Siyahamba - Mwamba Children's Choir

"Uneasy" given 10/22/17

In today’s gospel, Jesus is asked to judge between the comparative worth of two valuable things: God and Caesar. Maybe one of the reasons why we come to church is to determine the relative worth of the conflicting values in our lives. There are those special moments when, in a flash, the true value of things comes into focus and we see what is valuable.

Imagine Jesus leading a Bible study group, made up people who know next to nothing about Scripture,. They begin to tackle Matthew 22, the story of Jesus and Caesar’s coin.

In the story, Jesus has been confronted by a bunch of Pharisees, strict interpreters of the Law, who hold themselves aloof from anything that is or might become, or even smacks of possibly being or becoming profane—unclean. They “build a fence around the Law”--go out of their way to avoid breaking the Commandments—even accidentally--including the Commandment not to make or have anything to do with graven images.

That's why there were money-changers in business in the outer courtyard of the Temple. Idolatrous coinage could not be used as offerings within the sacred precincts. No sir! No filthy lucre in God's house!

“Jesus, should we pay taxes to Caesar?” Jesus says,

“Who’s got a coin on him? My pockets are empty.”

Everybody automatically reaches for their pocket. Nickels, dimes, quarters, half dollars are in every hand. Jesus points to a nickel.

“ Funny that all of you should have this on you. Whose picture is on it?”

“Er, uh, Thomas Jefferson,” we say.

Jesus says, “Well, give it to him. But you be careful. Don’t give to Caesar that which belongs to God. End of the lesson.” And Jesus leaves the room.

One student asks, “Did I miss something? He didn’t answer the question! Should we pay taxes or not?”

“Yea,” said another. “What is Caesar’s and what is God’s?”

“Good question, I still don't know.”

Widespread frustration with Jesus arises in the group.

Finally, a student said something quite wise. “Perhaps,” she said, “when it comes to what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God, we never can be too sure. Maybe Jesus wants us to be permanently uneasy.”

Permanently uneasy. That’s not a bad theology of church and state. Pity Thomas Jefferson for not having the moral courage to release his slaves, even though he knew slavery was evil. Yet before he died, as he considered this peculiar institution, Jefferson said, “I tremble when I remember that God is just.” At least Jefferson had the ethical insight to be able to tremble.

Thank God that Abraham Lincoln learned enough backwoods religion to admit, in his Second Inaugural address, the ambiguity of even his righteous cause, the tragedy of violence, especially violence in the service of good. God save us from becoming too easy, too sure, too smug in our sense of righteousness.

A Rabbi and a Methodist Chaplain were talking about Jews and sports.

“Basketball, baseball, just about everything except hunting,” the rabbi noted.

“Why not hunting?” the Methodist asked.

“Jews don’t hunt,” he said authoritatively. “We are permitted to kill animals, but never for joy, never out of pleasure. We can kill only with regret.”

Regret? Isn’t that a bit weak to serve as a basis for morality? “Don’t knock regret,” said the Rabbi. “It’s tragedy’s cousin. There are some things that are not so much right or wrong as deeply, unavoidably, regrettable.

Don’t knock regret. In a context in which nine out of ten Americans were able, without a twinge of regret, to march forth with banners flying and flags unfurled in righteous indignation to once again have the war to end all wars; where we can urbanely cite some normative doctrine as our justification and then roll over and go back to sleep.

God grant us someone who,, has the grace “permanently uneasy” about the confusion of human life, the injustice that infects our earnest efforts to work justice, in short, our sin.

When, after the horrid events of "Nine-Eleven", the people of the United States were cast down into great grief, when we needed help and hope, to whom did we turn? Americans reached, on the whole, not for the cross but rather for the flag. After all, if right is to be done in our world, if we are to be secure, if we are to have confidence in the future, where will that be given to us if not from the hands of the all powerful state? It is up to the government to work peace, security, and justice, or peace, security, and justice won’t be done.

After President Bush II gave his speech to congress, shortly after September 11, 2001, a commentator said, “The American people desperately need to believe that the President has the character, the power, the intelligence, and the wisdom to bring us through this crisis safely.”

We want to imbue our governmental leaders with divine attributes because we need a god to save us, even if we have to make up our gods for ourselves. And when they don't come up to take impossible standard, we either demonize them, or or justify their actions, or blindly ignore their shortcomings. But do we ever stop and think about that attitude?

So that day, when asked about Caesar’s tax, Jesus didn’t tell us exactly what belongs to the government and what belongs to God. He did note that, whereas the coin was stamped with the image of Caesar, you and I are created in the image of God.

It is no simple matter. Christ and Caesar. Permanently uneasy. Throughout the last 2000 years, the question of church and state has been something of an ethical teeter- totter for those who have called themselves Christian. The Roman Empire actually practiced religious tolerance—you could worship any and all the other gods you wanted to—so long as you honored the Roman pantheon as well. It was a patriotic duty imposed on you—placating the gods of Rome in order to ensure their continued blessings on the Empire and Caesar himself. So the Romans persecuted early Christians because they were thought of as Atheists-- for refusing to honor the gods of Rome.

Then, in 325 AD, a Roman noble and general named Constantine, following a dream he had the night before, had his legionnaires paint a cross on their shields and won a crucial battle that put him on the Imperial throne. And all of a sudden Christianity was the official state religion of the Empire that had been persecuting it on and off for 300 years.

Official “Christianity—or “Christendom” became an arm of state in the nations of the Western world through the Dark Ages, and the Middle Ages, right up to the Reformation. Yet even that was not unanimous. Groups of pesky dissenters kept popping up from time to time to question the official line—to say that the Church had no business being in bed with Caesar--Albigensians, Hugenots, Anabaptists, Non-conformists, Puritans, just to name a few.

Despite their witness, various denominations are still the state religion in most of Europe today.

And of course, “Islamic states” have been established all over the Eastern hemisphere of the planet since the beginning of that faith . Then, in 1947 the world saw the first “Jewish state” established since ancient Israel. Ironically, those state religions are on the decline in Europe and many other places in our modern world.

It was our own American Revolution that introduced the concept of “Freedom of Religion” to the world. Because, despite the claims of some of our more conservative brothers and sisters, our “Founding Fathers” (and mothers) were adamantly opposed to the concept of a state church—much less that their noble experiment should (d)evolve into becoming a “Christian country”.

So, along with that freedom, we American Christians have the task of wrestling in our own hearts and minds with that age old “Christ and Caesar' controversy. Should individual Christians pay taxes to finance what seems to them to be an unjust war? Is there such a thing as a just war? A holy war? If so, what are the critereon?

Should Christian young people serve in the military as do young people of most denominations, or take a pacifistic stand as do the Quakers and Amish and Mennonites and other "Peace Churches"? What is appropriate loyalty to the state? Does it conflict with faithfulness to the Gospel? The Jehovah’s Witnesses think so. They refuse to salute the flag, claiming they are citizens of God’s Kingdom and God’s Kingdom alone. What does faithfulness to the Gospel look like? When do we cross that line between valid affection for, and loyalty to the state and idolatry to the state? Should we have a flag in the Sanctuary? Some of the churches I’ve served have one, others do not. I don’t know. These matters are not that clear.

Perhaps the worst sin is not to give to Caesar that which ought only to be given to God. Perhaps the greatest sin is not to care, to act as if there is no problem, no cause for concern.

“This is not a time for nay saying and criticism of the administration’s foreign policy,” said a letter to a preacher, complaining about his sermon. “This is a time for Americans to stand together, to stand with our leaders, and to show that we are loyal Americans.”

Such sentiments may be fine for those who are not trying hard to follow Jesus. For Christians, we cannot afford to stand back, to consider, to critique, to bring judgment to bear when we think our nation is wrong, to seek to rectify those wrongs because our love for Christ is stronger even than our affection for our country.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu wrote:

“There is no where that the writ of God does not run for everything belongs to (God). Caesar must be accorded what is appropriate for him, and God must have all—including Caesar’s domain; otherwise there would be a part of the universe, of life, that does not fall under God’s control.”

So, when your flag passes by, when you vote, when you are asked to support some government policy, when you are considering the future of your nation, your town, and what you ought to do about it, be careful! Don’t give to the state that which you ought to give to God!

I can’t tell you exactly where that line lies, can’t tell you in every case just what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God. All I can do is to pray that God will grant you the grace to be permanently uneasy!

"A Wedding Banquet" given Oct.15, 2017

We don't know what it was that Euodia and Syntyche were squabbling about in First Church, Philippi. We have no idea who these two First Century Church Ladies were, much less what was the cause of their disagreement. It might have been a major argument about doctrine and belief. Or it may have been a petty squabble around who broke whose casserole dish at the pot-luck.

Whatever it was, it must have evolved into a heckuva fight. Whatever was going on, the anger and the hurt had come to the point where it was threatening the harmony, possibly even the very existence of that fledgling congregation. Their feud eventually grew do divisive that The Apostle Paul, rotting away in a Roman prison, heard of it. Paul was troubled enough by word of discord in this congregation that he took time to include a personal plea for harmony into his pastoral letter to the Philippian Church, and to urge their pastor to take a more active role in reconciling these two sisters in the faith.

"Stand firm, my dear brothers and sisters. I love you and long to see you all. You are my joy and my crown. Stand firm in the faith, dear friends.

And now Euodia and Syntyche, you must forgive me for mentioning this, but I urge you to come to agreement in Christ. And I urge you, my dear colleague, to help these two sisters in Christ to make peace with one another. They have labored faithfully in the Gospel along with me, and along with Clement and with many others. God has already written their names in the Book of Life."

Notice. Following this obviously heart-felt expression of love and hope for reconciliation, Paul says this odd thing. "Their names are already written in the Book of Life". You can almost predict the next sentence. Something along the lines of "Don't allow your names to be erased from the Holy Book, I entreat you dear sisters." That would seem to be the logical way to deal with a divisive dispute.

First, express concern for the parties in the dispute. Second, plead for harmony. Third, appoint a neutral third party to arbitrate. Fourth, appeal to their better natures by affirming their past success and cooperation. And finally, remind them very diplomatically of his authority over them. That's good practical psychology, as well as good conflict management. Any personnel director or social worker would be comfortable with such an approach.

But Paul doesn't do that. The next sentence is not a veiled threat, or even a chastening. Addressing not only Euodia and Syntyche, but the whole Philippian congregation, Paul issues, not a call to reconciliation, nor healing, nor fellowship, but rather, a call to joy.

"Rejoice in the Lord! Again I say Rejoice!" More than entreaties to stand firm, more than personal expressions of care and concern. more than calls to harmony, more than pastoral counseling, more than personal praise and reminders of past efforts, Paul seems to be counting on one thing and one thing alone to make peace in this troubled congregation.

And that is the gift of Joy in the Lord.

Paul figured that if Euodia and Syntyche could get busy rejoicing and ministering in their everyday lives, they would be so filled with the joy of service, that they’d be able to put aside their hurt feelings and anger with one another. The Apostle understood that the deep and abiding joy that comes from a genuine experience of the loving presence and forgiving grace of God is the only thing in this world powerful enough to drive out feelings like anger and resentment, envy and malice, sin and self-pity from the hearts of Euodia and Syntyche --and from your heart--and from mine.

Further on in the Letter, Paul talks about some of the virtues that would seem to be characteristic of the Christian life. The Apostle calls the church at Philippi, and the church at Lindenhurst, to lift up in our lives all that is noble and right and good and honorable and lovely and true. But, truth be told, none of those are distinctly Christian virtues.

Those characteristics of the moral life actually come from the Greek philosophy of Stoicism. Truth, nobility, purity, beauty, gentleness and goodness are just as possible for the First Century pagan, or for the modern secular humanist as they are for the contemporary Christian. Make no mistake. Those virtues are all, as Paul says, excellent and praiseworthy. And, if our personal lives are characterized by a lifting up of the right, the pure, the noble and the good, we will indeed be leading lives that are praiseworthy and excellent in the eyes of our God.

But such lives are not in and of themselves Christian. These are not the distinguishing marks of the Christian life. Neither are the spiritual gifts of Faith, Hope and Charity unique to followers of Jesus. The Christian, first and foremost, now and always, rejoices in her Lord. To paraphrase the Westminster Confession--"Humanity's chief end is to love God and enjoy God forever." That might be a Presbyterian creed, but it's just as true for us United Methodists as well. Unfortunately, so many Twenty-First Century believers of all denominations seem to have forgotten it.

"Rejoice in the Lord!" says Paul. "The Realm of Heaven is like a Wedding Reception" says Jesus. And our Lord teaches us that the Heavenly Sovereign has issued personal invitations to us. The Divine Realm of peace and plenty for all will be an occasion of great joy and celebration.

The Scribes and the Pharisees and the party of Herod, the oppressors, the wealthy slumlords, the powerful, the exploiters and the pimps, the corrupt politicians and the warmongers and war-profiteers all choose to ignore the Divine invitation. And then, the common people, the workers in Christ's vineyard, the faithful followers, the poor and the despised, the exploited and the oppressed and the needy, are invited to enter. And they gladly do so. Compared to the reality of their everyday lives, the abundance and equity of God's Realm becomes a veritable paradise.

A Wedding Reception. As long as I don't have to dance the "Chicken" or the "hookey pokey" it sounds like a good deal to me. We are to enjoy our faith. And we ought to be joyfully anticipating the Christ's coming Realm of Shalom. If not, what's the point? I can't imagine what that Heavenly party might be like--except I doubt it'll be like a riverboat casino. But if there's going to be no fun, no pleasure, no laughter, no justice, no shalom, what's the point?

Maybe you've heard the story of the sober-sided layman who decided one day that he'd been called to be in mission. So he approached his pastor and asked her advice. Taken by surprise, she suggested that perhaps this good-intentioned brother might want to go down to Morning Star Mission in Chicago and help out there. So he hopped in his car, drove down to Skid Row, walked in, introduced himself to the Superintendent of the Mission, and offered his services. Since it was rather late in the day, the only thing the Superintendent could think to do with this rather sour-faced brothers was put him out on the streets of skid row, inviting indigent and homeless people into the meeting that night.

The man agreed to give it a try. Soon he was out on the sidewalk accosting passers-by in a mournful tone, inviting them to come into the mission. To his surprise, no one responded. Everyone he spoke to, turned their heads and walked away. Finally he approached one man.

"Brother, won't you come into the meeting?" Cynically the man looked at his solemn face and replied.

"No thanks buddy, I got troubles enough of my own."

Troubles enough of my own. Is a solemn face and a judging frown the best recommendation we can for our faith? Rejoicing in the Lord doesn't mean we go around with a goofy grin on our faces all the time. But if we are glad in our Lord, if we are grateful for the gifts and graces we have received, it ought to somehow or other be apparent in our everyday lives and demeanors and our commitment to serve.

Happiness can come about in our lives by circumstances, coincidence, even by our own efforts. A new car would make me pretty happy. Only God can give me joy. The joy of faith is a gift from God. Once we recognize all God has given us and begin to give and live out thanks in Christ, joy will come to us. What joy will mean in our individual lives will depend on our nature, our expectations, our culture, but most especially by our needs.

For some, joy is an ecstatic experience. For others, it is a quiet certainty that we are loved and accepted by our Creator. For some of us, joy comes in the unconditional and affirming love of a partner, a parent, a child. Joy can come as the helping hand of a friend, lifting us out of a moment of sin and despair, or the satisfaction of a task of kindness well done

In the name of our Lord.

Joy can be loud or quiet, exciting or undergirding, fulfilling or challenging, or all of the above. However the experience of joy comes to us, it is always gracious, always unexpected, always undeserved, always empowering, often overpowering, and always a surprise. And when joy comes to us, what else can we do but acknowledge it, accept it, and give praise for it?

And at that moment, all of our disputes, all our envy and anger and grudge-holding becomes unimportant. At that moment we find that all of those poisonous attitudes and feelings have been washed away from our hearts by the in-flowing of God's love.

And at that moment, what else can we do except spread that joy to others? That means more than just pasting a phony smile on our deadpan mugs. It means praising God and immediately turning to wipe away the tear of our neighbor. It means testifying to the power of God in our lives by the way we live them.

It means witnessing to the lost and confused. It means getting more deeply involved in our local church. It means beginning to practice real stewardship, working at a church event, organizing a pantry, taking a foster child into our home, swinging a hammer at the Habitat house, lobbying for what is right. It means giving and witnessing and sharing in the struggle for justice and equity and peace and the planet, in Christ's name.

Whatever it was that so divided Euodia and Syntyche has been lost in the mists of history. But the joy that Paul called them, and the Philippian congregation, and us to, still lives today. Paul thought that Jesus was going to return in his own lifetime. Two thousand years later we must acknowledge, along with Jesus, "...of that day and hour no one knows, not even the Son."

But even if we have to wait another two thousand years, or just until lunchtime for the Divine Wedding Banquet, the invitations have been issued. Can we disengage our hearts from petty worries and concerns in order to free them up to rejoice in the Lord? We're all invited. The party is already starting--in our hearts and lives.

Shall we respond, or ignore the Sovereign's call and go off to our homes and workplaces? Will we seize and mistreat the messengers of God, or pay them heed? The word goes out on the street corners. Let us put on our party clothes and enter the hall. For many are called, but few choose to respond.Amen.

Simple Gifts - Yo-Yo Ma and Alison Krauss

"Press On!" given Oct. 8, 2017

Maybe you've heard the story of a tiny church off in the hinterlands of Italy. The congregation was very small and the offerings had become even smaller. It wasn't a beautiful building, and no one of any prominence had come from the tiny village that the church served. So this church had pretty much been ignored by society at large for hundreds of years.

The little church however, did have one claim to fame. It seems there was a fresco--that is a large painting on plaster--covering one wall of the Sanctuary. Although the fresco could be dated back to Renaissance times, it's subject was a little-known Biblical scene. And no one had no idea who the artist had been. Since the style was somewhat unusual for that time, and the subject was sb obscure, it was assumed that the artist, whoever it was, had never been very successful.

As a result, the fresco never received much attention from the world of Art. But, as obscure and minor as the fresco was, it still remained the pride of the people of that tiny village. It was after all, about the only thing they had to be proud of.

Well, the little church was having a hard time surviving financially. The members were hard pressed to keep the doors open, much less keep ahead of their maintenance needs. Anyone who's ever served on a local church Board of Trustees can identify wits that problem, I'm sure. One night, a steam pipe broke over this much-loved piece of art. That was of course, the worst thing that could possibly have happened.

All night long, the fresco was given a bath of scalding water and steam. You can imagine the consternation on the part of the Pastor and the members when they arrived for early morning mass next day and saw their beloved fresco a ruin of old paint and plaster. It must have seemed like the end of the world to them.

After they had tearfully, tenderly cleared away all the mess, they were surprised to see beneath their old washed-off, minor league fresco, another painting on plaster--of the very same scene--but of a radically different style. It was obvious that the quality os the intact fresco underneath was far superior to the ruined one on top. So they called in a professor of Art from the University--to see if the newly discovered work could be identified.

It could. After much painstaking work, the expert found a signature on the underneath version of the fresco. I can't remember where I heard this story, or any more of the details, but the signature read: "Michaelangelo"

That's not the first time I've heard a story like that. You may have heard the story yourself, with slightly different details. If so, it's not necessarily true that I've gotten the story wrong. The fact is, events like that have happened more than once in the history of Art. Artists are always painting over their work. After all, good canvas is expensive, and even plaster isn't necessarily cheap. If you want to redo a painting, slapping on a coat of neutral color and starting over is a pretty simple process.

The best artists are always working on their own work--always re-working, never quite satisfied. And even the greatest, most successful artist will often be the greatest collector of his or her own work. The largest collection of Picassos in the world was discovered in the studio of Picasso after his death. Like that parent who keeps their child bound to them, even well into the adult years, many artists are often quite unwilling to give up their work, feeling that it is never quite done, never good enough, never up to their standards.

We're all like that, too. We're all artists. Except, we are each of us our own personal; masterpiece. For every one of us, the living of our own life is our work of art, our deepest creative act.

An artist may begin painting with a vague idea in mind. In the process of creation, he or she may use a given shade of blue to color in the sky. Then all at once, the sky will need some green in it today. The bark of that tree might need a deeper shade of brown today. The side of that border may need a little less black and more gray. Now, the sky, with the gray in it, makes that building start to look a little like a cliff. A cliff! Aha! That city scene was no good anyway.

Let's see. If I paint over this river I can make it into a street. And this taxicab becomes a stone. These people can become trees, and there you have it. By the sheer power of inspiration, a painting of one thing becomes another! But suppose I get hungry and take a lunch break? I come back and I don't feel like doing a countryside or a city scene--I'm now inspired to paint a still life. I may well decide to start the whole thing all over again.

You and I may find ourselves not quite satisfied with this stage of our lives. We too, might need a mid-course correction of our life's direction. We might find ourselves in the middle of a crisis that will shake up and challenge our whole way of looking at and being in the world. Social scientists call this a "mid-life crisis." or "adult stages of growth". Country music calls it getting a case of "middle-aged crazy".

You and I can go on for years gradually and happily living out our orderly, well-planned lives. We paint in this emotion, that experience, this character trait, that relationship. But sooner or later, somehow or other, we'll all be brought to the sharp realization that life is not as predictable or controllable as we would like to think.

Sometimes it's God who turns our lives around--a sense of meaningless in our job, the realization that we are addicted, or in the wrong relationship or the wrong profession, a sense that we have something more to accomplish in our lives--a deep spiritual experience. Other times it's not necessarily the hand of God--our farm is flooded, a loved one dies, we get divorced--in effect we end up with our lives turned upside down by forces and events we simply can't control.

But as long as we live, we never stop working on that painting that we call "me". It's never complete. Because there's always room for growth. There's always the possiibility we may decide, or have to adopt change. From that newborn infant to great-great gramma who got her picture on Willard Scott's weather report, we're never fully mature, never complete, never totally the sort of person that we'd like to be. But, by the same token, we're never too old to press on, to change, to enjoy new experiences, to grow in spirit, and in faith, and in wisdom.

If we're wise, we'll recognize that fact and do our best to live by it. If we're wise, we'll recognize that we, in and of our own selves are not capable alone of successfully working os that painting of our life-- much less finishing it. At least, not without the aid of our Divine Collaborator. Oh, we can scribble in a design here. We can splash in a little color over there. But in order to intelligently and meaningfully control the overall design--the course of our lives--we need the help of a far greater Artist.

In order to make the changes we need to face life’s slings and arrows, uou and I need to draw upon the creative power of the One who willed into each of us our talent for living. We need the One who first put the brushes of heredity and experience into our hands. We need the One who alone, can see the intended final design of our souls. We need the One who alone, has that lifetime-long capability, through unfailing grace, of completing our painting alongside us. We all of us, need to keep praying, keep striving, keep pressing on in Christ.

That's what Paul is pointing to in this morning's Reading from Philippians. The Apostle wants us to understand that he, and we, as followers of Christ are called to live, not in that dead past we call "if only I had" or "you should've". Neither can we live in the vague future called "wouldn't it be nice". No, you and I are called to stand firmly in the Now, with our eyes fixed on the Not Yet.

Now I am who I am. But not yet am I perfect. A Preacher invited his congregation,

"Let anyone who considers himself perfect, stand up."

"You mean to say that you actually consider yourself perfect?"

"No, I don't. I'm a stand-in for my wife's first husband."

Not yet am I definitely saved. Not yet do I share fully in Christ's ministry and Passion. Not yet am I totally the person God calls me to be. Not yet have I completely uprooted the power of sin and self from my life and my relationships. Not yet do I arise with praise on my lips, live each action of my day as a prayer, and fall asleep resting in the Eternal arms. No, not yet.

But regardless, I press on. In spite of my disappointments, in spite of my sins and my shortcomings, in spite of loneliness, fear, and despair I press on. In spite of my sense of alienation from God and my very real separation from others, I press on. Confronted by the ever present reality of all my not yets, I press on.

Once there was a scholarly young man who became a minister. He came from long line of clergymen on both sides of his family, so you might thinl he had little choice in his profession. He received the best possible education. A few years after his ordination, his father passed on and the bishop offered him his father's church. But something made him decline. Perhaps it was the fact that his father's parish was located on the edge of a swamp, out in the boon-docks beyond the sticks. Perhaps it was the prospect of sharing the parsonage with his domineering mother and a flock of unmarried sisters.

Instead, the young man became a missionary. Once he was settled in his new country, he began to preach to the emigrants from home and to the indigenous people who lived there. The natives weren't particularly interested in conversion. The emigrants were a rowdy lot, hard and sinful and depraved. The young man made no converts.

He did however, meet a nice girl. She and she alone seemed to be sensitive and intelligent, someone he could talk to, and share with. He came to like her, then respect her, and finally to love her. But he was too shy to tell her of his feelings. Tired of waiting for him, she eloped with another man. He was crushed. He lashed out verbally at her in the pulpit, even eventually denying her the Sacrament.

Then her family turned on him--backbiting and gossiping against him in the community. They sued him for defaming the young woman's character. He still had no converts. Defeated, he stole away in the middle of the night and returned to his homeland, literally one step ahead of the process server.

Back home, the young clergyman sunk into deep depression. He was a failure. He came to see that his personal faith was shallow and insufficient. He went into despair. He knew what true faith looked like, for he saw it in others. He read of it in books. He heard the witness of friends.

He plunged into his studies, searching desperately for the key to this deep, true faith he'd heard so much about, but had never personally experienced. Deeper and deeper sunk his spirit. But he would not give up. Even in the face of all this, the young man continued to press on in his search for a true and genuine faith.

He would not, even in the face of all his failures, give up his search for a firm and true trust in God, in his miserable and doubt-torn life. And then one Sunday evening, some friends dragged him to a Bible study group. Quite suddenly, quite unexpectedly, this young minister found the undergirding, loving faith he had sought for so long and for so hard.

It wasn't all that dramatic. No sawdust trail. No altar call. No old rugged cross. It wasn't even a real worship service. He later wrote that this experience of total trust in, and total acceptance by God occurred while he was listening to someone read from a rather dry commentary he was already familiar with. Yet it was, for this young intellectual, a quiet, deeply profound emotional experience of the very real love that God had for him. At last he found the faith he'd sought!

In the face of all those not yets: not yet really a Christian, not yet firmly grounded in faith, not yet an effective clergyman, not yet a successful missionary, not yet a moving preacher, not yet even really a particularly likeable person, this young man pressed on. The young man pressed on and became the most effective evangelist of his era. The young man pressed on and became the most profound Protestant thinker since Calvin. He pressed on and became the greatest Church reformer since Luther. He pressed on and became the ablest administrator the church of Jesus had seen since Paul.

All of this. All of this because on the face of his early failure as a missionary in Georgia, as a provider for his family, as an Anglican priest, as a human being, John Wesley stubbornly pressed on to Aldersgate Street-- pressed on to become the spiritual father of all of the people called Methodist.

Do I need to say it? I hope the point is clear after my Paul Harvey imitation. We all have our moments of "not yet". Indeed, by our very nature, most of us live the vast majority of our lives on the cusp of "not yet." Not yet making the contribution we'd like to make. Not yet living the sort of life we'd like to live. Not yet totally the person we'd like to be. Not yet the sort of believer we feel ourselves called to became. Not yet a full disciple of Jesus Christ. Not yet one of the saints.

Need I say it? In the depths of those not yet moments, there is but one possible response. Press On! 

'Amazing Grace' Flashmob in Tweede Kamer gebouw

"Adopt the Attitude" given 10-1-17

 You and I are living in a period of widespread spiritual searching on the part of a great many people in this world. The Sixties, I think, began it, with grass roots questioning of accepted political authority. The Seventies truly lived up to their name of the "Me Decade". In the Eighties, everyone seemed to be out for a buck, or drugged up to the eyeballs, or both. Communism fell, Wall Street crashed, and we hardly noticed. In the Nineties Wall Street slipped after a record boom, and then we all got scared by “Y2K” that all our computers would similtaneously barf on December 31st.

Once we got into the new millenium, along came 9-11 and we went off to fight two wars with countries that had nothing, or at least very little to do with it. And now here we are in the second decade of Twenty-First Century, and we're still fighting the longest war in our nation's history with no discernable end in sight. And now, the “Beloved Leader” of yet another outlaw state twitters that they consider us at war with them.

And in the meantime, everybody is still out for their own happiness, their own inner peace-- despite the cost to any one else. Despite former President Bush I's call for a kinder, gentler America --the so called "war on drugs" and the “war on terror” threaten to turn us into a police state. .

The homeless still sleep in our streets. The hungry still crowd our food pantrys. School violence-- magnified many times-- has moved out of the inner cities, and into prosperous communities not unlike our own. Even churches aren't safe anymore. I recently received an e-mail inviting me to a workshop on what to do when some nut barges into your church service waving a gun around.

Now that Soviet Union is no longer around to pick on, we've discovered new enemies--alienated ethnic groups, and religious ultra- fundamentalists, nations and wealthy individuals who sponsor terrorism, and home-grown fanatic haters willing to destroy this country in order to preserve their own twisted vision of America. And of course the dreaded immigrints. Whoooo Scarey!

The norms that we thought held our society together in the past seem to be evaporating. Issues like abortion, privacy, homosexuality, race, censorship, pornography and personal freedom tear at our national consensus. Eastern religions, pop psychology, the occult, old heresies and new cults compete for our theological allegiance.

The classic nature worship paganism of the ancient world struggles to be reborn. TV Evangelists mix right-wing politics with selective reading of the Bible and call it the Gospel. Every popular book store now has a self- help or psychology, or personal growth, or "New Age" section that seems to be full of more best sellers than the religious section. People go through pop philosophies like Kleenex in January.

Increasing numbers of us seem to be looking, searching almost wildly for meaning in our lives-- a purpose for living. We're yearning to be fed, taught, filled with pre-digested, easy-to-understand answers that will instantly banish the loneliness, that empty feeling inside we feel when we're confronted with our own frailties, our own guilt, our self-doubt and self- centeredness. We want-- although we may not use the words--quick grace and cheap salvation. We're looking for an easy-to-fill prescription that will allow us to find God.

A couple of Summers ago, the Davis family had the opportunity to see the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon. It's an incredible panorama of river valley surrounded by forest and high hills and waterfalls that runs from the Cascades to the Pacific. And scientists believe it was all created in a single day when a natural damn holding back the waters of a melting glacier suddenly broke.

No one, I suspect, can even begin to grasp a tiny part of the grandeur of creation without being filled with awe. No one can behold the untamed beauty of nature, the eternal rhythms of the stars in their courses, and not perceive that this was all no accident. Later perhaps-- disillusioned and bruised by the vicissitudes of life, shocked by the brutality of inhuman nature, buffeted by tragedy--some people will become agnostics or atheists.

But on first glance, the vast majority of us do seem to know that God is. We may not use that particular name-- it's popular to speak of “The Universe” as if it were a conscious entity. “I guess the Universe wants me here in Lindenhurst” But you and I know—it's God they're talking about, and God is.

It is the sensitive soul that continues to believe, continues to perceive that undergirding, ultimate reality-- despite the trials and perils of human existence. Mohandas K. Ghandi wrote:

I do dimly perceive that while everything around me is ever-changing, ever-dying, there is, underlying all that change, a living power that is changeless, that holds all together, that creates, dissolves, and re- creates. That informing power or spirit is God; and since nothing else that I see merely through the senses can or will persist, God alone is... For I can see that in the midst of death, life persists; in the midst of untruth, truth persists; in the midst of darkness, light persists. Hence, I gather that "God is life, truth, light. God is love. God is the supreme good.

You and I by our very natures are drawn to that supreme good. You and I and all peoples have a hunger deep inside us for meaning, a hunger to make sense out of life, a hunger for communion with the Ultimate. The very best in us-- our human spirits reach out to the Divine Spirit.

But in our hunger, in our confusion, in our disillusionment, in our human desire for the short-cut, the quick fix, the instant gratification, we look for the shortest possible route to God. We take drugs to enhance our experience. We send money to hucksters. We flock to fifty-cent gurus who'll teach us to chant. We support self-ordained authorities who will gladly tell us what to think, how to pray, what to believe and how to vote.

"This is art!" "That is pornography!" "This candidate is a Christian!" "That candidate isn't!" "This is inspired song!" "That's Satan's music!" "Only our nation, our system, our land, our culture, our faith, our race, our reading of scripture, our doctrine, our group of believers are truly saved, truly blessed by God!"

And just when we've bought into one or another of those easy outs-- just when we can breathe a sigh of relief, just when we think we've finally gotten the genie of uncertainty and human freedom and responsibility back into the bottle-- along comes Paul.

"I was born Saul. I too, had this believing business down pat. I believed in a divinely inspired system that was guaranteed to earn God's love for me. I was a Pharisee, a lawyer. I lived out the most minute detail of the Law that Moses brought down from the moutaintop. I followed them all to the letter. I went out of my way to purge the faith of my people of false believers. I stood by at the murder of Stephen and approved.

I was a student of the greatest rabbi of my time. I had the system whipped. I knew what salvation was, and how to get it. And I was going to get it, come hell or high water."

But then one day Saul literally got knocked off his high horse by Jesus. And all of his previous rock-bound certainty was in an instant, thrown up for grabs. Saul-- now Paul-- had to find something to believe in. Paul had to find a life raft to save him from sinking into the waters of despair. After a genuine encounter with the reality of the Risen Christ, Paul had to adjust. Suddenly there was no teacher to explain, no already thought-out system of beliefs. Suddenly Saul had to work out his own salvation. Exactly as you and I must.

Despite what a lot of folks will tell you-- there is no convenient set of answers that you and I can unthinkingly, uncritically accept. We, each of us, must struggle to find our own faith. We must struggle in freedom over the questions of faith. That doesn't mean that we literally save ourselves-- as Christ saved Himself. Rather, we are to help bring to pass our own salvation by actualizing in our lives, the Lordship of Christ-- the one who was truly and totally obedient in his own life, even unto the Divine Will.

Like the frog that fell into the dairy churn, we've gotta keep paddling until we find that our effort has transformed the milk into butter. Then we can crawl out on top. "Work out your salvation with fear and trembling" is the way Paul puts it. Fear and trembling is a phrase that says it well. It is indeed a fearful thing to struggle alone to find a reason for living, to find ethical norms to live by, to find a hope of salvation.

Yet that is what our Creator has called us to do. God made us with intelligence and perception as well as with that hunger for the Divine. God wants our worship and allegiance as free and informed believers. We must come to our faith on our own-- each and every one of us-- in fear and trembling. We might well never fully accomplish that task in this life-- at least not alone.

How are we know if our efforts are pleasing to God? How can we judge if our faith is sufficient-- much less correct? As Paul reminds us, we do have a standard by which we can at least begin to measure our experiences and our life of faith.

"Does our common life in Christ stir your heart with loving comfort?

With sharing of the Spirit? With warmth and affection for one another?"

If our life in Christ is making us strong in those ways-- we're on the right track. And, the Apostle goes on, if you and I do in fact find those characteristics in our new life in Christ, we will wish to associate with fellow believers, standing united in our conviction and in love, filled with common purpose and a common dedication to our Lord.

All of that is one heckuva lot harder than simply buying into the most convenient set of teachings of the nearest self-appointed prophet of the Lord. We have to work. We have to believe. We have to love.

Though each of us works out our salvation on our own-- we are not alone. Though we have standards by which to measure ourselves-- there is a simple way, an attitude which we can adopt. Though we are called to learn to live out a common life with one another, united in purpose, dedication and love-- we have a model for that life as spiritual searchers.

Paul points it out in this morning's magnificent hymn. It's a frame of mind. The same frame of mind that we see in the life of Jesus of Nazareth.

Paul simply calls it--"the mind of Christ". It is the same mind that we also can see in the lives of Francis and John and Charles Mohandas and Dorothy and other saints down through the ages. It is the same mind that you and I strive for as His believers.

It is a mind that does not come before the Creator asking to be filled--but to be emptied. It is a mind that does not seek to receive-- only to give. It is a mind that seeks not to be consoled-- but to console. It is a mind that seeks not to be understood--but to understand. It is a mind that seeks not to be loved--but to love.

That kind of utter emptying of self seems alien, strange and unattainable to us. We wonder if we can really do such a thing. We wonder if anyone can really do such a thing. It's a truly scarey call.

Yet believers-- men and women, old and young have given unselfishly of themselves for all of history. Men and women have joyfully prayed to be emptied of their sins and shortcomings and self-centeredness in order to make room for Christ for two thousand years. Unselfish love and encouragement-- that is the call of our faith, that is the good news, that is the mind of Christ.

Thomas Moore was an Irish poet in the Nineteenth Century. Moore married a beautiful young woman to whom he was totally devoted. Shortly after their marriage, the young husband was called away on business that lasted several weeks.

On returning home, he found the local doctor on his doorstep. His beautiful wife, it seemed, had contacted smallpox. She had survived, but was now hideously scarred. She had commanded that the shutters of their home be drawn so that her husband would never have to look upon her.

Heedless of her request, Moore rushed into the cottage. He burst into her room and began to light the lamps.

"Go!" she cried. "Please go! That is the greatest gift I can give you now." Reluctantly, Moore left the room and went to his study, where he sat down to write. The next morning, early, he mounted the stairs to his wife's room.

"Are you awake?" he asked.

"I am," she softly replied. "But you must not see me now. You must not press me, Thomas."

"I will sing to you, then." And he softly began to sing.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

which I so fondly gaze on today,

Were to change by tomorrow and flee from my arms,

like fairy gifts floating away.

Thou wouldst still be adored,

as this moment thou art.

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

and round the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

As Thomas Moore finished the song, there was a brief pause, and then his wife got out of bed. Slowly, she crossed the room and opened the shutters.

This is the mind, the love that Jesus calls us to love. Not merely a love that remembers the beauty beneath the scars. But a love that perceives and celebrates the true beauty of that whole person.

That's the love of Christ. That's the mind of Christ. You and I are called to Christ's whole mind of love and encouragement and empowerment for all. Such a love can encourage and transform the world around us. How? Why? Because He has already loved and encouraged and transformed us.