Tuesday, January 14, 2014

To Fulfill All Righteousness (Baptism of Our Lord)

Matthew 3:13-17
13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" 15 But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

            In September of 2005 I had a rather unique experience. I was invited to sit in with a group of other students at Samford on a conversation with a well-known and very well-respected Christian author. Now, to tell the truth, I had no idea who the author was. I had friends who were telling me how excited they were that this guy was coming to speak in chapel, and I had friends who were asking me if I had ever read this guy’s books (I hadn’t). Apparently, this guy was a big deal, so I decided I wouldn’t blow off the event.
            The day came. I woke up from a nap I had taken after class that afternoon just in time to run over to SIM Forum and plop down in one of the leather chairs there in that wood-paneled room. In a chair next to me was an older fellow who looked a little out of place: his white hair looked like he may have brushed it that morning before walking in the wind of the day; he was wearing a white, button-down shirt that could have stood a good press, and his pants were patched together with bits of red and black bandanas. I figured he was a visitor, perhaps a guest of a professor (or maybe even one of those eccentric sort of professors you see in the movies), or, I thought, maybe he’s one of those older students you only see on campus later in the day, perhaps going to late classes and needing these sorts of events in order to fulfil university degree requirements.
Whoever he was, I decided it would be rude to just sit there beside him without saying anything as folks slowly filled the room, so I struck up some small talk with him. I’m sure I said something about the weather and how boring these sorts of things could be. I think I even said something about how I had never really heard of the guy we were all supposed to be there to hear and talk to. I think I remember him just simply smiling. I’m sure I said something like, “Well, whoever he is, I expect it’ll be a good time.” He said, “I sure hope so.”
About that time, my friend Brian (one of the ministers in Student Ministries and the facilitator of the event) walked over to the older man next to me and said, “Mr. Manning, I think we’ve got everyone here; if you’re ready to start, we’ll begin.” The old man I was sitting next to was none other than Brennan Manning, our guest for the evening, and a man whose books like The Ragamuffin Gospel, Abba’s Child, and The Furious Longing of God (just to name a few) have influenced countless believers in their faith journeys. In the world of Christian spirituality, Brennan Manning was (and still is) a giant. His grace and humility, however, hid his fame and renown from one who had never heard of him before. Needless to say, I was a bit embarrassed, but Manning, with immense kindness, simply smiled. Perhaps he was used to his presence being a bit underwhelming to those who had never met him before.
I wonder if there were those who shared that sort of surprised embarrassment that day all those years ago standing by the Jordan River. Perhaps they had been lured to the river by curiosity (whether it was their own or the curiosity of friends), and found themselves standing among the ever-gathering crowd of those who were coming out from Jerusalem and all of Judea. As they listened to this wild-looking man stand in the water preaching about repentance and calling down those Pharisees and Sadducees, I wonder what ideas, what images, ran across their minds when they heard John say in those two verses prior to our reading this morning: "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
            Think about it for a moment: John is saying there is someone coming after him—a main event to his opening act—who is more powerful than John, one who will baptize WITH FIRE. This sounds like one incredibly powerful and intimidating individual, one who just may appear cloaked in flames with a sinister-looking pronged-fork in his hand. John’s description gives one the picture of an individual who is coming with recognizable power, one whose presence will be easily recognized, especially given the public display of John’s baptisms.
            Yet, Matthew doesn’t tell us about some great, powerful appearance of this one of whom John spoke. No, Matthew simply tells us in verse 13: “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” One gets the impression Jesus was simply standing in among the crowd of those who had come to be baptized, and after John’s prophetic proclamation he simply, humbly, may his way down into the water.
            Perhaps as he had been in line, waiting with the other baptismal candidates, someone may have said something to him like, “Boy, I hope this other fellow who baptizes with fire gets here after I’ve been baptized, because I think I’d like water better!” Or perhaps someone had poked him in the ribs and said, “Get a load of this guy! Going on and on about someone so powerful he can’t even carry the other guy’s shoes. I’d rather hear from that guy if he’s so much better.” Can you imagine how they all must have felt when, after all of John’s hype, Jesus steps out of the crowd—not in a fiery display of John’s prophesied words, but—with the quiet humility of one coming for baptism?
            I imagined it shocked them, puzzled them, and made them scratch their heads. I know Jesus’ actions there at the Jordan still cause us to wonder exactly what was going on. It definitely gave John a reason to pause and even argue a bit with Jesus. Matthew tells us in verse 14: “John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’" Perhaps John wanted to save himself the embarrassment of baptizing the one whom he just claimed to be more powerful than him. Maybe John, having known all along who Jesus was, thought it was unnecessary and even backwards that he should baptize Jesus. Whatever the case, John tried to prevent Jesus from being baptized, and what happened next may have shocked John and those watching on the banks of the river as much as the subtle way Jesus appeared among them. “But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then [John] consented. And when Jesus had been baptized…”
            What did Jesus mean when he said, “…it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness”? One might quickly jump to some conclusion that Jesus is saying that he needs to be baptized in order to be made righteous, to show that he has repented of any wrongdoing. But that is inconsistent with what we know and believe about Jesus—in the words of the author of Hebrews: “[Jesus is one] who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.” Christ had no sins for which to repent, and thus no need to be baptized in an expression of such repentance.
            I think we may find the meaning behind Jesus’ words in the scene that unfolds AFTER he is baptized by John: “…just as [Jesus] came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” In one awesome moment, we see all persons of the Trinity present: the Spirit descending like a dove, the newly baptized Son, and the voice of the Father, a voice that expresses the Father’s pleasure in his Son…after he has been baptized. What is it about this event—Jesus’ baptism—that is so important, so awesome, that the Father speaks from heaven and the Holy Spirit descends? What is it about this event that garners such divine, Trinitarian attention? Why is this the moment when the Father declares his pleasure in his Son Jesus?
            Because this is the moment when Jesus shows us whose side he’s on. There, at the Jordan River, Jesus has every right to stand in the place of John, shouting for repentance, shaking his finger at those hypocritical Pharisees and Sadducees. There, at the Jordan, Jesus would have been within his divine right to walk across the sin-tainted water and proclaim to those sin-stained gawkers on the shore that they were all bound to a train that would bust hell wide-open. Jesus could have stood above all the lowly sinners there at that river and put them all in their place concerning their relative positions in righteousness. In the words of the late New Testament scholar, Leon Morris: “Jesus might well have been up there in front standing with John and calling on sinners to repent. Instead he was down there with the sinners, affirming his solidarity with them, making himself one with them in the process of the salvation that he would in due course accomplish.”[1] In other words, there at the Jordan River, Jesus makes it clear whose side he’s on—he’s on the side of sinners.
            Jesus is on the side of sinners. That’s the statement he makes there in the water. At his baptism, Jesus identifies with us sinners. At his baptism, Jesus shows us that the kingdom of God is a kingdom founded on humility and selflessness. In his baptism, Jesus puts actions to the words of one of the earliest hymns of the Church, recorded by the apostle Paul in his epistle to the Philippians: “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.  Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
            With his baptism, Jesus shows that he is on the side of sinners. He’s on your side, our side. What that means for us is that God is on our side, that God identifies with the sinners. It means that whenever you begin to feel that your place is above those you deem to be unrighteous or unworthy, when you feel that your place is above ANYONE ELSE, you ought to remember whose side Jesus is on. Whenever you feel as if you have earned the right to cast judgment on others, whenever you feel as if you are entitled to a position of power and influence within the church or outside in the world, remember that the only One who truly holds such power willingly gave it up to show His love for you. The only one who holds the power to create time and space, once went under the waters of baptism to show his love and devotion to sinners. He once was baptized by his cousin in a muddy river in order to fulfill all righteousness by siding with the sinners he came to save.
Let us pray…


[1] Leon Morris, The Gospel According to Matthew (The Pillar New Testament Commentary). Eerdmans Publishing Company: Grand Rapids, MI (1992) p.65.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

The Way Back Home (Second Sunday of Christmastide/Sunday before Epiphany)

Jeremiah 31:7-14
7 For thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob, and raise shouts for the chief of the nations; proclaim, give praise, and say, "Save, O Lord, your people, the remnant of Israel." 8 See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here. 9 With weeping they shall come, and with consolations I will lead them back, I will let them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble; for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn. 10 Hear the word of the Lord, O nations, and declare it in the coastlands far away; say, "He who scattered Israel will gather him, and will keep him as a shepherd a flock." 11 For the Lord has ransomed Jacob, and has redeemed him from hands too strong for him. 12 They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again. 13 Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. 14 I will give the priests their fill of fatness, and my people shall be satisfied with my bounty, says the Lord.

            Take AL Highway 21 south past Sylacauga where it merges with U.S. Highway 231. Stay on that highway all the way into Montgomery and follow 231 into Troy. In Troy, you’ll take a right by the Kangaroo station, then a left by Wiley Sanders Trucking Company, heading towards Pike County Lake (it’s a bit of a shortcut). That road ends on AL Highway 167, where you’ll turn right and head south straight into my hometown, Enterprise. That’s the way we travel when we go to visit family for the holidays; it’s the way home. Sure, a few things have changed on that route over the years: service stations get new paint jobs along with new names, a shopping center or two opens, a shopping center or two closes, a Jack’s pops up here, while a Zaxby’s pops up there…but the way itself has always been the same.
            We took that way home about a week and a half ago. Right after our Christmas Eve service here at the church, Sallie and I stopped by our house, loaded our pets and bags in the truck, and headed south on the way home, and we made pretty good time too, getting into to my mother-in-law’s house just after ten o’clock. During our time there we traveled to my uncle’s house to meet with my mom’s family for Christmas, then out to my dad’s house to be with that side of my family, and before we left, we trekked out to my mom’s house. We travelled on roads by which I had travelled all my life—the way home (whether to my mom’s house or my dad’s) was a way I could travel without reminder, without the need of a map or GPS navigation. And while many things had changed about my hometown, the way to parents’ houses was still pretty much the same (save a new traffic light or two).
            I imagine human beings have shared in this sort of homing instinct for centuries. In some strange way, our minds have a way of mapping out the way home, of tracing the route in our hearts so that street names and landmarks are no longer needed in order to navigate the course home. Perhaps it’s because the very idea of home is something so central to what we are as humans in the first place. We’re not necessarily prone to migration, and even if we move around as individuals, there is still some sense of “home” we carry with us wherever we may be, some sense of a place where we came from, some sense of a place where we may one day return.
            It is precisely that sense of home to which the prophet Jeremiah speaks in passage we’ve read together today. For the first twenty-nine chapters of the book bearing his name, the prophet Jeremiah unyieldingly prophesied against rising apostasy, increasing moral erosion, and the ethical deterioration of the southern kingdom of Judah. Hardly a century prior to his prophetic arrival, the northern kingdom of Israel had fallen to the Assyrians; the prophesied punishment for that nation’s blatant disregard of God and his calling. Jeremiah speaks of God’s coming judgment upon the people, but in chapters 30 and 31 (the so-called “Book of Consolations” within the book of the prophet Jeremiah) the prophet seems to pause in the midst of prophetic pronunciations in order to offer some words of hope, some exhortations to God’s people that indeed, one day, they will find the way home once more. 
            One can hear this promise in the words of Jeremiah in verses 7 and 8: “For thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob, and raise shouts for the chief of the nations; proclaim, give praise, and say, ‘Save, O Lord, your people, the remnant of Israel.’ See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, and in verse 10: “Hear the word of the Lord, O nations, and declare it in the coastlands far away; say, ‘He who scattered Israel will gather him, and will keep him as a shepherd a flock.’" Jeremiah speaks of God’s redemption of Judah, a time when they will no longer endure the punishment of iniquity in exile, a time when they will return from every corner of the earth to which they had been scattered.
            What’s more, it won’t only be those who had been exiled from Judah who will return. Oh no! Jeremiah’s words speak of a greater hope even than that. In speaking of God’s leading the people by brooks of water, in this wonderful, loving language of God leading the people like a shepherd as they rejoice in the goodness of the Lord, in the abundance of grain, wine, and oil, as the young women dance and the men make merry, as the prophet speaks of a time so abundant that the priests shall get fat just from the offerings from the people, Jeremiah speaks of a time when ALL of God’s people will be united once more. In other words, Jeremiah isn’t simply speaking a word of consolation to the people of the southern kingdom in order to give them hope that one day their kingdom would “get back to normal.” No, Jeremiah’s words speak about a time when both kingdoms—all twelve tribes of Israel—will be reunited in joy and prosperity. Not only that, but ALL THE PEOPLE from those kingdoms and tribes will be reunited in joy and prosperity.
            Maybe you didn’t catch it at first; it’s a small phrase from the prophet at the end of verse 8 where he talks about those who will return from the farthest parts of the earth: “among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here.” The blind, the lame, people with children, women in labor…If you were standing in line at the airport behind these people what would be the first thing to come into your mind (tell the truth, because you’re in church!)? “Ugh! These folks slow everybody down. Why can’t they take a different way? Should they even be traveling in the first place?”
Sometimes, in order to really get the brunt of the Lord’s words spoken through one of the prophets, we have to be brutally honest with ourselves, dropping the context of sitting in a church pew after having sung hymns about the great mystery of God or the glory of heaven. We have to peel back the biblical layers and allow ourselves to feel the way those first listeners felt when they heard the prophetic words. You see, the citizens of the southern kingdom have been told that there is coming a day when they will travel the way home and be reunited with those who have been scattered to the corners of the earth. The thing is, though, those who have been scattered were from the northern kingdom, a rival nation. And not only that, they’ll have to be reunited with those who are flawed (“the blind”), those who are problematic and burdensome (“the lame”), and those will only likely get in the way and cause headaches (“those with children and those in labor”). This might not be what they want when they’ve made it back on the way home.
I’d be willing to bet, though, that most—if not all—of us in this place today have felt the very same way recently. You see, the way home may be engraved in our mind, and our desire to be there may be great, but chances are when we arrive we realize that in the midst of all of those we love, all of those whom we have longed to see, there are those who drive us just outside the edge of crazy. When we arrive on the way back home, we may find that there are those who we don’t know at all, those who we may have hoped had long since moved on. In the midst of joy and prosperity we may find those with whom we would rather not share it.
You see, that’s the gospel truth at the center of Jeremiah’s words here. (That’s the gospel truth represented by the arrival of the Magi at the home of the Christ-child.) When we find the way home, the way of salvation in Jesus Christ, we join countless others on that way, and those countless others may not be the kind of folks with whom we hope to be reunited someday! There are those whom God is bringing back to God’s self from the corners of the earth and every nook and cranny of human history who, like the blind, may seem flawed, handicapped, disabled, or whatever label we care to give them, but God is calling them home by the way of Christ just as God is calling you. There are those whom God is bringing back who, like the lame, may seem broken, problematic, or a hassle, but God is calling them home by the way of Christ just as God is calling you. There are those who, like those with children and those in labor, who may seem to you to be more trouble than they are worth, as those who can only get in the way and slow things down, but God is calling them home just as God is calling you.
Isn’t that really what the good news of Jesus Christ is all about? God is bringing all of God’s people together, from every corner of the earth, from every station in life, from every socio-economic level, from every nation, tribe, race, and tongue. God is calling us ALL to take the way back home, the way of Christ Jesus and the eternal love of God. May you this day answer God’s call, come and follow Jesus on the way back home, and be reunited with all of God’s people (maybe even those you might not like).

Let us pray…

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

More than a Prophet (Third Sunday of Advent, 2013)

Matthew 11:2-11
2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" 4 Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 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. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." 7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written, "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' 11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

            Where do you find joy? That can be a philosophical question. You may say something like, “I find joy in the laughter of a child,” or “I find joy in the unnoticed blessings of clear night sky.” That can be a more active question for some of you. You might say you find joy in the rhythmic action of casting a line and reeling in a hook, or you might say you find joy in the satisfaction of fixing something with your own two hands.
Still, for others, that can be a very literal question, like that scene in my favorite movie Forrest Gump when Forrest runs into Lt. Dan in New York City after a television appearance about his ping pong travels in China. Lt. Dan begins to complain about the way the other vets are always asking him about Jesus, and he looks at Forrest and says, “Have you found Jesus, Gump?” and Forrest replies, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for him.” That’s how some of us hear the question, “Where do you find joy?” You may find joy in a tree stand on a cold December morning, or you may find joy on a quiet morning on the golf course. You may find joy around the table at Momma and Daddy’s house after church on Sunday. There may be many locations, places where you find joy, but the last place I think any of us would expect to find it is in a jail cell.
As much as we may try to fool ourselves into thinking jail is gravy train with biscuit wheels (with three meals a day, cable television, and all the workout equipment one could ever want) it is still jail, still a place of separation and confinement, a place where few (if any) would ever go looking for signs of joy. But on this third Sunday of Advent, we find ourselves in a jail cell—and not the sort with indoor plumbing, a mattress, bed linens, and modern temperature controls—a jail cell in ancient Judea. There, perhaps squatting on the floor in the corner, we find (not joy) but what’s left of that emboldened preacher from last week at the Jordan River.
John (like a number of us preachers) has gotten himself in trouble by opening his mouth. He had preached against the recent actions of Herod Antipas (one of the Tetrarchs of Judea, son of Herod the Great), particularly his taking his brother’s wife. In retaliation, John was imprisoned and eventually beheaded. In that jail cell, John has had time to think—maybe too much time to think—and so he sends word by some of his disciples to Jesus (the one whom he had only recently proclaimed as “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” in the first chapter of the Fourth Gospel). He asks, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Are you really the one I claimed you are? Are you really the one whose sandals I’m not fit to carry? Are you really the one about whom the angel told Mary with tidings of comfort and joy? Are you really the one who is to come, or should we hang on and wait for someone else?
You can understand where John is coming from, can’t you? He’s stuck his neck out preaching about an increasingly close kingdom; he’s stuck his neck out proclaiming Jesus as the Lamb of God, and now he’s about to stick his neck out far enough to have his head removed from it! “Look Jesus, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’, because if so, then I need to get myself out of this joyless jail and head out looking for him!”
Jesus gets word of John’s question, and in typical Jesus fashion he responds without really answering his question: "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." Now, if I had been John, sitting in that cell, waiting for my inevitable execution, I believe I would have taken such a response from Jesus with at least a tinge of frustration. After all, Jesus’ response may sound hopeless, void of joy, to one who is waiting out life in a cold cell. I believe I might have replied by saying something like, “Good for the blind! Good for the lame! I’m proud for all those lepers and the deaf! What a sight it must be to see the dead come back to life, and I’m glad the poor have another bleeding heart to tell them good news! But what about ME Jesus?! What about that whole notion of setting the captives free?!” Thankfully, I wasn’t John, for I have a feeling John heard what he needed to hear in the jail cell; I think in those reaffirming words from Jesus, John found joy—a joy that came with the assurance that Jesus was indeed the one who was to come.
But Jesus isn’t finished with us in this passage yet. For after he sends word back to John, he turns his focus to the crowd: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” Perhaps word had gotten around that John was beginning to have doubts about Jesus, or maybe news of his imprisonment was causing doubt in others. Either way, Jesus’ words ring with a tone of rebuke: “What’d you expect to see out in the country, wading in the creek? An agitator? A rabble rouser? Maybe you expected to see a televangelist on a big, gold chair with big, pink hair? Did you expect to see a prophet, one proclaiming the word of the Lord and the coming day of God? Well you got that, and I aim to tell you, you got more than that! You got the one who other prophets only hinted at! You went out and saw more than a prophet!”
Now, I don’t know if those words got back to John, but if they did, maybe he felt a slight swelling of pride as his cousin proclaimed how great he was, how John was head and shoulders above every person ever born. But those last words may have been a bit confusing, troubling even: “yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” Nobody born up to that point was greater than John the Baptist, but Jesus said John was least in the kingdom of heaven. John was more than a prophet, but least in the kingdom. What a humbling expression! John the Baptist, the cousin of Jesus, the one who was greater than all men born up to his lifetime (that presumably includes Abraham, Moses, David, and all the other prophets) was least in the kingdom. That has to make you wonder where you stack up, doesn’t it?
I think in some way, that’s the point. You see, in the Fourth Gospel (John), chapter three, verse 30 John the Baptist says this about Jesus: “He must increase, but I must decrease." I don’t suppose John thought he’d decrease all the way to the bottom of the list of those in God’s kingdom. Nevertheless, John got it with that expression: “He must increase, but I must decrease." That’s what discipleship is all about: decreasing ourselves and increasing Christ. Letting go of what defines us as us, and taking hold of what defines Christ. In the end, that’s the only true way to find joy (even in a jail cell).  The only true way to find joy is to let go of all those things that define you (pride, ego, selfishness, service, titles, awards, distinctions, habits, addictions…) and take hold of all those things that Christ freely offers to us all (hope, peace, joy, love, salvation…).
As John sat in that cell, I’m sure it was hard for him to find joy. As the people of God longed for a messiah, I’m sure it was hard for them to find joy in a world that seemed to continually punish them. On a day like today, in a week like this, I know it’s hard to find joy, and I know it can be hard to think let go of what defines us, what defines our loved ones and friends. But just as John was more than a prophet, we are more than whatever label we choose to give ourselves, or whatever labels others may try to impose upon us. We are children of God. We are the beloved of God.
Jesus calls John least in the kingdom because it seemed John was just starting to get it: “He must increase, but I must decrease,” and yet he still struggled with faith: "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus is the one who came; he came in manger, to the most unlikely of parents in a backwater province of ancient Judea. Jesus is the one who is to come; he is coming as the Church lives the gospel, as believers share the love of Christ in word and deed, as the day of resurrection draws closer. We don’t have to wait for another. We simply wait for the one who told us he’s coming again, and we wait with an inexplicable joy. We wait with the anticipation of those who long to see sisters, brothers, parents, children, and friends who have gone before us. We wait, knowing that the place we find joy is in the loving presence of our God, in the presence of the Holy Spirit, even in this place this morning.
May you find joy as you decrease so that Christ may increase, and may you find that inexplicable awesome joy today.

Let us pray…

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Rejoice and Give Thanks (A Sermon for Thanksgiving Sunday)

Philippians 4:4-9
4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

            I’m usually not one who likes to begin a sermon with a joke, so forgive me for breaking with my own pattern. There’s an old Jeff Foxworthy joke that goes like this: if someone in your family buys a new house and you have to help take the wheels off of it…you might be a redneck! Well, I might be a redneck, because back in 1998 my aunt (my mother’s sister) and her husband had bought a new house. While we didn’t help take the wheels off of it, we did help them break it in with the closest thing to a house warming party I’d ever been to. My mom, my sister, and I had gone over to my aunt’s new double-wide, and she was eager to show it off: there was the giant, new Jacuzzi tub, in the giant, new master suite, and there was the enormous living room with a gas fireplace, a nice, sparkling new kitchen, with new appliances like a dishwasher and a refrigerator with ice and water in the door. Everything about their new home was new—so new in fact, it smelled like a combination of a new car and a brand-new pair of sneakers.
            At some point during the tour, my mom had slipped outside onto the back porch. I figured she had just gone outside to smoke a cigarette, but when it seemed she was taking too long, I went outside just to make sure she wasn’t chain smoking one after another (after all, she was missing some really cool stuff inside). When I walked out the door, I didn’t find my mom smoking. No, she was crying. I was a little confused, so I asked her what was wrong. She looked at me and pointed at my aunt’s new trailer—her brand new house—and said, “We’ll never have anything like that.”
At the time we lived in the house in which I spent most of my childhood, the house at 200 North Hill Street in Enterprise. You can go by there today, but you won’t see the house. The tornado back in 2007 sucked it clean off the foundation—not even a stick is left, just the blocks and concrete that made up the crawlspace foundation. We moved into that house when I was in the third grade. We rented it from a nice lady who lived in Daleville for less than $300 a month. It was an older, wood-framed house, with worn hardwood floors, natural gas forced-air heat, a window air-conditioner, and a kitchen with appliances from another generation (but no dishwasher). It wasn’t much, but at least we had free cable since the cable company never disconnected it when the previous owner left. But there, on the back porch of my aunt’s new trailer, I began to loathe that house.
I remember riding home that night in the back seat of our Ford Taurus station wagon, watching the moon follow us home. I remember looking up at that moon and praying to a God I could only hope was real and asking him to give my momma a house. If he’d give us a house I’d do anything (even if it meant going to church every Sunday—God has a great sense of humor!).
It was likely a few weeks later, but in my memories it seems like it was the next day: my mom came home and told us that she had been talking with a doctor at the nursing home where she worked about a trailer and some land one of the nurses was selling when she retired at the end of the year. If things worked out, we were going to be able to buy the trailer and the land. Today, my mom and step-dad still live in that same trailer on that same land, and they own it outright. God gave my momma a house.
I’m sure many of you could tell your own stories of how God provided an answer to one of your prayers. In this season of Thanksgiving, it’s important to take time to look back at all that God has done for you, to thank God for the many ways your prayers have been answered, for the many ways you’ve been cared for by God. When we honestly reflect on all that God has given us, how can we not do what Paul commands the Christians at Philippi to do in verse 4 of the passage we’ve heard today? “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”
As Paul brings this letter to his beloved Philippians to a close, he commands them to be joyful. Joy, however, should not be confused with happiness. Rather, joy is an attitude, a perspective on life. Joy, unlike happiness, does not depend on the result of things that happen in life. Joy does not spring forth from the end results of positive outcomes. No, joy, true joy, grows forth from your genuine relationship with God.[1] That’s why Paul is sure to say “Rejoice in the Lord always…” If you have a sense of joy in your life, it comes from one source—God. If you don’t have true joy “just momentary spells of fleeting happiness) then perhaps as you reflect on all that for which you have to be thankful you should examine your heart, your spirit. Is God the true center of who you are?
You see, that’s what Paul is saying to these early Christians—to us current Christians. God is the true source of joy, and that joy, that God-centered life, is made evident through the selfless way we live with one another. That’s what the apostle is driving at in verse 5:Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.” When Paul speaks of gentleness, he speaks of the kind of spirit that patiently endures the faults of others, a spirit that doesn’t seek revenge when provoked, the kind of spirit that stands in stark opposition to the kind of spirit that is contentious and self-seeking. Paul, with his closing words of this letter, is still addressing some issues of contention and division within the church at Philippi,[2] but that doesn’t mean that his words do not hold true for us in a context two thousand years removed.
In this season of thankfulness, it is easy to reflect on all that God has done for us. It may even be tempting to puff out our chests and brag a bit about all that we’ve done for God. But true thankfulness from the heart of a believer begins with selfless, long-suffering gentleness. Remember that this week as you gather with family and friends, for (if you’re anything like me) there will be times when someone will say something that may grate against your nerves, or there will be those who you will be less than excited to see. May you (may we all) remember the command from the apostle Paul in Holy Scripture: “Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near,” because Paul goes on to tell us in verse 7 “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” 
It’s that “and” at the beginning of verse 7 (the tiny Greek word kai) that is worth noting. It’s more than just a simple conjunction, a part of the language connecting two clauses; it is used in such a way as to say that the words following it are conditionally linked the preceding words.[3] Another way to say what Paul writes is, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone and (when you do) the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” This “peace of God” is more than just an easy, peaceful feeling; it’s more than just some brief experience of quiet tranquility. The peace of God is the peace that God possesses and bestows onto others; it is a peace that leads to contentment.[4] How important it is that we understand that in this season! Contentment can seem like the farthest thing from our spirits when we stop for a brief breath to rush a word of thanks before piling in the car to run to “Black Friday” sales or begin to start our own wish lists. Most importantly, though, this peace from God is not simply the kind of peace experienced by each of us individually: it is the kind of peace that reigns over the whole of who we are as the gathered people of God.[5]
This peace of God is so important to Paul, and it is so important to all of us who call ourselves the people of God, that Paul says in verses 8 and 9:  “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.” There it is again, “the peace of God.” Paul commands the Christians at Philippi to think on the things that are true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing (to God), commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy, but to “think about these things” doesn’t simply mean reflect on them from time to time. No, when Paul tells them to think about these things, he is quick to drive home what he means when he tells them to “keep on doing the[se] things.”
You see, the joy of God, the peace of God, are not things that suddenly dawn upon us in the midst of self-reflecting prayer. The joy and peace of God are not things that overtake us when pause the one day out of the year to give thanks. The joy of God grows out of our living in relationship with God. The peace of God grows out of our actions that are true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing (to God), commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. When we do the things God calls us to do, when we live as God calls us to live, then—then the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will be with us, and it is that peace that lets us rejoice and give thanks.
It is the peace of God that allows us to still have joy when our prayers aren’t answered the way we’d wish God would answer them. It is the peace of God that creates within us the gentleness it takes to be God’s hands and feet in a world that often rejects, while so desperately needing, God. It is the peace of God that fills our hearts and our souls with the kind of contentment that sings with the words of that great hymn by Horatio Spafford: “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,/ When sorrows like sea billows roll;/ Whatever my lot,/ Thou has taught me to say,/ It is well, it is well, with my soul.”
May you let your gentleness be known to everyone. May you experience the joy that can only come from knowing the Lord Jesus Christ. May you experience the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding. If you are here today and do not know such joy, such peace, then I invite you to come forward during our time of commitment and give yourself to the One who is the ultimate source of joy and peace, so that you may add to your thanksgiving a new spirit of gentleness, contentment, joy, and peace as a follower of the Lord Jesus.
Let us pray…



[1] David E. Garland. The Expositor’s Bible Commentary: Volume 12. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, MI (2006) p.252.
[2] Garland, p.252.
[3]Frank Theilman, The NIV Application Commentary: Philippians. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, MI (1995) p.219.
[4] Garland, p.253.
[5] Ibid.

Fixing a Foundation for Our Future: Part 4 of 4 from a Stewardship Series for the First Baptist Church of Williams

There's no manuscript for this sermon (I used a full outline), so here's the video recording from the service (the sermon starts around the 40 minute mark). I've posted it simply for closure to the series on this blog.

Fearlessness for Our Future: Part 3 of 4 from a Stewardship Series for the First Baptist Church of Williams

Luke 9:57-62
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go." 58 And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." 59 To another he said, "Follow me." But he said, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." 60 But Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." 61 Another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home." 62 Jesus said to him, "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God."

            Tex Avery is probably best known for creating characters like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, but in the late 1940s and early 1950s he directed a trilogy of animated shorts satirizing the popular live-action shorts of the day that predicted the technology of the future, and in 1949, the first of those short films premiered in theatres across America. The two following shorts were titled The Television of Tomorrow (in 1953) and The Farm of Tomorrow (in 1954).[1] But in that first short in ’49, audiences were given a satirical glimpse one hundred years into the future with a detailed tour of The House of Tomorrow.
            It’s the year 2050, and the house of tomorrow is a fully prefabricated home that can fit easily into one’s pocket or purse when collapsed into nothing more than a small box, yet when it is activated, it becomes a sprawling house with all the comforts and “bells and whistles” one could ever want. There are separate entrances for every member of the family: the dog, the son, the wife, the husband, and even the mother-in-law (a running gag throughout the cartoon). The carpet in the house of tomorrow is so plush and thick one sinks in neck-deep when walking across the room. There are all kinds of buttons that control all kinds of things in the house of tomorrow: there’s a button that regulates moisture in the home by releasing a small rain cloud into the room; there’s a button that turns a luxurious home into a rundown shack when the tax assessor comes knocking. There are several automatic machines in the house of tomorrow too: there’s a machine that answers all those questions your children tend to ask, an automatic sandwich maker that shuffles and deals the parts of your sandwich like a deck of cards, an automatic electric shaver that can get such a close shave it can take your mouth and nose clean off your face! The house of tomorrow even has new kitchen appliances like a pressure cooker that can prepare an entire meal and an oven with a clear door, so the cook can see everything that’s going on (not all of Tex Avery’s predictions were so hilariously wild).
            It’s a funny little cartoon about what folks in 1949 must have thought about the year 2050, a year that seemed to be in some distant, space age a century down the road. But here we are, in 2013, just 37 years away from 2050, and while some of Tex Avery’s predictions about 2050 may have missed the mark, there are some organizations today which are making some educated and precise predictions about the year 2050. They’re predictions that will have a direct effect on the future of our country, our culture, and (perhaps most importantly) our church.
            In the July-August 2010 issue of Smithsonian (the magazine published by the Smithsonian institute), Joel Kotkin explores “The Changing Demographics of America” by the year 2050.[2] Here are some of the facts Kotkin lists based on available census data that I find most interesting: by the year 2050 the population of the United States will have exceeded 400 million people (that’s nearly 80-100 million more than today); 13% of the population today is 65 or older, but by 2050 that number will rise to 20%; the number of people 15-64 years old, however, will grow by 42%, while in other developed countries that number will actually shrink! Over the next 40 years an estimated one million people will move from poor, undeveloped countries to developed nations. Between 1990 and 2005 immigrants started one out of every four venture-backed companies in this country, and in 2007, fifteen CEOs on the Forbes 100 list were immigrants or direct descendants of immigrants: that is a trend that is expected to only go up. In 2050, it is predicted that whites will no longer be the majority: today, minorities make up around 30% of the U.S. population, but by 2050 minorities will make up over 50% of the population, with the Latino and Asian populations more than tripling. While today, 25% of children under the age of five are Hispanic, by the year 2050 that number will rise to 40%. Minorities will become the driving force behind the continued development of suburbs, particularly as the trend towards city centers cyclically reverses itself, and more and more people (more of whom will be minorities) will move beyond the city limits into suburbs and rural areas taking their businesses and development with them. [3]
            Needless to say, the year 2050 is going to look very different from 2013, and we have to ask ourselves, “What are we going to do here at the First Baptist Church of Williams to prepare ourselves for ministry in such a world?” Church, while I can’t see 37 years into the future to see what it’s going to take to “touch lives by sharing the love of Jesus” in 2050, I do know one thing: to be a congregation that shares the good news of God’s love in Christ Jesus in the future, we have to be a congregation with the fearlessness to follow Christ here and now in the present.
            Take another look at the text we’ve read this morning. Jesus encounters three individuals on the way with his disciples. The first, volunteers to follow Jesus—to take upon himself the yoke of discipleship, but Jesus makes sure he knows the deep, difficult reality that faces those of us who truly seek to follow him. “Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’" If we are going to commit to following Jesus into the future, we must have fearlessness in parting with what we have come to believe we own. Following Jesus means that there may come times when all one has to depend on is the kindness of strangers and the providence of God. Jesus tells this man that the life of discipleship is one that may result in owning nothing. And I want you to hear that for the real, earth-shattering truth it is.
            See, I know at first, most of think this is already a difficult demand to expect to have nowhere to lay our heads, but when we honestly reflect on all the things we “own” in our culture today—not only as individuals, but—collectively as groups of people, well, the truth is we have “owned” an awful lot. As Christians, we have “owned” a sense of entitlement and influence in a culture initiated and shaped by the early Puritans, Anglicans, and Congregationalists of this country, but as recent studies and surveys have shown, more and more people are referring to themselves as “religiously unaffiliated;” church growth is being outpaced by population growth in every state but Hawaii; older, mid-sized churches (like ours) are shrinking, while small and large churches are growing, and by 2050 (there’s that year again) the percentage of the U.S. population attending church is predicted to be half of what it was in 1990.[4] Frankly, these numbers result from a majority of Christians and their churches feeling entitled to the influence of being in the majority and growing complacent, while looking for easy, one-size-fits-all approaches to simply increase the three “B’s”: Budgets, Buildings, and Butts in the pews.
            If we, Christ’s Church, are going to prove such statistics wrong and reverse the trends that are heading in those directions, we must commit ourselves to following Christ fearlessly into the future. We are going to have to risk losing the sense of influence and comfort we have had in this country for so long as Christians. We are going to have to give up the outdated (and frankly sinful) idea that churches are fortresses where people who share the same social ideals and only people with the same color skin can gather one or two days a week and relive “the good ole days” in some sort of fantastical respite from “the real world.” If we are going to follow Christ into the future, we must have fearlessness in parting with all of those social entitlements we’ve enjoyed for so long and commit ourselves wholly and completely to Jesus.
That is essentially what Jesus tells the man who responds to his call in verse 59 by saying, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” We should not try to gloss over Jesus’ words here by trying to explain that maybe this man’s father was sick and only close to death, or that the man’s request is to bury his father’s bones after a year of decomposition in a tomb. The burial of a relative was an extremely important cultural (and even religious) act: in fact, it was so important that there are exceptions made to laws regarding uncleanness and required religious practices just for the burial of a relative.[5] Jesus tells this man that discipleship is a commitment to follow Jesus so completely, with a fearlessness that breaks the expectations of culture and the contrived obligations of the world.  
            But there’s something more here that Jesus says in this passage from Luke’s gospel, something I think might hit awful close to the bone.  Hear once again the words from this third person who crosses Jesus’ path in verses 61: “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home." It’s a simple request, one the prophet Elisha was granted by his predecessor Elijah in 1 Kings 19:19-21[6]: this man simply wants to return to his home and kiss his momma one last time, shake his father’s hand, hug his siblings, and maybe even enjoy one last meal with his family while reminiscing about childhood play-dates, family vacations, and holidays at Grandma’s house. But Jesus’ words are hard:  ‘No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’ Following Jesus into the future takes fearlessness to leave the past behind you.
            In that old evangelistic sense, this seems like something we’re all anxious and willing to do. We want to put our sinful pasts behind us; all of us want to put those days when we lived lives ignorant of God’s presence and God’s love for us. However, we seem to have trouble leaving the past behind us when it comes to those times of pride and triumph. Whether it’s the middle-aged Texan whose aged and fattened fingers bulge around a gold ring on his right hand as he tells of that last second touchdown that “won state back in ’74,” or the woman in her thirties who still speaks with a slightly arrogant sense of authority on all things European just because she spent one semester abroad in college, or that one church that still clings to the notion that it’s going strong because back in the ‘80s they took that one mission trip out West to help build that church, they all have a much harder time not looking over their shoulder to check out how straight the plow lines are.
            I’m afraid that sometimes, we can get so caught up in the fact that we once did something great that we forget that Christ is calling us forward, ahead, on to something else, something more. I’m afraid, church, that we can get so proud of ourselves and the things we’ve done, that we might spend too much time looking behind us, checking out all that we’ve plowed, that we forget to look forward to all the ground ahead of us, ground God is calling us to break.
“No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Friends, I hope you know God has a lot up ahead for us. There’s a lot of ground out there that Jesus is calling us to break, and it’s far too much for us to simply look back and be content with only what we’ve accomplished so far. We are called to follow Jesus with a fearlessness for our future, a fearlessness in parting with all of the things we’ve come to believe we own, a fearlessness in breaking with the expectations of our culture and created requirements of this world, a fearlessness in leaving everything behind so that we may focus our eyes, our hearts, our minds, and all that we are on Christ as he goes ahead of us. That is what we are being asked to do even now as you pray for God’s direction in how you will be good stewards of your time and energy in the ministries of this congregation. That is what we are being asked to do even now as we pray for bold faith in trusting God and one another with our tithes and offerings as we seek to be good financial stewards of all that God has given us. That is what we are being asked to do as we gather in this place for worship and as we scatter from this place for kingdom work.
May we be people who go boldly forward after Jesus. May we be people who put our hands to the plow and never look back. May we be people who are found fit for the kingdom of God as we seek to do with will of God with fearlessness for our future.
Let us pray…



[1] One can find videos of all three shorts with their release dates here at this page from vimeo.com: http://vimeo.com/32889552
[3] Ibid.
[5] Mark Strauss, “Luke,” Zondervan Illustrated Bible Background Commentary. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, MI (2002) p.409.
[6] Fred B. Craddock, Interpretation: Luke. Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, KY (2009) p.144.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Fearlessness of Our Foremothers and Forefathers: Part 2 of 4 from a Stewardship Series for the First Baptist Church of Williams

Acts 7:54-60
54 When they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen. 55 But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56 "Look," he said, "I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" 57 But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. 58 Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. 59 While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." 60 Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he died.

            Fearlessness. That’s the word that comes to mind when I reflect on this story of Stephen, the first martyr of the Christian Church. Stephen was fearless. He was fearless as he did great signs and wonders among the people. He was fearless as he stood up to those who argued against him—“those who belonged to the synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called), Cyrenians, Alexandrians, and others of those from Cilicia and Asia” (Acts 6:9). He was fearless as he faced the conspiracies of false witnesses and endured being brought before the high priest in order to answer for those trumped up charges of blasphemy. He was fearless as he boldly proclaimed the truth of the gospel, the reality that God does not dwell in houses built by mortal hands, and he was fearless as he retold the history of how God’s prophets were persecuted by God’s own people. He was fearless in the face of rising anger and the grinding teeth of hatred. He was fearless as he gazed towards the sky and saw a vision of Christ standing as his only witness to the testimony of faith he had given, and he was fearless as he shouted to the lynch mob, "Look…I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" He was fearless right to the very end, for even as the rocks ripped his skin and crushed his bones he was fearless enough to forgive his executioners, just as his Lord had done from the cross on which he himself had been executed: "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." Stephen was fearless, and it was his fearlessness that cost him his life, but it was that same fearlessness that helped to start a fire that spread across the empire and the known world. His critics, his accusers, his murderers, even his own death could not stop the good work Stephen had started with the Good News of God’s in-breaking kingdom. Fearlessness: that’s the word that comes to my mind when I reflect on Stephen’s story, and it is a word that comes to mind when I reflect on others’ stories in the history of Christ’s Church.
            Fearlessness is a word that comes to mind when I think on the life of Francis of Assisi in the thirteenth century. St. Francis was fearless as he abandoned the wealth and luxury of the life that was his for the living in order to live among and serve the poor. Fearlessness is a word that comes to mind when I think of that radical Augustinian monk, who on October 31, 1517 walked up to the church in Wittenberg, Germany and nailed his 95 Theses  to its door; fearlessness is the word to describe that same monk, Martin Luther, as he stood before a panel of his accusers at the Diet of Worms, and, when asked to recant his writings on the gospel of Christ, he said, "Unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason - I do not accept the authority of the popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other - my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. God help me. Amen."[1]
            Fearlessness is the word that comes to mind when I think on our Baptist forbearers. Thomas Helwys was fearless when he wrote to King James I (yes, that King James) declaring that “the state could not act punitively in religious matters against the heretic, the non-Christian, or the atheist.”[2] Roger Williams was fearless when, in the 1640s, he began the colony of Rhode Island, a colony in which the first Baptist church in America was established and a colony with a reputation for religious liberty for all. Fearlessness describes Baptist pastor John Leland and his fight for religious liberty and his influence with James Madison and Thomas Jefferson. Williams and Leland were both fearless with their radical idea of a nation that promoted religious liberty and the separation of Church and State.[3]
            Then there are those fearless forbearers whose testimonies rest closer to us on the slide rule of history. In 1832, Eleanor Macomber was the first single woman funded directly by the Mission Board of the Triennial Convention (the forerunner to the Southern Baptist Convention); she was appointed as an evangelist and church organizer in Burma. In 1849, Harriet A. Baker became the first single woman appointed by the four-year-old Southern Baptist Convention; she was appointed to Canton, China. It wasn’t until 1872 that another single woman would be appointed to the mission field; it would be two single women in fact: Lula Whilden and Edmonia Harris Moon. You likely know Edmonia’s sister better than you know any other missionary: her name was Charlotte Diggs Moon, but folks just call her Lottie.[4] If you’ve grown up in a Baptist church in the last century you’ve no doubt heard the stories of Miss Lottie’s fearlessness, the way she shared the gospel in a foreign country, the way she lived with the people (there’s even a story surrounding her death that she starved to death as the people she served were also starving).[5] These first single women, Baptist, missionaries were fearless as they took the gospel to foreign people in strange lands in a time when women were less than empowered by their Christian brethren.
            Of course, some of you in this room know firsthand the kind of fearlessness it takes to do the kind of radical, empowering, risky, gospel-inspired, Christ-honoring things that can lead to just a touch of controversy.
If you take the paper (whether in print or online) there’s still a good chance you might have missed it. I promise it was there though, on page 2A of Thursday’s Anniston Star. Here are the first three sentences of that little almanac article from October 24, 1988: “In northern Calhoun County there’s little to set the First Baptist Church of Williams apart, and no hint of the controversy that has surrounded it since Sept. 25. That Sunday saw six new deacons ordained—four men and two women. The ordination of women at Williams came as a shock to some Baptist churches in the county.”[6] This church took the fearless move to ordain Peggy Hamby (a woman who could tell me the sky is green and I wouldn’t bother to look out the window to know I’d believe her!) and the late Dean Norton to serve as deacons to this congregation. It was a fearless move that led to one of the highest attended meetings of the Calhoun Baptist Association at Parker Memorial in Anniston, where a vote of 331 to 269 caused the association to refuse to seat this church’s messengers and expel this church from membership in the association.[7] After the vote was taken, the members of this church that were in attendance (perhaps some of you in this room) did not raise shouts of protest, but instead—with the quiet dignity I am coming to learn defines this community—“left quietly through a side door.”[8]
That fearless act twenty-five years ago in many ways has come to define this congregation, but not how you might think. Rather than being known as the Baptist step-child of Calhoun County, among sisters and brothers in other Christian traditions in our county, this congregation has the reputation of being welcoming, loving, encouraging, missional, progressive, intelligent, and—above all—Christ-centered. That fearless act did not come without pain, without consequence: this congregation—and Peggy and Dean especially—was exposed to less-than-loving words and thoughts from others in our county, and there are still those who hold a less-than-favorable opinion of this congregation (which may not have been helped in the minds of those who hold such opinions when word got out you called me as your next pastor!).
Furthermore, that fearless act was not undertaken without a great deal of prayer, research, and the study of Scripture. I know because I’ve read the account of Lee Messer, a former member of this church, as he recorded it on our church’s history:
 Since being directed to reconsider our position by the Calhoun Association…we have again prayerfully researched and studied the Scripture; consulted credible biblical scholars and have scrutinized publications of other mainstream biblical authorities; examined local, state, and national precedents; and reviewed the history of the Baptist Church (sic) with particular emphasis on the role of women in the early Baptist churches. Relying upon the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we still unanimously concur with our original decision to permit any qualified and elected Christian to serve as a Deacon Family Minister. Albeit we are not the only Baptist Church (sic) in the State Convention to elect qualified women as deacons, we feel comfortable to have women serve in this vital calling.
We believe that our selection is biblical.[9]

            It was a fearless, biblical act that has lead us to where we are today as the First Baptist Church of Williams.
            There is a great legacy of fearlessness behind us, friends. There is the fearlessness of those patriarchs and matriarchs of Scripture: Noah, Abraham, Moses, Ruth, Esther, the prophets, Mary (Jesus’ mother), the apostles. There is the fearlessness of all those sisters and brothers throughout the history of Christ’s Church who have boldly risked so much in order to live the life Christ calls us all to live, to proclaim the gospel with our words and actions. There are those familiar examples of fearlessness that occupy these pews and live in the spirit of this congregation. Above all else, there is the fearlessness of our Lord himself as he willingly laid his life down and died upon the cross as the Lamb of God who came to take away the sins of the world.
            We have a great legacy of fearlessness for God’s kingdom behind us, but what can we do to add to that legacy today? What bold actions might God be calling us to do as a congregation? What bold actions might God be calling you to do?  Over the next few weeks as you prayerfully consider how you will be good stewards of your time to the ministries of this congregation and as you prayerfully consider how God is calling you to be good stewards of the financial needs of this congregation, take time to reflect on the legacy of fearlessness left by those who have gone before us in the history of Christ’s Church. Spend time with the Scriptures; listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit. Don’t confuse the simple writing of a check or having your name listed on a committee as a fearless act for Christ—do something! If you’re limited by illness, income, or circumstances beyond your control, then pray with boldness! Pray that God will use this congregation to do new, fearless things for God’s kingdom.
May we continue the fearless pursuit of bringing God’s kingdom to earth as it is in heaven. May we boldly follow the call of the Holy Spirit no matter the consequences. May we all give of ourselves to the kingdom work of Christ’s Church as the First Baptist Church of Williams. And as we look forward to celebrating 163 years with our Homecoming celebration next week, may we reflect on the way God has used the fearlessness of this congregation in the past, and may it empower us to fearless acts of generosity, grace, forgiveness, and love. May we all seek together to be fearless for Christ.
Let us pray…
           




[2] Bill Leonard, Baptist Ways. Judson Press: Valley Forge, PA (2003) p.9.
[3] Ibid., p.130-131.
[4] Ibid. p.176.
[6] from The Anniston Star. October 24, 2013, p. 2A. (Emphasis mine).
[7] Wayne Flynt, Alabama Baptists: Southern Baptists in the Heart of Dixie. The University of Alabama Press: Tuscaloosa, AL (1998) p.586.
[8] from A People Who Shared a Vision: History of the Church at Williams, 1850-200. Higginbotham Printing: Anniston, AL (200) p101.
[9] Ibid. p.97.