Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I never made a sacrifice
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.”
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The power of our confession
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?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
reckless love
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.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
in the image of (a Triune) God
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?
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?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
what now?
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?
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?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
God's great reminder
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.
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.
Monday, May 23, 2011
The Truth
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.
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