Happy Birthday, Carson! Ah, 19

Carson
Carson with his sister, Sara

My son Carson, who many say favors me, turns 19 today. Ah, 19.

I do see myself in him in a few ways: in his smile, in some of his mannerisms, in his creativity, and in his public speaking.

Then he possesses many traits that I can only pray to God to one day obtain: an unwavering confidence, uncompromised ethics and a maturity that does not match his age. Maybe those traits came from his mother!

And then there are those attributes that I can only envy. After all, he is 19. His entire life is before him. There is so much hope and promise. A clean slate of adulthood awaits him. He has yet to burn a bridge, amass debts, disappoint loved ones and make costly mistakes.

Ah, 19. If I only knew then what I know now. If I could only go back. Do some things over. Make some different choices.

When Jesus suggested to Nicodemus that he could be born anew, Nicodemus asked if he could physically go back. Although he was being sarcastic, perhaps he was thinking about being 19 again.

Jesus responded by saying something like: “If you are born of the Spirit, the Spirit will make you anew in ways that you’ve never imagined!”  John 3:1-10 NRSV

Nicodemus could not physically go back, but he could spiritually go forward, anew, enveloped in grace.

With faith in this Spirit, maybe I favor my 19-year-old son more than I thought. With faith, perhaps we all do.

Snowflakes from Heaven

snow-covered-road

J.B. Priestley once wrote: “The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?”

Yesterday, Stantonsburg Road was littered with empty Natural Light cans, leftover trash from Bojangles and McDonalds, and the carcass of a possum or two. This morning it is a majestic, untarnished pathway through a winter wonderland.

Yesterday, my lawn was brown, covered with ugly winter weeds and strewn with fallen tree limbs and dog droppings that I have been too lazy to pick up.  This morning it is glistening white, void of a single blemish.

Yesterday, the flaws and faults of this fragmented world were all too apparent. This morning everything seems to be forgiven, blanketed by grace. And although this world is still a very dangerous place to drive and to even walk; this morning, the hopeful wonder and potential beauty of this world is obvious.

Yesterday, my excited facebook friends posted prayers for snowflakes to fall, believing that they somehow come from heaven. This morning there is no doubt that heaven is exactly where they come from.

Why Should I Join a Church?

why-join-a-church

To entice people to join the church, I once heard a minister tell a group of prospects that members of the church enjoy special member “benefits.” For example, he said: “You have the benefit of a pastor to visit you or pray for you when you are sick or hospitalized.  You have the benefit of programs that are designed to meet the needs of you and your family. And you have the privilege to use the church’s facilities for weddings or funerals without a fee.”

However, I do not believe this is what Jesus ever intended the church to be. Church membership is not like an American Express Card membership, a Sam’s Club, a country club or gym membership where membership has its privileges. The gospel truth is that it is quite the opposite.

Church is not some place to come and receive, but is a dynamic opportunity to go and to give. Church is a chance to fulfill the greatest commandment of Jesus to love God and our neighbors as ourselves.  Church is an occasion to deny and lose one’s self in sacrificial service to others. The purpose of church is not to meet your needs, but to transform your needs.

And the gospel truth is that church membership will not eliminate fees. On the contrary, church membership, if it is about following Jesus, will cost you dearly.

When Life Kicks You, Let It Kick You Forward

Mary Scott (right)
Mary Scott (right) with Julie Warren

Former North Carolina State Women’s Basketball Coach, Kay Yow, who passed away on January 24, 2009 after a courageous battle with breast cancer once said, “I felt like I had zero control over getting cancer, but I have 100% control of how I will respond to getting cancer.” She then said something that was absolutely inspiring: “When life kicks you, let it kick you forward!”

These words became even more magnificent to me this morning after running with my dear friend, and breast-cancer survivor, Mary Scott. Today, January 23, 2014, marked the two-year anniversary of her last radiation treatment. We ran five miles at 5:30 am before she put on her US Army fatigues and combat boots and drove to her National Guard post in Raleigh. It was 14 degrees. Mary has run every day since Thanksgiving, including a day that she had a surgical procedure to remove a suspicious lump that, thankfully, turned out to be benign. That is fifty-seven days straight totaling 200.5 miles.

In Mary’s determination and perseverance, I can hear the voice of Kay Yow: “When life kicks you, let it kick you forward!”

Old Testament professor, Walter Brueggemann, once put it this way, “In life, we can never go back to the ‘good-old days,’ but with faith in Christ we can go forward with God into ‘good-new days.’”  The Apostle Paul said it like this: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God.”

Five years ago, Kay Yow died. However, the way she courageously lived out her life, and the way people like Mary Scott continue to press forward today, rekindles a great hope within our souls. A hope burns eternally, as we begin to know that we can and will always go forward, even when our very life is one day kicked out of us.

As I think about running with Mary, I am reminded of something Bernice Chambers once said about cancer:

Cancer is so limited.

It 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.

t cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit.

It cannot lessen the power of the resurrection. Amen.

When life kicks you, let it kick you forward.” With faith in the God who makes all things new, it might be easier than you think.

A Personal Thought on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

martin-luther-king-on-pulpit-robert-casillaWhen I moved to southern Louisiana to preach the gospel, my church had a policy to close the church office on Fat Tuesday (the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday), but not on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I immediately changed the holiday policy stating: “I believe that churches should especially honor the MLK holiday. After all, he was a preacher who was martyred for preaching the gospel of Jesus!”

So, for me, today is a day to remember not only the sermons of Martin Luther King, Jr., but to also reexamine my own preaching, or lack thereof.

I have always believed that there is a lot of correlation between what happened in Memphis in 1968 and what happened in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago. I truly believe that if you love all people, and live your life trying to convince others to love all people, then there will always be some people, probably religious, who will want to kill you.

Today, I am reminded that if my preaching does not take grave risks by offending and outraging those who do not believe that God’s love expands past the lines of race, class, religion, nationality and sexual orientation, then I am not preaching the gospel of Jesus.

It’s Time to Get Personal

adam

Isaiah 49:1-7 NRSV

1 Corinthians 1:1-9 NRSV

John 1:29-42 NRSV

The season of Epiphany is the time the church traditionally talks about the revelation of God to all of humanity.

It is the time to ask some of the most difficult questions of our faith. Who or what is God? What is God like? What does God feel? What does God want? How does God relate to and interact with us and the world? How does God reveal God’s self to us?

These are very difficult questions, because with our mortal minds, I do not believe we can ever answer them completely. And as I said last week, I am okay with that. In the words of Fosdick: “I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.” I am very comfortable living, as the Apostle Paul wrote, in a world where I “see through a glass dimly” (1 Cor 13).

I love the way we begin each service with the Lord’s Prayer praying, “Hallowed be Thy name.” For the name of God is so above our mortal comprehension it always evokes reverence, awe, and respect.

And I believe that one of the problems with religion these days is that, for many in the church, there is no mystery. Too many people have the world and have God all figured out. They are know-it-alls and listen to a sermon or attend a Bible Study not to learn anything new, not to be challenged, but to have what they already know reaffirmed. They have all of the answers and never have any doubts.

A parishioner came to see me one day almost in tears. She was so upset that she was shaking. A friend of hers was dying. She said that she was not sure about her friend’s faith so she asked her: “Without any doubt, do you know that if you died today that you would spend eternity in heaven?”

Has anyone ever asked you that before?

The dying woman responded, “I hope so.”

Well, that response tore her friend completely out of her frame!  For she wanted her to respond: “Yes! No doubt about it, I know! I know unequivocally, for absolute certainty!”

But her friend’s response did not sound that troubling to me. She may not have responded with absolute certainty, but it sounded to me as if she had faith.  She hoped. She believed. She trusted.

To be honest, I tend to get along better with people who are honest enough to admit that they sometimes have their doubts; that they do not always know absolutely. And I am often wary of those who have no doubts whatsoever, because it has been my experience that those are the ones who are the quickest to judge and are the first to belittle, even condemn, others who hold different beliefs.

A member of a pastor search committee once asked me if I believed the Biblical account of Jonah and the whale should be taken literally. She asked, “Did it actually historically happen the way the Bible says it did?”

I responded, “I believe that God can do what God wants to do. I have no trouble believing that God can use a whale to actually swallow man and spit him out on the beach of God’s choosing. However, if I die and get to heaven and find out that it was just a fictional story to reveal a great truth about the will of God, then I am not going to get angry and ask for a transfer!”

I believe the problem with the church today is that too many church people are so closed-minded they would opt for the transfer. They are so convinced, so right, so certain about the things of God that they leave no room for mystery and thus no need for faith, hope or trust.

One of the great things about our heritage as Disciples of Christ is our individual freedom to interpret the scriptures and to understand God and God’s relation to the world. We are encouraged to have open-minds when reading the Bible. No one was more of a free-thinker or had more of an open mind than our forefather, Barton Stone. That is why I believe he was so inclusive, welcoming all people to the Lord’s table. And that is why I believe we are such a non-judgmental, non-self-righteous, accepting people today. We do not presume to have all the answers. And we are not even close to having God all figured out.

Now, I wished we could just end the sermon right here. I wished we could just stand now and sing our hymn of commitment, pat ourselves on the back, and then go get some lunch. But, we can’t do it. We can’t do it, because now, now the sermon is just beginning.

We open-minded, free thinkers have to be very careful, that while embracing the mystery of God, we do not completely depersonalize God. While we accept broad views and opinions, while we practice widespread inclusivity and acceptance, we do not make the mistake and generalize God.

In emphasizing God as mysterious Spirit, a Spirit that Jesus says is comparable to the wind, blowing when and where it wills, in stressing God as Light in our world working in mysterious ways, we must be careful not make God into some sort of generic, vague enigmatic force.

In church, we say very specifically, “May the Spirit of Christ be with you.” We do not say very vaguely say, “May the force be with you.” That’s from Obie One Canobie and Yoda; not from the Old and New Testaments.

I have noticed, especially over the last decade, how Christians, in their attempts to find common ground with other faith groups, talk more about following a general God and less about following a specific Christ. When relating to Hindus, Muslims and Jews, I have heard Christians say things like: “We have our differences,” “but we all believe in God.”  But in our attempt to find common ground and unity, I believe we sacrifice God as a distinct, particular, and very personal being.

You hear a lot of talk today about spirituality.  More and more people are calling themselves “spiritual” instead of “Christian.”  There are far more books at Barnes and Nobles on Spirituality than are on Jesus. William Willimon says he can understand why this sort of reasoning is so attractive. “The more vague, indistinct, mushy, and impersonal we can make God, the better for us!” Willimon says that if God is so mysterious, “Then we can make God just about anything we want. We can render God into a projection of our sweet sentimentality and we will never have to grow, change, or be born again.”[i]

And when we depersonalize God we ignore about almost everything said about God in scripture. Take, for instance, today’s lectionary lessons—every one of them. Each of them, in their own way, speaks of a very personal God who sees, speaks, acts, moves, feels and intrudes. In the Old Testament Lesson for the day, the prophet Isaiah recounts how, even before he was born, God knew him personally and intimately and had special plans for him.

In the Epistle Lesson, Paul, when challenged by some dissidents at one of his early congregations, defends his authority as leader on the basis that God Almighty, the creator of all that is, had reached down and touched him, personally authorizing him as an apostle. The Greek word apostle, literally means “someone personally sent from God.”

And in our Gospel Lesson that I read this morning, John the Baptist looks at Jesus and sees in him the very presence of God in the flesh, the personification of God among us.  And Jesus himself said, that if we know him, we know his Father as well (John 14:7).

I believe we should think of this hour on Sunday morning as our attempt to get personal with God, to give that word “God,” which can be terribly abstract and general, some specific concreteness. Sunday morning is the time when we tell God who we are, but more importantly, it is the time when we listen to God tell us who God is.[ii]

Our God is not distant, aloof, some indistinct concept or some abstract idea. Our God is a personal being who yearns for the most intimate of relationships with each one of us. Our God is one who continually rips the heavens wide and swoops like a bird when we least expect it, calling us by name, affirming us as God’s beloved children. God reaches out and reaches in and touches the places in us that most need touching. And our hearts, our very souls burn with love.

Let me just stop my sermon for a moment and just look at you. As your pastor, part of what I love about you is not your vague generalities, but your very personal ways: the particular ways you love, the intimate ways you care, the unique ways you act, the peculiar way you share, the specific you give, the distinctive ways you serve, the certain ways you accept, the special ways your forgive.

I love you not for your generalities, but for your personal uniqueness.

“Humanity in general” does not move me.  A congregation “in general” does not energize me, evoke me, persuade me or love me—but you specifically can. You particularly can. You explicitly and certainly can.

The same is true with God. Here in this season of Epiphany, it is time to get personal, to get down to the specifics. We believe, that in the personal specifics of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, we have seen God. We have seen not some general, vague idea, not some mysterious force, but we have seen a person, a person walking among us, calling us, urging us, challenging us, loving us, forgiving us, changing us, and one day resurrecting us revealing the true life of God—revealing who God is, what God is like, how God feels, and how God relates to us and our world.

No, we do not have all of the answers. And as I said, I am comfortable not knowing all of the answers. I fully embrace the mystery of all that is.  I believe that there is a very good reason that each Sunday, we unite our hearts and pray, “Hallowed be Thy Name.” For His name is so beyond our fragile minds, so above our finite understanding, so outside our mortal comprehension, so utterly mysterious, that it is a name that is to always be revered and respected and sanctified.

However, that name just so happens to be “Father”—a word that cannot be any more personal. And the good news is, we pray, not merely “Father” but we pray very intimately and very specifically and personally “Our Father.”

No, when it comes to God, we cannot know it all, but what we can know is certainly, absolutely, unequivocally, undoubtedly enough.


[i] William Willimon, Pulpit Resource, 2006.

Heaven on Earth

DoveMatthew 3:13-17 NRSV

I have a confession to make to you this morning.                                                  

The truth is: I really don’t know what I’m doing half the time I’m standing up here behind this pulpit.  And if I don’t know what I’m doing, I feel certain that some, if not most of you, do not know what I am doing. This preaching thing is probably the hardest things about church. It’s hard on me, and I know it’s hard on you. I don’t know what is more difficult, preaching a sermon or listening to one.

After preaching for over nearly thirty years, I’m really not that certain if I really know how to preach. I’ve tried every technique.  Every once in a while I’ll try to be creative. Try to tell some good stories. Embellish a few if I have to. Robert Fulgum called it “making up necessary facts.” 

But it’s just so hard to talk about, and I know it’s hard to hear about the things of God.  And how do you really talk to people about God’s relationship to this mystery that we call life. How do you talk about Christmas, Epiphany, and the way God reveals God’s self in this world? I am in full agreement with Harry Emerson Fosdick when he said:

“I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.”

So if I cannot comprehend any of it, nor even want to comprehend any of it, how can I begin to talk about it?  

And here’s the real difficult part: How do you speak in such a way that people don’t just hear about God, but are brought to God or experience God?  How do you get people to get a sermon?  

After all, you have so many distractions.  There are so many obstacles to successful communication in this place.  First of all there are the people around you. I remember how hard it was when I was growing up trying to get something, anything out of a sermon! There was always somebody was always playing with a candy wrapper, getting up to go the restroom, some coughing, some sneezing, some biting their nails, some whispering, some dozing off, some even snoring. And today you have all of these electronic gadget distractions. There are ipods and ipads and iphones.

And then there are all kinds of entertaining observations. “His hair sure is thinning.  Her hair sure is graying.  What is he wearing?  And my, hasn’t she packed on the pounds!  She must have really enjoyed herself some Christmas!”

Then there’s the temperature.  It is either twenty degrees too cold or twenty degrees too hot. 

Then there are all of those other obstacles that you bring with you—attention deficit disorder, up too late the night before, too many things on your plate, a whole slew of problems and shortcomings, and then there’s that thing called, “sin” that is so much a part of all of us.

Let’s be honest:  It is an absolute miracle that anyone ever gets anything out of any sermon.

But sometimes, people do.  Sometimes, people undeniably hear.  Sometimes people do get it.

William WilIimon, who has written more books about preaching than anyone I know, once said that he suspected that the reason that most of you keep coming back here is “because having had the lightening to strike once, it could well strike again, and you want to be here for it.  Having once shuffled in here—distracted, unfocused, unsure—you have despite everything, irrefutably heard.”  You once came in here and caught a glimpse of something, and that something was undoubtedly from God.

You know what really annoys me about preaching?  It is when I preach a sermon that I had intended to be good sermon, a sermon that could have been a good sermon if I had a little more time, perhaps a been little less distracted and  a little more prayerful. It’s when I preach one of those sermons and you, you have the audacity to look at me on the way out of the church, grip my hand and say, “Thank you for that sermon. God really spoke to me today.”

You walk away to your car leaving me shaking my head thinking, “How did that happen?  How did anyone get anything out of that sermon?  Who pulled back the veil between us and God?  I know it wasn’t me.  It sure wasn’t anything that I said.”

It was just another ordinary day down at the river. John was down there baptizing people. At that time, baptism was a ritual that Jews sometimes went through, a kind of purification rite to prepare for the Advent of the Messiah.

“The Messiah’s coming!” John preached.  And as the people were going through the motions, wading into the water, some of them would ask John, “Are you the Messiah?”

“No,” answered John.  “I could not even tie the shoelaces of the one who is coming after me.  I baptize with water; the one who is more powerful than I, will baptize with fire!”

John keeps baptizing.  Then this one from Nazareth comes—and then, all of a sudden—a miracle happens—a dove swoops, the Spirit descends, a voice echoes, the heavens are ripped open, the veil is torn asunder!

This dove, this Spirit, and this voice is the biblical way of saying that heaven had come down to earth, and God’s Spirit was inexplicably but undeniably present. 

And this voice is of “heaven.”  It is not of the earth.  It is not from John.  John, unworthy to tie the laces of the Messiah, would be the first to admit that.  It has come from some other place. It has come from God.

I don’t know how many heard the voice that day.  I’m just glad that somebody heard it, experienced something like a dove, felt the Spirit and had the foresight to tell us about it.  Because maybe then we, with all of our distractions and obstacles, all of our doubts, all of our shortcomings, and yes, all of our sin, just maybe then, we may be open to such a voice and such a vision.

Professor Steven Vryhof writes about visiting a Lutheran church in a small village on the coast of Sweden where only fourteen congregants had gathered.  The blonde-haired minister was very young and somewhat nervous, right out of seminary.  Vryhoff struggled throughout the service with the Swedish hymns and the Lutheran tendency to stand to pray and sit to sing, the opposite of what he was used to.  He joined the others at the front for communion, taking the bread and the wine and then returning to his seat.

While the minister had his back to congregation, putting away the elements, a parishioner, a middle-aged woman, returned to the front, but this time pushing a very elderly woman, presumably her mother, in a wheelchair. 

He described the mother has having the “classic nursing home look: slumped to the right, thin, scraggly, colorless hair, vacant eyes, and a slack-jaw with her tongue showing just a bit.”  She was there for communion.

There was an awkward minute as they all waited for the minister to turn around and notice the two waiting at the front.  He finally did turn, perceived the situation, and then proceeded to retrieve the elements.  He carefully administered the bite of bread and the sip of wine to the old woman. And then he paused.  

It was then that Vryhof held his breath, because he knew what was going to happen next. The minister looked at the old woman, physically a wreck of a human being, and he said to her the most important words that one human being can say to another human being. The minister looked her straight in the eyes and said to her in Swedish:  “Our Lord Jesus Christ, whose body and blood you have received, preserve your soul unto everlasting life.”

Vryhoff writes:  “I suppose it was a coincidence, but it was a God-given coincidence nonetheless. At that precise moment, the bells of the church started pealing, ringing and resonating and resounding and reverberating through the church and through me, making the hair on the back of my head stand up.  Heaven touched earth and it seemed that Jesus Christ, himself was saying, ‘Yes, I will do that!’

And then the Father and the Spirit joined the Son, and using the same words given to Julian of Norwich [in fourteenth century England], the Triune God proclaimed loudly over the ringing of the bells, “I may make all things well, and I can make all things well, and I shall make all things well; and I will make all things well, and you will see yourself that every kind of thing will be well!”[i]

No, the reality is that I can’t preach God’s Word to you.  Forgive me when I try to explain Jesus or attempt to talk you about faith, God, epiphanies and this mystery life.  I can’t do it. And it’s not because I’m a bad preacher. It’s not because I lack the experience or the training.  It’s because true revelation, authentic recognition—when it’s about God—is always a gift from God.  It’s always a miracle.  It is always “from heaven.” The truth is, I can’t preach.  And the truth is, you can’t hear, except as a miracle, except a gift of God’s amazing grace.

I’m not saying that the baptism of Jesus happened with a literal dove descending and with an audible voice. I’m not saying that visions like this happen every day.  Because I really don’t know. I am saying that if we keep the faith, I believe it can and it will happen to you and to me!

You might be being baptized or receiving communion or listening to a sermon or a choir.  You might be kissing a child on the forehead, holding a puppy or sitting on a front porch with a friend. You might be taking a shower, driving to work or just staring off into space doing absolutely nothing, and then, when you thought you’ve got your world all figured out, the once hushed heavens open up, and something like a bird swoops down.  Heaven comes so close you can feel the breath of God.  A voice speaks. It’s inexplicable but undeniable.  Warmth fills your soul.  And you know beyond any doubt whatsoever that you are God’s beloved child.[ii]  Thanks be to God.  Let us pray together.

Lord Jesus, rip open the heavens and come to us, reach down, reach in, disrupt, touch, embrace, speak to us.  Do not leave us, O Lord, to our own devices.  Abandon us not to our own voices.  Speak to us, miraculously appear to us, and give us the grace to see and listen and the courage to follow.  Amen.


[i]Crash Helmets and Church Bells, Perspectives, August/September 2000, p. 3

[ii] Inspired and adapted from a sermon by William Willimon in Pulpit Resource, Logos Productions, 2009.

We Cannot Afford to Stop the Celebration!

peanuts christmas

Ephesians 1:3-14 NRSV

I know what some of you are thinking. You are thinking it because you were raised with the same good old-fashioned conservative values that I was raised with!

“Preacher, now tell me, just how long are we going to be celebrating Christmas? It is January 5th!  Christmas is long over. The time has now come to tighten up and cut back!”

“Yes, in December we are allowed to splurge a little, even overdo it. Be a little excessive, extravagant, indulgent, even a little wasteful. Because, after all, it was Christmas. It was the season for spending and bingeing. The time for gold, frankincense and myrrh!”

“We kept the heat running in the sanctuary 24-7 for an entire month to keep the tropical poinsettias alive. The lanterns burning outside beside each door have not been turned off since Thanksgiving.  

“But preacher, we just cannot afford to keep this extravagance going! Do you know how much light bulbs now cost?”

“And our utilities is not the only place where we have been indulgent. Do you know how much weight we have gained since Thanksgiving? Do you know how many extra calories we have consumed? We have gorged ourselves with cookies and pies and cakes and all sorts of candy! And we don’t even want to think about how much ham we have eaten!”

“And then we spent all of that money on gifts. We bought way too many presents for way too many people. Every year we always overdo it. Even for total strangers! Because, after all, it was December. And no one wants to be a scroogy, stingy Grinch at Christmas!”

“But now it is January. It is time to tighten those purse strings. Turn off those Christmas lights. Throw away those left-over cookies. And start pinching those pennies!”

“January is the time to restrict, conserve and limit. It is the time to scrimp and to save. It is time to tighten the belts and pull in the horns and get back to our miserly ways!”

“As much as we would like to, we simply cannot afford to keep this Christmas celebration going. We will run out of money before Easter or all be dead from diabetes or heart disease!”

So, ok, I got it. I totally get it. As soon as this service is over, I promise, we are turning off the Christmas tree lights, and we will not light them again until November 30th! The poinsettias are gone so we will make sure the thermostat is set to turn the heat off in this place until choir practice on Wednesday night. And I have resolved with many of you to go on a stricter diet and adopt a stricter budget.

However, while we are all in this conservative mood to cut down, cut back, and cut out, we need to be careful that we do not forget, put aside or ignore the good news that was Christmas.

This week the Apostle Paul reminds us that we must keep part of the celebration going with these eloquent words:

 He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.

Now there’s a word in that does not fit in our tight-fisted January vocabulary.  Lavish:  That’s a December word if there ever was one!

Riches that are lavished: It denotes unrestrained, excessive, even wasteful extravagance. The Apostle Paul seems to be saying, that when it comes to grace, when it comes to forgiveness, when it comes love, when it comes to giving people fresh starts and clean slates, no matter what month of the year it is, there is nothing miserly or conservative about our God.

The entire Biblical witness testifies to this truth. Cain killed his brother Able in the very first chapters of our Bible. And what does God do? Cain is exiled from the community because of his actions, but God promises to go with him to protect him.

Moses killed an Egyptian, breaking one of the big Ten Commandments. But here’s the thing: God chose that murderer to reveal those commandments to the world and to lead the Israelites out of bondage into the Promised Land.

David not only committed adultery, but killed the husband of his mistress. Yet, God chose him to be the King of Israel.

When it comes to forgiveness, when it comes to grace, when it comes to love, when it comes to giving people fresh starts and clean slates, God lavishes. God overdoes it. The riches of God’s grace are excessive, extravagant and abundant.

And those of us who have listened to Jesus should not at all be surprised.

The story of his very first miracle says it all. When the wine gave out at a wedding party, what does Jesus do?  He turns water into more wine!  Not just some water into a little bit of wine. He makes, according to John’s estimate, about 180 gallons of the best-tasting wine they ever had.  As a preacher, I know I am probably not supposed to know about such things, but that seems like an extravagant amount of wine to me! Sounds like he just might have overdone it a bit!

Then, we’re reminded of all those stories that Jesus told. A farmer sows way too much seed. Most of it was “wasted,” falling on the wrong type of soil. But I suppose when sowing good seed in bad soil, you have to overdo it. You have to lavish the dirt with seed. And the seed that did manage to take root produced a harvest that is described as abundant!

The father of the prodigal son didn’t just welcome his returning son.  That in itself is extravagant.  But the father lavished the son. The father said to his servants, “Quickly bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on my son; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate!

It wasn’t that the Good Samaritan stopped and helped the wounded man in the ditch. It was the way he stopped and helped. It was the way he lavished the man pouring expensive oil on his wounds. Then he put the wounded man in his car. He took the man to the hospital and told the doctors, “Forget about filing insurance! Here’s all my credit cards, my checkbook, everything. I’ll be back in a week, and if that’s not enough money to treat the man’s wounds, I’ll give you even more!”

Come on now! Isn’t that overdoing it?

There’s something built right into the nature of God, it would seem, that tends toward extravagance and abundance and excessiveness.

As people who have been called to inherit this nature, as the Body of Christ in this world, how do we live?  I know how we live in December. But how do we live January through November? Are we protective with our love?  Are we miserly with our forgiveness?  Do we scrimp on grace? Are we tight-fisted with the good news? Do our good, old-fashioned conservative values sometimes cause us to put Christmas back in the attic and turn off the lights too quickly?

I have to ask that questions because, unfortunately, this is a real problem with many churches these days. If somebody wants to be judged or belittled; feel unforgiven, unaccepted, unloved and unworthy; if someone wants someone to look down on their noses at them, one of the best places they can go is to church.  And that, I believe, is one of the main reasons, some churches will be forced to close their doors for good in the next few years.

People come to church seeking the Jesus that they have heard about, the God that they have experienced while gazing at the vastness of the stars in the night sky, but they enter the doors to find something that is quite the opposite.

Each Sunday morning of the year, maybe especially this Sunday morning, this first Sunday of a new year, we open the doors to our sanctuary and welcome people who are in desperate need. They are wanting, hungry. They are people who are yearning to start over, begin anew, get a fresh start, a clean slate.

How do I know? Because I am one of them.

Death, divorce, disease, and grief—in a thousand different ways, this world has beaten them up. They have grown weary and some even hopeless from battling cancer and other illnesses, having nightmares about terrorism, bank robberies and home invasions. They have made countless mistakes in life. Some have betrayed the people they love the most. They have disappointed co-workers, friends and family. They are riddled with guilt. They are sometimes tempted to believe God, like others, has it in for them. At times they feel judged and feel condemned by the universe.

And as the body of Christ in this world, we are called to give them the one thing that they need, the one thing that every human being living in this broken world needs: a need to be lavished. We are called to lavish them with the love and grace and forgiveness that we inherited at Christmas.

Jesus was teaching on a hillside and looks out at the large crowd that showed up looking for some hope. Thousands of them came from all over. They were hungry and weary, broken and sinful. Darkness and desperation was setting in.

The miserly disciples said: “Send them back to town, for there’s really nothing we can do for them here. We barely have enough to take care of our own needs.

But Jesus takes all they have, blesses it, breaks it, and feeds 5,000 people, the population of Farmville!

But the story doesn’t end there. They took up what was left over, and 12 baskets were filled. Once again, in typical fashion, Jesus overdid it. Jesus splurged. He went on a bender. He binged. Jesus indulged and overindulged. Jesus lavished.

When Jesus is present, people in need are always lavished. There is always abundant love, extravagant forgiveness, and overflowing grace.

As a church we might say cannot afford to keep the December celebration going. But the reality is: we cannot afford to stop the celebration. Because if we ever stop lavishing one another with the riches of God’s love and grace and forgiveness, if we ever get scroogy and stingy with the good news of Christmas, then we stop being the church.

Let us pray.

O God, may we continue to be the church you are calling us to be, one that lavishes all people with your grace, just as we ourselves have been lavished. In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

Go now and keep the celebration going. Because the truth, we cannot afford to stop it. Continue your December bender. Go on, continue to overdo it. Splurge. Indulge and overindulge. Lavish all people with overflowing grace of Jesus Christ, the abundant love of God and extravagant communion of the Holy Spirit, as it has been and continues to be lavished upon each of us!

Keeping It Real at Christmas

keeping-it-realMatthew 2:10-18

There were several wonderful things about our service on Christmas Eve, the night that we celebrated the coming of God into this world through the gift of Jesus Christ:

The number of people that chose to worship here on that night—of course!

Our soloist, Allison Bonner—most certainly!

Sharing Holy Communion with our loved ones—definitely!

The singing of familiar carols and the lighting of our candles—absolutely!

However, whether we realized it or not, I believe the very best thing about our worship on Christmas Eve was the large number of babies and small children present, and especially all of the noise and fuss that they were making.

On the night that we gathered to worship the gift of a new-born baby, born for our salvation, we were reminded of the sheer, untamed, undecorated reality of that gift as babies were crying, children were restless and some adults grew anxious.

As we very sentimentally turned off the lights, lit out candles and sang the sweet verses of Silent Night, the light in the Church Street Narthex continued to burn brightly while a stressed mother bounced her fussy infant in her arms, pacing back and forth.

And while there were anxious parents and grandparents here in this place, there was even more anxiousness, worry and even fear beyond these walls.

As we were listening to the angelic voice of Allison Bonner sing O Holy Night, Joe and Cass Santapolo were with their daughter, Caroline and her sick son Jackson in the children’s hospital at Duke University awaiting surgery.

While we were sharing the bread and the cup, Cora Aycock had just arrived in the emergency room at Vidant with her son James who had a bacterial infection.

While we were listening to the story of Christmas and singing carols, countless other children were suffering—some from all kinds of sickness, from ear infections and stomach viruses to seizures and cancer—some from abuse, others from hunger.

This is Christmas unfiltered. This is real Christmas. This is Christmas reality.

But every year we try to cover it up. We wrap it with colorful paper and tie a bow around it. We string it with artificial lights and decorate it. We try to romanticize it, sentimentalize it. But no matter how hard 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.

But every year, for whatever reason, we try. Maybe it is because the story fills us with so much hope and so much peace, we can’t help but to glamourize the scene of that first Noel.

In our 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 fussing, no colic, no ear infections, no stomach viruses, no disease, no restlessness, no dirty diapers, no spit up, no anxiety, no fear.  Our Nativity is a serene, sweet, sanitized scene. It never rains in our Bethlehem.

And then we tend to romanticize the rest of the story.

A glorious baptismal scene with John the Baptist and the Holy Spirit descending like a dove. Jesus calling faithful disciples who drop everything to follow him. Even the cross has become sentimental—a perfect, pretty piece of jewelry to adorn the neck. It looks nice upright or sideways. In our minds, the whole story is a beautiful, perfect fairytale.

But the truth is that was not the reality of Christmas. Christmas reality was not beautiful.  Christmas reality was far from perfect.

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 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. This is the Christmas reality.

And the rest of the story?

We forget that John Baptist argued with Jesus trying to prevent his baptism. We forget Jesus was tempted by Satan not only in the desert for forty days but his entire life by disciples who never seemed to understand him. We forget he made just a few precious friends, but a mob of enemies. And in the end, those enemies got him.  And his best friends betrayed, denied and abandoned him. And we forget that it was in the most god-forsaken of ways, God, the creator of all that is, was tortured to death.[i]

This is the reality of it. And this is the good news of it!  This is why the story fills us with such hope and peace. The reality, the good news of Christmas is that there is nothing glamorous, glitzy sentimental, or romantic about it. 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.

Dr. Ernie White was one of my professors who was stricken with cancer while I was a student at Southern Seminary. I’ll never forget something he shared with us in class one day.  He said, “Although I cannot explain it, somehow, the sicker I am, the more pain I experience, the more hopeful I become, because in the moments of my most immense suffering, God has been and is the most real to me.”

Because of Christmas, 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, the most broken.

This is what made our Christmas Eve service so wonderful, so miraculous. As we lit the Christ candle with fussy children in the background, we were reminded that God is truly Emmanuel. God is intimately and empathetically with us in our broken reality. God was not looking down on our worship from glorious streets of gold, but God was right here in these worn, wooden pews beside us.

Beside the one who broke her leg… Beside the one who lost his job… Beside the one whose marriage is ending… Beside the one undergoing treatments for cancer…  Beside the ones whose children are sick… Beside the ones whose children have died.

On this First Sunday after Christmas we bless these sweet children, we promise to surround them with a community of love; however, we also realize that truly loving them means that we cannot always protect them from the broken reality that is this world. However, with faith in Christmas, with faith in the God who knows the reality of this broken world, we know that God will always truly and authentically be Emmanuel, God with them.

Therefore, when we bless James Alexander Aycock and David Grimes Lewis this morning, when we touch them saying to them, “The peace of Christ be with you always,” we are not merely whistling in the dark. We are not simply being sentimental and in no way are we being artificial. But we are being as authentic, as genuine and as true as we can possibly be.

As people with the faith in Christmas, we are keeping it real—as real as that untamed night in an undecorated stable in Bethlehem.

And baby James, who has a tube in one of his kidneys, awaiting surgery on that kidney in a couple of weeks, deserves nothing less.

And baby Grimes, who has been on antibiotics and a nubulizer this week, who has just started teething, who promises, like all babies, that the one thing we can all expect in this world is the unexpected, demands that we keep it real this day!

Let us pray together: O God, we thank you for coming into the real world as a real little baby, thank you for encountering real evil, for experiencing real suffering and pain, for dying a very real death. And we praise you, dear Lord, for resurrecting it all and for giving us a peace that is beyond understanding and a hope that is abundant and eternal. Amen.

 

PRAYERS AND OTHER ELEMENTS OF WORSHIP  FOR THE DEDICATION OF CHILDREN, PARENTS AND CONGREGATION

INVOCATION

Emmanuel, God with us, show us where you may be found today. In each human birth, in the joys of parenthood and in tragedy and loss—in loving homes and in broken homes.

Emmanuel, we rejoice that you are with us—in everything, through everything.

Lord Christ, be born in us today.

Word of God, become flesh in us that we might live your gospel in hope.

Light of the world, shine on us and in us and through us for our sakes and for the sake of your world.

Loving God, help us to see your grace, hear your voice, and follow in your way through Jesus Christ our Savior who taught us to pray…

PASTORAL PRAYER

O God, as we continue to celebrate the good news of Christmas, as we continue to light candles and sing carols, even as we gather around a beautiful tree aglow with lights and Chrismons, we acknowledge the real pain and the real sadness of this broken world.

While we rejoice in hope, we know of others who cry in despair.

While we experience peace, others know strife and injustice.

While we are surrounded by love, others are enveloped by hatred.

While we are filled with joy, others are overcome with grief and fear.

Thank you for being Emmanuel, God with us. Thank you for coming into this world as it is, fragmented, fragile and forlorn. Thank you for knowing what it feels like to be human in the real world—to be tempted, lonely, betrayed, afraid, to die, and to even feel forsaken by God.

And thank you for always working in our world to transform it all, to redeem it all, to resurrect it all, to work all things together for the good.

Come now and work on us, work in us, and work through us, to help us share this good news with all people, especially to the children with which we have been entrusted. Help us to prepare them for the world ahead of them by showing them faith in Christ and teaching them to follow the way of the gospel.

Forgive us when we fall in love with Christmas but neglect to share it with others. But continue to be Emmanuel as we continue to strive to be the church that you are calling us to be in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen.

 

INVITATION TO COMMUNION[ii]

This is the table of the Lord.

Come, not because you are strong, but because you are weak.

Come, not because you deserve to come or you have done something to earn the right to come, but because you need mercy and you need grace.

Come because you love the Lord a little, but you like to love him more.

Come, because the Lord loves you and understands what it is like to be you. Come because the Lord has become flesh to dwell among us.

Let this bread and this cup be for you the token and pledge of the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit.

 

OFFERTORY SENTENCE (Adapted from Worship Reources #518 Chalice Worship, p.392.)

The amazing gift of God who emptied God’s self, poured God’s self out into the real world to become one of us prompts us to make a grateful response. In Christ we have known a love that will not let us go. Through an offering, let us share this love in our community and to the ends of the earth.

OFFERTORY PRAYER

Gracious God, we now give these offerings that they might herald the good news of Christmas. Accept them as expressions of our response to the gift of your Son and the salvation he brought us.

 

DEDICATION OF CHILDREN[iii]

Hear these words from Deuteronomy 6:4-7

4 Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.* 5You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. 6Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. 7Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.

Charge to Parents

You parents are now to recall your own faith journeys and give yourselves in covenant to lead your children toward full discipleship in Christ.

With gratitude to God;

Josh and Cora, do you receive James Alexander; Billy and Jessica, do you receive David Grimes, as a precious gift of God, and seek God’s grace and this community’s support in nurturing and caring for your child?

Do you covenant to remain faithful in love to your child, whatever the future may bring?

Do you promise before God and this community so to fashion your lives that your child may come to know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior?

If so, please say, “I do.”

Charge to the Church

The church, as a family of God, gladly joins you in holy covenant for the care and the nurture of these children.

Congregation, will you please stand.

Do you promise as a community of faith:

To surround these families with your love for the strengthening of their life together;

To be for these parents and children a family in Christ whose love for them cannot be broken;

To accept these children into your loving care for shared responsibility in their growth toward fullness in the life of Christ.

To keep it real with these children, by telling they the good news of Christ, to help them learn the ways of Christ and to lead them in service to God and neighbor?

If so, please indicate so, by saying “We do.”

James Alexander Aycock, I am not merely whistling in the dark when I say to you, “May the peace of Christ always be with you.”

David Grimes Lewis, I am not glibly gushing when I say to you, “May the peace of Christ always be with you.”

Prayer of Dedication

Great and gracious God,

We celebrate these young lives that you have given us, and ask your  blessing upon them.

Lay upon them your hands of love, that they may always know how precious they are to you—and to us.

Lay upon them your hands of grace, so that when they fall for falter, they will know that you are there to help pick them up again.

Lay upon them your hands of hope, that they will grow up to dream bold dreams, and lay upon them your hands of courage so that they might bring those dreams to life.

Lay upon them your hands of Light, so that your light might shine through them.

Lay upon them your hands of joy, so that their lives might be filled with laughter.

Bless these children, O God, for we dedicate them to you. And in so doing, we renew our own dedication to you so that your lives might be a word of blessing upon the lives of our children. As family and friends, as their family of faith, help us to be good stewards of the lives with which we have been entrusted. In the name of Jesus Christ, who welcomed the children, we pray. Amen.[iv]

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

Go now into the real world and keep it real.

Go into the real world and share your faith in a real God who became a real little baby, who encountered real evil, experienced real suffering and pain, and died a very real death.

As you have blessed James and Grimes this day, go and in a very real way, share the peace of Christ with all people.

And may the real love of God, the real grace of Jesus Christ and the real communion of the Holy Spirit be with us all.


[i] Inspired from a sermon by Frederick Buechner entitled “Two Stories,” from Secrets in the Dark  (New York: Harper Collins, 2007), 86-87.

[ii] Adapted from Colbert S. Cartwright, O.I. Cricken Harrison, eds. Chalice Worship (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 1997), 21, 22.

[iii] Adapted from Chalice Worship, 21, 22.

[iv] Haymes, Peggy. Be Thou Present: Prayers, Litanies, and Hymns for Christian Worship (Macon, Georgia: Smyth and Helwys Pubishing, 1994), 69.

We Do Not Light Our Candles on Christmas Eve with Optimism

candlelight-services

I was listening to MPR a while back and heard an interview with a psychologist who said that, according to her research, the single, biggest key to living a healthy life is staying optimistic.   In one of those voices that was so pleasant and friendly and sugary sweet that it got on your nerves, she said:

“Optimists have less stress, better marriages, and healthier diets. They tend to have a sunnier outlook on the world, which translates to positive self-esteem and self-confidence. Optimists generally believe that things are getting better, that humanity is improving, the world’s problems are being solved.”

And then, to clinch her point, she said: “We also discovered that optimists live longer than other people.”

As a Christian minister I thought: “If that statement about optimists is really true, then there is no way that Jesus could have been an optimist.  For he was dead at 33.”

While some Christians are always  a delight to be around, always cheerful and positive, Christmas hope is fundamentally different from optimism.

Christian hope has very wide and focused eyes on the devastation of the world, and Christmas hope readily acknowledges that things may not get better.  Christmas hope does not bury its head in yuletide cheer and artificial lights, but like an Advent wreath glowing stronger and brighter each week, Christmas hope pushes its way into the brokenness of this world, clearing a path in the darkness so that the true light might shine.

Christian hope has the courage to work for the Biblical vision of justice, healing and liberation, trusting that such working is a testimony, a witness to the Light: The light that came through Jesus to teach us that God loves us and God is with us and God will never leave us and never forsake us;  The Light that reveals God will stay by our side and resurrect all of our sorrow into joy, our despair into hope and our deaths into life.

Tom Long tells a story about rabbi Hugo Grynn who was sent to Aushwitz as a little boy.  In the concentration camp, in the midst of death and immense suffering, many Jews held on to whatever shreds of religious observance they could without drawing the attention of the guards.  One cold winter’s evening, Hugo’s father gathered the family in the barracks.  It was the first night of Chanukah, the Feast of Lights.  The young child watched in horror as his father took the family’s last stick of butter and made a makeshift candle using a string from his ragged clothes.  He then took a match and lit the candle.

“Father, no!” Hugo cried.  “That butter is our last bit of food!  How will we survive?”

“We can live for many days without food,” his father said. “But we cannot live a single minute without hope.  This is the fire of hope.  Never let it go out.   Not here.  Not anywhere.”

It is Christmas Eve.  These days are darker, both literally and figuratively.  We are surrounded by never-ending questions of pain and sadness—a world groaning for salvation. Tonight we light our candles, hear the Christmas story and say our prayers, and wait for the coming Christ.  We wait for the Light that will never go out.

We are not being merely optimistic.  But in Christ, we possess an abundance of faith, trust and confidence that God is Emmanuel, God with us and God for us, and the day is coming when God’s Light will come and rid this world of darkness forever bringing forth a new and glorious creation!