Friday, April 25, 2014

Again, from the Top (Second Sunday in Lent)

John 3:1-17
1 Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2 He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." 3 Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." 4 Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" 5 Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6 What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Do not be astonished that I said to you, "You must be born from above.' 8 The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." 9 Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" 10 Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things? 11 "Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. 16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. 17 "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

            My college roommate used to have this irritating…let’s call it a habit. He would hear a song, say on the radio, or on a television show, or in a movie, and he would instantly think it was the best song in the world. So, he would download the song or even buy the CD which contained the song and proceed to play it on a non-stop loop…for days…so many days. It wouldn’t just be the song he played in his car; it wasn’t just the song he played on his iPod while he studied; it wasn’t just the song that he used as his morning alarm. He would play that one, single song constantly, even set it as his ring tone so that it would play every time he got a phone call! This would go on for weeks until he would hear another song that he thought was the greatest song ever, and then the cycle would start all over. As his roommate, he could ruin a song for me if he decided he liked it. The sad thing is there were some of those songs I liked in the beginning, but by the time I had heard it a thousand times in a week, it was worn-out for me.
            I’ve found that’s the way a lot of things go in our lives. Things that begin as favorites, as things we cherish and deem valuable, eventually become worn-out. Our favorite blue jeans, jeans we used to wear all the time, one day become so worn out they find their way to that part of our closet, that drawer for clothes we only wear when we’re working in the yard or around the house. When I was in the second grade, I had a favorite pair of shoes (they were shoes with the cartoon character Beetlejuice on them, and they had glow-in-the-dark beetles and skulls on them—they were pretty cool), and I had worn those shoes so much that the soles started to separate from the shoe (they weren’t very expensive shoes). Well, I eventually had to wrap duct tape around them just to keep them together they were so worn-out, but they were my favorite shoes. Some of you remember cassette tapes and how, after playing them over and over for so long, the tape inside the cassette would stretch and the songs would start to drag a little bit; of course, that only happened on with your favorite cassettes.
            After a while, our favorite things become worn-out because they’re our “go-to” things, the items with which we’re most comfortable, the things are easiest to use, the things with which we’re the most at-home. When these things get worn-out, however, we just don’t use them as much as we used to, or we don’t pay near as much attention to them. I’m afraid the same is true when it comes to those parts of Holy Scripture that were once so fresh, familiar, and wonderful to us, yet over time have become cliché, threadbare, and worn-out. We can hear them so often, over and over again, that after a while they become like those favorite pair of jeans or that favorite cassette tape—worn-out, and we just don’t hear them the same way anymore.
            This passage of Scripture before us this morning may be the most worn-out passage of Scripture of the last century. John 3:16 may be the most recognized, memorized, recited, and reprinted verse in all of Scripture. It’s been around since the author of the fourth gospel put pen to parchment, but this verse’s popularity in recent decades can likely be traced to one man in rainbow wig, with facial hair and glasses that would make any post-modern hipster jealous. That man’s name is Rollen Stewart, better known as “Rockin’ Rollen” or “The Rainbow Man.” In the late seventies and eighties Rollen could be seen on television at major sporting events with his rainbow wig and large posters with Bible citations printed on them. His favorite: John 3:16. Rollen is currently serving three consecutive life sentences in prison on kidnapping charges related to an 1992 incident when he believed the rapture was going to take place in six days, so he held a maid hostage in a hotel room and plastered the walls and windows with signs, and on those signs…”John 3:16.”[1]
            Of course, there have been others in more recent years who have shined the popular spotlight on this single verse from the Bible. In the late 1990s, it was a professional wrestler named “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, who often wore vests with “Austin 3:16” bedazzled on the back (to be fair, this isn’t exactly the same thing, but it did bring attention to the source material). And then there is Tim Tebow, who often sported Bible verse citation on his eye-black patches during football games. One of his favorites: John 3:16. This verse of Scripture has become so visible, so cited, that it’s become a bit worn out; it has been pulled from its context in the gospel narrative and been used as a summation of the whole story of God. I think we need to pull this worn-out verse from that part of our faith that that is comfortable, that part of our faith marked “understood,” and really hear this verse in its entire context, so that we can have a refreshed sense of what it actually means to be “born again, anew, or from above.”
            Many of you in here could probably recite this story from memory: Nicodemus (not to be confused with the wee little man Zacchaeus) was a Pharisee and a member of the Jewish high council called the Sanhedrin, who came to Jesus “by night” in order to learn from the Rabbi. Nicodemus begins the conversation in verse 2: "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." He already has some understanding of who Jesus is. Clearly, to Nicodemus, Jesus has God’s blessing, God’s power to do these great signs. Nicodemus doesn’t have the chance to ask a question, to pose a problem before Jesus responds in verse 3: "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." And that is where this conversation, covered by the darkness of night, begins to take on a different tone…or does it?
            You see, for at least the last hundred years, certain Christians have read this story and Jesus’ words about being “born again” (a word that can actually mean “again,” “anew,” or “from above”) and understood them to be about some single event of conversion, some instantaneous change that occurs when one prays a particular prayer. If we really listen to Jesus’ words here and look more closely at Nicodemus himself, however, we may come away with a refreshed understanding of what Jesus is actually saying here to the nocturnal Nicodemus and to us.
            You see, one of the important themes in John’s gospel is light, light and darkness. Throughout this gospel, Jesus is calling people to come out of the darkness—the darkness of selfishness, the darkness of sin, the darkness that separates one from God. Jesus is calling people to come of the darkness and into the light—the light of truth, the light of love, the light of a life lived in close communion with God. It’s no incidental placement of plot for Nicodemus to come to Jesus by night (in fact, the last time we hear about Nicodemus in chapter 19 of John’s gospel, he is still referred to as the one who came to Jesus by night). Night is the abode of darkness; it’s the time when those who have something to hide, something to fear, go out, so when Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night it isn’t because that’s when his calendar was clear—it’s because Nicodemus is still in the dark, groping for understanding, trying to find the light.
            There, in the dark of night, Jesus tells Nicodemus that one cannot truly see, or hope to understand, the kingdom of God unless they are born from above—born again, but from a different womb, a different source of life. Naturally, Nicodemus is confused, so he asks Jesus how a person can be born a second time, especially a full-grown man. Jesus answers as only Jesus can in verses 5-8: "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."
Do you get it now? Well, neither did Nicodemus. In fact, the last thing we hear from Nicodemus in this conversation in the darkness is in verse 9: "How can these things be?" He’s still in the darkness; things have not been quite brought to light for him yet. Jesus sort of rebukes him in verse 10, but then in verses 11-15 Jesus explains himself, but in doing so transitions his conversation from Nicodemus to those of us hearing his words as he moves from speaking in the second person singular (“you”) to the second person plural (“y’all”): "Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you[pl] about earthly things and you[pl] do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” Nicodemus is silent, and that’s the end of Jesus’ words to him. What follows in verses 16 and 17 are likely the words of the gospel writer (there’s no punctuation in Greek to indicate who is speaking here).
Jesus is calling Nicodemus to come out of the darkness and embrace the light of life in the fullness of who Jesus is. When Jesus speaks of birth from above to Nicodemus, what he is talking about is not some singular instance of conversion—no! Birth isn’t an end to itself; it is a beginning! Nicodemus was quick to confess that God was with Jesus in the signs he was able to perform, but that was as far as Nicodemus was willing to go. To claim much more would be to risk everything—his respectability, his place on the Sanhedrin, even his life as a co-conspirator! Jesus was calling Nicodemus out of the darkness where he could hide his faith, hide his longing to do and be more. Jesus was calling Nicodemus to be born again, from the top, from above, to begin a new life out of the darkness and into the light.
Jesus is calling us all to do the same. Jesus is calling us out of the darkness where we can calmly, quietly, safely practice as much of our faith as we’re comfortable with. Too many of us stay on the darkened edge of our faith, hoping to skate by with a simple confession or certificate that proves we were once dunked or sprinkled. Jesus is calling us out of that! Too many of us are afraid to step into the full light of the good news of God’s kingdom, too afraid to begin a new life, reborn from the above, because to step out into the light means others will see us, others will judge us as crazy, as bleeding-hearts, as gullible, as soft. Jesus calls Nicodemus to be reborn from above, into the light so that he may see more of what God has for him, more of who God is. And Jesus is calling us too, to be reborn into the light, out of the darkness, to experience more of what God has for us, more of who God is, and more of what God’s kingdom looks like here and now.
The final verses of our passage this morning—words so familiar to us—have a deeper meaning in the light: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Where in the past these verses may have been used as a sort of litmus test to divide those who were bound for glory from those damned to hell, we read them today knowing that the life God promises to those who believe is a life that begins here and now, in the full light of God’s love. May we who believe in God and his sent Son Jesus, step out of the dark, out of the shrouded shadows that keep us from living our faith out loud, in the daylight for all the world to see. May those of you who have not believed, who have simply set on the dark edges of belief waiting for God to show God’s self to you, be reborn this day so that you may begin a new life in the light of God’s love, a new life lived in God’s kingdom. May we all hear Christ’s words to Nicodemus as an invitation to step out of the darkness and into the bold, loving light of faith.
Let us pray…

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

It is Good for Us to be Here (Transfiguration Sunday)

Matthew 17:1-9
1 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3 Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4 Then Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." 5 While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" 6 When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7 But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." 8 And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. 9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."

             A few years back, Sallie and I (along with another couple of our friends) loaded up our car for a trip out to the Mid-West. A college friend of ours was getting married in Kansas, so we decided to make a road-trip vacation out of the drive. The four of us left a couple of days before the weeding, because we were going to make a stop in St. Louis, where we would meet up with another couple, spend a night or two, then all six of us would head on to Kansas for the wedding.
            I have to tell you, I really enjoyed our time in St. Louis. It’s a great city, with all kinds of attractions. We stayed within walking distance of Union Station, a former hub of transportation in the city, which is now a grand museum/shopping center/all-around tourist attraction. We visited the St. Louis Science center and just missed visiting the St. Louis Zoo (one of the best zoos in the country as we came to find out). One couple went to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium, and we drove or walked past Edward Jones Stadium (home of the St. Louis Rams) several times. Of course, when one is in St. Louis one has to go visit the arch, and we did just and learned all about the “gateway to the West.” We ate some great food while we were in St. Louis too, but my favorite thing we did during our time there was visit the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis.
            The Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis is not your typical church—oh no. The grand, stone church is an imposing site with its green-tiled roof, massive dome, and towering spires standing on either side of the grand entrance, overlooked by an enormous rose window. The church was given the designation of “basilica” by Pope John Paul II in 1997, and the Pope even visited the church two years later.[1] Inside is one of the largest collections of mosaics in the Western Hemisphere. It’s truly a site to see. When we visited the church, I spent most of the time with my head tilted back, amazed by all of the intricate work that went in to crafting the mosaics that covered the ceilings. There were scenes from Scripture, sparkling in bits of gold and blue and red. There were images of important figures in the history of the church in shades of brown and green. I could have spent hours in that place simply walking, gazing upward at all of the wonderful art that adorned that sacred space, but I knew we wouldn’t spend long there.
            When I felt like I might have been holding the others up, I let my head slowly crane down, back to its normal, forward-facing position. I was standing at the very front of the church, between the altar and the first row of chairs, and I as I took one final look at that awe-inspiring interior of sacred art, my eyes fell on one final scene that—in that moment—said more to me than any of the others I had gazed upon in that place. It wasn’t, however, a scene constructed of gold tiles or marble; it wasn’t a scene painted in the brilliant colors of a fresco from the Renaissance. No, what I saw was in fact, not what one might call art at all. You see, the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis is a massive building, a grand site that attracts tourists whether they be Catholic, Protestant, or none of the above, but it first and foremost a church. And there in that church, amidst dozens of tourist snapping pictures with their cameras, amidst the frozen golden gazes of the saints, there in one of the hard, wooden chapel chairs I saw a woman with her hands folded in her lap, her headed tilted downward as if she were counting the cracks in the floor—she was praying.
            In a place where one might find it easy to be awestruck by the magnificence of sacred art and holy decoration, in a place where one could possibly get caught up in the grand images of faith, in a place where I could stay for hours and marvel at the beauty of what my eyes could behold, there, in that place, something far holier, far more precious, was unfolding. One woman, created in God’s image, was praying, speaking with her God. I don’t know what she was praying for or about. Perhaps she was simply doing what so few of us do when we pray, listening. In that instance, I realized that while it would have been wonderful to stay in that beautiful, sacred place for hours, there was so much more to what God was doing outside of those stone walls. There is more to what God does than simply what we can observe with our eyes.
            In the passage of Holy Scripture we’ve read together today, something grand, wonderful, and mysterious happens. Six days before this scene on the mountain, though, Jesus told his disciples the truth about where all of this was going to wind up. Matthew says in chapter 16, verse 21: “Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Peter (the one who always seems to speak before he thinks in the gospels) tells Jesus this is never going to happen, and Jesus rebukes Peter, even calls him Satan! Jesus tells of the necessity of his followers’ self-denial, how if they wish to follow him they’ll have to give themselves up, take up a cross, and follow him, presumably to their own deaths. Then, six days later, the scene we’ve read here today takes place.
Matthew tells us: “Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.”
            Now try to see this in your mind’s eye as if you were Peter, James, or John: Jesus has taken you up a mountain (sounding a bit like Moses, which shouldn’t surprise any close reader of Matthew’s gospel)—just you and the other two, the rest of the disciples are presumably at the base of the mountain or out on a snack run. When you reach the top, suddenly, Jesus morphs right before your eyes: he’s no longer the dark-skinned, Near-Easterner that Hollywood never portrays; he’s no longer the man who’s walked with you on the shores of Lake Galilee or broke bread with you at the dinner table. Now he is transformed into this luminous, divine, person, with a solar powered complexion and clothes so bright they dazzle in the daylight. And is if that weren’t enough, Moses and Elijah (the embodied Law and Prophets) appear and the three of them strike up a conversation about only God knows what.
What would you do? I mean, the man who just told you he was going to die and rise again, the man you’ve seen feed thousands of people from a kid’s sack lunch, has suddenly taken on an appearance that can only be described as divine and he’s carrying on a conversation with two of the biggest heroes of your faith and ancestral history as if he’s known them forever. In a moment like that it would be easy to get caught up in what’s happening right in front of you. In a moment like that perhaps you’d want time to stand still just so you could be in the presence of these three men for as long as possible. In a moment like that maybe you’d want to break out a quill and parchment and start asking for autographs!
Well, Peter went one better. Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." Peter doesn’t want autographs. He doesn’t want a picture with the Son of Man and the two “saints of old.” No, Peter wants to build three tabernacles, three chapels, one for each of them, so they can stay on the mountain, so they can keep this holy happening going for as long as they all can stand it. Peter says, “Lord, it is good for us to be HERE.” “It is good for us to be on this mountain, in this moment, in the midst of all of this great and wonderful holiness, in the midst of this spectacle….”
Then God cuts him off.
Right as Peter was professing his desire to build the three dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, God interrupts: there is a theophany in the midst of this Christophany. Matthew tells us in verse 5: “While [Peter] was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’" While Peter (and presumably James and John as well) are enthralled by Jesus’ transfiguration, the voice of God Almighty interrupts Peter’s grandstanding in order to tell him and those with him to listen to Jesus. Peter wants to build monuments, commemorate the moment, recognize the importance of what is taking place. Peter wants the visible wonder of the transfiguration to endure; he never wants this “mountaintop experience” to end, but God God’s-self shakes Peter out of such a self-involved attempt at recognizing what is taking place on the mountain. And God does so with a simple command: “Listen to him!”
Such a thunderous interruption from the midst of this bright cloud instills such fear in the three disciples that they seem to be petrified, incapable of standing on their feet. It is only when they hear the familiar voice of Jesus say, "Get up and do not be afraid” that they rise to their feet and descend down the mountain where Jesus invokes what we call the “messianic secret” and instructs Peter, James, and John to tell no one about the vision they encountered on the mountain. They had to come down from the mountain; they had to face the reality of life on the ground; they had to leave behind any thoughts about constructing tabernacles in an attempt to prolong their spiritual high; they had to come down and listen to Jesus.
Friends, we have to come down from the mountain. We have to face reality of life on the ground—the reality of our lives and the lives of those around us. We have to leave behind any thoughts about constructing our own boxes in which to keep the Almighty; we’ve got to move beyond the memories of spiritual highs that keep us tethered to the past. We have to listen to Jesus. Far too often, on days like this, we look around and say, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” We hear songs we like; we see people we like; we get a feeling of joy and comfort, and so many of us want to keep it going for ourselves, try to do whatever we can to keep the flame of that feeling burning. We want to stay on the mountaintop. “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”
But life is lived down from the mountain. The call of Christ to “come and follow me” meets us on the ground, not up in the clouds. To put this in perhaps more tangible, realistic terms, while it is good for us to be here in this room on the Lord’s Day for worship, while it is good for us to be here together to study Scripture and pray together on Sunday and Wednesday evenings, while it is good for us to be here in this place where we meet God, God is still interrupting our desire to stay cloistered beneath steeples, hidden behind walls, and disguised by doctrines. God is still telling us to listen to Jesus—and Jesus has an awful lot to say to us.
            Jesus is calling each and every one of us to step outside of what we feel is comfortable, to understand that there is more to faith than hunkering down in what you’ve always believed because it’s safe, familiar, and easily managed. Jesus is calling each and every one of us to undo this misguided notion that the only place to see the fullness of Christ is on a mountaintop, that the only way to have church is inside the four walls of a steepled building on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday nights. Jesus is calling us to come follow him, and folks, Jesus ain’t always in the meeting house! He’s not always in the mountaintop. If Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ Transfiguration tells us anything, it’s this: while it may be good for us to be here—whether that’s in this room, in this time, or in your place of life—but Jesus isn’t calling us to stay here.
Let us pray…




[1] You can find all the information about the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis at the website: http://cathedralstl.org/

Monday, February 17, 2014

Flipping the Script (Sixth Sunday after Epiphany)

Matthew 5:21-37
21 "You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, "You shall not murder'; and "whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.' 22 But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, "You fool,' you will be liable to the hell of fire. 23 So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. 25 Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. 26 Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny. 27 "You have heard that it was said, "You shall not commit adultery.' 28 But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell. 31 "It was also said, "Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.' 32 But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery. 33 "Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, "You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.' 34 But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, 35 or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. 36 And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. 37 Let your word be "Yes, Yes' or "No, No'; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

            I recently received what I am sure will be one of the most talked-about books published in recent years. Its title, Christianity after Religion: The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening by Diana Butler Bass. I’ll give you a quick overview of what I’ve read so far: the Church is not nearly as relevant, effective, or meaningful as it was just a generation or two ago, and the Church is not nearly as relevant, effective, or meaningful as those on the inside might like to think it is. People (especially young people, people my age, people often referred to as “millennials”) are leaving organized religion. Not because they don’t like the pastor, not because they don’t like the music, and not because of worship schedules, none of the old “Red Herrings” of church decline in decades past. No, they are leaving because the church has grown stale, self-absorbed, and primarily focused on preserving the institutions that made religion the cultural presence it once was.
These same people have grown disenfranchised with what the Church has become: in fact, they make up the third largest “religious” group (and, by the way, the youngest group) in the United States. Some refer to them as the “nones,” people “with no single issue, theology, or view of God…the ‘nones’ include atheists, agnostics, ‘nothing in particular,’ religiously oriented and secular unaffiliated people.” According to one recent survey, cited by Dr. Bass, “If these trends continue at the current pace, ‘nones’ and other religions combined will outnumber Christians in the United States by about 2042.”[1] There are some in the Church who would argue that the way to prevent these folks from leaving is to program around them, accommodate ministries in the church in order to attract these folks. There are churches that swing from one worship trend to the next, from one form of outreach to the next, from one minister to the next, all in an attempt to draw these “nones” into their congregation, believing that their church is somehow the exception to the rule. The trend of declining church attendance and affiliation, however, continues.
Now, for many of you, this isn’t really news. You’ve read about the so-called “nones;” you’ve heard about the overall decline in church attendance and religious affiliation. It seems one can’t pick up a magazine or open a social networking website without coming across some article about the staggering decline in religious activity. But can I tell you one thing that very few folks are writing about? Can I tell you the one thing that just might prove just how serious the whole issue is? It’s something I came across in Dr. Bass’s book, a note from a pastor named Paul:
After 20 years of parish ministry I am leaving it. My wife, who has been a faithful companion in this journey, is also leaving the church. I have resigned from all my denominational roles, and no one has said a word…Yet, we are sad to leave, because of what it means. It means to us the church has become irrelevant to us. We care about spiritual disciplines of study, worship, confession, and forgiveness, discernment, fellowship, and mission. In the church, I spent more time discussing the replacement of the church roof than on discerning our purpose as a church. We miss the liturgy [i.e. worship] and the relationships, but I do not miss the constant bickering over meaningless garbage, evening meetings, and working every weekend.[2]

You see, as much as those who are leaving the church have grown disenfranchised, disillusioned, and dissatisfied with what they have found, those of us inside the church—even those of us in the clergy—are becoming as equally dissatisfied. But why? What is it that is really causing people to leave the church? What is it that causes ministers like Paul to leave ministry after two decades? What is it that has caused so many of my friends—gifted, talented, called women and men of God—to walk away from the church they once loved and felt called to lead? What is it that is causing these troubling statistics about church attendance and religious affiliation? Well, if I knew the answer, if I held the “silver bullet” that could solve these issues and reverse the trends, I seriously doubt that I would be standing here in this pulpit this morning instead of writing books and speaking in seminaries and theological schools across this country. I do, however, have a hunch as to what a major part of the problem is, and I am convinced that Jesus’ words to us this morning speak to that problem.
Some of you may think I’m talking about Jesus’ words in verses 21-26. There Jesus takes the literal words of the law, “You shall not murder” and gets to the very heart of the matter: “But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,' you will be liable to the hell of fire.” Jesus then goes on to give an example of proactive reconciliation. With these words, Jesus emphasizes the sin of hatred, of that anger that controls our hearts and our lives and separates us from others. Jesus even speaks against the sinful, hateful act of name-calling. He equates these behaviors with murder. But I’m not talking about Jesus’ new definition of murder.
Now, I know some of you may think that I’m talking about Jesus’ words in verses 27-32, where Jesus speaks against adultery and divorce, that the core of what is wrong with our world is a misunderstanding of marriage and the seemingly high rate of adultery and divorce. It’s no secret that many Christians in this country have taken marriage as their primary, cultural concern. But I think Jesus speaks to something even deeper here: Jesus is saying to those living in a patriarchal culture that women are more than pieces of property worth just a bit more than slaves or children. Jesus is saying that women are not simply sexual objects of lust and desire. Jesus’ words are in fact quite radical, for even his words about divorce in this passage redefine the cultural practice in order to preserve the dignity of women and cause men to take their commitments to their wives much more seriously than just a simple, cultural transaction. But I’m not talking about what Jesus has to say about divorce or adultery.
Perhaps some of you caught Jesus’ words in verses 33-37 where he speaks about making vows and swearing oaths. This may seem a bit out there for some of us, because we don’t necessarily live in a culture where we make vows and swear oaths to one another on a daily basis, but Jesus’s words in verse 37 communicate something to us even now, two thousand years and thousands of miles removed from ancient Judea: “Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes' or ‘No, No'; anything more than this comes from the evil one.” Jesus is speaking of the righteousness of truth-telling, that when one is involved either in business or simple conversation with another person, he or she ought to simply tell the truth without the need to swear by something in order to get a point across. But I’m not talking about what Jesus has to say about truth-telling or swearing oaths and making vows.
No, I’m not talking about any of those things specifically. I think Jesus’ words speak to something else, something bigger, something that lies at the core of the decline in religious identity and congregational connectivity. You see, every word Jesus speaks in this portion of the Sermon on the Mount has one very important thing in common. Whether Jesus speaks about the hatred as murder, name-calling, the need for self-motivated reconciliation, adultery, lust, divorce, making vows, swearing oaths, or truth-telling, Jesus is talking about the ways in which we treat each other. In other words, every single one of Jesus’ teachings in this passage aren’t meant to be picked apart and put back together as dogmatic directives, aimed at those on the outside, those we choose to see as unlike us. No, Jesus’ words in this passage speak to the necessity of treating those around us, those like us and especially those unlike us, with the dignity of human beings created in God’s image. That is what I believe lies at the core of those troubling statistics. That is what I believe to be at the core of why people are leaving the church and religion altogether by the truckload.
People are not disappointed with the style of worship a congregation offers on Sunday morning. People are not dissatisfied by the lack of service opportunities, Bible studies, or worship services they are offered. Those who are leaving the church (and those who aren’t coming the first place) are not doing so because they don’t like Jesus and what he has to say about things. In fact, it seems that it’s actually quite the opposite: people are leaving because they find that the work of the Church doesn’t seem to line up with the words of Jesus! In fact, according to a survey done by the Barna organization in 2004, young adults outside of the church (whether they left the church or were never a part of it to begin with) had some very negative views about the Church formed, no doubt, by their own experiences with the Church: 91% of them viewed Christianity as “antihomosexual,” 87% said Christians were “judgmental,” 85% saw churchgoers as “hypocritical,” and 72% viewed Christianity as “out of touch with reality,” while only 41% thought Christianity seems “genuine or real,” and only 30% thought that it was “relevant to their life.”[3]
Now, you can chalk this up to an increasingly secular society. You can blame it on policies, politicians, celebrities, or the internet. But the truth is, we believers bear the weight of the responsibility, because we have allowed things like (in the words of Pastor Paul) “the constant bickering over meaningless garbage” to get in the way of what Christ calls us to be. We have allowed the preservation of institutions (whether they be antique brass, brick and mortar, or antiquated practices) to take the place of the mission of God. We have put the call to love our neighbor as ourselves on the back burner while trying to halt the wheels of progress and slow the passing of time. We have taken the words of Christ like the ones we have heard this morning and boiled them down to points of finite doctrine in an attempt to justify our judgment of others, all the while ignoring the real truth in what Jesus has to say to US.
If we truly want to reverse the trends, if we genuinely wish to see fewer people leaving religion, leaving the Church, then we are going to have to start being the kind of Church Christ calls us to be—and I’m not just talking about this congregation, I mean the capital “C” Church. We must live out the truth in Christ’s words we’ve heard today, that every human being is made in the image of God and therefore worthy of dignity and love. We must learn that even though the world might tell us otherwise, there is not a single soul that is above or below another, so everyone (and I mean everyone) with whom we cross paths we ought to treat with dignity and love. Jesus’ words tell us that there are no loop-holes, no fine print that sets us free to treat others as less than one made in the image of God.
So church, I want to challenge you this morning, each and every one of you, to flip the script, to refuse to do church the way we’ve always done it just because that’s the way we’ve always done it. I want to challenge you to be the kind of person Christ desires you to be: the kind of person who reserves judgment for the only One who has the authority to judge, the kind of person who shares love and kindness with others because they are made in the image of God, the kind of person who lives the faith she proclaims, the kind of person who walks the faith he talks, the kind of person who helps create the kind of church that says to those who are leaving, those who have never wanted to have a part, “we are through with wasting our energy on self-preserving habits, and we desire to live and serve in the way that Jesus call us.” I want to challenge you to be that kind of person, to be that kind of church.
The change has to start somewhere, with someone. Why can’t it be you, us, right here, today?
Let us pray…




[1] Diana Butler Bass, Christianity after Religion: The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening. Harper One: New York (2012) p.46.
[2] Bass, p.76.
[3] Bass, p.86.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

True Worship (Fifth Sunday after Epiphany)

Isaiah 58:1-10
1 Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. 2 Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God. 3 "Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?" Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. 4 Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. 5 Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? 6 Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? 8 Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, 10 if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.

            I know this may sound like an odd question to ask at this particular time on a Sunday morning, but what does your ideal worship service look like? I mean, if it was totally, completely up to you, when the people called the First Baptist Church of Williams gather together in this room, how would you design the order of worship? What style of music would you want to hear and sing? Some of you might say, “Well, I like more contemporary music.” If that’s the case, you’d have to be a bit more specific, especially since what most congregations refer to as “contemporary” these days is generally twenty or more years old! So if you say, “contemporary” you could mean anything from the praise choruses of the ‘70s (which a colleague of mine refers to as “happy, clappy music”), to the three-chord praise-and-worship songs of the late eighties and nineties, to the more current worship compositions of people like David Crowder, Chris Thomlin, and others associated with the Passion movement.
            Of course, I have a sense many of you here (if not most of you) would respond to such an inquiry about worship music by saying something like, “I like traditional music.” There again, though, you’d have to be a bit more specific. After all, when some of you say “traditional” what you really mean are the hymns and songs written by folks like Bill and Gloria Gaither in the latter half of the twentieth century, or perhaps when you say “traditional” you’re referring to Southern Gospel songs, the kind of songs you can clap along with, that have a bit of a twang to them, and seem to always be about heaven (of course, there’s a lot of crossover with the Gaither’s and Southern Gospel music). When some of you say “traditional” you may have in mind songs from The Sacred Harp Songbook, songs often sung in the round using shape-notes, usually a cappella. Then, there are folks like me who might say they prefer “traditional” worship music, but instead of songs like those from the Heavenly Highway Hymnal or the Sacred Harp Songbook, we mean classical hymns from the Middle Ages, hymns from the Reformation (like those written by Martin Luther), or hymns from the Wesley brothers, John and Charles.
            Music style, however, is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to a service of worship. Aside from what kind of music one prefers, there’s the decisions about what kind of prayers will be involved in the service: only a few prayers acting as points of punctuation in the service, written prayers that perform specific functions throughout the service (like prayers of confession, prayers for healing, prayers for the global Church), or just one prayer to begin and one to end the whole shebang? Then there’s Scripture reading. How much Scripture should we read: just the sermon passage? All the lessons for the day listed in the Revised Common Lectionary? Perhaps just a Psalm at the beginning of the service and then the sermon passage? Believe it or not, there are even some people who question whether a sermon should be a part of a worship service! Then there are other things like children’s sermons, responsive readings, testimonies, when and how to collect the offering…you get the idea.
            The thing is, over the past couple of decades, well-meaning church folks have believed that the answer to declining church attendance and shrinking budgets has been a change in the style of worship. They believed (and many still do) that if you just add a guitar or two (or maybe take one or two away) a church will instantly become new, relevant, and full of young people with disposable incomes. Some have tried to boil all of their church issues and problems down to what happens in the hour of worship on a Sunday morning. And here’s the thing—I think I might agree with them.
            Now, I want you to hear me out. Don’t tune out because of what I’ve just said. I don’t want to hear from somebody later this week that I was talking about changing our worship style or making more changes that more people don’t like (those kinds of rumors often have an easy enough time getting started on their own in the life of a church). No, I want you to hear me out and give an ear to the prophet’s words we’ve read together in the worship of God today.
            The prophet we’ve heard is included in the book of Isaiah. I say that because many scholars believe that the book of the prophet Isaiah is actually the product of at least two or three different “Isaiah’s.” First Isaiah’s (the “real” Isaiah) words are included in chapters 1-39, where the prophet speaks about the coming judgment of God and the destruction of Judah. Second Isaiah was likely a prophet or prophets who were a part of a school of prophets that followed the teachings of the original Isaiah; Second Isaiah consists of chapters 40-54 and takes place during the end of the Babylonian captivity (some scholars include the rest of the book in Second Isaiah and make no mention of Third Isaiah). Third Isaiah follows in the tradition of the Isaiah school of prophets and takes place immediately after the return from the Babylonian captivity; Third Isaiah consists of chapters 55-66, and thus the passage before us this morning.[1]
            This prophet is speaking to a people who have returned to a Jerusalem that is much different than the one they left: the city has been ransacked, the Temple destroyed. They’ve been in the habit of trying to put their lives and their faith back together. As Andrew Foster Connors (pastor of Brown Memorial Park Avenue Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, Maryland) puts it: “They too have to rethink what it means to worship the God of Israel in a ‘post’ world: posttemple, postexile, post-Davidic monarchy.”[2] Those people were not too unlike those in the Church today who have to rethink what it means to worship God in a “post” world: a post-modern, post-religious world. In their “post” environment, these people were trying to figure out how to put things back the way they were, the way that it was before they were carted off by the Babylonians, and in doing so, they have begun using worship as a way to try to manipulate their environment. They viewed worship as a means to an end, not too unlike those today who view worship (or more precisely, worship style) as a means to rejuvenate a dying church. In either case, worship is being misused and misunderstood.
            We hear God speaking through the prophet about the people’s actions in verse 2: “…day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God.” What pastor, what church, wouldn’t want to have the sort of problem it seems God and the prophet are having?! Folks are coming to worship “day after day,” and they appear to be enjoying themselves when they come to worship: they aren’t nodding off in the pews, playing games on their smartphones, or coloring in all the letters on the worship bulletin. But something doesn’t seem to be right, because we hear from the worshippers in verse 3: "Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?" These worshippers are showing up to worship day after day. They are fasting, which is going above and beyond the call of the Torah, for there is only one mandatory fast mentioned in the Law, and that is the fast prior to Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement)![3] I mean, what more could God want from them?! These are the kinds of people who are there at the church every time the doors are open; these are the kinds of folks who sing in the choir, pray in the service, take up the collection, and sing along to every, single stanza of every, single song. These are the kinds of people who even go to every extra service: Sunday night Bible study, Wednesday night prayer meeting. Yet it seems like none of this matter to God! Why?! Because at the heart of their so-called worship, at the core of their fasts, at the root of their attendance and participation lies the rotting, sinful reality of their selfishness.
            You can hear it in God’s reply to the people in the words that follow their questions in verse 3: “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?” These are all rhetorical questions, with expected answers in the negative. Their worship was a smokescreen. They were after their own gain. While they were at the meeting house for worship, they were forcing their employees to work. Their fasting, their praying, their worship was all a show, covering up the malice and selfishness right below the surface. And God saw all of it: God saw their worship was what it truly was…empty. In the same way, God sees through our feeble attempts to pacify some sense of self-enforced piety right to into our hearts.
            So, this begs the question: What is true worship? If showing up and going through the motions, even with the earnest of intent, is not enough, not genuine worship, then what is? What does God desire from us when we gather together for worship? The very same thing God desired from God’s people so long ago. We’re told in verse 6 and following: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”
            And there it is. What is true worship? It isn’t about the style. It isn’t about time or frequency. It isn’t about being there every time the doors are open to say you were present. It isn’t about praying the loudest, longest, or most eloquent prayers. It isn’t about singing the right songs and hitting the right notes. It isn’t even about putting the right amount of money in the plate when it passes by. No, worship isn’t about any of those things. Worship isn’t about what you can get out of it for yourself. Worship isn’t about being seen by others as righteous. Worship isn’t about an opportunity to put a check mark by a box that makes you a more faithful follower than the person in the pew next to you. No! Worship isn’t about anything of those things. In fact, at the end of the day, whether you want to hear it or not, worship isn’t even about you!
            Worship—and I mean real, authentic, true worship—is about God. True worship is a space where God continues to transform you into the person God is calling you to be. True worship is about hearing the call of Christ to “Come, follow me!” True worship is about letting that call go out from your pew, out from this room, out from this hour and into the lives of others. Worship is not defined by the hours posted on a church website or the limits of brick, mortar, and wood. In fact, the kind of worship God desires primarily takes place outside and away from reserved sanctuaries.
Far too often we are concerned with how we may want to change worship—a new song here, a different prayer there. We get so caught up in trying to change worship that we forget worship ought to change us! When you come into this place or any other to worship, it is a time and place where the Spirit of God molds you more into the image of God’s Son Jesus. It is a time and place where you ought to let go of more of you and take hold of more of Christ. Worship is the practice of offering all of yourself to God—not in the limited confines of one hour on a Sunday morning—in the everyday actions of compassion, of loving your neighbor. That is true worship.
            So many churches have tried to boil all of their issues down to what happens in the hour of worship on a Sunday morning. I think they’re right, but not for the reasons you might think. I think they’re right, because too often we convince ourselves that that hour of worship is about us, for us, when it ought to be about God. It ought to be a time when we are changed, empowered by the Spirit of God to show compassion and love to those outside of this room in the kind of genuine acts of worship God desires from us.
May we be people who gather together to be changed by the spirit of God in worship. May you let go of more of you and take hold of more of Christ in this space of worship. May you go forth from this place, this time of worship changed in order to change the world around you as you offer yourself to God and others in acts of true worship.
Let us pray…




[1] John D. Watts, Word Biblical Commentary: Vol. 24 (Isaiah 1-33) Revised. Thomas Nelson, Inc.: Nashville (2005) pp.xlv-lxxxi.
[2] Andrew Foster Connors, Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, “Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany: Isaiah 58:1-9a(9b-12).” Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, KY (2010) p. 316.
[3] Carol J. Dempsey, Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, “Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany: Isaiah 58:1-9a(9b-12).” Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, KY (2010) p. 318. 

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Day1

I recently had the privilege of preaching on the national radio program, Day1 (formerly "The Protestant Hour"). Day1 is a great program, a place to hear some of the best Mainline, Protestant preachers. You can find my sermon and interview here, but I hope you'll browse the site for greats like Tom Long, Fred Craddock, Barbara Brown Taylor, and many more.
Day1

Blessed? (Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany)

Matthew 5:1-12
1 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: 3 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5 "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7 "Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 8 "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10 "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11 "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

            Isn’t it strange the way we can remember conversations we had years ago, but we can forget where we sat our coffee cup this morning? Sometimes the conversations we can recall are little more than insignificant chats about things like the cost of a gallon of milk, a preferred color of vinyl siding, or college football. Other times we can recall conversations that seem to hold more weight to us now, conversations that, after having time to soak and stew a bit, come sneaking their way back into our consciousness, rattling our brains just enough to cause us to pause and think.
            This happened to me recently, twice in fact. I recalled a conversation I had several years ago that involved two people with whom I worked: one was the director of the facility where I was working, and the other was his assistant director. Both men were married, but one of them had two children (and I think a third on the way at the time), while the other had no children, despite both he and his wife wanting to have children. They were discussing something of a high and theological nature, when the one with children said to the other, “I suppose God has just blessed me with my children…” I distinctly remember, even then, those words sounding wrong to me, as if I was listening to someone learning to speak English, but they were getting the vocabulary and conjugation wrong. 
            I can also recall a similar conversation I had with a colleague not too many years ago. For whatever reason, we were talking about the subject of families, and he said to me, “Well, God blessed me with a good family, great parents, grandparents, and siblings.” Again, there was something about that that just didn’t sit right with me. It seemed to suggest to me that God didn’t bless other people—other children—with good parents, as if those children didn’t deserve good parents, but instead, they were cursed with absent, lazy, or abusive parents.
Now, to be fair, I know neither of these men meant to be mean spirited or provocative with their words, but for so long it frustrated me that their comments didn’t quite ring true. It bothered me that I was bothered by the notion of God blessing some people with children and God blessing some children with good parents. Then I realized what it was that was really at the heart of my frustration: that word blessing. Think about it for a minute, is there not another word in out baptized vocabulary that is as misused and over-used as the word bless or blessing? After all, what do you call that little, quick prayer that you say before eating a meal (or at least before you eat big family meals or meals when the preacher comes over)? The blessing. What do you say about someone who can sing with a lovely voice? “God has really blessed her with a beautiful talent.” Or what about this: what do folks in this part of the country say to someone when they put their foot in their mouth, when they do something that borders on ridiculous, or when it seems they’ve been dealt an unfair hand in the more provincial things in life? “Well, bless your heart!”
Of course, none of this even comes close to the gross misuse of the word and idea by those who proclaim the gospel of prosperity. These pushers of profit-driven propaganda throw around the word blessing in a way that is synonymous with excessive wealth and miraculous health to the point of being gaudy. Their mantra is “Name it. Claim it.” Their motto is “Make God your choice, and He’ll give you a Rolls Royce!” Their understanding of blessing is found in financial abundance, in the notion that, if God is going to bless you, it’s going to be in large amounts of plain, good, ol’ fashioned money! Of course, we shouldn’t be too hard on these prosperity preachers. After all, not all of us who want to distance ourselves from their beliefs and language are innocent of using their vernacular when it comes to speaking about God’s blessing (especially when pledge drives and building funds rise to the top of our “to-do” lists).
If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll have to admit that this is how most of us understand blessings. We see them as material manifestations of God’s favor, and they’re the type of manifestations that make us happier, more comfortable. They’re the types of things that are given to us or happen to us in this plane of existence because we have somehow either merited God’s favor or God has predetermined to bless us. But when we hear these words from Jesus, these Beatitudes, they don’t really seem to support such an understanding of blessing, do they? Perhaps we’ve heard them too often, maybe even had to memorize them for Sunday school once or twice, and now the beatitudes sound almost too familiar to us, like an old song played so often we just sing along without ever really stopping to think about the words.
So I want us to stop and really listen to them again. Listen to Jesus as he defines for us what it means to be blessed and to whom such blessings belong.  "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Do these sound like the kind of people who we might call blessed?! The poor, the mourning, the meek, the righteousness-starved, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted: this reads more like a list of those who are either at the bottom of the ladder or living in some sort of self-deprived state of misplaced piety. There is certainly no way we’d ever dream of calling someone living on the streets “blessed.” There’s no way we’d say of those whose hearts break with the weight of death and the world’s injustices: “My, they are just so blessed!” Turn on the news, open a newspaper, those who shout out the cry for war and grand shows of power are the ones whose names grace the headlines, theirs are the names written on the million-dollar checks—not those seeking to make peace! As for those who show mercy, well we wouldn’t call them blessed. No, behind closed doors we’re more likely to call them gullible, bleeding heart, fools!
It’s been that way for centuries. People have measured blessings in power, money, and influence for hundreds (if not thousands) of years. Yet, the first things Jesus teaches his disciples in this discourse we call the Sermon on the Mount, is that in the Kingdom of Heaven, blessings are measured out on our scales; no, they are measured out on scales of God’s righteousness. And those blessings aren’t simple, temporary, monetary manifestations of wealth, health, and prosperity—they are blessings of eternal weight and significance. After all, Jesus doesn’t say, “Blessed are these folks, for God’s going to rain down financial abundance upon them…Blessed are these other folks, because God’s got a check with their name on it and it’s in the mail…Blessed are these folks over here, for God is going to heal their bodies and restore their reputation among their peers.” Jesus doesn’t say anything like that; the kinds of things we may think of as blessings are absent from Jesus’ list. Instead, Jesus promises the Kingdom of Heaven, consolation, a global inheritance, fulfilment, mercy, the promise of seeing God, and being called children of God. These are the kinds of blessings that are without measure. These are the kinds of blessings that can only come from God!
These are the kinds of blessings we ought to be seeking in our lives. Too often, we can be overtaken by the desire for more wealth, more power, more influence, more recognition, more of what the world would have us to think are blessings. All the while, we miss out on what God has for us. So, while these beatitudes may be in the indicative (making statements about who is blessed and how), they are in another way imperative (calling us to be those kind of people who receive God’s blessings). This is part of the Good News Jesus came to proclaim to the world: those whom the world may have deemed cursed, God has blessed. This is also part of the call to follow Jesus: to be people who walk a mile in the shoes of the poor, who mourn with those whose hearts are broken by tragedy and the overall sadness of a world lost in selfishness, to be a meek people who hunger for justice in a world where people are still treated as less than human because of traits beyond their choosing, people who show mercy when the world cries for retribution and payback, to be the pure-hearted, selfless, people of God who seek to make peace in the world even in the face of violence and persecution.  As much as these beatitudes tell us of God’s blessings, they tell us of how we are called to live as God’s blessed people.
God is calling us to be God’s blessed people. God is calling you to be blessed. God is calling you, though, to a different kind of blessing than you may expect, for it is not the kind of blessing that pads your bank account. It’s not the kind of blessing that can be measured over against the so-called blessings of others. God is calling each and every one of us to live the kind of blessed life we see outlined in the words from Jesus in Matthew’s gospel this morning. May we each seek to be those people God calls blessed.
Let us pray…