GOD’S WORK IN PROGRESS

authenticity (from a christian perspective)

2012-01-25T11:17:00.000-08:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE
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Mark 1: 14-20

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?

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?

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?

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.

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.”

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.

And so once again, what does it mean to be authentic?

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

And so as you go about this important work, I’m going to end by leaving you again with something CS Lewis said.

“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.”

Jesus' Stone Pillow, and ours

2012-01-17T14:54:00.000-08:00

A sermon on John 1: 43-51

TO LISTEN ONLINE:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/stonepillow.mp3

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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!
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.

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.

“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.

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.

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?

“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.”

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.

Why was Jesus baptized?

2012-01-10T09:41:00.000-08:00

A sermon on Mark 1: 4-11
http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=193217200

To listen to audio version:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/gracesermon.mp3

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?

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?

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.

“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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

You see baptism is for people that identity with sinners. And thank God that Jesus was someone that did.

the supernatural conception(s)

2011-12-20T08:49:00.000-08:00

A SERMON ON CHRISTIAN FORMATION IN CONVERSATION WITH LUKE 1: 26-38

And so what exactly is Christian formation? Here’s my definition.

Christian formation is the Spirit’s work for forming Jesus Christ inside of us, which is our destiny as God’s image bearers.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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)

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.

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.

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.

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.

Christian formation is the Spirit’s work for forming Jesus Christ inside of us, which is our destiny as God’s image bearers.

It still happens. Mary said “yes.” The question I leave us with today is, “will you?”

Joy!

2011-12-13T06:31:00.000-08:00

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“Rejoice always; give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“Rejoice always. Give thanks in all circumstances. This is will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

Prepare the King a Road

2011-12-06T09:48:00.000-08:00

A sermon on Mark 1:1-8
http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=190193590

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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.

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.

And here’s how I’d summarize Mark’s thesis: Our God and our King is coming. Let our hearts prepare him a road.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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?

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Our God and our King is coming. Let our hearts prepare him a road.

a word we can rely on

2011-11-29T09:08:00.000-08:00

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"Words that won’t pass away"
Mark 13: 24-37

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.”

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.

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?

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Christ the King

2011-11-22T11:04:00.000-08:00

A sermon on Matthew 25: 31-46; “The sheep and the goats”

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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?

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

the feast of discipleship

2011-10-11T10:05:00.000-07:00

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Bible reading: Matthew 22: 1-14

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

subvert the paradigm

2011-09-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/subvert.mp3

A sermon on:
Matthew 20: 1-16

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.”

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?

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.

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.

remembering 9-11

2011-09-13T13:28:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE:

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/sep11sermon.mp3

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Let us pray. 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.

I never made a sacrifice

2011-08-30T13:03:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE:

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/sacrifice.mp3

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.”

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.

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.”

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.”

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?

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

In other words, what has to die in each one of us is our desire to be happy apart from Christ.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

The power of our confession

2011-08-23T08:09:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE:

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/confession.mp3

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.”

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?

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.

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.

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,

“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.

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.

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?

reckless love

2011-07-12T14:32:00.000-07:00

THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER

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!

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.

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?

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

in the image of (a Triune) God

2011-06-21T09:02:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/trinity.mp3

“So God created humankind in His image, in the image of God he created them.”

I want to begin by introducing myself. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. It is really great to be with you this morning at Trinity Church on Trinity Sunday to preach a sermon on … drumroll … the Trinity. As John Wesley once said, “bring me the worm that can comprehend a man, and I’ll show you the man that can comprehend the Trinity.” Perhaps no Christian doctrine is more intellectually challenging than the Trinity. And so now that we’re clear that I don’t understand the subject matter, let’s dive in.

What I admire the most about kids is their questioning nature, because once they learn the word why they can’t really seem to unlearn it. “Time to go to bed. Why? Because I said so. Why? Because I’m in charge. Why?” Of course, those are all small why questions, but eventually we get to the big ones. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? After all, those big why questions are built into our D.N.A.

I’ll never forget the first hopeless answer I ever got to that question. It was my first semester of college, and we had to read a British Philosopher by the name of Bertrand Russell, who got famous for his response to the big why question. “Man,” He said, “is nothing but the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms.” Why are we here? We’re here because of a molecular accident. A hopeless answer to the why question indeed.

But then again, most people throughout history have given such an answer. In fact, if you had been born in the ancient near east around 1200 BC, just before the Book of Genesis was written, your world would have been an incredibly hopeless one. There were many gods, or so it was believed, and they all were at war. And so as a kid, you probably asked your parents why the gods created you. After all, there’s not a kid in the world that doesn’t ask that question. But every answer had a similar hopelessness. We were created because the gods were bored; because they were lonely; because the gods were lazy and needed free labor. In other words, if you were born in the ancient near east, there was no why.

Well, it was into this horribly hopeless world that these words were first recorded. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth and saw that it was good.” And then the kicker – “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them.” In other words, what we have in today’s reading from Genesis is an answer to that big why question that revolutionized this world. Why are we here? Why did God create us? Why were we made? We were created to reveal God. We were created to reflect God. We were created to image God.

You see contrary to the polytheistic beliefs of its time – where many gods existed that were all jockeying for power – the Bible reveals a supra-personal, loving God – a God that has three distinct personalities on the one hand, and yet at the same time is too unified to be more than one. And of course, I’m talking about the Trinity – that doctrine that says that the God we worship is a perfect community of love. And what our reading from Genesis reveals is that it was this Triune God that created both us and our world. As Genesis 1:1 tells us, “God created,” which we attribute to the work of the Father. And in verse two, the Spirit of God hovers over the waters, which is same language the Gospels use to talk about the Holy Spirit hovering over the water at Jesus’ baptism. And finally, Genesis 1:3 tells us that God creates by speaking His Word. Creation is not something that God thinks into existence. No, God speaks His word. And of course in the Gospel of John we learn that this “Word” is expressed fully in the person of Jesus Christ. And so it’s important to see that from the outset of our sacred story, we find one God existing in a relationship that is harmoniously intact and perfect.

We were not created because God is bored. We were not created because God is lazy. We are not a molecular accident. No, you and I exist because at the heart of all reality is this wonderful and dynamic life that we call the Trinity, and that because this God is generous and kind and good, He decided to create us to be what Karl Barth called, “a parable of His own life.” We were created to reveal, reflect and image God.

But here’s the catch – because God is a perfect community, we simply cannot reflect God alone. Because if God is a perfect community, and we were created to image this God, that means that the doctrine of the Trinity is not just an intellectual challenge – it’s an ethical one. Because to the extent that we grasp that the very thing that holds up this universe is a perfect community of love, we’re going to be challenged to be more thoughtful about how we relate to other people. After all, we were created for perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships – with God, and with each other.

And course that’s what the second chapter of Genesis is all about. Adam and Eve were both naked, but not ashamed – which apparently means that the Garden of Eden was the first nudist colony. The point being made is that both Adam and Eve were totally exposed and known. No masks. No hiding. No lies. They were in perfect communion with each other.

But at the same time, Adam and Eve were in perfect communion with God. After all, what the Bible suggests is that God was in the garden with both of them the entire time. In fact, a rabbinic tradition taught that every evening God and Adam would take a walk together. And I can only imagine they talked about how beautiful Eve was and about how great it was to be with her. And as for Eve, I bet she felt really safe and loved and cherished – not used or taken for granted – but appreciated and admired for who she was because she knew that she was seen for who she was. That is, after all, what Eden represents – perfect, intact, and harmonious relationships.

Now, I know what you could be thinking. “I’m not sure what world you’re living in, but the world you just described, that’s not the real one!” And you’re right, it’s not. Unless it is.

You see in today’s Gospel Jesus gives his disciples the Great Commission. “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What I’d like to suggest this morning is that the Great Commission has two meanings, and what I’d like to do is say a word about the interpretation you probably haven’t heard. You see that Greek word translated baptize – it doesn’t just mean to immerse in water. It also means to overwhelm. And that Greek word translated “Name,” – that’s not just a baptismal formula, because in the Bible, to do anything in someone’s name means to do it with their character – to do it with their spirit. Do you see how that changes our view of mission? “Go and make disciples of all nations overwhelming them with the character of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. That is our mission as a church – to overwhelm the world with loving character of this Triune God so that the world is irresistibly drawn to follow Jesus as their Lord.

The Book of Genesis revolutionized our world with its answer to the big why question. The question I leave us with this morning is has it revolutionized our lives? Because the world we live in – the people we work with, spend time with and live with – they are so desperate for a hopeful answer to the big why question. And what I would like to suggest today is that the most compelling answer to that question has little to do with what we say and much more to do with how we live. The Trinity is far more of an ethical challenge than it is an intellectual one. When we jockey for power and position, when we run around with a mask, when we use criticism or sarcasm or lies to shield people from seeing us for who we are, we are not imaging the Trinity. It’s when we form deep, vulnerable, and non-violent relationships; it’s when we invest in someone we don’t know; it’s when we stop seeking to live self-sufficient lives; those are the moments when we reflect God most clearly, the moments that make it possible to overwhelm the world with God’s love.

At the center of all reality is a perfect, intact and harmonious relationship. We were made to both experience and reflect that relationship to each other and to the creation in a way that is overwhelming. That is the reason we are here. And so here’s my question. Are harmonious relationships at the center of our lives and if not … why?

what now?

2011-06-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

To listen online

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/whatnow.mp3

When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.

I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Aidan’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.

Once upon a time, in a land of fear and confusion, some exciting news began to circulate. It was the good news of the big race. This race had long been anticipated by the people’s ancient oracles, and the prophecies were clear -- anyone that persevered in running this race was promised restoration, support and strength (1 Pet 5:10).

Well, the day of the big race finally arrived, and when the opening gun sounded, everyone began running with all of their might. But then something happened. There was this guy who, after just taking a few steps, fell to his knees, and began to rejoice. “This is the happiest day of my life! I’ve crossed the starting line.” And then all the others, sure enough, followed suit – they too stopped running and began to celebrate. “I’m a race runner! I’m a race runner!” they all shouted in joy. And on and on went their celebration just feet from the starting line. Well, the joy of that opening gun eventually wore off and, before they could even explain what had happened, they were all back in the land of fear and confusion. And so as the story goes, they stared at the sky and said, “What now?”

I don’t know about you, but this story resonates with my own experience, and I think it’s a pretty accurate portrait of where many of us find ourselves. We remember the initial joy that came with first encountering Christ – when that opening gun sounded and we took those first steps with all that we had. But before we could even explain what happened, something put us back in that inner place of fear and confusion, leaving us staring at the sky and asking what now?

Jesus’ disciples, of course, felt the same way. According to Luke – the author of the Book of Acts – the forty days following Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples scared, confused and not quite sure of what they were supposed to do next. After all, that first Easter week was spent in an upper room with a deadbolt lock. According to the Gospel of John the disciples eventually left that Upper Room, but only to return to a life of fishing. Scared, confused and uncertain, Jesus’ resurrection left the disciples not with an answer but with a question –
What now?

Could you hear it in their voice in today’s reading from Acts? “Lord,” they say, “is this the time you’re going to restore the Kingdom?” “No? Okay, uhh, and you’re flying away? What are we supposed to do now?” But you see, Jesus did not intend his Ascension – that is, his resurrected body leaving this earth – Jesus did not intend his Ascension to spark that what now question. Jesus intended his physical leaving to answer that “what now” question. What now? “You,” Jesus said to his disciples – “you,” Jesus says to us – “You will be my witnesses.”

And so what exactly does that mean – to be a witness for Jesus? It’s an important word. In fact, Luke uses it 13 times to sum up the Christian life. Well, the Greek word translated “witness” is martus, which is where we get the word martyr, and a martyr, as you probably know, is someone that loses their life for Jesus.

One can’t help but see the irony of these words spoken to the first disciples. Peter was crucified upside down. James was stoned. Bartholomew was beheaded. Of the eleven listed in today’s reading, only John died a natural death. The other ten lost their life for Jesus. Could they have avoided such a death? Probably – but what better witness could they have given to our world that their Lord was still alive? That’s what a witness is – someone that loses their life for Jesus.

CS Lewis, who wrote the “Space Trilogy” novels, was once asked to comment on the morality of humans living on other planets, assuming such a thing we possible. Lewis thought carefully before giving this response: “Let’s pray that the human race never escapes the Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere.” Here’s what I think Lewis was trying to say. This world that we live in is so desperate – so desperate – for witnesses who are willing to die to self to show the world that Christ is still alive. We live in a world of fear and confusion. War, famine, and violence are the realities that characterize life for many in our world. Now, we may be shielded from someone else tearing our homes and families apart, but many of us have experienced homes and families torn apart from the inside. We live in a world where the gentle art of being kind and thoughtful, sensitive and generous is going out of fashion, a world that believes that the secret to life is to get ahead, even at the expense of someone else. “You’ve got to look out for number one.” That’s the mantra of our world. And so in light of that, there’s something today’s reading from Acts raises for us. What is the nature of our presence in the midst of this world? In other words, if it’s true that our lives speak, what story do they tell? Because it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?

In his book The Jesus I Never Knew Phillip Yancey writes about the connection between the Ascension and the mission of the Church, and this is what he says. “Jesus knew that the world he left behind would include the poor, the hungry, the prisoners, and the sick. The decrepit state of the world did not surprise him, and he made plans to cope with it. The long-range plan involves his return, in power and great glory, to straighten out this planet, [but] the short-range plan means turning it over to [the church]. He ascended so that we would take his place.” He then said something that blew my mind. “Where is God when it hurts, I have often asked. The [Ascension] answers that question by asking another – where is the church when it hurts?” In other words, we ask God – “Will you? Will you change this? Will you restore this?” To which Jesus replies, Will you? Will you be my witnesses? Will you now do what I’ve already done? I lost my life for you. Will you now lose your life to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel?

Now, I don’t know what losing your life for Jesus’ sake will mean for you. I seriously doubt it’ll mean capital punishment, though we shouldn’t forget that for many in our world it still does. But our faith should cost us something. As Bonhoeffer once noted, “grace is free but it certainly is not cheap.” We should be able to look at our friendships and our calendar and our bank statement and our reputation and be able to see the cross. Our faith in Christ should cost us something, and when we start to sense that, it’s little wonder we stop running after only a few steps in the Christian life. We look ahead in the distance and see a cross and get scared. But here’s what I think we fail to see, what I always fail to see when my faith grows stagnant. Rather than being something we have to endure or “get over,” the sacrifices we make to bear witness to the Gospel are not something that diminish our joy. They’re the source of our joy. To put it differently, joy in the Christian life only grows as we move away from that starting line and run towards that cross as Jesus’ witness along the way. As our reading from 1 Peter put it, “Beloved,” he says, “don’t be surprised when you suffer but rejoice for you are sharing Christ’s sufferings. Cast all your anxiety on Him, because he cares for you. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace will himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.”

The good news of the Christian Gospel is that there is a long-term plan to permanently end all fear and confusion. As the angels told the disciples, “this same Jesus, who was taken up into heaven, will indeed come back in the same way that you saw Him leave.” When will that be? “It is not for us to know,” Jesus said, “that time set by the Father’s own authority.” Because there is after all a short term plan – and that plan involves us – not because Christ is now absent from the world, but because we are the ones in whom Jesus now chooses to be present to the world. We are Jesus’ witnesses. Understanding the privilege of that call – and joyfully accepting it – that’s what the good news of the race is all about.

And so here’s the question I leave us with this morning – what now? I suppose we can stand still and just stare at the sky, or, as the author of Hebrews writes, we can “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” You see it’s never a question of whether or not we are a witness. The question is always what are we witnessing to?

God's great reminder

2011-05-31T07:37:00.000-07:00

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/godsreminder.mp3

CS Lewis was fond of saying, “people in the church don’t need to be instructed; they need to be reminded.” In other words, part of the Gospel’s difficulty is its simplicity, and the great task of the Christian is not to absorb the latest ideas but to return – time and time again – to the simple truth of the Gospel. Swiss theologian Karl Barth was among the most influential theologians of the 20th century, and over his life he wrote 13 volumes, which took 35 years, to explain the meaning of the Christian faith. He was once asked by a reporter if he could summarize those 13 volumes in a few sentences, to which Barth replied, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” The Gospel’s difficulty is its utter simplicity, and we who call ourselves Christians don’t really need to be instructed, we need to be reminded.

Today, what I’d like to do is look at Paul’s speech to the Athenians, because in it I see for key reminders at the heart of Christian discipleship. And those four reminders can be stated as follows.

Everyone’s religious.
God can’t be served.
We were created to seek.
To the extent that we find we will repent.

Everyone’s religious

First, all people are religious. “Athenians,” Paul says, “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.” You see Paul’s been walking around the city and can’t help but notice all of the shrines. There was a shrine to Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty; Ares the god of war; Artemis, the goddess of wealth; and of course many more. Now, you and I live in a world that thinks there are religious people and there are secular people, but is that really how the world works?

You see that word religion – it comes from the Latin ligare, which means to “bind or to connect.” In other words, our religion is that which we bind or connect our hearts to in order to feel secure. Now, I seriously doubt you worship the god of war. But are you ever tempted to rely on your power and sense of accomplishment in order to feel secure? I know I am. And I seriously doubt that any of you have a statue of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, in your home. But is your wisdom – your knowledge and ability to speak eloquently about science or politics or something else – is that your primary source of meaning? We are all extremely religious. We all bind or connect our hearts to something or to someone to feel secure. That’s not the question – the question is always to what; the Living God or some other shrine made by human hands?

As Timothy Keller puts it, “We may not physically kneel before the statue of Aphrodite, but many young women today are driven into depression and eating disorders by an obsessive concern over their body image. We may not actually burn incense to Artemis, but when money and career are raised to cosmic proportions, we perform a kind of child sacrifice, neglecting family and community to … gain more wealth and prestige.” In other words, it’s never a question of whether or not a person has faith. The question is always, who or what is our faith in?

God can’t be served.

That brings us to our second key point – God cannot be served. In the words of Paul, God is not “served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things.” Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. Doesn’t the Bible call us God’s servants? Isn’t “serving God” a good thing? And of course the answer is yes – and no. Today, I just want to point out one aspect of the servant metaphor that we need to avoid.

You see Athenians were incredibly superstitious. In fact, that Greek word translated religious can also be translated superstitious. For instance, no one worshiped the God of war because of the intrinsic beauty and splendor of Ares. No, they worshiped Ares when they were on the verge of going to battle – they served that God in the hope that Ares would return the favor in the form of a military victory.

Here’s the point that Paul’s trying to make. Every so-called god makes us work for them, makes us serve them. The perfect example of this is the Enuma Elish, which is the Babylonian Creation Myth, written about the same time as the Book of Genesis. In the Enuma Elish, there’s a battle of the gods, which the god Marduk wins. And so Marduk – to celebrate – decides to slash open the belly of one of the defeated gods, and from that dead god’s belly comes the earth – if you’re a young Babylonian student, this is just science 101. Anyway, Marduk decides to allow the other gods to live on the earth and enjoy its recourses. The only problem is, keeping up the earth is hard work, and so what do the gods do? They create humans to do all the work they were too lazy to do. Now, that’s just one example, but it does capture the worldview of the pagan world, and a lot of people in our world – we were created to serve the gods. But not the Living God, Paul says. The Living God is different.

Has anyone ever told you that God has no hands but you and that if you don’t come through for Him then God’s in trouble? If that’s really the case we’re in trouble. Because we don’t come through, and aside from our anxiety and our sin and our fear, there is nothing we can give God that He doesn’t already have. There is big a difference between Jesus Christ and Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam won’t enlist you in his service unless you’re healthy. Jesus won’t enlist you unless you’re sick.

We were created to seek.

Which brings us to key point #3. If God didn’t put us here to serve him, then why are we here? We were created to seek God. We were created to love God. We were created to know God. As Paul puts it today, God created us to “search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him.” Now, I had to look up that word grope because, well, it just sounded creepy. The Greek word literally means to “reach out expectantly hoping to feel something.” I spent Friday night with my goddaughter, who isn’t even 18 months old, and each time I picked her up she started reaching, sometimes pretty forcefully, in an attempt to grab my nose. That’s the image Paul’s trying to give us. We are infants in the arms of God. We are his “offspring” – it is in God that we live and move and have our being – and God created us to reach out, day after day, to find him.

Richard Foster wrote a great book called Prayer and in that book this is what he says. “Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.” In other words, God wants to be wanted. God seeks to be sought. He longs for our presence. Augustine once said, “Our souls are restless O Lord until they rest in thee.” But, according to Foster and according to Paul, God also longs for us. His soul is restless until we rest in Him. We were created to seek him, for “we too are his offspring” – children created to reach out for God.

Now, what exactly seeking God looks like will differ for each one of us. We’re all different, and God deals with us differently. But I do know that at least three things are nonnegotiable – intentionality, scripture and community. Intentionality is obvious. No one drifts into a deep, sustainable relationship with God. Scripture – we can’t live the story if the story doesn’t live in us. And community – our faith may be personal but it definitely isn’t private. We need other Christians to help us find Christ.

To the extent that we find we will repent.

Now, to the extent that we do find – or to the extent that we’re found – we will repent, and that of course is key point number four. Now, the word repent – it does not mean to say we’re sorry or to feel bad for our mistakes. Both may be fine things to do, but it’s not what repentance is. The word repent literally means “to change our mind,” or “to turn.” Repentance is about changing our mind. It’s about changing our mind about the things we’ve bound or connected our hearts to and to acknowledge that they can’t give us whatever it is that they promise. It’s about changing our mind about the many ways we try and barter with God and to acknowledge the good news that we are not needed – just loved and celebrated and cherished, but not needed. It’s about turning away from a self-seeking life to a God-seeking life, and to acknowledge that God wants to be wanted, and seeks to be sought, and that God longs for our presence.

After all, Paul is clear – “God has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness.” But for the Christian, that great Day of Judgment is not something that will happen. It’s something that has happened – once and for all – on Golgotha Hill. To quote Karl Barth again, “the Judge was judged in our place.” For that cross is God’s great reminder that God himself is also extremely religious, for he has bound His heart to us and will stop at nothing to get us back.

The only way we can serve this God is to know – and I mean know – that the Living God lives to serve us. And so as we go out into the world seeking God, may we never forget that God is always seeking us. And finally, in light of all this, as we ponder what it means to repent – to turn to the Living God – may we be reminded that in Christ the Father has already repented – He’s already turned – towards us with arms open.

The Truth

2011-05-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN TO LIVE VERSION:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/truth.mp3

Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.”

I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Christopher’s. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. And I need apologize in advance if this sermon isn’t very good. I’m not sure if you’ve been following the news, but the world was supposed to end yesterday and so instead of writing a sermon I spent all of last week eating Mexican food. That being said and I guess I mean this in more way than one – I am really glad to be here. Thank you for having me.

On October 2, 2006 ten young girls were taken hostage in an Amish schoolhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. All ten were shot, five were killed and the gunman committed suicide. But as you may recall, that wasn’t the story – what most of us remember. What we all remember was the response of the Amish community, who expressed forgiveness toward the killer, took up a collection for the killer’s widow and her three young children, and even attended the killer’s funeral. As one author put it, “Several Amish families, who had buried their own daughters just the day before, were in attendance as they hugged the widow and … other members of the killer’s family.”

Here’s the question I’d like to wrestle with this morning – how? In the face of unspeakable tragedy, where did this Amish community get the heart to respond with such forgiveness, love and compassion? I mentioned that my primary focus is in Christian formation, which has to do with that process by which our hearts are formed into Jesus’s heart – which is a heart that forgives, that loves and that absorbs pain rather than returning it. But how do our hearts actually change? Or, perhaps another example, how do we become someone like Stephen who, as the rocks pummel his body, still managed to pray, “Lord, don’t hold this sin against them.” In a world where people hurt us and where we hurt people, how do we forgive? How do we love? How do we take the stones thrown at us rather than mindlessly just hurling them back? In other words, how do we acquire the heart of Jesus?

Here’s how the author of John’s Gospel would answer that question. We have to know the truth. Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.” To live this life with Jesus’s heart – which is a heart that forgives, that loves and that absorbs pain instead of just inflicting it back – we have to know the Truth.

Now, if you’re like me, you’re probably suspicious of people that claim to have the truth, and the consensus of our culture is that we should all be free to figure out for ourselves what is true. As the U.S. Supreme Court declared back in 1992, “the heart of liberty is the right to define one’s own concept of existence.” In other words, choose for yourself what is true – or the reason you exist – and you’ll be free. It’s that simple. Freedom, we think, is about choosing our own truth.

If it’s okay I’d like to meander for a bit, because it’s worth mentioning two philosophers in particular that were incredibly influential in shaping our culture’s view of truth – Nietzsche and Foucault – and this is what they said. “All truth claims are power plays. When people claim to have the truth, their real motive is to get power over others and control their behavior.” Now, perhaps you think I’m going to disagree and say what a bunch of hogwash but I’m not because on numerous occasions Jesus said the exact same thing. In particular, I’m thinking about the Pharisees. They were pretty obsessed with “God’s truth” and about who was in line and who wasn’t and time and time again Jesus had to tell the Pharisees that all they really cared about was controlling people and maintaining their power. I mean, why do you think they stoned Stephen? Because the truth Stephen preached was a threat to their power. And so Nietzsche was right. The people most outspoken about what’s true are often the most violent and coercive. I mean, let’s face it – Nietzsche, Foucault and Jesus Christ can all agree on something – it’s just got to be true! But – that doesn’t mean we can walk the way of relativism because in today’s Gospel Jesus is outspoken. “I am way. I am the life. I am the truth.”

You see, the greatest power play of all is to go around telling everyone that their idea of truth is a power play, and the problem with Nietzsche and Foucault is that they went around popping everyone else’s balloon but never popped their own because there’s something they failed to see – we all make truth claims – we all hold deep beliefs about who we are and the reason we exist – and so it can’t be the belief in truth itself that kill freedom. It’s what’s in the truth claim we’re making. To put it a bit differently, we’re all fundamentalists. The only question is this – what’s our fundamental? What fundamental – what truth – is at the center of our life?

Now, stay with me because I know what you’re all thinking – “what in the world does any of this have to do with the Amish?” I’m getting there. You see, what we hold as the deepest truth about this world and the reason we exist will always shape how we live (2X). And John actually begins his Gospel by giving us that reason. “In the beginning was the Word – or the logos in Greek – and the logos was God and the logos was with God and the logos became flesh and dwelt among us.” Now, that Greek word logos – it’s where we get the word logic and the word reason. In other words, John begins his Gospel by telling us that there is a reason we exist, a logic behind the universe, a Truth with a capital T that each one of us were made for, and that this absolute truth is not a philosophy or a principle or an abstraction or set of commandments or even a creed, but a Person – a Person that embodied the fullness of God Himself, a Person whose commitment to truth led not to someone else’s death but His own.

And so once again, how do we acquire the heart of Jesus? How do we live this life with Jesus’s heart – forgiving, loving, and absorbing the pain other’s inflict on us instead of inflicting it back? Here’s where I think the Amish can help. After all, what we hold as the deepest truth about this world and the reason we exist will always shape how we live. For the Amish, the deepest truth they held in their hearts was a story about a man that embodied the fullness of God and yet still chose to empty himself and die for his enemies rather than crushing them. The deepest truth they held in their hearts was that they could have confidence that those little girls’ lives would go on after death because Jesus was preparing a place for each one of them in His Father’s house. For the Amish, the deepest truth they held in their hearts was that their mission in life – what made them “successful or unsuccessful” people – had nothing to do with power or status or money but with how well their lives pointed the world to Jesus. That was the deepest truth they held in their hearts. What’s yours?

I’d like to share a quote from the late Henry Nouwen. “In our world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women who know the heart of God, a heart that forgives, that cares, that reaches out and wants to heal. In that heart there is no suspicion, no resentment and not a tinge of hatred. It is a heart that wants only to give love and receive love in response. It is a heart that suffers immensely because it sees the magnitude of human pain and the great resistance to trusting the heart of God who wants to offer consolation and hope.” (In the Name of Jesus, 24)

To be a Christian is to believe that that heart – God’s heart – is the deepest truth behind this universe, and that this same heart was made flesh in the person of Jesus Christ. It was on the part of God a powerless play. And in this world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women that know the heart of God. The Amish knew God’s heart. Stephen knew God’s heart. The question is, do we? Because I would submit that the heart of liberty is not to define our own concept of existence. The heart of liberty is to know the reason for our existence. In the beginning was the Reason – and the Reason was God and the Reason was with God and the Reason became flesh and dwelt among us – not to kill, but to be killed – full of grace and truth.

Good shepherd, good news

2011-05-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

To listen:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/goodnews.mp3

I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you tonight at St. Mark’s Between the Bayous. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. Thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.

There’s a question I’d like to reflect on tonight. What makes us valuable? In other words, why are we important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Well, I want to begin answering these questions by reading you the first paragraph of an article entitled, “450 Sheep Jump to their deaths in Turkey,” which the Associated Press ran back in 2005. In case you’re wondering, the article’s about how 450 sheep jumped to their death in Turkey. This is how it begins. “First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the cliff. In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a billowy white pile. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher and the fall more cushioned.”

In tonight’s Gospel when Jesus likens us to sheep – it’s not really a complement. You see most animals when released will either go wild or just find their way back home. But sheep are different. The truth is, they’re not very smart, and sheep have absolutely no sense of direction. That’s why a good shepherd doesn’t leave his sheep because if he does they jump off a cliff.

And so in the ancient near east – which was Jesus’ world – a sheep with no shepherd or a sheep with an incompetent shepherd was completely hopeless and vulnerable. And so to speak of Jesus as our shepherd – this isn’t really a sentimental image. But it is a powerful one. Perhaps you’ve heard the 23rd psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He revives my soul, and guides me along right paths.” What makes this psalm so powerful is that it speaks to the deepest desire of the human heart. I mean, isn’t that what we all yearn for – someone to take care of us that knows us better than we know ourselves and that wants to give us abundant life? A Shepherd who, in the midst of a world full of fear and anxiety and uncertainty and war and death and disease, longs to lead us to calm places so we feel safe and satisfied and at peace. I don’t know about you, but for me this image awakens something so deep within. Because I would submit that we’re all following someone; that each one of us is tuning in to someone’s voice – or to multiple voices, which are probably contradictory and scattered – to make sense of who we are and what gives us value. Tonight, I’d like to focus on Jesus’s voice, and to tune in to what he says about value.

That word value – it’s a word tied to worth and importance. In other words, to say that we’re valuable is to say that we’re important – that we’re “worth something,” which let’s face it, is something we all need to know. There’s no depression like the depression of thinking our life isn’t valuable, and even though I seriously doubt that’s where most of us are, that doesn’t mean we don’t ask the question, if only at the subconscious level. Why am I important? What makes me special? What gives me worth?

Ernest Becker won the Pulitzer Prize for his book The Denial of Death, which he begins by making the claim that a child’s need for self-worth “is the condition of his life.” And God knows we seek that worth from whoever we think can give it to us. I know I do. As Brene Brown puts it, we “steal worth.” We become the funny one or the attractive one or the athletic one or the rich one or the smart one or the successful one because if we’re not that then who are we?

Well, at the heart of the Christian Gospel is an answer to this question – this question of what makes us valuable. Remember, that word Gospel means good news, which is not the way we always feel about our relationship with God. Far too often we get stuck in that dead paradigm that says Jesus came to offer us good advice – advice on how to be good or to get in good with God – but Jesus did not turn the world upside down by offering good advice. No, His Kingdom revolution began when he went public with some very good news – good news that’s captured in part by something he says tonight. “I call my own sheep by name.” I’ll say that again. “I call my own sheep by name.”

What makes us important? What makes us special? What gives us worth? Here’s what I think tonight’s Gospel is getting at. What makes us valuable, what makes us important, what gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call. We matter not because we’re good but because God is; not because we’re lovely but because we’re loved; not because of what we do but because of what Jesus did on our behalf. “I lay down my life for my sheep.” What gives us a “name” has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Jesus’s call.

But hearing that call and re-learning how to live this life deeply centered in that call – that’s a different story. After all, there are so many wolves and hired hands and incompetent shepherds and thieves out there, and they’re all out to steal, kill and destroy our real sense of worth by offering us a false one. “Try harder. Follow the rules. Lose ten pounds. Be good. It’s a dog eat dog world. If you want someone to scratch your back then scratch someone else’s. Be funny. Be smart. Be pretty. Don’t be boring. Nothing in life is free. Obey your thirst. Just do it.” There’s a lot of bad advice out there, and Jesus doesn’t have time for any of it. When it comes to that question of what gives us worth Jesus refuses to offer advice. But he does offer us news. Good news. “I know my own. I call each sheep by name. I know my sheep. I love my sheep. I lay down my life for my sheep.”

I want to go back to that article and read you some quotes from the shepherds themselves. “There’s nothing we can do.” “They’re all wasted.” “It’s going to be hard for us.” You see what these quotes capture is how devastating the loss of these sheep was to the shepherds. Because like in Jesus’ world, these sheep weren’t pets. They were the shepherd’s life! You see a shepherd’s wealth, livelihood, and glory were bound up with the safety and care of his flock, and what tonight’s Gospel is trying to get at is simply this – that Jesus, the One for whom and the One through all things were created – feels this way about each one of us. There’s this great verse from Ephesians, where Paul prays that we’d know the riches of Jesus’ glorious inheritance among the saints. Most people, when they hear that verse, 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 text 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 Jesus sees us, that He calls us by name – because we are His inheritance. And to me that is so important, because before we can ever live for Jesus we have to know that Jesus lives for us. We are His wealth. We are His livelihood. We are His glory.

And so I’m not going to end this sermon by offering any advice. There’s far too much of that already, but I will give you some good news – news that perhaps you’ve never heard, or that you may just need to hear again. You are not your reputation. You are not what you feel. You are not your mistakes. You are not your achievements. You are not your portfolio. You are not your IQ. Your name – your worth – has nothing to do with that. Because you – you are Jesus’ inheritance. You are worth dying for. You are his wealth. You are his livelihood. You are his glory. The God of the universe knows your name. And because of that, you are far more precious than you could ever dare dream.

living water

2011-03-29T08:37:00.000-07:00

TO LISTEN ONLINE:

http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/living_water.mp3

“If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

In Philadelphia on the east bank of the Schuylkill (skoo-kel) River there’s a statue of a pilgrim with a Bible, and by that pilgrim is a stream that flows down a really steep hill into the River. And by the stream is a path that leads up the hill, and by hiking up the hill you find the stream’s source – a spring of water. And by that spring is a stone, and on that stone an inscription, which says this: “Whosoever drink of this water will surely thirst again.” Of course, this is a reference to tonight’s Gospel where Jesus Christ says, “Those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty again.”

We are spiritually thirsty people. We thirst for love, for acceptance, for purpose. We thirst to be at home – at home in this world, at home with ourselves, at home with God. It is our spiritual thirst, and the many ways we seek to satiate that thirst that Jesus addresses in tonight’s Gospel. “From what well,” Jesus asks us, “are you drinking?”

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Psalm 42:1. “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul thirsts for you, O God.” It reminds me of Augustine’s famous prayer, “Our souls are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.” You see Jesus knows how restless we are, because we’re always trying to satiate that deep spiritual thirst ourselves. The message of our world is clear. “Nothing in life is free. It’s a dog eat dog world. You only get what you give.” In other words, if you want to be loved then be lovable. If you want to be accepted then perform. If you want your life to have purpose then create it. Be funny or smart or successful or attractive or popular. Be the best in your field. Roll up your sleeves, hike up that hill and find the water yourself! That’s the world’s message, to which Jesus gently replies – “whosoever drink of that water will certainly be thirsty again.” But “the water that I will give them will become a gushing and eternal spring, and whoever drinks of My water – the Living Water – will never be thirsty again.”

Before we talk about the only thing that’s ever going to satisfy our deep spiritual thirst – the living water Jesus offers us – we need to acknowledge how conditioned we are to believe that the living water is something we merit – something we earn. It start’s early. “Good boy” our parents told us, when we did something good. Our teachers “graded” us – we were classified and ranked based on our intellect and performance. Our peers classified and ranked us based on how attractive we were or how funny we were or how athletic we were. As one author puts it, “When every person in every situation in every day of our lives treats us on the basis of how we look, act, and perform, it is difficult not to project that onto God.” And so regardless of what we say we believe about grace, it is so easy for our hearts to believe that God’s love, God’s acceptance, are tied to our moral performance. If only at a subconscious level, we assume the living water must be earned. Well tonight, Jesus shatters that assumption. “If you knew the gift,” Jesus says, “if you just knew the gift of God,” you’d never be thirsty again.

That’s what’s so amazing about the woman in tonight’s Gospel. According to the cultural and religious rules of the day, no one deserved God’s love less than she did. First, she’s a Samaritan – a group that melded Judaism with paganism. No Jew in Jesus’ day liked Samaritans – no Jew, that is, except for one. Second, she’s a woman and women in Jesus’ world had no status. No respectable rabbi would ever address a woman in public – no rabbi, that is, except for one. Third, she’s alone, coming to the well at the hottest part of the day when no one else is around. Back in the day women went to the well to draw water in groups. It was the place to see and be seen, and so why is she alone? Because she’s an outcast, a moral failure. She doesn’t want to see anyone and no one wants to see her – no one, that is, except for Jesus. This woman has done nothing to deserve God’s love – she knows it, the disciples know it, and Jesus knows it. “But if you knew the gift,” Jesus told her, “you’d see that the love of God has nothing to do with what we deserve.

CS Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues what made Christianity different from all the other religions of the world. Lewis responded with a single word. “Grace.” Christianity is about grace. It’s not about us hiking up some hill to find water. It’s about God hiking down to give water to us. You see the good news of the Gospel is not merely that God forgives us, although that is certainly true. The good news of the Christian Gospel is that in Christ God celebrates us; that He lives for us; that God thirsts for us. As Richard Foster puts it, “the heart of God is an open wound of love. He longs for our presence.” In other words, psalm 42 talks about how we thirst for God but the living water – what Jesus is talking about tonight – is that God thirsts for us. That is the living water! The gift! Our call – the whole point of our faith – is to know that gift; to drink of the truth of how deeply we’re loved so that we can share God’s gift with the world like this woman. Of course, the question is how – how do we know the gift of God? How do we taste the living water that only Jesus can give?

Well first, we need to be honest about the empty wells we keep drawing from. For this woman it was men. You see, when Jesus says, “Go and get your husband” he isn’t being mean. After all, Jesus likes this woman and he would never try and shame her. That just isn’t Jesus’ way. But what Jesus does do is ask her to look at where she keeps dropping the bucket of her soul – at where she’s seeking to satisfy the deepest longings of her heart, and for her it’s men. Jesus takes this woman to a very vulnerable place. Has he taken us yet – to that vulnerable place? Have we let him? Now just for a second, imagine yourself standing at that well in the presence of Jesus. And to everyone’s surprise, even your own, He likes you. He wants to talk. Jesus shows you his thirst. But then, he shifts gears and tries to show your own – your own spiritual thirst and the broken cisterns you keep drinking from to satiate that thirst. To the woman he said “go and get your husband.” What is Jesus saying to you? “Go and get your career. Go and get your family. Go and get your need to be liked, your need to be in control, your need to be appreciated. Go and get your obsession with appearance, knowledge, competence, notoriety, success, friends, pleasure, wealth, status. Go and get it and put it right next to me,” Jesus says, “because it can never give you what I can.” To taste the living water we first have to stop drinking from empty wells.

Now, that being said, there’s a second piece we need to look at, because the gift of God isn’t ultimately about our thirst at all – it’s about Jesus’ thirst. You see the only reason this woman had an encounter with Jesus that changed her life was because, practically speaking, Jesus was thirsty. I mean, that’s why Jesus stopped at the well and said “give me a drink” in the first place. But in the Gospel of John, which is loaded with symbols, everything has a double meaning. You see twice in the Gospel of John Jesus says that he’s thirsty. The first we heard read tonight. The second we’ll hear read on Good Friday, where Jesus cries out in agony from the cross, “I thirst.” And that thirst was the great thirst. For on the cross not only did Jesus experience that cosmic thirst we rightly deserve for our sins, but as he stretched out his arms on that cross, Jesus showed us just how deep God’s thirst for us goes.

The psalmist tells us that there “is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.” By those streams is a path, which leads up Golgotha hill. And if you hike up that hill you’ll find streams Source – the Son of God crucified thirsting for the world. God give us grace to know that gift and to ask Jesus to give us the living water, and to hear yet again the word of our Lord: “come to me all you that are weary and heavy burdened and I will refresh you.”

jesus' glory

2011-03-08T11:02:00.000-08:00

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Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’

I’d like to begin my sermon with a question. What makes our life significant? In other words, what gives it worth? Why do we matter? I have to say, this is a question our world is desperate to answer. There’s a famous song by the Righteous Brothers – “You’re My Soul and Inspiration” – and one line in particular captures what I’m talking about. “You’re all I’ve got to get me by; you’re my soul and my life’s inspiration; without you baby, what good am I?” How would you answer that question? Without blank, what good am I?

You see today’s Gospel raises that question because it’s about the glory of Jesus, which is a Biblical word that describes something of infinite worth and significance. “O God,” we prayed in our collect, “who before the passion of your Son revealed his glory upon the mountain.” The Transfiguration is about Jesus’ glory, about His infinite worth and significance. But not only that, it’s about Jesus wanting his disciples to know his significance and to know that their significance is tied to Him.

Now, you may be wondering – didn’t they already know? After all, Matthew begins by telling us this event took place “six days after Peter had acknowledged Jesus as the Christ.” In other words, Peter has already been tested on the doctrine of Christ, and Peter got an A! Intellectually speaking, Peter knows – he knows that Jesus is the Son of God. But, Peter doesn’t know. You see, we can know something intellectually without that knowledge taking hold of our heart. We “know” we should eat better, but until we have a heart attack or heart surgery that knowledge might not change our life. Today’s Gospel is about God giving Jesus’ disciples a little heart attack. According to Matthew, “they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.” In a way they hadn’t yet experienced, Peter, James and John felt Jesus’ weight. His significance. His glory. For the first time in their life they knew.

But didn’t they already know? Well, let me ask you this – do we? You see, what Peter tried to do is something we all do – put Jesus on a shelf. Peter’s up on this mountain, Jesus starts to glow and then suddenly Moses and Elijah show up! “Lord, this is great – you’re here, Moses is here, Elijah’s here – we’ve got the hall of fame! So I’ll build three booths and you can sit here right next to Moses.” And in response to Peter’s foolishness comes a Voice. “This is my Son! He won’t fit in a booth! He’s not another prophet seeking God; He’s the God the prophets have all been seeking. This is my Son – my weighty, significant, Son – take him off the shelf. Listen to him!”

I’m afraid that far too often we try and keep Jesus on a shelf, in a booth. We give him a spot – maybe a Sunday morning spot – and we put him right next to everything else in our life we think makes us significant – next to our career, our reputation, our family, our need to be liked, our need to be right, our need to be in control, our need to be comfortable, our need to be successful – we put him on a shelf. We balance our devotion to him with our devotion to other things. Like Peter, we’ve confessed Him to be the Christ. Intellectually speaking, we know He’s the Son of God, but that knowledge hasn’t fully taken hold of our hearts. For instance, why are we so hurt by criticism? We can we be so anxious and irritable? Why are we always trying to prove ourselves? Why are we so harsh and unsympathetic and critical? And the answer, which is a really hard thing to admit, is that the opinions of others are often more real to us than the opinion of God. It’s that our sense of worth is tied more to what we achieve and how we look and what people think than to what God says about us and what He’s done for us.

You see today’s Gospel doesn’t give us any new information about God. But don’t you see information is not what we need. What we need is to be up on that mountain, for Jesus’ grace to knock us to the ground. What we need is to know Jesus’ glory – to have who He is and what He’s done be more real, more weighty, and more significant than anything else in our life. And so with that being said – two questions I think we need to ask. Where does that happen and how does that happen?

First, where – where does Jesus’ love become more real to our hearts than all the anxiety and fear that we carry around? Well, Peter was not on that mountain alone. He was with James and John. Our relationship with Christ may be personal, but it definitely isn’t private. You see in a matter of moments we’re going to baptize Antonio and Alivia and Angel and Saya and Lily into the Body of Christ, and as far as I know, they didn’t have to take a test or prove themselves or demonstrate their competency before coming here. And yet, we’re going to mark them as Christ’s own forever. We’re going to tell them they’re significant – that they matter – not because of who they are, but because of Who God is; not because of what they do, but because of what God’s done; not because they’re good but because God is. And today isn’t for them only, it’s for us! Not only will we take a vow to do everything in our power to support them in their new life with Christ, but we’ll reaffirm our own baptismal vows, which our way of reminding ourselves that our primary calling as a church is to provide a definitive answer to that question – that question our world is desperate to answer. What makes our life significant? Why do we matter? Baptism is our answer to that question. We matter because Christ has freely chosen to claim us as his own.

Can you feel the weight of what’s about to happen, the significance of what we’re about to do? The word God spoke to Jesus on that mountain is the same word He speaks to us in baptism. This is my son! This is my daughter! You’re now a part of my family. In baptism, God makes that promise, and so where do we gather to know that promise? Right here, this community, we’re on that mountain now!

Of course, this raises another question – how? How does Jesus become more real to our hearts than all the idols on that shelf we’ve put him next to? The answer’s hidden in the last verse. We have to follow him down the mountain. Peter wanted to stay there, but not Jesus. Because what Jesus wanted more than anything was for his disciples to know – to know that their worth is tied to His; that their significance is found in Him.

Without blank, what good am I? What makes our life significant? The answer to that question – it has nothing to do with what happened to Jesus on top of a mountain, but what happened to him on a little hill – a tiny little hill outside of Jerusalem. You see on the mountain Jesus was revealed in glory, but on that hill he was revealed in shame. On the mountain his clothes were shining; but on that hill his clothes were stripped. On the mountain Jesus is with Moses and Elijah; but on that hill he’s with two criminals. On the mountain a bright cloud overshadowed him; but on that hill darkness covered the land. On the mountain Peter blurts out how great it all is; but on that hill Peter’s nowhere to be found. On the mountain the Father speaks a word of blessing – “This is my Son;” but on the hill the Father was silent.

In his letter to the Romans St. Paul asks a question. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” Do you not know? The reason the church exists – our only purpose – is to answer Paul’s question with a definitive yes. Our purpose is to know – not intellectually but in our hearts – that life has no significance apart from the cross of Jesus Christ, and that because of Jesus’ cross, all things have significance – that in spite of our failing and fears and fumbling, we matter tremendously.

Confess the faith of Christ crucified – let his cross be more real and more weighty and more significant than anything else in your life. Listen to what He says. “Don’t be afraid. Get up. I’ve claimed you as my own. Let’s go down the mountain – follow me to the hill and watch what happens there – because even though you believe what I want more than anything is for you to know.”

can a mother forget?

2011-03-08T11:01:00.000-08:00

Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing! For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones. But Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.’ Can a woman forget her nursing-child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.

I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at Holy Trinity, Dickinson. My name is John Newton, and I currently serve as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation. I am so honored to be with you this morning – thank you so much for having me – it is really great to be with you.

I’d like to begin this morning by acknowledging something that we all really know, but don’t like to admit. Faith is hard. Staking our lives on the faithfulness of God is really, really hard. You see, there’s an enemy – an enemy that lurks like a lion and is always on the prowl. And that enemy isn’t science. Or consumerism. Or the media. Or “the culture.” No, the greatest threat to our faith is despondency. Despondency is what happens when the brokenness of life breaks us – it’s what happens when we lose hope. And knowing that faith is hard, and that it’s often threatened by this lurking enemy of hopelessness, we need to address this question: When we feel despondent, what assurance do we have that God loves us, that He’s with us, that – as Revelation puts it – He’s at work “making all things new?” What is our assurance as Christians?

You see this is the question the people of Israel are asking in today’s reading from the Book of Isaiah, and in the first five verses, it’s God that does all the talking. He’s responding to the people’s fear and to their real sense of loss that comes with being exiled. You see Israel’s temple had just been destroyed and that temple was their assurance – their assurance that God loved them, that God was with them, and that God would never forsake them. And when the Babylonians demolished their temple, they demolished their assurance. So in the first five verses, God tries to comfort them. “The prisoners,” He says, “are going to be set free one day. The people in darkness will come into the light. My kingdom will be established and people from all over the world will flock to be a part of it.” And in verse 13 God really takes it up a notch. “What I’m about to do,” God says, “is so amazing – so amazing – that even the mountains will break forth into song!” But the people of Israel are too despondent to care and they interrupt God. “The Lord has forsaken me,” they say, “My Lord has forgotten me!” But here’s what they’re really saying. “You say you love us, that everything’s going to work out fine. But we feel forgotten, and for all we know it’s just a bunch of talk. How can we be so sure?”

Now, before we look at God’s response we need to pause. At some point in our life we’ve felt like this. We’ve all had those moments – and if we haven’t yet we will – when the brokenness of life threatens to break us. We get divorced. The prognosis is bad. Someone we love dies. We get depressed. We lose our job. We lose our hair. We lose our confidence. We see the failings within and the pain without. We turn on the news – nothing but war, earthquakes and crooked politicians. We all have those moments, and it’s those moments that make faith hard! Yes, we know the promises of God, but we want assurance! “God says He loves us – that everything’s going to work out fine. But we feel forgotten, and for all we know it’s just a bunch of talk. How can we be so sure?”

Well, God begins answering our question by asking one of His own. “Can a woman forget her nursing child?” Now, this won’t shock anyone but I don’t know a whole lot about nursing a child. But what I do know is that no image more tender can be found. You see in all human relationships a certain level of give and take is required – a friendship, a marriage, a business partner – both parties have to give and take. That’s just how our relationships work, they’re conditional – that is, of course, except for one; the relationship of a nursing mother to her child. This relationship is unconditional – the mother gives everything! But not only that, it’s a relationship where the mother’s physical and emotional comfort is tied to her ability to nurse. Now, I did some research, and I now know about prolactins. When a mother nurses her child, her body releases chemicals that fill her with an overwhelming sense of delight and contentment, and if a mother should forget, or stop nursing, her own body’s going to start to hurt. In other words, both emotionally speaking and physically speaking – it is impossible for a nursing mother to forget her child. What God wants Israel to know – and what God wants us to know – is that His love for us is like that – unconditional. It’s a relationship where God gives everything, where God feels an overwhelming sense of delight and contentment when He can feed us, and where God feels incredible pain when He can’t. As a 17th century Puritan by the name of Matthew Henry put it, “God’s compassions to his people infinitely exceed those of the tenderest parents towards their children.”

Now, I’m not sure if you noticed or not but I still haven’t answered the question. As moving as this image is, at the end of the day, it’s still just an image – more talk – and our God is a God of action. Well, in the final verse, what God says is astounding – “I’ve inscribed you on the palms of my hands.” Now, in Isaiah’s day a master would sometimes tattoo his own name of the palms of his servant but never would a master tattoo the name of his servant on his own palms. For one, it would be beneath him, a master would never lower himself in the sight of his servant like that. But second, it would hurt. The English may say inscribe but the Hebrew says engrave. In Hebrew the word literally means to “cut into something with a hammer or a chisel.” Imagine a spike being methodically driven into someone’s hands. Now, think about this. Engraving someone’s name on your palms isn’t just painful, it’s permanent. Laser scar removal technology wasn’t around in Isaiah’s day. If you engraved someone’s name on your palms, that name would be there forever.

Well, centuries after Isaiah was written there was this guy named Thomas, and Thomas was despondent. Thomas had lost his best friend and he had lost his hope. “My Lord has forsaken me,” he said, “My God has forgotten me.” Of course, Thomas’ friends were all saying “he is risen, he is risen, he is risen!” but Thomas was too despondent to care. He felt forgotten, and for all he knew it was just a bunch of talk – how could he be so sure? Well, Jesus appeared to Thomas and what Jesus did next was so significant. He showed him his palms – palms that have been cut into with a hammer and a chisel, palms that recently had been driven into with spikes, palms that had been engraved. “Thomas!” he said, “Here is your assurance. I will never leave you or forsake you. Your name is engraved on my palms.”

What makes Christianity unique isn’t our belief that in the face of human despondency God speaks a grace-filled word – it’s our belief that in the person of Jesus Christ, that Word became flesh, was nailed to a cross, and embraced all the world’s despondency both with us and for us. Our God is not a God of talk! He’s a God of action. Yes, we’re going to have those moments – those moments that threaten to break us. But, our assurance lies in the knowledge that on the cross our Master was broken for us, and that He was broken in a way that allows us to be made new.

“Faith,” says the author of Hebrews “is the assurance of things hoped for.” What, exactly, is that nature of that assurance? It’s that our names are permanently engraved on the palms of God; it’s that it would be more likely for a nursing mother to forget her child than for God to forget about us; it’s that on the cross God gave everything! Let the heavens sing, and the mountains break forth into song. For the Lord has comforted his people.

choose life

2011-03-08T09:52:00.000-08:00

Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?’ No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them, I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

I want to begin by introducing myself and saying what a pleasure it is to be with you this morning at St. Mark’s, Rosenberg. My name is John Newton, and I just began working as the Bishop’s Canon for Lifelong Christian Formation, which means that I have the privilege of thinking and praying about how all of God’s people can be formed into the image of Jesus Christ. That is, after all, what faith should so – form us into people filled with Jesus’ love, mercy, and compassion – into people filled with His life. Formation is about life. The Bible is about life. Salvation is about eternal life. In today’s reading from Deuteronomy Moses pleads with the Israelites: “choose life.” Even Jesus describes his mission by saying, “I’ve come that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” This plea in Deuteronomy to “choose life” brings to mind a couple of questions I want to wrestle with this morning: Is embracing the life that God offers us hard or is it easy? Is God’s bar of salvation high or is it low?

Now, people in Moses’ day thought that finding a new life was hard. There was a myth that everybody would have known about at this time – an ancient myth in every culture about an epic story of humans seeking life from the gods. The myth went something like this: Only the gods hold the key to life, but the gods are hard to find. They lived up in heaven or beyond the sea and trying to find these gods was incredibly dangerous. But across these myths, in every culture, a daring hero built a tower to the sky or crossed a great sea to wrestle life from the gods. The real story behind these myths, the logic that drove them, was that something as precious as eternal life had to be earned. Sure, one could find eternal life but first he had to prove himself worthy. This is the myth that everyone believed in Moses’ day: finding life was hard and only the worthy could attain it.

Now, the Israelites knew about this myth, and they may have started to believe this myth, especially after forty years of wandering in the desert, which is the background of our reading from Deuteronomy. They would have known, for example, the story of Gilgamesh, who courageously crossed the sea to bring back the secret of eternal life from the gods. And so I imagine they started to wonder – “Moses is great, but it’s been forty years, we may need someone like Gilgamesh to go to heaven to get life for us.” So, Moses corrects them, “Look – the life that God offers isn’t that hard and it’s not that far away. It’s not in heaven,” he says, “You don’t have to scale a wall to get it. It’s not across the ocean,” he says, “You don’t need to cross the sea. The life God offers is very near. And so choose life.” But I’m not sure the Israelites got it because what Moses was saying was so easy it was hard.

Now, there’s a story from II Kings that illustrates this perfectly – the story of Naaman, a Syrian general diagnosed with a terminal case of leprosy. Naaman is desperate, and so when he gets word that the God of Israel can heal, he sets out on an epic, Gilgamesh like quest, which leads him to the house of Elisha. Well, Elisha doesn’t even answer the door – his intern does, and here’s a paraphrase of what the intern says. “Go wash in the Jordan seven times and you’ll be healed, it’s just that easy.” Well, Naaman gets furious – absolutely furious – and this is what his servants tell him. “If you had been asked to do something difficult, you would have done it. So why not do something so easy?” You see, what’s difficult for Naaman is the simplicity of what’s being asked because Naaman, in his own eyes, is a great man, and he came ready to prove it. You see Naaman thinks he’s on one of those epic quests seeking life from the God of Israel, and Naaman came ready to earn that life – to climb to heaven to get it, to cross the sea to find it. But what Elisha tells him to do is something a child could do. Wash in the Jordan? What God, he wonders, has a bar of salvation so low? The life God offered Naaman was so easy it was hard.

You see what makes faith hard isn’t the law but grace – the bar of salvation is so low, it is so low, that in order to crawl under it we have to drop everything, which is what Naaman couldn’t do. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “grace is free, but it certainly isn’t cheap.” And just so there’s no confusion, God has always related to His people on the basis of grace – grace isn’t a New Testament innovation, it’s how God has always worked. And so this morning Moses isn’t saying that if you keep the Law you’ll have life. After all, God didn’t give Israel the law and then save them. No, first God saved them, He bound Himself to Israel and made an irrevocable promise, and only then did he give them a blueprint on how to live. God has always related to His people on the basis of grace, the life He gives has always been a gift, but there is something about God’s terms that threaten us. After all, God didn’t save Israel because they were worthy. No, God chose Israel because by all human standards they were the least worthy.

God doesn’t give us life because we’re worthy – that’s the ancient myth. God gives us life because He’s good, because we’re not worthy; because apart from Him we have absolutely no worth. And that may sound simple, but admitting it and living it – that’s hard, because salvation by grace is a deathblow to our ego. It shatters the illusion that we’re in control of our life, or that God owes us anything, or that we have any kind of claim on God at all. To put it differently, if everything is a gift – if apart from God we really have no value – then is there anything He can’t ask of us?

Now, I want to tell you why all of this is relevant. The ancient Israelites were tempted to buy into a myth that said life had to be earned or achieved or that life was rewarded only to heroic people at the end of some epic quest. This myth is still alive and far too often our hearts buy into it. You see, we may say that God loves us and that in Christ He delights is us, but then we go and make our life about some other quest – some quest to find meaning outside of God. In the words of Moses, “we bow down to other gods and serve them” – the gods of money and success and approval and sex; a million different gods we think will give us life. I’m sure you’ve seen the first Rocky movie. It’s the night before the big fight and Adrianne doesn’t want him to go through with it, but this is what Rocky tells her. “I’m a nobody. I really don’t care if this guy splits open my head ‘cause all I want to do is go the distance. Nobody’s ever gone the distance with Creed, and if I can go that distance, I’m going to know for the first time in my life I’m not just another bum.” Going the distance with Creed, that was Rocky’s quest, where he thought he’d find life. What’s yours?

You see whether embracing the life that God offers us is hard or easy – well, that all depends on how we answer the question, whose quest is it? It is ours? Is life, meaning, value, salvation, forgiveness something we have to achieve? Is it our courage and our effort and our performance that matter? Is our life ultimately about our quest to know we’re not a bum? Or, is our life found in Jesus’ quest for us? You see, that’s the difference between that ancient myth we’ve been talking about and the Gospel. The myth says we’ve got to climb up to heaven. The Gospel says Jesus climbed down. The myth says we’ve got to get life from the gods. The Gospel says God wants to give life to us. The myth is about us going the distance. The Gospel is about Jesus Christ going the distance – all the way to a cross – to do for us what we could not do for ourselves. Which one of these two very different stories are we living?

The last verse of our reading from Deuteronomy says “love the Lord your God for that means to you life,” but after doing some research it’s become clear we have a pretty poor translation. This is how America’s leading Hebrew scholar, and just about every other Bible, translates this last verse. “Love the Lord your God, heed his voice, cling to him, for He is your life.” Jesus said, “I came that they might have life.” “I am the way, the truth and the life.” Jesus is here. He wants to form us into people filled with his love, mercy, and compassion – into people filled with His life. The hardest thing about embracing that life is how easy it actually is. Jesus’ bar of salvation is so low we have to drop everything and cling to Him alone to crawl under it.

becoming a priest

2010-12-21T15:08:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday I had the privilege of preaching at Jimmy Abbott’s ordination to the priesthood. Here were my thoughts …

“For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of Him who sent me.”

I just want to begin by thanking Jimmy for the honor of standing before you today. Jimmy, I am so grateful for the privilege of preaching the Gospel at your ordination to the priesthood. Thank you.

For those who don’t know me my name is John Newton and I serve as the Missioner of the Episcopal Student Center at the University of Texas, which is where Jimmy and I met about seven years ago. The Student Center is also the community where both of us heard God’s call to the priesthood, and so it’s a really special place for both of us. My relationship with Jimmy always seems to be in transition. In the last seven years I’ve been Jimmy’s classmate, his program coordinator, his classmate again, his flag football coach, his sponsoring priest, and most recently, because God’s funny, his premarital counselor – but throughout it all Jimmy’s always been a great friend, and today, I’m proud to say, he’ll be my colleague. Jimmy, you’re about to be ordained a priest in Christ’s church. We have to ask – what are you getting into? But seriously – what does it mean to be a priest? And a second question, which can’t ever be separated from the first – what does it mean to be the church?

A lot of people answer the priest question differently. When I was ordained one of my best friends gave me a huge hug and said, with all sincerity, “John, congratulations. You have no idea how blessed you are. I just don’t know anyone else,” he said, “who else gets paid full time to work two hour weeks.” I guess that’s one take on the priesthood, but perhaps we can find another.

Tonight, I want to reflect on the last verse of tonight’s Gospel from John: “for I have come down from heaven,” Jesus says, “not to do my own will, but the will of Him who sent me.” In this verse we discover what it means to be a priest and what it means to be the church. “I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of Him who sent me.”

First – Jesus says, “I have come down from heaven.” As Christians this is where our faith begins – with Jesus “coming down,” with God Himself freely choosing to enter our lives. The incarnation – it’s where our faith begins, where the priesthood begins, where the church begins.

Jimmy, tonight you’re being ordained to model for the people of God a life of “coming down” – to joyfully do for God’s people what Jesus Christ has done for us. God freely chose to enter our world. The privilege of a priest is to do the exact same thing – to choose to enter the lives of God’s people and to love them with the same spirit that Christ loves us. In other words, the priest’s privilege is to model the incarnation. Eugene Peterson wrote that the priest’s call is, and I quote, to “take people seriously just the way they are and look at them, enter into conversation with them and see the glory that takes place right there, in that person’s world, the glory of God present in them.” In other words, the priest’s call is to reflect Jesus back to God’s people – that is to love people, not because they’re lovely but in order to make them lovely. A priest can’t be distant or aloof or detached. After all, God wasn’t. Jimmy, you’re being ordained to enter the lives of God’s people and love them, not because they’re lovely, but in order to make them lovely.

Now, practically speaking – what does it mean to model the incarnation; that is to enter people’s lives and love them to make them lovely? Well, it doesn’t mean a life of spiritual hospice work. A priest’s job is not to take away people’s pain, which we’re always tempted to do. The work of a priest is much harder. It’s about entering people’s lives to empower them for mission. It’s not to shield them from the world but to equip them to become missionaries within the world. In the words of Henry Nouwen, “The spiritual life doesn’t remove us from the world but leads us deeper into it.” So Jimmy, you do well to remember that we priests are not the primary ministers of the church, but it’s the people God entrusts to us – the people whose lives we’re invited to enter – they, more than us, are the primary ministers sent into the world to spread the Gospel. Love your people in a way that empowers them for their mission. After all, the church isn’t a building. It’s not a club. It’s not a social gathering of like-minded individuals. In fact, the word church comes from the Greek ekklesia, which literally means “called out.” To be the church is to be “called out” into the world with a mission. Jesus had a mission, which began with His choice to come down from heaven. We too must come down – from what’s comfortable and what’s familiar – and build God’s Kingdom in the world. In other words, the church has the privilege of telling people that life is found in Jesus – people that don’t know or don’t care or don’t believe; people that are angry and hurt and scared; people that need grace – and then to embody Jesus’ mercy and love and compassion, so that our message is credible and our presence worth following.

You see, a non-missional church isn’t a church at all. Mission – its just in our DNA.
The church’s privilege is to be in the world, in people’s lives, for the sake of sharing the Gospel, which means that the privilege of a priest is to model for God’s people what this incarnational, reaching-out-kind-of-love looks like. In today’s epistle Paul is bold. He tells the Philippians, “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me.” Jimmy, I know this is scary, but a priest’s job is to be able to say the exact same thing. Reach out to God’s people in a way that empowers them to reach out to others. Jesus reached out to you – He came down from heaven. Come down for your people, and I promise, they’ll come down from their place of comfort and serve the world in Christ’s name.

That being said, it’s not enough to just enter people’s lives. After all, the incarnation alone is not good news. There’s an ancient Greek myth about Zeus and Hermes, who wanted to know just how committed people were to the gods. So, as the story goes, they came down to earth disguised as slaves, but after getting the info they needed, threw off their rags and revealed themselves in all their Olympian glory. Did Zeus and Hermes take the form of a slave? Sure, but it was only a disguise. The Gospel is different – the Gospel says that when God became human in the person of Jesus, he didn’t disguise who God is. He revealed who God is – the Most Humble Person in the entire universe. For the Gospel is not merely that God entered our world – it’s that He entered with a certain character; that He entered with a certain mission. “Not to do my own will,” Jesus says, “but the will of Him who sent me.” Jimmy, we’re not ordained priests to do our own will. We’re ordained to do the will of God, who by the way, just happens to be the Most Humble Person in the entire universe.

So what does that look like – submitting to the will of the Most Humble Person in the universe? Well, in the context of John’s Gospel the people have just tried to make Jesus their King, but Jesus refuses. The people want Jesus to take power. But Jesus – he refuses to seize power – for His Father’s will wasn’t for Him to take power but to lose it.

You see all that stuff I was saying about reaching out and loving people – you know, entering people’s world not because they’re lovely but to make them lovely – that’s hard and vulnerable work, and we’ll find very quickly that if we do it well we’ll get hurt. In Jesus’ own words, “only those willing to lose their life are going to save it.” Jimmy, the will of the One who sends you is to find your life in the ministry by losing it – to love people so deeply and so fully that you allow your heart to be broken. “I have come not to do my own will,” Jesus said, “but the will of Him who sent me.”

You see there’s just something within us that craves the very power that Jesus refused. Jesus asks us, “Do you love me?” We ask him, “Can I sit at your right hand in your kingdom?” In fact, perhaps the greatest tragedy of Christian history is how often our leaders gave in to their craving for power – political power, military power, economic power, spiritual power – all in name of Jesus, who didn’t cling to His divine power but came down from heaven to do His Father’s will. So we need to be honest – power is a lot easier than love. It’s easier to be God than to love God; to control people than to love them; to seek a throne than embrace a cross. Jimmy, the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life. Why? Because it’s the road of choosing love over power. It’s the road of saying, day in and day out, “I came not to do my own will, but the will of Him who sent me.”

To be a priest, to be the church, is to live a life of humility, which isn’t a life of self-depreciation or of feeling unworthy or of being a doormat – but a life of saying what John the Baptist did with respect to Jesus: “He must increase but I must decrease.” You see Jesus decreased himself until nothing but His Father’s will mattered. Our life, our effectiveness, our joy, our salvation, our ability to be a good priest, our ability to be the church, is found in decreasing ourselves just like Jesus did – in decreasing our own story until nothing matters but Jesus’ story. To quote Paul “we have died, and our life is hidden with Christ in God.” Humility happens when the smallness of our own story gets lost in the largeness of Jesus’ story. Our life cannot define Him. Jesus’ life must always define us.

A couple weeks ago a friend handed me a note, which I wrote ten years ago – my senior of high school – to my “future self” in response to this question: What do you want your life to look like in ten years? I missed my ten-year reunion, but a friend was kind enough to grab it for me, and I’d like to share what I wrote. “I’ll be somewhere in Texas practicing law with a beautiful wife, a nice house, a young family, lots of money and my whole life ahead of me … or at least I better be.” Jimmy – I don’t know how you would have answered that question, but I imagine this wasn’t your plan – standing before the church, the bishop and God and taking a vow to serve Christ faithfully as His priest. But at the same time, I also know you wouldn’t be here right now unless you were called – unless God interrupted your life to say “get behind me,” and I know how grateful you are that God did.

Standing here today talking about what you’re getting into, I need to be honest: Jimmy, today doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Christ, because they all do. Your life is found in Jesus. He must increase; you must decrease. Allow yourself to fall so deeply in love with Him that you don’t think twice about following Jesus wherever he leads. Your best days as a priest will be the ones when you think of yourself the least – when its Jesus’ story that defines your life, when you come down like He did and have the faith to choose love over power.

I’m going to ask you to stand.

Jimmy, congratulations. You have no idea how blessed you are. I just don’t know anyone else who gets paid full time to lose their lives in the only story that matters, and to empower God’s people to embody the Gospel story in the world. So really quickly, before you’re ordained, turn around and take one last look at the people of God. Jimmy – love them, not because they’re lovely, but to make them lovely, for you are called – not to do your own will but the will of the One who sends you.

expecting to be offended

2010-12-13T19:33:00.002-08:00

To listen to this teaching online please copy/paste the following link:
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When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."

A man dies and, before being allowed to enter heaven, has to walk down a hallway past holding rooms filled with people not quite ready for heaven. Approaching the Pearly Gates the man notices the first holding room on his left. “St. Peter,” he asks, “who are they?” “Well, these were not good Baptists, and as you may expect, they were known to dance.” The man kept walking and noticed another room. “And who are they?” “These misfits belonged to the Church of Christ, and as you may expect they used instruments during worship.” Well, the man was intrigued and decided to stop at one last room. “These people look miserable,” he said, “Who are they and what on earth did they do?” St. Peter just shook his head. “These were not good Episcopalians,” he sighed, “They ate their salad with a dessert fork.”

I guess that’s an Advent joke because Advent is about expectation, which is what today’s Gospel is about as well. You see something about today’s Gospel forces us to ask – when it comes to Jesus and the salvation He brings what do we expect? Jesus once asked James and John, “what do you want me to do for you?” In other words, what’s your expectation here? You see we all have expectations that impact our experience of God, whether for good or for ill. Baptists – we expect no dancing. Church of Christ – we expect no music. Episcopalians – we expect good table manners. We’re wired to expect. We expect certain things from certain people, and when things turn out differently than we expect, we’re sometimes offended. Well, that’s kind of what’s happening in today’s Gospel. John the Baptist is disappointed because Jesus isn’t what he expects. “Are you the one who is to come,” he asks, “or should we wait for another?” But can you hear what’s behind John’s question? “Jesus – this isn’t what I expected.”

Jesus did not meet John’s expectations. You see John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin, was Jesus’ biggest backer, at least at first. In fact, a lot of Jesus’ disciples used to follow John, who at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel is the sensation of the nation. Before the crowds came to Jesus they all came to John, but now John’s in prison. He feels irrelevant and forgotten, and because He believes Jesus is the Messiah He expects Jesus to fix it. “How much longer must I wait?” He’s starting to wonder. “Hey Jesus – you going to fix this, or should I wait for someone else?”

We don’t typically think of John the Baptist as a sentimental guy, but He is. Like most Jews of Jesus’ day He expected a Messiah different from Jesus – someone to bring back the glory days when David was king, the pagans were punished, and the law of God was kept. That was John’s view – John’s expectation – of salvation. In other words, John had a very narrow script he thought the Messiah should live into and Jesus refused to adapt. Was Jesus’ fame growing? Yes. But not for what John had expected. Not only was Jesus befriending the people John expected him to punish, but even worse, Jesus’ focus seemed to be a cross and he kept saying things about desiring sacrifice and how to lose your life with him and for him. A cross – that seemed to be Jesus’ focus – and when John hears about that he gets offended. So, he sends his disciples to Jesus with a question – are you the Messiah or not? John found Jesus offensive. In fact, the Greek word used is skandalidzo, which is where we get the word scandal. When John first heard the message of the cross he was scandalized.

Now, what about us? You see Advent is the church’s way of inviting us to come to terms with our expectations – who do we expect Jesus to be? What do we want Jesus to do for us? Are we bringing Jesus a prewritten script and asking Him to adapt to us? Or, do we see that Jesus has a script of His own and that our life is found in adapting to Him?

You see John the Baptist, he just did what all of us do. John had a very specific view of what salvation looked like – which for John was a restored kingdom with all the riffraff thrown out – and John expected Jesus to adapt to his own narrow agenda. And when Jesus didn’t do what John expected him to do, well, he got confused. Once again, John just did what we’re all prone to do – he told Jesus how to do his job. John brought a very narrow script to Jesus and said, “Here, this is what needs to happen for me to feel whole. Jesus, here – this is what I expect. Would you mind adapting to me?”

Now, I know we all have strong opinions as to what we need to be whole, to be complete, to feel saved. “Lord, give me that job. Give me that girl. Give me confidence. Give me peace. Give me warm weather. Give me so and so’s respect. Lord, give me this. Lord, get me that, because then I’ll be okay. God I promise – give me this and I’ll be okay!” And how does Jesus respond? In a way that is so loving, and so offensive. “Whoever doesn’t take up the cross and follow me,” He says, “isn’t worthy of me. Those who find their life – who write their own script and ask me to adapt – will lose it. But those who lose their life with me and for me, they” he says, “will find it.” Is that something we expect to hear from Jesus Christ when we wake up each morning – lessons in losing? If not, perhaps we need to ask – when it comes to Jesus and the salvation He brings, what do we expect?

So, here’s the question – if we making loving Jesus the central aim of our life, what should we expect? What I get from today’s Gospel is this – we should expect an encounter with the real Jesus to offend us. Not all the time, but sometimes. You see from time to time for Jesus to love us He has to take our script, wad it up and tell us to get behind him. He has to remind us that Christianity is about losing our lives. And as the sentimentality of our culture reaches its peak, this is something we do well to remember. Yes, I know – it’s the most wonderful time of the year. There’s eggnog and mistletoe and candy canes and lights. But Advent is about preparing ourselves for a gift – for the gift of Jesus himself. And if we think of Jesus’ birth and feel nothing but warmth and jolly good cheer, well, maybe its time we wrestle, yet again, with the scandal of the cross – because the cross, before its ever anything else, is offensive.

You see some gifts just can’t be appreciated until we first understand they’re offensive. For example, if you give me a book for Christmas and tell me it’s going to change my life, but the title happens to be, How to Overcome Your Problem of Social Awkwardness – well, before I ever appreciate your gift, I’ll first feel offended. Why? Because your gift will expose a very embarrassing need. Some gifts just can’t be appreciated until we first understand they’re offensive, and the cross of Christ is one of them. The birth of Jesus is one of them, because before Christ reveals anything meaningful to us about God’s love, He first exposes the depth of our need and tragedy of our sin. So in this season of Advent, don’t get swept away by music and mistletoe and mistake the fuzziness of what you feel for the fullness of God’s love. The love of God, before it’s anything else, is offensive. Why? Because the love of God is revealed most fully in the scandal of the cross. Do you understand now why Jesus has to say, “Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” It’s because Jesus knows that when we understand His mission, offense is the first thing we feel.

And so as you go out into the world this week here’s what I’d suggest. Throw away your script, because the question John asks Jesus is the same one we’re all asking – “are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait?” And the answer is both. Jesus Christ has already come. He’s brought salvation. Everything, already, has changed! And we should expect – here and now – to be living in the already available grace that floods this world. And yet, let’s not forget, we still have to wait – for all the blind don’t yet see, and all the lepers aren’t yet cleansed, and all our chains are not yet broken. And we should expect to feel the pain that comes with waiting to be let out of prison. If we want to be faithful, we have to throw away our script, because Jesus’ is so much better. Yes, at times we’ll feel like John – a little unsure exactly what Jesus has in store. But Advent – it’s also a season of hope. “Eye hasn’t seen nor ear heard.” Whatever Jesus is up to – it’s so much more than we could ever possibly expect.

The King No One Expected

2010-11-21T19:15:00.000-08:00

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When people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up I’d usually say “a king” – well, sometimes I said wizard, but mostly I said “king.” I always took that whole “you can do whatever you want in life” thing a little too seriously. But I wanted to be a king. I loved the idea of being in charge, and in junior high I got my chance. I was alone with my younger brother for a few hours after school each day. Naturally, there was a list of chores to be done, and because I was in charge, the division of labor was quite simple. My brother would do the work and I would supervise. And I was a harsh taskmaster. I would bark orders, enforce penalties, and rule with an iron fist. I thought the arrangement worked well but my brother complained, a sitter was hired, and I was dethroned. I thought I knew what it took to be king, but apparently, I didn’t really understand.

Here’s the question I want us to wrestle with tonight. Do we know what it means to be a king? Is there a “true” king of our world? If there is, do we know His character? And just so you know where I’m coming from tonight is “Christ the King Sunday,” which happens once a year in the Episcopal Church. Jesus’ kingship – that’s what we’re supposed to contemplate and celebrate tonight. But the questions we’re asking are the very same ones that people in Biblical times asked themselves – Who’s the King of our world? What’s he like? Do we understand his character?

The people in tonight’s Gospel sure don’t, because tonight we see the King of the world nailed to a cross – he’s mocked, taunted, and shamed. Now remember, in our Gospel story tonight, it’s only been a week since Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem where he was met with shouts of joy and great expectation. Why? – Because people believed that in Jesus their long awaited King had finally arrived. Not sure if you remember that story, but people spread their cloaks on the road to honor Jesus as he passed by. They shouted at the top of their lungs, “Hosanna! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!” But tonight – just one week later – the shouts have shifted. It’s not “hosanna, hosanna.” Its “crucify him, crucify him.” Apparently Jesus wasn’t the King they were expecting.

But why not? After all, they were expecting a Messiah – so why didn’t Jesus fit the Messiah mold? Well, we have to remember that the Jewish people had been under foreign oppression for centuries. Since 586 BC the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Persians, and the Greeks had all ruled over them, and now it was the Romans, and it seemed wrong to the Jews of Jesus’ day that a pagan nation would govern them. So they prayed for a king. They wanted a king. They expected a king. And because of that they fantasized – they fantasized about what sort of king God would send them.

One group, the Zealots, thought the Jewish people had become cowards. So they waited for a military king to lead a rebellion against Rome. The Essenes had a different solution – to establish a new society out in the desert, which is where they waited for their king. And then of course Pharisees, who liked to blame sinners and tax collectors and prostitutes for all their problems. “Yes God will send a King,” they’d say, “but first we have to become more pure. So as the Jews prayed, wished, and waited for a king, they all misunderstood what sort of king God would send. For 1st century Jews whose hearts were set upon an earthly king, the story did not end well. Military rebellions were crushed, people were killed, and in 70 AD the Jewish temple was destroyed and when that happened all hope for a king was lost.

The scandal of the Christian Gospel is that somewhere in the midst of that mess – when no one was looking and when the masses were blind to the truth – the true King of Creation entered our world. To paraphrase CS Lewis, the Author of the play stepped onto the stage, the Writer of the novel became the Chief Character. Of course no one recognized him. To quote the Gospel of John, “He came to what was His own but His own did not receive Him.” After all, people expected all kinds of kings but not one – not one person thought, “Maybe a young carpenter will emerge from an insignificant corner of the Roman Empire to announce that through Him the Kingdom of God was now here.” Of course no one expected that! And isn’t this the irony of Christianity? That in a world where all hope for a king was lost the true King of the world had come and that, aside from a few misfits and peasants, not one person even noticed.

The reason the church makes us celebrate Christ the King Sunday every year is to force us to ask, “have we noticed?” Do we know the true king of our world? Do we know what he’s like? Do we understand His character? Because it’s really easy to confess Christ as King on the one hand, but to live on this earth as if we were our own king anyway. I mean, isn’t that where you and I find ourselves today – trying to sit in the driver’s seat of our own life? Perhaps you remember this part of Eucharistic Prayer C: “You made us the rulers of creation. But we turned against you, and betrayed your trust; and we have turned against one another.” In other words, we live in a world that’s chosen power over love, which means that our kingdoms inevitably clash, as we wage war with the weapons of control and manipulation. Far too often our lives become a series of passive aggressive moves and countermoves to defend our petty kingdoms. Worst of all, we have lost the ability to see people as they really are – children of God made in the image of Christ – the true King of our world.

The good news of the Christian Gospel is that Jesus Christ is King and that he died to restore our broken world, our broken relationships, and our broken hearts. As tonight’s reading from Colossians puts it, “he’s made peace by the blood of his cross.” On the cross Jesus shows us what it truly means to be a king. It is good news that Jesus isn’t the sort of King the Jewish people were expecting, because we know about worldly “kings” all too well. Jesus is not a Stalin or Mussolini, a Hitler or Hussein. Jesus is not a harsh taskmaster. He doesn’t bark orders, enforce penalties, and rule with an iron fist. After all, Jesus didn’t enter Jerusalem on a chariot pulled by stallions and warhorses. No – the King of Kings came riding in on a donkey! God did not become human in Jesus Christ to overthrow Rome. He became human to overthrow sin. And tonight we see how He did that – Jesus Christ took the form of a slave and he died on a cross.

Now, we have a natural tendency to assume that in taking the form a slave Jesus was wearing a costume and disguising the All-Powerful and Mighty God. But here’s the miracle, and in some sense the point of tonight’s sermon – Christ the King did not disguise who God is. In taking the form of a servant, Jesus revealed who God is. God is the Infinite Servant; the most Humble Person in the entire Universe. In other words, Jesus did not come as a servant in spite of the fact that he is God; Jesus poured out his life for you and for me precisely because He is God. Jesus Christ is the King who serves.

That is the kind of King we ask to rule over us when we give our lives to Christ – the kind of king who washes his disciple’s feet, and who feels equally as at home with prostitutes and lepers as he does with the righteous and respected. Jesus is the king whose chief delight is to show mercy. Jesus is the King who willingly submitted to a violent death on a Roman cross, and then begged His Father to forgive the very people who arranged that death. Jesus is the King who enters Jerusalem not a chariot but on a farm animal; not with an army but with a dozen fishermen; a king Whose power is revealed not in the breaking of bones, but in the breaking of bread. Jesus is the king no one could have expected.

So if you’d like, think of tonight’s reading from Luke as a coronation ceremony. But notice, Christ the King isn’t seated on a throne. Christ the King is nailed to a cross, and when that happened a revolution was launched – a revolution that turns the world’s notion of kingship upside down. Jesus invites us to join that revolution and to be kings with him by living lives of love, service, and prayer. Jesus is the one, true King of our world, and because of that you and I are free: we are free to pour out our lives in love for one another. We are free to dream Godly dreams and to take Godly risks. We are free from God’s judgment. Why? Because Christ the King was judged for us.

So blessed be God – Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – and blessed be God’s Kingdom now and forever. AMEN.

Jesus' prayer for a missional church

2010-11-17T20:33:00.000-08:00

To listen to this teaching online copy/paste the following link:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/mission.mp3

John 17 (selected verses)

I speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

Evangelism, mission, sharing the Gospel – we have mixed feelings around these words. I’ll never forget having coffee with a student my first year as missioner and she was trying to figure out what came next – graduation was quickly approaching – and she got kind of embarrassed before asking me a question – “so, is God going to be mad if I don’t go to a third world country and try to convert people.” I’m not sure world mission was her vocation. But she was called to be a missionary. How do I know? Because we all are. To be a Christian is to be called into mission. Mission isn’t for super-Christians. It’s for Christians. Prayer – which has been our chief focus this semester at Omega – prayer is not an end in and of itself. The chief purpose of prayer, or at least one of them, is to fuel a life of mission. Consider tonight’s reading; it’s a piece of a prayer that Jesus prays the night before he dies, and what does Jesus pray for? Jesus prays that his disciples will embrace their mission. “As you have sent me into the world,” he says, “so I have sent them.” Now, I know I’ve said this before but the word church comes from the Greek ekklesia – which means to be “called out.” The church is not a building. The church is a group of people called out into the world with a mission. “As you have sent me so I have sent them.”

But we have mixed feelings about mission, Christians and non-Christians alike. For non-Christians the word mission makes them wonder, “I don’t get it. Why do Christians want to convert people? If my faith works for me, who are you to persuade me otherwise?” And I think we’re rightly sensitive to that question. God knows that when it comes to sharing our faith we Christians can be clumsy and awkward. But, should we accept this as a valid reason to not engage in mission? In other words, should we really embrace the logic that says, “Just because some people do it badly no one should do it at all?” You see I know you, and I know myself, and our great danger is that we’ll buy into the myth that says, “my faith is private – it’s my faith. It’s about me, it’s about God, and it’s not about anyone else.”

There is a great truth that we need to be reminded of daily. Christianity is not about you. Christianity is not about me. It’s about our world. It’s about the entire human race. And finally, it’s about God – and more specifically about God’s mission in Jesus Christ to restore both our world and humanity to a right and intimate relationship with Himself. Christianity is about the mission of God, which means that the church – well, that’s just what we call the uncanny group of people who claim to have found new life in that mission.

And so tonight, let’s look at mission by first asking a pretty generic question – what is a mission? If mission is important what is it? A mission, simply put, “is when your safety and comfort comes 2nd to the cause.” Mission happens when there’s a cause that comes first, which means that your personal safety and comfort comes second. For example, a navy seal is sent to a foreign and hostile land to rescue a fellow citizen on death row. Practically speaking, it matters very little if G.I. Joe gets a headache or a backache or if he just gets plain scared because once he commits himself to the mission the prisoner needing rescue has to come first – before his safety and before his comfort. That’s what a mission is; it’s when the cause comes first. And so to understand Christian mission we have to first understand that there is a cause so to speak – that God has an agenda for our world and for every person in it. And what is that agenda? Well, I think the last line of our reading sums it up pretty well; for the world to know that God has sent Jesus into the world and that, as a result, we are loved by God as completely and fully as Jesus is loved by God. That’s the mission – the last line of our reading – for the entire world to know that God has sent Jesus into the world and that because of that we are loved more than we could ever possibly dream. And so, that’s the first thing I want to say about mission – it’s not about us. Christianity is not about us. That’s the first thing I want to say.

But here’s the second – Christianity is about us. Mission is about us. Does the scope of God’s mission reach to the outer edges of the universe? No doubt. But is God so personal and so powerful that He has every hair on our head numbered? Does God care deeply – and I mean deeply – about our personal fulfillment and joy? By all means! So what’s the secret? The secret to personal fulfillment and joy? Mission.

You see we cannot be whole – we cannot live lives that are full, lives that God intended us to live – without being, for lack of a better word, missional. It’s impossible. Until we find something Bigger – something so valuable that we’re willing to lose our lives for it – we’ll never find our lives. That’s just how reality works. Live for yourself and you’ll never find yourself. Lose your life for something Bigger and you’ll save your life, and you’ll find your life, in the process.

And notice, Jesus implies as much in his prayer. Jesus prays that His joy would be made complete in us. The Greek word translated “made complete” really means to fill up to the point of overflowing. Jesus wants our joy to overflow. If we hear the word mission and think drudgery and duty we don’t understand mission. Mission is about our joy – it’s about doing the very thing in life we were meant to do; it’s about being the kind of person we were always meant to be – someone so confident in God that we can finally get over our selves; and because of that someone who reflects God to our world.

Are you confused yet? – That’s okay – it’s a paradox. Mission is about putting our safety and comfort second to the “cause” of God’s Kingdom, but at the same time, only by putting ourselves second can we experience Jesus’ joy made complete in ourselves. So let’s put all this in perspective. Let’s say that your primary goal – what drives you – is to live a safe, cozy life. Find a safe job. Find a safe spouse. Or, avoid both because that feels safer and cozier, depending on your temperament. Here’s what I’d say about that. If we seek first our comfort, then for the most part we’ll get it. We’re smart enough and we’re privileged enough. If we seek comfort we’ll get it. But that’s all we’ll get. The invitation to live a missional life – to put the cause of God’s Kingdom first – this is a call to a much bigger life. And isn’t that the choice we face every day – between safety and sacrifice; between our small concerns and God’s big ones? You see over time our choices add up to a lifestyle and in the words of St. Paul we reap what we sow – either a sufficient amount of comfort, or an overflowing abundance of joy.

For example, why did Jesus go to the cross? Was it for the world? Was it about us? Or, was it about Him? His joy? Because I’m arguing that mission is about both.

Well, clearly God’s mission was for the world. “For God so loved the world that He sent his only begotten Son.” John 3:16 – if you haven’t read the Bible you’ve at least seen the signs at football games, or looked at Tim Tebow’s face paint. Jesus died for us; his mission was for the world. But at the same time, I want you to consider the radical claim of Hebrews 12:2, which says – “For the sake of the joy that was set before him Jesus endured the cross and disregarded its shame.” Why did Jesus go to the cross? For the sake of the joy – so his joy would fill up to the point of overflowing. I love asking people what they think this verse means. In other words, what joy was Jesus so gaga over getting that he weighed the pain of the cross, and in the words of Hebrews, just disregarded it? What joy – or what cause – was so worth it to Jesus that the cross seemed as nothing? Remember, the Son of God existed before the foundation of the world. He already had everything – union with God, equality with God, the worship of angels, not to mention the entire creation that was created through Him and for Him – what joy, what cause, could possibly be worth the cross to the Man who had everything?

As crazy as it sounds, the implication is clear – us. What treasure had been lost that was worth dying to get back? You. Me. The thought of having you back, the thought of having me back, this caused Jesus so much joy that it made him endure the cross. And that’s where the Gospel begins, and because of that where mission begins. We’re the death row inmates, condemned to die in a foreign and a hostile land. Jesus comes to set us free knowing full well that this mission in particular will cost him everything. Why did Jesus do that? For the joy – for the joy of knowing that you and I are safe.

So what does all this mean for your life? Well, the answer is everything but I’ll just leave you with one thing. Ready? Preach the Gospel always. Profound, isn’t it? Preach the Gospel always (1) by doing God’s deeds and (2) by speaking God’s words.

First, do God’s deeds, or to put it differently acquire God’s heart. Learn what actions please God and then do them. And here’s the miracle; before you know it, you’ll be pleased to do what pleases God. Feed the poor. Clothe the naked. Welcome the stranger. Defend the vulnerable. Be slow to speak, slow to anger, and slow to judge. If there’s someone that’s wronged you, don’t wait for them to come to you. Be like God, go to them. I mean, isn’t that what God did for us? To put it differently, a day will come in real space-time history when God’s Kingdom will be established fully on this earth. When that happens, certain deeds and attitudes will no longer be acceptable. So maybe, just maybe, we should start preparing both others and ourselves now for that future reality. Here’s a paraphrase of what Paul says about all this in Colossians 3. “Kill those things inside of you that belong to the old creation: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire and greed. That’s how you used to live but now you have to get rid of all that – anger, wrath, malice, slander and abusive language from your mouth. Strip off the old self and clothe yourself with the new self – the compassionate self, the kind self, the humble self, the meek self, the patient self. Above all, clothe yourself with gratitude and love.” This is where preaching the Gospel begins – with a changed life, when we acquire a new heart. Preach the Gospel always by doing God’s deeds.

But there’s a second piece to our mission. St. Francis once said, “preach the Gospel always and if necessary use words.” “Preach the Gospel and if it’s necessary then use words.” Now, I hate to be anti-St. Francis. That’s kind of like being anti-puppy. But whenever I hear this line quoted in sermons I cringe because this is what I imagine people typically hear. “God wants you to be a good person, but you don’t have to talk about Jesus, especially if that makes you or anyone else uncomfortable.” Preach the Gospel always, and if necessary, use words. Here’s what I’m trying to say. It’s necessary! Faith, according to Paul, comes from what is heard. Just think about your own story. If you believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that you’ve been given new life in His name, how did you come to that conviction? Did you walk by a soup kitchen or have someone open the door for you and think ohhhhh now I get it – Jesus died for my sins and on the third day was raised, how did I miss that? Or, did you go to a camp where the Gospel was clearly laid out? Or to a church where the Word was preached and eventually took root? Or to a friend that told her story and how she came to faith? According to Paul, faith comes from what is heard. If you’re a Christian, my guess is that you’ve put your faith in Christ because at some point you heard the Gospel.

You are called to speak God’s words – to speak real words to real people about how a real God sent Jesus Christ into the real world and that because of that we are really loved more than we could ever really dream. Of course we have to be respectful and appropriate and gentle and non-judgmental – but that just goes back to part I of our mission; doing God’s deeds, acquiring God’s heart. God doesn’t force Himself on us and so let’s not think we have a right to force ourselves on others. But God does speak and so should we. This is how 1 Peter puts it: “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; but do it with gentleness and reverence.” Are you ready? A lot of people out there are in desperate need of hope. Are we ready to give an account of the hope that we have?

Is God going to make you go to a 3rd world country and try to convert people? Maybe, but I doubt it. So where’s your mission field? As long as you live never forget my answer. Wherever you are. Your dorm, your sorority, your fraternity, your major, the band, the water polo team, the young democrat society, the young republican society, the lab, your job. When you’re not in church where are you? That’s your mission field. Wherever you are. God will not make you go anywhere. That’s not how God works. All God’s going to do is ask you to take Him with you. We talked about Providence last week – you are already where God wants you to be. That’s not the question. The question is whether we’ll make life about building our own kingdom or about building God’s. “As you have sent me into the world,” Jesus says, “so I have sent them.” I’ll leave you with the first word of the Great Commission. Go.

does EVERYTHING happen for a reason? on prayer & providence

2010-11-10T20:37:00.000-08:00

To listen to this teaching copy/paste the following link:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/guidance.mp3

Proverbs 16: 1-4, 9, 33; 21:5

The plans of the mind belong to mortals, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord.  All one’s ways may be pure in one’s own eyes, but the Lord weighs the spirit. Commit your deeds to the Lord, and your plans will be established.  The Lord has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble.  The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps.  The lot is cast into the lap, but the decision is the Lord’s alone. The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes to want.

I imagine tonight’s talk will generate a lot of small group discussion, not because my talk is all that good but because tonight’s topic is – guidance. How does God guide us? Does everything happen for reason? If God has a plan, do our choices matter? Do our prayers matter?

The reason we’re talking about guidance is because the bulk of our prayers often have to do with guidance. Is this the right job to take? Is this the right person to date? Should I switch majors? Should I confront this person or just let it be?

We’re all young. Kind of. We have a lot of choices ahead of us, and the vast majority of them are moral. But that doesn’t mean all of them are wise. And so we need guidance. We need guidance to make wise decisions. This isn’t a talk about learning to make choices that are morally upright. This is a talk about learning to make choices that are wise – choices you can live because, well, we have to live with the choices we make.

Now, before we talk about the guidance God gives I want to look at the guidance God does. And I’ll warn you ahead of time, the guidance God does – the Invisible Hand guiding our every step – this is something we can trust, but it’s not something we can understand. To see this let’s look at our reading from Proverbs.

“The plans of the diligent,” Proverbs says, “lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes to want.” In other words, being diligent – attentive, persistent, thoughtful, proactive –this is going to work out a lot better for us than being hasty. Diligent plans turn out well. Hasty plans do not turn out well. In other words, our decisions matter. We’re responsible for making wise choices, and we know from experience that hasty people – people who are impulsive, shortsighted, thoughtless and reckless – they tend to dig themselves into holes they can’t get out of. Proverbs is clear – our choices matter. But are our choices all that matter?

“The lot is cast into the lap,” Proverb says, “but the decision is the Lord’s alone.” Lot casting was a way of making decisions in ancient Israel – kind of like flipping a coin or drawing straws. For example, the church cast lots to choose the 12th apostle after Judas committed suicide. And according to Acts 1:26, “the lot fell on Matthias.” As a side note, several days later the church received the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit’s presence in the church makes casting lots obsolete. But in the Old Testament lot casting was pretty standard. The Israelites used something called Urim and Thummin – two stones that could be used to discern God’s will. Urim and Thummin functioned like a magic eight ball. If a priest wanted to ask God a question he’d get out Urim and Thummin and the answer could be yes, no, or “not sure.” I’m not making this stuff up. My point is this – “the decision is the Lord’s alone.” Every single coin-flip, every lot that is cast, is determined by the Lord. Nothing surprises God.

Now, wait a second, you may be wondering. Do our choices matter? Or, does the Lord determine our life? It’s got to be one or the other. No it doesn’t, the answer is both. Human categories can’t hold this together. I warned you – God’s guidance is something we can trust, but it’s not something we can understand. Now, most of us embrace only one of these perspectives. Either our decisions matter, which means that the future is completely open. How the drama of life will unfold is anyone’s guess – including God’s. Or, we tend to think that God has a plan and because of that our choices are insignificant. But it can’t be both, can it?

Well, the Bible offers what Anglicans have always called a via media – a middle way – between these two views. Ruling out an either/or view of guidance I’d argue that what the Bible offers is a both/and perspective. On the one hand, we are absolutely free to make choices. God doesn’t coerce us or force us or fool us. On the other hand, we live completely under the providence of God – even down to the smallest coin flip.

Now, just to make sure this isn’t a biblical fluke, let’s look at two more verses from Proverbs. “The plans of the mind belong to mortals, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord. The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps.” Now, what on earth is this saying? Well, for one – “the plans of the mind belong to mortals. The human mind plans the way.” In other words, your plans are yours. God isn’t forcing you to do anything. If you do something stupid or evil, people will hold you accountable and they should. God will hold you accountable and He should. Your plans belong to you. Your choices belong to you. You are responsible. If we make a choice, whether it be wise or unwise, we have to live with it.

But, “The answer of the tongue is from the Lord and the Lord directs the steps.” In other words, what actually happens in history – that’s all fixed by God. In other words, nothing happens in our world or in our lives that is outside the providence of God. According to Jesus, every single hair on our head is accounted for. Not one of them, he suggests, falls to the ground apart from the will of His Father (Matt 10:30). And so on the one hand, our plans are ours and our choices matter tremendously. But on the other hand, the outcome – what happens – it’s 100% determined by the perfect Providence, plan and foreknowledge of God.

Now, notice what Proverbs is not saying. It’s not saying that it’s 50/50. That we’re partly responsible for our lives and that God is partly responsible. Proverbs is saying that it’s 100/100, which of course is why it’s utterly impossible to understand. That being said, we don’t have to understand it but we do have to trust it because if we don’t we’ll be in a whole lot of trouble.

For example, let’s say we lean too much on the side of fatalism – that we think nothing we do matters. Have you heard the story of Oedipus? The oracle from birth was that Oedipus would kill his father and marry his mother. Now, this is a fatalistic worldview – nothing Oedipus did mattered and his choices were obsolete. And of course, no matter how hard he tried to escape his fate what did Oedipus do? He killed his father and he married his mother. Now, if you live life with that worldview you will be totally passive and horribly cynical. You’ll have very little hope and very little motivation. Why? Because you’ll think of yourself as a pawn – a pawn in some cruel, fatalistic game. But that’s not the whole story. You and I are not pawns. We’re people. God’s image bearers. People with the capacity to make choices.

And so that means everything is open, right? That our decisions and our will determine the future. Not so fast. If you think that everything being fixed is hopeless, try living with the burden of knowing that your future is 100% tied to the choices you make, and for that matter the prayers that you pray. In other words, try living with the belief that so and so died because you didn’t pray. Now, think about this. If your destiny was 100% tied to your will – the choices you made and the prayers that you prayed – would you really want to get out of bed in the morning? If that were the case, I can tell you one thing. I wouldn’t be a priest. I wouldn’t have gone to the University of Texas. And I wouldn’t know any of you. This may surprise you but none of this was part of my plan. It was God’s. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

Have you seen the movie Bruce Almighty? Bruce, played by Jim Carey, is a bit upset with how God is doing His job and so God – Morgan Freeman – lets him take over. Needless to say, letting Bruce rule the world is a disaster and it raises a great theological question: What fool would want to live in a universe where our future was 100% set by our choices? Especially when we believe in a God that’s a) wiser than we are and b) has higher hopes for us and for our world than we do for ourselves.

You see the Biblical view – paradoxical though it may be – is utterly practical. On the one hand our choices matter greatly. We have every incentive to work hard and be diligent. God expects that from us. But on the other hand, we can relax. We’re held safely in the Father’s hands. We don’t have to worry. Every hair on our head is accounted for. And so when it comes to our lives and our prayers let me say this – Guidance is more of something God does than something God gives. And so if you’re praying for God’s will right now – if you’re looking for God’s guidance – this is what I’d say. You’re standing in it. And nowhere is this more apparent than in Jesus’ prayer the night before He dies. This passage is from Luke 22.

Jesus came out and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives; and the disciples followed him. When he reached the place, he said to them, ‘Pray that you may not come into the time of trial.’ Then he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and prayed, ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.’ In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.

Now, let me ask you a question. Jesus’ death on the cross – was it God’s will or humanity’s will? In other words, why did Jesus die? Because of us? Or because Jesus’ death was at the heart of God’s plan to save the world?

Well, the Greek word usually linked with Jesus’ crucifixion is paradidomi, which means “handed over.” For example, in Luke 22:6 we’re told that Judas sought an opportunity to hand Jesus over when the crowd wasn’t looking. In Luke 24:20 the religious leaders, and I quote, “handed him over to be condemned to death.” Pilate, after having Jesus flogged, “handed him over to be crucified.” (Mk 15:15) Now based only on that evidence, how would you answer the question, why did Jesus die – because it was our will or God’s?

Humanity. It was our sins. Judas, the religious leaders, Pilate – we are the ones responsible. And so on Good Friday when we read the passion narrative and the congregation screams, “Crucify, Him! Crucify Him!” that is 100% theologically accurate. It was our choice to hand Jesus over – our sins and our decision that brought Jesus to the cross. But at the same time, that’s not the whole story. Reality is always more complicated.

In his letter to the Romans this is what Paul writes. God “did not withhold his own Son, but handed him over for all of us.” Who handed Jesus over to die? God did. And so does that mean that the Father sent Jesus to the cross against his will? This is what Paul says in Galatians. “The life I now live I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and handed himself over for me.” (Gal 2:20) And so here we have it – Paul says that God handed Jesus over and that Jesus handed himself over.

The reason I’m pointing this out is because here we have Jesus the night before he dies praying – pouring his heart into God asking for what He wants more than anything – for the cup to pass, for there to be some other way. Now, I want you to consider how amazing this is. Here we have God made flesh praying through his tears in absolute agony and not receiving what He asks for. Have you ever experienced the pain of unanswered prayer? Not as much as Jesus. When Jesus prays this prayer he’s mentally lost, emotionally crushed, and spiritually confused and so He comes before God and says, “Abba – I need some guidance.” And what you and I know is something that Jesus in his anguish did not know. He was standing right in the middle of God’s guidance. And so it is very true that guidance is something God gives. Pray for it! Seek it! Make wise choices. After all, you have to live them. But, let us not forget that guidance is always first and foremost something that God does.

And so when it comes to making prayer-soaked choices, what does this all mean for your life? In other words, give me something practical to work with. Well, this is what Proverbs says. “Commit your deeds to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” Now, we tend to think that God works the other way around. In other words, we want to focus on God’s plan first, and after choosing the right plan focus on our deeds – or on what we do. But Proverbs says it’s the other way around. First, we focus on our deeds – on being a person of character. Before we focus on learning to pray for the right path, we focus on merely learning how to pray. Commit your deeds to the Lord first, and then your plans will be established. In other words, when we first focus on who we are – on our deeds so to speak – we find that we grow into people who come to naturally make wise choices, who come to know the right path when we see it and who come to know the wrong path when we see it. As Jesus himself puts it, “Seek first the Kingdom of God, then everything else will be added to you as well.”

It’s not that God doesn’t give guidance. He does – through signs, and scripture, and other Christians and our circumstances. But, if we live our lives for ourselves and only seek God’s will when we come to a fork in the road it’s not going to do us any good.

And so let me end by saying this. Pretty soon you’re all going to find yourselves at a crossroads. You’ll be graduating and will be asking some pretty tough questions. Should I take this job? Should I date this person? Here’s my advice. Make a choice. Don’t be anxious. Pray about it, think about it, but make a choice. One of my favorite Bible verses comes from the Book of Jeremiah. It says, “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

I know you all have plans for your life. That’s great – I’ve got plans for mine, too. But at the same time, God also has plans. And it’s very true that our choices matter – we do have to live with them. Like Paul says, “we reap whatever we sow.” But, at the same time, each one of us is standing in the middle of a perfect plan, a good plan, a plan we can’t screw up. And so above all else, become a person of prayer – not just because you want to discern God’s will, but more importantly, because you’re already in the middle of it.

the true Temple of God

2010-11-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

To listen to this teaching please copy/paste the following link:
http://traffic.libsyn.com/johnnewton/haggaispromise.mp3

“Yet now take courage. My Spirit abides among you; do not fear. For thus says the Lord: in a little while … the treasure of all nations shall come.”

The people of Judah were having a pretty crappy day on the 17th of October 520 BC – or if you prefer the lunar calendar, the 21st day of the 7th month in the 2nd year of King Darius. God’s people are depressed and hopeless and can’t help but wonder. Is this it? Has God left us? Does the future hold anything good?

These are the questions Haggai responds to, but first you need some background info. Around 950 BC King Solomon built a temple to God, and it was remarkable – it’s splendor unmatched by anything else in the world. There are two things you need to know about the temple. First, it’s where God lived. We talk about how God lives in our hearts. Not the Israelites – God lived in the temple. Second, the temple is where sacrifices of atonement were made for the people of God. The God of Israel was holy – the people were not holy – and so animal sacrifices were made so unholy people could approach the holy God of the universe. Once again, two things; the temple was God’s home; the temple was the place of sacrifice.

Now, fast-forward to 586 BC. King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon invades Jerusalem, takes the people into exile, and destroys the temple. I mean he utterly demolishes it. For the people of Israel this was the ultimate crisis. Death they could deal with. Exile they could handle. The destruction of the temple – well, this was too much to bear. You see the temple was the center of their life. With no temple there’s no God. I mean, can you imagine believing that God was dead? You’d be asking the same questions they were. Is this it? Has God left us? Does the future hold anything good?

Now, fast-forward another fifty years. Cyrus, King of Persia, conquers the Babylonians and shows mercy to the Israelites. He just decides to send them home. I mean talk about a miracle! The Israelites get to go back to Jerusalem, and what’s the first thing they do? They start rebuilding the temple, which is where tonight’s reading picks up. You see there’s a problem with the temple “take two.” It’s a joke. Compared to the first temple? The 2nd temple is a complete and utter joke. Imagine that an earthquake destroyed UT’s football stadium. Now imagine the stadium was rebuilt to look like the one from your high school. In the words of Haggai, “it would be in your sight as nothing.” It’d be a joke! Now remember, it’s only been 50 years. People still remember the old temple. In fact, according to the Book of Ezra people wept when they saw the 2nd temple being built, and it made them ask those questions – those questions I know we’ve asked ourselves at some point in our life. Is this it? Has God left us? Does the future hold anything good?

It is in response to these questions that the word of the Lord comes to Haggai, and I’ll be bold – the secret to life is found in understanding what God says – so this isn’t the time to doze off. “Yet now take courage,” God says. “Yet now” – in the midst of feeling depressed, in the midst of feeling hopeless – yet now take courage. “I am with you,” says the Lord. “My Spirit abides among you.” Not in the Temple. Among you. “For thus says the Lord, in a little while … the treasure of all nations shall come.” In other words, God tells them of course this isn’t it! No, I haven’t left you. The future belongs to the Lord.

So what did God mean by that? Well, I know what they thought God meant. They thought He meant, “Be patient, give it more time, the 2nd temple will eventually be better than the first one.” There’s only problem. The 2nd temple wasn’t better, and in 70 AD the Romans destroyed it – just like the Babylonians did the first one. So assuming the promise in tonight’s reading is about something else, what does the promise point to?

Well, Haggai does point to a new Temple – that much is clear from the reading – so let’s recall the temple’s two purposes. The Temple is where God lived. The Temple is where atonement was made for sin. So whatever this new Temple is, it has to surpass the old temples in both these areas.

Let me tell you what the most shocking verse of the Bible is – Matthew 12:6. The Pharisees are questioning Jesus. They’re not too sure who He is or what He’s about. He’s been warning them that the temple they trust in, compared to God’s true Temple, is nothing more than a heap of stones. Now, if that weren’t radical enough, in Matthew 12:6 Jesus looks the Pharisees straight in the eye and says, “Truly I tell you, something greater than the temple is here.” In other words, I AM the true temple of God, Jesus says, the new place where God dwells fully, the new place where atonement is made. “In me,” Jesus says, “is something greater than the temple.” Shocking – it’s either beautiful or it’s blasphemous.

Now, Christians believe a lot of things about Jesus Christ, but two of those beliefs are central to understanding Haggai’s promise. First, Jesus Christ was fully divine. He’s God. As Colossians puts it, in Jesus “the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily,” or as Hebrews puts it, Jesus is “the exact imprint of God’s very being.” Jesus is not merely a prophet, a sage, a teacher. He’s the Word made flesh – the place where God dwells fully; something greater than the temple. Second, in Jesus Christ we have complete atonement for our sins. Compared to Jesus’ sacrifice, any sacrifice we make to God is a joke. To quote Hebrews once again, the priest in the old temple “offers again and again the same sacrifices that can never take away sins. But Christ offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins.” One sacrifice for all time – Jesus Christ is the sacrifice that ends all sacrifices; Again, we see that he is Something greater than the temple.

So what does Haggai point to? The new Temple. The true Temple. The place where God dwells fully and where atonement is made once for all time. Haggai points to Jesus Christ – the treasure of the nations. So our final question, what does this mean for your life?

First, no matter how pathetic or depressing your life seems at the moment, never underestimate God’s capacity to do something new. “My Spirit abides among you,” God says, so “don’t you dare be afraid.” Yet now take courage. Haggai was written to people who took one look at the new temple and felt despair. You see not in their wildest dreams could they ever have imagined what God had in store for our world – that Jesus Christ would come as a “living Temple” to reconcile us to God once and for all. The Bible says that, “eye hasn’t seen nor ear heard what God has in store for those who love Him.” I really hope you’re not in one of those pathetic and depressing funks at the moment. But if you are, don’t you dare underestimate God’s capacity to do something new.

Second, don’t dwell in the past. The main reason the Israelites were so depressed about the second temple is because they were so nostalgic about the first one, and because of that, they missed the miracle of what God was doing in the present moment. So a question we have to ask ourselves, what “temple” in our life has been destroyed? A relationship? Life in the small town? A job prospect that didn’t pan out? I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is it’s not coming back. The girl, the guy, the home, that feeling, the good ‘ole days – it’s not coming back. That’s the bad news. The good news is God’s Spirit is among you now. Don’t miss the miracle.

Third, if Jesus Christ is the new Temple, our life must revolve around Him. Not church. Not bible study. Not school. Not this person. Not that job. Our life must revolve around Jesus. You see practically speaking our life has to revolve around something. Jesus invites us to make that something Him. And here’s what’s so ironic. When we make Jesus our Temple He then makes us His. Our body becomes a place where God chooses to dwell, and as a result, a place where sacrifices are made for the benefit of the world. Jesus Christ is the new Temple. Our life must revolve around Him. Make Jesus your temple and He will make you His.

Finally, I have to point out the great irony of this sermon. God’s new Temple, Jesus that is, was also destroyed – not by the Babylonians, not by the Romans, but us. As Isaiah says, “He was crushed for our sins.” On the cross Jesus Christ was utterly demolished. But was this our end as the children of God? Remember, the destruction of the first temple meant exile. It was the end of their relationship with God. Was Jesus’ death our end as the children of God? No. The destruction of God’s new Temple, Jesus Christ, this is our salvation. Our hope. It doesn’t mean exile. Far from it. The death of Jesus Christ – it’s the way home.

So when we find ourselves asking:
Is this it? Has God left us? Does the future hold anything good?

Remember this: The Treasure of the nations has come into our world. The future belongs to Him. Eye has not seen nor ear heard what God has in store for those who love Him. Something greater than the temple is here.

tear prayer (pouring out our soul)

2010-11-03T20:51:00.000-07:00

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No form of prayer is more important than the one we’ll discuss tonight, and yet no form of prayer is as foreign to the church as the one we’ll discuss tonight – and that’s deeply emotional tear prayer, or “pain prayer,” or lament. For the most part, we really don’t know what to do with our negative and dark emotions, and so most of us do one of two things. We stuff them, or we’re enslaved to them.

A lot of people stuff their feelings of pain and disillusionment, which often comes with life in a fallen world. In fact, I think religious people are especially prone to this. Religious people tend to think that God blesses good people, and “good” people aren’t supposed to feel rage, depression, and disappointment, and so when those feelings begin sneaking up, religious people stuff them. Bury them. They pretend they don’t exist. A lot of people stuff their feelings.

But on the other hand, a lot of people are utterly controlled by their feelings. The prevalent view in our society is that feelings just need to be expressed, or acted upon. And so whenever someone tells you they just need to vent, this is the logic they’re working with – that just letting their feelings flow like vomit will somehow bring about healing. But venting our emotions is like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound. It helps nothing, and to the extent that we think that it does, it actually harms us because it keeps us from getting the proper treatment that we need. And so stuffing our feelings is not the way of Christ. But venting our feelings is also not the way of Christ. And so what we need is a middle way – a Biblical way – through these two options. We need to learn to pray our feelings, especially the dark ones. And so with that in mind, let’s look at our reading from 1 Samuel.

1 Samuel 1: 4-18 (some verses omitted)

On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to his wife Peninnah; but to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb. Her rival used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year after year; as often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. After they had eaten and drunk at Shiloh, Hannah rose and presented herself before the Lord. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the Lord. She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord, and wept bitterly. As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; therefore Eli thought she was drunk. So Eli said to her, ‘How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.’ But Hannah answered, ‘No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was sad no longer.

Now on the surface this story looks like a cheesy episode of HBO’s Big Love. There’s one husband, Elkanah, and he has two wives – Peninnah and Hannah. Peninnah has lots of babies and keeps getting pregnant; Hannah is barren. To make matters worst, Peninnah – who doesn’t like Hannah – is constantly rubbing her face in the dirt about something she can’t control. And so the first thing we need to see is the depth of Hannah’s pain. Our reading says Hannah is “irritated” but you and I know, given the context, that “irritated” is a weak translation. In fact, the Hebrew word means, “to thunder or roar as in a storm.” In other words, what 1 Samuel suggests is that because Hannah can’t have children, she’s as torn up in her soul as the sea is in the midst of a hurricane. Because she’s barren Hannah’s soul thunders with pain, disappointment and shame.

Hannah can’t have kids – I don’t get it, what’s the big deal? That’s not the worst thing that could happen to a person. Actually, in Hannah’s day – for a woman – it was. You see in Hannah’s world a family’s prospect was completely tied to the number of children they had. Children meant income, status and security. The more children – the more hands to work the field; the more warriors to protect the village. On top of that, if you didn’t want to starve to death, you needed children to take care of you when you got old. The ancient Israelites didn’t have nursing homes or social security. Your only way to die securely was to have children, and practically speaking, if you wanted to have 3 or 4 live to adulthood, you needed to have at least ten – that’s how high the morality rate was. And so having lots of children was literally a life or death issue for a family and for a nation. And that’s why women who bore lots of children were considered heroes, and barren women, like Hannah, were considered failures. You see Hannah felt useless because her culture said, “if you don’t have children, you are nothing.” Hannah felt useless. Peninnah told her she was useless. Her culture told her she was useless. And because of that, Hannah’s soul thundered with pain.

That’s pretty oppressive. Thank God we don’t live in a culture like that, right? Wrong. We do live in a culture like that. Every culture, including our own, is just as oppressive as Hannah’s. You see every culture has a game – a happiness value system if you will – and the rules of the game are simple. If you have X, then you have worth. But if you don’t have X, you are nothing. And so sure – barren women in our society aren’t judged. No one here will take a big social hit for not having children. But maybe you will for not having designer jeans. Or if you don’t wear a size 2 or look like whoever’s on the cover of Star Magazine. And of course it’s the same for men, who have their own expectations they’re supposed to be living into. A happiness value system is imposed on each one of us, and to the extent that we play the culture’s game, our soul will thunder. Let me give you some stats. 400 Christians involved in a campus ministry at the University of Texas were surveyed a few years back. In 2008,

• 72% of women felt bad about how they looked at least once a week and 13% struggled with an eating disorder
• 34% of men were addicted to pornography
• 20% had suicidal thoughts at least once a semester – that’s one out of every five

Let’s get real for a second – only an oppressive culture can create those kinds of statistics. Remember, those surveyed were Christians – people trying to anchor their lives in Jesus Christ. And like us, most of them found it difficult to be faithful and joyful. And so what I want us to see is that Hannah’s culture was no more oppressive than ours. Every culture plays the game. Every culture gives us a happiness value system and to the extent that we buy in our soul will thunder with pain. Now, I’m not saying our culture is the source of all our pain or even most of it, but it was the source of Hannah’s pain, and it’s the source of a lot the pain we feel, and that’s why I mention it. And so what does Hannah do?

Well, our reading tells us Hanna “rose” but the Hebrew word is implying more, that she finally “took a stand.” Hanna took a stand against finding meaning in her culture’s happiness value system and she decides to turn to the Lord. In other words, Hannah takes the mess her life has become and she decides to resolve it in prayer. And notice how emotional Hannah’s prayer is, so emotional in fact that the high priest Eli had never seen anything like it. He thought Hannah was drunk! But she’s not. In Hannah’s own words, she’s “pouring out her soul before the Lord.”

“I’ve been pouring out my soul before the Lord.” This is the middle way we’ve been looking for. We don’t stuff our emotions, and we don’t just vent them. No, we pour them out before God. Or to put it differently, we pour them in to God’s reality. Let’s look at one more Bible passage, which sheds a little light on how we do that.

Psalm 126: 4-6

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.  May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.

I have to say, I love the psalms – they put us in touch with and help us to pray through the deepest emotions of the human heart. And most of the psalms, believe it or not, are “laments” – i.e., pre-reflected prayers of great pain and anger towards God. And this psalm in particular helps us see three things when it comes to our tears. It suggests that we should expect them, plant them, and pray them. In other words, expect tears. Plant your tears. Pray your tears.

First, we need to expect tears. A lot of Christians walk around with a myth that goes something like this. If I’m good then God won’t let anything bad happen to me. But the psalmist compares what his people are going through to the Negev, which was a lifeless dessert. Who knows exactly what his people are going through – perhaps a plague or a military defeat? But either way, what he’s saying to God is “our life right now is like the driest of deserts.” And so first, Christians should expect tears. In fact, to the extent that we grow in Christ we’ll actually cry more. The prophet Ezekiel says that God takes hearts of stone and turns them into hearts of flesh. What that means is that as we grow our heart becomes more like God’s heart, which is the softest and most tender heart in the universe. You see hearts of stone encounter evil and it just bounces right off. They feel contempt or anger towards the evildoer. But not people with hearts of flesh. They absorb the pain. They absorb the evil. They feel it deeply – like God.

And isn’t this what Jesus did? Isaiah prophesied that the Messiah would be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” And one thing we know about Jesus – he was always crying. His soul thundered in the face of the sin and sickness and faithlessness of the people he encountered. And just in case we’ve bought into the lie that God won’t let anything bad happen to us if we’re good, think of Jesus. He was pretty good and, well, things ended badly for Him. And so lesson number one. Expect pain. Expect tears. Not every day. Not every season of life. But there will be days, and there will be seasons, where weeping is par for the course. And when that happens, please know it’s not because we’ve done anything wrong or because God has abandoned us.

To the extent that we know that, we can (2) plant our tears when they come. Listen again to what psalm 126 says. “Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.” In other words, our tears need to be seen as an opportunity for growth. The image the psalm gives us is that of a farmer, and it’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening. Either, the farmer is weeping on the soil and his tears are supposed to be the seed, or the farmer has planted seeds and is watering those seeds with his tears. Either way, the point is the same. What this psalm is saying is that if our tears are planted in God, then in the end we’ll reap a harvest of joy. In other words, we’ll be more joyful, more loving, and more gracious than had we never wept in the first place. In and of themselves, tears will do us no good. But planted in God, they yield a harvest of joy. Paul puts it like this, “for we know that this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.” What do tears planted in God do? Prepare us for an eternal weight of glory beyond anything that we can measure.

And if we know that, (3) we can pray our tears. We won’t stuff them. We won’t just vent them. No, we’ll think deeply about what we’re feeling – our anger and fear and disappointment and failure – and we’ll pour it out before the Lord. We’ll pour our pain into God’s reality, but in order to do that, we have to understand the reality of God. First, we have to know how great the grace of God is. This is something Hannah understood. You see Hannah had faith that the broken heart of one obscure little woman, whom the culture deemed a failure, mattered to God. That’s part of what’s implied when the Bible says Hanna “rose.” She took a stand against her culture’s nihilistic view that said she didn’t matter and she poured her soul into God’s greatness and God’s mercy because she knew that to Him she did matter. She mattered greatly. And so to pray our pain the first thing we need to realize is this: “it’s safe.” Our deepest, darkest emotions and fears can be expressed to God without shame. We don’t put before God what we think should be inside us. We put before God what actually is inside us, even if it’s messy. But to do that, we have to know how great the grace of God is.

Second, we have to pray our sufferings with a vision of the cross. We have to know that, the night before he died, Jesus said, “his soul was sorrowful even unto death.” In other words, Jesus knows what it’s like to cry out in pain and to hear nothing but silence. He understands. He knows. He experienced that for us.

Finally, we can only pray our tears to the extent that we know the glory that awaits us. Like the psalm says, those who sow with tears will reap songs of joy. The Book of Revelation says that in the end God will wipe away every tear from our eyes. In fact, psalm 56 says that even now God keeps our every tear in a bottle. In other words, every single tear matters to God. Every tear planted in Him will eventually reap a great harvest of joy – a harvest much greater than had we never cried in the first place.

Salvation

2010-11-01T09:40:00.000-07:00

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Then Jesus said, ‘Today salvation has happened in this house, for the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.’

Some of you have heard this story before but I’m going to tell it again. My sophomore year of high school I spent Labor Day weekend with some friends at the beach. I ventured off from my group momentarily and was approached by a young man about my age. As he greeted me with his right hand I noticed the bible in his left, and circumventing any formal introduction, he asked me a question that every person from Southeast Texas is asked at least once by a complete stranger. “Are you saved?” With all the maturity of a sixteen-year-old, I began to flail around in a sarcastic panic and scream “from what?” Yea, he didn’t think that joke was funny either. He tried again. “Are you saved?” Not knowing how to respond, I assured him that I was a devout Episcopalian. Knowing exactly how to respond, he told me Episcopalians were not saved – especially the devout ones. An awkward silence followed, which the young man eventually broke by taking a different angle; have you asked Jesus into your life?

In today’s Gospel Jesus looks at Zacchaeus and says, “Today salvation has happened in this house.” Salvation. That’s the focus of tonight’s sermon and so here’s what I’d like to do. First, I want to tell you what salvation isn’t by looking at two common misconceptions. Second, I want to explore what salvation is and offer insight as to what that means for your life.

First, let’s look at what salvation is not. There are two common misconceptions floating around. First, there’s what Dallas Willard calls “bar code” salvation. For example, let’s say you go to the store and buy an apple. When you check out, how does the machine know it’s an apple? It has a sticker with a bar code on it that tells the machine “apple” whenever you scan it. But let’s say you take the bar code sticker off a watermelon and put it on that same apple? Well, when you take your apple to be scanned at check out it’s going to ring up as a watermelon, right? Bar code salvation says that when we accept Jesus Christ as our Savior – when we “pray the magic prayer” – the bar code in our soul changes, but that’s it. It does not matter if we continue living as the most rotten apple in the world; to God we’re a watermelon. We prayed the prayer. We moved from unsaved to saved. We die, God scans us – which is what judgment is – and we’re either in or we’re out. Now, there’s a shade of truth here, but nothing more. There are two many flaws to name but I’ll give us two. First, in bar code salvation, we don’t have to change at all. There is no intimacy with Christ in this model. Jesus changes our status but He doesn’t change our lives. Second, this model is completely individualistic and has nothing to say about our world. We don’t have time to talk about it tonight, but salvation is cosmic. It includes the physical universe and the material world. Misconception 1 – bar code salvation.

But then there’s misconception 2 – the idea that salvation is something we do; it’s mainly about us being good. According to this view we have free will – we choose to be good or bad – but if we are good and nice we’ll go to heaven and get an ice cream cone when we die. Yea we’ll make some mistakes – who doesn’t? – but if we try to be a good person, we’ll be fine.

Two problems. One, according to Jesus, we’re not just flawed. Brace yourself – we’re “evil.” Luke 11:13; “if you then who are evil know how to give good gifts how much more does your Father in heaven.” Do you see how casually Jesus slips that in?” “You guys are evil, we all know that.” In tonight’s Gospel Jesus is even more emphatic than that. Jesus calls us “the lost” – not the misguided – the lost. The problem with misconception 2 is that we’re evil.

But there’s another problem with a view of salvation that depends on us being good. We don’t have free will. We have free choice. God’s not pulling the strings. Of course we are free to make choices, but a million different factors influence those choices – our family history, genetic makeup, the choices of other people. In other words, a lot of things we don’t choose influence what we do choose. Why is it that we wrestle with the same things over and over again? Why do we want so badly to be like this, but then we go, time and time again, and we act like that? The apostle Paul puts it like this. “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want but I do the very thing that I hate.” Does that resonate with you at all? If so welcome to the club of people who can’t save themselves.

So a quick recap. Salvation isn’t tricking God. Switching the barcode. Saying a magic prayer that changes our status but not our hearts. But at the same time, we can’t save ourselves. We’re evil. “The lost.” To quote Isaiah, our “righteous” deeds appear as filthy rags before God and because of that we need salvation. And so the million dollar question – what is it and how does it happen?

Well, I’ll get the ball rolling but that’s about all I can do with the time that’s left. Let’s go back to that young man’s question – have you asked Jesus into your life? Theologically speaking that’s impossible. We never ask Jesus into our life. He always asks Himself into ours. Salvation happens when we respond to Jesus like Zacchaeus did, and I’m thinking of two things in particular. First, Zacchaeus took Jesus home – he accepted Jesus’ invitation. Second, Zacchaeus was so overjoyed that Jesus wanted to be with him that it changed his life. So let’s look at those really quickly.

First, a saving relationship with Jesus Christ never begins with a decision we make. It always begins with a decision Christ makes. Zacchaeus doesn’t invite Jesus over for dinner. Jesus invites himself over for dinner. And by the way, inviting yourself to someone’s home was just as taboo in Jesus’ day as it is in ours. My favorite verse in the Bible is Revelation 3:20 where Jesus says, “behold I stand at the door and knock, and if anyone hears my voice and opens the door I will come in an dwell with them.” Jesus knocks on our door, not the other way around. Do you hear Him knocking? Have you taken him home? Now, it’s a metaphor but stay with me. Jesus wants access to every room in the house – to every part of our lives. And so when it comes to our lives, where have we closed the door and said “sorry Jesus, this part of my life is private.” Or, have we let Him in all? Do we trust in some arrangement that Jesus made for us – bar code faith – or do we trust Jesus? “Zacchaeus,” he says, “I must stay at your house today.” Not visit. Not tidy it up. Not have dinner. I must stay. “I’m moving in Zacchaeus.” Jesus is knocking on our door. If he’s not in he wants in. If he’s already in he want to go deeper. Jesus is knocking on some door in your life – do you hear it?

Second, Zacchaeus was so overjoyed that Jesus wanted to be with him that it changed his life. In tonight’s Gospel Jesus says “salvation has come to this house,” but that’s a bad translation. The Greek is literally, “salvation has happened in this house.” Salvation is something that happens – it happens when our life is filled with a new and indescribable joy that begins to set us free. In other words, salvation, when complete, will give us back free will. We’ll be free, once again, to love God and to love people. Yes, it’s a gradual process. Like Peter says salvation is something we “grow into.” We will still wrestle with bad habits and bad attitudes. But, when we hear Jesus knocking, when we open that door, when we realize that we were lost but that Jesus sought us out and found us; salvation happens. We’ll be filled with a joy that changes us from the inside out. It happened to Zacchaeus. It can happen to us. Rotten apples can actually change into watermelons.

Now, we’re all at different places in our journey of faith, and we all need to open the door to Jesus in some aspect of our life. Some of us trust in an arrangement Jesus made for us to get us into heaven but we don’t trust Jesus. Some of us trust in ourselves and look to Jesus when we need a little boost. Some of us have no idea what we believe; we just know we need to be here tonight. And so here’s what I want to leave us with. Not one of us here tonight is a “seeker.” There’s only one Seeker – the Son of Man – and he came to seek out and to save the lost. The question isn’t, have you asked Jesus into your life? The question is, has he asked Himself into yours?

You are here tonight for a reason. He stands at the door and He knocks. Jesus doesn’t want to visit from time to time He wants to move in. If anyone hears His voice and opens the door Jesus will come in, your life’s going to change, and salvation is going to happen.

forgiveness

2010-10-24T18:54:00.001-07:00

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At my first defense no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them!

We live in an unforgiving world. There’s a Newtonian-like law governing our world – Isaac that is, not John. You remember Newton’s third law, don’t you? For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Well, our world’s governed by the law of retaliation. “For every injury suffered there is an unequal and infinitely greater injury inflicted.”

I found a great website this week – thepayback.com – whose vision statement reads, “revenge at its best.” Revenge is big business. According to the site’s founder, “there’s nothing that gets your message across better than a smelly, dead fish! These packages are very popular and are typically sent to your ex, a backstabbing friend, or to anyone who has pissed you off.” What a perfect example of the law that governs our world – for every injury suffered there is an unequal and infinitely greater injury inflicted.

Now, I’m not trying to be naïve. People hurt us, and when that happens we can’t just pretend that they didn’t. Forgetting that someone’s wronged us simply is not realistic. For example, let’s say a wife cheats on her husband. The husband has two options. Option one, he can live by the law of retaliation. He can rub her nose in the dirt, tell her she’s awful, tell their kids she’s awful, and send her a dead fish. Or, option two, he can forgive her. But if the husband chooses to forgive he’s at the same time making another choice. He’s choosing to absorb the pain. Now, think about this. He can’t just pretend that his wife didn’t cheat. If he chooses to forgive he’s at the same time choosing to absorb the pain, to feel the pain, to take that pain into the center of his heart. No wonder we prefer option one. It’s so much easier than forgiving.

With the time we have left, here’s what I’d like to do. First, I want to give you the cliff notes version of revenge and forgiveness in the Bible. Second, I want to tell you what forgiveness is and what it isn’t. Third, I want to tell you the only place you’ll ever find the power to forgive others.

First, the history; right after the fall, Genesis chapter four, there’s this odd dude named Lamech who comes out of nowhere and says this. “I killed a man for wounding me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech is avenged seventy-sevenfold.” In other words, this is where the law of retaliation first surfaces in the bible – that awful law that says, “you hurt me, and I’ll make it seventy-seven times worst.” Now, fast forward a couple thousand years – God gives Israel “the Law,” and what does the Law say to do when someone hurts us? “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” In other words, the Law says we can hurt people back but not an ounce more than they hurt us – no doubt an improvement. But, is “an eye for an eye” the fullest expression of God’s heart? No. The fullest expression of God’s heart is seen in Jesus Christ, who says: “you’ve heard that it was said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth but I say to you do not resist and evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” In other words, Jesus reveals the fullness of God’s heart when he tells his disciples, “Take option two. Turn the cheek. Absorb the pain. Be like Me. Forgive others so freely and completely that the world thinks you’re crazy.”

There’s this great scene in the Gospel of Matthew where Peter asks Jesus how many times he has to forgive a person that sins against him over and over again – “is seven times enough” Peter wonders. “Not seven times,” Jesus replies, “but I tell you seventy-seven times.” 77? Why not 78 or 76 – why 77? Jesus was reversing the law of Lamech. Lamech says, “you hurt me, I’ll make it seventy-seven times worst.” Jesus Christ says, “you hurt me, I’ll take it seventy-seven times over.” These are two very different ways of living in this world.

To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to forgive people so freely and completely that the world thinks we’re crazy – to absorb the pain, to turn the cheek, to forgive seventy-seven times over. In tonight’s reading from II Timothy Paul gives us a great example of this reckless forgiveness. Apparently, Paul’s been deserted and his friends have withdrawn their support. And what does Paul say? “May it not be counted against them!” Paul prays for their forgiveness. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was stoned to death. His last words are recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, which says, “Stephen knelt down and cried in a loud voice, Lord do not hold this sin against them.” Of course, Paul and Stephen weren’t the first to forgive so recklessly. Luke tells us that in the midst of being crucified Jesus cried out, “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing.” To be a Christian is to forgive people so freely and so completely that the world thinks we’re crazy. So really quickly, what is forgiveness, and where do we find the power to forgive?

What is forgiveness? Well, I’ll tell you what it’s not. Forgiveness is not forgetting. All forgetting requires is a bad memory. In fact, the reason forgiveness is so important is because, practically speaking, we can’t forget. Forgiveness is not forgetting. It’s also not reconciliation. Does God want us to be reconciled to each other? Of course! But reconciliation takes two people – it’s about rebuilding a relationship. Forgiveness and reconciliation aren’t the same thing. So what is forgiveness? Forgiveness begins when we quit – when we quit the quest to get even, which is the natural inclination of our wounded soul. Forgiveness is an act of the will, an intentional choice to absorb the pain instead of inflicting it back on whoever caused it. Forgiveness is not withdrawing. Forgiveness is engaging. Meeting the pain head on. Taking the pain into our heart and praying with Paul, “May it not be counted against them!”

So here’s the million-dollar question. In an unforgiving world, how do we forgive people so freely and so completely that the world thinks we’re crazy? We have to see how much it cost for God to forgive us. I can’t tell you how often people ask me, why did Jesus have to die for our sins? Why couldn’t God just forgive us? Isn’t He God? Can’t He just wave a wand around and pretend it never happened? Well, let me ask you this – can you? I mean, do we believe in a personal God, or don’t we? Do we believe that God is love – that He’s vulnerable and that He allows Himself to be hurt – or don’t we? Think of a time you’ve been really hurt. Lied to. Humiliated. Cheated on. Betrayed. Could you just forgive? No. You either made them pay, or you said I forgive you and you absorbed the pain yourself. You took it into your heart. Now, if it’s true that no one can hurt us more than the people we love the most, and if it’s also true that God’s capacity to love is infinitely greater than ours, then isn’t God’s capacity to be hurt infinitely greater as well? You know that metaphor I used earlier about the wife that cheats on her husband – that’s perhaps the most common metaphor the Bible uses to describe humanity’s broken relationship with God. In other words, God loves us with a perfect love. But we – we reject that love in such a way that God feels lied to. Humiliated. Cheated on. Betrayed.

Can God just forgive? No, like us God has two options. One, He can make us pay. God can withdraw. He can give us the cold shoulder. And theologically speaking, that’s what Hell is – God removing His presence from us. But, God also has option two. God could choose to absorb all the pain of the entire human race Himself. The accumulation of our lies, our unfaithfulness and our betrayal and all the pain that comes with that – God could absorb it all Himself. The good news of the Christian Gospel is that God chose option two; that on the cross Jesus Christ, in a cosmic and mystical way, turned the other cheek seventy-seven times over and cried “may it not be counted against them!’

Now, if that’s true – and for the record, my deepest belief about the world is that it is true – if Jesus’ sacrificial death on the cross is true, then everything has changed. If it’s true, we have to forgive. We must choose to absorb the pain when others hurt us. We can’t return it. You see forgiving others isn’t something we have to put up with as Christians. No, forgiveness – absorbing the pain, turning the cheek – this is our privilege as Christians. It’s our calling as Christians. Its what makes us more like Jesus.

Now, when worship ends I’ll be sending us out into an unforgiving world. Just to be clear, we only have two options when people hurt us, and they will. We can live by the law of Lamech or we can live by the grace of Jesus Christ. Following Jesus means living by a different law – for every injury suffered there has to be an unequal and infinitely greater blessing returned. Where do we get the power to do that? Look to the cross. Jesus has forgiven us seventy-seven times over. Our job is to forgive others so freely and completely that the world thinks we’re crazy.

The law of Lamech or the grace of Jesus Christ. God chose option 2. My hope and my prayer is that you will, too.

not losing heart

2010-10-18T20:32:00.000-07:00

Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, `Grant me justice against my opponent.' For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, `Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.'" And the Lord said, "Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

Faith can be hard. Believing the Gospel can be hard. Living in the world with hope can be hard. This world – it’s a tough place. Bad things happen, and from time to time we just feel bad. We get depressed. Lonely. Scared. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Discouraged. Hopeless. Words like confidence, security and joy – these are the things we want to feel, but let’s be honest, they elude us. Yes, there are good moments. But the anxious moments – they just seem more frequent and because of that faith is hard. It is so easy to lose heart.

In tonight’s Gospel Luke does us a huge favor. He tells us the point of Jesus’ parable before he even tells us what the parable is. “Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and to not lose heart.” Jesus knows that faith is hard. In fact, a few verses before telling this parable this is what Jesus says: “The days are coming when you will long to see the days of the Son of Man, and you will not see it.” You know that confidence, security and joy that eludes us? They’ll overflow in “the days of the Son of Man” – which is a reference to Jesus’ return when He’ll fully establish the Kingdom of God. God knows we long to see those days! But let’s be honest, right now we don’t see it and because of that faith is hard. According to Luke that’s exactly why Jesus tells tonight’s parable. He wants us to keep praying and to not lose heart.

And so if someone asks you the point of tonight’s sermon you now know what to say; the point is to pray always and to not lose heart. Great, you may wonder, but how do we do that? Well, I’d like to give us three images – not three steps; that’s not how faith words – but three images. I’d like to give us three images that speak to (1) who we are, (2) to who God is, and finally, (3) to what God’s done.

First, we have to know who we are; you and I are widows. Second, we have to know what God’s like; that is, the character of the world’s true judge. Third – and to me this is crucial – we have to know the verdict. To keep praying and not lose heart, we need to see ourselves, we need to see God, and we need to see the verdict.

First, we have to see ourselves as widows. There’s a reason this parable is about a widow and not someone else. In Jesus’ day widows were the weakest and most dependent members of society. You see, in Jesus’ world women that weren’t married had no protection. They were dependent on others to provide for their needs. In other words, widows are the perfect symbol of all that is weak, dependent, and powerless – that is unless someone intervenes and shows them mercy.

Now, you and I – I’m not sure we like this idea that we’re weak, dependent and powerless. Our culture would have us believe it’s better to die than to beg. The moment we begin to sense we’re not in control, we panic. But God – God invites us to love the fact that we’re not in control, to love the fact that we’re beggars. In fact, Paul wrote II Corinthians to respond to charges that he was a powerless and dependent wimp. Apparently, the Corinthians were watching other preachers – preachers that were strong and eloquent and who boasted about how great they were. But Paul – well, he was awkward, and apparently not the best preacher, and so listen to how Paul responds to the criticism. “I too will boast.” In other words, if other preachers are boasting then I’ll boast too. “I will boast … of my weaknesses” he says, “so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. I’m content with weakness, hardship, calamities and persecutions for the sake of Christ. For whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” Why do confidence, security and joy always seem to elude us? I’ll tell you why. These are gifts God gives to beggars. To pray always and not lose heart we have to see ourselves as widows.

But knowing we’re weak isn’t enough; we have to see the character of our judge. The judge in Jesus’ parable – he’s a horrible person. He’s selfish, corrupt, and doesn’t care at all for the widow. He doesn’t go to church or give money to Salvation Army. He’s a complete caricature of man worthy of the title “your honor.” Jesus’ point? God. Is. Not. Like. That.

A lot of us lose heart because we forget who God is. Now, we’d never say this, but deep down we’re all a little scared that God’s like that judge – removed, distant, and annoyed by widows like us who need God’s justice, and for Jesus justice is about restoration. Justice happens when the needy are clothed and the empty are filled and when sad people are given a reason to smile. The good news of the Christian Gospel is that this is exactly what Jesus came to do – establish justice on this earth. But, it’s a justice we’re still waiting for. We long to see the days of the Son of Man but we don’t yet see it.

There’s this great scene in the Lord of the Rings where Sam discovers that Gandalf is still alive. “I thought you were dead!” He screams. And listen to what Sam asks next. “Is everything sad going to come untrue?” Is everything sad going to come untrue? Jesus has a clear answer to Sam’s question. Yes. God is not like that judge. He cares. He sees. He knows. God is not like that judge. He’s not going to delay a second longer than He has to before He comes to bring justice to this world. The true judge of this world is so kind and so compassionate and so good. We have to see the character of the world’s true judge.

Now, there’s one more piece. To pray always and not lose heart we have to know the verdict. I said earlier there’s a reason this parable is about a widow. There’s also a reason it’s about a judge and just happens to take place in a courtroom. You see in the Bible the courtroom is a metaphor for Judgment Day, and in the Old Testament it’s not really an uplifting metaphor. I mean, just think about tonight’s reading from Jeremiah. “It will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors,” he says, “when I took them by the hand to … the land of Egypt – a covenant that they broke.” In other words, God takes our hand. Saves us. God makes a covenant with us. But we – we broke it. In the Old Testament – or the old covenant – God’s people are on trial and the verdict is guilty. Judgment – that’s what the courtroom symbolizes in the Old Testament. Now, what’s significant is that Jesus tells this parable the week before he dies, and when he does so, he’s well aware of the trial that awaits him. And so we have to ask, why would Jesus allow himself to be tried if he knew that he would be found guilty?

The answer is that Jesus believed that his death would establish the new covenant that Jeremiah was talking about. There can be no doubt about it, Jesus had Jeremiah’s vision memorized. On the cross that vision became a reality. To quote Jeremiah again, he would “forgive our iniquity and remember our sin no more.” Jesus’ death would establish a new covenant, and it would not be like the old one. The verdict of guilty – it wouldn’t be taken away. But it would be transferred. It would not be heard by the people of God. No, the gavel would come down on the Son of God. Yes, there’d still be a trial. But Jesus himself would stand in as the defendant. He would be questioned. He’d be found guilty. He would be punished. And we – the widow – would get justice. What was lost in Eden would finally be restored.

We have to know the verdict. At the most basic level this parable is about a judge that finds in someone’s favor, which is the very definition of the word justification. Justification happens when a judge finds in someone’s favor at the end of the case. Now, I know we all make mistakes. Day after day we heap up plenty of evidence to suggest that we’re guilty. It is so easy to lose heart and to think that God’s gavel will eventually come down on us. But according to the Gospel, guilty is not our verdict. You see when we come to Jesus the first thing he tells us is that our case was closed at Calvary. Jesus stood in our place. And so if there is a file in heaven labeled “Newton” that has a list of all my sins, it’s covered with dust and has a label that reads case closed. That is the verdict. The new covenant. The reason that everything sad will come untrue. God intervened to show us mercy. And so have faith. Believe the Gospel. Live in this world with hope.

Do you long to see the days of the Son of Man? You will. And so pray always and don’t lose heart.

Healing (the prayer of faith) -- OMEGA

2010-10-15T12:19:00.001-07:00

Our series on prayer continues and tonight we come to what is known as “healing prayer.” And of all the different types of prayer we’re discussing this is probably where a lot of us might get uncomfortable, and for good reason. There’s a lot of ambiguity and uncertainty that surrounds healing prayer. After all, not everyone is healed, and even for those who are, their restored health is relatively short-lived. For example, consider the raising of Lazarus in John chapter 11. Lazarus has been dead for four days and Jesus calls him out of the tomb. “Lazarus, come out!” Jesus says. And Lazarus miraculously comes to life, leaving his tomb – at least for a couple more years because eventually Lazarus gets sick, dies, and he’s put back in that exact same tomb.

And so let me begin laying out a theology of healing prayer by saying this – the Bible tells us that at the end of time God will heal everything that is broken on this earth – the earth we now inhabit. In other words, end-time salvation involves a healing of the physical universe, which obviously includes our bodies. And so when Jesus was resurrected from the dead, He wasn’t a disembodied spirit or a heavenly ghost. He was a resurrected person. It was Jesus’ new, resurrected, and healed body that ascended into heaven to be with the Father – not just Jesus’ spirit.

Now, there’s a reason we have to understand this. Far too often we forget that God cares for the body just as much as He does for the soul. We forget that the redemption we have in Christ is complete, that it involves every aspect of who we are – our soul, our mind, our will, our spirit, and of course our body. What this means is that whenever we pray for bodily healing what we’re asking is for God’s future healing to break into our present lives.

Now, what I want us to see is that this in-breaking of God’s future healing is something that should be happening in every single one of us from a spiritual perspective. For example, consider the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. As Christians, these are virtues we should all be growing in. But do you see what’s happening when we grow in love and joy and peace? God’s future – where love, joy, and peace are all normal realities – is breaking into our present lives. And because of that, growing in the fruit of the Spirit is nothing less than the healing of our Spirit. Praying for physical healing, therefore, is the other side of this same coin. In both cases, God’s future healing is breaking into our present lives through the power of His Spirit.

I think the Gospel of John captures this idea pretty well. In the Gospel of John, the word miracle is never used to describe Jesus healing someone. Instead, John uses the word sign to describe physical healing. John wants us to see that physical healing, when it does happen, is a sign. Why? Because a sign’s primary function is to point to something else. In other words, what John is trying to say is that anytime Jesus heals someone it’s a sign – that the purpose of healing is to point people to God’s future Kingdom where the entire creation will be healed. In other words, no one is ever physically healed just for the sake of being physically headed. Remember, Lazarus was healed – but all that did was prolong his death. And so any healing we experience now is always intended to point to that future healing that awaits all of God’s people. Now with that in mind, let’s take a look at what James says about healing prayer.

James 5: 13-16

Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.

Now, there’s a lot about this passage that interests me. For example, notice James’ question – “are any among you sick? They should call the elders and have them pray.” Did you notice how confidently and quickly James answers his own question? What this tells me is that James flat out assumes that the church he’s writing to has a ministry of healing prayer. James expects healing to be a part of the church’s life; otherwise he would have explained himself a bit more. The tone of the letter makes this clear. It’d be like me saying, “are any among you sick? They should go to the doctor.” I’d be speaking in a tone that assumes doctors can heal sick people, and so if you were to respond, “doctor – why would I go to a doctor?” it’d be an incredibly strange thing to say. Because in our world we all believe that healing happens when doctors go to work. But in James’ world they all believed that healing happened when the church got together and prayed for God to go to work. Healing, in James’ world, was just assumed as something God would do every now and again.

Now, does this imply that healing prayer should replace medicine? Of course not. James tells the elders to anoint the sick with oil. In Jesus’ day oil was used for the soothing of the body and the softening of the wounds. In other words, oil was medicine. And so at the very least, this passage tells us that healing prayer isn’t supposed to replace medicine – it’s supposed to supplement medicine. According to Richard Foster, “There may be times when God asks us to rely upon prayer alone for healing, but this is the exception, not the rule. The refusal to use medical means to promote healing may be a gesture of faith – but more often than not it is a gesture of spiritual pride.” (Prayer, 204) In other words, medical science – like all science – is a gift. And healing prayer doesn’t reject that gift.

Now that being said, what does healing prayer require? I’d like to focus my attention on two things: the prayer of faith and the confession of sin. “The prayer of faith will save the sick,” James says, “and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.” And so let’s look at these.

1. The prayer of faith

James says that the “prayer of faith” will save the sick. What exactly is James saying? Well, I’ll tell you what he’s not saying. James isn’t saying that for someone to be healed they can’t have any doubts, or worse – that if someone isn’t healed its their fault. “They just didn’t have enough faith.” It’s called the prayer of faith; not the prayer of certainty. You may recall, there’s this great scene in the Gospel of Mark where a man asks Jesus to heal his son and Jesus responds, “All things are possible for those who believe.” And the man then says something profound. “Lord I do believe, but help thou my unbelief.” In other words, “I believe – kind of. But, please heal my son anyway.” And Jesus does. And so the prayer of faith isn’t a prayer of certainty. And so what is it?

The prayer of faith is a very specific and direct request. Sometimes we don’t know how to pray for people and so we just “lift them up to God.” “Lord,” we say, “I don’t know what this person needs but you do.” But the prayer of faith that James mentions is different – it presumes to know exactly what’s needed. If the person suffers from migraines, the prayer of faith isn’t “thy will be done.” No, the prayer of faith presumes to know God’s will. We ask for the migraines to be removed.

This is what Richard Foster says about the prayer of faith. “As we come to clearness about what is needed, we invite God’s healing to come. We speak a definite, straightforward declaration of what is to be. We do not weaken our request with ifs, ands, or buts. [Instead] we speak with boldness.” (Prayer, 211) The prayer of faith, then, is a bold request for our Father in heaven to bring His future healing into the present in a very specific way.

2. The confession of sin

Now, you’re probably wondering – what does sin have to do with sickness? And the answer is everything. Now, don’t misunderstand me – I’m not saying that physical illness results from personal sin. That was actually the predominant view in Jesus’ day and Jesus firmly rejected it. But, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection between spiritual sickness – or sin – and physical sickness. Remember, the redemption we have in Christ is total and complete. Our body is not the decaying prison-house of our soul, as Plato argued. Salvation isn’t about escaping the body. Salvation is about God restoring and healing the body. And so our body isn’t a prison-house but a temple – a temple that God wants to restore so that He can fill it with His own life. And so there is a strong connection between the healing of our body and the healing of our spirit.

Now, this is a dangerous point I’m trying to make, and it’s easily misunderstood, and so I’m going to leave the realm of theology and appeal to medicine and social science. Does anyone know what a psychosomatic illness is? Psychosomatic illnesses begin in our minds and our emotions – with anger, fear, stress, and grudges – things like that. In other words, they begin with sin. Psychosomatic illness is what happens when these harmful, spiritual realities overflow into our body. And so perpetual anxiety and fear can become an ulcer. Chronic stress can turn into migraines. Psychosomatic illness – that means it’s all in your mind, right? No, it’s all in your kidney. It just starts in your mind.

Now, medically speaking, what I’m saying isn’t very controversial. And please don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting that all sickness – or even most sickness – is fueled by emotional problems, i.e., by sins that need to be dealt with. But I am suggesting that the relationship is much stronger than we think, and I’m proposing that all physical healing needs to be accompanied by spiritual healing. Of course, Jesus taught the exact same thing. More often than not before he’d heal someone physically Jesus would say something like, “Your sins are forgiven you.” Physical healing and spiritual healing go together, and that is why James tells people seeking physical healing to first confess their sins.

This is what the late Ed Friedman – a famous family systems psychologist – observed regarding the connection between our emotional or spiritual health and our physical health. “Whenever I develop [physical] symptoms,” he said, “I know that I’ve been lying to myself.” (Failure of Nerve, 223) Wow. In another book Friedman says this. “New discoveries in medicine have laid the groundwork for understanding the emotional … aspects of physical illness, and have thus diminished the notion that individuals are simply “victims” of disease. It is no metaphysical leap to say that the care of our soul [will] affect the overall health of our body.” (Generation to Generation, 123 & 129) Now, Friedman wasn’t a Christian. He wasn’t using the Book of James to develop an alternate theory of physical healing. Friedman was merely recording what he observed over forty years of professional work – that a correlation sometimes exists between spiritual sickness and physical sickness.

And so before we ask for physical healing we need to do a moral inventory and see sickness as an opportunity to repent, i.e., to renew our relationship with God – to look for areas in our life where we’re not obeying God and to confess that disobedience not only to God but also to someone else. You see the beauty of sickness is that it lays bare the truth of our spiritual condition – namely that we’re weak, vulnerable and dependent creatures who need God for absolutely everything. And when we’re healthy that truth is never something we seem to appreciate. When we’re healthy we feel like we can do anything. We feel great. We’re in control. We’re masters of our destiny. But then we get the flu. Or our back just gives out. And in these moments of utter dependence we are forced to see the truth – the truth that we are feeble creatures in desperate need of the healing that only God can give.

The week I outlined this talk I received an email telling me that a member of All Saints – someone I care about – had cancer. And the immediate response, not on my part but on the part of her small group, was to ask me to put together a healing service. And so on a Thursday night in the middle of August eight of us gathered to pray for her healing. We read the Gospel. We celebrated the Eucharist. We laid hands on this woman and we prayed the prayer of faith. And we were bold. We asked God to take away the cancer. We asked God to give her a radical and powerful experience of His grace and His love. We asked God to bless the doctors and that her treatment would be effective. I have to say, this was an incredibly powerful prayer service because what we all experienced that night was the church being the church – gathering together in the name of our Lord for no other purpose than to cry out for healing. This is the Scripture we read that night.

Revelation 21: 2-5

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them;  he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’

Let us never forget that all healing on this earth, whether physical or spiritual, is a sign – a pointer – to the great healing that awaits us all, where death and crying and pain will all be a thing of the past. Now, I know that there’s a lot of ambiguity and uncertainty that surrounds healing prayer, but at the same time in the early church healing was just a given – something James assumed would be happening in the Christian community that he wrote to. The question I leave us with tonight is this –have we stopped assuming that healing should be happening in ours?

praise (hallowing God’s name) -- OMEGA

2010-10-07T09:40:00.000-07:00

I want to begin by acknowledging something that’s true for each and every one of us. We all want to be praised. We want to be known, acknowledged, appreciated, loved and celebrated. It doesn’t matter who we are or from what culture we come, we all want to be praised. For example, think of a child. The most repeated phrase of any child is “look at me! Look at me!” And it doesn’t matter what they’re doing – riding their bike or going down a slide. Kids want to be seen, to be noticed, to be praised. A desire to be praised is just built into our DNA.

Of course, the problem is that we grow up and we let that desire rule us. We all have that friend – everything always seems to be about them; about what they’re doing and what they’ve accomplished and about how awesome they are. And we have a saying for people like that. We say they’re “full of themselves.” Now let me ask you this – is being full of ourselves a good thing? Of course not.

Before CS Lewis became a Christian he was really bothered by the idea that God wanted praise. Like us, Lewis didn’t care much for people who were always seeking compliments and praise. And so Lewis wondered – if God is perfect then why does He insist on being praised? Does God need praise to feel good about Himself? Does He have low self-esteem? That’s what CS Lewis wanted to know. Well, before we answer Lewis’ question let’s look at what Jesus says about praise.

Matthew 6: 5-6, 9

Whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Pray then in this way. Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.

Now on the surface this passage seems pretty straightforward but if we’re willing to dig we’ll answer four incredibly important questions about what it means to praise God.

1. What is praise?
2. Why is praising God necessary?
3. Why is praising God primary?
4. How does praise work? In other words, how do we do it?

Once again, Jesus teaches us (1) what praise is, (2) why it’s necessary, (3) why it needs to come first in our prayer life, and finally (4) how we do it.

(1) And so what exactly is praise?

Well Jesus’ definition of praise is captured in the phrase “hallowed be your name.” Jesus says we’re supposed to hallow God’s name. Now, this isn’t a word we use very often. Does anyone know what it means? To hallow something means to treat it as absolutely sacred. In other words, whatever we hallow is our ultimate concern – the most crucial and sacred thing in our life.

And so what does this tell us about praising God? That to praise God means to make Him our ultimate concern. In other words, when we treat our relationship with God as absolutely sacred, praise is just what happens. And so perhaps a better word is adoration. According to Richard Foster, “Adoration is the spontaneous yearning of the heart to worship, honor, magnify, and bless God. In adoration … we ask for nothing but to cherish Him. We seek nothing but His exaltation. We focus on nothing but His goodness.” (Prayer, 81) To praise God is to make Him our ultimate concern.

(2) Why is praising God necessary?

Well, let’s rule out the possibility that God has low self-esteem and needs a little ego boost. The reason praising God is necessary is because we all praise something, we all hallow something. Remember, to hallow something means to treat it as absolutely sacred, it means to make something our ultimate concern. And what we have to understand is this – that’s something we all do. In fact, hallowing is something we have to do. What we hallow gives direction to our life. What we hallow motivates us. We literally cannot live unless we hallow something.

Look at the people Jesus criticizes in tonight’s Bible reading – people who love to stand and pray in public places in order to be seen. What they hallow, Jesus says, is their spiritual reputation. That’s their ultimate concern – being known as a spiritual person. In other words, what they praise is the praise of other people. And according to Jesus, “They have received their reward.”

And so there’s a question we all have to ask ourselves – what do we hallow? Let me share with you a quote from one of my favorite celebrities. “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, 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.” Any guesses on who said that? Apparently, you don’t read Vogue. Madonna. Madonna’s ultimate concern is proving she’s special, proving she’s praiseworthy, proving that she’s not just mediocre. “Even though I’ve become somebody,” she says, “I still have to prove I’m somebody.” What Madonna hallows is proving to the world that she matters – that’s where all of her praise is centered.

I think more than anything this quote captures why praising God is necessary. We all praise something. We all make something our ultimate concern. But if it’s the wrong thing we’ll find ourselves in a struggle, a struggle that deep down we know will never end.

Only praising God will end the struggle because one of the first things we see when we learn to praise God is that we don’t have to prove anything to anyone. No, it’s God who proves His love for us – that’s why He alone is praiseworthy. And the good news is that praising God is something we can learn. In fact it’s something we have to learn to flourish as human beings. But, we can’t learn to praise God until we’re honest about what we praise now. And according to Jesus, the key to knowing what we hallow has to do with what Jesus calls being “in secret.” William Temple once remarked, “Your religion is what you do with your solitude.” And so let me ask you this – when there’s nothing you have to do where do your thoughts go? What do you day dream about? Answering that question will tell us a great deal about the thing we most adore. And it can be anything – success, comfort, approval, family. What do we worry about? What do we think about? In the secrecy of our hearts what do we value? Anything can become an ultimate concern. And so what I want us to see is that praise is something we all do really well. Our challenge isn’t to learn how to praise. It’s to learn how to transfer our praise from whatever it’s on now to God.

(3) Why is praising God primary?

It’s incredibly significant that Jesus’ teaching on prayer begins with “hallowed by your name.” In other words, before we confess our sins or ask for daily bread Jesus tells us to begin our prayer by praising God. Why?

Jesus knows that the bulk of our problems are problems of adoration. Adoring the wrong thing throws our life out of balance. After all, what we hallow motivates and fuels our life and because of that what we praise completely controls our view of our self, our view of God and our view of the world. And so when we hallow things more than God our perspective on life gets distorted.

One of my favorite preachers tells the story of a dad who takes his little girl to the candy store. “Sweetie,” he says, “do you see all this candy? Doesn’t it look good? You’d like some of this candy wouldn’t you?” And of course this girl goes crazy – there’s nothing she wants more. But instead of giving her the candy, her dad grabs her by the wrist, drags her out of the store and yells at her, “Forget it. You can’t have any candy! In fact as long as I’m alive I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you never get your hands on this candy – ever!”

Now obviously, this is a cruel Father. But I tell the story because I think it sheds some light on why we have a hard time praising God. I think that deep within us is a fear – a fear that God’s like that dad. I think deep down we’re all scared that God gives us deep desires, that He waves the candy in front of our face and then just snags it away for no reason. I mean have you ever had your heart set on something or prayed for something only to be devastated that you didn’t get it? Have you ever been crushed and left wondering – seriously God, what was the point? Do you know what’s behind that question? A fear that God isn’t good.

Think about how the Bible begins. Adam and Eve are in a garden and God says, “It’s all yours. Eat whatever you want. Just one rule – you need to stay away from the tree of knowledge because that tree’s bad for you.” But then the serpent comes along and he begins spreading lies. “God is holding back. If God really loved you, if God were really good, He’d let you eat that fruit.” And do you know what happened in that moment? Adam and Eve’s praise shifted – what they hallowed shifted – from God to the fruit. And in that moment a great lie entered the human heart – the lie that says because God withholds things from us He cannot be good. And if we believe that lie it’s going to distort our view of God, it’s going to distort our view of our self and it’s going to distort our view of the world. You see, there’s only one thing that can heal the lie. Praise. Making God our ultimate concern. Hallowing His name above all else. Seeing Him in all of His goodness – only praise will heal the lie.

(4) How do we praise?

Well, think about how the Lord’s Prayer begins. “Our Father, who art in heaven.” Question – which one is it? Is God our Father – close, tender, caring, and intimately involved our lives? Or is God in heaven – holy, totally Other and different, a God of justice who rules the world with wisdom and power, who looks at the Sun and sees a marble? Do you see where I’m trying to go with this? We pray this prayer so much we miss the miracle and the paradox of what Jesus is saying – that God is both Holy and powerful and yet at the same time that He wants to be our Father. To the extent that this amazing reality sinks in, praise will be the most natural thing in the world.

But the reality is, praising God is not the most natural thing in the world, which means that praise is something we need to learn. And to learn to praise God we need to name two things that get in our way.

First, inattention keeps us from praising God. Life is hectic. It moves fast and it’s really easy to get caught up in our activities – school and family and friends and church and social obligations. And so learning to praise God requires slowing down and making time to pay attention to God. Or, in order to grow we need to slow. We need to read the Scriptures. We need to spend time in creation. Simply put, we can’t praise something if we can’t see it and so we need to pay attention.

Second, misplaced attention keeps us from praising God. If we’re bent on making something other than God our ultimate concern – our job or status or a certain relationship – we’ll never learn to praise God or anything else for that matter. The irony is that we can only learn to praise or value another person if we’re committed to praising God first. Perhaps you’ve been in a relationship where you felt smothered. And do you know why you felt smothered? Because no human relationship can bear the burden of God-hood. If someone ever makes you their ultimate praise please be careful. It’s not going to end well for either one of you.

And so if you want to learn to praise God this is where I’d start. Make two lists. On the first list, write down God’s attributes that you find appealing. For example, words like loving and merciful and holy and perfect might be on list #1. On the second list, write down what God has done for you. He created you. He gave you a certain amount of intelligence. He’s given you the gift of faith that saves you from sin and death. He’s promised to restore our world. Just make a list. Then, read your two lists to God and say amen. Will this feel clumsy and awkward? No doubt. But do it in secret. And trust me, what seems silly to you will ravish the heart of God. Like Augustine said, “God thirsts to be thirsted after.”

And so let me end by saying this. We all want to be praised. We want to be known, acknowledged, appreciated, loved and celebrated. It doesn’t matter who we are or from what culture we come, we all want to be praised. Just so you know – that’s a good thing. God created us to be praised, celebrated, appreciated and loved. And so just as important as the question “what do we praise” is the question “where are we seeking our praise?” Madonna – she wants if from you. She’s going to work really hard to make sure you don’t think she’s mediocre. Others – they want praise from their peers or their spouse or their parents. But what about us? Where are we seeking our praise?

You see the miracle of the Christian Gospel is that God praises us. We don’t deserve it. We don’t earn it. But God genuinely delights in us because of what Christ has done for us. By living the life we should have lived and dying the death we should have died, Jesus gave us His record and His obedience so that when we put our trust in Him we don’t just have the Father’s acceptance. We have His applause. His praise.

And so if any of you are trying to live a good life in order to get God’s praise do me a favor and stop right now. Instead, ponder the great miracle that in Christ you already have God’s praise. God’s applause.

And so back to our question – why does God want our praise? Because praising God puts an end to the struggle. You see God knows that we only really have two options. We can either be full of ourselves or we can be full of God. Praising God is all about being full of Him and to be full of God is to be full of life.

intercessory prayer (praying for others) -- OMEGA

2010-09-30T05:58:00.000-07:00

Not all prayer should be for our selves. To pray only for ourselves – whether it’s confessing our sins or presenting our requests or praising God for what He’s done in our lives – is selfish. Sure, it’s spiritual selfishness. But it’s still selfishness nonetheless.

Last week we said that the primary purpose of prayer isn’t to change things but to change ___ (us). Well, part of what needs to change is our selfish nature and praying for other people will do that. Intercession is a way of loving people and it’s a way to serve people. Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls intercessory prayer a “purifying bath.” Why? Because in praying for others we slowly scrub away the ingrained self-centeredness that keeps us from being like Jesus. And so tonight I want to ask three questions.

1. What is intercessory prayer?
2. What are the benefits of intercessory prayer?
3. How can we intercede for others?

But first I want to read a passage from Exodus, because it’s going to help us answer those three questions. Intercessory Prayer – what is it? What are the benefits? How do we do it?

Exodus 17: 8-13

Then Amalek came and fought with Israel. Moses said to Joshua, ‘Choose some men for us and go out and fight. Tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the staff of God in my hand.’ So Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed; and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands grew weary; so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; so his hands were steady until the sun set. And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people.

On the surface this is a pretty strange story but the implications for intercessory prayer are pretty profound I think. The Israelites are in the wilderness and the Amalekites attack. Well, Moses – he’s the leader and because of that he’s the one that’s got to choose the military strategy, which I think can be summed up like this. “Joshua – you fight and I’ll pray.” You see Moses understood that behind this earthly conflict was a spiritual one and that only by lifting his hands in prayer could the battle be won. And here’s what’s amazing – the Bible is suggesting that Moses had the harder task. After all, Aaron and Hur had to hold his arms up. In other words, Moses’ job was more important than Joshua’s.

Now, when all was said and done who do you think got the credit? Joshua – after all, he was the one leading the charge. People probably started spreading rumors about Moses being a coward. But what the Bible suggests is that the real work was happening behind the scenes – where Moses and Aaron and Hur were interceding on Israel’s behalf. It was their work and not Joshua’s that determined the outcome of the battle.

Now what Moses and Aaron and Hur did for Israel is something all of us are called to do for each other and for our world. Not all of us are going to be on the front lines – visible, celebrated, “public leaders” so to speak. But we are all called to intercessory prayer. Behind every earthly conflict is a spiritual one and God invites each of us to partner with Him in His victory over sin, evil and death. And so with that in mind …

(1) What is intercessory prayer?

The best definition that I’ve ever heard is “longing for what’s best for someone before God” (Keller). Intercessory prayer isn’t about us – our needs, our sins, things we’re thankful for. No, in intercessory prayer we bring before God what we think is best for someone else.

Whenever we intercede for someone we do the work of a priest – we go to God on behalf of someone else. Whenever we intercede we act as a mediator. A go-between. Think of Moses – where does he pray? Moses intercedes from the top of a mountain, which is symbolic for being between heaven and earth. Moses places himself between the people of Israel and God and he raises His staff in prayer. That’s kind of what intercessory prayer is like, only the image is somewhat flawed because in Christ we’re not just standing on a mountain – no we get to walk straight to the throne of God.

And in interceding for someone I find it helpful to know three things –their needs, their flaws, and their strengths. I want to know a person’s needs so that I can ask God to meet them. I want to know a person’s flaws so that I can ask God to remove them – to change unhealthy heart patterns that keep them from becoming the person God wants them to be. And most importantly, I want to know a person’s strengths so that I can thank God for that person. Each one of us is a living, breathing miracle – far too often we forget that. That’s something we need to celebrate before God. But either way, in intercessory prayer we approach God and we “long for what’s best” for someone else.

Now, before moving on there’s something I want us to see. Intercession is something we all do on a human level. For example – let’s say Prescott Jefferson III wants to go to Harvard Law but he’s got a 2.7 GPA and he majored in frat. But lucky for him his dad’s best friend is head of admissions. He talks to his dad, his dad talks to the dean, Prescott goes to Harvard. His dad interceded on his behalf. Or perhaps something a bit more common – you don’t have tickets for next weekend’s game but your best friend’s roommate does. “Will you talk to him for me? I can only pay face value but I really want to go.” The only reason you got to go to the game was because your best friend interceded for you. Now in Christ, each one of us has access to the God of the Universe – a God that’s infinitely rich, a God that calls us his child and essentially says, “Ask me for whatever you want.”

(2) What are the benefits of intercessory prayer?

Ok, you might be thinking – that’s great but isn’t God just going to do what God’s going to do? What are the benefits of intercessory prayer? In other words, why do it? I’ll give us three good reasons. Intercessory prayer changes things, it changes relationships, and finally it changes us.

Intercessory Prayer changes things

What I’m about to tell you is very mysterious – prayer changes things without changing God’s plans. Now wait a second, you’re thinking, it’s got to be one or the other. No it doesn’t. We’re dealing with God and God’s ways are beyond anything we can understand. Prayer doesn’t change God. That’s part of what it means for God to be Sovereign. But, prayer does change things, circumstances, and people.

There’s a famous verse in the Book of James that says, “You have not because you ask not.” Think about that reading from Exodus. When Moses held up his hand in prayer Israel won the battle but when he dropped it – when Moses stopped interceding – the Israelites would lose. The author’s point is pretty clear – it matters whether or not we pray.

You see, whenever we pray for people we bring the mysterious power of God into their lives. Prayer may have psychological benefits but it’s not just a psychological exorcise. A lot of good things don’t happen because God’s people don’t pray. It’s like James says – we have not because we ask not. And so the first benefit of intercessory prayer is this– it changes things, circumstances and people for the better.

Intercessory Prayer changes relationships

There’s no getting around it, I’m a better Christian when I’m praying for the people I’m around. I’m more aware of their needs. After all, I’ve thought about them enough to bring them to God. I’m more aware of their flaws. I’ve been asking God to work on their hearts and so (a) I see it coming (whatever “it” is that bothers me about them) and (b) I want to be part of the solution – not part of the problem. And so I’m a lot more patient and a lot less irritable. And finally I’m more aware of their strengths. I’ve been thanking God for their faith or their humility or whatever gift they have that I know blesses other people. When we pray from someone our concern for them grows, our love for them grows. Why do you think Jesus told us to intercede for our enemies – because Jesus knew that in praying for them we’d eventually come to love them.

And so if there’s someone in your life that you’re angry with right now or if you’re holding a grudge, I’ll be bold – I know that you haven’t been actively interceding for that person. Why? Because when we think deeply about someone’s needs and flaws and strengths and pray for them God softens our heart. Prayer strengthens our relationships.

Intercessory Prayer changes us

Intercessory prayer is behind the scenes, servant ministry. Going back to Exodus, Joshua got credit for winning the battle but it was Moses – the man praying behind the scenes – who secured the victory for Israel. And intercessory prayer is really hard work precisely because it’s by nature behind the scene work. In other words, we’re not going to get any credit for the way our prayers bless the life of someone else. But here’s what we have to see – that’s the essence of holiness. That’s what it means to be like Christ. To long for the good of others is the essence of holiness. Or to put it differently, nothing will make you more like Christ than to long for the Christ-likeness of someone else.

I’ll be honest – meditating on scripture, praying for my own needs, praising God for what He’s done in my life – I find that easy and enjoyable. Why? Because it’s all about me. It’s all about my growth and my peace. And of course that’s good – I should be concerned with my own spiritual walk. But, we’re going to get stuck in the process of our sanctification – which is just a fancy theological word for the process by which God conforms our heart to His – we’ll get stuck in the process of our sanctification until we begin longing and praying for the sanctification of other people. Nothing makes us more like Jesus than longing for others to be like Jesus.

And so to recap – what are the benefits of intercessory prayer? It changes things. It changes relationships. It changes us.

(3) How can we intercede for others?

First, we need to intercede for others by ourselves. A portion of our personal prayer time with God needs to be designated for praying for other people. If we don’t yet have a personal, disciplined prayer time, well that’s something we need to consider. But we need to make a habit of praying for other people. And for reasons already mentioned, intercession is mentally tough work. It requires heavy thinking and because of our limitations we can’t pray for everyone. It can be draining to think about someone else’s needs and flaws and strengths. And so lesson #1 – don’t overdo it. Like Moses eventually our arm gets tired and if we try holding it up too long we’ll pull a spiritual muscle.

But let me give you two methods I find helpful. First, because I read Scripture in the morning I make a list of all the people that come to my mind as I read the Bible and then when I’m done I pray for them. Some people are on my list every day. Some people asked me to pray for them earlier in the week. Some people just pop into my head. Whether it’s a coincidence or the Spirit, I pray for them. Second, I call this the “Google calendar” method. I look at my calendar for the day and I pray for whoever’s on it. This method also works at night praying for the people you spent time with that day.

Second, we need to intercede for others with others. Is Jesus with us when we pray alone? Of course. But He also went out of His way to say, “whenever two or three gather together in my name I’m going to be there, too.” And so in a way that’s kind of mysterious, Jesus is present in a deeper and more powerful way when we pray with other Christians. I’m not saying you have to join a prayer group. But I will challenge you to think about it. And I’ll also tell you that my spiritual life is much richer for being a part of one. This is what Richard Foster says about Christians interceding together:

“It is God’s desire to bring individuals and families into saving faith. It is God’s desire to bring people off of addictions to drugs, sex, money and status. It is God’s desire to deliver people from racism, sexism, nationalism and consumerism. Organized, corporate intercessory prayer is a crucial means for the fulfillment of these yearnings in the heart of God.” (Prayer, 199)

We need to pray for others with others. Moses wasn’t strong enough to hold up that staff by himself. And neither are we.

Now, a final word before we break for small groups. If we begin praying with persistence and passion we’re going to run up against the problem of unanswered prayer. And here’s what I want to say about that. The night I wrote this talk I spent two hours babysitting my nine-month-old goddaughter. Over the course of those two hours she tried to stick her slobbery fingers into an electric socket, eat a knife sitting on the coffee table, and crawl down the stairs by herself. Those were her “prayers” so to speak – the deepest desires of her heart. In not letting her do those things I wasn’t trying to tell her I didn’t love her. I was trying to show her that I did.

And so whether it’s for our self or for someone else, sometimes we pray for things that aren’t granted not because God isn’t good but precisely because He is. We may think our greatest need in life is eat that knife but it’s not. And so let me say this – when we’re faithful in prayer and persistent in prayer and intentional about prayer God always gives us and the people for whom we pray that which is best under the circumstances. And sometimes that means not intervening in people’s lives or allowing them to experience the result of their choices. But remember – God does that not because He isn’t good but precisely because He is.

Not all prayer should be for our selves – that’s spiritual selfishness. Remember our goal is to become more like Jesus and nothing will make us more like Christ than longing for the Christ-likeness of someone else.

true religion

2010-09-27T08:15:00.000-07:00

The Pharisees, who were lovers of money, heard all this, and they ridiculed him. So he said to them, ‘You are those who justify yourselves in the sight of others; but God knows your hearts; for what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God. There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” He said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” ’

I’d like to begin today’s sermon by asking you a question: What is our religion? Now, this sounds like a foolish question, right? After all, we sing Christian hymns. We recite Christian creeds. We break bread in the name of Jesus Christ. But if my question surprises you, know that it’s anything but foolish to dare to sincerely name our religion. Allow me to explain. The word religion is derived from the Latin verb ligare – which means to bind or connect. Our religion, simply put, is what we rely on, whatever we trust to make us feel secure. To practice the right religion is to root ourselves in reality. To practice the wrong religion is to chase after something that isn’t even real. And so when I ask “what is our religion?” I’m really asking “what do we rely on? What have we bound or connected our hearts to?”

I spent the summer of 2006 working as a hospital chaplain. I’m forever haunted by the memory of the first patient I ever visited, a 91-year-old woman named Mary. I want to read you an excerpt from the report I was asked to write on my impression of Mary: “She is bitter, alone, and she trusts no one. Mary believes she has been hospitalized so that her family may spend her savings. Mary is intent upon the idea that she is an exploited victim of a greedy family. There is no person on earth that she loves or trusts. Not one.” If these words give you chills, listen to the words of Mary herself. “I hate my family. They mean nothing to me. I am here because they want my money. They want everything I’ve worked for. For themselves. They are dead to me.” Mary was deluded. Her heart was so bound and so connected to her stockpile of wealth that she was unable to cope with reality. Money was what Mary relied on, what she trusted to make her feel secure. Mary practiced the wrong religion.

Today’s story about Lazarus and the rich man was first addressed to the practitioners of a wrong religion. Jesus tells this parable to the Pharisees, who Luke tells us are “lovers of money.” Perhaps you recall how last week’s parable ended: “you cannot serve God and money.” The Pharisees’ response to this was to ridicule Jesus. The Pharisees mock Jesus’ words. You can’t serve God and money? Of course you can! You see for the Pharisees, money was the sure sign of God’s favor. People get rich when God is pleased with them, which means that poverty is a punishment –at least that is what they believed. And so when the Pharisees saw someone like Lazarus – starving for food, covered in sores, freezing and alone – they naturally assumed that God’s justice was at work. If Lazarus isn’t a sinner then his parents sure were! You see, the Pharisees sang all the right hymns, they recited all the right creeds, and they went through all the right rituals. But according to Jesus, they didn’t practice the right religion.

And so we have to wonder, what went wrong with the Pharisees? Well, the answer is simple. The Pharisees forgot their story. You see, God chose Israel because they were the smallest, the poorest, and the weakest. God chose Israel because they were slaves. God chose Israel because they longed to satisfy their hunger with the food that fell from Pharaoh’s table – who feasted sumptuously every day while they starved to death. For this reason God chose Israel and brought them to the land of Canaan, where God tells them in Deuteronomy: “open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.” In other words, I chose you because you were poor, and so you must love the poor. I chose you because you were needy, so you must love the needy. You see, the Pharisee’s problem was not with how they saw the poor, but with how they saw themselves. Forgetting that God chooses the poor, the Pharisees naturally lost sight of how poor they really were.

Now, the Pharisees don’t have the market cornered on being “lovers of money.” We live in a world that teaches us to rely, or to find security, in things with no power to save us. There is so much pressure to make our life a race in pursuit of something superficial – money just being the most obvious example. Is money bad? No. But to rely on money, to trust in money as the basis of our security – it’s the root of all evil. You see, for the rich, money provides the illusion that we are secure. For the poor, money creates the illusion that we could be secure if we just had more money. And let’s be honest – from time to time all of us are runners in society’s race to seek security outside the promises of God. We can all practice the wrong religion.

And so we have to wonder – when this does happen, what goes wrong with us? The answer is simple. We forget our story. The apostle Paul reminds us in his second letter to the Corinthians, “For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” In other words, God himself, the Source of all wealth, became poor. God himself, the Source of all life, tasted death. The God of our hymns, the God of our creeds, the God revealed in the bread we break was Himself broken, stripped naked, covered in sores, and starving for food. For us. You see our problem is not with how we see the poor, but with how we see ourselves. Do we honestly believe that we’re any better than the homeless man we’ll pass on our way to class tomorrow? If so, we’re not yet seeing the world through the lens of the cross. If so, we haven’t yet considered how far God had to go to reach us. If so, we do not understand how poor we really are.

The truth is there is not one person among us who can identify with Lazarus, and I thank God for that. There are many Lazarus’ in our world, and God cares deeply about every single one of them. On the other hand, we are not the rich man. No, as this parable comes to an end we have to realize that every single one of us stands in the place of his five brothers. Each of us has to write our own ending to this parable. But unlike the brothers, we have more than Moses and the prophets. Someone in fact has risen from the dead, and that Someone of our hymns, our creeds, and our communion invites us to step into reality, to practice true religion, to bind our hearts and to connect our souls to the Kingdom he came to proclaim.

So once again, what is our religion? Christianity is a religion of the cross. We cannot seek security in the cross of Christ and ignore the crosses of others. We cannot seek security in the God who became poor and ignore the poverty of others. We cannot seek security in Jesus and at the same time ignore Lazarus, for what we do to the least of Jesus’ brothers we do also to him. We practice the right religion when we root ourselves in the reality of the cross.

I’d like to end tonight’s sermon with a story. This story is about greyhounds, the kind that race around the track after that mechanical rabbit. The following is a conversation between a reporter and a successful greyhound that quits racing at the height of his career. Anyway, the conversation goes something like this:

The reporter says to the dog, Uh, you still racing any?
No, no, no, I don’t race anymore.
I bet you miss the glitter and the excitement of the track?
He said, no, not really.
So you got too old?
No, no, I still had some race in me.
So you must have not won enough races?
He said no, I won over a million dollars for my owner.
So, they treated you badly, that’s why you quit?
God no! They treated us like kings, as long as we were racing.
Then what, did you get injured?
He said, no, no.
I said, then what?
I quit.
You quit? Why on earth would you quit at the height of your career?

He said, I quit the day that I found out that what I was chasing was not really a rabbit. That’s when I quit. All that running, running, running, running, running, and that thing I was chasing, it wasn’t even real.

Meditation (spiritual brooding) -- OMEGA

2010-09-22T19:27:00.000-07:00

I’m fascinated by the miracle of a chicken’s birth. For a young chick to be born and to grow a mother hen has to sit on her eggs for days or even weeks, a process known as brooding. And when you watch this process the mother hen looks lazy. All she does is sit motionless and she seems to accomplish nothing. But in reality, something crucial is happening beneath the surface. The mother hen is incubating new life. Her brooding is actually breeding – the process through which new life emerges. (Packer)

Meditation, or spiritual brooding, is like that, too. It’s a long drawn-out process. It looks like we’re doing nothing. But in reality meditation is the process through which new spiritual life emerges. The spiritual process of brooding – thinking about Scripture, turning it over in our heads, allowing it to transform us from the inside out – is actually breeding. Spiritual brooding is spiritual breeding.

Tonight we’re going to ask three questions.

• Why is mediation, or spiritual brooding, important?
• What exactly is meditation?
• How do we meditate?

Why do it? What is it? How does it work?

(1) Why meditation is important

Well, the primary purpose of prayer isn’t to change other people or circumstances, though prayer certainly does both. In fact, prayer would be psychologically impossible if we thought it didn’t make a difference. But, the primary purpose of prayer isn’t to change things. It’s to change us. According to Richard Foster, “The primary purpose of prayer is to bring us into such a life of communion with the Father that, by the power of the Spirit, we are increasingly conformed to the image of His Son.” In other words, we pray to become more like Jesus, and that means moving past simple prayer. You see God doesn’t just want to be our Provider. He wants to be our Teacher and He wants to be our Friend. God wants us to learn the joy of obedience and that’s why we pray – to be like Jesus. Meditation, or spiritual brooding, is about sitting on the egg of Scripture – about setting our minds on Scripture – so that new spiritual life hatches and we’re changed from the inside out.

In other words we meditate because conversion is at the heart of Christianity. God may fully love us as we are, but God’s love won’t allow us to remain as we are. Why? Because, in the words of Switchfoot, “we were made to live for so much more.” Our God insists that our hearts be changed and yet we have absolutely no power to change them. And so we engage in spiritual brooding. We put ourselves in the presence of the Divine Physician and we ask Him to come do surgery.

Think of it like this. A sailboat won’t move until the wind comes. But at the same time, the wind won’t have any power until the sails are up and able to catch it. To meditate is to put up our spiritual sails so that when God does send the wind – which in the Bible is a metaphor for His Spirit – it will actually propel us forward.

And so becoming like Jesus, growing in Christ-likeness, this is central to Christianity. And it doesn’t matter how hard we try to change – to be kinder and more loving and less selfish – because if we rely on ourselves our hearts will never be touched. Our behavior might improve but we’ll probably become self-righteous and we definitely won’t feel joy. Real change is from the inside out. It happens when the Spirit moves our hearts. And because only God can change hearts, we need to come before Him and brood. We need to sit on the scriptures and allow new life to hatch.

(2) What is mediation?

Well, all great Christian thinkers for the past 2,000 years tell us that meditation is indispensable to growth; that not meditating on God’s Word is like a child needing vegetables but only eating candy. And so what is Christian meditation? I’ll focus on two things. Meditation is (1) biblical and (2) affective.

Mediation is Biblical

First, Christian meditation is biblical, i.e. it’s rooted in Scripture. I say this because mediation is hot these days. It’s in. No pressure, but everyone who’s anyone – anyone who’s cool, they meditate. But, Christian mediation is distinct. It’s not the same as Eastern and New Age forms of mediation, all of which stress emptying our self and our mind to achieve different goals, like inner peace and finding the real you and “becoming fully aware.” Unlike Eastern forms of mediation, Christians don’t want to empty themselves. We’re not trying to peel off all the layers of that onion we call our soul in the hope that we’ll find a great surprise. Biblical mediation is about emptying ourselves of what is false in order to fill ourselves with what is true. Once again, we empty ourselves of what is false to fill ourselves with what is true.

And so whenever we brood, we take our problems and our choices and our fears and our insecurities and we turn them over and over in our minds in the clear light of Scripture, consciously aware that the Divine Physician is doing surgery. To say that mediation is biblical is to say that it’s Christ-centered. Having our hearts conform to the heart of Jesus – that is the goal. We empty our mind of what is false and we fill it with what is true. Why? Because before we can love God with our whole heart, we first have to love Him with our whole mind. In other words, in order to brood we need to use the old noggin.

Meditation is Affective

Second, meditation is affective – that’s affective with an “a.” Of course Christian mediation is also effective. I wouldn’t teach an ineffective form of prayer. But Christian mediation is also affective. The word affective has to do with the affections of our heart – with the things we set our hearts on because we think that they’ll make us whole. And so a good working definition of affections are “root motivations.” Our affections are what drive us. They’re our root motivations. Our affections are the people or the things that our heart most loves. Our affections are what we build our lives on. They’re our foundation.

Now, God designed us to set our affections on Him and to the extent that they are we experience life, peace and joy. But do we always set our affections on God? No. Far too often our affections are set on relationships and prestige and money and status and image and our body and the bodies of other people and on a million other things. In fact, a great definition of sin is “misplaced affections.” To say that meditation is affective is to say that its purpose is to bring our affections into the light. To say that meditation is affective is to say that it deals with the root motivations of our heart. Remember, prayer’s primary purpose is to change us. But if God’s going to change us He has to go to the root. And that’s what I mean when I say that meditation is affective – it goes all the way to the root.

(3) How do we meditate?

I’m going to answer this question by getting personal and telling you about my own prayer life, but first I want to read a passage from Colossians. I think it perfectly sums up what’s been said so far.

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory. Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry). (Col 3:1-5)

Why do we meditate? Because we’ve been raised with Christ. Yes there is a future resurrection, but at the same time the Gospel says we’ve already been raised, at least metaphorically. In God’s eyes we are perfect. Jesus’ goodness is our goodness and we’ve been raised to where Jesus is – the right hand of God. And so what should we do? Set our mind on the right things – on things that “are above” as Paul says. Biblical things – things about who God is and what God’s done. Why? Because as Paul says, “our life is hidden with Christ in God.” In other words, you’ll never find yourself until you find God because your life is hidden in Him. If we want to find our self we have to set our mind on God. What does that mean? “Putting to death whatever in us that is earthly.” In other words, it means bringing our misguided affections and our self-centered root motivations into the light – that’s what Paul means by fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire and greed. All those things are nothing more than a bunch of misguided affections.

And so how do we meditate – how does God change our misguided affections? We set our minds on things that are above and ask God for new affections. But if we’re going to do that, we have to learn to read the Bible differently. Rather than asking questions of the Bible we have to brood and let the Bible ask questions of us.

For example, in Bible study we may come across Romans 8:1, which reads “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” and perhaps we start asking questions. What does it mean that I’m not condemned? And what does it mean to be “in Christ Jesus” for that matter – to have faith in Him? To go to church? And what about people not “in Christ” – are they condemned and if so why? Now, asking tough questions, this is good and holy and valuable work. We’ll never grow without asking questions like this. But, God’s Word is living and active and reading the Bible in a one-sided way, picking it apart, will only take us so far. We have to let the Bible ask us questions. We have to let the Bible pick us apart.

Now, there are a million ways to let the Bible speak to us but I’ll give you my method. I try and spend at least one hour praying each morning. I’ve got about a 75% success rate. And for the majority of that hour I brood on Scripture, and there are certain questions I let God ask me. And so what I’m going to do is give you those three questions, read the passage I meditated on the day I wrote this teaching, and then I’ll tell you my answers.

First, the three questions I let God ask me.

1. How does this passage reveal my lack of affection for Christ or my inordinate affection for something else?
2. What bad emotions govern my life when I fail to live into the Gospel being portrayed?
3. How can I begin to live into the change that God is already bringing about in my heart?

Acts 3: 1-10

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, ‘Look at us.’ And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, ‘I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.’ And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.

1. How does this passage reveal my lack of affection for Christ or my inordinate affection for something else?

I could give many examples but I’ll limit myself to one. Peter and John took the time to stop and look intently at this man that God brought before them. More often than not, I don’t. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a beggar, a friend, a student or a stranger. You see like Peter and John I’m always going to the Temple – it’s what I do for a living. But at times I take my work so seriously that I love the work more than the God who called me into it. I love being obedient to my calendar more than I love being obedient to God – a God who is always asking us to stop, to look intently at others, and to share the Gospel with them in word and deed. This is clearly a misplaced affection on my part – being more committed to my schedule, to “going to the Temple,” than to God.

2. What bad emotions govern my life when I fail to live into the Gospel being portrayed?

I miss the miracle. I miss the joy of seeing God’s healing power and settle for a small, self-absorbed life. And because of that I feel contempt for the people I perceive to be beggars. Rather than seeing interruptions as God’s gifts I see them as distractions. And so whenever I’m interrupted and my schedule gets thrown off I get self-righteous and angry and anxious – all of which are sure signs that my “root motivations” are in the wrong place.

3. How can I begin to live into the change that God is already bringing about in my heart?

I felt God asking me to do a few things. First, I made a list of all the “beggars” I overlooked the previous day and I prayed for each of them by name. And in doing so I experienced a strong desire to see each one of them again. Second, I made a list of all the people in the last week that have stopped, looked intently at me, and have gone out of their way to help me. And this list was much longer than the first one. I thanked God for each one of them and was humbled to discover that I’m a lot more like the beggar than I am like Peter and John. Third, I remembered the Gospel – that Jesus could have overlooked me; that He very well could have passed me by, but that He didn’t. And I praised God for saving me and I recommitted my life to Him.

Now, we’ve got to stop but let me end by saying this. Mediation is like brooding. Not a lot seems to happen when a mother hen sits on her eggs. But in reality, something crucial is happening beneath the surface. Her brooding is bringing about new life. Something new and beautiful is about to hatch.

And that’s the best image I can give you for how God changes our hearts. It’s a long, drawn out process. It happens slowly and over time. But if a hen doesn’t brood, her eggs will never hatch. And so remember that the spiritual process of brooding – thinking about Scripture, turning it over in our heads, allowing it transform us from the inside out – is a process of breeding. Does prayer change things? Of course. But the first thing to change is always us.

living wisely

2010-09-19T19:56:00.000-07:00

Luke 16: 1-13

Then Jesus said to the disciples, ‘There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, “What is this that I hear about you? Give me an account of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.” Then the manager said to himself, “What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.” So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, “How much do you owe my master?” He answered, “A hundred jugs of olive oil.” He said to him, “Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.” Then he asked another, “And how much do you owe?” He replied, “A hundred containers of wheat.” He said to him, “Take your bill and make it eighty.” And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. ‘Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.’

In the last few months I’ve become addicted to Monopoly, which is a really cool way to spend your time when you’re 29 years old. Monopoly is a game of acquisition. Accumulation is the name of the game, which ends when one person acquires everything. And I’m serious when I say that Monopoly is addictive – taking someone’s last dollar, watching him quit in utter despair; it’s great. But it’s addictive – it’s so easy to get lost in the game. Yes, the money is paper. The property is cardboard. You are a plastic hat. But when you’re in the game it just feels so real. You lose touch with reality. You convince yourself that everything belongs to you – that your stuff is your stuff and that someone else’s stuff needs to become your stuff. And so you spend. Acquire. Hoard. Trade. You wheel and Deal. Build a Kingdom. Make a name. Round and round the board you go – conquering and counting. It all feels so good – until the game ends because then so does the illusion. And everything goes back in the box.

Now on the surface tonight’s parable from Luke is strange but Jesus’ point is actually pretty straightforward. “In light of my arrival on earth and what I’m here to do,” He says, “think twice about losing yourself in the world’s game of acquisition. The money you hoard – its paper. The property you acquire – compared to the true riches, its cardboard. Your stuff,” He says, “is not your stuff. You’re just managing what belongs to God. And so don’t waste your life going around the board without stopping to think about what’s important. Because sooner or later the game’s going to end and everything goes back in the box.” Now that being said, let’s take a look at this four-part parable.

Part I – “a rich man had a manager.” Jesus’ audience would have known from the beginning that this parable is about God and humanity. God is the rich man. We are the managers. Now, if you need convincing just think about how the Bible begins. God creates a perfect world and puts Adam and Eve in charge as managers. In the words of Psalm 8, “You’ve given humanity dominion over the works of your hands; you’ve put all things under their feet.” In other words, first God creates a perfect world and then He creates us for a purpose – to manage His stuff. To love His stuff. To care for His stuff. To find joy in our work as managers.

Part II – the rich man discovers that the manager isn’t doing that great of a job. Now, I doubt you need convincing that we humanoids haven’t been faithful in managing God’s stuff. We spend. Acquire. Hoard. Trade. We wheel and deal. We make our lives comfortable and think very little at how others are put out. And God knows we conquer – nations conquer nations and people conquer people – physically and psychologically. At some point the human race fell – we got lost in the game. We stopped being managers and went into business for ourselves on the false premise that everything belongs to us – that my stuff is my stuff and that success is about your stuff becoming my stuff. Part II is about the manager’s rebellion against the true owner.

Part III – this is the crisis. The rich man confronts the dishonest manager and demands an account. Now, remember – the rich man in the parable is God. And so we need to see how radical this parable is coming from the mouth of Jesus. “In me,” Jesus says, “through me, God is back and He demands an account. The jig is up. That stuff isn’t your stuff; it’s my stuff – what have you done with it?” In other words, in the person of Jesus Christ God has returned; and He demands an account for how we’ve managed his stuff.

Finally, Part IV – the manager is forced to decide; the rich man’s return demands a decision. And as I read the parable what the manager does in reducing the bill is repent – he changes his ways. Commentators point out that in reducing his master’s bill, the manager is actually cutting the interest that he had charged on something that wasn’t even his, which according to Jewish law was prohibited. “Look,” he says, “I know I gave you a bill for a hundred bags of wheat even though you only borrowed eighty. But – it’d be wrong to take twenty bags for myself. After all, that wheat wasn’t mine – it belongs to my master. I shouldn’t have run up the bill.” And so that is why Jesus praises the dishonest manager. In light of his master’s return he acts wisely – he repents and repairs the damage.

Now, that’s the parable – what’s the lesson? Well, Jesus says two things that demand our attention. First, “the children of this age are a lot more shrewd than the children of light.” In other words, when people in our world cheat or act dishonestly and it becomes clear to them that they’re going to get caught – that their master, whoever that is, is coming and that he demands an account; they’re not just going to sit there. They’ll do something. They’ll apologize or make amends or change their ways. But they’re going to do something. The point Jesus is making is this. “God created you to be managers, you’ve acted dishonestly, and guess what – you’ve been caught. The Master knows everything and in Me, right now, He’s here to confront you. Do something! Wake up! Repent! Start playing the game with integrity!”

Second, Jesus explains that repentance means living faithfully now. “If you haven’t been faithful with dishonest wealth,” he says, “can you really be trusted to handle real wealth?” In other words, “Compared to the true riches of the Kingdom of God what you’ve been asked to manage now is paper and cardboard. And so don’t build a life around paper and cardboard. If you can’t be trusted with the little God’s given you, how can you ever be trusted with an inheritance of your own?” And so notice – eternity isn’t just clouds and harps! We were made to be managers. Each of us will have a huge part to play in the Kingdom of God. We’ll be entrusted with true riches. But, there does seem to be an organic connection between who we are in this life and how fit we are to take our place in the next one. And so as you go out into the world this week, please remember – your stuff isn’t your stuff. It’s Gods. We can’t keep it. One day we’re going to die, the game is going to end, and we will be put in a box.

And so make a decision. Decide for yourselves what it means to be faithful with what God’s entrusted to you – with what you have been given to manage. In a couple of years you’ll be making some money. Do not keep it all for yourselves. God’s bottom line isn’t the same as Wall Street’s. In a similar way, each one of us gets 168 hours a week. Don’t make the mistake of assuming that’s your time. No, time is a gift. It belongs to God. Share some of the time you’ve been given with other people, especially the needy, and share an even bigger chunk of that time with God. Some of you are really intelligent, and because of that really powerful. A strong intellect can be used to build up and encourage, or to intimidate people and make you feel superior. What will we do with the stuff God’s given us? Either way, we’ll have to give an account.

Now, like most parables there’s always a twist. In the context of Luke’s Gospel Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem where he’ll die on a cross for the sins of the world. Here’s the irony. We humans weren’t just entrusted with God’s stuff. We were entrusted with God. You see in the person of Jesus Christ God became human; He became vulnerable and allowed himself to be mismanaged by his own image-bearers. Our primary sin is not that we squandered God’s property. Our primary sin is that God became human in Jesus Christ and we squandered God. On the cross He was conquered and counted as nothing. I mean, think about that. We killed God and put Him in a box!

The good news of the Christian Gospel is that box couldn’t hold him. Jesus was raised from the dead, and because of that all things are His. As Paul says in Colossians, “all things have been created through him and for him.” Everything belongs to Jesus. Our money. Our time. Our body. Our intellect. What are we going to do with that stuff? Either way, we’ll have to give an account. We can spend, acquire, hoard, trade, wheel and deal, and make our life about acquiring paper. Or, we can live wisely. We can build our lives around things that matter. We start preparing now for that future promotion and become people capable of handling the true riches.

Simple prayer (beginning right where we are) -- OMEGA

2010-09-15T19:09:00.001-07:00

The secret to praying well is to know that God is ___ (praiseworthy). As Christians we pray in Jesus’ name because He’s our great High ___ (priest). Well done. Now that we’ve looked at why we pray and how we pray we can turn our attention to what we pray, or perhaps to be more accurate, where we start. And I’d like to begin talk with a quote by Richard Foster.

“Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.” (Prayer, pg. 7)

That’s a pretty radical thing to say – that God longs for our presence. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Doesn’t Psalm 42 say, “As the deep longs for the water brooks so my soul longs for you, O God?” And of course the answer is yes. The author of Psalm 42 understands that we all long for the living water that only God can give, even if we search for that water in empty wells, like achievement and sex and recognition and money and power and reputation. In fact, I’d say that behind every sin is a longing for God. Augustine long ago noted, “our souls are restless O Lord until they rest in thee.” But, according to Foster and according to the Bible, God also longs for us. His soul is restless until we rest in Him.

And because God longs for us, prayer is an invitation – an invitation by God to come back home. Like the prodigal son we’ve left home and made a mess of our lives but our Father is good and He invites us back to the feast. And that’s why prayer, above all else, is an ongoing intimate love relationship. It’s about learning to long for God and about knowing that He longs for us. And so to be effective pray-ers, we need to learn how to love. Real prayer isn’t about rolling up our sleeves and just resolving to do it. Real prayer is about falling in love.

But where do we begin? Everyone’s got their theory, their technique, their approach to prayer. And so where are we supposed to begin?

Well, a lot of us never learn to pray because we think we have to get our lives in order before we can start praying – that having it all together is a prerequisite to prayer. In other words, first we fine-tune our lives or learn the different prayer techniques or kick our addictive behavior and then we can start to pray. But that’s wrong.

You see prayer isn’t like calculus or physics and it’s not something we master. It’s something that masters us. When it comes to prayer we’ll never be competent and we’ll never be in control. After all, we’re children and children aren’t in control of anything.

The truth is that in prayer each one of us brings mixed motives to God. We’re full of love and anger, goodness and selfishness, good motives and bad. And I know this may come as a surprise, but it’s not our job to sort all that out. In fact God forbids us to even try because (1) we’re not smart enough and because (2) God’s big enough and gracious enough to take us as we are. We don’t have to be smart or pure or full of faith to pray. That’s why there’s something called grace. And as Christians we’re not just saved by grace. We live by grace and we pray by grace.

And so once again, where do we begin? Well, all prayer begins with the most basic and primary form of prayer there is, which is often called “simple prayer.” Simple prayer is about bringing ourselves before God “as is” – our wants, our desires, our fears, our frustrations. Like a child sitting on Santa’s lap we open our hearts and tell God what we’re feeling. We make known our requests. Without pretension or forethought we simply share our concerns.

We pray for good weather. For help with our test. If we’re lonely we pray for friends. We tell God how frustrated we are with our roommate and how excited we are about our date Friday night. In a very real sense, we are the focus of simple prayer – our needs, our wants, our concerns. Simple prayer is mostly about us.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “that sounds selfish. I thought Christianity was about losing our lives for others – not about treating God like Santa Claus.” And of course you’re right. There’s no doubt a lot of pride and vanity and egocentricity that comes with simple prayer, but I want to ask you this. What alternative do we have?

Just for fun, suppose we try filtering our prayers. Let’s say we work really hard to sort out what’s worth bringing to God and what’s not. Let me ask you this. Does a child do that? And if we do take matters into our own hands and try filtering out what’s worth bringing to God and what’s not, do we really believe in grace? And on top of that, do we really think God doesn’t know what we’re up to, and could God really be pleased that we find Him so unapproachable and that our coming before Him has to be so planned?

To filter our prayers; to only pray about those things we think God wants to hear; to pray for world peace when all we care about is our toothache; this doesn’t come from a high view of God. It comes from a low view of God. It’s fake humility. You see God is perfectly capable of handling our anger and frustration and disappointment and selfishness. As C.S. Lewis once noted, prayer is about laying before God what is actually in our heart. Not what we think ought to be in our heart. Simple prayer, if nothing else, is honest. And that’s why we have to begin with simple prayer. Because prayer is about falling in love, it’s about a growing into a personal relationship. And without honesty a relationship isn’t possible.

Now of course God wants his children to grow up. It’s really cute when a three-year-old girl asks her dad for a pony but it’s really weird when a 33-year-old woman asks her dad for a pony. And so yes – as we grow in grace we’ll move beyond simple prayer. That being said, the only way to move beyond simple prayer is to go through simple prayer, not make a detour around it. We’re born into this world as infants, and we’re born again into God’s world as infants. And even as we grow up, we’ll never leave simple prayer behind completely because genuine prayer is about conversing with God about the real condition of our heart.

And so we shouldn’t be surprised to find that simple prayer is the most common form of prayer in the Bible. For example, consider Moses’ prayer to God when the Israelites rebel in the wilderness. Here’s a paraphrase of Numbers 11. “God, why’d you burden me with these losers? Did I give birth to them? Then why are you asking me to lug them around like a mother nursing her baby?” The Bible describes Moses as the most humble man that ever lived and yet here he is laying before God his anger, his sarcasm, and his frustration. That’s simple prayer. Another example. The prophet Elisha goes bald and some kids make fun of him. As II Kings tells us, Elisha prays for bears to come eat them. That’s simple prayer. The author of Psalm 137 finds himself taunted by his Babylonian captors. How does he respond? By praying for the death of their children. That’s simple prayer – bringing to God what’s actually in us, even if it’s ugly. Not what we think ought to be in us.

Now with that in mind let’s look at Jesus’ teaching on prayer in the Sermon on the Mount.

Matthew 6 & 7 (selected verses)

And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Your Father knows what you need before you even ask Him. Therefore Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

There’s a lot of wisdom here for getting started with prayer. First, don’t be a hypocrite, a word meaning “play-actor.” In other words, don’t act or put on a show. Don’t ask God for world peace when all you care about is your tooth. Second, don’t pray to be seen. If prayer is our tool for becoming more popular and admired by others then it isn’t prayer. Third, God knows what we need before we even ask Him. That’s encouraging. No one’s more in tune with our wants and needs than God. Fourth, God tells us to ask anyway. Yes He knows but God wants to be asked. Fifth, even though we’re evil God is still good and God’s desire is to give his children good things.

Now you might be wondering. If God already knows our needs before we ask then why on earth do we have to ask? In other words, why doesn’t God just give us what we need? Well, it goes back to our first “p” from two weeks ago. The God we pray to is personal and petition, or asking, is at the heart of all personal relationships. At the heart of prayer is “the request” – addressing God as our Father and asking Him to do something for us. And of course the request works both ways – as prayer becomes more natural we’ll learn to hear God when He’s asking us to do something for Him, and He will. But the God we pray to is personal, and because of that God wants to be asked.

And so back to our question – when it comes to prayer where do we begin? The answer is simple – we begin right where we are. We speak to God about what concerns us – our families, our classes, our friends, our dreams, our disappointments. I know it sounds trivial but this is the most profound truth you’ll ever hear about God. We worship a God that freely chooses to enter our world, our reality. And so if your reality right now is a toothache – that’s the only reality God wants to enter.

Do you remember the story of Moses and the burning bush? Moses is going about his daily life as a shepherd in Midian and God comes to Moses and says, “Moses, take off your shoes.” God wants Moses to know that the world he inhabits is holy. The scandal of Christianity is that God enters our world and that as we go about our life burning bushes are everywhere. Think about it. When God entered our world He chose a small, smelly stable. His mom was an unwed teenage girl and the first people to admire him was a group of shady shepherds. And so don’t think that your life is too ordinary for God or that He’s just not interested in you. That’s not being humble. From God’s perspective, it’s just being rude.

And so when it comes to prayer, God wants us to begin right where we are – with simple prayer. And so for those of you eager to get started I’ll leave you with four pieces of advice.

1. Remember that prayer is first and foremost an ongoing and growing love relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And because of that no one has any advantage. The bruised and the broken can enter simple prayer just as freely as the wealthy and the wise. The only thing we need to get started is desire.

2. When you begin to take prayer seriously don’t get discouraged by how bad you are, or at how difficult you find prayer to be. Our hunger for God is actually where prayer begins. In other words, wanting to pray is the beginning of prayer. The very desire to pray is a gift of the Spirit and in time our desire will lead to practice and that practice will then increase our desire. And so don’t get discouraged.

3. Don’t try praying too hard. There is a natural progression in the spiritual life. We don’t take occasion joggers and expect them to run a marathon. In the same way we don’t take spiritual children and expect them to pray for hours at a time. In other words, don’t be spiritually greedy. If prayer isn’t a fixed habit for you instead of starting with 30 minutes a day start with 3. Pour all your energy into those three minutes and then tell God you need a break. Trust me, He’ll understand.

4. Learn to pray even when you’re sinning. If you struggle with anger or lust or greed or ambition don’t isolate these things from your prayer life or take a break from prayer until you beat them. Instead, talk to God about them. It warms God’s heart that we trust Him enough to bring our mess to Him in prayer. And so pray, even as you sin.

If we’re going to learn to pray we have to start where we are. At first, we will be the center and the subject of our prayers. But then in God’s time and in God’s way our hearts will begin to change. We’ll stop thinking of God as a part of our life because we’ll come to see that we are a part of His.

“The heart of God is an open wound of love.” As the deep longs for the water brooks so God’s soul longs for us. We don’t have to clean up before we go back home. We just need to go back home and trust God to clean us up.

I am the Worst

2010-09-12T20:23:00.000-07:00

"Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, a sinner from my mother's womb." – Psalm 51

"I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-- of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen." – 1 Tim

"All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them." So he told them this parable: "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, `Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." – Luke 15

The following is written on the wall of the Epoch Coffee House men’s room. “Sailors shouldn’t go to church. They should go to Hell where it’s much more comfortable.” Apparently Anonymous – the guy’s name that wrote it – doesn’t think the church does a good job of welcoming certain people in our society. The church, he assumes, is for good people, the best people. But if you’re a sailor or a sinner – well, you can just go to Hell. It’s a whole lot better than going to church.

I just read an online article entitled, “Reasons Why People Quit Church.” At the top of the list was a sense, a feeling of not being good enough. According to the article, “The feeling of … judgment lies heavy upon churchgoers. If God ever needs help on judgment day, He need not go any further than the nearest church.” In other words, Pharisees and Scribes are still found in our pews grumbling. And so here’s my question. Who’s the church for? Good people? The best people? Or, is tonight’s Gospel true – is there more joy in heaven when the worst sinner repents than over ninety-nine people who know they’re the best? Who belongs in church? People who think they’re the worst? Or, people who think they’re the best? My answer may sound a little strange. People who know that they’re both.

In tonight’s epistle Paul says that Christ came into the world to save sinners. But then he adds something amazing. “Of whom I am the foremost,” a word that really means worst or chief. When it comes to sin, “I am the worst!” Paul says. “I am the chief sinner!” You may be thinking, “isn’t Paul exaggerating just to make a point?” Well, by reading his letters, you know that he isn’t. In 1 Corinthians he calls himself the “least of the apostles.” In Ephesians 3 he calls himself “the very least of the saints.” And notice, Paul doesn’t say I was the foremost sinner. He says I am the chief sinner. Paul is the worst. Just ask him.

Now, the devil’s advocate in you might start to wonder – is this attitude healthy? “Lighten up, Paul. You’re obviously a perfectionist. Go to therapy.” If we think we’re the worst, won’t that lead to low self-esteem? “I can’t be the worst. I thought Hitler was the worst. I’m the worst? I’m not the worst.”

In high school I was really moved by the movie American History X. If you haven’t seen it, it’s about a young neo-Nazi that goes to jail for murder but then has a profound change of heart. But the movie forces you to ask an interesting question – what if I was a raised in a Neo-Nazi family and had Neo-Nazi fiends? Would I be a neo-Nazi? What if I was born in a different country? Would I be a Christian? What if I was born in Paul’s shoes? Would I persecute Christians? Is Paul the only chief sinner? Or, if circumstances were different – could that have been me?

Well, Paul uses this great word to describe himself. He calls himself a man of violence – but the Greek word is hybristes, which means deep-seated spiritual pride. It’s also the root of a word we commonly use – hubris. In other words, Paul says that behind all the violence was this hybristes in his heart – this deep spiritual pride that made him the monster that he was. And according to Jesus, we all have that same hybristes. Each one of our hearts is infected with pride. And so with that in mind, is it possible that we are the worst? Can we claim the title chief sinner?

Well, I can only answer that question for myself, but as a preacher, I am going to point out what our readings say. Psalm 51 says, “I have been wicked from my birth.” This psalm is attributed to David, who was a thief, adulterer, liar and murderer. In other words, this psalm is David’s way of saying, “I am the worst.” In tonight’s Gospel Luke holds the tax collectors up as the heroes. Why? Tax collectors know they are the worst. And I think I’ve covered where Paul stands on the issue. Each one of tonight’s readings has the exact same perspective. “I am the worst.”

Now, I don’t want you to leave here tonight with low self-esteem; there’s a second piece to this puzzle. If we understand the Gospel, knowing we’re the worst will lead us to the good news that in Christ we are the best. Think about this. Paul should have had low self-esteem. Paul killed Christians. I mean, think about this – the 1st century church was small. I imagine at some point Paul ran into Stephen’s mom and was like, “hey, how’s Stephen – haven’t seen him at church,” and then there was an awkward silence because Paul was like, “oh, yea – I stoned him.” Now, I’m kind of joking but think about this. For the rest of Paul’s life he had to work with people whose son, whose brother, whose friend, whose mother he had killed. Why didn’t Paul wrestle with low self-esteem? How did he deal with his conscience?

Well, here’s what Paul says about that. “Because I am the worst I’m the best.” Because I am chief sinner I’m the perfect example for those who believe. In other words, Paul wants his life to be the lens through which we see our own. Because I am the worst, he says, I am the best possible vessel for God’s patience, God’s love, God’s mercy. And of course in tonight’s Gospel what Jesus says is even more shocking. “There is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine who need no repentance.” How did Paul deal with low self-esteem? Paul knew in his bones the one thing we too often forget. The Gospel isn’t about us. It’s about God. And because of who God is, God delights in taking the worst and in Christ declaring them the best.

Here’s what I’m trying to say. If you know you’re the worst but don’t quite get that Christ makes you the best – if you’re in constant pain because, spiritually speaking, you don’t measure up – I want you to consider carefully that you may be either proud or ignorant. Perhaps you’re proud – more focused on what you do than on what God did for you. Or you may just be ignorant of the Gospel – the Gospel that says salvation is a gift received through faith; not a right earned through works.

On the other hand, maybe what Paul said doesn’t resonate at all. “I’m not the chief sinner. Yea, I mess up – but the worst? C’mon.” Here’s what I’d say about that. If we don’t think we’re capable of doing what Paul did if the circumstances were different; we’re not just proud and ignorant – we’re naïve and dangerous. There’s only one difference between a Pharisees and a tax collector. One of them knows they’re the worst. You see the irony of Jesus’ parable is that there’s no such thing as a righteous person that doesn’t need to repent! Not knowing we’re the worst will make us Pharisees and Scribes – self-righteous grumblers who look around and see people worse than us. The same hybristes that was in Paul’s heart can be found in our heart, too.

Now, I know this all sounds strange, but God wants us to be humble – to see all people as our equal. But practically speaking, there’s only one way to live life not looking down on people – we have to take our place at the bottom. We have to be willing to name ourselves as the Chief sinner. Nothing will make us more humble than knowing we’re the worst.

But on the other hand, God also wants us to be bold, secure, and joyful. We need to know that we are the best – the Christ stooped down, brought us out of the miry clay, washed us through and through, and placed us in His Father’s presence. And nothing will empower us more than knowing that Jesus has made us the best. We’ll still be humble. But at the same, no one will intimidate us. We who stand in the presence of the King will learn not to cower in the presence of the surfs. You see there’s a strange blend of humility and confidence that only the Gospel can produce. But humility without confidence is shyness, and confidence without humility – that’s just being an arrogant jerk. You and I are the worst. We need to know that. But it’s for that very reason that Christ makes us the best.

In II Corinthians Paul writes the following. “God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” Jesus Christ was the best. He lived a perfect life. No one was less deserving of Jesus’ death than Him, and yet Paul says God made him to be sin. In other words, in Christ God took the absolute best and reduced him to the absolute worst. Why? So that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. So that in Him we – the absolute worst – might be transformed into the absolute best. That’s what the Gospel is. Jesus the Best becoming the worst, so that we – the worst – might become the best in Him. “To the King of Ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”