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

The Baptisms of Lydia and Traci

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

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Acts 16:9-15 NRSV

I believe the baptism of a certain woman named Lydia, and the baptism of a certain woman named Traci, have much to teach us this day.

Luke tells the story the baptism of Lydia. It begins with Paul and Silas sharing the good news of Jesus in Troas, an Asian town situated across the Aegean Sea from the European district of Macedonia. Paul has a vision of a man in Macedonia pleading: “Come on over and help us.” Convinced by the vision that God was calling them to go and proclaim the good news in Europe, without hesitation, they sailed to Macedonia, went through Samothrace and Neapolis, eventually settling in the leading city of Philippi.

While they were there, Paul and Silas heard about a group of women that had been gathering for worship down by the river outside the gate. So when the Sabbath came, they went and found the women, sat down with them, and engaged them in a conversation.

Then Luke says that it was obvious that this one woman in the group, this woman named Lydia, was really paying attention to what Paul had to say. And then he says some very remarkable things about this woman. First of all, he points out that she is an Asian business owner from Thyatira. Secondly, because he says that “she and her household” were baptized, it’s evident that she was the head of her household.

Now, remember, this is the first century. It’s not a period known for women working outside of the home. Females were treated as second-class citizens and even as “property.” Males were the leaders, the heads of business and the heads of households. And yet, here is a woman who is the head of both.

And since she is the only one who is pointed out to be really paying attention to what Paul was saying, she also appears to be the head of that community of faith which gathered there each week by the river.

And this says Luke, this baptism of a foreign woman who shatters all cultural expectations, this baptism of a woman who lived life two-thousand years ahead of her time, the baptism of this woman as the first European Christian, is the result of a vision from God that came to Paul.

So, what in the world was God trying to say to Paul and Silas through that vision of a man saying, “Come to Macedonia, because I need some help!”

Could it be that God was saying: “Paul and Silas, I know you are clear across the sea on another continent, but I need you to get in a boat right now and set sail to Macedonia. I need you to come over here to Europe, make your way through Samothrace and Neapolis, all the way to Philippi, and help me, once and for all, show the world that through my love revealed in Christ Jesus who continually lifted up the status of women, elevated the foreigner, accepted the Eunuchs, and did something almost daily to shatter all cultural expectations, destroying the stigma of status, race, ethnicity, class, and sexuality, that in my kingdom, there no longer Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female. Help me clearly make the statement that in Christ all are one.”

It is as if God is saying, “I know people have heard the stories of Jesus calling women to be counted among his disciples. I know the word is out that Mary and Joanna were the first ones to proclaim the good news Easter. I know many have heard about my disciple Tabitha and her works of kindness and gifts of charity. And I know that folks are hearing about the good work of sister Phoebe leading the church at Cenchreae; however, I am still afraid I am going to need some more help here in Europe. Because I have this bad feeling that if I do not do something as radical as making the first baptized Christian on this continent a strong woman like Lydia, some of these Europeans, not to mention their descendants, are still going to argue, even two-thousand years from now, that a woman has no business being at the head of a communion table, or being the head of a household, or even being the head of her own body.”

“And I know people have heard the story of the Good Samaritan, that despised foreigner who proved to be a holy neighbor to the Jewish man who who was beaten and left dead on the side of the road, but I have this terrible inkling that if I don’t make a foreigner the first European convert, some Europeans, not to mention their descendants, even two-thousand years from now, may still harbor all kinds of prejudices against those who are not of European descent. So, get yourself over here to Macedonia as fast as you can and help me baptize this certain woman named Lydia!”

I believe Paul may have Lydia in mind when he penned the following words to the church at Ephesus: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; …and has broken down the dividing wall… So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2).

Then, there is the baptism of Traci. Like Lydia, Traci is also a certain woman; however, fortunate for her, she has joined a church that has learned a thing or two from Lydia. For, here at Central Christian Church, the gifts of women are valued just as much as the gifts of men. Traci will be encouraged here to use her gifts to freely follow Christ wherever the Spirit leads.

Traci is not a foreigner. However, since she was not raised in our church, she was a stranger, an outsider to most of us. Therefore, I believe the baptism of Traci reminds us that we have been called by God to reach out beyond our walls and embrace others like Traci who did not grow up in this church, or any church for that matter, so that they will no longer be strangers.

It is as if God is saying: “I know people have heard the Great Commission of the Risen Christ to “be witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” making “…disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” But I have this bad feeling, that if I do not stir the hearts of people like Traci, and draw them into the renewing waters of the church, enlarging and changing the congregation, then the church might be tempted to become so comfortable with the status quo that they grow apathetic, just uninterested in reaching out to welcome the stranger.

The Rev. Jesse Jackson Jr. told a story at the recent men’s retreat that reminded me of something that happened to my wife Lori a few months before we came to Oklahoma. Rev. Jackson said that he went to a Popeye’s Chicken restaurant one night to get him some chicken. He went through the drive through and ordered a Chicken Combo plate. And lo and behold, the person working the drive thru window told him that they were out of chicken.

Lori had the same experience with a Bojangle’s Chicken and Biscuit restaurant in North Carolina. She went to Bojangles, which is similar to Popeye’s or a Golden Chick, to get her some chicken, only to be told that they were out of chicken.

Lori came home and said, “I am so mad. Bojangle’s Chicken and Biscuits told me that they were out of chicken. She said, “I can understand if they run out of the mashed potatoes. I can maybe even sympathize a little with them if they run out of biscuits. But Bojangle’s, like Jesse Jackson said of Popeye’s, has got no business running out of chicken!”

The baptism of Traci reminds us what the church is all about. If a church is not continually working to break down dividing walls and to build bridges and relationships with those outside the church, with the goal of having several baptismal services a year like this one a year, then the church is like a Rib Crib opening their doors for business when they’re fresh out of ribs! Might as well close down and put a chain on the doors.

After Lydia is baptized, notice the first thing that she does. She extends a gracious welcome to Paul and Silas inviting them stay at her home. Her words following her baptism remind me of our identity statement as Disciples of Christ, “We welcome all to the Lord’s table as God has welcomed us.”

I was on facebook Friday night, and I read these words from Traci’s timeline that are so so reminiscent of Lydia’s words: “Please come and visit Central Christian Church. The service starts at 10:15 am. It is a great church.”

Lydia and Traci remind us that each person in this room who has been baptized, who has been welcomed by God through the gracious hospitality of Christ, should feel compelled by the Holy Spirit of Jesus to go out from this place and welcome all people.

Through the baptisms of a certain woman named Lydia and a certain woman named Traci, I believe God is saying to each of us: “Go out, reach out, tear down a wall, build a bridge, connect, engage, get on facebook, get in a boat if you have to, travel through the streets of places like Samothrace and Neapolis and Philippi and Enid and North Enid and East, West and South Enid, because I need some help! I need some help sharing the good news that all are welcome at my table.”

Cliques and Churches

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Easter2 Comments

 

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John 10:11-18 NRSV

When I first moved to Enid, I was immediately told that Enid could be “a cliquish town.” They told me that within this town, there exist these “cliques,” these small groups, circles or factions of close knit, tight, cohesive people. I have also heard this said about every church that I have ever served with, and this church is no different.

However, this may not be as bad as it might sound. I believe there may be something good, even redemptive in the cliques of Enid and in the cliques of the Central Christian Church.

Jesus differentiated himself as a shepherd as opposed to a hired hand. He said that when the hired hand sees the wolf coming, he leaves the sheep and runs away, and the wolf snatches the sheep and scatters them. Jesus says that the hired hand runs way because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. The good shepherd, however, knows the sheep and loves the sheep and is willing to lay down his life for the sheep.

Along life’s journey, all of us have encountered shepherds and hired hands haven’t we? Perhaps it was when we, or our loved ones, were admitted to the hospital. The nurse on duty during the day was loving and caring and compassionate. He called us by name. It was apparent that he loved his job. He acted as if he had been called by God to be a nurse. Being a nurse and caring for others was his Christian vocation. He checked on us frequently and did things for us that he really did not have to do. He was a shepherd who cared for his sheep.

Then the 7:00 shift change came. The night nurse took over. And he was night and day different from the day nurse. We asked him politely for some medicine to help us rest. He rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. We only saw him one other time during the night. We never got the medicine we requested. It was obvious that he was only there to earn a pay check. There was no sense of call, no sense of vocation.  He was truly a hired hand if there ever was one. Not a caring bone in his body. He never once called us by our name.

Jesus said that he is the good Shepherd and he knows his own, and his own know him. Jesus is describing a type of inexplicable, intimate relationship. The Greek word translated “know” in this verse is the same word used to describe the intimate relationship between a married couple.

The relationship Jesus is describing is rooted in the most intimate relationship between the Father and the Son. It is a relationship which is so intimate that Jesus later says, “the Father and I are one.”

Thus, when Jesus speaks of the flock, Jesus is describing a close knit, tight, cohesive, caring, supportive flock of people. There are no strangers in this flock. Each person in the flock knows and is known, intimately, personally, profoundly. You might say that Jesus is describing a type of clique.

This knowing is much more than mere recognition. This knowing in this clique includes a deep involvement in the life of the other. It is an involvement characterized by self-giving, sacrificial love. Where folks, Jesus says, are willing to lay down their lives for one another. Jesus was describing what should characterize the life of this church, and every church.

This is what I believe makes this installation service, three and a half months after I began serving with you as your pastor, so meaningful. If we had this service in January, or even in February, many in this flock would be like strangers to me, and I might feel more like a hired hand. I told the group Wednesday night that I was glad we are having this service in April, because now, three months in, because I have come to know you, I have really come to like you folks, in fact, I have grown to love you. I think we have a pretty good clique going on here.

However, Jesus reminds us that such mutual knowing and intimacy, which is characteristic of cliques, should never become so warm, safe and cozy that it becomes exclusive. Such intimacy and caring should never be turned inward. Listen again to verse 16. I think it may be the most important part of our lesson this morning: “I have other sheep who do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also.”

Jesus reminds us that although a clique may represent a loving and caring, intimate community, a clique should never be closed. A clique should always be open-ended. The flock is not yet finally fixed. There are always others who recognize the shepherd’s voice and need to enter the fold.

I believe failing to remember this is the downfall of churches. We must always remember that communities of mutual caring and intimate knowledge should never be closed.

Someone asked me if we were an open and affirming church. I thought to myself, “What a sad day it is when someone feels like they need to ask that question!” Because as a church, we have absolutely no business being closed and condemning.

However, it is important to recognize that all of us possess a tendency to exclude those who are different from us: those who did not grow up in the church; folks who have no idea what it means to be Christian; folks who have questions and doubts; those who are burdened by all types of struggles; folks who are broken, physically, spiritually and socially; those who look, live, believe and speak differently. Comfortable with our clique, we may tend to avoid inviting and embracing the other.

But if a church gives into this tendency to shun and exclude others, then it ceases being a church. Because if a church is not, first and foremost, a place of grace for all people, then it ceases being Christian.

In Acts, chapter 11, we read that when Barnabas arrived in Antioch to visit one of the first churches, the first thing that he witnessed was “grace.” In verse 22 we read:

“…and they sent Barnabas to Antioch. When he came and saw the grace of God, he rejoiced, and he exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast devotion… and it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called ‘Christians’. I believe it is important to remember that the first clique to be called to be called Christian was called a community of grace.

As Mother’s Day approaches, our thoughts will almost certainly turn inward toward family. There is no doubt about it, a family is a clique; it is a close knit, tight, cohesive community of mutual knowing and caring. But, do you remember what Jesus reminded us about families? In the 12th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Matthew writes that as Jesus was speaking to the crowds, someone told him, “Look your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.”  And Jesus replied: “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” And pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mothers and my brothers!  For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”

Jesus had a very broad understanding of family, didn’t he? The clique is never closed. The flock is never finally fixed. Jesus yearned for deep, personal, intimate relationships with all who try to do the will of the Father. Jesus desired to be in a community of mutual knowing and caring with a broad range of people, with, in fact, all people.

They tell me that Enid is a cliquish town and Central Christian is a cliquish church. And I for one am grateful that they are absolutely correct.  Within our city there exists communities of mutual knowing and caring. The same is true with this church. There are Bible study classes and small groups who genuinely know one another and care for each another. They are not hired hands but are shepherds to one another.

However, during this installation Sunday as our thoughts turn inward as we commit ourselves to remain faithful to one another with steadfast devotion, may Jesus remind us that those thoughts should also be turned outward to the world. May Central Christian Church reach out and invite and embrace others, embrace even those who are different from us, realizing that the clique is never closed and the flock is never finally fixed.

May we go out and remembering the words of Jesus, “I have others who do not belong to this fold. And I must bring them also.”  And may we remember that we are not hired hands; we have a vocation and a high calling… We are the body of Christ.

Teresa of Avila described it this way: “Christ has no body on this earth but yours…Yours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ looks out on a hurting world; yours are the feet with which he goes about doing good; yours are the hands with which he is to bless now.”  Right now. Right here.  Let us pray together.

Lord Jesus, even though we crucified you, you rose from the dead and returned to us. Even though we forsook you and denied you, you returned and sought us out, as a shepherd seeks lost sheep. You called us by our very own names, and you summoned us to follow you as sheep follow their good shepherd. So here we are. We are together because you have called us to be together.  However, there are many others who you have also called and summoned who are not here, not yet a part of this flock.  May we have the grace and the courage to bring them in also.  Amen.

First Love

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

first-love-logofinal2

John 21:1-19 NRSV

I want us to take a close look this morning at Jesus. Look at him as he appears with wounds in his glorified, resurrected body to a few friends after Easter.  Look at him.  He had come into the world with a message through words and deeds of God’s unending, unlimited, unwavering and unconditional love for the world. But the world did not want anything to do with that message. Therefore, he was tortured, crucified and sealed in a tomb. He came to give us the best that God had to give, the gift of God’s self, and the world reciprocated that gift with the very worst the world had to give, the cross. Jesus came offering love, unbounded, unending, and we nailed it to a tree. Jesus came offering grace, free, extravagant, and it was too much for us. So, we killed him.

But there he was, standing before friends with scars on his hands and feet and in his side. Standing there rejected; standing there wounded simply asking, “Do you love me?”  And he keeps asking, “Do you love me?”  “Do you love me?  Three times he asks.  “Do you love me?”

I believe there is another way of phrasing this simple question. The rejected, wounded Jesus is standing there asking: “Do you really know how much I love you?”

Because if you and I really knew how much Jesus loves us, we would certainly love him. If we really knew the heart of God which was revealed through the love of Christ Jesus, loving this Jesus would be our only response.

John the evangelist calls this love revealed through Christ “God’s first love.”  “Let us love,” he says, “because God first loved us.” God is love and only love. So, let us love because this God has loved us freely and unconditionally from the very beginning.  The Psalmist sings that it was “in love that God created our inmost self and knit us together in our mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13).

Henri Nouwen once said that this first love is often difficult for us human creatures to comprehend. For the love with which we are most familiar is “second love.” This is the love we experience in our human relationships.  It is the affirmation, affection, sympathy, encouragement and support that we receive from our parents, spouses, church members and friends. Nouwen says that this second love is only a broken reflection of the first love. The second love is a love which often leaves us doubting that love, frustrated by that love, angry and resentful.

All of us who experience human love know just how limited, broken and very fragile it is. Nouwen says that “behind the many expressions of this second love, there is always the chance of rejection, withdrawal, punishment, blackmail, violence and even hatred. Contemporary movies and plays portray the ambiguities and ambivalences of human relationships,” and there are no friendships; there are no marriages, and there are no communities, even communities of faith, in which the “strains and stresses of the second love are not keenly felt.” With human relationships there is always the chance of “abandonment, betrayal, rejection, rupture, and loss.”  “These are all the shadow side of the second love.”

The good news of the gospel is that the second love is “only a broken reflection of the first love, and that the first love is offered to us by a God in whom there are no shadows.”

Jesus is standing there, rejected and wounded and resurrected and glorified as the incarnation of the shadow-free first love of God.  Look at him. Jesus is standing there offering from his very heart streams of living water. Listen to him. Jesus is standing there crying out with a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me!  Let anyone who believes in me come and drink” (John 8:37). “Come to me, all you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.  Shoulder my yoke and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28-29).

Jesus is standing there rejected and wounded, yet resurrected and glorified asking, “Do you love me?” “Do you have any idea how much I love you? I love you with a perfect love, a shadow free first love.  I love you without limits, without conditions. I love you without end.”

Do you love me? Then feed my sheep.

I believe when we really know how much God truly loves us, our natural response is feeding the sheep of God: nourishing them physically and spiritually; tending the lambs of God: meeting their needs, educating them, fighting for the lost, the last and the least, protecting them from all those who wish to do them harm, those wolves who often clothe themselves with righteousness, who hide under garments of “family values” or “religious freedom.”

Look at Jesus, standing there in all his glory, yet wounded and broken and rejected, standing there with the loving heart of God. Our response to this Jesus can be none other but to bring healing, reconciliation, new life, justice and hope wherever we go. Our only response should be to say to the world with our whole being: “You are loved, unreservedly, unconditionally, eternally. There is no reason to be afraid, for God loved you first. God loved you before you loved God or even knew God. In love, God created your inmost self and knit you together in your mother’s womb. And God loves you even when your rejected and crucified that love.”

However, because we are more familiar with the second love, with fragmented human love, our natural response is often to love expecting something in return, therefore we have this awful and evil tendency to judge and to discriminate.

I believe this is why we are seeing so much hate in our world today: We have forgotten the first love. I believe the church and our country is in the state that it is in today because we have taken our eyes off of the crucified, risen Lord is standing before us all, asking, “Do you love me?”

After asking three times if we know how much God love us, and after telling us how to respond three times, Jesus said: “In all truth I tell you:  When you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go.”

This is a radical response, a radical understanding of maturity, for it is the exact opposite of the world’s understanding of maturity, the exact antithesis of American values. But God’s first love is a radically different from the world’s second love and any human value.

The world says: “When you were young, you were dependent and could not go where you wanted, but when you grow old you will be able to make your own decisions, go your own way and control your own destiny.”

Jesus’ vision of maturity is the exact opposite. It is the ability and the willingness to be led to those places where you would rather not go.

Here, as he has said before, Jesus is saying that we must become child-like. We must allow someone else to fasten our belts. We must place all of our being into the hands of God and allow God to lead us even into unknown, undesirable and painful places.

Look at Jesus, standing there rejected and wounded, yet resurrected and glorified. Look at him as he appears with wounds in his glorified, resurrected body to a few friends after Easter Sunday.  Look at him. He is standing there.  Listen to him. He is asking, “Do you love me?  Do you love me?  Do you love me?

The Seal Broken

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

stone rolled away

Matthew 27:62-28:10

During our very meaningful Tenebrae service on Friday night, we listened to the voices of Good Friday. “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want, but what you want.”

“Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going.  See my betrayer is at hand.”

“The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him.”

“Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit?”

“Then all of the disciples deserted him and fled.”

“He has blasphemed!  Why do we still need witnesses? He deserves death. Then they slapped him and spat in his face.”

“You were also with Jesus, the Galilean.” “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.” “I do not know the man.”

“Certainly you are also one of them, for your accent betrays you.”

“’I do not know the man!’ And the cock crowed.”

“I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” “Judas then went out and hanged himself.”

“Are you the King of the Jews?”

“Release to us Barabbas.” “Crucify Jesus.” “Let him be crucified.”

“I am innocent of this man’s blood, see to it yourselves.”

“Hail, King of the Jews!”

“You, who would destroy the Temple and build it in three days, save yourself!”  “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” “He saved others, yet cannot save himself.”

“Eli, Eli, lema sa-bach-tha-ni? My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?”

“Command the tomb to be made secure. You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” “So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone.”

These are the voices of Good Friday: voices of betrayal; voices of denial; voices of disappointment; voices of hate; voices of cruelty; voices of finality; voices of no turning back; voices of no moving forward; voices of death. “Make the tomb as secure as you can. Seal the stone.”

And the reality is that you did not have to attend either the service on Thursday or Friday to hear these voices. For we live in a Good Friday World, don’t we?

We’ve heard these voices just this week.

Yesterday from Utah: “A woman heading to her mother’s funeral has died in a car crash.”

From Iraq on Friday: “A suicide attacker detonated an explosive belt in a park outside Baghdad on Friday, killing 41 people and wounding over 50 more.”

From Oklahoma City on Thursday: “The state medical examiner’s office said bones recovered from near Lake Stanley Draper are human.

Oklahoma City police Master Sgt. Gary Knight said police received a call Monday that bones, clothing and personal effects had been discovered near the lake.”

From North Carolina on Wednesday: “In a bill that zoomed through with head-spinning speed, lawmakers blocked cities and counties from protecting people from discrimination.”

From Brussels on Tuesday: “Two suicide bombers blew themselves up in Brussels airport, killing 11 people, and a third man detonated a suicide bomb one hour later in an underground train in central Brussels, killing 20 more.”

From Indiana on Monday: “Indiana Sheriff’s deputy shot dead. Partner seriously injured after serving search warrant.”

And from Enid this week: “I can’t believe she talks about me behind my back.”

“Why does he have to be so hateful?”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Why won’t my children come and visit me?”

“My wife is having part of her foot removed next week. We are just waiting for the doctor to call with the exact day and time.”

“Since my back surgery, I am still dealing with a lot of pain.”

“She needs a root canal. He needs braces.”

“I owe thousands in taxes this year. And I don’t know where the money is going to come from. I am already working more hours now than by body and mind can stand.”

“I’m never going to be able to forgive myself. “I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life.” “I simply can’t continue going on like this.”

“My mother really doesn’t like the nursing home. She believes we are all plotting against her. I think my father may have Alzheimer’s.”

“Her baby was born three months premature. My sister has been having chest pains. My brother’s arthritis is about to get the best of him. The doctor said my tumor is malignant and inoperable. I still can’t believe that my wife is gone. I have never felt so alone and so depressed. At times, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

These are the voices of Good Friday, and they echo throughout our world without ceasing, sometimes overwhelming us. Every time we turn around there is something else in our Good Friday world to worry about. There is no escape. It is like being entombed in sepulcher for all of eternity by a large stone that has been sealed shut by soldiers.

So, now let us hear another voice. It is a voice called Easter. It is a voice called resurrection, a voice called hope.

“As the first day of the week was dawning. . .”  (Sounds hopeful already, doesn’t it?) As a new day, a new week was dawning, was beginning anew, fresh, bright, giving a chance to the promise of hope, “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat one it.”

In our Good Friday world, oh how we need to hear this voice of Easter— this voice that says that our God who gave God’s all for us on the cross is so awesome, so good, so great, so much bigger than all of the cruelty and evil of the world, that God does not have to lift one finger, but sends an angel to break the seal that entombs all of us who are shrouded by the evil of our Good Friday world.

The Good Friday world says: “Seal it up.” Then our Easter God, without flinching a muscle, sends one meek angel to break the seal—an angel who then sits upon the stone and says the most hopeful words found in the entire Bible: “Do not be afraid; I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.”

The world says seal it up. The world says things are not going to get any better. The world says the good old days are long gone. The world says that evil will get the best of us. The world says that God is either a fairy tale, is powerless, or has taken some cosmic vacation. The world says death is final.

Then God without lifting a finger breaks the seal and says: “I am always working all things together for the good. Through the breaking of the seal, God says to us that the best days of our lives are always yet to come. Gods says, although we cannot go back to the good old days, good new days are dawning. God says that nothing in this world is final, not even death. God says I can, and I will transform all of your despair into hope, all of your defeats into victory, all of your pain into joy, and even all of your deaths into life.”

The world says: “seal it up; you will never amount to anything. You’re a loser. You are insignificant. You are worthless. You are not a good person. Nobody really cares about you. You are pitiful. No matter how hard you try, sin always has a way of getting the best of you.  Perhaps you’d be better off dead. Seal it up.”

God breaks the seal and says: “I love you and suffered for you and died for you and raised Jesus to life for you, just as you are. There is nothing you could possible do to earn my love. I will always be with you and never away from you. I will always be for you and never against you. I will always stay by your side fighting for you, doing all that I can to wring whatever good can be wrung out of all of your misery.” God says “I will give you an Easter Faith to live victoriously in your Good Friday world.”

“Through eyes and ears of Easter faith you will see my resurrecting presence all around and hear my voice everywhere. You will be able to see it in flowers and in the trees. You will read it in a card sent to you by a friend. You will experience through the smile of a child.”

You can know it through the devotion of a Sunday School teacher. You can experience it through the woman who serves meals in the soup kitchen the needy. You can experience it with the church group who visits the nursing home; see it in the one who volunteers at the hospital; through the family who gives sacrificially and faithfully to the church, through missionaries who have given their lives to serve in third world countries, through encouraging words, handshakes, hugs, through a meal prepared; a lawn mowed, a house painted, a petition signed.

You can hear it through the confessions of faith from two young men being baptized.

God says you can hear it and see it and sense it and know it through people who by my grace are living an Easter Faith in a Good Friday world. You can see it when and wherever justice finally prevails and love ultimately wins.

During this coming week, you will not have to pay close attention to continue to hear the voices of Good Friday. You will quite possibly hear them even before this Easter Sunday ends. My hope and prayer is that as people living an Easter faith, we will continue to raise our Easter voices: voices of hope; voices of justice; voices of equality; voices of peace and love; voices of life; voices of a new day dawning; voices of a tomb whose seal has been broken on this day and forevermore.

The First Easter Word

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

peace John 20:1-10, 19-21 NRSV

It is 34 degrees. Feels like 24. And it is snowing! What in the world are you doing here this morning? Why are you here so early? Do you have any idea what time it is? What is it that compelled you to set your alarm clocks before 6am, so you could get up, get dressed and drive to this place this morning?

What are you looking for here this morning? What are you hoping to find? What are you expecting to see? What do you want to hear? What is it that you need, early on this rather cool Easter Sunday morning?

Well, preacher, isn’t it obvious? We have been living in some difficult days, to say the least! We know it has only been a short time, but it seems like forever since we felt like waving palm branches, dancing in the streets, and shouting, “Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

So much has happened to us since we last felt like dancing, since we felt like celebrating anything.  We’ve endured so much, suffered so much, lost so much.

And as grief, anguish and despair consumes us these days, so does the guilt. We have made so many mistakes in life. We have disappointed so many people. We look in the mirror each morning and a betrayer and a denier looks back at us.

And not only have we disappointed many, so many have also disappointed us. We have deeply hurt by those claiming to be religious. We have been terribly wounded by those claiming to be friends, and we have been painfully rejected by those claiming to be family.

We feel forsaken: forsaken by others and even, at times, forsaken by God. And because of that, we are anxious, agitated and afraid.

So, preacher, you know what we want. You know why we are here. We are here to hear that first Easter Word.

We are here to listen to the Risen Christ as he returns to his disciples from the grave, to the very ones who betrayed, denied and abandoned him, to the very ones who had been devastated by the religious establishment, to the very ones who were so anxious, agitated and afraid that they were cowering together in an upper room behind locked doors.

We are here early this morning to hear Jesus pronounce that first Easter word, that word that we long to hear these days more than any other word: “PEACE!” “Peace be with you!”

That is why we are here! To hear that first Easter word from our Savior and Lord—the same word that was proclaimed at his birth by the angels:  “Glory to the God in the highest and on earth, peace!” –and the last word that came from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

We deniers and betrayers, we who suffer and grieve, we who are so very anxious, set our clocks early this morning so we could hear God say to us once again: “PEACE.”

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. My love for you has no end. My love for you never fails. My love does not keep an account of wrongdoing saying I love the sinner but hate the sin. It is without reservations, without conditions. My love offers a grace that is greater than all sin and a peace that surpasses understanding. Peace be with you, for you are my sons. You are my daughters. I have always loved you. I still love you. And I will love you forever. I will forgive you always.

I am making all things new. Fear not, for I am working all things together for the good. I am the resurrection and the life, and because I live you will also live. Peace be with you.

“PEACE.”  This is why you are here. This is why we are all here this morning. We have gotten up early, and we have come to church to hear that first Easter word, a word that we desperately need to hear.

And, just as we need to hear it, so do all of those, who for whatever reason, are not here this morning. It is the word that every human living in this fragmented world needs to hear from the church, and it always needs to be the very first word that they hear from church.

For as soon as Jesus pronounces that word, he says, “As the Father as sent me, so I send you.” We have been commissioned by none other than the risen Christ to share this word with others.

However, sadly, even after nearly 2000 Easters, churches all over this world have ignored this commissioning. And tragically, the very first words that many hear from the church are words that denote the exact opposite of peace.

The first words they hear from many in the church are words of judgment and condemnation. They hear loud, angry, hate-filled rants and protests. They hear words judging them as not only sinners, but as “abominations.” In the name of God, they are condemned by those who justify their hate with the same type of Christ-less scriptural interpretation that was used to support sexism, slavery and racial discrimination.

They may hear reserved words of welcome to come in and sit on a pew, but they clearly get the message right away that they are not to expect to truly become a part of the church. They are not to expect to be able to use their gifts to serve with and alongside those who have been deemed worthy for service.

The sad truth is that there are many people in this world, people in our town who are anxious, agitated and afraid. Just like us, they oftentimes feel God-forsaken. It has been forever since they have felt like dancing in the streets and waving palm branches. They have been deeply hurt by people claiming to be religious, terribly wounded by those claiming to be friends, and painfully rejected by those claiming to be family. Just like us, they look in the mirror and see only guilt and shame.

And just like us, they are yearning for the same word for which we all yearn, that very first word of Easter: PEACE.

They hunger and thirst for the same peace that caused us to set our clocks way too early this morning. And they hunger and thirst for a community of people in our world who have the audacity to truly live as followers of Christ who take the commission of their Risen Christ seriously to share this peace with all people. They are thirsting for a church that seeks to be, not an institution or club of moral and devout people with right religion, right beliefs, right color and right lifestyles, but a church that seeks to be the living embodiment of Christ in this world, serving, loving, accepting and embracing the poor, the lost, the broken, the fearful, the grieving, those riddled with guilt and shame, and those whom society has rejected as outcasts, offering them the unlimited hope, unfettered grace and unreserved love that is in that first beautiful first Easter word, PEACE.

So, let me ask you again. What in the world are you doing here this morning? Why are you here?  I hope you have come to hear the first Easter word. And I hope you have heard it: PEACE. Your sins are forgiven. You are loved. You are accepted. You are enveloped with an amazing grace.

But I also hope you are here to receive this word so you can take it from this place to share it with all people, especially with those in our world who need it the most.

And now, may the PEACE of our risen Lord, Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forevermore.

The King We Need

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent1 Comment

rolling stones

Luke 19:28-40 NRSV

Our Palm Sunday gospel lesson is a rather strange text. As Jesus instructed them to do so, the disciples borrowed a donkey, brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on it and set Jesus on top. “As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice, for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in Heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

Did you hear something strange there? For when have you ever heard the disciples of Jesus referred to as “the whole multitude of the disciples.” There were only twelve. But Luke describes them as “the whole multitude of the disciples.”

Let’s see, has there been any other time in Luke’s gospel when we have heard such language? Reminds us of another multitude, doesn’t it? The whole “multitude of the heavenly host” at the birth of Jesus, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” That sounds much like the chant of the disciples this morning, doesn’t it? I believe Luke wants to make the point that this processional of Jesus into Jerussalem is as important as the first processional of Jesus into the world. For Luke, Palm Sunday is as significant as Christmas.

 

And this is certainly not the only strange thing in this text. But by this point in Luke’s story, should we really be that surprised?  For throughout Luke something is always out of place, out of kilter, out of whack. If we remember the stories Luke has told us thus far, we would remember that the perfect neighbor is a despised Samaritan; the selfish prodigal is welcomed home with an extravagant party; the greedy publican goes home from the Temple justified; a woman who lets down her hair at the dinner table is praised; the first is last and the last is first; to save one’s life, one must lose one’s life; and now the king, and not just any king, the king of kings, the one whose birth was heralded by “a  multitude of heavenly hosts,” a theme now picked up by a multitude of disciples, enters the city riding on a donkey, and not just any donkey, a borrowed donkey.

If Jesus is a King, he is certainly unlike any king the world had ever seen: A king of poor shepherds; A king of simple fishermen; A king of dishonest tax collectors; A king of despised Samaritans; A king of harlots; A king of lepers, demoniacs, cripples, and outcasts. New Testament professor Alan Culpepper writes: “Those who followed this king were a rag tag bunch, pathetically unfit for the grand hopes that danced in their imaginations.”

 

And the cloaks thrown on the road that day were not expensive garments but tattered shawls and dusty, sweat-stained rags. Jesus was certainly no ordinary king, but a rather strange one.

The King we may want is not the king we get. But the good news is, this is the King we truly need. It is the King this broken world needs. It is the only king that can save this world. It is the only King that can give us life, true life, abundant and eternal.

Reminds me of the words of those great theologians of our time who once sang: “We can’t always get what we want, but we we try sometimes, we might just find, we get what we need.”

Jesus is the King. But as he will tell Pilate later this week, Jesus is a different kind of King, for his kingdom “is not from this world.” He adds: “If my kingdom was from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

And, if we are honest, this makes those of us living in this world very uncomfortable. But that is Jesus. He comforts the afflicted of this world and afflicts the comfortable of this world. And whether we like to admit it or not, the truth is, we have grown rather fond of the kings and kingdoms of this world. And we sometimes have difficulty accepting anything different.

We prefer the kingdoms in this world that “would be fighting” to keep Jesus “from being handed over to the Jews.”

We prefer “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”

We prefer “It’s not our job to judge the terrorists. It’s our mission to arrange the meeting.”

We prefer “the statue of Liberty…shaking her fist.”

The truth is that we prefer answering violence with more violence. We believe combating hate with more hate. We believe fighting for what we believe, even for Jesus.

We believe in coercing our convictions, imposing our opinions, forcing our beliefs, and we don’t care who it offends or even destroys in the process.

We prefer a kingdom where we say it loudly and proudly that “we eat meat; we carry guns; we say Merry Christmas and Happy Easter; we speak English and if you don’t like it, get the heck out!”

We prefer a kingdom where we do unto others as they do unto us.

We prefer a kingdom where we love only those we believe deserve our love.

We prefer a kingdom where we help only those who are willing to help themselves.

We prefer a kingdom where people put the needs of their own before the needs of a foreigner.

We prefer a kingdom where we care ourselves, while our neighbors fend for themselves.

Jesus implies to Pilate that there are two types of kings. There are the kings of this world, and then there is the king from another world. And then Jesus asks Pilate and Jesus asks you and me: Who is your king? Who do you say that I am? Am I your King? Is your king from another world or is your king from this world?

One king offers protection;

One king promises persecution, saying if you follow him, people will rise up and utter all kinds of evil against you.

One king endorses greed and validates prosperity;

One king fosters sacrifice and promotes giving it all away.

One king caters to the powerful, the wealthy and the elite;

One king blesses the weak, the poor and the marginalized.

One king accepts only people of like-mind, like-dress, like-language, and like-faith;

One king accepts all people.

One king is restrictive with forgiveness;

One king is generous with it.

One king controls by fear;

One king reigns with love.

One king leads by threat of punishment;

One king rules with the promise of grace.

One king governs by imposing;

One king leads with service.

One king throws rocks at sinners;

One king defends those caught in the very act of sinning.

One king devours the home of the widow;

One king offers her a new home.

One king turns away the refugee;

One king welcomes the refugee, for he, himself, was a refugee.

One king destroys his enemies with an iron fist;

One king dies for his enemies with outstretched arms.

For one king’s throne is made with silver and gold;

One king’s throne is made with wood and nails.

One king wears a crown of rubies and diamonds;

One king wears a crown of thorns.

 

So, of course, the powers that be, the kings of this world, will arrest this king “whose kingdom is not from this world.” Of course, they will torture this king, spit on this king, mock this king, and crucify this king—this king from a foreign realm. Of course, they will try to bury this king and seal this king’s tomb up with a stone.

But hate will not defeat this king. Bigotry will not stop this king. Religion and patriotism will not overthrow this king. This king will rise again. But not in the way the kings of this world rise. Despite the desires of his followers or the lyrics of their songs, there will be no thunder in his footsteps or lightening in his fists. There will be no plagues, fire, brimstone, or flood. There will no shock and awe or violence or riots in the streets of any kind.

For this king understands what, sadly, few since have understood, and that is:

“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder the hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that,” said the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr.

Consequently, this king will arise from the darkness of the grave, powerfully, yet unobtrusively; mightily, yet unassumingly; leaving room to recognize him or not to recognize him, leaving room to believe or to doubt, to reject him or to follow him. This king will drive out the darkness, not with more darkness, but with light. This king will drive out the hate, not with more hate, but with love.

So, how do we live in these hate-filled days of hostility, violence and riots in the streets?

Well, that all depends on who your king is.

The arrest this week of a terrorist responsible for the attacks in Paris reminded me of Antoine Leiris, who lost his wife in those attacks, who proclaimed to the world which king he chooses to serve. He shared it in beautiful tribute to his wife on Facebook, in the days after the attack, promising to not let his 17-month-old son grow up in fear of ISIS.

“You took away the life of an exceptional human being, the love of my life, the mother of my son, but you will not have my hatred…

I do not know who you are, and I do not wish to…

If this God for whom you kill so blindly has made us in His image, every bullet in the body of my wife will have been a wound in His heart…

So I will not give you the privilege of hating you. You certainly sought it, but replying to hatred with anger would be giving in to the same ignorance which made you into what you are. You want me to be frightened, that I should look into the eyes of my fellow citizens with distrust, that I sacrifice my freedom for security. You lost. I will carry on as before.”

No, it may not be what we want, but if we open our hearts and try, it is truly what we need. It is what our world needs. So let heaven and nature sing! May the whole multitude of God’s people prepare him room shouting with our words and deeds: ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Glory in the highest heaven and on earth peace!”

Spring Is in the Air

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, UncategorizedLeave a comment

lilies

“As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,
‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!’

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out’”(Luke 19:37-40).

This year, I believe what makes Holy Week special in Oklahoma is the way it corresponds with the unmistakable arrival of spring. The freezing temperatures of this Palm Sunday weekend appear to be the last gasp of winter. It is as if the entire creation is joyfully crying out with a loud voice: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Trees budding; thunder booming; flowers blooming; grass greening; lilies rising; birds singing; sun shining—our world seems to be proclaiming that death has finally been transformed into life! It is Holy Week, and spring and hope and good news is literally in the air.

As disciples of the Lord, our mission is to share this good news with all people. And if we do not do it, Jesus says that the earth itself will shout out! May the arrival of spring remind us each day of this mission.

When we see new leaves in the trees dancing in warm breezes with new life, may we be reminded to hug those experiencing grief and loss.

When we hear the thunder, may we be reminded to comfort those who are afraid.

When we see flowers opening their blossoms toward the sun, may we be reminded to offer a smile and a kind word to those who are discouraged.

When we walk on green grass, may we be reminded to welcome those who feel lost and marginalized.

When we see lilies rise from the earth, may we be reminded to stand tall for justice on the behalf of the victims of narrow-minded bigotry.

When we hear the birds singing harmoniously together, may we be reminded to worship together in community.

And when we feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, may we be reminded to always let the light of love shine brightly for all people.

Left-Handed Power

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn LentLeave a comment

okalhoma sunset

I recently had a conversation with someone who firmly believed God uses God’s power to cause tragedies in life in order to accomplish some divine purpose. The God who rules with “thunder in his footsteps” and “lightening in his fist” as the song goes, will rain down cancer, heart disease, automobile accidents, hurricanes and earthquake to accomplish the divine purpose.

For me, this represents a gross misunderstanding of the power of God. Although the Bible insists over and over that our ways are not God’s ways, we insist on equating God’s power with our concept of worldly power.

One day, a father was driving down a road with his little boy admiring a beautiful sunset. The father said to son, “And to think, God created all of this just for us to enjoy.”  The little boy responded, “And to think, God did it all with God’s left hand.”

“What do you mean, son? Where did you hear that?”

“Well, God had to use God’s left hand, because my Sunday School teacher told me that in heaven Jesus was sitting on God’s right hand.”

As they say, “out of the mouth of babes.”

The truth is, we have allowed the world to define power for us instead of allowing the Jesus we remember in this season of Lent to define such power.

To the world, power means controlling. Power means dominating.  Power means taking. Power means ruling.  Power means imposing.

However, the power of God as revealed through Jesus Christ is the exact opposite. God has what the late theologian Arthur McGill called a “peculiar” kind of power.  You could call it a “left-handed power.” It is a power of self-expending, self-giving love.

God’s power is not power that takes, but a power that gives.

God’s power is not a power that rules, but a power that serves.

Not a power that imposes, but a power that loves.

Not a power that dominates, but a power that dies.

And as McGill has written, this is the reason that it is “no accident that Jesus undertakes his mission to the poor and to the weak and not to the strong, to the dying and not to those full of life. For with these vessels of need God most decisively vindicates his peculiar kind of power, his power of service whereby the poor are fed, the sinful are forgiven, the weak are strengthened, and the dying are made alive.”

Bear Fruit or Die

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn LentLeave a comment

rose of sharon

Luke 13:1-9 NRSV

One of the great things about living in southern Louisiana were the countless stories I heard about two infamous Cajuns named Boudreaux and Thibodeaux.

Reverend Boudreaux was the part-time pastor of the Boondock Bible Church and Pastor Thibodeaux was the minister of the Backwoods Gospel Church located directly across the road. One day, they were both standing out by the road in front of their churches, each pounding a sign into the ground as fast as they could. The sign read:

Da End is Near
Turn Yo Sef ‘Roun Now
Afore It Be Too Late!

As soon as the signs got into the ground, a car passed by. Without slowing down, the driver leaned out his window and yelled as loud as he could: “You bunch of religious nuts!”

Then, from the curve in the road they heard tires screeching and a big splash.

The Reverend Boudreaux yells at Pastor Thibodeaux across the road and asks:

“Do ya tink maybe da sign should jus say ‘Bridge Out’?”

Now, because I am a seminary-educated minister that has spent the bulk of my ministry preaching from mainline, downtown pulpits, I have always sought to differentiate myself from the so-called religious nuts. The repent-or-be-sent, turn-or-burn, reach-for-the-sky-or-fry, get-saved-or-get-microwaved style of preaching has never been a part of my repertoire.

Thus, when I preach a passage of scripture like our gospel lesson this morning, I have steered away from any interpretation that sounds like what Jesus is actually saying here is: “The end is near! Ya betta turn yo sef ‘roun now! A fore it be too late!”

For example, I have used this passage as an opportunity to have a deep, theological discussion on the problem of evil. I have said that here, in this passage, we have two basic types of evil in the world. There is natural evil, and there is personal evil.

The tower of Siloam, I have said, represents natural evil. In this fragmented world, sometimes tornadoes and straight-line winds destroy property and take lives.

And the Galileans massacred by Pilate, represent personal evil. In this broken world, sometimes a broken person will grab a gun, fire shots out their car window while driving down the road, then walk into a place where he once worked and begin shooting anyone in sight.

And with Jesus’ very emphatic response, “No, I tell you!” Jesus is saying that God does not will such tragedy because of human sinfulness or any other reason. In this imperfect world, sometimes bad things happen to very good people, and there is no divine explanation or driving purpose for it.

However, maybe, to avoid sounding like a religious nut, I have actually missed the very simple point of this passage which is, “The end is near. Ya betta turn yo sef ‘roun now! A fore it be too late!”

Maybe the point that Jesus is really trying trying to make here is: “Unless you repent, you will perish.”

You have a little more time, but unless you start producing some figs, start bearing some fruit, at least start sprouting a bloom or two, you are going to die.

“But, Dr. Banks, that sounds too much like the hell, fire and brimstone sermons of those backwoods churches in the boondocks, far from the lights of downtown, and you know that we moderate, educated clergy in our mainline, sophisticated pulpits are way too smart for that.”

However, I have a feeling that through this passage Jesus is arguing that we may be too smart for our own good!

People had gathered together, and they started doing what people do best when they gather together, even in the church. They began to gossip, especially about the sinfulness of others, the sinfulness of “those” people. “Those” people who had this tower tragically collapse on top of them.

Sadly, I believe this may be the only reason some people go to church these days: to hear about the sins of all those who are not in church. It makes them feel good, religious, superior, righteous.

And Jesus is emphatic, “No, I tell you!”

It is as if he is saying: “You better stop judging your neighbors and start taking a look at yourselves. Stop worrying about the speck in your neighbor’s eye and worry more about the log in your own eye. Look, bad things happen this world. People die. It’s not a matter of degrees of rightness or wrongness, sin or sainthood. Everyone dies. And one day, you are going to die. So, you better repent. You better change. Ya better turn yo sef roun now. A fore it be too late!”

And to drive the point home, Jesus tells the story about a fruitless fig tree. And the moral of the story is simple. Bear fruit or die.

Reverend Sharron Blezard believes this text is begging the church today to ask: “What are we doing to bear fruit, to bloom where we’ve been planted?”

She says, that far too many congregations are merely existing like a barren fig tree, wasting the soil. There are no signs of any fruits, no promise of any blooms. These churches exist primarily to get together, and sadly to do what people do best: to gossip, to talk about the sinfulness of those outside the church, to lament about the moral decay of society, and to pine for the return of good old days.

And they’ve lost hope. They’ve grown too weary, too worn down, too disheartened to invest the energy, creativity, and passion to share the Good News of Jesus with a broken and hurting world. While many congregations do provide a place to take care of one another, they have no sense of mission to be the Body of Christ that is sent by God into the world bearing fruit.

She says, think of it this way: fruit always “grows outward from the plant into the light. So, too, a healthy church grows outward.”

Several years ago, my mother gave me a Rose of Sharon root. She told me to plant it, and it would grow to be one of the most beautiful plants in my yard, with its flowers blooming all summer long.

Well, although the plant grew, it did not produce a single bloom that summer. I called Mama and said, “I think you must have given me a dud.”

She said, “Oh no. It’s not a dud. It just needs a little TLC. You may need to dig around it, give it a little fertilizer. You may even need to dig it up all together and plant it in better soil. Make sure it is in soil that can soak up water and is growing in a place where it can get good light.

As always, I did what Mama told me to to do. I ended up transplanting it to a spot that had better topsoil. I kept an eye on it, watered it, cared for it, and the next year, just like mama said, it produced the most beautiful blooms all summer long.

From the short time that I have known you, it is obvious that God has given this church many good gifts. The talents and resources that are here are astounding. There is not one dud in this room. And because of that, God expects us to be fruitful with those gifts. God expects our church to bloom.

I believe Jesus is asking us to take a lesson from a barren fig tree. To bloom and bear beautiful fruit will require some work, some sacrifice. We may need to dig around, put out some fertilizer, even transplant a thing or two. It may take some cutting back, pruning, shaping and nurturing.

Yes, it is scary. It is difficult. It is risky. But, Jesus says that it is the only way to life, the only way to bear fruit that nourishes the world.

Eddie Hammett, my friend and church consultant, loves to say that Christians need to stop going to church, and start being the church.

I believe he is talking about the difference between a church that is inward focused, therefore barren, and one that is outward focused, therefore bearing fruit for the world.

Hammett says:

Going to church is routine and easy. Being church in the world is challenging, difficult and calls for prayerful intentionality. Going to church keeps us safe…. Being the church makes us uncomfortable and challenges us to learn to BE salt, light and leaven. Going to church is familiar….Being the people of God as church is unfamiliar to many and overwhelming to most. May we press on in the faith…

And as much as I may want to avoid sounding like a back woods religious nut in the boondocks and speak only articulate, sophisticated words that make us comfortable from this mainline, downtown pulpit, maybe what we really need to hear is that the time is coming, the day is approaching, as it was for that barren fig tree, there’s going to be a reckoning.

What we really need to hear is that we must bear fruit or die. What we really need to hear is: “The end is near, so ya betta turn yo sef ‘roun now! A fore it be too late!”

May we use the gifts God has given us to press on in the faith, step up and out in our discipleship, do the hard work of getting out the fertilizer and the shovel, doing some digging, getting our hands dirty to produce some figs.

May we quit worrying about empty pews and why more people are not in church these days and begin worrying about what we are doing to be good stewards of the the gifts we have been given.

In the words of Blezard: “For there’s a big world out there, a world that is thirsting and hungering for the love of God. May we go out and bloom, bearing fruit in the image of Christ” (paraphrase).

God Fights for Us – Remembering Jane Puckett

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Memorials1 Comment

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I believe this ground, this sacred place where tears have cried a river, is reminiscent of that place the Israelites found themselves in after they were liberated from Egyptian bondage.

With Pharaoh’s army advancing behind them, it was as if their whole world was suddenly crashing down upon them. Because standing before them stood what they perhaps feared the most, the Red Sea. It stood before them like the casket of a loved one for it most certainly represented the end of the line, the end of dreams, the end of hopes. For the Israelites, encamped by the sea with an army closing in behind them, the sea represented certain death.

Overcome by fear, the Israelites did not know what to do. They could not go back to the good old days, and going forward into the promise of good new days seemed impossible. Paralyzed by grief, unable to take one step forward, they did the only thing they could do. They cried out. They cried out to the Lord. They cried out to Moses. They cried out to anyone who would hear. They cried out in disbelief. They cried out in anger. They cried out in fear. They cried out in grief.

But then, the good news. Moses said to the people: “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14: 13-14).

And we know the rest of the story: The Red Sea was not the end of the line. It was not the end of their dreams. It was not the end of their hopes.

“Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and turned the sea into dry land; and the waters were divided.”

Then the same Israelites who were unable to move forward, unable to see beyond the sea, or the casket in front of them, rose up and walked into the sea of their fear as if it were dry ground. They rose up and moved forward into the future with a renewed confidence and a resurrected strength. And this is how they were able to make it to yet unimaginable promised land.

Gary, Josh, Heidi, Amy and Mike, although you cannot go back to the good old days, this is how you and your family will be able to move forward this day into unimaginable good new days. The good news is that the Lord will fight for you. And the really good news is that you only have to stand firm and keep still.

There is no other way that I can possibly explain the industrious strength and the unfailing patience of Jane Puckett. There is no other explanation for her tenacious work ethic, serving her country working for Vance Air Force Base with aircraft maintenance for 42 years. She only recently retired because her unbeknownst cancer made her work physically impossible.

And how else do you account for her courageous battle she fought once she discovered her stage-four cancer that started in her lungs but had metastasized into her brain? How do you explain someone who was as sick Jane, but never complained?

And if anyone had any reason to complain it was her. To work as hard as she did for 42 long years without the opportunity to enjoy a well-earned retirement would make even the sweetest personality bitter. The truth is: a diagnosis like Jane changes most people.

But not Jane. Jane remained firm. She was still the sweet, fun-loving person that she had always been.

The one who loved to go snow skiing in Colorado and water skiing in Canton Lake.

The one who loved to patiently cross stitch gifts for her family and friends.

The one who loved to make baby blankets that were so beautiful that the mothers who received them would hang them on the wall for all to see instead of wrapping them around their babies.

The one who never said anything negative about anyone else.

The one with terminal cancer who had every right to be jealous of those who arbitrarily live into their seventies, eighties and nineties, but still refused to join in any conversation that demeaned another.

The one refused to be bitter and impatient with anyone, including herself and God.

She was still the same firm and patient one who not only tried to make caramel once, only to have it explode sending its sticky shrapnel flying all over her kitchen, but she was the one who had the audacious forbearance to try it again, albeit with the same result.

Even with a terminal disease, she was still the same person who loved to sit on the back porch with Gary and her beloved pet Weazer enjoying a cold drink on a summer evening, thanking God for the gift of her life.

Now, some may say that her kids should probably take some credit for some of her patience and strength, for they were both known to test it a time or two or thirty. Like the time one winter Josh decided to go skiing in the back yard. However, the flat plains of Oklahoma have never been very conducive to backyard snow skiing. But Josh, being a crafty and smart kid, some would argue “perhaps a little too smart for his own good,” decided he would ski off the roof of the house.

Sitting inside, Amy was watching the snow fall out the window, when here comes Josh flying off the roof like some Nordic Olympic ski jumper. “Mama, Josh just skied off the roof!”

Amy also remembers trying her mama’s patience by doing foolish things like walking through a glass door, without first opening that door, requiring a multitude of stitches.

However, as much as these kids tried her patience and tested her strength, I still believe that her strength, her courage, and her patience, especially in the face of her illness, came from a much higher place. I believe it came from the God who continually whispered words to her throughout her living and perhaps especially in her dying. It was the same words whispered to Moses and to the Israelites when they were tested in the wilderness: “The Lord will fight for you, and all you have to do is be still.”

The good news is that her fight is now over. Jane has crossed the sea. Her enemy, her cancer, has been defeated like Pharaoh’s army. She has been led by a pillar of fire and cloud, led by the very hand of God, into a promised land.

And the good news is that as the Lord fought for her, the Lord will fight for you too, and all you have to do is be still. Be still, and then move forward, holding onto one another, holding onto the memory of Jane’s courage and strength, while holding onto the hand of God.

I want to close by reading some words that I read at my grandmother’s graveside service. She also died in her sixties with lung cancer that also had metastasized. However, because of her courage and strength, because she, like Jane, never complained, never had a bitter bone in her body, never uttered a word of malice against anyone, there was no doubt in my mind that before she died, God was there fighting with her and for her. And I knew that everything was going to be alright.  The following are those words (author unknown):

Although Cancer seems to destroy so much, when God is fighting for us, it is obvious that there are many things that cancer cannot do. Cancer, in fact, is very limited in the presence of God. [Like my grandmother, Jane Puckett was a testimony of this].

Cancer is limited.

Cancer cannot cripple love.

It cannot shatter hope.

It cannot corrode faith.

It cannot eat away peace.

It cannot destroy confidence.

It cannot kill friendship.

It cannot shut out memories.

It cannot silence courage.

It cannot invade the soul.

It cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit.

It cannot lessen the power of the resurrection.

Thanks be to God.