Month: September 2023

Living in a Manner Worthy of the Gospel

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment

Philippians 1:21-30 NRSV

Well, as your pastor, I guess I should start this morning with the bad news. According to a one-and-a-half-hour Bible study on YouTube that included dozens of scripture references and quotes highlighting the Feast of Trumpets, the Morning Star, the new moon, Satan, and the Jubilee year, September 19th, 2023, was the day of the rapture. So, here’s the bad news. Take a look around. I guess that means that they were right about us. We have been left behind!

One of the great tragedies of Christianity is the failure of people to interpret the words of scripture in its context. Serious harm has been inflicted upon others as well as the planet in the name of God. I believe it is why many today have given up on the church believing that the church is doing more harm in the world than good.

 That is heartbreaking considering that the Apostle Paul echoed Jesus in his letter to the Romans writing that all scripture can be summed up in the one commandment to love our neighbors. He then followed that by saying: “and love causes no harm to our neighbors.”

As we consider the context of our epistle lesson this morning, the first thing we need to know is that it’s a letter written by the Apostle Paul to the church in Philippi from prison.

Of course, writing from prison was not uncommon for Paul as Paul was a notorious repeat offender, arrested, some scholars say, as many as seven times. In the book of Acts, we read where he was accused by the people of Philippi of “disturbing” the city (Acts 16:20). Later, Jewish leaders sent him for trial as (I love this translation) “’a pestilent fellow, an agitator among all the Jews throughout the world, and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes” (Acts 24:5).

A good question for us to ask is: Why was Paul such a threat to the powers-that-be? What is it about the gospel of Christ he proclaimed that that was so offensive, so disturbing?

We can glean some insight to why Paul was called “a pestilent fellow” by reading Luke’s account of his first arrest in 16th chapter of Acts after Paul liberates a slave girl who was earning “a great deal of money for her owners.”

Beginning with verse 19 we read:

But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, ‘These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe.’ The crowd joined in attacking them and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks (Acts 16:19-24 NRSV).

“When they saw that their hope of making money was threatened, they seized Paul and Silas.”

We Americans can relate to that, can we not?

When they saw that their hope of making money was being threatened, they succeeded from the union.

When they saw that their hope of making money was being threatened, they shot the preacher in Memphis.

When they saw their hope of making money was being threatened, they lied about weapons of mass destruction and went to war.

When they saw that their hope of making money was being threatened, they denied science and called climate change a hoax.

When they saw that their hope of making money was gone, they hijacked a religion, misappropriated scripture, and embraced conspiracy theories.

The gospel that Paul preached was not only a threat to profit, but it was also a threat to power, as he openly proclaimed that Jesus was Lord, which was directly contrary to the Romans’ proclamation that Caesar was Lord.

Sometimes, I think we forget that Paul’s revolutionary gospel that “there’s neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” and that “in Christ, there is a new creation” had economic, social and political consequences.

Paul’s feet were not placed in stocks for proclaiming a personal, private gospel to help people make it through the week. He was not arrested and later put to death for preaching a little “chicken soup for the soul.” No, Paul was opposed by the religious and political authorities for having the audacity to preach that Christ is Lord and Caesar is not.

And it is from prison, believing he may soon be put to death, that Paul issues the urgent appeal to the church: “Only, live in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.”

To truly comprehend this urgent appeal, we should understand that the verb translated “live” (politeuesthe) is not Paul’s typical word choice for patterns of living. Politeuesthe is a word denoting  public citizenship or civic loyalty with social and political overtones. Later, Paul uses the same root to remind the Philippians that their “citizenship (politeuma) is in heaven” (3:20). Paul’s appeal to live in a manner worthy of the gospel is a politically-laden charge to a city loyal to Rome. In other words: live in such a way that may get you arrested!

The use of political language should not surprise us when we consider that theologians agree that the Greek word translated “gospel,” (evangelion) would best be translated “revolution.”

In Jesus’ day, evangelion did mean “good news.” But evangelion was not just any good news. And it was never understood as individual, personal good news. It was good news with economic, social and political significance.

When one nation was at war with another, fighting for its civic freedom, evangelion or “gospel” was what was reported to the General. “Good news, the battle has been won!”

Or when a son was born to the king, ensuring the political stability of the kingdom, evangelion or “gospel” was what they announced to the public: “Good news! A child has been born to the king. Our reign is secure.”

Mary’s gospel song at the news of Jesus’ birth is an example of such good news proclamation. “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” The good news, the evangelion, continues: “Kings are being cast down from their thrones, the hungry are taking over, and the rich are being sent away empty.”

Mary’s song is nothing less than a battle cry!

And when John the Baptizer began preparing the people for the coming of Jesus and began his own preaching in the wilderness, Luke literally described it as “gospeling.”  And what was the nature of his gospel? “Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire!”

“And the crowds asked him, ‘what then should we do?’

In reply, he said to them, ‘whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food, must do likewise’” (Luke 3:9-14).

In his very first sermon, Jesus proclaimed, in terms almost identical to John’s, that “the kingdom of heaven is near,” and then more precisely:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (Luke 4;18).

And by the way, this year of the Lord’s favor, this acceptable year, is what is called in Leviticus “the year of Jubilee.” This is the year slaves and prisoners would be freed, debts would be forgiven, and the land would rest and not be cultivated for a year (Leviticus 25.11).

The gospel of Christ involves turning the world upside down. The gospel of Christ is the redistribution of wealth power, and it is the healing of the land. And our land today certainly needs healing. It was the Apostle Paul who attributed faith-fueled and hope-shaped groans to the earth itself, writing: “the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth…” (Romans 8:22).

Do you detect a pattern to this good news? When God comes into the world, when God moves against the present order, it is always good news for the poor and the oppressed, and bad news for the rich and the powerful—it’s economic, social, political and ecological good news. It’s much more than individual, personal good news. It is world-changing, earth-transforming news.

I believe one of the reasons for much of the world’s problems and for the planet’s ecological crisis is the wide-spread misinterpretation of this word “gospel,” and consequently, the failure of many to live in a manner worthy of the gospel.

For many Christians, perhaps because of their fear of losing the hope of making money or fear of losing power and privilege, the word “gospel” only means an individual, private relationship. “Gospel” infers a call for repentance of personal sins, not an urgent appeal to disturb our city to bring wholeness to our fragmented world.

Of course, answering this appeal can be daunting, for the fragmentation of this world great— poverty, racism, bigotry, sickness, war, ecological devastation. We know we will not experience complete wholeness in our lifetimes; thus, we may be tempted to throw up our hands and do nothing.

But I don’t believe God expects us to save the world. For that is something only God can do. I believe God only wants every generation of disciples to answer the urgent appeal of the Apostle “to live (to politeuesthe) in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, by simply doing what we can, where we can, when we can, to proclaim that Jesus is Lord and Caesar is not. I believe God wants all church congregations to be full of “pestilent fellows” doing our part to disturb our cities.

We can educate and challenge policy makers. We can vote for diversity, kindness, empathy, justice, peace and love. We can continue to love our neighbors without exception. We can volunteer to feed the hungry on a Saturday morning. We can sign a petition, write a letter, and we can do something as simple as sprinkling wildflower seeds in our backyard, remembering the words of Desmond Tutu who said:

Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world!

This is what makes me most excited about our congregation and our greater church, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). The good news is that you are the reason I have not given up on church. While others will continue to lift scripture out of its context harming people and the planet, this church is committed to be a movement for wholeness in our fragmented world, overwhelming our world by living a life worthy of the gospel, even if we have been left behind.

Go Figure!

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A1 Comment

Matthew 18:21-35 NRSV

My worst subject in school was always math. One day, I remember someone asking me, “Jarrett, what made you decide to go into the ministry?”  I responded, “They don’t have math in seminary.”

It is interesting that math is not the forte of most ministers I know. Someone told me that they once played golf with a pastor who always insisted that he keep score. He said: “At first, the other golfers and I didn’t mind the preacher keeping score, because surely a man of the cloth would never cheat. However, one day after looking over the scorecard, I had to speak up. I said: “Preacher, I don’t question your theology, and I don’t question your honesty, but I do question your mathematics.”

Now, I’m not completely ignorant when it comes to math. I can do simple math, good ol’ common sense math. One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Three strikes and you’re out. But, when it starts to get more complicated than that, let’s just say I’m thankful for the calculator on my cell phone.

Like our gospel lesson this morning:

For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him.

Sounds like one of those fourth-grade math word problems that used to stress me out!

Unfortunately for me, as a sermon from United Methodist Bishop William Willimon once pointed out, there is, even in the gospel, a sort of mathematics.[1]  For when Jesus began teaching the ways of God, he brought us a new way of making calculations, and this math of Jesus is oftentimes very difficult for us to figure.

I am thinking about that woman who took nearly a quart of fine perfume, costing over a year’s salary, and poured it all over Jesus’ feet.  On his feet! The woman wastefully pours all that perfume, 60, 70, maybe 100,000 thousand dollars-worth all over Jesus, and then, Jesus has the audacity to praise her.  What kind of mathematics is that?

I am thinking about that time Jesus praises a shepherd who left behind 99 sheep, “in the wilderness,” in order to look for 1 lost sheep. What kind of math is that?

If you leave 99 sheep alone, vulnerable, in the wilderness, what do you think is going to happen when you are gone? When you get back from finding the one lost sheep, if you find it, common sense says you’re certain to return to far fewer sheep! How does that add up?

One day Jesus watched the rich making a big show dropping their bags of money into the temple treasury. Think about that: “A bag of money.” When’s the last time you’ve seen “a bag of money?” That’s a lot of money! But when Jesus saw a poor widow come and drop one penny into the temple offering, he said that she had given more than all the others put together.

Click on your calculator app and try to figure that one out!

And then there was a farmer who hired people to go to work in his vineyard. Some arrived at work just as day was dawning, others came mid-morning, others at mid-day, some in the afternoon, and then some slackers showed up just one hour before quitting time.

At the end of the day, this eccentric farmer called everybody together and paid everybody the exact same wage. Now, how on earth does he figure that one hour of work is worth the same amount as 12 hours of work?

Do you see the common theme which runs through all these parables? It’s an entirely different kind of math. In our mathematics one plus one equals two—one plus one always equals two, only two. But here, in this new math, the value of 1 may be equal to the value 99, depending on who’s doing the counting.

And one little coin is said to be worth more than several big bags of money, depending on who’s keeping the books.

When Jesus tells us the story about the farmer who hires servants to work in his vineyard, I suppose most of us hard-working, tax-paying, responsible citizens of the vineyard immediately identify with the servants who worked in the vineyard all day. To be told that somebody shows up in the vineyard just one hour before the end and gets the same as those who labored all day, well, that just doesn’t add up. And we are not ok with that.

However, if we could empathetically hear this parable from the standpoint of those workers who showed up late—the person who because of a disability, because of a family crisis, because of a lack of training, a lack of education, a lack of language proficiency, a lack of transportation, or for whatever reason, was only  hired at the end of the day but then  received the same wage as those who had been there the whole day—if we could hear it from their vantage point, I guarantee you, we’d be ok with it.

Yes, there’s a common theme running through these parables.  And it is not so much math as it is grace.

And if we are honest, this thing we call “grace” is sometimes difficult for us to figure.

We think to ourselves, “As far as God is concerned, if I do this, then I will receive that; and if I don’t do this, I will not receive that.”  But the truth is that our relationship with God is not a matter of what we do, or the way we figure it, but a matter of what God does, and the way God figures it.

Peter came to Jesus wondering how many times he should forgive someone who had wronged him. “Seven times?” The way we figure it, that number seems more than reasonable. Right? It’s hard enough to forgive someone one time, much less seven times.

But Jesus said, “You must forgive not seven times, but seventy times seven.” That’s a huge number, whatever it is.

“Built right into the heart of the gospel is an extravagant graciousness which refuses to be calculated.”[2]

Perhaps that is why many of us love the passage of scripture that comes right before our gospel lesson this morning.

Jesus said, “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone…if you are not listened to [STRIKE ONE], take one or two others along with you…If the member refuses to listen to them [STRIKE TWO], tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector [STRIKE THREE, YOU’RE OUT OF THERE!].”

Finally, something that we can figure out!  Some simple math—One plus one equals two. Be good and be rewarded. Three strikes and you’re out. Be bad and be punished.

But here’s the problem. When we place this mathematical calculation in the context of Jesus’ mathematics of grace, we get another result.

 As Eugene Boring has commented, Jesus’ “context is not of self-righteous vindictiveness, but of radical caring for the marginal and straying, and of grace and forgiveness beyond all imagining.”[3]

We like to think, “Yes! Treat them like tax collectors! Three strikes, they’re out!” But have you thought about how Jesus treated tax collectors?

Jesus called them to be his disciples. When they betrayed him, he washed their feet and served them from the table. And when they deserted him and denied him, he said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Then, he died for them.

The truth is, in our self-absorbed, self-centered, oftentimes vindictive little world, God’s math just doesn’t add up.

This time of the year I almost always hear someone comparing the losses that we suffer here from natural disasters to the losses suffered in poorer nations. They say things like: “the wealthy living on the coasts of Florida or Maui have much more to lose.” And if you think about it in terms of property values, the numbers might add up.

But that’s our math. It’s not God’s math.

Willimon would say that what they failed to calculate is that…

…small, insignificant numbers like one sheep, or one insignificant person, one little coin, one hour of labor, become very large in God’s mathematics. On the other hand, the impressive accomplishments and wealth of the rich and powerful are seen as nothing.  As the prophet says, God’s ways are not our ways. God’s measurements are not our measurements.

What we think adds up, doesn’t add up.

And here’s the really good news: because of God’s amazing grace, what we think doesn’t add up— adds up.

We look at something and say: “That just doesn’t make any sense. That doesn’t compute.  I don’t care how many times you count and recount, check and double check, that just doesn’t add up.”

And God responds: “Oh, yes it does! In the mathematics of my grace, it most certainly adds up!”

Spending several hours on a Saturday morning to feed our neighbors at Parkview Mission, yet going home feeling like someone has fed you—adds up.

Giving a $100 to disaster relief, not expecting one cent in return, yet feeling like someone has paid you ten times that amount — adds up.

Volunteering an hour to help someone in need when you do not have five minutes to spare, only to discover that you had plenty of time—adds up.

Going to a nursing home to bless someone, but leaving the nursing home having received a greater blessing—adds up.

Facing one’s own imminent death, yet feeling more alive than a newborn and more hopeful than a newlywed—adds up.

A congregation has a budget that is much smaller than it used to be because it is smaller than it used to be; yet, the congregation loves the people in their city so unconditionally, offers grace to others so unreservedly, and extends mercy so extravagantly, that it transforms not only their church, but their entire city, the region, even other parts of the world, in ways that are beyond their calculations—adds up.

One day, Pricilla, a dear friend of mine, called me to give me the news: “Brad and I have decided to adopt two more children from Ukraine.”

“Two more children!” I responded.

They had already adopted two the previous year, one was two and the other was three years old. They both had lived in an orphanage since they were born and suffered with PTSD and other issues.

As a concerned friend, I asked, “Do you really think that is wise? You’ve already adopted two children. And I know what a handful they are. Pris, I know you are a great mother, and I know Brad is a good father, but don’t you think there are limits?

Pricilla responded by saying something like: “When it comes to love, Jarrett, I have discovered there are no limits. I really don’t believe you can ever run out of love. The more love you give… the more love you seem to have.”

The good news is: In God’s mathematics, that adds up! Go figure!

[1]Idea for “Mathematics of Jesus” in the Matthean Parables was derived from William H. Willimon, The New Math (PR (33/3; Inter Grove Heights, Minnesota: Logos Productions, Inc., 2005), 49.

[2]Bruce Metzger, ed. The New Oxford Annotated Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 27 NT.

[3]Leander Keck, ed., New Testament Articles, Matthew, Mark, The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, vol. 8 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), 379.

Wake Up and Love

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A2 Comments

Romans 13:8-14 NRSV

The song “Fruitcakes,” from Jimmy Buffett’s album of the same name, has a verse to which many of us can relate:

 

 

Religion is in the hands of some crazy-ass people

Television preachers with bad hair and dimples

The god’s honest truth is: it’s not that simple!

Right?

That’s why I find it interesting that a local pastor is preparing a Bible Study series entitled: “Answers to Your Toughest Faith Questions.”  The Facebook post then listed a small sampling of the theological questions that he would be giving answers to:

Who is God?

Why do bad things happen to good people?

What is salvation?

Now, I was raised going to church every Sunday. I hardly ever missed Sunday School class. I attended every Vacation Bible School and went to church camp every summer. I studied religion and philosophy in college, and I went on to get a Master of Divinity Degree, and then, a Doctorate in ministry. I did some math and deduced that I have written and preached over 1,500 sermons. So, you would think, that when it comes to theology, I would know a thing or two; however, the truth is that I really don’t know that much.

The only thing that I really know about theology is that the more I know, the less I seem to know.

Some of you are probably thinking about right now: “Well, if there’s a local pastor who giving answers to some tough theological questions, maybe our new pastor, bless his heart, should show up for a class, or at least Zoom in, and learn something!”

But here’s the thing:

I know just enough about theology to know that there many ways one can answer those types of questions. In our seminary theology classes, we studied several answers to those tough questions from several different theologians, and then we worked to form our own opinion.

This may surprise you, but when it comes to God and God’s relationship to this mystery we call life, with both the holy and the horrible parts of it, that’s about all I’ve got: opinions.

This is part of the reason I could not be happier today to be counted as part of Disciples of Christ. With the late, wonderfully honest and thoughtful Rachel Held Evans, I have always “longed for a church to be a safe place of doubt, to ask questions, and to [always] tell the truth, even when it is uncomfortable.”

I believe First Christian Church has a long history of being that type of church. We call ourselves “disciples” because we have decided to follow the way of love Jesus taught and emulated, not because we have figured out God. With the Harry Emerson Fosdick, most of us “would rather live in a world where our lives are surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that our minds could comprehend it.”

If you keep coming to worship here while I am the pastor, you may begin noticing a few words that I use more than other words when I am preaching. Besides “God” and “Jesus” and “good news” and “all means all”, the two words that I use more than any other are: “I believe.”  “I believe this to be true…I believe that God works this way…I believe that God desires this…I believe that God wants us to do that…“I believe God is calling us to go, be or act…”

One day, a parishioner in one of my previous churches made an appointment with me to complain about my preaching. Which, by the way, was very common. He sat down in my office and began telling me how frustrated I made him by saying “I believe” so much, and if I didn’t stop saying it, he might have to find another church!

I asked him, “What would you rather me say?”

“I need my pastor to be more authoritative,” he said.

He wanted me to say: “I know,” “I’m certain,” “I’m confident,” “I’m convinced,” “I conclude…”; not “I believe.”

But when it comes to theology, that’s all I’ve got. I believe. I theorize. When it comes to this being or Spirit, or force, or power in, behind and over the universe we call “God,” I think. I consider, I ponder, and I wonder.  I “lean more towards.” I surmise, guess, deduce, speculate, estimate and contemplate. I hope, which, by the way, infers that I also doubt.

And if that bothers some of you who come to this place Sunday after Sunday in search of concrete, black and white authoritative answers about God, all I can say is, I am sorry. You won’t find that here. At least, not from me.

When I was in my twenties, still fresh out of seminary, and still naïve enough to think I knew some stuff about God, I had the amazing opportunity to gather each Wednesday for lunch with a group of highly esteemed and seasoned clergy in Winston-Salem. Among those who attended the group was the Rev. Dr. Warren Carr, a retired pastor and renowned Civil Rights hero while serving Watts Street Baptist Church in Durham. What an honor and privilege was it for me to sit at a table each week this man who was a sought-after lecturer on college campuses for his wealth of knowledge, experience and expertise.

For a few years, a group of clergy, religion and philosophy professors in North Carolina gathered for a retreat at the Caraway Conference Center in Asheboro. I was absolutely giddy one year when I checked into the retreat center and was told that I would be sharing a room with Dr. Carr.

After an extensive and very academic group discussion that evening, much of which was over my head, we all retired to our rooms. As we settled in our twin beds like we were in youth camp and turned off the lights, Dr. Carr asked me: “Did you enjoy tonight’s conversation?”

“Yes,” I responded. “But to be honest, being in a room of full of wisdom with people like you reminds me that I still have much to learn.”

 Dr. Carr laughed and then spoke words that I will never forget:

I have been a pastor and a serious scholar of scripture for sixty-five years, but all that I really know about God is that God is love. And God loves me. Therefore, I ought to love. And to be honest, everything else is fuzzy.

I was taken back by his honesty and didn’t know quite how to respond.

Then, after a moment of silence, he said, “But love is all I need to know.”

I wonder if that was what Paul was trying to infer in his letter to the Romans:

Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. [The entire law code] …is summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

To the Galatians, again Paul writes:

For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Gal 5:14).

And we’ve heard this before. Matthew records Jesus saying that the greatest commandment is to love God, [which means to literally love Love] and to love our neighbors as ourselves, and on this commandment hangs all of scripture (Matthew 22:34-40).

Mark remembers Jesus saying we are not far from the kingdom of God if we understand loving our neighbor as ourselves is more important than any act of worship (Mark 12:28-34).

Luke recounts Jesus telling a lawyer that loving our neighbors as ourselves is the key to inheriting eternal life. “Do this, and you will live,” says Jesus (Luke 10:25-28).

Not only is love all we need to know, all we need to understand about the scriptures, worship, and eternal life, Paul describes it as a debt we owe. Owe no one anything, except to love one another. John put it this way: “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11).

And in our Epistle lesson this morning, Paul expresses an urgency to love. “Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.” It’s time to wake up and love.

Lori and I experienced this urgency when we lost our first child in the 23rd week of pregnancy in 1993. A week or so after we left the hospital, a colleague and pastor immediately offered a pastoral visit. But instead of offering his love like it was a debt he owed me, with a confident, rather authoritative voice, he said:“Jarrett, I believe God knew that you were not ready to be a father.”

But, you know, I didn’t need his theology. I didn’t need his belief, his contemplation or his speculation.

As you know, Erin, our Christian education intern is in Illinois today after receiving a call this week that her grandfather, who she adored, and who adored her, had passed away. Although Erin is a seminary student studying theology, right now she doesn’t need our theological theories. She doesn’t need our ponderings or our wonderings. What Erin needs and needs urgently is our love.

Tripp, the seven-year-old grandson of Jim and Verna who has been on our prayer list for several years, will soon undergo treatments again to fight leukemia. Tripp and his family do not need our theology, our deductions or our estimations. What they urgently need is our love.

Having learned this week that their premature baby has suffered brain damage, Miles and Emily do not need our guesses or our opinions about God. What they need, and need urgently, is our love. In fact, the following words are from a text I received from Emily on Friday:

Send lots of love and prayers his way so we can have some clarity in the days, weeks, and months to come. We are in for a long journey with Henry, and we are just pouring all our love and energy into him by spending lots of time together reading, talking and loving.

Emily’s urgent plea was: “Send lots of love.”

A line from of one of Jimmy Buffett’s newest songs, released after his death, goes:

…when the journey gets long, just know that you are loved. There is light up above, and the joy is always enough.

The good news for people like you and me who do not have all the answers, who accept and even embrace the mystery of it all, who do more pondering than knowing and more wondering than concluding, is that we have experienced love— holy, sacred, divine, mysterious, incredulous but certain love. And although we cannot fully comprehend the power of love or the Source of love, we know with confidence that it is love that has brought us to this place we call church. And, with all our misgivings and misunderstandings, with all our doubts and unanswered questions, we somehow, some miraculous way, know that it is love that keeps us here.

And here is some more good news.  I KNOW– even this one who doesn’t KNOW much about theology— who some say might not know much about anything, from a science book or from three years of the French I took— But I KNOW, without a doubt, with absolute certainty and with utmost confidence, and on good authority, that Love is present here in this church, and Love is calling us with an urgency to be love and to share love. And if we wake up and answer this call, what a wonderful world this would be.

There’s a Cross Involved

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A7 Comments

I have a confession this morning. This preaching thing is hard. It’s hard on me, and I know it’s hard on you. And there are some Sundays I wished I didn’t have to do it. Not because it’s Labor Day weekend and half the congregation is out of town, but because as a lectionary preacher, as someone who does not choose my own scripture to preach, I sometimes have to preach scripture that I don’t want to preach.

This morning’s lectionary gospel lesson is especially problematic for a new preacher, one who really likes their new congregation, and who really wants their congregation to like them.

Sometimes preaching can be fun, like last Sunday when the text speaks of the church possessing the keys to break loose some heaven on earth, of the church being on the offensive, confronting the forces of death, darkness and despair, with the promise that, in the end, love always wins! Now, that will preach!

But then you have a text like the one we have this morning. After Jesus announces that love will indeed win, freedom will ring, death will be defeated, Easter will happen, he says, “but before any of that can take place, somebody needs to pick up and carry a cross.”

Peter immediately takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. Of course, he does! For who wants to hear a sermon like that?

And then we hear what are perhaps the most offensive words Jesus ever spoke: “Get behind me Satan.”

It is then that our scripture lesson becomes even more difficult to hear: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Jesus is implying for love to win, for heaven to break loose, for freedom to ring, there’s a cross involved. And it’s not just Jesus who has to carry a cross, it’s anyone who wants to follow him, anyone who wants to bring some heaven to this earth, some wholeness to this fragmented world. Although we possess the keys to break loose some heaven on earth; to use those keys, for love to truly win, we must be willing to sacrifice everything.

Can you see why I don’t want to preach this text this morning? Nobody wants to hear that!

So, what we preachers do with a text like this, especially preachers who want their congregations to like them, is to walk it back, or dial it back.

 To avoid upsetting too many congregants, preachers interpret carrying a cross (a symbol of execution, assassination and murder) as simply doing things for the church that we might not want to do.

For example, we say things like:

“Somebody needs to carry a cross by volunteering one Sunday morning to help in the nursery” (By the way, Gretchen did call me this week and asked me to mention that).

“Somebody needs to carry a cross by stepping up to chair a ministry team” (By the way, I understand that the Christian Education team currently needs someone).

Or “the preacher needs to carry a cross by showing up on Sunday morning to preach a sermon, even a sermon he doesn’t want to preach.

Now, that’s a sermon we can all tolerate. Right?

However, I often wonder how much better this world would be if preachers did not walk or dial back these words of Jesus? What if we preached these words the way Peter heard them, in a way that was so offensive, that made Peter do something as audacious as pulling aside and rebuking the Messiah and Son of the living God?

Jesus said: “…he must go to Jerusalem” (notice the urgency here. “He must”). “He must go to Jerusalem” to serve on a ministry team?  No. To preach a difficult sermon? No. “To undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed.”

In other words, I believe Jesus is saying: If you follow the way of love that you see me demonstrate. If you love all people and teach others to love all people, especially those who have been pushed to the margins by self-serving religion: sick people, Eunuchs (who, today, would be considered a part of the LBGTQ community); poor people; people of other ethnicities, and people of other religions—if you teach people that God even wants us to love our enemies—if you point out, speak out and call out the demonic forces of evil that are oppressing people, if you stand up to hate and attempt to disarm hate, then there will be some people, probably religious people, who are going to want to kill you.

This past Monday, I attended a beautiful gathering of clergy on the campus of the University of Lynchburg to consider ways we can work together in this city. Meeting in that room vowing to partner with white and black pastors, male and female pastors, along with a Jewish Rabbi, I could not help to think how far we have come in the last 100 years. But in order to get here, the truth is: somebody had to pick up and carry a cross.

I believe Dietrich Bonhoeffer understood this.

Bonhoeffer did not have to return to Germany to stand against the Nazi aggression. After all, he was safe and sound visiting New York City in the early 1940’s. He was free to stay in America and preach the gospel from the safety of a free church pulpit or teach New Testament in the peace and freedom of a university. But when he decided to follow Jesus, he knew there would be a cross involved. Bonhoeffer understood “saying ’yes’ to God requires saying ‘no’ to all injustice, to all lies, and to all oppression” even if it gets you killed. So, he returned to Germany, and for helping Jews escape and flee to Switzerland, he was arrested and executed by the Nazis just days before the war ended in 1945.

Ten years later, the Rev. George Lee, one of the first black people to register to vote in Humphreys County, Mississippi, used his pulpit and his printing press to urge others to vote, despite the many death threats he received. White government officials offered Lee protection on the condition he end his voter registration efforts. However, Rev. Lee understood that if justice was going to prevail, if heaven was going to break loose, somebody needed to pick up and carry a cross. So, Rev. Lee kept preaching, and he kept printing, until he was murdered by White Supremacists.

William Lewis Moore, a postman in Baltimore, could have remained safe and comfortable in his home in Maryland in 1963. But instead, he decided to pick up a cross and travel to Mississippi.  There, Moore staged a one-man march against segregation to deliver a letter to the governor urging an end to the hate. But before making it to Jackson, he was shot and killed.

In 1964, the Rev. Bruce Klunder, a Presbyterian minister, was aware he was carrying a cross every time he demonstrated for fair housing and spoke out against segregation and discrimination. But when he decided to follow Jesus, he decided that there were things more important in this world than his life. And one day, while out protesting the construction of a segregated school in Cleveland, Ohio, he was brutally murdered when he was crushed to death by racist operating a bulldozer.

The following year, after watching state troopers attack civil rights marchers on the Edmund Pettus bridge in Selma, Alabama, the Rev. James Reeb, a Unitarian minister from Boston, drove to Selma, picked up a cross and joined the marchers. After the march, while he was walking down a street in Selma, he was attacked and beaten to death by white men.

After Viola Liuzzo, a housewife and mother from Detroit, saw the televised reports of the attack on the Edmund Pettus bridge by state troopers, she decided to pick up a cross and follow Jesus alone to Alabama to help with the Selma march. Though none went with her, she still followed. And while she was helping to ferry marchers between Selma and Montgomery, she was shot and killed by a Klansmen.

That same year, Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal Seminary student in Boston, decided to pick up a cross and go to Alabama to help with black voter registration. He was arrested at a demonstration, jailed, and then suddenly released, only to be immediately shot to death by a deputy sheriff.

In 1966, Vernon Dahmer, a wealthy businessman from Hattiesburg, Mississippi, picked up a cross when he offered to pay poll taxes for those who couldn’t afford the fee required to vote. The night after a radio station broadcasted Dahmer’s offer, his house was fire-bombed. Days later, Dahmer died from severe burns.

Two years later, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a Baptist minister and leader of the Civil Rights Movement, knew that if freedom was to ever ring, if his dream of a beloved community was ever to be realized, somebody needed to pick up and carry a cross. Thus, despite receiving countless death threats, King kept preaching. He kept marching. He kept protesting. He kept carrying a cross, no turning back, until he was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee.

As the late Frank Tupper, my seminary professor of theology, once said: “There’s a lot of correlation between what happened in Memphis in 1968 and what happened in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago.”

Whether we like it or not, when Jesus talked about carrying a cross, he wasn’t talking about working in the nursery or serving on a ministry team, as important as those things are. He was talking about a passionate, courageous willingness to put it all on the line. His words are nothing less than radical. For he doesn’t say that we cannot be exemplary disciples, super-hero disciples, unless we carry a cross. He says that we cannot call ourselves disciples at all unless we are willing to sacrifice it all.

I recently saw a sign outside of a church which boasted: “We help people win.”

The problem with that is that our faith is not about winning. Our faith is about losing.

This thing called “discipleship,” this thing called “church,” is not about achieving a good, better, happy or successful life, or even gaining an eternal life. It’s about dying to self.

It’s not about receiving a blessing. It’s about a willingness to risk it all to be a blessing.

It’s not about having our souls fed. It’s about sacrificing it all to feed the hungry.

It’s not about finding a home. It’s about giving it all to provide a home for the homeless.

It’s not about prosperity. It’s about giving everything we have to the poor.

It’s not about getting ahead. It’s about sharing with people who can barely get by.

It’s about courageously taking risks. It’s about challenging the powers-that-be. It’s about raising our voices in front of the city council, getting arrested if we must. It’s about an unwavering, fearless willingness to lose it all while fighting for the marginalized and standing against the haters.

The Rev. Dr. William Barber, a Disciples minister who has been arrested 17 times for protesting injustices, says that one of his arrest records reads: “praying too loud.”

When we call ourselves disciples, we are saying that we have decided to follow Jesus, which always involves praying loudly for God’s peace and justice, standing on the side of love, even if it costs us our very lives. We are saying that we’re going to follow Jesus wherever he leads us, even into dark, dreadful, dangerous places. Though none go with us, though friends and family forsake us, though proud boys threaten us, we still will follow. Our crosses we’ll carry, forward together, not one step back. Until we see Jesus. No turning back, no walking it back, no dialing it back, no turning back, no turning back.

-Sermon inspired the prophetic preaching of Rev. Dr. William Barber

Pastoral Prayer

Before he was executed by the Nazis in 1945, German Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote the following words that I believe the American Church needs to hear again:

Cheap grace is the preaching of…forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession…  Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ living and incarnate. Costly grace is…the gospel which must be sought again and again. The gift which must be asked for, the door at which one must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs us our lives. It is grace because it gives us the only true life.

The following pastoral prayer was inspired by Bonhoeffer’s timeless words:

O good and gracious God, we come to this place this morning to recommit ourselves to being faithful disciples of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. However, if we are ever going to truly follow Jesus, we will first need to repent of our sins that are derived from our love with what your servant Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.”

We gather in this place to hear preaching that will remind us that we are loved and forgiven; not to hear that we need to change our selfish ways.

We gather to remember the way we came up out of the waters of our baptism to symbolize life abundant and eternal; not to remember our immersion into the waters to symbolize death to self.

We come to gather around a table to receive the gift of Holy Communion; not to confess our sins and our shortcomings.

We come to this place to be accepted with grace and love; not to be encouraged to accept others with grace.

We come here to worship at the foot of the cross; not to pick it up and carry it ourselves.

We come here to worship Christ in the safety and comfort of this sanctuary; not fully realizing that the Christ is actually alive today, present here, calling us, prodding us, pulling us to follow him out into a risky and uncomfortable world.

So, O God, forgive us of our love for “cheap grace.” Help us to truly repent, turn from our selfish ways and seek to live for a grace, in a grace, and by a grace that is worthy of your sacrificial love for us, even if it is “costly.”

May we keep asking, keep knocking at your door, keep giving our lives away to you, keep denying ourselves, and keep looking to you for the strength we need to pick up our crosses and follow our Lord and our Savior wherever he leads. Because we know that this grace, although it costs us our very lives, is the only way to experience life now and forever.