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
When God chose to reveal to the world God’s holy power over sin and evil, a power that is even victorious over death itself, God’s will was to come down. Because we could not ascend to God, God descended to us. God emptied God’s self, poured God’s self out, humbled God’s self to meet us where we are through a tiny baby, born down in a stable, laid down in a feeding troth for animals, and worshipped by downtrodden shepherds.
And since that night in Bethlehem, Jesus continued this downward will of God. Jesus said: “For I have come down from heaven to do the will of God who sent me…” (John 6:38).
The scriptures do say that Jesus grew upward in stature; however, we continually witnessed in him moving downwardly. We saw him continually bending himself to the ground, getting his hands dirty, to touch the places in people that most need touching.
When his uppity disciples chastised little children who needed to shape up and grow up before they could come to Jesus, Jesus argued that the Kingdom of God actually belonged to such children.
While his disciples got on their high horses and argued about who was going to move up to be first in the Kingdom, Jesus frustrated them (and if we are honest, frustrated us) by doing things like moving down to sit at the lowest seat at the table, bending down to wash their feet, stooping down to welcome little children, crouching down to forgive a sinner, reaching down to pick up the poor, lowering himself down to serve the outcast, accept the marginalized, touch the leper, heal the sick, and raise the dead.
Jesus’ ministry was continually downward. While others exercised worldly power to move up, climb up, and advance, Jesus exercised a strange and peculiar power that moved him in the opposite direction.
It is not a power that rules but a power that serves.
It is not a power that takes but a power that gives.
It is not a power instills fear but a power that imparts love.
It is not a power that condemns but a power that forgives.
It is not a power that seizes but a power that suffers.
It is not a power that dominates but is a power that dies.
This is the way of Christ. This is the peculiar, power of Christmas.
Sadly, the ones proclaiming Christmas the loudest these days, most often proclaim it up on their high horses in the most uppity of ways.
There is a Grinch lurking and working in our world seeking to steal Christmas. This Grinch is alive and real and every bit as mean and vile as that outcast of Whoville whose soul was an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable mangled up in tangled up knots. This Grinch can be found in every city, in every town, and in every rural community throughout our land. However, this Grinch is not among the usual suspects of the annually accused.
This Grinch is not Political Correctness. This Grinch is not the liberal sales clerk at Target greeting people on Christmas Eve with “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” After all, wouldn’t the God who humbly came down to be born in the unpretentiousness of a stable want us to show a little humility to a devout Jew on that holy night, which, this year, also happens to be the last night of Chanukah?
Nor do I believe this Grinch is Secularism. Santa Claus, tiny little elves, flying reindeer, Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman are a magical, wonderful part of this season that makes the eyes of children aglow. Again, I cannot imagine the Christ, Christmas Himself, calling things that bring such joy to children anything but holy and sacred.
But what about the Grinches of Consumerism, Greed and Materialism? What about the Grinch of Black Friday which is now taking over Thursday? What about the monsters of big business forcing people like my nineteen year-old son to work on Thanksgiving, preventing him from sharing a meal with his grandparents? Surely their hearts’ are nothing more than empty holes. Their brains are full of spiders, and they’ve got garlic in their souls.
They are certainly Grinchy, but as Grinchy as capitalism can be, I believe there is even a greater Grinch in our midst today, a Grinch even more nauseating and foul. There is a more crooked Grinch lurking and working in our world threatening to keep Christmas from coming.
To prepare the world for Christmas, for the coming of Christ into the world, John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. We are told that people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him to be baptized, confessing their sins.
John the Baptizer was proclaiming a baptism of repentance. The Greek word translated repent, literally means to think differently, to see things differently. It means to see the world, ourselves, and God differently. John was proclaiming the good news of Christmas. He was trying to get the people to understand and to see that God is not far away from us but is very much with us. God is not against us, but is very much for us, and God is more alive and more at work in this world than we can sometimes believe. The message of Christmas can be summed up in two beloved verses of scripture:
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him (John 3:16-17 NRSV).
And when people heard this message, they came from all over and did something that is a very difficult thing to do if you think God is against you, or you see that all of your sin and mess have separated you from God. They came from all over confessing their sins.
They came just as they were. They came openly, honestly, and transparently. They came freely, fearlessly and audaciously laying bare their imperfect souls before John, others and God. They came knowing that they would not be judged. They came seeing that they would not be condemned. They came with a new understanding that they would be accepted, a new vision that they would be forgiven. They came to be immersed in the unconditional love of God, to be enveloped by the unreserved grace of God. They came in the same spirit that lowly, sinful, shepherds came to kneel and worship before the manger. They came to the muddy banks of the Jordan River to join hands with fellow sinners and celebrate the good news of Christmas.
And ever since that Christmas was celebrated on that day through the honest confession of sin, there have been Grinches in every time in every land determined to stop it.
How does the Grinch steal Christmas? By simply deterring the confession of sins. By inhibiting such open honesty by proclaiming a message that is the exact opposite of the Christmas message.
The Christmas message is: “For God so loved the world…”
“God doesn’t love this world,” says the Grinch with a sour Grinchy frown. “God despises this world. Thus God wants people to separate themselves from this world, retreat into safe sanctuaries with the pure who don’t sin to smugly wait to one day escape to glory with kith and kin.”
“…that he gave his only Son…” says Christmas.
“God didn’t really give his Son,” the old Grinchy Claus hisses. “If God gave his Son, that would infer that salvation is free, no strings attached, no restrictions at all. “Surely,” says the Grinch “God wants people to earn this gift with right lifestyles, right beliefs, and right deeds after all.”
Christmas says: “…so that everyone who believes may not perish but have eternal life…”
The Grinch thinks up a lie and thinks it up quick: “Well, not everyone. Not the entitled. Not the undeserving. Not those who drink, party and cuss. God only helps and gives eternity to those who are willing to help themselves, those who think, look, believe and worship like us.”
The Christmas message is: “…God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world…”
“Of course God did,” the Grinch counters with a smile most unpleasant, “And God wants us to look down our noses and judge others as if they smell, point our fingers at their sins and preach about Hell.”
“….but in order that the world might be saved through him,” says Christmas.
“Not saved but destroyed,” the Grinch laughs in his throat. “Haven’t you heard of Armageddon, the Apocalypse and the Judgment Day? Why else would there be hurricanes, earthquakes, and so much AIDS and Ebola today?”
John, the one preparing the world for Christmas reveals that Christmas begins with the confessing of sin, and infers that if any Grinch wants to steal Christmas, if any Grinch wants to keep Christmas from coming, they need to merely discourage such confession.
So who is this Grinch that wants to steal Christmas?
Why, just ask yourself: Where is the one place in the world where the confession of sin is most difficult? In a bar with a total stranger? At a coffee shop with a close friend? In the work place with a co-worker? No, sadly, it can be right here, right now, in this place that claims to proclaim the true reason for the season, in this place that claims to prepare the hearts of all to receive Christmas. The place that claims to be the most Grinchless place in the world, if we are not careful, can sometimes the most Grinchy.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote about this Grinch:
Pious fellowship permits no one to be a sinner. So everyone must conceal their sin from themselves and from the fellowship. We dare not be sinners. Many Christians are unthinkably horrified when a real sinner is suddenly discovered among the righteous. So we remain alone with our sin, living in lies and hypocrisy.[i]
And Quaker Theologian Richard Foster made the following observation about this Grinch:
Confession is so difficult a discipline for us partly because we view the believing community as a fellowship of saints before we see it as a fellowship of sinners. We come to feel that everyone else has advanced so far into holiness that we are isolated and alone in our sin. We could not bear to reveal our failures and shortcomings to others. We imagine that we are the only ones who have not stepped onto the high road to heaven. . . . But if we know that the people of God are first a fellowship of sinners we are freed to hear the unconditional call of God’s love and to confess our need openly before our brothers and sisters. We know that we are not alone in our sin. The fear and pride which cling to us like barnacles cling to others also. In acts of mutual confession we release the power that heals. Our humanity is no longer denied but transformed.[ii]
I have often said that of any place on this fragmented planet, the church should be a place where all people are welcomed to join a community of grace, love and forgiveness. Without fear of being judged, condemned and ridiculed, all people should feel welcomed to come as they are and honestly and openly confess their sinfulness and brokenness. And receive grace. Receive love. Receive salvation.[iii] Receive Christmas.
So, whenever the church creates an environment that prohibits honesty, openness, and transparency; encourages people to be fake, conceal their pain, pretend to be good, upright and holy, their lives devoid of any real sin, mess or gunk; well, the three words that best describe it are as follows, and I quote, “Stink, stank, stunk.”
[i] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together:The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community, 1939.
[ii] Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline, 1978
Instead of decorating my tree this year with Christmas music playing in the background, I decorated it while watching the nightly news. As I hung ornaments, I listened to the tragic story of a high school student killed in an automobile accident. As I turned on the lights on the tree, I glanced up to see pictures of mothers with their children escaping from Syria into refugee camps in Lebanon. I saw images of many children: some starving, others injured, some dying, others sick, all very afraid. I thought to myself, “I need to turn this depressing mess off and put on something Christmasy.”
Then it occurred to me. This is probably as close to Christmasy as it gets, for this is Christmas undecorated. This is real Christmas, and it is a shame that we try to cover it up with colorful paper and tie a bow around it. We string it with lights and decorate it. We romanticize and sentimentalize the whole Christmas scene with gleeful music and cheerful food.
Perhaps it is because in our shallow minds, the scene is majestic. It is glorious: angels flying in the night sky singing a heavenly chorus; a brilliant star rising in the east; a baby worshipped by shepherds and kings and even animals. In our nativity scene, there is no crying, no hunger, no disease, no anxiety, no fear, no mourning. Our nativity is a serene, sweet, sanitized scene.
However, this was not the reality of the first Noel. Christmas reality was not beautiful and was far from perfect. And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much energy we expend or how much money we spend; we cannot conceal the real harshness of it, the harsh realness of it. Christmas reality, says the prophet Isaiah is “like, a root out of dry ground.” Jesus was born among animals in a cattle stall and placed in a feeding troth with the stench of wet straw and animal waste in the air.
Yes, Kings, Magi or Wise Men came to worship the baby, but we like to forget that King Herod was using those eastern visitors to locate the baby so he could run a sword through him. And we forget the holocaust in Ramah, the innocent babies slaughtered, the desperate cries of anguish and despair from parents because there children were “no more.” We forget the escape to Egypt like homeless refugees. This is Christmas reality.
This is the reality of it, and this is the good news of it! The good news of Christmas is that there is nothing glamorous, glitzy sentimental, or romantic about it. The good news of Christmas is that God came into our depressing mess. God came into the real world, encountered real evil in the most real of ways, experienced real suffering and pain and died a very real death.
Someone who was suffering with terminal cancer once told me: “Although I cannot explain it, somehow, the sicker I am, the more pain I experience, the more hopeful I become. In the moments of my most immense suffering, God is the most real to me.”
Through the coming of God in Christ into a very real and broken world, we know that God knows something about real human suffering and real human misery. God knows what it feels like to feel forsaken by God. God is therefore able to relate to us in the most intimate of ways in those moments when life is the most real and the most broken.
Thank God something as depressing as the nightly news can actually be Christmasy.
When does Christmas begin for you? Was it on Black Friday at the mall, or while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? Was it last Sunday morning as the first candle of Advent was lit in this place? When does it start? When do you begin to realize the good news that is Christmas? Where are you when it happens? On the Town Common during the annual Christmas tree lighting? Walking down Main Street during the Taste of Farmville? Going caroling with the children from church? Maybe it is not until Christmas Eve, as you light your candle and sing, Silent Night. Perhaps it is when you are alone at home, listening to Christmas music and decorating your own tree.
For Mark, the good news of Christmas begins in what most of us would call a strange and unexpected place. Unlike us, the good news of Christmas does not start with some warm sentimental scene. And unlike Matthew and Luke, for Mark, the good news of Christmas does not begin with heavenly visitations, choirs of angels, the worship of shepherds, a star rising in the East, or Magi bearing gifts. For Mark, Christmas does not even begin with a little baby wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.
For Mark, the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the good news of Emmanuel, God with us, the good news of Christmas, begins somewhere out in the wilderness. And he is not talking about some snow-covered winter wonderland where the Griswold’s find their family Christmas tree.
For Jewish people aware of their history, Christmas begins in that place that was experienced somewhere between slavery in Egypt and the Promised Land. Somewhere out in that place of testing, trial and temptation, somewhere out in that place of doubt, dread and despair, that place where you do not know if you want to live or die, that place with the Red Sea swelling before you and Pharaoh’s army advancing behind you. That place where Elijah fled to save his life from Jezebel’s army and then prayed for God to take his life away. That place where even Christmas himself would be haunted by wild beasts and tempted by Satan. For Mark, Christmas begins in the most strange and unexpected place, a raw, dangerous place called the wilderness.
The beginning of the good news that is Christmas occurs in that place where God seems to be against you, or appears to be so far away that you doubt God’s very existence—suffering in an intensive care unit at the hospital, laying in utter misery in a nursing home, holding the hand of a parent with Alzheimer’s, picking out a casket for a spouse in a funeral home, at home anxiously trying to pay your monthly bills, in the middle of a fight with a loved one, in Pearl Harbor 73 years ago this hour, in any place where people are overtaken by tension and terror, overwhelmed by despair and disappointment, or overcome by sin and shame.
Last weekend, I was at home trying to get my own Christmas started as I do every weekend after Thanksgiving. However, this year it began a little differently, you might say it began strangely and unexpectedly.
Instead of decorating my tree this year with Christmas music playing in the background, I decorated it while watching the local news. As I hung ornaments, I listened to the tragic story of a high school student killed in an automobile accident outside of Pinetops. As I turned on the lights of the tree, I glanced up to see pictures of mothers with their children escaping from war-torn Syria into refugee camps in Lebanon. I saw images of many children: some starving, others injured, some dying, others sick, all very afraid. I saw gruesome images of parents holding the lifeless body of their child. And I thought to myself, “I need to turn this depressing mess off and put on something a little more Christmasy.”
Then it occurred to me. This may be as close to Christmasy as it gets, for this is Christmas in the wilderness. The Good News according to Mark concurs that this is Christmas, raw Christmas. This is where Christmas truly begins. This is Christmas untamed and undecorated. For Christmas began when God came into a depressing mess.
And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much energy we expend or how much money we spend; we cannot escape the raw truth of it. Christmas begins, says Mark, with a “voice crying out in the wilderness.” And there is no music, no matter how Christmasy, that we can play loud enough to drown out this voice. There are no decorations glitzy enough and no lights bright enough to temper this voice.
This voice can be heard throughout every refugee camp in Lebanon and by every parent mourning the loss of their child. It can be heard in every intensive care unit, in every nursing home and funeral home. This voice can be heard in every wilderness, in every depressing mess on earth.
Through the good news of Christmas, God is crying out: I am for you; not against you. I am with you; not away from you. And I am more real, more alive, and more at work in this world than you can sometimes believe. As the prophet Isaiah said: “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (Isa 43:19).
The good news is: Christmas does not begin with us. It does not begin when we get the house all decorated or get all of our shopping done. We do not have to host a Christmas party or even go to one. We don’t even have to go to church, light a candle or sing a carol. Christmas begins with God and with a voice crying out in the wilderness, in those places where we may least expect it, but need it the most.
Some of us know that Luke tells his beloved Christmas story in chapter 2 of his gospel. However, I believe he perhaps tells it more poignantly in chapter 10.
A man was traveling down a wilderness road that was so dangerous that it was sometimes called “the way of blood” or “the bloody pass.” And there out in the wilderness, the man fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, leaving him half dead on the side of the road. As the man lay on the roadside, somewhere between Jerusalem and Jericho, somewhere between life and death, wanting to live, but also maybe wanting to die, he is ignored by two religious leaders who are also traveling down the same road.
God only knows why these men who you would expect to stop and help ignored the man. Perhaps they thought the robbers were still nearby, or maybe they thought the man lying on ground was only pretending, playing some sort of trick, so that when they came near him, he would beat and rob them. For whatever reason, they believed it was much too risky for them to stop.
Then came this one, Luke calls him a Samaritan, which means this was someone who was despised and rejected by the religious establishment, someone who was often misunderstood and rarely respected, someone who knew something about pain and brokenness, betrayal and abandonment, God-forsakenness; someone who had spent many days and nights in the wilderness himself, tempted and tried.
This one who was the least expected to stop and help, saw the man. He saw the man’s wounds, saw the man’s fear, saw the man’s despair and was moved with mercy and compassion. And there in the wilderness he risked his own life, as he sacrificially came to him, selflessly bent himself down to the ground, and joined the man.
The man did not have to do anything to make this one come to him. Out of pure love, unconditional and unreserved, this one just came. He then touched the man where the man most needed touching, pouring oil and wine on the man’s wounds and bandaging them. He then picked the man up and safely carried him out of the wilderness. He stayed with him, at his side through the darkness of the night. When morning came, he paid for the man’s debts, and made the promise: “I will come back. I will return.”
Of course, we call this “The Story of the Good Samaritan.” However, I believe it should be called, “The Story of Christmas.” A story that begins with a voice of mercy and compassion crying out in the wilderness, in those strange, dangerous places where we least expect it, but most need it.
Hospice caregivers will often speak of a dying person “rallying” for a brief time right before death. A person who has been non-responsive will begin to talk. One who has been confused or disoriented will become suddenly coherent. And those who have not had any food for sometimes days may request something to eat or drink. As a pastor, I have seen this “rally” more times than I can possibly count. I am not sure exactly why it happens; I just know that it happens, and it happens often.
My faith tells me that it is Christmas. It is God seeing one lying in the wilderness in their weakest, most broken state, seeing one in their most desperate, most vulnerable need, and it is God being moved with mercy and compassion for that one. It is a voice crying out from the heavens into the wilderness: “I am for you, not against you, I am with you, not away from you. I am Emmanuel. I will risk my own life for you. I will give my all to take care of your wounds and to pick you up, to forgive all of your debts. And when you are ready, I will come back, and I will take you unto myself, so that where I am, you will also be.”
The good news for us this day is that Christmas comes to us all when we confess that we are all half dead, lying on some wilderness road east of Eden, beaten up so badly by this sinful world that no one can tell whether we are Jew or Gentile, male or female, black or white, slave or free.[i] Whenever we confess our brokenness, our sinfulness, and our need for a Savior, a voice from heaven cries out in our wilderness and Christmas comes. Christmas always comes.
When does Christmas begin for you? When does it start? Where are you when you begin to realize the good news that is Christmas? The good news, according to Mark, is that Christmas begins when and where you may least expect it, but need it the most.
[i] This sentence is adapted from words spoken by Frank Tupper in one of my theology classes at Southern Seminary, Louisville, Kentucky, 1989-1992.
Anthony Reiff, 14, a freshman at Farmville Central, gave the following testimony during the Hanging of the Green Service at First Christian Church on November 30, 2014
Life hands you problems that you will have to deal with. These problems can cause mental and physical wounds. Some wounds are greater than others. I personally have more wounds than an average teenager. They are what make me who I am.
These wounds can make me weak. People will try to get my head and use my wounds to hurt me more. I will always have opponents who will try to take me down because of my wounds.
But these wounds can also make me stronger. If I give my life to Jesus, who was also wounded, he can take my wounds and make me stronger. Jesus also had people who tried to get in his head and hurt him more. Jesus had people who tried to take him down. But Jesus used those wounds to save the world, and to save me.
I look at it this way. Jesus, through the church, is training me to rise up against all of my troubles and never be defeated. Jesus is always in my corner.
Therefore, when people try to tell me that I am worthless, that I have no purpose, I am confident that God has given me a purpose. God has given you a purpose to be here on this earth too. You may not know what your purpose is but trust me, you will.
So, for all of you who are having problems, go home, look in a mirror and say, “I am a champion.” Because you are. You are a champion. Because God is always in your corner.
Chester never did care too much for funerals. If he had it his way, we probably would not here this day. Yet, I am sure he knew that, unless he outlived all of us, there would be a service.
“Well, if you’ve got to have a service,” I can almost hear Chester say, with a slight grimace, “at least make it a celebration. Play and sing music that is uplifting. Say things that are hopeful. Be joyful.”
Chester certainly did not want this day to be a day of sadness, of mourning, but a day of gladness, of rejoicing. Instead of a sorrowful, solemn sermon, he would want me to preach a happy, hopeful one, to even tell a joke or two, assuring his friends and family that everything is going to be alright.
“Jarrett,” I can hear him say, “Just tell people: don’t worry. Sing a happy song. If anybody ask where I’m at, just tell them I’ve gone fishing. Just tell them I’ve gone fishing with Daddy and Mama on that beautiful shore in the sweet bye and bye. So, Jarrett, if you have to have a funeral, and as much as I despise a funeral I know you have to, please do me a favor and make it a celebration. And please, do everyone a favor, and try to keep it short.”
“Well, Chester, my good friend, that is much easier said than done.
Because, Chester, you just left us so suddenly. None of us were prepared for it. We are having a hard time accepting it. One minute you’re at the Country Club telling jokes about Obama and the next minute you’re gone. Even now, three days later, it seems more like some strange nightmare from which we cannot wake than it does the reality that we must accept.
And the timing of it, during the start of the holidays, seems to make it even more tragic. As I was sitting with Ben at the hospital, he painfully reminded me that this Thanksgiving was Mernie’s and your 45th wedding anniversary. So Chester, please forgive us if we are somewhat slow and even reluctant to celebrate this day.”
And of course, this day is especially sad because we loved Chester so. And he loved us.
I know I am speaking for more than just me when I say that Chester loved me like I was family. I felt I could go to Chester for any kind of advice, from fishing, golf to finances. It was eight years ago that Chester taught me how to fry my first turkey for Thanksgiving. After I rubbed the bird down and injected it per Chester’s precise instructions, Chester made me come to his house to fry it, so he could supervise and prevent me from blowing myself up.
This is a difficult day, for how many of us here will not miss the way Chester loved us with his wonderful, yet peculiar sense of humor.
One day, he and Ben were fishing for trout off the train trestle in Beaufort. While they were fishing, one of his shoes got caught on the trestle, slipped off and fell in the inlet and was immediately swept away by the current. After a great day of fishing, a man noticed Ben and Chester walking off the trestle, Chester limping a bit, wearing just one shoe. The man asked, “Did you lose your shoe?” Chester said: “No, I found one.”
Yes, today is a sad day as we will miss his quick wit, his funny stories and his dry sarcasm. We will miss all the ways he made us smile, by playing a prank or by cooking us a meal.
This day is especially difficult for his family as Chester loved planning and cooking a meal, especially for a family gathering such as Thanksgiving. All who knew Chester knew that his family meant everything to him: his sister Niki and Eddie; his niece Lou, Tim and great nephew Nick; his daughter Emily, her fiancé Joey, his son Ben and Beth; his adopted grandchildren whom he loved as if they were his own blood, Hunter and Landon, his grandchildren Haley, and Jamison; and his wife of 45 years Mernie.
More than anything, Chester wanted all of you to be happy and fulfilled. For when you hurt, he hurt. When you were not satisfied, he was not satisfied. Although he had spent much putting Ben through school to go into law enforcement, he did not get upset when Ben changed his mind. As tight as Chester was, he never showed any disappointment. On the contrary, Chester encouraged Ben to do what was going to make him happy.
While her friends were critical of Emily’s selfless career choice to be a teacher in North Carolina, saying that she was never going to make any money, Chester encouraged Emily to follow her heart and do what was going to give her the greatest fulfillment. As much as he believed in the importance of making enough money to save some for a rainy day, he never complained that Emily did not have a more lucrative career.
And Mernie, for 45 years, Chester loved you, and although there were times you spent more money than he liked for you to, he would do anything he could do to provide for you, to care for you, to make you comfortable, to make you happy. It grieved him to watch you suffer as you have this past year.
And along with his family, this whole community is saddened this day, as Chester sacrificially protected us and our country when he was younger serving in the National Guard. Chester made this a better place to live as he gave himself in his retirement to the country club, and he as gave himself throughout his life to the service of this church as a faithful usher. He was a friend and encourager to so many, always doing all he could do to make us smile, bring us happiness.
So to transform this sad day into day of gladness, this day of sorrow into a day of rejoicing and celebration, is much easier said than done.
But this is what our faith in God is all about. Throughout history, God has always been in the business of transforming: transforming defeat into victory, despair into hope, and sorrow into joy. The cross of our Lord is just one example of this great truth.
In the wonderful little book of Esther, we are told about the Persian Empire’s plot to destroy the Jewish people. Under Queen Esther’s leadership, the Persians are defeated and Israel was saved. Mordecai, who had adopted Esther, and raised her as if she was his own blood, decreed that the days had been transformed “from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness…”
Days of sorrow transformed into gladness. Days of mourning transformed into a holiday. Days of grief transformed into days of feasting and gladness. This is exactly what Chester Outland Jr. would want this day and in these days to come.
But, again, that seems easier said than done. It was just all so sudden. We have all lost so much. And right at Thanksgiving.
Again, I can almost hear Chester’s voice: “Well, that’s the whole reason you should be celebrating.”
“Yes, it was sudden,” I can hear Chester say, “But who on earth has ever said: ‘When it is my time to go, I hope it is slow and drawn out.’ Especially after watching my daddy suffer the way he did after his stroke. I have often said, ‘When it is my time, I hope it is sudden and fast.’ And I hope to be doing something that I love. I hope to be out there giving myself to something like the country club. I hope to be doing physically well enough to play golf if it’s not raining. Right before I go, I hope to feel good enough to tell one last joke about Obama.
And yes, you have lost much, for God had certainly blessed by life with much. God has blessed me in my life with good health, the ability to do what I loved, the opportunity to play golf and go fishing. God blessed me with great friends and a wonderful family. Yes, like all families, we have had some tough times, but I was able to see us through them. Ben and Emily have jobs that they love. Emily is happy again as Joey has come into her life. I have been able to be there for my grandkids, all of them. I have been able to show them that I love each one of them the same. And how many people can say that they have been happily married for 45 years to the same person?
And the timing? Although I missed cooking for my family, if I had to go sometime, (and we are going some time) I can think of no better time for me to go than this week of Thanksgiving. For I left this world grateful, grateful for the life that God had given me, grateful for my family, grateful for the life that I was given, grateful that in the end I did not suffer.
So, please be grateful with me, celebrate with me, rejoice with me, give thanks with me and trust God to do what God has done throughout history and take these days of sorrow and transform them into days gladness, take these days of mourning and make them into a holiday, take these days of grief and make them days of feasting and gladness. Prepare feasts for your loved ones, the way that I taught you. Love each other, the way I loved you. The way our Lord taught us to love. Make one another laugh. Make someone happy. And when you do, think of me, and be thankful.”
When Jesus was preparing his friends and family for his death, he spoke these beautiful words which were recorded by John:
Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn…you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy. When a woman is in labor, she has pain…But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.
Just as Chester wanted, I believe our days of sadness will be transformed into days of gladness when, instead of being bitter for what we lost, we become grateful for what we had. These days of mourning will once more become holidays. However, that is not saying that we will not continue to have pain. Even when our hearts are bursting with gratitude, even we are the most thankful for what we had in a friend, a brother, a uncle, a father, a grandfather, and a husband, we will continue to have some pain. However, Jesus promises that all of our pain will one day be transformed into joy.
As a mother forgets her pain during labor when she holds her baby, Jesus says that when we see Chester again, when we see our Lord, all of the pain that we have this day and in the days to come will be transformed into joy.
So, for those of us with faith in Christ, this is a day of gladness and rejoicing. This is a day of celebration. This is a day of hope. And if we listen, we can almost hear Chester say:
“I am with Mama, and I am with Daddy. I am with my Lord. Tell people: don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright. Sing a happy song. If people ask where I’m at, just tell them: I’ve gone fishing.”
Christians claim to have an “incarnational faith.” That means we believe we have seen God, and we have beheld God’s glory. We believe the Word became fleshed and walked among us. Christians claim to know hope, peace, joy and love, because Christians claim to know the God who became enfleshed in the body of Jesus of Nazareth to give us those things. This is what Christmas is all about. And this is what Church is all about.
The Church is called to be the body of Christ, the very embodiment of Jesus Christ in this world. We are called to not only share the good news of Christmas with others, but we are called to be Christmas to others. We are called to be hope, peace, joy and love to a world that desperately needs it.
We reaffirm this calling each time we share the bread and the cup of Holy Communion. In consuming the body and blood of Christ, we reaffirm that we are Christ’s body and Christ’s blood in this world. We remind ourselves that we are the manifestation of God in the world. We commit ourselves to being the enfleshed presence of God in this world. We dedicate ourselves to being Christmas.
Thus, these are the questions that I believe every church needs to continually ask: When people encounter our church, do they encounter God? Do they encounter the embodiment of Jesus Christ?
When people hear us, do they hear hope? Or do they hear despair?
When people see us, do they see peace? Or do they see conflict?
When people come near us, do they sense joy? Or do they sense fear?
When people touch us, do they feel loved? Or do they feel judged?
When people meet us, do they meet God? Do they meet the Christ? And do they want to join us in being Christ to others?
When people encounter us, do they encounter Christmas?
There are few things in this world worse than bumper-sticker theology. It is amazing that people try to limit something as far-reaching as faith in the God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ into a few pithy words to slap on the back of a vehicle.
“Jesus is my co-pilot.” If Jesus is merely your co-pilot, I suggest you switch seats. Jesus wants to be your pilot. Jesus wants to be the one who makes the decisions, charts the course, and steers the ship. As Carrie Underwood sings, it is Jesus who needs to “take the wheel.”
“Honk if you love Jesus.” Please don’t do that. The world does not need any more people tooting their own horns. The world needs less noise and more action. If you really love Jesus, do the things that Jesus did. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, love the outcast, visit the imprisoned, welcome the stranger, defend and forgive the sinner, care for the dying and be a friend to the lonely.
“Got Jesus?” That is such a silly question. For Jesus cannot be “got.” It is Jesus who wants to get you. He wants to get you to deny yourself, pick up a cross and follow him. You don’t get Jesus to meet your needs or to fulfill your desires. Jesus wants to get a hold of your needs and rearrange them, get a hold of your desires and transform them. You don’t get Jesus as some sort of ticket to heaven. Jesus wants to get you to bring heaven to earth.
“Jesus is the reason for the season.” Isn’t Jesus reason for all of the seasons? Jesus wants to be the Lord over every season, every month, and every day. Jesus wants to be the reason you get up out of the bed every morning.
“Keep Christ in ‘Christmas.’” Why don’t you first try to keep Christ in “Christian?” The reason so many people are turned off by Christians today is because many Christians act nothing like the Christ they claim to worship and serve.
With our bumper stickers on the back of our vehicles, we look like pompous people who are trying to arrogantly impress others who follow us, instead of a humble people who are trying to selflessly love others as we follow Jesus.
The Apostle Paul admonishes us to “rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thes. 5:16-18).
When life is good to us, it is easy to be thankful. We are thankful for the beauty of each day. We give thanks for the splendor of autumn and for the crispness in the air. We are thankful for cold mornings, the warmth of the sun at noon and for the brightness of the moon at night. We are even thankful for the more simple things in life: the excitement of football games, for warm cookies and cold milk and sweet potato pie, for movie theaters, for popcorn, for restaurants, for the pleasure received from Christmas shopping and for the brilliance of Christmas lights. When life is good, when life is happy, it is very easy to give thanks.
However, when life is cruel, and when life is miserable, thankfulness is something that comes hard. Autumn appears drab. The air seems stifling. Cold mornings only symbolize the frigid callousness of living. The sun is an annoying glare. The moon is irrelevant. Football and basketball games become pointless. Cookies and milk and pie are petty.
When your child is in the hospital, when your mother has just been buried, when your spouse is undergoing surgery, when you hear words from the doctor like cancer and Alzheimer’s— restaurants become mundane, movie theaters and popcorn are trivial. When you are laid off from work, when you are behind on your mortgage, when you are struggling to just buy groceries—Christmas shopping becomes oppressive and Christmas lights appear dismal.
So, how in the world are we ever to do the will of God by rejoicing always and giving thanks in all circumstances?
In Philippians 1, we read how Paul himself did it during his imprisonment. Alone in a dark, dank prison cell, with being beheaded as his apparent destiny, Paul rejoiced. But, notice that Paul did not rejoice or give thanks for being restrained in a prison. Paul did not give thanks for the morning or the air. Paul did not thank God for the sun, moon or stars. He did not rejoice for flowers or trees or cookies or milk or pie. Paul gave thanks and rejoiced in the only thing that he had left in that dark, clammy jail cell. Paul gave thanks and rejoiced for hope. Paul hoped that the gospel would be spread with even greater boldness because of his imprisonment. Paul hoped that through prayers, the Spirit of Jesus Christ would work out all things for the good. Paul hoped that God would wring whatever good could be wrung out of this, his most difficult hour.
Hope was the only thing that Paul had left. And hope was enough. Hope was all that Paul needed to give thanks and to rejoice in his miserable circumstance. The good news is: for persons with faith in Jesus Christ, who offers us a living hope, who promises to always be with us for our deliverance, whatever our circumstances may be, who promises us a new life even when our old lives end— thankfulness can be something that comes easy.
We may not be experiencing happiness. We may not be able to develop an extensive list of things in which we are thankful. But, on the list of every believer, even if there is only one thing, there is hope. Life can take away much and destroy much in our lives. But, there is no thing and no one that can take away our hope. And, hope is always enough. So, rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Amen.
I believe we can learn a great deal from remembering that Luke’s story about Jesus and these two women took place in the first century. A Jewish woman named Martha invites a well-known Jewish Rabbi into her home. His name was Jesus. Apparently, Martha and her sister Mary were both single women living together—living in a time and place where single women have little or no societal worth. The mere fact that Jesus would even accept such an invitation would raise more than an eyebrow or two in this day and age.
Immediately, Mary, has the courage, or you might say the audacity, to sit down at the feet of this rabbi named Jesus to listen to what he had to say. Now, remember, this is not storytelling hour at your local library where little children and parents sit down on the floor to hear a fairytale or two. In this time period, only disciples were permitted to sit at the feet of a Jewish Rabbi. And disciples were always, always male.
So not only does Jesus elevate the status of women by accepting the invitation to enter the home of these two single women, he affirms their equality with men by allowing Mary to sit at his feet and listen to his teachings, making her one of his disciples.
This is one of the reasons I am honored to serve with this church. For in this church, there is absolutely no distinction between male and female, but all are one in Christ Jesus. Here, women teach, pray, serve communion, read scripture, lead ministry teams, are ordained to ministry, and preach from this pulpit.
And in our church, the worth of the woman has absolutely nothing to do with any man that they may or may not be married to. Here we believe all people are worthy because God created them, God loves them and God in Christ challenged and defied first century societal norms when he encountered them.
Luke also tells us that while Mary was listening to Jesus, Martha was busy, assumedly preparing dinner in the kitchen for their house guest. Luke says: “Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But [but, such a powerful word, but] Martha was distracted by her many tasks.”
Of course she was distracted by many things. Remember this was the first century, and there was a lot to distract a woman, especially in an ancient kitchen without all of the modern conveniences that make our lives so much easier, so much simpler so much less distractible. Because here and now, twenty centuries later, modern technology enables us to live free from all of those distractions…hold on. My phone is buzzing. I need to respond to this text. Sorry about that. Oh, just got an email.
Like I was saying, thank God life today is void of first century distractions. Would you look a there, it is going to be 74 tomorrow with thunderstorms and 22 degrees Tuesday night! Oh, and would you look at that. My new profile pic with Betty Lacoste has well over 50 likes now.
Luke says: “Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted.”
Can you relate?
Life is full of distractions, perhaps more today than ever. Today we have on our very person all kinds of distractions as we carry not only our phones around with us, but our mail, our cameras and photo albums, our news and weather, our newspapers and magazines, and even our television and entertainment.
This past week, I had a wonderful opportunity to go to Christmount, a Disciples of Christ retreat and conference center up in Black Mountain. It was especially wonderful for me as it gave me the opportunity to get away, to sit down and to listen with very few distractions.
It was good, for just a few days, to get away from all of the busyness of life, even the busyness of this our church, to sit down and just listen.
But that’s the one thing I love about this church: our busyness. Do you remember last year someone telling me that we had so much going on here, had so much on our church sign one time, that they had to pull over to read it. I said: “We have far too much going on here for twenty miles an hour!”
And I am proud of that. I am proud of you because like Jesus going into the house of two single women, this church has people talking. Everywhere I go in this town, I hear people talk about our extravagant hospitality and gracious welcome. And I hear people talk about how incredibly busy we are.
They say, “Jarrett, every time I ride by the Christian Church there are cars everywhere! I drive by sometimes at six in the morning and the parking lot is full of cars!” What in the world is going on over there?”
I say, “It is something going on all the time! We sometimes have people drive from Wilson and Greenville to run with our running group early on Sunday mornings. There are people working on our basement, our windows and our bricks. Before it got cold, you probably saw people working or picking vegetables in our community garden. We had a great Consecration Sunday which led to increasing our budget for 2015 over 25 percent. We had around 250 people attend Homecoming, and maybe twice that many to attend our Halloween festivities. New people are volunteering to serve meals on wheels, work in the soup kitchen and serve with Farmville Benevolent Ministries. The Quilters have been busy making quilts for people in the community who need our prayers. We have groups going to the Nursing home to sing and to lead devotions. Several of us just got back from West Virginia repairing the homes of folks living in extreme poverty. We just had a huge yard sale and dinner auction where we raised over 15,000 dollars so we can do more missions. We have started planning our Advent and Christmas activities, getting ready to once more host the Breakfast with Santa before the Christmas parade. We are collecting she box Christmas gifts for Samaritans’ Purse and coupon receipts to feed families during the holidays. And just this morning, at the Christian Men’s Fellowship breakfast, we talked about building a handicap ramp for someone in need in Farmville.”
“Jarrett, don’t you think you all are doing too much?” they say.
“Nooooooo,” I say, we believe Jesus is always telling us to go and to do. After he preached his first sermon on the mount, he said, “Blessed are those who hear these words of mine and does them, for they are like wise ones who build their house on the rock.”
“After Jesus told the parable of the good Samaritan, who stopped and extravagantly helped the man he found wounded lying in a ditch, Jesus said, ‘Go and do likewise.’”
After Jesus broke the bread, representing his broken body, after he shared the cup, representing his life outpoured, Jesus said, do this in remembrance of me. And when Jesus said ‘do this,’ we don’t believe he was only talking about observing the Lord’s Supper, we believe he was calling us to sacrificially break our bodies, calling us to selflessly pour ourselves out. And each Sunday we gather together to worship, we remind ourselves of this. So we are a church that goes, and we are a church that does.
Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things;there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.
I believe Jesus is saying that in all of our 21st century busyness, with all our email and texting and skyping, facebooking, and googling, with all of our running around, even with all of our ministry, our service, there are times when we need to slow down, stop, sit down at the feet of Jesus and listen.
Now, Martha was not doing anything wrong. She was doing what she was taught to do as a faithful Jew, serving the guest who had come into her home. She was practicing the hospitality that was taught over and over in her Bible. She was doing ministry. But Jesus suggests, it may do her more good to slow down, to stop and to listen.
I believe we do so many things well here because we have been doing them for years. Sometimes we don’t even need to think about it. And to be honest, we are sometimes tempted to believe we don’t need to pray about it. We just come, go to work, do what we need to do, and it gets done. And it gets done very well.
But what would happen if we stopped, sat down, and listened to Jesus. Listen, in the silence.
Silence
What is the Christ is calling you to do.
Silence
Who is the Christ calling you to be?
Silence
Where is the Christ calling you to go?
Silence
To whom is the Christ calling you to see today, to care for today, to love today?
Silence
Listen to the Christ. What is God calling our church to do? Who is God calling our church to be? Where is God calling our church to go?
When God chose to reveal to the world God’s holy power over sin and evil, a power that is even victorious over death itself, God’s will was to come down. Because we could not ascend to God, God descended to us. God emptied God’s self, poured God’s self out, humbled God’s self to meet us where we are through a tiny baby, born down in a stable, laid down in a feeding troth for animals, and worshipped by downtrodden shepherds.
Funeral Service for Hubert Chester Outland, Jr. 
Just Love 