They Know His Voice

(preached on May 15, 2011)

Psalm 23

John 10:1-10

Grace and Peace to you this morning.  Grace and peace

…he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.

This past week the choir had the opportunity to join our voices together in the concert.  Singing doesn’t begin with the mouth.  It begins with the ears, with listening.  Listening to the piano.  Listening to the director’s instructions.  Listening to the other singers and to how our voices are blending.  (Or not…)  Good singing is a product of good listening.

Listening takes practice.  Sitting with someone in a hospital waiting room, listening to their concerns about what is going on in surgery; sitting down over coffee and listening to the joys and pains that someone is experiencing; listening to families tell stories of their beloved who has died so that we can plan a funeral service: it takes practice to listen for what is said and for what is not.  It also takes a certain amount of getting out of the way.

           

There are other kinds of listening.  The first few times the fire pager went off, I would listen to the call, and the address, and head out to the call, and then have to play it back a dozen or so times until I finally was able to remember both the number and the street that I was headed to.  I took a while to get all the lingo down.  And it took a while before the adrenaline didn’t shut off my ability to listen clearly.  Listening requires a certain level of calmness.

           

I have been told that when I walk into the room and my daughter hears my voice she turns her head to see where I am.  The Mrs. said that Wednesday night during the concert, when I sang my solo, her head whipped around.  As if to say, “you can’t fool me, I know that voice!”  She has heard me talking to her since before she was born.  She heard me singing to her the night she was born.  I was crazy enough to try and sing “I Was There To Hear Your Borning Cry.”  Yeah, I got about a half measure in before I was blubbering.  But she knows my voice.

           

And I know hers.  If I am outside a roomful of children and one is crying, I can tell if it is her or another child.  And most of the time I can tell if she is hungry or sleepy or just plain fussy by her cry.

           

This is not some mystical super-daddy power.  It is practice.  It is attention. 

           

This morning’s Gospel is about Jesus calling his own, and their following.  They will know his voice.  We who seek to follow Jesus, we need to know his voice.

           

Like all listening, this requires attention.  It requires a certain amount of calmness, and a certain amount of getting out of the way.  It requires practice. 

           

Where then is the shepherd speaking?  In scripture, in worship, in nature, in prayer.  In the still, small voice that speaks amidst the shoutings and rantings of the world.  In the gut feeling that tells us something is so true, or that something else is wrong.

           

But even in scripture, we can cut off the voice of the shepherd.  “Yeah, I’ve read the 23^rd Psalm before; sure, I know what it means.”  (We’ve all heard it a little too often lately, haven’t we?)  But what if, instead of skimming it yet again and moving on, we sit with it and listen to each phrase.

            The Lord is my shepherd.

            The LORD is my shepherd.

            The Lord IS my shepherd.

            The Lord is my SHEPHERD.

            The Lord is MY shepherd.

            …

            I shall not want.

            I have all that I need.

            With God, there is nothing that I lack.

            …

           

John Robinson told the Pilgrims as they left Plymouth England:

I Charge you before God and his blessed angels that you follow me no further than you have seen me follow Christ.  If God reveal anything to you by any other instrument of His, be as ready to receive it as you were to receive any truth from my ministry, for I am verily persuaded the Lord hath more truth and light yet to break forth from His holy word.     

Here was a leader telling people to keep listening, even beyond his own teaching, because it is God we are all listening to.  This became a famous phrase within the Congregationalist churches:  “the Lord hath more truth and light yet to break forth from His holy word.”  It was chiseled into the stone by the entrance of Chicago Theological Seminary.  It underlies the United Church of Christ’s “God is Still Speaking Campaign.”

And it reminds us that whatever good we may do, whether it is singing, or giving, or helping, or shouldering a burden or lightening a load, or feeding, or teaching, or anything else, it begins with listening.

May we, like the prophets of old, begin with the words, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

And then let us listen, that we would know the Shepherd’s voice.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Greater Works Than These

(preached May 22, 2011)
Acts 7:55-60
John 14:1-14

Grace and Peace to you this morning.  Grace and peace.

I thought about not preparing a sermon for today.  After all, wasn’t
the world going to end in the rapture last night at six PM.  It would
be the ultimate, “My dog ate my homework!” excuse for ministers.
There is something tempting about end-of-the-world prophecies.  It is
a great escapist idea.  (Did we not check the clock a few extra times
around six o’clock last night?  I admit, I did.)

This world is tough.  Economics are a mess, politics are a mess,
science and religion keep picking fights with each other, our families
are overwhelmed, our institutions are losing credibility.  Wouldn’t it
be nice if God just came in with that heavenly helicopter and lifted
us out of all this?

This latest end-of-the-world hysteria (and it is the latest, as this
gentleman had predicted that 1994 was going to be the time.  Two or
three more of these and people might stop listening to him…) seems to
focus on all the difficulties of the world, and on a few carefully
selected passages of scripture, interpreted with some fascinating
mental gymnastics.  It completely forgoes the Gospel admonition that
no one knows the hour or the day, but we are to be ready at all times
to meet Jesus and to account for our faith.

I am reminded of another gentleman whose small church put Islam on
trial, found it guilty, and burned the Koran.  Everyone from people of
other churches to the upper leadership of the Pentagon explained that
this was a Bad Idea.  This little church put a video of all this up on
YouTube, and it caused riots, as most people expected it would.

Legally, he and his church have the right to do this.  I am not
talking about legal rights.  I am talking about, Christian to
Christian, why did he use the difficulties of our times to abridge the
Gospel?  It is popular to strike back at those who strike at us.  It
feels good to get revenge, to do unto others as you feel justified to
do based on what they have done unto you.  I have had people ask me,
“well isn’t it about time we Christians started to fight back?!?”

"But I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who
hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.
To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from
him who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.
Give to every one who begs from you; and of him who takes away your
goods do not ask them again.
And as you wish that men would do to you, do so to them.
"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even
sinners love those who love them.
And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to
you? For even sinners do the same.
And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is
that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again.
But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in
return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the
Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish.
Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
(Luke 6:27-36)

Suspending the Gospel when times are tough is not faith.  It is, in
fact, the opposite of faith.  Being of the world, but praying not to
be in it, is not what Jesus told us to do.

Did Jesus have some escapist thoughts?  Sure.  In the garden, before
his arrest: “Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me;
nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.”  Having the escapist
thought is not sin.  It is what we do with it that matters.

Which brings us to this morning’s reading from John.  In talking with
some of you, you share my hesitancy at this passage:

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the
works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go
to the Father.

Greater works than Jesus?  I’m not sure my mind can handle that thought.

But then we read of Stephen, in the book of Acts.  Not one of the
original Apostles, Stephen was chosen to help distribute bread to the
widows.  But even the soup kitchen attendant was filled with the Holy
Spirit and preached and prophesied.  And it got him into trouble.  And
when they came to shut him up, he did not strike back, but held to his
faith.  And when they came to kill him, his words sound familiar.

“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit….Lord, do not hold this sin against
them.”  They sound like another who was sent to his death, praying
even for those who killed him.

I don’t know that I am ready to contemplate raising Lazarus.  I don’t
know that I am ready to contemplate doing the works of Jesus, much
less greater works.  But I can contemplate praying for the faith and
the faithfulness to meet the difficulties of our days faithfully.  I
can pray for those who persecute me, and ask God to help me love those
who hate me.

And I can prayer that we would be faithful.  Especially in difficult
times.  Because that is when it matters the most.  That is when it
makes the biggest difference.  That is when it does the most good.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

Because I Live

(preached 5-29-2011)

Acts 17:22-31

John 14:15-21

Grace and Peace to you this morning. Grace and Peace.

This morning we have testimonies about God and about who Jesus is and what he is doing. Paul is standing in the midst of the pagan world, in Athens, on the Hill of Mars, dedicated to the god of war. He has seen all of their statues and idols and temples. They have gods for everything. For fertility, for war, for luck, for business; state temples dedicated to their leaders who have been deified; both the indigenous gods and the gods of their conquerors; house gods that they pray to for their families, for their children.

Offerings are made to the appropriate gods depending on what is needed or wanted. Tribute is brought depending on what good has happened. And sacrifices are made to assuage the gods when something bad has happened.

Paul sees all of this, and he sees an altar marked, “to an unknown god.” This was the ultimate insurance policy. Just in case they missed one.

And he says to the people, “Let me tell you about the God you don’t know.” And he uses their language: “In him we live and move and have our being…” This is the language of the pagan poets, but he uses it to speak of Yahweh, God of creation, the Lord.

He borrows another phrase: “For we are indeed his offspring….” And if we are his offspring, we ought to observe the duties of children to their parent. God does not live in shrines made by hands, nor does God need anything from us, as if we would feed God. (Paul knew his psalms, for those of you paying attention.) God requires justice and mercy in how we treat one another, not more sacrifices.

Jesus is speaking to a different crowd: insiders, his disciples. He tells them how he will be present to them following the crucifixion, after the resurrection. The Holy Spirit, Spirit of truth, the Counselor, will dwell with his followers who keep his commandments, will be with them and within them. And because Jesus lives in them by the Holy Spirit, they will live.

I do not claim status with Paul or Jesus except by my baptism and by the love freely given by God. But I want to add my testimony to theirs this morning.

I love the United Church of Christ statement of faith. But one line in particular catches me “You seek in holy love to save all people from aimlessness and sin.”

“God seeks in holy love” – which is not the judgmental ways in which I am prone to think. I would make a fabulous Pharisee. I am an incredibly judgmental person. But I have encountered the ways in which being judged by others is damning. And in how Jesus saw people, I have seen a more excellent way.

So one of the ways Jesus saves me is from my own judgmental nature.

My introduction to the depth of Christian compassion came from my pastor, Boyd Carter. This was after college when I was waiting tables and tending bar and trying to figure life out. I had been working with him for a while, and I got to the point where I was ready to unburden a heavy load of stuff I had been carrying around for a long time. He recognized this was a tough moment for me, and he said, “Whatever you are about to tell me will not change how much I love and respect you.” And I believed him. And it was true.

From that moment came two things: acceptance and calling. I felt accepted. Flaws and all. Warts and all. Mistakes and past history and all. And I felt called. I wanted to be able to help others the way he had helped me.

“God seeks in holy love” – this is so different from the ways the world wants to stack everybody into right or wrong, winner or loser, us or them. Holy love sees beyond the categories we use. Like my pastor, not knowing what I was about to say, telling me that whatever it is, I was still loved. And it was true.

So one of the ways Jesus saves me is from shame and guilt and feelings of not being worth the space I take up, of being less than a child of God.

“God seeks in holy love to save all people.” I believe that this means that categories of race, or religion, or gender, or wealth, or status, or sexual orientation, or nationality, or whatever else we use to mark differences, these don’t matter so much to God.

“God seeks in holy love to save all people from aimlessness and sin.” “Aimlessness.” How did that get in there? The word never appears in the Bible. The original writers of the Statement of Faith discussed it a long time, and wanted to keep the word “aimlessness” in there, because it spoke of the way so many people experience lostness.

If aimlessness is part of the problem, what then does salvation from aimlessness look like? Meaning. Purpose. Hope. A path to follow. Work to do that makes a difference, both for the worker and for others.

So one of the ways Jesus saves me is by calling me to meaningful work; but also calling me to pay attention even when doing things like washing the dishes or feeding Mira. The opposite of aimlessness is not simply being busy. The opposite of aimlessness is seeing life as a sacrament, as the physical and visible ways of God being at work within us.

And sin. Mistakes made. Opportunities for doing good that were missed or squandered. Hurts inflicted or returned. Judgmentalism. Using or seeing others as simply the means to my own good or my own enjoyment. I can hit most of these before my second cup of coffee.

But not only do I have examples of how to do better than these – found both in scripture and in the community of faith; and not only do I have a conscience within me that knows right from wrong most of the time – which does a lovely job of jabbing me in the soul when I do something I know I ought not do, or leave undone some good I know I ought to have done; but the Holy Spirit keeps giving me reminders and hints and guidance. Sometimes through you, in our conversations during Bible study, or in the Bess Fulton Room, or in a hospital waiting room. Sometimes through reading scripture or prayer.

And there is grace. When I confess and let go, I find forgiveness. Making a mess and getting forgiven still means I need to clean up the mess. I may still need to fix it with you if that particular sin hurt you as well. But that fix is made possible because we are both held in a love greater than ourselves.

So one of the ways Jesus saves me is by hounding me with the hounds of heaven. And when my sin is confessed, there is also forgiveness.

The difference being a Christian finally makes for me is that reconciliation, resurrection, some answer other than fighting or running away, is possible. Not automatic. But possible. And in that possibility I work out my salvation with fear and trembling, as Paul would say.

And I worship God, because in worship I remember and giving thanks for the ways Jesus saves me, in holy love, from aimlessness and sin.

As Jesus told his disciples, so I say to you. Because he lives – in the resurrection, present in the Holy Spirit – I live. That is my testimony.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Taproots

(preached Sunday, July 10, 2011)

Psalm 119:105-112

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Grace and Peace to you this morning. Grace and Peace.

The psalm and the Gospel this morning are about living a faith that gives life. Both are concerned with the Word, and what a living relationship with the Word, in its wide and deep sense, would look like.

The whole of Psalm 119 is a love song to the Torah – and it contains eight synonyms for Torah: word, teachings, statutes, law, precepts, decrees, commandments and promises. The portion we read this morning begins:

Thy word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path.

The psalmist goes on to say that even though her life is in danger, she will not forget the Torah of God. (We don’t know who wrote this psalm, why not say “she?”) This is not turning to God’s teachings as a last resort, but letting them be a part of her life every day, sun or rain.

The Parable of the Sower is a teaching story for the disciples and for the church. We get both the parable as it is told to the crowd and the description of the allegory as it is told to the disciples. It is a cautionary tale, told to warn the followers of Jesus about what is needed. What are its cautions?

Not understanding the Word, so it cannot take root.

Having no depth, no grounding, so the roots are superficial, and the plant/the Word is uprooted by the least trouble.

Having no interest in the Word, but preferring the cares of the world, so that whatever grows of the Word is choked out by other agendas.

What is needed is good, deep roots, gaining nutrients from the soil so that the Word can thrive.

What are needed are taproots, digging deeply, securing the plant and drawing living water. How do we get such deep roots? How do we cultivate our hearts to better receive this life-giving word?

Last Wednesday in Chapel, we were talking about prayer. It was brought up that for some people, the word “prayer” has the implication of “what we do in church.” What we need, it was suggested, is a wider understanding. One person said that for them, prayer is “an open conversation with God that goes on all day long.” What a beautiful way to understand it.

The analogy was offered that prayer is like eating. I want us to play with this image for a moment:

Prayers in church on Sunday morning: we light the candles, we put fine linens on the table, we wear our finer clothes, and there is a certain formality about the whole event. Sunday morning is the fine dining of prayer.

Prayers in chapel on Wednesday night are closer to a potluck: we wear whatever we had on for work that day, we all bring stuff and open up and share with one another.

But there are so many other kinds of prayer, so many other ways to eat:

Some of our prayers are like that drive-thru burger, said in the car while we are driving from one appointment to another.

Some prayers are that late-night snack, talking with God in the dark while we are awake in the wee hours, unable to go back to sleep.

Some prayers we say in the morning, breaking our fast, welcoming the day either with, “Good morning, God!!” or “Good God….morning….”

Some prayers are little crackers or cookies, something we do little bites of throughout the afternoon to get us through.

Other prayers are donuts, shared together in small groups in the morning over coffee.

If the only prayers we get or say are on Sunday morning, it would be like eating one fancy meal a week, and then nothing else all week. It might be good and filling for a while. But if that is all the nourishment we get, we will starve.

To play a little more with the analogy of faith being a plant, grown from the Word, let us look again at what the purpose of the roots are in this parable. It is not so that we can be pretty flowers, or so that we can be strong for our own sakes. The purpose of deep roots is for the bearing of fruit, letting the Word enter us and letting us blossom with good acts on behalf of our neighbor.

Faith blooms so that the hungry can be fed and the lonely can find community. Faith blooms so that people who know despair can hear a word of hope. Faith blooms so that people who saw themselves as no people can discover that they are God’s people.

But in order to bloom, we need deep roots. In order to keep a hold of God’s love for the poor and the poor in spirit while other agendas talk so loudly, we need deep roots. If we are to step up to the challenge our faith gives to “reach out to our congregants, community and world family,” we need deep roots.

And if we are to have deep roots, we need to till the soil, fill it with nutrients, pull the weeds, and water it often. With our prayers. Daily. An open conversation with God, all day long.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.