Author: Rev. Dr. Jarrett Banks

B.S. Wingate University, 1988 M.Div. Southern Seminary, 1992 D.Min. Gardner-Webb University, 2005 Served churches in Kentucky, Georgia, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Arkansas and North Carolina Currently serving at First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, Virginia

Hilda Duke: What She Taught Me About God

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Hilda

I preached the following sermon entitled “Coincidence or Providence” on March 25, 2007 for the First Baptist Church of Farmville, NC. Hilda Duke, who passed away yesterday, was the inspiration for this sermon. I will always love her immensely. 

Isaiah 43:16-21

On Sunday morning, February 5, 2006, Hilda Duke left the worship service looking like she’d seen a ghost.  I asked, “What’s wrong, Hilda?”  She said, “You won’t believe it.  But today is the day my husband, Wilton, passed away eight years ago.  And every hymn that was sung this morning in worship was sung at his funeral service.”

Wilton died the year before I came to Farmville.  I had no idea when Wilton died, and I certainly did not know what was sung, if anything at his funeral.  “What a wonderful coincidence!” I thought to myself.

One morning a couple of weeks ago I was in the office here at church helping Patty with the bulletin.  After spending about a half hour with her, I went into my office to study for a little while.  About half way through my studying, Peggy Whitfield entered my mind.  I knew she was probably at the place that she had been for days—in the nursing home with her brother who was slowly passing away.

As much as I tried to continue studying, I just could not get Peggy off my mind.  Peggy, one of our most gifted deacons is so good at visiting patients and family members in the hospitals and nursing homes, and now here she was at the bedside of her dying brother.  I kept thinking about her and could no longer concentrate on my studies, so I got up and told Patty that I was going to drive out to the nursing home for a little while.

As soon as I walked into the room, I hugged Peggy who was sitting at a table near the door, and before I could speak to anyone else, Peggy’s niece who was at Jimmy’s bedside said, “Peggy, you might want to come over here.  His breathing has changed.”

I walked to the foot of the bed with Peggy and saw that Jimmy was taking his final breaths.

“Would you like me to say a prayer?”  I asked.

“Yes, please,” several responded.

I prayed briefly, asking God to be with and take care of Jimmy in death as God had been with and taken care of him in life.  When I said, “Amen,” Jimmy took his last breath.

And I thought to myself, “what a wonderful coincidence!”

Before I left the nursing home, Peggy hugged me goodbye and said, “Your timing could not have been more perfect.  The Lord certainly does work in mysterious ways.”

I drove back to the church thinking about what just happened.  I drove up Main Street, thinking and pondering, wrestling and doubting.

Was it just a mere coincidence that Peggy came to my mind while I was studying, or was it something else?  Should I say that “Peggy came to my mind” or would it be more accurate to say that “Peggy was brought to my mind?”

A mere coincidence?  Did her name just rise up, haphazardly and randomly, from the recesses of my conscience during that moment in my office?  Or was it brought to my consciousness from outside of my consciousness?

A year ago, was it just by mere happenstance that I selected the hymns from Wilton’s funeral service on the eighth anniversary of his passing?  Did those titles just come to me, randomly, accidently?

Or were they brought to me?

The dictionary defines “coincidence” as “an accidental sequence of events that appear to have a causal relationship.”  This is how, of course, the main way the modern world has taught us to think of our lives—as a random, pointless, series of accidents.

Therefore, any thought that may happen to come into my mind as I am sitting in my office is always exclusively coincidental, accidental, and random, never intentional, designed, purposeful, and gifted.  It was just happenstance that I showed up in the nursing home when I did.  I was not compelled to go or propelled to go by anything external.

In freshman biology class, this was taught to us as teleological fallacy.  The Greek word for “end,” or “purpose,” is telos.  Science does not engage in speculation about purposes and ends, only means.  And the means are always accidental.  The world in which we live is random, coincidental.

The professor tried to trick us on the exam.  Trick question: “Why did the giraffe develop a long neck?” And the professor probably expected that we dummies would answer something like, “The giraffe developed a long neck in order to reach the leaves in the top of the trees for food.

No, we had listened in class, studied our notes and read our textbook, so we answered, “The giraffe developed a long neck, not because of any plan or purpose, certainly not because of any plan or purpose, certainly not because of any divinely inspired program, but rather the end of a series of mutations, random changes that proved beneficial.”

Science has been very successful in carrying this sort of thinking a long and doing a lot of good with it. But right now, at this stage in human history, I’m wondering if a good deal of reality has been lost in this sort of thinking. I believe we would do well to listen again to these wonderful words from Isaiah.  “Behold, I am doing a new thing.”

Israel is in Babylonian exile, trapped, far from home, forlorn and without hope, except that God promises to make a new thing for them.  Here are words addressed to people who have no way out if there is not a God who not only care but also acts.  Their hope, our hope in life, in death, in life beyond death, is that our God lives and acts, creates and intervenes, intrudes and moves among us. Our hope is that our God speaks to our consciousness from without, puts thoughts into our minds, leads us and directs us in right paths for his name sake.

But this is not how we have been trained by the modern world.  We’ve been conditioned to admit that any strange, external sort of word is mere coincidence, a kind of random, accidental, meaningless glitch of the brain that means very little.

But what if it means everything?  What if these so called coincidental thoughts are some of the best thinking that we do?  What if all of these weird coincidences we experience in life are as close to reality, as close to what is really real in this world, as we human beings can get?

I believe we’ve got to break ourselves of the habit of dealing with things that happen to us, or visions that come our way, or words that come to our mind, by dismissing it as mere coincidence.  For those who are convinced that the Word has been made flesh, and the Son of God has intruded into the world, that God is always working in this world, creating and re-creating and resurrecting and transforming, there is nothing in this world that can be labeled “mere.”

For people with faith in the risen Christ, a miracle, the supernatural, is not something that momentarily intrudes among us into an otherwise natural world, but rather for us, it is all miracle and it all comes from the creative hand of God.  We look at trees blooming everywhere on this first weekend of spring in a completely different way.  It’s all supernatural.  It’s all extraordinary.

We pay attention to conversations, we listen to the reading of an ancient text, and we listen to the singing of the hymn, with the assumption that it is all potentially revelation, all the footsteps and handiwork of an intrusive God.

As Frederick Buechner says, “in the last analysis of all, all moments are key moments and life itself is grace.”

Our grandmother in the faith, Sarah, was one day straightening up her tent in the desert when these three people, complete strangers, show up.  Sarah extends hospitality to the strangers, welcomes them, and prepares a meal for them.

And after the satisfying meal, one of the strangers peaks and blesses Sarah and her husband Abraham, tells Sarah that she is going to have a baby that will be the beginning of a great people, a great family, Israel, a family that will bless all of the world’s families.  Suddenly, the text moves from describing these people as mere visitors, to describing them as the “Lord.”

In fact, later, early Christian preachers through these three strangers as embodying God—the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  When Paul later referred to this incident, he said that, “Some have entertained angels unaware.”

Now I know that, to the world, this is making a huge deal out of a meal for three ordinary visitors.  A simple meal, even eating with people that we don’t know, is a merely ordinary experience.

But having been encountered by the Christ, having experienced a God who is not distant and disinterested, we do not live in the ordinary and we don’t deal with people, with one another, with the world, as merely anything.  For us, with eyes of faith, it is never merely coincidental, accidental or happenstance.  It’s revelation.  It’s extraordinary.  It is a gift of God who does not leave us alone, who loves us enough to seek and to find and to reveal.

Our God keeps promising us, “Behold, I’m doing a new thing!” Can you see it?

Peggy Whitfield was absolutely right.  Our Lord works in mysterious ways.  And our Lord is here right now and he’s working all around us.

Can you see it?

Heroic Role Models

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

Danny Baker

Last Sunday, Pima County Sheriff’s Sergeant Derek Tyra was supervising seven other deputies handling traffic control and basic event safety, protecting the runners during a race in Tucson named for Gabe Zimmerman, the Aide who was killed in the shooting involving Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords on January 8, 2011.

During the race, Tyra received a call that a car driven by a suspect in a shooting was possibly heading toward the runners. As a car matching the description of the vehicle passed by, Tyra gave chase and decided to perform a “high risk stop” which meant he would have to place himself between the suspect and the runners.

Tyra managed to pull the vehicle over and safely apprehend the suspect.

“The man is a hero,” the race director said. “He says that it’s just what they’re supposed to do, but it’s pretty amazing that he was able to intervene with a live shooting suspect just steps from all these runners. He may have saved any number of lives with his actions today.”

“I just happened to be at the right place at the right time,” Tyra said. “I didn’t think twice about it.”

As I read this amazing story, I immediately thought of Fort Smith Police Captain Danny Baker, who ran in uniform alongside of Marine Captain Maggie Seymour and local runners who were pushing three children with special needs in the Ainsley’s Angels in Arkansas’ inaugural event on Monday morning.

It was remarkable that Captain Baker was able to run the 3.5 miles on a hot, humid morning in uniform. However, it was more remarkable how he ran. Captain Baker ran placing himself between the runners and the vehicles that were passing by in the left lane on busy Highway 64. He ran with one eye on the runners and the children and one eye on the traffic, motioning the runners several times to keep to the right.

Captain Baker kept everyone safe, and he didn’t think twice about it.

Thank you Captain Baker and law enforcement officers everywhere who serve and protect our communities selflessly and sacrificially. You are not only heroically fulfilling your duties, but you are serving as role models for us all.

For this is part of our mission as the body of Christ in this world. The Apostle Paul put it this way: “Love your neighbors as yourself [and remember] that love does no harm to your neighbor” (Romans 13:10). God calls us to selflessly and sacrificially place ourselves between our neighbors and anything that may harm them, and not think twice about it.

It’s just what we are supposed to do.

Wake-Up Call!

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

Romans 13:8-14 NRSV

It was the summer of 2013. It had been three years since I served my last church. At the time, I didn’t think I would ever serve as a pastor again.

I was on a business trip in Las Vegas, the city that’s said to represent everything depraved that is within us.

Early one morning, I went for a run on the Strip. The streets were already crowded with people. Some were shopping. Some were on their way to another casino. While others were on their way to do who knows what to fulfill their most selfish desires.

As I ran along, I noticed that all of the electronic billboards suddenly changed displaying a picture of a young man with words that read: “David Vanbuskirk.1977-2013. Las Vegas Police Search and Rescue Officer.” I would soon learn that Vanbuskirk was killed while rescuing a hiker stranded in an off-limits area of a mountain northwest of Las Vegas, when he fell from a helicopter hoist line.

I ran a few more blocks, until I noticed that the people walking up and down the busy sidewalks began to stop and peer down the street that was suddenly empty of traffic. The entire Strip, which was booming with the sounds of automobiles and of people enjoying themselves a few seconds earlier, became profoundly silent.

A man removed his hat. A woman covered her heart with her hand. A little boy, sitting on his father’s shoulders, saluted. I stopped running. And with everyone else, my eyes turned toward the street where we watched and listened as a very long police motorcycle motorcade produced the only sound on the hushed strip. The motorcade was followed by a white police pick-up truck carrying a flag-draped casket.

People remained silent and still for several more minutes. Some bowed their heads. Others wiped tears from their eyes. Others embraced their loved ones.

Here are some questions I believe the church needs to ask today:

What was it that stopped the traffic on one of the busiest streets in the country?

What was it that got everyone’s attention?

What was it that made people cry?

What was it that got even the most indulgent and decadent one, in the heart of sin city, to believe in something greater than thenself?

What was it that turned eyes away from reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy and toward selflessness and sacrifice?

What is it that has the power to change the world?

It’s the very power that is the heart of our Christian faith, or should be the heart of our faith.

It’s the power that caused firefighters, police officers and first responders to run into the Twin Towers on 9-11 when everyone else was running out of them.

It’s the power that has sent John Mundy and hundreds of volunteers back to Texas this weekend. It’s the power behind our prayers for Florida and the Caribbean.

It’s the power that gives generously to disaster relief funds like Week of Compassion.

It’s the power that can unite our government to save the lives of the Dreamers.

It’s the force that created the universe, this good earth, and every living thing in it (Genesis 1-2).

It’s the source of all life (John 1:4).

It’s the burning compulsion to liberate God’s people from the evils of oppression and slavery (Exodus 3).

It’s the fire in the prophet’s voice to welcome the foreigner, defend the orphan, stand up for the poor and take care of the widow (Isaiah 1:17).

It’s the drive that sent Emmanuel into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save the world (John 3:17).

It’s the energy that continues to pour out the very Spirit of God on all flesh to overwhelm evil and overcome death (Romans 12:21).

It’s the power of love—pure, unconditional, unreserved, unrelenting —passionate love that propels action, deep love that compels sacrifice.

Jesus said there is no greater power in the world than the power of love compelling one to lay down one’s life for another (John 15:13). And there is no greater commandment than to love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:40).

To the Corinthians, Paul writes about faith, hope and love, but says that the greatest of these is love. And if love is not in our words, even in our confessions of faith, then we are only making noise. If love is not the heart of all that we do, we are nothing (1 Corinthians 13).

To the Romans, Paul echoes the words of Jesus:

You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are 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 (Romans 13:9-10).

Paul writes that “now is the moment” we need to “wake up” and understand that what the world needs now is love (Romans 13:11). And as Dionne Warwick sings, “not just for some, but for everyone.”

When it comes to loving all people, we have too many Christians who keep hitting the snooze button. They pull the covers over their heads, close their eyes, and selfishly sleep. For whatever reason: self-preservation, control, greed, to protect their privileged positions, they seek darkness over light, judgment over grace, exclusion over acceptance, and hate over love.

John calls them “false prophets” who possess “the spirit of the anti-Christ” and “a spirit of error” (1 John 4:1-6).

Stressing how essential it is for Christians possess a spirit of love, he then pleads:

Love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love…  No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and God’s love is perfected in us (1 John 4:7-12).

I began to think about the rescue of that stranded hiker. Vanbuskirk probably didn’t know anything about that hiker. He didn’t know whether the hiker was male or female; rich or poor; Democrat or Republican; gay or straight; documented or undocumented; Muslim or Christian; black, brown or white.

He didn’t know if this person would ever contribute to society, or ever give a dime to the Fraternal Order of the Police.

He just knew that the hiker was stranded and needed help. He just knew the hiker was afraid. The hiker was hungry, thirsty, wounded. And Vanbuskirk was called to protect and serve.

Vanbuskirk wasn’t concerned about breaking any religious, cultural or political rules. His only concern was rescuing the perishing, saving the lost.

It was in that moment that something inside of me woke up. It was like an alarm went off inside my soul. Love—pure, unconditional, unreserved, unrelenting. Passionate love pierced my heart. Deep love roused me from a self-absorbed slumber. And there, in the middle of the Miracle Mile, I began to pray:

“God, if you give me an opportunity to serve as a pastor again, I am going to do all that I can to lead your people to love others more than self, to serve and protect courageously, graciously, expecting absolutely nothing in return.

God, I will lead your church with great worship services, but more importantly, I will lead your people to worship you with great service. And I will lead them to do it with no strings attached, selflessly, sacrificially, always lovingly.

Lord, together, we will comfort the fearful, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, heal the wounded, not because they might believe like we believe, contribute to our budget, or even attend one of our services, but simply because they need help.

Lord, we will serve without prejudice, without judgment. We will love all people, and all means all.”

Before I came home from that trip to Vegas, I received a phone call from the search committee of the First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Farmville, North Carolina, asking me if I would consider being their pastor.

And four years later, I stand before you today believing that what the world needs now more than anything else is for the church to wake up to rediscover what is the very heart of our faith: love, not just for some, but for everyone.

I love the quote from German Lutheran theologian of the early seventeenth century, Rupertus Meldenius that is usually printed in our order of service: “In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, diversity. In all things, love.”

When thinking about what is essential to our faith, we might say that it is our confession of faith, “Jesus is Lord.” But we can say “Jesus is Lord” all day long, but if we don’t have love, we are only making noise, says Paul. We can say we love God, but if we don’t love our neighbors, we are liars, says John. This is why Jesus says: “Many will call me Lord, yet I will have to say to them, depart from me, for I never knew you.”

Love is our essential. And it is in this essential that we must be unified. Then, we say, “In non-essentials diversity.” And just in case you didn’t get it the first time, we are going to say it again, “in all things, love.”

I have heard the term wake-up call many times in the short-time I have been your pastor. The white nationalists’ march on Charlottesville has been called a wake-up call. The “Nashville Statement” put out by Christians to further marginalize the LGBT+ community has been termed a wake-up call. I heard the solar eclipse and Hurricanes Harvey and Irma referred to as wake-up calls.

I don’t believe the Apostle Paul cares what we use for an alarm, because we already “know what time it is. How now is the moment to wake up. For salvation is coming near. The time has come to lay-aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”

So, let’s wake up and love our world.

Let us love our city so purely that it stops traffic on Rogers Avenue.

Let us love our neighbors so unconditionally that it gets everyone’s attention.

Let us love people so unreservedly that it brings tears to the eyes of strangers.

Let us love so relentlessly that it gets even the most selfish, indulgent and decadent one in this city to believe in something greater than self.

Let us love so passionately that it turns people’s hearts away from indifference and toward justice, away from reveling and drunkenness and toward self-denial and selflessness, away from debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy and toward empathy and compassion, sacrifice and generosity.

Let us love the creation so deeply that it changes the world!

Amen.

 

Invitation to Communion

This table has been set with the power that created the universe, the source of all life that liberates the oppressed, overwhelms evil and overcomes death. This table has been set with love—pure, unconditional, unreserved, unrelenting—passionate love propelling action, deep love compelling sacrifice.

And it is love incarnate, the living Christ, who invites all to receive this power and share it with the world.

 

Commissioning and Benediction

You know what time it is!

The time is now! This is the moment!

Having awakened from a self-absorbed slumber,

go and love the creation so deeply that it changes the world.

Go and stop some traffic.

Go and get somebody’s attention.

Go and make somebody cry.

Go and help somebody believe.

And may the God who is love, the Christ who exemplified and commanded love, and the Spirit who empowers love, be with us all.

Getting Our Hands Dirty

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

Harvey

John 9:1-7 NRSV

Let’s think for a minute what it did for that poor blind man when the disciples began theological debate over his blindness.

“So, they say you were born blind?  Well, let get out our Bibles and see if we can find some theological reason for your blindness. It has to be because of sin.  But since you were born blind, perhaps it’s not your sin that is to blame but the sins of your parents.”  Yes, I’m sure all of that blaming did a whole lot for that poor man!

But how often have we’ve been guilty of doing the same. For some reason, because we are Christian, we believe it is our holy responsibility to try to explain human suffering and misery in light of our faith in God.

Since Hurricane Harvey flooded Texas, I have heard people blame the Mayor Sylvester Turner, climate change, the lack of zoning regulations, Donald Trump, the recent solar eclipse and even same-sex marriage. I am sure there will more blame associated with Hurricane Irma in the coming days.

In the face of human pain and suffering, there are two predominate responses by the church.

The first one is that God has a reason for it. God is sitting at the command center in complete control of every earthly thing that happens.

The other point of view is one of silence, just silence.

I find both of these responses troubling. Those who believe God has some kind of divine purpose for every evil thing that happens in this world paint a very mean portrait of God. And those who respond with silence make God out to seem detached and uncaring.

However, I believe the life, suffering and death of Christ teach us that when the rains poured down, so flowed the very tears of God. When the waters overflowed the banks of the bayous, so broke the very heart of God. When lives were suddenly drowned out, so emptied the very self of God. God was not causing the evil. Neither was God silent.

This is where I believe the story of the man born blind can be helpful. When Jesus is questioned about the man’s suffering by his disciples, Jesus doesn’t answer their questions, but neither is he silent. Jesus responds that this is the time, not to assign blame or responsibility, but rather, to bend to the ground and get his hands dirty, so that the glory of God might be revealed.

In the wake of the many storms in our world, may we do the same.

On a Self-Denying, Self-Giving Mission

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

Time Magazine

Matthew 16:21-28 NRSV

As our facebook profile picture suggests, the First Christian Church of Fort Smith is on a mission.

We are on a mission to be a church of extravagant welcome. We want to live up to the identity statement of our denomination and truly welcome all people to the Lord’s Table as God has graciously welcomed us. Because when we graciously and generously welcome others, we welcome God. When we compassionately and lovingly include others, we include God.

And when we say we include God here, we are saying that we believe the spirit of the Risen Christ is actually present, moving, working, stirring, prodding, pulling, pushing, and calling us to be on this mission, and I believe he is calling us in the same way he called the first disciples, with the simple, yet profound words:

If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.

Jesus says that the first thing we need to do is to decide if we want to follow him. He said: “If any want to be my followers…”

You have heard me say that I believe the reason there are so many empty pews these days on Sunday mornings, is because of the perception that many have of the church. Instead of seeing a group of people who have made a decision to follow Jesus, they look at the church and see some type of religious club created for members to make them feel holier and more superior than others.

This is perhaps why the first thing Jesus says we must do once we decide we want to follow him is to “deny ourselves.” This thing called “discipleship,” this thing called “church,” is not about us. It’s not about making us feel spiritual, righteous, enriched or blessed. It is not about achieving a good, better, happy or successful life, or even gaining an eternal life. It’s about dying to self.

Church is not about receiving a blessing. It is about being a blessing.

It is not about having our souls fed. It is about feeding the hungry.

It is not about finding a home. It is about providing shelter for the homeless.

It is not about prosperity. It is about giving everything away to the poor.

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

I recently saw a church billboard inviting people to their church by saying: “Help people win.”

The problem with that is that our faith is not about winning. It’s about sacrifice.

I believe the reason some churches fail to look like Jesus today is because, in our attempt to entice new members, excite new members, gain new members, we have made the church about us. We say: “Come, and join our church where we have sermons, music and programs that are certain to enrich your life.” Instead of saying: “Come, join our church, where you will be given opportunities to give your life away.” “Come, join our church, where you will be encouraged to sacrifice and selflessly serve.”

Jesus said, “Let them deny themselves, and take up their crosses.”

I don’t know how it happened, or precisely when it happened, but I can understand why it happened. At some point we have interpreted taking up and carrying our crosses to mean something completely different than what Jesus intended. The crosses we bear have become synonymous with the suffering that we involuntarily have to put up with in life.

We say: “Diabetes: It’s my cross that I have to bear.” “Arthritis: It’s the cross I carry.” “Migraine headaches: It’s my cross.”

However, when Jesus is talking about cross bearing, he is talking about something completely different. He is not talking about some kind of involuntary suffering that we are forced to endure for being human. He is talking about the suffering that we voluntarily choose for the sake of our mission to be a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.

Jesus is talking about living a life so transformed by the love of God that we cannot remain comfortably complacent while others are suffering from disease, grief, disability, poverty, a catastrophic flood, abuse, addiction, discrimination, or even from bad choices they have made.

Forgiving someone who has wronged us and continues to cause indescribable pain in our life, may be a cross Jesus is calling us to carry.

Visiting residents in a nursing home when a nursing home is the last place we want to be, may be a cross Jesus is calling us to bear.

Spending our time mentoring a young adult raised in foster care when we already have little or no time for ourselves, may be a cross Jesus is calling us to pick up.

Agreeing to volunteer to feed the food insecure when our own cabinets are almost bare, may be a cross Christ is calling us to take up.

Choosing a less lucrative career path because we feel called to serve others might be a cross Jesus is asking us to carry.

Loving all of our neighbors as ourselves knowing that loving some of our neighbors will inevitably cost us something is a cross Jesus wants all of us to bear.

Donating to the Week of Compassion Mission fund to help hurricane victims when our own budgets are tight, or making plans to go rebuild a flooded home when our own homes need some work, is a cross I believe Jesus is calling us to carry.

Standing up for the dignity and rights of minorities, of the poor, of those marginalized by the culture and by bad religion, is a cross that I believe Jesus commands all of us to take up.

I believe the reason some churches are failing to look like Jesus is because they only encourage their members to do what makes them happy, what brings them satisfaction, what makes them comfortable. “Do you love kids? Do children make you happy? Then help us with children’s church!” “Do you love going to the hospital to visit sick people? Have you always wanted to be a nurse? Then serve on our hospital ministry team!”

However, as a leader of this church, I am going to lead you to do things may not only be uncomfortable for you, but I am going to lead you to do some things that actually might cause you to suffer.

Because, you called me to be your pastor. You didn’t call me to be your activities director.

That’s because we are a church. We are not a club. We are far from perfect, but we have intentionally made a decision to follow Jesus by denying ourselves and taking up a cross.

This is what makes being a pastor so difficult, especially being a new pastor. Because, like most pastors that I know, I want you to like me.

Seriously, right or wrong, that is perhaps the most stressful part of my life right now. Does my new congregation like me? After all, I like them. And besides that, they pay my salary, and I have two kids in college!

However, because I am called to be your pastor and not your club president, and because this mission we are on together is not about what either one of us like, it is my calling to lead us to do things we may not want to do, to go to places we may not want to go, to love people we don’t want to love, to include people we would rather exclude. And I realize how difficult it is to always like someone who is leading you in that direction. Jesus’ disciples certainly did not like Jesus leading them in that direction.

I suppose it’s a cross that I have been asked to carry. But may God forgive me, may the Spirit convict me, and may the elders of this church have a special meeting and call me out, if I ever succumb to the temptation to be your pastor without carrying a cross.

Finally, Jesus says, “After you make the decision to follow me, after you deny yourselves, and after you pick up your crosses, then I want you to follow me.”

Notice he doesn’t say to walk down a church aisle and publically confess he is our personal Lord and Savior. Notice he doesn’t say: “Have a personal relationship with me.” And notice he doesn’t say to “worship me” or “study me.”

Jesus says to “follow,” which denotes going, moving, action; not sitting in a pew or in a Sunday School classroom. Jesus wants us to go and do the things that he does, share the same radical grace that he shares, go and do what we can to lavish this world with his revolutionary love even if it costs us everything.

It’s important to make this sanctuary, our narthex, our chapel, Disciples Hall, and every Sunday School room, even every restroom, a place of welcome every Sunday morning. Because, when we welcome others here, we welcome God. And if we don’t welcome God here, then I am not sure what we are doing here. We’re certainly not doing church. It’s important to come together in this beautiful place to worship and to study together each week; however, church should never be limited to any place or time.

We are a church that meets in this place, but we are also a church that is on the move. We’re on a mission 24/7, following the risen Christ, loving our neighbors as ourselves, sacrificially denying ourselves, courageously taking risks, generously giving our gifts, leaving behind family and friends if we have to, as we feed the hungry, fight for the marginalized, stand against the haters, care for the elderly, include the disabled, befriend the stranger, provide shelter for the down-and-out, restore shelter for the flooded-out, give hope to the despairing, bring to life the aspirations of the Dreamer. Whether or not people like us for it, we’re going follow wherever Christ leads us, throughout the River Valley, into eastern Oklahoma, across our entire region, down to Lake Charles, then maybe over to Beaumont, Port Arthur, and in and around Houston. Though none go with us, we still will follow. Our cross 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.

 

 

Invitation to the Table

When we share the bread and the cup from this table, we remember that for our sakes, Christ denied himself and carried a cross, Christ gave himself, poured himself out for us.

We also remember that this is the one we have decided to follow. We remember that we have been called to deny ourselves and to carry a cross. We are called to give ourselves, to pour ourselves out for the sake of others.

As we sing our hymn of communion may we pray for the courage to follow the Christ wherever he leads us. And may we remember that he invites all of us who have gathered here to follow him.

We Are God’s Help

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

rescue

The catastrophic images from Texas bring back painful personal memories from 1999 when Hurricane Floyd flooded our home in Eastern North Carolina. Carson and Sara, who were four and two years-old at the time, were rescued by boat, while Lori and I stayed behind to put more of our things into the attic. We spent the next three months living in a FEMA camper in the driveway of our decimated home.

In the days the water receded, I remember being overwhelmed with feelings of despair. We had only lived in our home for six weeks prior to the flood. It was the first home we ever owned, and we had yet to make our first mortgage payment. Because we did not have flood insurance, rebuilding our home seemed impossible.  I cannot recall any other time in my life when I felt more hopeless. If ever I needed divine help, it was then.

Thankfully, help from God came. Every week help came. Help came bringing pry bars, hammers and saws to rip out carpet, pull up flooring, tear out sheetrock and pull out wet insulation. Help came bringing new flooring, sheetrock, and insulation. Help came with paintbrushes and paint.

Help also came bringing what we needed the most: hope. Help came with a message that rebuilding our home was possible. Help came with the good news that although we could not go back to the good old days before the flood, with the help of God, we could go forward into good new days.

The movie All Saints, which is now playing in theaters, is a true story of the All Saints Episcopal Church of Smyrna, Tennessee. The church was preparing to close their doors for good and sell their property when a group of refugees from war-torn Southeast Asia showed up.

In one scene, the teenage son of Rev. Spurlock asks his father about the fate of the refugees if he decides to allow the church to close.

Rev. Spurlock responds: “We must pray and ask God to help them.”

His son replies: “Dad, aren’t you God’s help?”

The people of East Texas need our prayers. However, when we pray for God to help them, may we remember that we are God’s help.

Today, we can be divine help by sending our dollars to Texas by giving to the mission fund of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) at http://www.weekofcompassion.org. You can designate 100% of your gifts to help communities affected by Hurricane Harvey.

In the days, weeks, and months to come, we will have opportunities to be divine help by sending ourselves, bringing tools and building materials. More importantly, we will have opportunities to be divine help by bringing what these people need now more than anything else: hope.

We will have opportunities to go with the good news, that with the help of God, although it seems impossible, good new days are indeed ahead.

Eclipsed by Grace

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short Articles2 Comments


On Monday, if just for a moment, our busy lives were eclipsed by miracle.

At some point we stopped whatever we were doing, with friends, family or co-workers, to wonder at crescent shapes in the shadows on sidewalks, peer through homemade projectors crafted from an empty box of Cheerios, or gaze through a new pair of solar glasses that we will likely misplace or discard before we need them again. The hot August air cooled. The sky darkened. The moon eclipsed the sun, and we expressed a collective “wow!”

The news channels stopped talking about the threat of  nuclear war, unstable world leaders, democrats and republicans, racists and terrorists, and showed us beautiful pictures of heavenly bodies that united us in awe.

It was just what our country needed.

We needed a pause to see the sheer mystery and miracle of it all. We needed a break to experience the utter grace of this mystery we call life. And we needed to do it together, in community, as one people.

It didn’t take long for us to see it, to experience it, and to get it. We only needed a few minutes for it to come into focus. Sun, moon, crescent lights on shadowy sidewalks, cool August breeze, projections in a homemade projector: It was all miracle, and it was all grace, completely unearned, undeserved.

Moreover, as the sky lightened, we began to see that this miracle has been here all the while, every day, every minute. The sun, moon, sky, shadows on sidewalks, trees, leaves, cool breezes, our co-workers, our family and our friends, even the concrete and the Cheerios we had for breakfast last week—it is all miracle, and it is all grace. It is all gift.

And this grace that we call life has the mysterious and miraculous power to unite us all, because it is for all: Caucasian, People of Color, Christian, Muslim, Jew, None, gay, straight, English-speaking, Hispanic speaking, rich, poor, abled and disabled.

The good news is that if we will pause, if just for a moment, we can experience this grace any time, any day. We can see it, and we can get it everyday; and with our human family, with our sisters and our brothers, we can express a collective “wow” at the love and the grace that bonds us together.

On Faith, Compassion and Bigotry

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Guest Bloggers1 Comment

My friend Susan passed away suddenly the day after she published these words. Like the mother of Heather Heyer, I hope to magnify Susan’s words.

Susan Irene Fox's avatarSusan Irene Fox

My dear brothers and sisters, how can you claim to have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ if you favor some people over others? Do not try to blend the genuine faith of our glorious Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, with your silly pretentiousness. Dear brothers, what’s the use of saying that you have faith and are Christians if you aren’t proving it by your words and actions? Will that kind of faith save anyone? (James 2:1,14)

In other words, we cannot claim to be Christians, we cannot claim to follow Jesus and at the same time claim to be a white supremacist, a white nationalist, a member of the KKK, or a member of the neo Nazi Party. They are antithetical.

Nor can we simply stand by and say nothing, or choose to say silent about the horrendous bigotry of these groups whose foundation comes from hanging black people and exterminating…

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Charlottesville Wake-Up Call

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short Articles2 Comments

torches2

I first expressed the following bullet-points following the actions of domestic terrorist and white supremacist Dylan Roof in Charleston, South Carolina. Many were calling the murders of the African Americans who had gathered for a Bible Study at the Mother Emanuel Church “a wake-up call.” I have heard the same expression used this weekend following the white supremacists who gathered to spew their hate in Charlottesville. What happened? Did we fall back asleep? It is way past time for America, especially the church in America, to stop hitting the snooze button, stop closing our eyes to ignore the racism and bigotry has been emboldened in our country today.  It is way past time to wake up, rise up, stand up, and speak out, as intolerance cannot be tolerated.

  • We must wake up to the reality that racism is not only a wound from our country’s past, but it is a deadly virus that still plagues us today. White preachers, including myself, have been too often afraid to even use the word “racism” from our pulpits for fear of “stirring things up,” as if we might reignite some fire that was put out in the 1960’s, or at least by 2008 when we elected our first black president. We must wake up and boldly call this evil by name and condemn the racism that is ablaze today, in all of its current manifestations: personal racism; systemic racism; political; and the subtle racism that is prevalent in our homes, in the workplace, in the marketplace, in government, and even in the church, for Jesus could not have been more clear when he said: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

 

  • We must wake up to the reality that hatred in this country is being defended by people who are calling it “religious freedom.” In America, we believe all people are created equally; therefore, “religious freedom” never means the freedom to discriminate. Slave-owners used the same religious-freedom arguments in the nineteenth century to support slavery. Today, we do not tolerate people who want to own slaves, nor should we tolerate anyone who wants to discriminate on the basis of race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation.

 

  • We must wake up to the reality that many who cry out that they want to “Make America Great Again” loath what makes our country great today, that is, our cultural, ethnic, religious and racial diversity. We need to boldly speak out that it is this diversity that makes us look most like the image of God in which we were created. This diversity also looks like the portrait of heaven we find in the book of Revelation: “After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (7:9). We must wake up to voice our opposition to the purveyors of fear, some who are even calling people bear more arms “to take our country back.” Furthermore, we must wake up to stop folks mid-sentence when they start reminiscing about going back to the good old days of the 1950’s when “we had prayer in school,” as they are completely disregarding the fact that during this time African-Americans in our country were not only treated as second-class citizens, but were being lynched in trees.

 

  • We must wake up to the reality that the most segregated hours in our country occur on Sunday mornings. We must find ways to build bridges and tear down the walls that we have created that prevent us from worshipping and doing ministry together. To stand against racism, hatred and violence and to stand for social justice and equality for all, we must do it side by side, hand in hand, as one body, one Church, serving one Lord.

A Radical Cup of Water

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

waterhose

Matthew 10:40-42 NRSV

Matthew Chapter 10 is perhaps one of the most demanding chapters in the entire Bible.

Early in the chapter, we read that the discipleship business is a risky business. We are to go out into the world and encounter the sick and the dying. We are to engage those possessed by pure evil. We are to be willing to leave behind our families, our homes, even our clothes! Persecution is not only to be accepted. It is to be welcomed!  To save one’s self, we are to practice denying one’s self, pouring one’s self out, losing one’s self.

And when read it, we think, “You know, I don’t think I am really cut out for this discipleship business. I don’t have the gifts, the time, the energy, the courage, and quite honestly, I don’t have the desire.”

So thanks for the invitation, but I prefer to just keep my place safe and comfy on this padded pew.

Then, we reach the end of the chapter and we read these words: “Whoever gives even a cold cup of water to one of these little ones—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

And we say: “Hey now.  Wait just a minute. You know, I think I might be able to handle this! I can’t heal the sick—I hate hospitals, and I do all I can do to avoid nursing homes.

I don’t have what it takes to minster to the poor. They make me nervous, make me feel dirty, stress me out.

I can’t be with the dying. That is what Hospice is for. And I dread going to funerals. I never know what to say or what to do.

And I can’t leave my family behind. I can’t give up my possessions. And I don’t want to even think about losing my life. But hey, I am all about sharing a cold cup of water!

Finally! Something I can handle. So, Jesus, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. As soon as I get home from church this afternoon, I am going to hook up my water hose to the spigot out in front of my house.  Then I am going to I make a sign and put it out by the road that reads: ‘Free cold drink of water for all who are thirsty!’ And to make the preacher happy, since it is his last Sunday, I will even add: “And all means all.”

Maybe I am cut out to be a disciple of Jesus after all!”

For most of us, this seems like some good news! We who generally fail at casting out demons (even when they show up in church), we who would rather stay in our pews than take the gospel out to the dying, we who take care of our own children while others starve in the streets, and we who find praise far more satisfying than persecution, even we can open the doors of the kingdom through a simple act of hospitality, as small as giving a thirsty stranger a cold cup of water.

“Praise be to Jesus!” we say.

“So, I am going to just forget about all of that other stuff Jesus talked about, that big prophetic stuff, that demanding stuff, that risky and radical stuff. I’m just going to take Jesus at his word in Matthew 10:42 and run with it!  In fact, is going to be my new favorite scripture verse. This is my new calling. This is my mantra and my ministry. Cold cups of water for all God’s people!

But you have to wonder if we aren’t missing something. For deep inside, we all know we can do a lot better than that. We all know a cross or two we could bear. We all know a neighbor we could love. We all know someone we could help out. We all know ways we could be a little less selfish, less materialistic, more generous.

True discipleship really cannot be as easy as passing out a few cups of water, can it? Are we really supposed to forget all about everything else that Jesus talked about? All of that hard stuff about “turning the other cheek,” “loving our enemies,” and selling everything we have to give to the poor?”

Surely those are the marks of true discipleship. Those are the keys to the kingdom of heaven. There’s just no way a small act of inconsequential hospitality can compare to the risky and radical business of battling the demonic, coming into contact with the sick, ministering to the dying and enduring persecution.

But Jesus seems to disagree. For in a fragmented world such as ours, a simple act of kindness, a small gesture of welcome to a stranger, a little genuine hospitality is never an easy, inconsequential act. In fact, it can be very risky business with very radical consequences.

A short time ago, I replied to an email from a complete stranger who wrote to thank me for something that I had written on my blog. By the way, I ended that article, “And all means all.”

I replied to his email with a simple, hospitable, what-seemed-to-be-inconsequential, “Thank you.”

A few days later we are friends on Facebook.

A couple of weeks later, I get a telephone call asking me to pray for him about a job opportunity in the City.

A week later, I am asked to meet this stranger at a restaurant.

Before I left the house, I told Lori exactly where I was going. I called her when I arrived and told her that if she did not hear from me in a couple hours to call the police.

During dinner, he shared with me some his burdens, some of his pain, some of fears. He told me how he had often been condemned by the church for being different. I made myself vulnerable by sharing some of my own burdens. Before we departed, we embraced, no longer as strangers, but as brothers who had made a covenant suffer with and to pray for one another. I drove home wondering: “What on earth have I gotten myself into?”

In this fragmented world, a world of walls and barriers, a world where there is so much division, so much hate and loneliness, replying to a simple email, a small gesture of hospitality, becomes a risky, radical and prophetic act that has the power to change your life, and perhaps the world.

And Jesus says to go and do this. Go out, move out, seek out, and reach out to strangers. Love your neighbors.

And yes, this world is frightening beyond our walls. Our neighbors can be so different. And the truth is some of our neighbors can be downright scary.

But our neighbors are also thirsty.

So, welcome, engage, touch. Share a drink with someone. Make yourselves vulnerable to another. For there is no other way to fulfill the purpose for which you were created—to seek and make genuine peace in this world.

This is discipleship. This is following the way of Jesus. It is done face-to-face, side-by-side, hand-to-hand, person-to-person.

We cringe. Because we know that this kind of hospitality involves risk. It involves radical openness and intimacy with another.

Offering a cup of water to another involves the risk of rejection, but also the risk of laughter; the risk of tears, but also the risk of love.

I’ve heard it said that the problem with others is that they are just so “other.” Others can quite often be different. Others may not like us. Others might refuse our kindness. Others might wound us. Others might crucify us. And worst of all, others might change us.

The truth is that putting a welcome sign in the front yard beside the water hose is a downright dangerous activity.

Nearing the end of my ministry in North Carolina before moving to be with you here in Enid, I went into the church kitchen to get a cup of coffee. A woman from the cleaning service the church had hired was in there preparing to mop the floor. Although I had seen her almost every week nearly three years, I am ashamed to say that I did not know her name.

But that day, before I really thought about it, considered the dangerous consequences of it, I asked this stranger, “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Somewhat shocked by my simple act of hospitality, she responded, “Yes, I would.”

She then introduced herself to me over that cup, as she introduced all of her children, a sick grandchild, a sister battling cancer, a brother who lost his job, and an absent husband. I filled a bag with squash and cucumbers from our community garden, and I hugged this woman who I had hardly spoken to in three years—this stranger that I had all but ignored—this woman who was no longer a stranger. She was my sister. And acknowledging the change, the miraculous transformation that had occurred, I thought, or maybe I prayed, “Good Lord, it was just one cup of coffee!”

Paraphrasing United Methodist Pastor William Willimon: This is the way of the good Lord. For Jesus, oftentimes through the smallest and simplest of ways, is always trying to change us, challenge us, move us. He welcomes and accepts us only so we will welcome others, for not only their sakes, but for our sakes.

This is the gift of community. This is why we were created. It is the answer to our own sadness, to our own loneliness and to our deepest desires. Jesus knows we were not created to live in isolation, but created from the heart of a God who lives in a self-giving, loving communion with the Son and the Holy Spirit—A heart that is so full of love that it cannot help but offer grace and redemption to all and call all into this communion.

And this communion grows. It grows when we offer kindness, gentleness, and mercy, when other lonely lives become wrapped up in our own, when the grace of God that was given to us is freely given to someone else.

And before we know it, the small cup of water we offered to another becomes a cup of salvation as fear fades, barriers fall, walls come down, hands touch, hearts connect, eyes open, lives become entwined.  Creed, color, gender, sexual orientation, it doesn’t matter.

Doing business with this kind of God, even when it seems small, safe and inconsequential, is always a risky business with radical consequences. And Jesus wants us to know that these consequences are eternal. Whether we are fighting demonic evil, healing the sick, caring for the dying, leaving behind our homes, our possessions, our friends and family, being persecuted for taking a stand for social justice, or simply offering meager acts of hospitality to a stranger, we always risk receiving salvation.

This is the great wonder of the gospel. When we reach out, accept, and welcome others, when we take the hand of another, when we embrace another, when we offer the unconditional love of God to another, even in the smallest of ways, even in sharing a glass of water or a small cup of coffee, or in responding to an email, God welcomes us.

When we encounter another, we find communion with God and receive the overflowing hospitality of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.[i]

[i] Inspired by William Willimon. “Risky Business,” Clergy Journal, Jun 26, 2005, vol 33, no 2, pp 53-56.