward us for our service.” And so whenever we say things like, “I’ve already done my good deed for the day,” or “Why would God let this happen, I haven’t done anything wrong,” that’s the dominant religious paradigm slipping out where God’s seen as the boss, we’re the workers, and payment is rewarded on the basis of merit. <br /><br /><br />Now believe it or not, this has actually been the dominant religious paradigm since the time of Jesus, and Jesus’ intention in telling today’s parable was to subvert that paradigm. And in particular, the people Jesus had the most beef with were the Pharisees, because instead helping people see God and themselves as they really were, the Pharisees made people feel bad for not being “religious enough.” You see the Pharisees followed the law to a T, but did so in a way that left them joyless and judgmental. And Jesus’ message to the Pharisees, more than anything, was that they didn’t see things as they really were – that the dominant paradigm they upheld reflected the kingdom of the world, not the kingdom of heaven. <br /><br /><br />And so that’s why Jesus told this parable about the landowner and vineyard workers – to subvert the dominant paradigm and show us what God’s Kingdom’s really like. It’s not a lesson in economics, nor is it an allegory that asks us to examine who we are in this parable. No, it’s a call to examine our assumptions about God, about ourselves, and about what it means to follow Jesus. And so here’s the question we need to consider – where is Jesus asking us to think differently about God? <br /><br /><br />Well first, Jesus wants us to understand that working in God’s vineyard isn’t a chore – it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. The call of God, it moves us away from a life of idleness and toward a life of purpose and meaning. A life spent working in God’s vineyard is its own reward. In other words, what gives life purpose, what gives life meaning, is our decision to partner with God to advance His Kingdom wherever we happen to be – at work, at home, at a bar, on vacation – it doesn’t matter because the vineyard of God is everywhere. And working in that vineyard – that, Jesus says, is what gives life purpose and meaning. As Kathryn Blanchard puts it, “The workers must recognize the opportunity to work in the vineyard as a gift in itself. There is no room for human pride, since one’s only choice is to answer the call … or to stand idle and waste one’s life.” In other words, the call to work in God’s vineyard isn’t a chore. It’s the reason God created us in the first place. <br /> <br /><br />Second, Jesus wants us to understand that God isn’t a distant and cold hearted book-keeper – that God isn’t sitting back and keeping score. On the contrary, like a shepherd looking for lost sheep, God’s refuses to rest until he’s found every last potential worker that’s still standing idle. Because notice, the landowner in the parable is always searching – 6 o’clock, 9 o’clock, noon, three o’clock, 5 PM – the second he gets one group of workers settled, he leaves again to start looking for more. And this, Jesus says, is exactly what God’s like. God takes the initiative to find us. He’s always looking to draw people in. It breaks His heart to see people standing idle. <br /><br /><br />What’s the paradigm through which we’re viewing our relationship with God? You see, today we have a baptism. We’re going to baptize Reid into the Christian life, and each one of us will make a vow to do all we can help Reid grow up into a mature Christian – to teach Reid the truth of who God really us, and to teach him the joy of working in God’s vineyard with us. But at the same time, we’ll also renew our own baptismal covenant; we’ll remind ourselves of what that right lens is, of what it means to see things as they really are. And according to Jesus’ parable, there are really only two lenses. Either we know that life and salvation are a gift and that God’s blessed us well beyond what we deserve, or we compare ourselves to everyone else and measure our lives against theirs. We’re either grateful or we’re envious. We’re either God’s sons or we’re his servants. God’s either our Father or he’s our foreman. Paul’s either right, and all things belong to us because we belong to Christ– “co-heirs” as he puts it – or we’re contract workers slaving away in a vineyard to eke out a daily wage. And so what’s our paradigm? <br /><br /><br />CS Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues at Oxford about the uniqueness of Christianity. “All religions present ethical challenges. Other religions have stories of virgin births and miracles and gods walking the earth. And so what,” they sneered, “makes Christianity any different?” “What makes Christianity different?” Lewis asked rhetorically before answering their question. “Grace.” <br /><br /><br />The dominant religious paradigm is about merit. God’s the boss, we’re the workers, and payment is rewarded on the basis of merit. But Christianity, Christianity is about grace – about how each and every one of us is made in the image of God, about how God’s generosity is beyond anything we could ever imagine, and about how there’s nothing we could ever do to deserve God’s generosity but that it comes to us anyway as a gift. Christianity is about grace. How different would our lives be – how different would our world be – if we only lived from that paradigm?<br /><br /><br />At so here’s what I’d like to say in closing. At the end of today’s parable, the landowner asks an interesting question – he says, “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?” Well, in the context of Matthew’s Gospel, this question’s actually meant to point to another parable Jesus tells about a vineyard. And in that parable, which occurs only one chapter later, the landowner sends his son into the vineyard and when the workers see the landowner’s son they seize him, throw him out of the vineyard and kill him. “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?” That’s the landowner’s question. And at the heart of our faith is the belief that God does not stand removed, but that He chose to enter the vineyard himself in the person of Jesus Christ, that it cost him his life, and that, on the cross, he became the last so that we could become the first. <br /><br /><br />May that be the paradigm – the lens – through which we view our relationship with God. Because to the extent that it is, we’re going to get really serious about bringing more people into the vineyard with us, rejoicing that in the shadow of the cross, we all stand together as equals – sons and daughters of God, and co-heirs with Christ. Is Jesus’ work in the vineyard with us and for us the primary lens through which we’re viewing our relationship with God? Because if not, it’s time to subvert the paradigm.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-53563241940111859442011-09-13T13:28:00.000-07:002011-09-13T14:09:12.400-07:00remembering 9-11<span style="font-weight:bold;">TO LISTEN ONLINE:</span><br /><br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/sep11sermon.mp3 <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Peter came and said to Jesus, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.</span><br /><br /><br />I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at Emmanuel. My name is John Newton, and I serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. And it’s truly an honor to be with you this morning – and to preach the Gospel on this day in particular, as the attacks of September 11th, 2001 are no doubt weighing on our hearts. <br /><br /><br />Ten years ago to the day, 19 hijackers took control of four commercial airliners. Both towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed. The third plane crashed into the Pentagon, and the fourth on a farm in Pennsylvania after a few passengers heroically rebelled. In total, 2,996 people died in this horrific event that we now know as 9/11. <br /><br /><br />I don’t know what you remember about that day – what you were doing when you heard the news or what you felt as you processed the experience. But I do wonder what we’ve chosen to remember – the 411 ER workers who died trying to save others, or perhaps the churches that overflowed the following Sunday morning – maybe that’s what we remember. Or perhaps we just remember the darker emotions – our desire for revenge, for whoever did this to pay. I remember feeling that emotion quite well. <br /><br /><br />You see whatever 9/11 was to us personally, there’s something it was to us all – a clear and undeniable reminder that all is not right in this world. We were not meant to live in a world where people crash planes into buildings. We were not meant to live in a world where wildfires destroy our homes. We were not meant to live in a world that hurts, injures and violates us. And yet we do. That is exactly the world in which we find ourselves. <br /><br /><br />And that, more than anything, is what 9/11 is to me – a reminder that all is not well in the world; it’s a reminder that we’ve been hurt, that we’re scared, and that we’re desperate for Someone to fix things. And it matters little what makes us feel scared and hurt – a terrorist, a parent, a friend, a spouse, a child, our divorce, the media, our mortality, our health, the wildfires, politics, the economy, our loneliness or our dwindling IRA – what’s significant is that we know what it is to feel broken and to long for wholeness. Each one of us has been hurt. Injured. Violated. Wronged. And with this experience of being wronged comes, if only subconsciously, a desire for revenge – for whoever did this to pay. <br /><br /><br />Well, it’s this desire we have for revenge – this idea we have that to fix pain we need to dish out more pain, that to fix hate we have to out-hate the haters – that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel. And what Jesus would have us understand – the whole point of the parable – is that there are only two ways to respond to the hurt and pain we experience in this life. There’s the way of revenge and the way of forgiveness. In other words, to live in a world where all is not well means that it’s a guarantee that we’ll get hurt, injured, violated and be wronged. And when that happens, Jesus says we’ve only got two options. We can absorb the pain. Or, we can return it. We can pray to the Judge or we can play the judge. We can choose forgiveness or we can choose revenge.<br /><br /><br />Now, there’s something we just need to name. Our world has chosen the way of revenge. “Getting even” – that, we think, is how we’re going to fix things. A desire for revenge was behind the attacks of September 11th, and, at least partially, behind our nation’s response to those attacks. It’s also present in every divorce, every cold shoulder, and every uncharitable word. And it’s this desire for revenge, Jesus says in today’s parable, that is absurd – that is absolutely absurd from the perspective of God. <br /><br /><br />And so let’s take a quick look at Jesus’ parable, which Jesus tells to respond to Peter’s question about forgiveness. Because what Peter wants to know – isn’t that what we all want to know? The attacks of September 11th – do we really need to forgive whoever did that? I mean, at what point do we stop forgiving? When is enough, enough? <br /><br /><br />Well, to respond to this Jesus tells a story about a slave. We’ll call him John. And John owed the king 10,000 talents. Now, 1 talent was about 7 years’ wages in Jesus’ day, and so 10,000 talents, if you do the math, is about 3.5 billion dollars. And so when John can’t pay his 3.5 billion dollar debt, the King forgives the debt out of sheer pity – because the King is good. Now, justice demanded that John and his family be sold. But the King in Jesus’ parable loves mercy, and so he releases John. Well, John then remembers that his buddy Frank owes him 100 bucks, and when Frank can’t come up with the money, John seizes him by the throat and throws him into prison. <br /><br /><br />Now, the entire scenario is obviously absurd. Who, after being forgiven a 3.5 billion dollar debt, would ever ruin another person’s life over 100 dollars? But here’s what I think Jesus is trying to say. We would. And we do. That from God’s perspective, we look just like John whenever we hold onto our anger, to our grudges, or to any other desire we have for someone else to pay. <br /><br /><br />You see the point of Jesus’ parable is that each one of us has had a massive moral debt cleared, and that rather than receiving the justice we deserve, we receive the mercy we don’t. What Jesus is trying to show Peter is that in light of the unmerited pity he’s been shown from the King of heaven, His question about forgiveness doesn’t make sense – that compared to the debt he’s been forgiven by God, Peter is essentially owed nothing. <br /><br /><br /><br />Today we as a nation we remember 9/11 – but there’s always the question of what we’ll choose to remember, of what we will choose to place at the forefront of our minds as we acknowledge that we’ve been hurt, that we’re scared, and that we are desperate for Someone to fix things. And here is what I believe faithfulness to the Christian Gospel demands – that the first thing we remember about the events of 9/11 is the King in Jesus’ parable. <br /><br /><br />You see the entire point of Jesus’ parable is that it’s the King that absorbs an enormous loss. More than anyone else, it is the King that is hurt, injured, violated and wronged. After all, when the King forgives the debt, that debt doesn’t just disappear, and the King’s forgiveness doesn’t come cheap. No, forgiveness comes with a price tag, and it’s only the King – who must absorb the entire debt himself – that will ever fully understand that cost. <br /><br /><br />What will we choose to remember on this tenth anniversary of 9/11? My prayer for we who call ourselves Christian is that at the center of our mind will be the King of Creation nailed to the cross – paying the entire debt of sinful humanity himself. <br /><br /><br />As John Ortberg put it, “On the cross, the entire weight of the un-payable debt owed by sinful humanity would fall on Jesus. He would pay it all. This is why the cross is at the heart of Christianity. It shows us the heart of God. He chooses to pay the debt we never could. He longs to forgive.” In other words, the cross is that place where Jesus took the collective hurt, injury and wrongness of the entire world head on. On the cross Jesus absorbed all of it. The pain of the victims. The pain of their families. The pain of the terrorists. And the pain of their families. The pain of the people who lost their homes in the wildfires this week. The collective pain of humanity. On the cross, Jesus absorbed all of it. And Jesus invites us, his disciples, to do is the same. <br /><br /><br />You see returning the pain inflicted on us – or what some call revenge – that’s what cowards do. But absorbing the pain of the world with Jesus and for Jesus – that’s what disciples do. <br /><br /><br />And so let me end by saying this. It is a wonderful and Godly thing to remember the events of September 11, 2001. We need to remember. But as disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to remember all things in light of the coming reign of God. And so as you go out into the world this week, here’s what I hope you’ll remember. <br /><br /><br />First, remember the cross. 9/11 in particular and all violence in general, is first and foremost an offense against God. We all owe a massive debt, and on the cross Jesus Christ absorbed all of it.<br /><br />Second, remember those who gave their lives to save others, and who did so willingly, and remember the many smaller sacrifices people made in the weeks that followed. God created us to pour out our lives to serve other people. We need to remember and celebrate the times we do that well.<br /><br /><br />Third, remember that Jesus commands us to pray for our enemies – for those who wish us harm – and that in praying for us on the cross Jesus was praying for his enemies, for it is we who crucified Him. The cross reconciled us to God. Jesus intends us to be reconciled to our enemies.<br /><br /><br />Finally, and this is by far the most important – remember that all pain and death and disease and decay and terrorism and revenge will all come to a decisive end when the Kingdom of God arrives in its fullness. Christ had died, Christ has risen, and Christ will come again. And when that happens, Jesus will bring with Him the world we were made to live in. But in the meantime, it matters tremendously how we live, how we treat people, and whether or not we choose to forgive the people that hurt us. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Let us pray. </span> O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. AMEN.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-38810357231339460802011-08-30T13:03:00.000-07:002011-08-30T13:07:17.958-07:00I never made a sacrifice<span style="font-weight:bold;">
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<br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/sacrifice.mp3
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<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” </span>
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<br />I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Catherine’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. And I’m really excited to be here. In fact, I was at a conference with Mike in Boston this summer where he gave a presentation on the amazing work that God was doing in this community. And it wasn’t just me who got excited – our presiding bishop was also there and she was excited, and because I work on the bishop’s staff I can say with the utmost certainty that the entire diocesan staff is excited about what’s happening in this community. And so thank you for having me this morning – this is truly a privilege.
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<br />There’s a word that I think best describes the ethos of life in 21st century America – and that’s consumeristic – you and I live in a world that teaches us to consume. And consumerism’s a powerful idea because it feeds on the deepest desires of the human heart. You see, we all want to be happy. We want to be whole. We want to know who we are and why we’re here. And consumerism’s goal is to tell us how to do that – by consuming – what I call the “if only” mentality. If only I had a newer car, a nicer suit, if only I had a bigger house, a better paying job, a thinner waistline or a 52 inch flat screen – if only I had that, then I’d be happy and whole. As Homer Simpson put it, “the answers to life’s problems aren’t at the bottom of a bottle, they’re on TV!” And so the comsumeristic worldview can be summed up like this. “Meaning is found out there, and so if any want to become fulfilled, let them deny nothing, take up their urge, and follow it. For those who want to save their life will fill it.”
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<br />Now in complete contrast to this me-centered, I need to consume or I’ll never be happy mindset stands the Christian Gospel. And a few years back I came across a quote that’s had a huge impact on how I understand this Gospel. David Livingstone was a 19th century missionary, and this quote’s his response to a Cambridge student curious as to why he’d give up everything to serve the poor in Africa. And this is what Livingstone said. “People talk of the sacrifice I’ve made in spending so much of my life in Africa. Is it a sacrifice which brings its own reward in the consciousness of doing good or that brings hope of some glorious reward in the future? Away with such a thought! It is emphatically no sacrifice, say rather a privilege. And then he said something I’ll never forget. “I never made a sacrifice.”
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<br />But isn’t sacrifice what Jesus calls us to do? I mean in today’s Gospel Jesus is pretty clear that if our primary motivation is to save our life – to preserve our own interests at all costs – we’re going to forfeit the very thing that we seek. And so here are the questions I’d like to wrestle with the morning. What exactly does Jesus ask us to give up? And second, where do we find the strength to make that sacrifice?
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<br />Now you may recall from last week that in the context of Matthew’s Gospel Peter has just confessed his faith in Jesus as the Messiah. Well, this week Peter decides to tell Jesus how to do his job. You see Peter has a really clear picture of what a successful Messiah looks like, and what Jesus says about the cross doesn’t really jive with Peter’s script. The Messiah’s supposed to restore the Jewish kingdom by defeating the Roman authorities – not be defeated by them. And so when Jesus says that his strategy is to suffer and to die, to lose his life, Peter decides to intervene. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”
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<br />But you know what I think Peter’s really saying. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to me.” You see Peter – I think he just wants what we all want. To be happy. To be whole. To know who he is and why he’s here. But Peter thinks that in order for this to happen, Jesus needs to start acting like a proper Messiah – like the kind that’ll overthrow Rome and appoint Peter to his cabinet. Peter’s thinking, “Jesus will be president and I’ll the VP. Because when that happens, I’ll finally be important. I’ll be happy. I’ll be whole. I’ll know who I am and why I’m here. But the cross? God forbid it. That must never happen to me.”
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<br />You see Peer didn’t rebuke Jesus because He was looking out for Jesus. Peter rebuked Jesus because He was looking out for Peter – because he was trying to find his own happiness his own way. And what I want us to see is that even though Jesus’ response is harsh, what Jesus is actually doing is showing sympathy. Because the point of today’s Gospel is not that Jesus wants us to stuff the deepest desires of our heart. It’s that he wants us to find the deepest desires of our heart in Him. “You want to be happy?” Jesus says, “You want to be whole? Do you want to know who you are and why you’re here? Then deny yourself. Take up your cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life are going to lose it, but those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
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<br />And so let’s go back to that first question – what exactly does Jesus ask us to give up? And here’s what I’d say about that. The primary thing Jesus wants us to give up – what he wants us to sacrifice – is that consumeristic lie that says that we can have the deepest desires of our heart met outside of an intimate relationship with Him and His mission to save the world. What Jesus asks us to sacrifice is our desire to be happy apart from Him, not because He’s mean, but because it doesn’t work! Jesus loves us, and he doesn’t want us to spend our lives looking for water in the midst of empty wells. But that doesn’t stop us from trying – from investing our ultimate home in our job or our net worth or in what so-and-so thinks of us or in how we look or in our marriage or in our children or in something other than Christ. And whatever that idol is for us – whatever it is that’s out there that “if only” we had we think we’d be whole – that is the very thing that needs to die. This is how CS Lewis puts it in Mere Christianity.
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<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favorite wishes every day: submit with every fiber of your being. Keep back nothing. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in. </span>
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<br />In other words, what has to die in each one of us is our desire to be happy apart from Christ.
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<br />But that’s hard – and so where do we find the strength to make those sacrifices? Well, let’s start with the good news. We’re here. We’ve gathered this morning as a community of disciples to hear the Word of God, to confess our sins, and to reach out our hands and ask to be fed. And so we start by showing up and just acknowledging that Jesus is not a seven-easy-steps to losing your life kind of Savior. I mean think about it, the disciples in today’s Gospel – they’ve been following Jesus for a while now and it’s today, for the very first time, that they begin to grasp the meaning of discipleship. And so here’s the point I’m trying to make. We never know the cost of following Jesus when we join the church, or when we’re confirmed. The disciples in today’s Gospel sure didn’t. And so we begin by showing up with an open heart, week after week, because the meaning of discipleship is always learned along the way.
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<br />But that being said it is learned, which is what formation is all about, and so here’s what I’d like to leave you with this morning. We do not find our life – the deepest desires of our heart – in Jesus by deciding to try harder. No, our heart has to be moved so that we can say with Livingstone, “I never made a sacrifice.” And so let the focus of your heart be the only sacrifice that is at the center of the Christian Gospel. And I’m not talking about our sacrifice for Jesus. I’m talking about Jesus’ sacrifice for us. Because the first cross we’re asked to embrace is not our own – it’s Jesus’. In other words, we’ll never take up our own cross until we first learn to take up His. After all, that question Jesus asks us – “what will you give in return for your life?” – is the same question the Father asked Jesus. “Jesus, what will you give in return for their life?” And the good news of the Christian Gospel is that Jesus had an answer. “My own. I will give my own life in return for theirs.”
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<br />Focus on the Lord who lost His life for you, and you’ll find the strength to lose your life for him. Mediate on Hebrews 12:2, which says, “For the sake of the joy that was set before Him Jesus endured the cross and disregarded its shame.” And then ask yourself the question – what was the joy that was set before Jesus that made the cross seem as nothing? Equality with God? Perfect bliss with the Father in Heaven? The entire creation? The worship of angels? And of course the answer is no, because Jesus already had all these things. And so what was the joy set before Jesus that, according to Hebrews, made the cross seem as nothing – what didn’t Jesus already have? And of course the answer is us. Jesus’ love for you and for me was so great that to Jesus the cross seemed as nothing.
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<br />In fact, I love thinking about God the Father, on that first Easter morning, thanking Jesus – thanking him for his willingness to sacrifice His own life for the world; for the sacrificial love of that one singular act. And then I like to imagine Jesus’ response, as He thinks about you and me and this church and the world and then deciding to say this in response. “Father, I never made a sacrifice.”
<br />John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-76262521845277898492011-08-23T08:09:00.000-07:002011-08-23T08:11:03.145-07:00The power of our confession<span style="font-weight:bold;">
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<br />http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/confession.mp3
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<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" And they said, "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.</span>
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<br />I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Paul’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. And I’m really excited to be here, because whenever you’re ordained in the Diocese of Texas they send you to Curate Camp once a month to be mentored, and Chuck runs that program and played a pretty big role in my formation as a priest. And so aside from just liking him, I have a lot of respect for Fr. Chuck and so to honor the role he’s had in my life, I decided to grow this beard as a tribute. Sadly, I spent a little more time on the beard than the sermon.
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<br />What I’d like to offer this morning are some thoughts on today’s Gospel, where Jesus gives Peter the keys to the kingdom of heaven. That’s right, Peter – who always misses the point, who speaks before he thinks, who tries to walk on water – Jesus gives Peter power. He gives him authority. He gives him a mission. Now remember, Peter’s that guy who cut off someone’s ear and denied Jesus in his time of need. And Jesus gives the keys to Peter.
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<br />You see I, too, was once handed a set of keys I didn’t deserve. It was my sixteenth birthday. And they were keys that, in theory, enabled me to exceed a speed of 100 miles per hour. And at sixteen I tested that theory a lot. But I’m not sure who was less mature – adult Simon Peter or adolescent John Newton – but I got keys to a car and Peter got keys to the kingdom – a symbol for power, authority and mission. And so here’s the question I’d like wrestle with this morning. As a church, what’s the basis of our authority, and second, what’s the nature of our mission?
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<br />Well, let’s just go ahead and be clear that our authority is not connected to our merits. I won’t speak for anyone else, but I can be pretty selfish, stubborn and sinful. And so to be a Christian is not to stand in this world from a place of moral superiority, and the people Jesus had the most beef with were the legalistic Pharisees who thought that they could. Perhaps my favorite quote of all time comes from St. Augustine, who was once asked by a seeker what to expect if he went to a church. Augustine responded, “Drunkards, misers, tricksters, gamblers, adulterers, fornicators, and assiduous clients of sorcerers.” Now, I’m not saying you should put that on your website, but Augustine’s point is worth noting. Jesus doesn’t give us the keys to the kingdom because we’re good. But how do we get those keys?
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<br />Well, in today’s Gospel Jesus asks his disciples a question. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And as they begin to tap dance around Jesus’ question – “some say this, others say that” – Jesus cuts to the chase and Jesus gets personal. “Yea, but I’m asking you – who do you say that I am?” You see, there’s something about this question that forces us to take a stand.
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<br />As a church, we need to always be asking this question – what are we clinging to as the basis of our authority? And if today’s Gospel tells us anything, it’s that what makes Jesus’ church a rock is not our record. It’s our decision to confess that Jesus is Lord. In fact, a friend recently told me that the words decide and homicide share the same root. And his point was that when we decide for something we at the same time have to decide against, or kill, something else. And that’s what Jesus is asking his disciples for in today’s Gospel, a decision, he wants them to take a stand, which is exactly what Peter does. “You are the Messiah,” he says, “the Son of the Living God.”
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<br />I am convinced that there is only one thing we can cling to as disciples of Jesus Christ – our confession that Jesus is Lord – that, and nothing else, is the power we take into the world. And I’m obviously not talking about the kind of power that’s so prevalent in our world. I don’t mean power that’s coercive or violent or self-seeking. I’m talking about the power that’s unique to the Christian Gospel – the power that’s revealed in a Messiah that came not to conquer but to be conquered; that came not to be served but to serve; that came not to judge but to be judged. I’m talking about the power of Jesus – a power that’s unleashed when we answer His question. Who do you say that I am?
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<br />And for the record, this is not a question that Jesus asks us only once. It’s a question that Jesus asks us every day of our lives precisely because He wants us to always be taking a stand – not so much on doctrine, but on discipleship. Because like my friend said, the words decide and homicide share the same root, which means that whenever we decide for Jesus, something else inevitably dies – like the idea that we’re in charge, or that we take care of ourselves, or that we even know what’s best for us. In other words, to confess with Peter that Jesus is Lord is at the same time a decision to confess who isn’t Lord: us.
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<br />But with that confession comes a mission. “On this rock,” Jesus says – the rock being our confession – “I will build my church.” Now, when Jesus talks about building His church, Jesus is not talking about a building, or an institution, a denomination or a club – He’s talking about a people; a people that know the power and authority that come with confessing His name, and who consistently choose to live in this world relying on His generosity, His wisdom, and His mercy and not on themselves. In fact, the Greek word translated church is ekklesia, which literally means “an assembly of people called out.” And so to be part of that one church that Jesus Christ is building is to be among the assembly of his disciples called out into the world with a counter-cultural, confession: there is one Lord, one Messiah, one Son of the Living God who is in control of my life and this world – and thanks be to God, it isn’t me.
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<br />You see, there’s a reason this confession is so important and live giving. We live in a world that’s bought into the myth of self-sufficiency, which runs completely counter to the Christian witness that we’re utterly dependent and in desperate need of the salvation – the wholeness – that only God can give. I’m not sure when, but somewhere along the line we bought into the lie that if we just work hard enough we can build the perfect marriage, the perfect job, the perfect life and make ourselves whole. As the late Henry Nouwen put it,
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<br />“The world around us is saying in a loud voice, we can take care of ourselves. We do not need God or the Church. We are in control. And if we are not, we have to work harder to get in control. But beneath all the great accomplishments there is a deep current of despair. Broken relationships, boredom, and depression fill the hearts of millions.” In other words, what I think Nouwen is saying is this. You and I were not meant to bear the burden of Godhood, and the first thing God asks us to give up when we confess Jesus as Lord is the burden that comes with trying to be our own.
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<br />And so as you go out into the world this week, here’s what I’d offer as your mission to the world. If only to yourself in the recesses of your heart, decide to confess the Lordship of Jesus, and decide to meditate on what that means for your life. Because every single time we decide to confess that Jesus is Lord there is at the same time a homicide. And what has to die in each one of us is that false notion that we’re in control of our lives, or that we’re perfect, or that we can make ourselves whole if we just try hard enough.
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<br />And so let me end by asking you this. Are you frustrated? Burnt-out? Anxious? Angry? A little tired from trying to be your own Lord? There is so much power, so much authority, that comes with knowing we don’t have to please, perform or perfect our way into the Kingdom of God but that it always comes as a gift – not because we’re good, but because God is. Like Simon Peter, God gives us the keys to his kingdom every single time we make our confession. But then again, we all must decide for ourselves. Because some say this and others say that, but who do you say that He is?
<br />John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4209895678343030772.post-70423102092086837822011-07-12T14:32:00.000-07:002011-07-12T14:35:40.343-07:00reckless love<span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!<br /></span><br /><br />A few years back I bought a house here in Austin with a barren front yard. And after doing some research, it dawned on me that planting grass is pretty tough work. I’d have to loosen the ground and rake it into a thousand little furrows. The seed had to be scattered carefully and evenly. I would then put down wheat straw, which I was told would hold in the moisture before watering – which apparently is also a science. Not too much! The seeds will wash away. But not too little or the seeds won’t grow. Now, I never actually did any of this but I did learn a lesson. A careful farmer has knowledge, competency and skill. A careful farmer is diligent, patient and gentle. A careful farmer takes his time. <br /><br /><br />Now with that in mind, it’s worth asking, what’s Jesus doing in today’s Gospel by giving us a story about a farmer that just throws seed around like it’s confetti on New Year’s? On the path, the thorns, the rocky ground, the good soil – it doesn’t matter. The Farmer in Jesus’ parable throws seed around indiscriminately. He’s reckless, he’s wasteful and even seems to be in a hurry. Which is shocking – right? – Because we know who this Sower represents – God. In today’s Gospel, Jesus likens his Father to a reckless and wasteful farmer. And so here’s the question we need to ask. What is Jesus trying to say about the nature of God, and what’s he trying to tell us his disciples? Once again, what does this parable say about God, and what does this parable mean for us? <br /><br />Now, you may think you know where I’m trying to take this. Be the good soil – don’t be hard hearted and shallow and materialistic like the other soils, but be the good soil. After all, this is a parable, which according to the dictionary is a short allegorical story that illustrates a well-known truth. That’s also what I was taught in Sunday school –that parables are just stories with moral lessons – and had I been a little older and a tad wiser I would have sued my church for malpractice. Why? – Because Jesus didn’t tell parables to illustrate a well-known truth. He told parables to shatter well-known truths. You see in Jesus’ day everyone thought they knew who it was that God favored – the right, the respectable, the religious, and the rule-keepers. And so to say that Jesus told this parable to confirm that belief, that He’s trying to scare us into being the respectable good soil is to entirely miss the point. Because the God Jesus reveals is not some methodical farmer looking only for the “best soil” to love. No, the God Jesus knows is like this Farmer – reckless, wasteful and in a hurry to sow His love wherever he can – on the path, the thorns, the rocky ground, the good soil – it doesn’t matter. The nature of God is to sow love everywhere!<br /><br />You see, contrary to what we may have been taught, this isn’t a parable about good soil. It’s a parable about a good sower. And what Jesus is trying to say is that God isn’t cautious, strategic and calculated when it comes to sowing His love. Because He loves when we don’t love back. He blesses when we don’t say thanks. He sows when we’re surrounded by thorns. And that is what Jesus is saying about God – that He loves the rebellious and the religious as if they were the same. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done, whether you’re a regular or a visitor, whether you’re on top of the world or stuck in the pit – black/white, rich/poor, old/young, sober/addicted, popular/alone – none of that matters to this indiscriminate and reckless God. He is in a hurry to invest in you. In other words, this parable isn’t Jesus’ way of trying to convince us to be good. It’s his way of trying to convince us that God is good. <br /><br />Brennan Manning, who’s one of my favorite authors, tells the true story of an Irish priest who stumbles upon a peasant praying by the side of the road. And so the priest, who’s impressed, says to the peasant, “You must be really close to God.” And this is how that peasant responded. “I am, because God is very fond of me.” How sweet would life be, how many problems would disappear, how many rocks would be removed and how many thorns would be uprooted if we only believed that? If we believed that God is fond of us –not that we’re forgiven, or accepted, or tolerated – but that we are all the apple of His eye. I sure hope you’ve heard that before – that God is so very fond of you. Because Jesus was under the impression that hearing this good news and understanding it was half the battle. After all, the good soil in today’s parable aren’t the ones that are perfect – they’re people that hear the word and understand it. Is the God we believe in legalistic? Does the God we know only favor the right, the respectable, the religious, and the rule-keepers? Because Jesus’ intention in telling this parable was to demolish that God. The God He knows is reckless, wasteful and in a hurry to sow His love among thorny, rocky, and hard-hearted people. Why? Because God is so very fond of everyone. <br /><br />Now, if we believe that, there is a second question we need to ask. What does this parable mean for us, for this community here at St. James? Well, a lot but I’ll mention two things. <br /><br />First, sow love everywhere. Our God is reckless and generous and He sows love indiscriminately. If you and I are serious about being a disciple of Jesus, we will do the same. I mean, can you imagine how exciting and transformative churches would be if they poured into their community like the sower in today’s parable? Or how rich and joy-filled we would be if we loved and blessed the people in our lives like God loves and blesses us? Now, I know that’s easier said than done. And as we all know, to have our love fall on rocky, arid or weed-infested ground has the capacity to break our hearts. But here’s what I’d like to say about that. Isn’t that what Jesus did for us? Did he not offer words of blessing as the crowds mocked him? If we sow love like the farmer in Jesus’ parable it will break our hearts from time to time. But you know what? It’s also going to loosen the soil of our hearts so that the love that God’s pouring in can bear fruit. Sow love everywhere – it will not return to you empty. <br /><br />Second, this parable is a call to be patient. God is a farmer that sows seeds; not some general that demands change. You see all earthly kingdoms come quickly, visibly and through force, but not the Kingdom of God, it grows slowly, secretly and quietly – like a seed buried in the ground. And so be patient with yourself, and be patient with the people you’re investing in! Because the truth is, each one of us is a mix of good soil, thorns and rocks. And we need to know that God is still working on our thorny, rocky places. In fact, in the Gospel of John Jesus compares God to a gardener that prunes those places in us that need to bear more fruit. But pruning takes time, and only God has the knowledge, competency and skill to do it. And so be patient. <br /><br />And so here’s what I’d like to leave you with this morning. The point of today’s parable isn’t primarily to convince us be good. It’s to help us understand that God is good. And it’s also a parable about a miraculous yield! Remember, the parable ends by reminding us that God knows what He’s doing – that all this sowing will reap a hundredfold – and of that we can be certain. After all, the Christian Gospel is not about many seeds being sown but about One Seed in particular – about One Seed in particular that embodied the fullness of God’s love and was buried beneath the earth only to be raised that first Easter morning – which is our guarantee of just how fond God is of us all. Black/white, rich/poor, young/old, sober/addicted, popular/alone, thorns/rocks – none of that matters – God is reckless with his love. Be reckless with yours, too. Sow love everywhere. It will not return to you empty. God is good, and He is so very fond of you.John Newtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02773774745332432331noreply@blogger.com0