Category: Sermons Year A

Divine Expectations

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

Isaiah 5:1-7 NRSV

This morning, I want to invite you to grab a jacket and go with me to a beautiful winery, high atop a mountain with a breath-taking 360-degree view stretching in all directions. As we arrive, our host leads us to a table overlooking the vineyard which has been planted on the hillside. A waiter brings us a mouthwatering charcuterie board filled with all kinds of goodness and a flight of their best-tasting wines. As we begin sipping our first glass, we notice a musician standing in front of a mic tuning his guitar.

The artist clears his throat and introduces himself:

“My name is Isaiah. Please allow me to share a love-song that I have been inspired to write and sing for you today.”

“Oh, how we love a love-song!” we say to one another as we sit back and eat a bite of cheese.

Isaiah begins singing with this soft, mellow, folksy voice…

My beloved had a vineyard
on a very fertile hill. 

“Ooooh, he’s good!” we say, as we take another sip of wine.

He dug it and cleared it of stones,
and planted it with choice vines;
he built a watchtower in the midst of it,
and hewed out a wine vat in it;

The pleasant voice of the musician is soothing to our ears. We are touched by the song’s lyrics describing the love and nurturing care of the beloved: “What a wonderful love-song this musician is serenading us with!”

But then, like a typical love song, there’s some heartbreak…

he expected it to yield grapes,
but it yielded wild grapes.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I wonder how that happened?”

And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem
and people of Judah,
judge between me
and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard
that I have not done in it?
When I expected it to yield grapes,
why did it yield wild grapes? 

Taking another sip of wine: “How disappointing! You work so hard. You give so much, all that you have and all that you are! You faithfully and lovingly do all that you can do! And for what? Heart ache. This is a sad love song.”

At that very moment, the singer’s face contorts, and in what seems like a fit of rage, he angerly hits the strings of his guitar causing his instrument to scream! The soft, gentle love ballad has become an ear-splitting, deafening heavy-metal hard rock anthem![i]

With a loud, shrieking, most unpleasant voice, the musician yells:

AND NOW I WILL TELL YOU
WHAT I WILL DO TO MY VINEYARD.

We are now nervously drinking our flights like they are shots of liquor, one after the other!

I WILL REMOVE ITS HEDGE,
AND IT SHALL BE DEVOURED;
I WILL BREAK DOWN ITS WALL,
AND IT SHALL BE TRAMPLED DOWN.
I WILL MAKE IT A WASTE;
IT SHALL NOT BE PRUNED OR HOED,
AND IT SHALL BE OVERGROWN WITH BRIERS AND THORNS;
I WILL ALSO COMMAND THE CLOUDS
THAT THEY RAIN NO RAIN UPON IT. 

We start bobbing our heads to the beat, trying our best to get into it, make the best of it, go with it: “Yeah, cut down the Vineyard! Down with the vineyard! To hades with the vineyard! Destroy the vineyard!”

But just when we get riled up, Isaiah begins strumming the guitar gently again. And back with his soft, folksy, pleasant voice he sings…

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts
is the house of Israel,
and the people of Judah
are his pleasant planting;
he expected justice,
but saw bloodshed;
righteousness,
but heard a cry!

And suddenly, realizing that the musician was never singing about a vineyard; but lamenting the disappointment the people of God have become to God, lamenting the pain and suffering the people of God have caused in the world, we spit out our wine and choke on a piece of cheese!

What begins as an enjoyable “love-song” is quickly transformed into a harsh, allegorical anthem of judgment.

God, the creator of the vineyard, graciously and generously gave all that God had to give to ensure a fruitful harvest. No expense is spared in picking a good site, in preparing the land, in choosing the best plants, in protecting it from thieves, and in the processing of the grapes. But, in response to the boundless love of the creator, what the vineyard produces is “wild grapes,” or literally from Hebrew, “stinky things.”  God “expected” or “hoped for” sweetness, but all God received was bitterness. And consequently, there is catastrophic judgment.

It’s very important to note that in the theology of the Hebrew prophets, including Isaiah, judgment is always something that we bring on ourselves. I often hear people say: “I prefer the New Testament God over the Old Testament God. Less judgement!” However, God is never portrayed by the prophets throwing lightning bolts down from heaven in the way some ancient Greek god might do. Thus, judgment should never be understood as God’s need or desire to punish or get even with sinful humanity. God lovingly grants us freedom allowing us to make our choices. If we choose the way of darkness, then we will have to face the consequences of those choices. God, even in the Hebrew Bible, is always love, always generous, always gracious. That’s why the prophet’s song begins as a love song.

And in response to the love of God, what does humanity freely choose? Instead of the justice that God expected, God sees bloodshed. Instead of righteousness, God hears a cry. To emphasize this harsh truth, Isaiah uses a play on words. Instead of the “justice” (mishpat) that God expected, God sees “bloodshed” (mispach). And instead of “righteousness” (tsedaqah), God hears “a cry” (tse’aqah). Instead of the goodness, kindness, fairness, hospitality and equality that God expects the people to enact and embody, there is only cruelty, oppression and injustice that leads people to cry out for help.

The Hebrew word translated “cry” is notably revealing. When God’s people were being victimized by Pharaoh in Egypt, their response was to “cry” to God for liberation (Exodus 3:7). This word also occurs in 1 Samuel 8 when Samuel warns the people about the “justice” of the soon-to-be-established monarchy. As Samuel puts it, the “justice” of the kings will be nothing but oppression; thus, the people “will cry out” because of the king they have chosen for themselves. The warning from Samuel is that the monarchy itself will re-create the oppressive conditions of Pharaoh’s Egypt. And through his vineyard love song, Isaiah suggests that the worst has happened. God’s own people have chosen a political system that creates victims who are crying out for liberation.

The details of the oppressive conditions are evident as chapter 5 unfolds. The displacement of poor farmers from their land result in both homelessness and hunger (13). Greed and excess are supported by a corrupt legal system (23). And although it is the poor who are directly victimized, everyone eventually stands to lose when justice and righteousness are not enacted and embodied (15,16).

Violence, victimization, hunger, homelessness, greed, excess, corruption —Sadly, not much has changed, has it?

A prophet called Pope Francis recently challenged French President Emmanuel Macron and other European leaders to open their ports to people fleeing hardship and poverty. With words that sound much like Isaiah’s, he called for the Mediterranean Sea that so many cross to reach Europe “to be a beacon of hope, not a graveyard of desperation.”[ii]

He said that today the Mediterranean Sea “cries out for justice, with its shores that on the one hand exude affluence, consumerism and waste, while on the other, there is poverty and instability.”

Today, we know that our entire planet is crying out due to the selfishness and greed of a minority of the world’s population.

And somewhere in our world today, a parent is crying as a child dies every 4 seconds from causes related to hunger and malnutrition.[iii]

In the United States, the so-called richest country in the world, 58.5 percent of people experience poverty by the time they reach the age of 75.[iv]

Nearly 30 million people in the United States still live with no health insurance.[v] All the while, corporate executives make 399 times more money than the average worker.[vi]

Every year, proposed state and federal budgets seek to drastically reduce or eliminate funding for programs and services that tend to the essential needs of our most vulnerable, most on the margins, most threatened citizens: the working poor, the hungry, the homeless, the physically sick, the mentally ill, the disabled, the elderly, those in public housing and public schools, and those buried in debt.

Psychologist and prophet Mary Pipher pointed out the obvious when she wrote:

We have cared more about selling things to our neighbors than we’ve cared for our neighbors. The deck is stacked all wrong, and ultimately, we will all lose.[vii]

Yet, we know we can do better. We should do better. God expects us to do better. But tragically, instead of justice, God sees violence. Instead of righteousness, God hears the cries of victims (Isaiah 5:7).

Instead of protecting equal access to the ballot box, we chose to find ways to suppress the vote.

Instead of banning weapons of war, we chose to ban books.

Instead of finding ways to support schools serving low-income and marginalized students, we chose to close the schools.

Instead of building a bigger table, we chose to build a bigger wall.

Instead of making the gospel about good news for the poor, the marginalized and the oppressed, we made it solely about an individual’s ticket to heaven.

Speaking on the behalf of God, the prophet asks us to judge between God and the people of God (Isaiah 5:3). The verdict is clear. The question is not: “Why does God allow bad things to happen in this world?” The question is: “Why do we?”

To quote another prophet, in his acceptance speech for the 1986 Nobel Peace Prize, Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel reminded us:

We must always take sides.

Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.

Human rights are being violated on every continent.

More people are oppressed than free.

How can we not be sensitive to their plight?

Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere. There is so much to be done, there is so much that can be done.

One person—a Raoul Wallenberg, an Albert Schweitzer, a Martin Luther King, Jr.

—one person of integrity can make a difference, a difference of life and death.

As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true.

As long as one child is hungry, our lives will be filled with anguish and shame.

What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them,

that when their voices are stifled, we shall lend them ours,

that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs.”[viii]

Jesus talked about vineyards. And one day, he referred to himself a vine and called his disciples the branches (John 15). May his gifts of grace mobilize us to bear fruit by caring for the lost, the least and the last among us. Amen.

[i] This thought was inspired from a sermon by Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson http://dimlamp.wordpress.com/2010/08/12/sermon-12-pentecost-yr-c/

[ii] https://www.huffpost.com/entry/bc-eu-rel-france-pope_n_650efd6ae4b060f32d3aa5cf

[iii] https://www.who.int/news/item/10-01-2023-a-child-or-youth-died-once-every-4.4-seconds-in-2021—un-report

[iv] https://confrontingpoverty.org/poverty-facts-and-myths/most-americans-will-experience-poverty

[v] https://www.moneygeek.com/insurance/health/analysis/americans-without-coverage

[vi] https://www.npr.org/2023/09/13/1198938942/high-ceo-pay-inequality-labor-union-uaw-workers

[vii] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20-3/commentary-on-isaiah-51-7-3

[viii] https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1986/wiesel/acceptance-speech/

How Are We United?

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

Philippians 2:1-13 NRSV

It is World Communion Sunday, annually observed on the first Sunday in October to celebrate the unity of the world-wide Church. As a symbol of unity, Christians from all over the world come together this day to confess “Jesus is Lord” and to participate in the Lord’s Supper.

In the 19th century, our Disciples of Christ forebears Barton Stone, Thomas and Alexander Campbell were great proponents of such unity. They believed that, despite of our different nationalities, languages, cultures, races and creeds, this table, the bread and the cup, and the great confession of faith “Jesus is Lord,” unites us all.

So as a Christian minister, especially as a Disciples of Christ minister, I am supposed to stand behind this pulpit on this day and confidently announce that because we will participate in the Lord’s Supper this morning, and because we confess with our mouths that Jesus Christ is Lord, we are united. We are in one accord with Christians from all over the world who are sharing in the same supper and making the same confession.

I suppose it is great, sentimental thought. It is a gushy, romantic concept. And it sounds like the responsibly religious thing to say on this World Communion Sunday. But, if I am to be honest this morning, I am not so certain I am buying it. Or I am at least struggling to believe it.

For example: are we really in one accord with the person or persons who, with obvious malice, continues to strip the flag from our church sign?

Or are we really in solidarity with the racist Christians who belong to the German National Democratic Party that is seeking to revive Nazism?

Are we on the same page with Christians in Russia, Uganda and Nigeria who are supporting laws that are brutally repressive to LGBTQ people?

Do we really want to brag about being on common ground with Christians in Jordan, Iran and Syria who have murderous hatred for the nation of Israel?

And are we unified with Christians, here in our own country, who harbor the same hate for Palestinians? Or believe that it is not only okay to discriminate on the basis of race, gender or sexuality, but out of fear and hate, believe it is their duty to God to do so? Do we stand untied with the Christians who marched in Charlottesville carrying tiki torches shouting, “Jews will not replace us,” or with the Christians who stormed the Capitol on January 6 carrying crosses or banners that read “Jesus Is Lord” while shouting, “hang Mike Pence!”

Are we really at one with the Christian TV evangelists who live in mansions they bought with money donated by the people they swindled, many of them poor?

Sometimes, I look at the actions of Christians around the world and think that I may have more in common those who do not profess any faith at all.

Like us, these Christians confess “Jesus is Lord.” Like us, they partake in the Lord’s Supper. And like us, they may even be partaking today on this World Communion Sunday, this very hour. But they are nothing at all like us. When they eat the bread today, it appears to be from a much different loaf. When they drink the juice or wine today, it seems to be from a totally different cup.

The truth is that there are many people in this world who erroneously only confess or claim to be Christian. In chapter seven of Matthew’s gospel we read Jesus’ words: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ [I think we could add here: “Did we not take the Lord’s Supper together in your name?]  And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’” (Matthew 7:21-23).

So, I must honestly confess that I really don’t want to united with some who confess Jesus to be Lord, and who share in the Lord’s Supper.

So, maybe our unity needs to come from another place.

In the newsletter, this week I made the suggestion that love of our neighbors can unite us.

For Jesus said:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another (John 13).

In John’s epistle we read:

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. Those who say, ‘I love God’, and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.

I believe God wants Christians around the world to unite today, not merely around a table or with a confession of faith, but by the Christ-like love we have for others every day. We are to love as God loves us, selflessly, sacrificially, unreservedly and unconditionally.  As the song goes, “What this world needs today more than anything else is love, sweet love.”

But here’s the problem with this “all-we-need-is-love” theology. It makes great gushy music, and it might inspire an inspirational sermon; however, the truth is: the love we have for others will never be enough to truly unite all Christians. Because, as much as we try to love one another, we will always fall short.

Our ego, our pride, and our is always getting in the way.

For example, “It is nearly impossible for me to stand up here this morning and preach “love one another” and not have some disdain in my heart for those Christians who do not love one another. Wasn’t the judgmental pride in my voice obvious a moment ago when I arrogantly suggested we were not united with, were better than, “other” Christians?

I sounded like the self-righteous Pharisee in one of Jesus’ parables who arrogantly boasted, thanking and praising God that he was not like the Tax Collector (Luke 18).

The truth is, when it comes to genuinely loving one another as God loves us, as hard as we might try, we all fall short.

         So, what is it that truly unites us as Christians? In 1 John we read:

God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God, BUT THAT GOD LOVED US…Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.

It is not our love that unites us. It is God’s love that unites us. Christians all over the world are united by the truth that:

 Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God, as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.

All Christians are united by the great truth that “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

The good news is that THIS is what unites us as Christians. God loves us despite our egotistical love and our judgmental love. God loves despite our arrogance and self-righteousness, and God loves us despite our hate.

Thus, the truth is that we do indeed have something in common with the malicious folks who keep stripping our flag of extravagant welcome. We have something in common with the racist, Neo-Nazi, German Christians, with homophobic Russian, Ugandan, and Nigerian Christians, with anti-Semitic Christians around the world, with hateful and fearful American Christians, and with those TV evangelists living their mansions who oppress the poor. And with our Christian neighbors who believe it is their God-given duty to discriminate against those who live and love differently than they do.

And 200 years ago, Barton Stone, Thomas and Alexander Campbell were exactly right. This table and our confession of faith “Jesus is Lord” unite us all.

We are united by this meal, representing the body and the blood of Christ, representing the very life of God lovingly broken and graciously poured out for all. Christians all over the world, with all our sin and shortcomings, share the same bread and the same cup and receive the same grace.

We are made one by the great confession that our Lord is Jesus, who was sent to save us, not because of our love for God, or for others, but because of God’s love for us.

The good news is that this not some great, sentimental thought or some gushy, romantic concept, and this is not just the responsibly religious thing to say on this World Communion Sunday. This is the gospel.

Living in a Manner Worthy of the Gospel

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

Philippians 1:21-30 NRSV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beginning with verse 19 we read:

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

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

We Americans can relate to that, can we not?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go Figure!

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

Matthew 18:21-35 NRSV

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

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

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

Like our gospel lesson this morning:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two more children!” I responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wake Up and Love

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

Romans 13:8-14 NRSV

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

 

 

Religion is in the hands of some crazy-ass people

Television preachers with bad hair and dimples

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

Right?

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

Who is God?

Why do bad things happen to good people?

What is salvation?

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

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

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

But here’s the thing:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the Galatians, again Paul writes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a Cross Involved

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For example, we say things like:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I believe Dietrich Bonhoeffer understood this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pastoral Prayer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All Heaven Will Break Loose

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

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Matthew 16:13-20 NRSV

Jesus understands the importance of perception and identity.

He asks the question about himself. Who do people say that I am, and who do you say I am? It is Peter who answers correctly: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

Then Jesus shifts the conversation from his identity to the identity of the church, which is very important for us to consider today. This, by the way, is the first of the two times the word “church” is mentioned in Matthew. The word does not appear in Mark, Luke or John. So, it’s probably a good idea that we pay careful attention here.

What is the church? Who are we? How do people perceive the church? What is our purpose? What makes the church special?

Of course, we love part of Jesus’ answer, especially as it is read in the King James Version: “The Gates of Hell will not prevail against it” (KJV).

In a world where hate crimes are on the rise, wildfires are claiming lives, storms are more violent, COVID still threatens, war is still raging, and all hell seems to be breaking loose, this is indeed some very good news.

The forces of death, despair, and darkness, no matter how great those forces seem to be in our world, will not prevail.

Sickness, disease, war, hate, any power of Hades, a word that is accurately translated “the power of death,” will not have its way with us.

That might be one of the reasons we call the place the church meets each Sunday morning a “Sanctuary.”

Death is moving and hell is coming, as the old hymn says. It threatens us. It frightens us. But together, gathered in this sanctuary as the church, we are reminded that we are safe and secure from all alarm leaning on the everlasting arms.

There’s no way I can count members of my congregations who have told me that they don’t know how people make it in this world without the church.

Because, as we are gathered in community, assembled in our sanctuary with people who are praying with us and for us, worshiping together, singing hymns together, as we make commitments to support and to care for one another, when we hear evil knocking at the door demanding to come in, threatening to do us harm, with nothing to fear and nothing to dread, we respond with utmost confidence:

“What’s that you say? You say it’s darkness and despair out there knocking on our door? You say it’s ‘hell’ out there trying to get in here?”

“Oh, not no. But heaven no!”

“In the name of Jesus, heaven no, you’re not coming in here. Heaven no, you’re not taking away our blessed peace. Heaven no, you’re not getting any of our joy divine.”

The good news is, and those of us who are the church know it, despite the constant onslaughts of Hades, despite the powers that seek to destroy us, the church hangs on, because we know that, ultimately, we will emerge victorious. We hang on knowing that, in the end, love always wins.

We hang on.

We hang on.

We. Hang. On.

How many times have you used that expression to describe the church? “How are things going there at First Christian Church in Lynchburg?”

“Oh, we’re hanging on.”

“It’s tough being church in today’s world, but we are making it.”

“We are surviving.”

Sadly, that describes both the perception and identity of many churches today. They’re in survival mode.

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. For who doesn’t want to be a survivor, especially when all hell is breaking loose?

It’s a struggle, but we’re hanging on. It’s tough, but we’re paying the bills. It’s a fight, but we’re keeping the lights on. COVID knocked us down, but we are getting back on our feet.

Not exactly sure what we think of him yet, but we got a new preacher. He’s not perfect. He’s pretty bad with names. But we seem to be getting by.

But wouldn’t you like to be more than a church that is just getting by? More than just hanging on?

Wouldn’t you like to be a church that is more about making a difference out there, and less about maintaining the status quo in here?

Wouldn’t you like to be a church that is more about bringing some heaven to earth and less about hanging on until we die and go to heaven?

Although we love this place, shouldn’t the church more than “a sanctuary?”

Let’s look again at this passage. About the church, Jesus says: “The gates of hell will not prevail against it.”

Do you hear it? Do you see it?  Jesus says that it’s the gates of Hades, it’s the gates of death, it’s the gates of despair, it’s the gates of darkness, that will not prevail.

Notice that he’s not talking about the gates of the church, the doors of the sanctuary, prevailing against an onslaught from Hades. He’s talking about the gates of Hades that will not prevail against an onslaught from the church!

When Jesus describes the identity of the church, when Jesus talks about who we are, and who we are called to be in this world, he doesn’t talk about a host of evil rounding us. He doesn’t say death is coming and hell is moving. He says that it is the church that is coming, and it is heaven that is moving. It is the host of good that is rounding the host of evil.

By talking about the gates of Hades, Jesus is expecting the church to be on the offensive. Jesus is expecting the forces of truth, light, grace, justice, mercy, empathy, kindness, love and life to be on the move tearing down the gates of death, darkness and despair.

Jesus isn’t talking about all hell breaking loose in our world. Jesus is saying that when we embrace our identity, when we answer the call to be disciples, when we claim our authority, when we fulfill our mission to be the church in our world, all heaven is going to break loose!

Sadly, the perception of the church is often the other way around. We are the ones cowering behind the gates, hiding behind the walls, shrinking behind the stained glass. We are always on the defensive. We are gatekeepers and wall builders. For our own protection and preservation, we decide who can come in and who must stay out.

But Jesus warns us: “what is bound on earth is bound in heaven. And what is loosed on earth is loosed in heaven.”

In other words, too often the church— by taking a defensive posture, with our gates and with our gate keepers, with our walls and our barriers, with our obstacles and our hurdles—the church has been guilty of preventing all heaven from breaking loose in our world.

However, Jesus says we possess the keys, we are given the authority, to open doors, remove barriers, and get rid of obstacles. As the church, we are not gate keepers, deciding who’s in and who’s out; we are gate destroyers. We are not wall builders; we are wall demolishers!

And when we do that, when the church swings wide its doors, when God’s people leave the safety and security of the sanctuary, when we boldly go out into our world to confront the gates of death, darkness and despair, Jesus says, the gates of hell will not prevail, and all heaven will break loose.

But, when we live in a time and place where all hell seems to be breaking loose, with Rev. Dr. King, we must remember that Jesus does not want God’s people to use darkness to defeat darkness or use hate to defeat hate.

I believe Jesus wants God’s people to use the authority entrusted to them to overwhelm deep darkness with illuminating light; overthrow bigoted fear with revolutionary love; overcome deliberate deception with gospel truth; overtake passive attitudes with empathetic mercy, override uncalled-meanness with called-for kindness, and overrun white nationalism with a non-violent determination to work for the liberty and justice of all. Because I believe what our world needs more than anything else is for all heaven to break loose!

There are many ways I am looking forward to breaking loose some heaven with the First Christian Church in Lynchburg.

Next year, as we mark 150 years of serving God and community, in addition to our three celebration dinners, the planning team has already started having a conversation about providing opportunities for service out in the community to compliment each dinner. Together, we will address big problems such as: food-insecurity, affordable housing and illiteracy. And when we tackle these problems head-on, all the while lavishing others with love and grace, then I believe all heaven will break loose!

When we partner with Rabbi Harley of the Agudath Sholom congregation and other faith leaders to offer special opportunities for faith dialogue in the community, such as something called: Theology on Tap; when we demonstrate to the community the holy value of sitting at a table in a public place with people of all faiths and people of no faith, discussing important, albeit difficult matters of faith such as: racism, gun violence, climate change, reproductive justice, and substance abuse. And when we act on these matters with love, then I believe all heaven will break loose!

When we invite and inspire students from our neighboring colleges and universities to join a movement for wholeness in our world, when we harness their passion, their youth, their energy, their love, and their unwavering faith that love always wins, then all heaven is going to break loose!

As advocates for prophetic justice, as part of an anti-racism, pro-reconciling church, we are going to join with the prophets and Jesus to proclaim love for the marginalized and liberation to the oppressed. We will seek to transform racist systems and to change hearts and minds by communicating our faith convictions to policy makers and people in power. We will continue working to fulfill the dream of Dr. King and speak out against the whitewashing of history and the hateful, anti-woke, anti-Christ agenda of racist politicians who embolden others to commit deadly crimes of hate and acts of terror. And when we work for change with love and determination, hell may tremble. Hell may shake, and hell may push back against us; but then, if we don’t moderate our voices or compromise our convictions, all heaven is going to break loose!

We are going to continue to break down the barriers of bigotry that are dividing our nation by partnering with people who truly believe that the greatest thing we can do as human beings is to love our neighbors as ourselves. And when, together, when we pledge to stand up and speak out for the equality, the dignity, and the worth of all people, while celebrating and affirming that the diversity of humankind is the very holy image of God, I believe all heaven is going to break loose.

And as a church committed to unconditional love of God, to the extravagant grace the Christ, and to the unwavering persistence of the Holy Spirit, we will destroy any gate, remove any hurdle, and break down any barrier that any person or institution tries to erect to prevent anyone from coming to the table of the Lord. And when we do this, when we welcome all to the Lord’s table as God has welcomed us, when we encourage all people to answer the call to be a movement for wholeness in our fragmented world, we believe all heaven is going to break loose!

So, let us embrace our identity. Let us claim our authority. And let us answer the call to fulfill the mission to be the church, to move heaven and earth, so the world may know who we are and whose we are: disciples of the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. Amen.

Responding to the Cries

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

Matthew 15:21-28 NRSV

“Inclusion” has always been one of my favorite words. I have proudly worn the word like a badge of honor and have been criticized by the religious culture for being “too inclusive.” Which, by the way, I consider affirmation that I am following the way of Jesus.

However, over time, I have been challenged to re-think the virtue of the word “inclusion.”

For five years or so, I was an Ambassador for an organization called Ainsley’s Angels. I recruited runners to include children and adults with disabilities (another word I have re-thought, preferring now to use “different abilities”) in 5Ks, 10Ks, or marathons, as they rode in what we called “chariots.”

The word “inclusion” was our mantra. Runners included those who could not run in the sport that they love. However, I quickly learned that the runners were not the only ones doing the including. The children and adults with Cerebral Palsy, Traumatic Brain Injury, Angelman Syndrome, Downs Syndrome and other diagnoses which impaired their ability to run, were actually including us in their lives. We even would say: “As runners, we don’t push our riders. They pull us. We are pulled by their positivity and joy across the finish line.”

They included us. They taught us, They challenged us, and they changed us. Perhaps more than anything, by including us in their lives, they taught us the virtue of empathy. How to really put ourselves in the shoes of another.

I believe that if we prayerfully think about the state of our divided nation today, it becomes obvious that what we have here is an empathy crisis. Some people just seem unable, or unwilling, to walk in the steps of another, to really hear, to listen, to truly understand and empathize with the groaning or the cries of others who are tormented by evil. Many are unwilling to leave their safe, protected bubble, where people who don’t look like them or live like them are excluded, to empathize with the cries of others yearning to be free, cries of others in their pursuit of some happiness, some acceptance, some affirmation and love, cries of others begging for a chance to just survive.

I believe this is why Jesus said: “On this, hangs all of the laws and message of the prophets, ‘you should love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matt 22:40). It is as if he was saying, “The entire Biblical witness comes down to this: “Love your neighbor and love your neighbor empathetically—as yourself. Which is to say: “put yourself in the shoes of another.”

I believe this morning’s gospel lesson has much to teach our nation today.

Just then, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.’ 

We hear this cry every day. Yet, many really don’t hear this cry. Many don’t understand this cry, nor want to understand this cry. Many don’t like this cry. Thus, never truly listen to the cry. To privileged ears, it’s just shouting. Strange, foreign shrieks that, frankly, we find offensive.

They are cries of mercy for a child tormented by demonic evil.

They are hopeful cries for a safer, more loving and just world for their child.

They are moral cries for equality.

They are cries for equal access to a quality education, for equal protection of the law, for fair living wages, for access to equitable healthcare.

They are prophetic cries against injustice.

They are cries against racism, against discrimination, against predatory loans, against voter suppression, against Gerrymandering, against oppressive government legislation. They cry out that their black and brown lives matter. For their queer lives to be seen and acknowledged.

Jesus’ first response to the cries is the most common response: it’s one of silence.

We know that response all too well. Silence, just silence.

If we ignore their cries, maybe they’ll go way. Responding to their cries will only stir things up, make things worse, uncover old wounds. And responding might cost us something. It might make us feel guilty. We may have to give up something. We might have to change something.

The second response comes from the disciples. It’s shocking, but not surprising. For it’s as familiar as silence: “Send her away.”

It’s the response of fear: fear of the other; fear that causes defense mechanism to go up; fear that breeds selfishness, anger, and hate.

Then, they blame the victim.

“What about her shouting?” “She keeps shouting.”

“What about the way she is behaving?” “She needs to be more respectable.” “She’s only making things worse.” “She needs to go away, get a life, get a job, go volunteer somewhere.” “She needs to learn some personal responsibility, stop begging for handouts and learn that God only helps those who help themselves.”

“They are what is wrong with this country.” “These snowflakes need to grow up, toughen up and shut up.” “And they need to learn that all lives matter.”

Jesus breaks his silence, but like the disciples, with words that are all too familiar. With words that are culturally popular; not biblically informed:

I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

“We should put our people first. We must look after our own interests. We need to do what is fair for us. We can’t give you a seat at our table, especially if you have needs. If you don’t possess the skills to help yourself, how can you help us?”

Nevertheless, she persisted. The outsider continues to protest. In an act of defiance, she takes a knee.

He answered (again with language culturally accepted; not divinely inspired):

It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.

But the good news is that is not how the story ends.

The foreign mother from Canaan keeps shouting. She keeps fighting. She does not lose heart or hope. She believes that justice will come, truth will prevail, and love will win. She speaks truth to power saying:

Lord, at my house, the dogs eat at the same time we eat. Lord, at my table, there’s room and enough for all, especially for those tormented by evil.

And here is the really good news: Jesus listens to this outsider, and although he was neither Canaanite, nor female nor a parent, Jesus empathizes with this mother from Canaan. Jesus just doesn’t merely include this mother. He is not inviting her to accept what is culturally accepted in his religious bubble of doctrines or traditions. Jesus doesn’t expect her to assimilate to his culture and speak only his language.

Jesus is able and willing to do something that many are unable, or unwilling, to do these days; that is, to put ourselves in the shoes of the other. Jesus is able and willing to see the world as she sees it, bear the pain of it, experience the brokenness of it, sense the heartache and grief of it, feel the hate in it.

And because he is really listening, because he is truly paying attention, because he has what so many are lacking these days, because he has empathy, because Jesus truly hears her cries, I believe Jesus is outraged. I believe Jesus begins to suffer with her, offering her the very best gift that he has to offer, the gift of himself, which is breaking before her and for her.

Jesus loves her. He loves her empathetically, authentically, sacrificially. He loves her unconditionally, deeply, eternally.

And loving like that always demands action.

After hearing her cries, listening to her pleas, empathizing with her pain, becoming outraged by the demons that were tormenting her child, Jesus announces that her daughter will be set free from the evil that was oppressing her.

However, her daughter is not liberated by his love alone. She is liberated from her oppression, both by the love of Jesus, and by the persistent faith of her mother, this mother who would not give up, back down, shut up, or go away.

When we hear the cries of people our culture considers to be outsiders— instead of responding with typical silence; instead of criticizing their shouting, their protesting, their marching and their kneeling; instead of blaming them for their situation— if we will follow the holy command to love them as we love ourselves; if we will listen to them and allow their cries to penetrate our hearts; if we will empathize with them; if we will put ourselves in their shoes; walk in their steps; experience their plight; feel the sting of the hate directed toward them— then a place will suddenly become open at our table for them.

Outsiders become family. The underprivileged become equals from whom we can learn, be led, be challenged, and be changed.

And then, together— because the miracle we need today cannot happen unless more of us come together— together, with the one who is no longer a foreigner, no longer feared, no longer ignored, no longer ridiculed— together, in community, side by side, hand in hand, with faith in God, and with faithful, holy persistence— we will stand up, we will speak out and cry out, and we will fight the demonic evil today that is tormenting any of God’s beloved children.

Of course, there will be great cost involved, for the Bible teaches us that love is always costly. But the cost of refusing to love is greater.

I love reading what happened next (“the rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey used to say). It’s the story of justice coming, truth prevailing, and love winning.

Beginning with verse 29…

After Jesus had left that place, he passed along the Sea of Galilee, and he went up the mountain, where he sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others. They put them at his feet and [without asking any questions about where they were from, what they believed, or what they had to offer] he cured them, so that the crowd was amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel (Matthew 15:29-31).

The words of the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled:

Foreigners were brought to God’s holy mountain, and there, experienced great joy in God’s house of prayer. They received the good news that God’s house of prayer is for all peoples. The good news is that their offerings are accepted, and God gathers the outcast and sits them beside those already gathered (from Isaiah 56).

Amen.

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

Go now and respond to the cries for justice.

Don’t ignore the cries. Don’t try to send them away.

Listen to them, empathize with them, love them.

Make them your sister, your brother.

And then, together— in the name of the God who is Love, the Christ who exemplified love and commanded love and the Holy Spirit who leads us to put our love into action—together, may we stand up, speak out and defeat the demonic evil that is tormenting God’s children, until justice comes, truth prevails, and love wins.

Recognizing Jesus

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A4 Comments

Matthew 14:22-33 NRSV

On Wednesday morning, I got a big surprise in the church office. Carrie said: “Jarrett, someone is out here to see you. They didn’t tell me who they were. They said they wanted to surprise you.”

When I walked out, I saw a man, who seemed to be about my age, standing with a younger man. The older man immediately greeted me with a smile and gave me a great big hug, telling me how good it was to see me again.

Having no idea who was standing before me, I responded the way I suppose most of us would respond: “Oh, it is so good to see you!”  I then shook the young man’s hand who said, “I told Dad that you would not know who we are, after all, it’s been like thirty-seven years since you saw my Dad!”

I shook my head as if to say, “Of course I remember you!” Embarrassed to admit that I really did not have a clue, I began to ask questions: “What are you doing here? Do you live here?” He went on to explain how he was visiting family in town after attending a funeral and that he was still living in Maryland.

Not wanting to confess that I still had no idea who these folks were, I kept asking questions: “How long have you lived in Maryland?” All the while thinking to myself, “Say something, anything, that will help me to recognize you!”

Eventually, he gave enough clues that I finally recognized him! It was David Brooks! In 1986, he was in the youth group the summer I was serving for the first time on a church staff as a youth director! His father was the pastor of the church, and the very first person who encouraged me to consider that God may be calling me to be a pastor!

This wonderful encounter prompted me to ask a serious question as I studied our gospel lesson for today’s sermon. I wonder how many of us would recognize Jesus if Jesus miraculously showed up? How would we know that it is Jesus who is standing in our midst, calling out to us? If we do not recognize him at first, what questions would we have to ask and what clues would he have to give for it to suddenly dawn on us that it is indeed our Lord.

Now I know it’s hard to believe that we would not recognize Jesus if he came to us, but this morning, we read where Peter, one of Jesus’ most prominent disciples, doesn’t seem to recognize Jesus when he comes to him and the other disciples in the middle of a raging storm.

“Lord, if it is you…”

Strange, isn’t it?

“Lord, if it is you…”

It’s strange because we would like to think that if we were in that boat, we would have certainly recognized him, especially if he came walking out to us on some angry waves.

Because that is exactly how we like to picture Jesus. He is the one who comes to us during the storm. He is the one who comes to us when our world turns dark, when the winds of life are against us, when the waves of life are crashing down upon us.

His is the presence that calms our fears, quiets our anxiety, dispels our despair, soothes our souls.

Jesus speaks familiar, comforting words to Peter and the disciples, “Take heart, it is I, do not be afraid.”

We know the sound of that voice. We recognize those words—the voice of the good shepherd coming to rescue his flock from danger.

But here’s the thing: It is after Jesus speaks those familiar, assuring words, Peter still doesn’t seem convinced that it is Jesus, asking, “Lord, if it is you…”

So, how will Peter know? How will Peter recognize that it is Jesus standing before him and not some made-up ghost of his imagination? What clues does Jesus have to give Peter for Peter to know that he is indeed Jesus his Lord?

Are you ready?

“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

What? Is Peter serious?

I wonder why Peter didn’t say: “If it is you, calm this storm.” “If it is you, climb up in this boat with us and hold us, protect us, and take care of us.”  “If it is you, give us some peace.” “If it is you, comfort us and assure us that everything’s gonna be alright.”

After all, isn’t this how we recognize Jesus? “Jesus, if it is you, come into our church and hold our hands.” “Come and tell us that the storm will be soon be over.” “Come and assure us that somehow, someway, some day everything’s gonna be alright and all we have to do is trust in you.”

For that’s how we recognize Jesus. Right?

But that’s not how Peter recognizes Jesus.

Peter says: “Jesus, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

“Jesus, if it is you, command me to risk my life. Jesus, if it is you, command me to get up and get out of this boat and venture into a dark world.”[1]

“Lord, if it is you, command me to put it all on the line. Lord, if it is you, command me to walk into the storm, face the waves, brave the wind, and take on the night.”

It is as if Peter cannot recognize Jesus unless this voice commands him to literally throw caution into the wind and risk everything. Peter cannot recognize Jesus unless Jesus calls him to do something dangerous, something selfless, something sacrificial, something many in the world would consider to be foolish.

“Lord, if it is you, call out to me like you did that day when I heard your voice for the very first time, that day I was minding my own business, that day I was there standing in my own little world by the lake with my brother Andrew with a fishing net in my hand. Command me to drop my net, drop everything, leave my family, leave my job, and all forms of security to venture forth with you on a risky journey called discipleship.”

“Call out to me like you did that day when you sent me out into the world to proclaim that good news had come for the poor and the oppressed for the kingdom of heaven had come near. Call out to me like you did on that day you commanded me to do risky, demanding, world-changing things like healing the sick, raising the dead, restoring lepers back into the community and casting out the demonic forces of evil.”

“Lord, if it is you, warn me again about certain persecution I will face if I follow you. Tell me again about the trials I will face, the great tribulation I will endure. Lord if it is you, command me to love all people, although doing so will certainly upset some of my friends and family members. Jesus if it is you, remind me that if I love, live and serve like you that there will always be people, most likely religious people, that will try to stop me. Say something that will remind me that if I follow your voice, there will be a cross involved, as the powers-that-be will try to silence that voice.”

“Lord, if it is you, command me to get out of this pew, (I mean this boat). No, I mean these pews, to walk courageously into the darkness. Lead us to be the church beyond these four walls, and then, Jesus, and only then, we will recognize you.”

“Command us to stand up to racism, sexism, ableism, xenophobia, homophobia and transphobia. Command us to pray for the enemies of the beautiful diversity of humanity created in the image of God. Command us to confront the hate and darkness in our world with love and light knowing that only love can drive out hate and only light can overcome the darkness.”[2]

“Lord, if it is you, command us to do something that seems impossible. Command us to build a community where all people have access to affordable housing, fair living wages, equitable education and available healthcare.”

“Oh Jesus, we know it’s not going to be easy. At times, we will be afraid. For walking with you like this will not be something that comes naturally for us. We don’t like taking risks, so of course we’ll have our doubts. We may even have moments when we will take our eyes off you and think only about saving ourselves. We will make mistakes.”

“But Lord, we trust in your grace, and we know your grace will never forsake us.”

Several chapters later, we read Jesus reminding Peter and the rest of his disciples: “Do you want to see me? Do you want to recognize me?  Do you want to encounter me? Do you want to know me? Then feed the hungry. And it will be like you are feeding me.

Give drink to the thirsty. Clothe the naked. Visit those who are imprisoned, and you will be doing it to me.

This is how you will recognize me:

When you do it to the least of these; when you deny yourself; when you empty yourself; when you throw caution into the wind; when you give yourself away, when you do something that others consider to be unnatural and impossible; when you truly love your neighbor as yourself; when you forgive seventy times seven; when you stand up for the dignity, the worth and the rights of the those who are marginalized, even by some of your friends, even your so-called Christian friends; when you make it clear, to even members of your own family, that your faith will no longer allow you to tolerate hate; when you make a commitment to live modestly so you can give generously in a world that worships wealth; when you pray and work for peace in a world that only responds to threats of. violence; when you do these things… there I will be.”

My fear is that the church has watered down the gospel for its own comfort. And by diluting who the Christ commands us to be, by making him up to be some ghost of our own imagination, when people come to church looking for Jesus, he’s nowhere to be found.

I am afraid we have traded the authentic good news to proclaim to the poor for some unrecognizable, bogus news to appease the privileged. “Professing a faith,” as Jonathan Martin says, “where emperors feel comfortable and oppressed people feel unsafe.”

We have made church more about security and salvation and less about self-denial and sacrifice; more about receiving a blessing and less about being a blessing; more about affirming what is culturally acceptable and less about doing what is biblically mandated; more about keeping account of the sins of our neighbors and less about loving our neighbors; more about ignoring evil and less about confronting evil, calling evil by name, exorcising evil; more about worshiping Jesus and less about following Jesus; more about dying and going to heaven one day and less about living for Jesus and going to those places Jesus calls us to go today, places we may not want to go—dark, dangerous, dreadful places.[3]

Do you want to see him? Do you want to recognize his voice? Perhaps, more importantly, do you want others to see Jesus through our church? Then, let us embrace the authentic good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ in all of its fullness, all of its delight, and all of its demand.

For the storms are raging. Winds of hate are howling. Waves of violence have been emboldened. Each day, our world seems to grow darker.

And he’s coming toward us. Do you see him? Do you recognize his voice? He calls out to us with words that both comfort and challenge, words that calm and command.

[1] This point inspired by a sermon by William Willimon, How Will You Know if it is Jesus? August 2005.

[2] Words of Martin Luther King, Jr.

[3] This line is from the writings of Henri J. M. Nouwen

Let’s Overdo It!

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year A6 Comments

I might as well address the elephant in the room right here and now from the get-go.  The rumors are true. Rev. Mooty was right last week when he said: “I don’t know Jarrett, except that he is an eastern North Carolina boy.” Which he said was “a good thing.” And “that he was originally a Baptist.” Then, with tongue in cheek, he said he had “always heard Baptists made good Christians!”

So, allow me to use my first sermon to tell you how I got to this place where I am standing today, behind this Open and Affirming pulpit wearing a stole with chalice and a St. Andrew’s cross.

Although there many types of Baptists, I sometimes unfairly place them into two categories.

First,  there’s the hard-shell variety. These are the ones who don’t drink, dance, cuss or chew or go with girls or boys who do…at least not before Noon on Sunday.

Then there’s the category of which I was a part: those of the more moderate persuasion.

“Pastor, that doesn’t look like sweet tea in your glass.”

“Everything in moderation,” I used to respond.

“Let’s be Christian, but let’s not get too crazy with it.” 

 “Follow Jesus but don’t get fanatical about it.” 

“Embrace the gospel, but don’t go overboard with it.”

“Be a disciple, but don’t overdo it.”

“Moderation is the key to everything in life,” I was taught, especially when it comes to pastoring a church.

“Don’t upset the status quo. Don’t disturb the peace. Don’t stir things up.”  

“Moderation” is the key to playing it safe. Moderation helps one avoid conflict, in the community and in the church. Moderation keeps your congregation comfortable, satisfied, unchanged. Thus, moderation helps pastors pay their mortgages, get their kids through college, and fund their pension. Moderation makes for more pleasant church business meetings and uneventful board meetings. I learned very quickly that when you preach moderate sermons, you don’t have to spend your entire Monday smoothing all the feathers you ruffled in the congregation on Sunday morning!

Moderation is the key to survival in this divisive time. So, it’s best to avoid saying anything that someone may interpret as being “political,” especially from the pulpit.  

But then I started reading the likes of Barton Stone and Thomas and Alexander Campbell.

These Scottish-Americans had the audacity to preach revolutionary messages that called for a return to taking the message of Jesus seriously. They courageously denounced all creeds and confessions and radically committed themselves to following Jesus at all costs. And in so doing they were continually bucking the system, going against the doctrinal grains of the Church and defying the societal norms of the culture.

They preached and supported politics against slavery. They preached for the inclusion of all Christians at the communion table. And they openly criticized mainline Christianity and anything that didn’t jive with Jesus. 

And of course, the mainstream powers-that-be pushed back. They said: “Barton and Alexander, you’re taking this too far.” “You’re out of bounds.” “You need to tone it down, slow your roll, pump the brakes, moderate.”

But they would not bow down, back down or slow down. They refused to compromise. And for so doing, they were excommunicated by the Church and labeled heretics, radicals, rabble-rousers and fools. They were called every name in the book, but one. 

They were never called “moderate.”

During this same time period, other prophetic voices like William Lloyd Garrison echoed Stone and Campbell’s revolutionary opposition to the injustice of slavery.

Garrison wrote:

I am aware, that many object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause for severity?

 I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. 

On this subject, I do not wish to think, or speak, or write, with moderation. 

No! no! Tell a man whose house is on fire, to give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hand of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; –

– so don’t you urge me to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a single inch — AND I WILL BE HEARD.

After studying the forbearers of the Disciples movement, one day a verse I read in the first chapter of Ephesians nearly jumped off the page.

 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 (Ephesians 1:8).

“Lavished.” Don’t you like that? When I think of all my shortcomings and failures, I think: “Thank God that God doesn’t give grace in moderation. Praise the Lord that God just doesn’t give me a sensible amount of mercy, a reasonable amount of forgiveness, a rational amount of love. Praise God that when it comes to grace, God lavishes.

When we took our two children to the beach or to the pool when they were younger, Lori was always in charge of the sunscreen. And when it came to protecting her babies, she would always lavish them with the sunscreen lotion. The poor things would be covered in white lotion in from head to toe. 

And if I ever said, “Baby, don’t you think you overdid it a little with the sunscreen? Moderation, baby. Moderation is the key.” 

She’d look at me with this look of disappointment and say: “You must not love them like I do!”

When it comes to covering God’s children with grace, Paul says that God lavishes. When it comes to love, God loves all God’s children, thus God overdoes it.  

Disciples like to say that where the Bible speaks, we speak, and the entire Biblical witness testifies to this lavish grace. It is a grace that is extravagant, excessive, over-the-top, overdone.

Cain kills his brother Able, thus Cain himself deserved to die. But what did God do? God lavishes Cain. Cain is exiled from the community because of his actions, but God faithfully promises to go with him, mark him with grace and protect his life (Genesis 4).

Moses kills an Egyptian, breaking one of the Ten Commandments. But God chooses that murderer to reveal those commandments to the world and to lead the Israelites out of bondage into the Promised Land (Exodus 2).

David not only commits adultery, but kills the husband of his mistress (2 Samuel 11). Yet, Matthew proudly announces David in Jesus’ genealogy (Matthew 1).

The Psalmist proclaims that the Good Shepherd doesn’t just fill our cups, the Lord overdoes it as our cups runneth over.

The good news is, when it comes to grace, when it comes to love, God lavishes. God always seems to overdo it. 

The story of Jesus’ first miracle says it all. When the wine gave out at a wedding party, what does Jesus do? He turns water into more wine. But not just some water into a little bit of wine. He makes, according to John’s estimate, 180 gallons of the best-tasting wine they ever had.

And considering that most traditional wedding parties at the time were attended by 50 or so guests, it is shockingly obvious that Jesus really overdid it! There’s nothing moderate about 180 gallons of wine!

Then, there are all those stories that he told.

The father of the prodigal son doesn’t just welcome home his returning son. The father lavishes the son. The father overdoes it: “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 drink and have one extravagant party!”

It wasn’t that the Good Samaritan stopped and helped the wounded man in the ditch. It was the way he lavished the man. It was the way he overdoes it by pouring expensive oil on his wounds, putting the wounded man in his car, taking the man to the hospital and telling the doctors, “Forget about filing insurance! Here’s all my credit cards, my debit card, 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!”

And this morning we read where 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. Darkness was setting in.

The moderate disciples said: “Let’s be prudent, Jesus, and send them back to town so they find themselves something to eat.”

But Jesus radically takes all they have, blesses it, breaks it, and in an act that can only be described as revolutionary, feeds 5,000 people!

But the story doesn’t end there. They took up what was left over, and 12 baskets were filled. Once again, Jesus overdid it. Jesus took it too far. Jesus lavished.

The good news is that when disciples are willing to listen to Jesus, people in need— people who are hungry, poor, oppressed, marginalized, vulnerable, and hurting— don’t only get what they need. They always get more. They are lavished.

So, as followers of Jesus, how do we live?  Are we moderate with grace? Are we passive with justice? Are we subtle with kindness? Are we modest with mercy? Are we restrained with the good news? 

Afraid of upsetting our moderate friends and family, are we discreet with the extravagance of our love that sets an elaborate, excessive, overdone, and yes, very liberal table of grace every Sunday morning for all people without exceptions?

Or do we truly believe that the greatest commandment is to love the God of love with ALL of our heart, soul, mind and strength and our neighbors as ourselves?

Because the truth is that the church has been embarrassingly and tragically guilty of doing tremendous damage to the world, as well as to the mission of Christ, by loving others in moderation. 

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had something to say about that from the isolation of a Birmingham jail when he said:

The great stumbling block…in the stride toward freedom is not the… Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice…

The late John Lewis shared King’s frustration when he said:

Followers of the One, who when it came to love, never did anything in moderation, can no longer passively wait for a more just and equitable world, but we must be willing to stir up some holy trouble.

This past week I received these powerful words of encouragement from The Reverend Cyd Cowgill:

This is why I have answered the call to be a Disciple and to stand with this congregation in the spirit of Stone, the Campbells, and prophetic voices like Garrison, Lewis and Cowgill, around a table that has been lavishly prepared for all people, joining a group of Disciples dedicated to sharing the good news to this city, region and world: 

That when it comes to the revolutionary Word of God, 

when it comes to the boundless love of God, 

when it comes to the extravagant grace of God, 

when it comes to the prophetic justice of God,

when it comes to the radical inclusion of God, 

when it comes to the excessive and socially unacceptable hospitality of God,

when it comes to fighting for a world where every life has equal value, when it comes to standing and preaching and fighting against Christian White Nationalism, racism, sexism, sick and harmful religion, meanness, misinformation, and all types of bigotry, 

We will not compromise. We will not bow down, stand down or even slow down. We will not moderate. We will not equivocate. We will not excuse. We will not retreat a single inch. WE WILL BE HEARD!