Category: Sermons Year A

Alternative Gospel

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

new-coke

Isaiah 58 NRSV

It’s good times in Atlanta, Georgia today. But times have not always been good. I want to begin this morning with a story from some of the darkest days of what is perhaps Atlanta’s most famous corporation.

Some of you remember when the Coca-Cola Company made the unfortunate decision to change the formula of its flagship soft drink introducing “New Coke” back in 1985.

What prompted the change in formula were these “blind taste tests” that revealed consumers preferred the sweeter taste of Pepsi over Coke.

Coke sales were down, so these geniuses went to work and “New Coke” was born to completely replace the original Coke.

It wasn’t long, though, before the public rose up and demanded to bring back the original formula, or what became known as Classic Coke.

And even Bill Cosby (who still had his clout in 1985) and a cartoon named Max Headroom could not prevent one of the largest marketing failures in world history.

I am not sure when this exact thing happened to the original Word of God that was fully revealed by our Lord and announced by the prophets before him, but it happened. It’s like someone, or some group did some sort of blind taste test that revealed that people preferred a faith that had a much sweeter taste. Perhaps it happened in the very beginning, when Adam and Eve chose the sweetness of that forbidden fruit, choosing to live in the creation of their terms, instead of on God’s terms.

So these geniuses went to work, and this brand new faith was born to completely replace the original faith—to make it sweeter, more palatable, more drinkable.

However, unlike New Coke, the general public did not rise up and demand to bring back the original formula, or what we might call “classic faith.” In fact, most seem to prefer the re-imagined, re-engineered, and re-manufactured faith.

So, one might argue that the reformulation of this “new” gospel has been the largest marketing success in world history. It has been so successful in North America that the majority of folks believe that this new sweeter gospel is actually the “classic gospel.”

For example, a recent survey by Bill McKibben reveals that three-quarters of Americans believe the Bible teaches that “God helps those who help themselves.” However, that statement is from Benjamin Franklin, a Deist, which means he did not even believe God was working in the world. It is not from the Bible. “God helps those who help themselves” is in fact one of the most unbiblical ideas. It is Jesus who made the dramatic counter-assertion: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

But, we prefer Ben Franklin don’t we? Easier to swallow. Taste sweeter. And it doesn’t sound so foolish.

But the Apostle Paul warned us that the wisdom of God is understood as “foolishness” to the world.

But we in the world don’t like to be foolish, do we? So we’ve embraced this new, sweeter, less foolish formula.

We’ve replaced “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” with: “Do unto others as they do unto you.”

We’ve replaced “Turn the other cheek” with: “When somebody hits you, you hit back harder.”

“Love your enemies” has become: “Love the deserving.”

The simple commands to “feed the hungry” and “clothe the naked” have become the more qualified, conditional, yet sweeter commands to: “feed and clothe those who will pray with you, or at least attend a Bible Study or a worship service with you. Feed and clothe others, but give preferential treatment to those who share your faith.”

We’ve replaced “The last shall be first and the first shall be last” with “We must look out for number one.”

“Love keeps no account of wrongdoing” has been replaced with “love the sinner but hate the sin” (and of course everyone knows to hate the sin we just have to keep account of that sin).

“For whosoever welcomes little children welcomes me” has been replaced by “children should be seen and not heard, especially in a worship service.”

“Welcome the stranger” has been replaced with “It’s always best to err on the side of safety.”

We’ve replaced “In Christ there is no longer Jew nor Greek” with “Oh, there is most definitely ‘us’ and ‘them’” (and there’s way too many of them).

There is “neither slave nor free” has be replaced with “the free should have the religious liberty to treat others as second-class.”

There is “no longer Male nor Female” and other verses that elevate women like “Wives and husbands should submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” has been replaced with “Somebody needs to man up and wear the pants in the family.”

Ashamed of the gospel, we’ve replaced it with something sweeter to the taste, something more popular to the culture, more drinkable to the majority, and less foolish to our friends and family.

And we wonder why the world grows ever darker.

What we need today is for someone to rise up and demand to bring back the original formula, the original faith of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, of Moses and Prophets, the classic, old-time religion of Jesus and the Apostles. This country needs someone to stand up for the the true, indisputable, irrefutable Word of God.

We need someone like Isaiah, the prophet Jesus quoted the most, to stand up and shout out and hold nothing back! We need someone to lift up their voice like a trumpet and announce to the people their rebellion. We need for someone to call it out for the sin that it is. We need someone to tell the God’s honest truth: “The church has been conned. The people have been played. The clergy duped. They have been seduced into accepting an alternative faith, a fake-news that is nothing like the original good news.”

Hear again these words from Isaiah (I am reading from the contemporary Message translation):

They’re busy, busy, busy at worship, and love studying all about me.

Sound familiar? Of course it does. It’s the the sweeter gospel, it’s more-pleasing church. But when did Jesus ever say, “Worship me, study me?”

He never said that. That’s Alternative Jesus. That’s fake-news Jesus. True Jesus, Original Jesus, Classic Jesus never said, “study me or worship me.” No, he said something much more radical. He said, “follow me.” And not only “follow me,” but “deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me.”

Isaiah continues:

To all appearances they’re a nation of right-living people—law-abiding, God-honoring. They ask me, ‘What’s the right thing to do?’ and love having me on their side.

We certainly do, don’t we? We love saying: “one nation under God.” We love singing: “God bless America.” And we love having: “In God We Trust” on our money and the Ten Commandments in our courts.

Isaiah keeps preaching:

But they also complain…

Oh boy, do we complain! We whine in the darkness. We blame, and we scapegoat. It’s us verses them.

So rise up and preach it Isaiah. Stand up! Shout out! Hold nothing back!

Why do we fast and you don’t look our way? Why do we humble ourselves and you don’t even notice?

Why is the nation so divided? Why is the church struggling to survive? Why is the world so dark?

Well, here’s why [says the Lord]: The bottom line on your ‘fast days’ is profit.

In other words, your worship is more concerned with bringing in money than bringing in the lost. Or as Jesus said, “the house of prayer has become a den of thieves.”

You drive your employees much too hard. [You are against fair wages.]

You fast, but at the same time you bicker and fight. You fast, but you swing a mean fist.

You worship, you attend Sunday School, you might even teach Sunday School, but you gossip, and you tear others down. You go to church, but you say things and do things that do not build up the church.

So the kind of fasting you do won’t get your prayers off the ground.

Do you think this is the kind of fast day I’m after: a day to show off humility?

To put on a pious long face and parade around solemnly in black?

Do you call that fasting, a fast day that I, God, would like?

This is the kind of fast day I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts.

What I’m interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad…

With absolutely no strings attached, especially religious strings!

But God, this doesn’t have a sweet taste at all. This is just foolish. We prefer something easier to drink, another formula, a new faith. Might we just remember, study the classic faith? Read about the original covenant? Must we actually do it?

Yet, when we look around at our world, all is so very dark. Everything seems to be headed in the wrong direction. The road before us is so uncertain. Something must change.

Then, don’t just remember this or study this, says the Lord.

Do this, [do this and the good news is:] the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once. Your righteousness will pave your way. The God of glory will secure your passage. Then when you pray, God will answer. You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am.’

Do you really want to bring light to the darkness? Then do this:

Get rid of unfair practices… [Get rid of this new gospel created by selfish, sinful minds that send the poor away empty.]

Quit blaming victims, quit gossiping about other people’s sins. Be generous with the hungry and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out.

And then your lives will begin to glow in the darkness, your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight. I will always show you where to go. I’ll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—firm muscles, strong bones.

You’ll be like a well-watered garden, a gurgling spring that never runs dry. You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past.

You’ll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again.

The answer to the cries of this world is right here. It is the original covenant. It is the classic faith. It is the true gospel. It is the irrefutable, indisputable Word of God. And we need to rise up and demand to bring it back.

Guess Where We’re Going

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

places-to-go-people-to-see-things-to-do-78835745

Matthew 4:12-23 NRSV

Earlier this month, as I preached on the Baptism of Jesus, I said that what happened at Jesus’ baptism with the spirit of God descending upon Jesus like a dove can happen to you and to me. Somehow, some mysterious way, I believe God is continually revealing God’s holy self to us. We just need to pay attention.

Sometimes we call events like this “epiphanies.” All of a sudden our hearts are startled and awakened to the miraculous presence of God in our lives. And I truly believe that if we pay attention, if we keep our eyes, our ears and our hearts open to the possibility of it, this is something that we can experience every day.

Because all of life is a gift of God’s grace, as Frederick Buechner, one of my favorite preachers, says, “The sacred moments, the moments of miracle, are often the everyday moments.”

But here’s what I believe can be problematic: when it happens, when we catch a glimpse of the sheer grace of it, the absolute divinity of it, the contentment that we experience can be so comforting, the peace we feel is so beyond our understanding, and yet so real, that we may be tempted to overlook the primary purpose of all such “epiphanies.”

This purpose becomes clear when we remember Jesus experienced it at his baptism, at the very beginning of his ministry. In fact, the entire biblical witness proclaims the purpose behind every revelation. When God reveals God’s self to us, it is always in the form of a summons—a call. When God reaches out and reaches in, when God swoops and descends, God is always saying: “I have places for you to go, truth for you to tell, things for you to make right, and I have people for you to set free.”

In an ordination sermon installing Methodists who had answered the call of God to the ministry, William Willimon recounts the biblical witness:

Moses was a renegade fugitive in Midian. He had killed a man back in Egypt and he’s hiding out, working for his father-in-law. Suddenly, without warning, a bush bursts into flame. And a voice says to Moses, “I am the Lord your God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, I have heard the cry of my people. I have seen their oppression. I have come down to deliver them…Now, guess where you’re going?”

Little boy Samuel was asleep in the middle of the night when he hears his name being called. He’s has to be called three times before he gets the message. He hears a voice: “The house of Eli will be cast down for ignoring my commands, and the voice of God will be spoken to a new generation. Now guess where you’re going?”

Young Isaiah really didn’t want to go to church that Sunday but his mother made him. He never did get anything out of the sermon. He couldn’t stand the music. Then, without warning, the heavens opened, and there’s this vision and this voice. “Whom shall I send?  Who will go for us?”

Isaiah says, “Not me! I need to be honest with you God. I’ve got a lot of baggage from my freshman year at college. I have done some things I shouldn’t have done. I’ve said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

The voice says, “Perfect! Just the sort of honesty, just the kind of truth-telling that my people need!  Guess where you’re going?”[i]

It is no mere coincidence that all of the Gospels depict Jesus as we meet him in today’s Gospel—as one who is always on a journey, always going someplace, always on the way to liberate someone, to challenge someone in power, to defend someone vulnerable, to feed someone hungry, to heal someone sick and forgive someone who’s sinned, always on the move.

I’m afraid many of us have erroneously learned along the way that this thing we call faith is something that we possess instead of some road we travel, some place we go, some act of justice we do, some people we liberate. We have reduced our faith to merely some sort of personal relationship or some type of heavenly transaction, a divine stamp of approval or some kind of Get-of-Hell-Free card.

I wonder what in our world taught us that? Think about it. What in this world benefits when our faith is watered-down, lukewarm, innocuous? What is strengthened and emboldened on this earth if our faith is understood as merely a placid personal relationship between us and God instead of a life-giving, world-changing, justice-seeking journey? The forces of demonic evil benefit. The powers of darkness are strengthened. The voices of selfishness and greed, hate and bigotry, racism and xenophobia are emboldened.

It’s popular among Christians to talk about how we “invited Jesus into our hearts.” However, living in a sinful and unjust world where the first are always first and the last are always last, when we invited into our hearts the Jesus who preached the very opposite, what on earth did we think he was going to do when he got in there? Just come inside and relax? Maybe take a little a contented nap? Just stay with us, comfort, protect and assure us until one day we die and go to heaven?

We seldom understand that our faith is not something we possess in our hearts, but a journey with the Christ who is always on the move going to those places we would rather not go, to those places that are likely to break our hearts— when we challenge the selfish culture, when we speak truth to power, liberate the oppressed, defend the vulnerable, feed the hungry, heal the sick, forgive the sinner, and welcome the foreigner, regardless of the faith or the ethnicity of that foreigner. Thus, faith in Christ is always a risky venture, a dangerous mission, an unpopular march to places that are dark, despairing, and dreadful, to places that we would not go unless the Holy One God’s self was leading us there.

And if our faith is something else, something silent in the face of oppression, something static in the face of suffering, something stagnant in the face of injustice, then I believe we should question whether Jesus is truly in our hearts.

Like in nearly all of the stories of Jesus, Jesus is on the move in today’s lesson. He is walking along a road when he sees some fishermen literally minding their own business. Then, out of nowhere, comes the call: “I am about to start a revolution that will reveal that every man, woman, boy and girl in this world are God’s beloved children, and I am here looking for a few ordinary people like you help me! “Now guess where you’re going?”

And Jesus took them places that they would have never gone by themselves.

Sometimes, we Bible-believing church people have our faith completely backwards. We say things like, “Since I took Jesus into my heart” or “Since I got saved or got Jesus.” But that’s not the way God works. That’s not the biblical story. The story—the story of Moses, Samuel, Isaiah, James, John, Peter, Andrew and the story of you and me—is that we do not take Jesus anywhere—it is Jesus who takes us places. We don’t get Jesus. Jesus gets us.

Everyone is here this morning because you were called to be here. For some of you, your summons to this place was a dramatic and life-changing experience. For others, the summons has been a lifetime of gentle prodding and persuading. However, for every last one of you, God has reached out, reached down, reached in, and grabbed you. You have been called. You have been summoned.

In fact, God is summoning each of us right to go somewhere, to love someone as we love ourselves, to speak out on the behalf of someone who is being oppressed, to welcome and to embrace someone, to be a sister or a brother to someone who is searching for a home. We just need to keep our eyes, ears and hearts open to listen and look for the epiphany.

In reflecting on epiphanies that stir his soul, move him to tears, Frederick Buechner writes:  ut. And the reality is, that God is ing called to his journey, to this faithn.  is something

“You never know what may cause them. The sight of the Atlantic Ocean can do it, or a piece of music, or a face you’ve never seen before. A pair of somebody’s old shoes can do it. … You can never be sure. But of this you can be sure. Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is summoning you to where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go next.”[ii]

It is not an easy journey. There is great cost involved. Because of this journey, we will lose friends. Disappointed family members will try to tell us our faith should be kept private. And like the first disciples, we are prone to wander off course. In the face of great adversity, even persecution, we are liable to deny, even betray our Lord. But thank God that God does call us to be perfect on this journey. God, through Christ, only calls us to step out in faith and follow.

The good news is that, even now, Jesus is once more revealing himself, and Jesus is on the move! He has places to go, truth to be told, things to make right, and people to set free, and he wants to take this entire church with him! Now, guess where we’re going!

[i]Inspired and adapted from: Guess Where You’re Going,  A sermon at the Service of Celebration and Installation by William H. Willimon, Bishop, The North Alabama Conference of the United Methodist Church, November 14, 2004

[ii] Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark, 1993.

Disappointment at Christmas

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year ALeave a comment

christmas-disappointment-7159866

Matthew 11:2-11 NRSV

It’s the Third Sunday of Advent. The days are getting shorter. The nights are growing longer. The last month of the year is a darker, colder place to live. And it is in this cold December darkness that we are all a little more sensitive, a little more attuned to the real darkness and chill of our world. The world around us appears even more fragile than usual, more harsh, and more broken.

Human service organizations report record number of volunteers and donations in the days leading up to Christmas. It’s really kind of silly when you think about it. The homeless are still homeless in July. The cold are even colder come February. Nursing home residents won’t be any younger when March arrives, and the hospitals are filled with the sick every month of the year. But at Christmas, our hearts become a little more tender, and they tend to bleed just a little bit more.

And here lies our great December disappointment. Our holiday awareness of the world’s plight is the great paradox of Christmas. If God so loved the world that God was willing to become flesh and be Emmanuel, God with us, why is there so much pain and suffering in our world? Why is there so much poverty, sickness, injustice, and pure evil? Why is this world so cold, so dark?

Death, divorce, disease, destitution, desperation, despair—darkness—it envelops us like a December Arctic blast.

If God so loved the world that God was willing to become flesh and dwell among us, if Christmas really occurred, if God truly came, if good news actually happened, why is this world still so cold? Why are we left disappointed?

I believe these are the questions with which John the Baptizer struggled.

As we mentioned last week, John is the very first character in the Christmas drama. He is the one of whom Jesus says: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than [he]”. He is the one who had given his entire life to God, who had very faithfully and courageously lived out his purpose in life preparing the world for the advent of the Messiah. His important role in salvation history had been prophesied years earlier by the prophets Isaiah and Malachi. And he fulfilled this role with utmost humility and commitment.

When people felt led to worship him, John quickly said, “No, for there is one who is coming who is more powerful than me, for I am not even worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.”

And what does he get? What is his reward?

Imprisonment. He is locked up in a cold, dark cell waiting for the Romans to cut off his head.

Talk about Christmas paradoxes!

“Wait one minute!” John must have thought. “This can’t be happening! Not to me! Not to the one who was chosen by God to prepare the hearts of people for the Advent of the Messiah! I have been so faithful, so courageous. I have sacrificed, and I have given my all. And just look at me now! Look what I have gotten! Look where I am! My world could not be more cold, more dark!  Something is just not right about this.”

Can you relate?

I can.

So, there, in prison, enveloped in disappointment, John sent word asking Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come?” Are you the messiah? Are you the one about whom I have been preaching all these years?

“Or are we to wait for another?” Someone who is even more powerful. Someone who will finally come and set this world straight. For if you are truly the Messiah, why is my world so dark? Why am I sitting in prison about to lose my head? Why do I feel the way that I feel? Why am I so disappointed? Something is just not right with this picture. Jesus, I want, I need some answers!”

Jesus answered John alright. Just not the way he hoped he might answer. Jesus told his disciples to “Go and tell John what you hear and see. The blind receive their sight. The lame walk. The lepers are cleansed. the deaf hear. The dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

What is Jesus telling John by pointing to these signs of the Messiah’s coming?

Well, I know what he is not telling John the Baptist. As one who has read about John ten chapters earlier in Matthew and as one who knows something of the disappointment of this world, I know that Jesus was not telling John what John wanted to hear.

Jesus was not saying, “Yes, John, I am the one. I am the Messiah of the world who is coming with my ax in hand to cut down the Romans and throw them into the fire! With my winnowing fork, I am coming to clear the threshing floor and burn your enemies with an unquenchable fire!

So Cuz, you just sit tight, because Christmas is coming and things are about to get straightened out! Somebody’s coming to town and he’s making a list! He’s checking it twice! So all who are against you, why, they better watch out!”

No, Jesus said, “I am he. I am Christmas. However, Christmas is not carrying an ax and a winnowing fork and harsh words of condemnation. I’m carrying bread for the hungry. I am carrying water for the thirsty, and I’m carrying words of forgiveness for the sinners.”

The one who is more powerful than John comes, but this powerful one comes with a different type of power: a selfless, self-expending power. He comes to rule not with an iron fist, but with outstretched arms. He comes to love and to save and to die. The Messiah goes into villages, not to burn them down with unquenchable fire. But goes into villages to eat at the table with sinners, to give hope to the poor, to bring wholeness to the broken, and to give life to the dead.” This one who is more powerful than John comes as a suffering servant.

From his cold, dark prison cell, John the Baptist heard about this so he sent word inquiring, “Are you the one? Are you the Messiah who is to come?  Or are we to look for another?”  John’s whole ministry had been pointing to Jesus, saying that he is the one. Now John asks Jesus, “Are you really the one?”

John preached, “The Messiah is coming!  He’s going to fix everything.  He’s going to straighten the whole thing out. He’s going to finally set things right.  But now the Messiah had come. And John the Baptist is in prison. And he’s about to have his head served up on a silver platter.

Anticipation of the Messiah has now met the reality of the Messiah.  And for John, and if we are honest, for even us today, there is some disappointment.

And all John was told was to look for these signs of his coming. And although these signs were not what he expected, and certainly not what he wanted, miraculously, John will soon learn, as we all are still learning, that these signs were all he truly needed.

And you know what I am talking about! The good news is: Jesus the Messiah of the world has come to this earth as the light of the world to save us all from Satan’s power, and there are signs all around us that prove it!

The blind receive their sight—you know people who are physically blind, yet they can see God more distinctly, see hope more clearly, and see love more purely than anyone with 20/20 vision.

The lame walk—you know people in wheelchairs who are more whole, more together, more able, and more gifted than some world-class professional athletes.

Lepers are cleansed—you know people who have been demeaned, degraded and dehumanized, yet they have more of a sense of belonging, of distinction, of purpose, of eminence, than royalty.

The deaf hear—you know some hearing impaired who are more attentive, more alert and more keenly aware of this miraculous gift we call Christmas than folks who can hear a pin drop.

The dead are raised—you know people who on their deathbeds were more conscious, more hopeful and more alive than some couples on their wedding day.

And the poor have good news brought to them—And we all know folks who do not have a dime to their name, yet they are richer, more satisfied and better-off than some of the wealthiest people we know.

And there was once an old preacher named John sitting in a cold, dark Roman prison cell, about to lose his head, who, although he did not always realize it, was more liberated, more unfettered and unshackled, and more free than any new born baby!

And then there are the small signs of Christmas that are all around us—in a friend’s or a spouse’s undeserved forgiveness; in the innocent love of a child; in a warm embrace; in a friend’s thoughtful visit, encouragement, empathy and love; in the breaking of bread, in the sharing of a cup.

And these signs can also be seen through serving a hot meal to a stranger; giving a coat or providing shelter to the cold and undeserving; visiting the lonely in a nursing home; and wrapping gifts for families you have and will never meet.

Yes, on the surface, John the Baptist may have been disappointed when Messiah did not come quite as he preached, when Christmas did not come with a fire to conquer and destroy his enemies. But I believe John began to learn, as we are all still learning today, that fire can take many forms. Yes, some of the forms are destructive and dominating in their effects.  But other forms are warm, comforting, purifying, light-producing and life-giving. These are the forms of fire which our Messiah, which Christmas takes in our world.

And because of this, on this Third Sunday of Advent, on this dark, cold day of December, we light another candle, and we are still learning that light does not disappoint us.

All Are Welcome, but…

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

Homecoming sign

Matthew 22:1-14 NRSV

Jesus said that the Kingdom of God is like a King who hosted wedding banquet for his son. But today, let’s say that the Kingdom of God is like a church hosting their 160th Homecoming Celebration.

The church sent out invitations, publicized it in the newsletter, on their on their sign out front, on their website and all over social media. The invitation was generous: “A bountiful table has been set.” The invitation was inclusive: “All are invited.” And the hospitality promised to be extravagant: A fat cow grilled, a fat pig barbequed, and thirty fat chickens fried golden brown.

Now, most people who rode by the church and read the sign “made light of it” and never gave the invitation much thought at all. They simply continued down the road, some to their farms, others to their places of business, others to CVS or The Little Rocket. Most who came across it in their facebook newsfeeds continued to scroll down to look at funny pictures and videos that had been posted by their friends.

However, some people who read the invitation were rather offended by the inclusive welcome. “What do they mean, ‘all are invited.’? Do they really have the audacity to invite all? If I go, will I have to sit at the same table with the poor, the undeserving, the marginalized, tax collectors and sinners?”

Some became so offended by the invitation that they even had thoughts which proved that the preacher was right when he one day proclaimed: “When you truly love all people and try to convince others to love all people, there will always be some people, probably religious people, who will want to kill you.”

On the day of the feast, many were found to be unworthy as they refused the invitation because the very thought of attending any party with some people was too much to bear.

But many accepted the generous invitation. For they knew that the invitation to the table came not only from the church, but it came from the Lord Himself. So, they came. They came through doors that were opened wide and they came to a table made large by the Lord. They came, and they filled the sanctuary. They came, the good and the bad, saints and sinners. They came from all walks of life, with diverse backgrounds and different beliefs. But they came united by the same extravagant love, the love of their Lord who lived for all and died for all. They disagreed, but they were not divided. They came together in love, through love and by love.

The love which united their hearts was so amazing, so divine, so selfless and so sacrificial that it literally changed them. It changed them inwardly, and it changed them outwardly. Sorrow was turned into joy, stress was replaced by peace, and despair was changed into hope.

It was a radical transformation. Everyone in the sanctuary that morning was covered with grace. They were clothed by grace. It was as if they were all wearing it like a beautiful garment.

Hate was replaced by love. Pride was transformed into humility. Judgment was replaced by acceptance. And complacency was turned into passion. Simply accepting the invitation of the Lord was replaced by a commitment to follow the Lord. Simply admiring the Lord being a shallow observer of the Lord, being a casual fan of the Lord, was transformed into a deep and deliberate discipleship.

Someone sent me the following quote on facebook this week:

Most of us don’t mind Jesus making some minor change in our lives but Jesus wants to turn our lives upside down. Mere fans of Jesus don’t mind him doing a little touch-up work, but Jesus wants complete renovation. Fans of Jesus come to Jesus thinking tune-up, but Jesus is thinking overhaul.

I have heard United Methodist Bishop William Willimon say something like, “Jesus does not want to meet our needs; he wants to rearrange our needs. He does not want to merely fulfill our desires; he wants to transform those desires.”

One of my favorite quotes by Henri Nouwen is that Jesus wants to take us to places we would rather not go: dark, dangerous, dreadful places.

And on that day, that glorious Homecoming morning, the people came and were changed the the grace of it all. They were overhauled. They filled the sanctuary, united by love, ready and willing to follow their Christ wherever he leads.

Then comes the disturbing part of the parable.

But one of the guests at the Homecoming service that day was sitting there in his pew unchanged. He was just sitting there unmoved, unaffected by the extravagant grace of it all, the generous hospitality of it all.

And he was asked, “Friend, how did you come here and not be changed? How did you accept such a generous invitation, receive such an extravagant hospitality, receive such a divine love and an amazing grace, and not be transformed? How can you receive love and not love others? How can you receive grace and not extend grace to others?”

The man was speechless. And the congregation watched in horror as the deacons sprung into action. They went over to the man, picked him up, tied a rope around his feet and hands, and carried him out the front door.

And when the congregation turned back around to face the pulpit, the preacher matter-of-factly said: “Many are invited, but few are chosen.”

That is harsh! It is why I don’t like this parable. But should it surprise us?

A couple of chapters later we read something remarkably similar.

A King will say, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.

Jesus seems to be saying, “All are welcome, but…”

The invitation is inclusive. The hospitality is extravagant. The grace is generous. The love is divine. The doors are wide and the table is large. All are welcome, and “all” means “all”, the good and the bad, the sinner and the saint, all are welcome, but…

All are welcome to this Homecoming Sunday this morning, but there is something more going on here on than a gathering of friends and family, an observance the Lord’s Supper, the singing of hymns, the preaching of a sermon and sharing an extravagant meal on the grounds.

All are welcome, but there is no real acceptance without the acceptance of others.

All are welcome, but there is no real love without loving those who hunger for it.

All are welcome, but there is no grace without extending grace to those who thirst for it.

All are welcome, but there is no forgiveness without forgiving those who have trespassed against us.

All are welcome, but there is no Holy Communion without the offering of our own bodies, the pouring out of our own lives as living sacrifices.

All are welcome to the table, but there is no true sharing, no true fellowship, no true nourishment, without feeding the hungry.

All are welcome to put on the white robes of baptism, but there is no meaning in those garments without clothing the poor.

All are welcome, but there is no life, abundant or eternal, without the dying of self.

All are welcome, but there is no salvation without the cross.

All are welcome, but if there is no discipleship; if there is no desire to follow Jesus; no commitment to stand against the bullies of this world, to share hope with the victims of bullies everywhere; if there is no commitment to stand for the poor, the marginalized, and the outcasts; no desire to eat with tax collectors and sinners; no dedication to love the least of these our brothers and sisters; well then, the deacons might as well pick you up, bind your legs and arms, and carry you out the front door.

That is harsh. It is why I don’t like this parable. It is why I use the entirety of the Bible to interpret this part of the parable.

Now here’s the good news. As far as I know, there is not a deacon in this room who is prepared to pick anyone up and throw them out the door this morning. Each person in this room is different. We come from different backgrounds, different walks of life, and we have different beliefs. We are at different places in our journeys of faith. But we came through these doors this morning united by the same love: the extravagant love of our Lord who lived for all and died for all.

And listen to the good news in the words of the Apostle Paul concerning this love:

Jesus’ love is patient. Jesus’ love is kind; the love of Christ is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. The love of our Lord love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. The love of Christ does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. The love of the Lord bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.[i]

So let us join God and keep loving one another with the patient love of our Lord and our Savior. And may this love always be with us as we continually seek to change to be the people and the church God is calling us to be. Amen.

[i] Gale Burritt Hagerty, a thoughtful Christian friend responded  with these words from 1 Cor 13 to the interpretation of Jesus as “belligerent” and “demanding” in the following quote: “Most of us don’t mind Jesus making some minor change in our lives but Jesus wants to turn our lives upside down. Fans don’t mind him doing a little touch-up work, but Jesus wants complete renovation. Fans come to Jesus thinking tune-up, but Jesus is thinking overhaul.”

 

 

Consecrating Our Lives

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

cartoon on giving

Matthew 20:1-16 NRSV

Today is Consecration Sunday. Consecration—It means to bless, to sanctify, or to make holy. This is the Sunday that we consecrate the pledges that we have made to the mission and the ministries of this church for the coming year.

Now, how do you suggest, pray tell, we do that? Exactly, how are we going to make these pledges that are in this box holy? I know how some churches do it. They get themselves a holy man with some holy hands to make the pledges holy. The holy man simply comes, reaches out and everything the holy man touches is consecrated, sanctified, blessed and made holy. The holy man might even have some holy water to help really make some things holy.

Problem is: where are we are going to get a holy man? Does anybody know one? Look around. Does anybody see a holy man in this room? Oh, no. Don’t look at me! Wearing a robe with the pretty stole does not make one a holy man!

And you know better than that as many of you have known me a long time. I have been called a lot of things, but I don’t think anyone has ever called me a holy man. And the only holy water I ever had (if coming from the Jordan River makes it holy), was poured out earlier this month in our baptismal pool.

So, how in the world are we going to consecrate this box, sanctify this box, make this box of pledges holy, without a holy man or a holy woman?

Well, let’s turn to that place that all Christians should turn when they have questions about faith and the church. Let’s turn to the Bible, and more specifically, let’s turn to Jesus.

In this morning’s lectionary lesson, we find Jesus doing something he absolutely loved: telling a story. And not just any story, but a story about who God is, how God acts, and what God desires. And if we want to truly live in the image of God, the story is also about us.

Jesus said, the way God is, acts, and thinks is like a landowner who went out around 6 am to hire some workers for his vineyard. He said, “I will pay you the going rate for 12 hours’ worth of work: 120 bucks.” They agreed and went to work.

At 9 am, he goes out and hires some more workers, and tells them that he will pay them whatever is right. He hired a few more people at noon and told them the same. Then went out and hired some at 3 pm and then even a few more at 5 pm and telling them, “Come and work and I will pay you what is right.”

At 6 pm, when the work day was over and the time had come to settle up with all of the workers, he called up the ones he hired last, who had only worked for only one hour, and shocked everyone by paying them each $120.00.

Well, the ones who had been working for 12 hours started to get a little excited. “Boss man paid them $120 an hour! Let’s see, $120 times 12 hours, uh, that means we are going to get paid $1,440 for our work!”

It is then the boss does something that is even more shocking. He gives those who had worked all day the exact amount he gave those who had worked for just one hour. And you better believe that when they got their check, they got pretty upset: “We have worked out here all day in the scorching heat. And you paid us the same as the ones who worked only an hour in the cool of the day!”

The boss replied: “Did you not agree to work all day for $120? Or are you just envious because I am so generous?”

Of course they were upset because he was generous, too generous. He overdid it with generosity when he paid those last workers, and there was nothing fair about it.  It was shockingly offensive.

This, Jesus says, is who God is, how God works, how God thinks, and what God desires. In other words, this, says Jesus, is holy.

So what is it that makes something holy? According to Jesus, it is an amazing grace, an overdone generosity that is so unfair that it is shockingly offensive.

Now, back to the box. Once again, are we going to make the contents of this box holy? Well, according to Jesus, we do not need a holy man or a holy woman with holy hands or any holy water, which, by the way, is good news, because we certainly don’t have any here.

I believe Jesus would say that these pledges in this box are made holy by the way we give our offerings to fulfill our pledges, and by the way we use these offerings after they are received.

First of all, the ones who made the smallest pledges in this box have as much worth as those who have made the largest pledges in this box. And those who joined this church just a few weeks ago and their pledges, are as important to this church as the ones who joined this church 50 years ago and their pledges. No, it is not fair. It is shockingly offensive. But it is holy.

Secondly, all of these pledges will be made holy if the offerings that are given to fulfill the pledges are given generously and graciously. Jesus says that when the landowner paid an entire day’s wage to those he hired at 5:00, he was essentially paying for nothing. He paid for labor that he did not receive. Therefore, he gave freely, selflessly and sacrificially. He gave generously, expecting nothing in return.

It is interesting to hear some people say that they give to the church expecting to somehow be blessed by God. I cannot tell you how many testimonies I have heard from people on Consecration Sundays about giving a large offering to the church on Sunday, and then on Monday morning, opening their mailbox to find an envelope with an unexpected check inside of it. Or how after they gave to the church their business grew, their sales increased, or a rich uncle died and left them a bunch of money.

The landowner paid some of the workers for 12 hours of labor and only got 1 hour. Therefore for 11 hours, he paid for nothing. He got nothing in return. It is not fair. It is shockingly offensive. But it is holy.

Thirdly, all of these pledges will be made holy, if the offerings which will be given to fulfill the pledges are used to give to others, graciously, selflessly, sacrificially and generously.

We are to give to those who cannot give us anything in return. We are to love those who will never put a dime in our offering plate. We are to use our offerings to reach out to those and care for those who will never do anything whatsoever to benefit our church or our lives. They might live as far away as Nicaragua, West Virginia, and many live right here in Farmville.

I believe this gracious type of generosity that Jesus expects us to have is evident in the way we minister to children and youth: those little ones who have no job, no income, nothing to offer us in return.

Now, I know some churches will say: “if you minister to children and youth by having good and strong programs, then you will get their parents to come and give, maybe even their rich grandparents.” But during the next year, I believe God wants us to minister to our children, finish our basement, purchase children’s choir robes, overdo it with Vacation Bible School, buy some playground equipment, send some kids on a mission trip and send them back to camp, expecting absolutely nothing in return. It is not fair. It is shockingly offensive. But it is holy.

Fourthly, we are also to give generously to those who simply do not deserve our generosity. The landowner gave to workers who did absolutely nothing to earn their pay.

In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving and Christmas, there is a lot of talk in the media about giving. During this time of the year, many organizations try to raise money to help the less fortunate. In nearly every plea I hear, someone will say something like “Donate this year to a deserving a child.” “Give to the well-deserved needy in our community.” Through this parable, Jesus implies that when we give, we should give maybe especially to those who do not deserve, have done absolutely nothing to earn our generosity. It is not fair. It is shockingly offensive. But it is holy.

This is how we make this box of pledges holy. And we can do it without a holy man or a holy woman with holy hands!

Which brings up an interesting question: If we can make this box holy, if we can consecrate and sanctify our pledges and our offerings, can we then consecrate our lives? Can we make our lives holy? Can we perhaps be holy men and holy women with holy hands?

Through the parable of the workers in the vineyard, I believe Jesus is suggesting that we can.

To make this happen, I believe Jesus wants us to simply get over the envy that we possess by the overdone generosity of God’s grace. And I believe the only way to truly get over it is to understand that we are the recipients of it. We need to understand that there is nothing any of us have done to deserve or earn the gifts of God’s grace. No human being ever did anything to earn the gift of life: the gift of birth; the gift of breath and a beating heart; the gift of feeling the warmth of the sun or a cool autumn breeze or a purple and gold sunset. And no person has or will ever be able to earn, do anything to deserve rebirth, unconditional love, forgiveness, salvation, and life eternal. They are given as free gifts of an amazing grace and an overdone generosity by a loving God. I believe when we understand this truth that all is gift, all is grace, and when we embrace this truth, we will begin to live this truth. We will live it by giving our lives freely, selflessly, sacrificially and generously and thus live in the very image of God. And guess what? Our lives are consecrated and sanctified. They are blessed and made very holy.

Well, how about that! Look around this room. I see a room full of holy men and holy women and holy boys and holy girls with holy hands to go with, what we are going to make together in this next year, a very holy box.

Risky Business

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

Cup-Cold-Water

Matthew 10:40-44 NRSV

Matthew Chapter 10 is perhaps one of the most demanding chapters in the entire Bible. In this chapter Jesus seems to stress how important it is that every member of the Kingdom of God realizes that he or she is called to do ministry. And he calls us to do some very demanding things.

Early in the chapter, we read that following Jesus is some very risky business. We are to go out into the world and come in contact with the sick and the dying. Encounter those possessed by pure evil. We are to leave behind our families, our homes, even our clothes!  Persecution is to be not only accepted, but welcomed!  We are to practice denying one’s self, losing one’s self to receive salvation.

We read it, and we think, “You know, I don’t think I am really cut out for this salvation business. I don’t have the gifts, the time, the energy, and quite honestly, nor the desire to be a disciple of Jesus.

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

Then we think: “Hey. You know, I think I might be able to handle this! I sure can’t heal the sick—I hate hospitals and I avoid nursing homes. I don’t have what it takes to minster to the poor. They make me nervous, make me feel dirty.

I can’t be with the dying. That is what Hospice is for. And I hate going to funerals. I never know what to say or what to do. I can’t leave my family behind. I can’t give up my wardrobe. And I don’t even like to think about losing my life.  But hey, I am all about sharing a cold cup of water!

Finally, Jesus! Something I can handle. I’ll tell you what I will do, Jesus. As soon as I get home from church this afternoon, I am going to hook up my water hose. Then I am going to I make a sign and put it out there by the faucet that reads: ‘Free cold drink of water for all who are thirsty!’ Maybe I am cut out to be a disciple of Jesus after all!”

For most of us, this is some very good news indeed. We who generally fail at casting out demons, who would rather stay in our pews than take the gospel out to the dying, who pamper our own families while others starve in the streets and who find praise far more satisfying than persecution, even we can open the doors of the kingdom of heaven through a simple act of hospitality as small as giving a thirsty stranger a cold cup of water.

Praise be to Jesus!” we say.  “I am going to just forget about all of that other stuff, that big stuff, that demanding stuff, that risky stuff Jesus talked about.  I’m just going to take Jesus at his word in Matthew 10:42 and run with it.  This is going to be my new favorite scripture verse.  This is my calling. This is my ministry. Cold cups of water for everyone!

I wonder though, if we aren’t missing something. For deep inside, we all know that all of us can do a lot better than that. We all know a cross or two we could bear. We could probably be giving more to the church and to others. We could all be a little less selfish, less materialistic.

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

Surely these are the marks of true discipleship.  These are the keys to the kingdom of heaven. A small act of inconsequential hospitality cannot compare to the risky business of battling the demonic, coming into contact with the sick, ministering to the dying and enduring persecution.

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

Several weeks ago, I replied to an email from a complete stranger who wrote to thank me for something that I had written on my blog. I replied with a simple, hospitable, what-seemed-to-be-inconsequential “Thank you.”  A few days later we are friends on facebook. A couple of weeks later, I get a telephone call asking me to pray for him about a job opportunity in Charlotte. A week later, I am asked to drive to meet this stranger in Raleigh.

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

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

In this kind of world, a world of walls and barriers, a world of violence and loneliness, a world of great diversity, replying to a simple email, a small gesture of hospitality, becomes a risky, prophetic act that has the power to change your life.

And Jesus said to go and do this. Go out, move out, and reach out to strangers. Love your neighbors. Yes, this world is very frightening beyond our walls. And the truth is our neighbors are downright scary. But our neighbors are also thirsty. Welcome, engage, touch. Make yourselves vulnerable to another. For there is no other way to fulfill the purpose for which you were created—to seek and make genuine peace in this world. This is discipleship. This is following the way of Jesus. It is done face-to-face, hand-to-hand, person-to-person. We cringe. Because we know that this kind of hospitality is risky. It involves openness and intimacy with another.

Offering a cup of water to others involves the risk of rejection, the risk of laughter, the risk of tears, and the risk of love. I’ve heard it said that the problem with others is that they are just so “other.” Others quite often can be different. Others may not like us.  Others might refuse our kindness. Others might wound us. Others might crucify us. And worst of all, others might change us.

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

coffee friends

On Friday morning, I went in to the church kitchen to get a cup of coffee. A woman from the cleaning service was in there preparing to mop the floor. Although I have seen her almost every week for the last nine months, I did not know her name. Before I really thought about it, considered the dangerous consequences of it, I asked this stranger, “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Somewhat shocked by my simple act of hospitality, she responded, “Yes, I would.” She then introduced herself to me over that cup as she introduced all of her children, a sick grandchild, a sister battling cancer. I filled a bag with squash and cucumbers from our garden, and I hugged this woman who I had hardly spoken to in nine months, this stranger that I had all but ignored, this woman who was no longer a stranger but a sister. And acknowledging the change, the miraculous transformation that had occurred, I thought, or maybe I prayed, “Good Lord, it was just one cup of coffee!”

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

This is the gift of community. This is why we were created.  It is the answer to our own sadness, our own loneliness and our deepest desires. Jesus knows we were not created to live in isolation, but created from the heart of a God who lives in a self-giving, loving communion with the Son and the Holy Spirit.

A heart that is so full of love that it cannot help but offer grace and redemption to all and call us all into this communion. And this communion grows. It grows when we offer kindness, gentleness, and mercy, when other lonely lives become wrapped up in our own, when God’s love that was given to us is extended to someone else. And before you know it, the small cup of water we offered to another becomes a cup of salvation, as barriers fall, hands touch, lives become entwined.

Getting involved with this kind of God, even when it seems small, safe and inconsequential is always a risky business with great consequences. And Jesus wants us to know that its consequences are eternal. Whether we are fighting demonic evil, healing the sick, caring for the dying, leaving behind our homes, our wardrobes, friends and family, being persecuted for our faith, or simply offering meager acts of hospitality to a stranger, we always risk finding salvation.

This is the great wonder of the gospel. When we reach out and accept and welcome others, when we touch another’s hand, embrace another, offer the grace of God to another, even in the smallest of ways, even in sharing a glass of water, even in replying to one simple email or offering one small cup of coffee, God welcomes us. When we encounter another, we find communion with God and receive the overflowing hospitality of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.[i]

 

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

Jesus Prays for Us

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

Jesus prayedJohn 17 NRSV

As a pastor, I have the wonderful privilege of sharing not only the best of life with people, but also the worst of life. I have the privilege to celebrate the joys of life as I will with Ashley Mozingo and Bryant Watson this week when they are married, and I have the privilege of suffering through the sorrows of life as I have this past week with Shirley Meeks as she buried her husband of 57 years.

Now, I do realize that may sound rather peculiar to call sharing the sorrows of others, a “privilege”; however, when you witness the miraculous strength and extraordinary courage; when you witness a faith that never fades, but only grows stronger in the midst of the suffering as I have, when you visit people amid suffering and leave feeling, not sad, but inspired and uplifted, you would understand why I call it a “privilege.”

Some of you know what I am talking about. There is no other word but “miraculous” to describe how some of you are you able to be here in this place today, and doing as well as you are doing, in spite of everything that you have been through. Some of you have lost persons that you love the most in this world. Some of you have suffered a heart-breaking divorce. Just this past year, some of you lost your job. Some of you have had major surgery. Some of you have been diagnosed with a chronic illness. Some of you have lost your siblings, and some have lost your very best friends. Yet, here you are. Somehow, some miraculous way you have survived, and you are somehow making it. And not only are you here, but your mere presence, your smile, your hugs, the faith and love that we see burning in your eyes is more of an inspiration to us than you can possibly begin to understand.

But how do you do it? How do any of us really do it?  How do we keep on keeping on in a world of gloom and doom?  How do we maintain our sanity in a broken world of sickness and strife?  How do we keep the faith in a world of doubt and disbelief?

Shirley Meeks who faithfully and graciously cared for William during this last difficult year as he suffered with cancer, told me that she believes she knows exactly how she has made it through, how she has remained so strong. Besides her sewing room where she would escape for a few moments during each day to create something with her hands, needle and thread, she said there was one other thing that has seen her through her suffering. Last Saturday, standing on her front porch she confidently said to me: “Jarrett, the Lord answers my prayers.”

One of the greatest things that happens to me as a minister, and it happens very frequently, is when I go to the hospital or to a home to minister to someone, and the person to whom I am ministering, ministers to me.

There is no doubt that Shirley believes in the power of prayer. Right before William passed away, his body began to shiver as if he had a chill. The very first thing that Shirley did was grab the prayer quilt that the women of the church had made for William, the one that the church had consecrated with prayer for William. She picked up that quilt and lovingly and graciously wrapped it around him.

Shirley is able to be here this morning because she believes in prayer. She believes the Lord hears her prayers and the prayers of her church family and friends. However, our scripture lesson this morning suggests that there may be much more to it than that!

For here we learn that Jesus, as he was preparing to leave this world, prayed for us. Think of that for a moment, God within the three persons of the holy Deity prays for us.

We read in 1 John 2 that we all have an advocate with God the Father, we all have someone on our side,  praying for us, supporting us and loving us. He is Jesus Christ the righteous.

The writer to the Hebrews assures us that “he is able for all time to save those who approach God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.” The writer is saying that Jesus lives to make intercession for us. Jesus lives today to pray for us (Hebrews 7:25).

The Apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans writes: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that the very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.  And God who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Romans 8:26-27).

If you ever worry that no one is praying for you, the apostle Paul says that you can stop worrying.  If no one earth is praying for you, Jesus certainly is. Jesus is our High Priest. He is our intercessor. He is our advocate. Christ lives today to pray for us. Even when we don’t know how to pray for others or for ourselves, even when we cannot find the words to pray, Paul says that the Spirit of God intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.

This wonderful truth should be bring us great comfort. For sometimes the pain of life is so great, the grief is so overwhelming, that we don’t even know how to begin to pray. I have heard someone say that sometimes when the pain is so great, when they pray they don’t pray words at all. They simply “pray their pain.” They pray their pain and trust that Jesus hears, Jesus understands, Jesus intercedes and Jesus answers.

So, what does it truly mean for us to be prayed for by Jesus?  Let’s look again at the words found in our lesson this morning.

There are several petitions to God that are offered by Jesus on our behalf.  Because of time, I just want to point out two of them that I believe explains a lot.  First, Jesus asks that the Christian community exhibit the same oneness that exists between Jesus and the Father. There is an edifying mutuality which exists between Jesus and the Father. Each glorifies the other. John 15:8-10 reads:  “My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my father’s commandments and abide in his love.”

Jesus prays for us to share this oneness between Jesus and the Father by keeping his commandments to love others as he loves us.

As I met with Ashley and Bryant to plan their wedding celebration, we talked about love being more than a mere feeling, for feelings cannot be commanded. Jesus commands us to love others. He does not say love others, if you feel like it. If you have feelings for another, then love them. No, he says to love others. Love is always a verb. That is why I told Ashley and Bryant that they will never hear any minister ever ask in a wedding ceremony, “Are you in love” or “do you love” but always, “Do you promise to love.” Love is always action. Love is not a feeling, but Love is selfless, sacrificial service. Jesus prays that we will love one another.

Another petition offered to God by Jesus is that God sanctify the church. The verb translated “sanctify” here belongs to the cultic language of the Old Testament, where priests and animals were set apart for sacrifice.  And it belongs to the Holiness Code of Leviticus where the whole nation was directed to live as a special people separated for the service of God. Jesus prays that we will understand that we have been ordained, set apart, and sanctified for selfless, sacrificial ministry.

This is how I believe Shirley Meeks was able to minister to the minister. If God has ordained us for ministry, then God is always going to give us the strength and the courage we need to be an inspiration to others, to love others, even when we do not feel like it loving others, even in the face of suffering and grief. God is always going to do all that God can do to help us to love others, to be selfless servants to one another. For this is the prayer of Christ for each of us.

So, this is how I believe we do it. This is how we keep the faith in a broken world of doubt and disbelief. This is how we keep on keeping on in a world of gloom and doom. This is how we have been able to make it through this last year amid so much loss and grief. This is how we can be an inspiration to others amid the worst in life. We are prayed for. We are prayed for by others, but more importantly we are prayed for by Jesus Christ himself.  The Spirit of God is interceding for us with sighs too deep for words.  Jesus, our advocate, is praying that in this world of despair, we will abide in his love, and be sanctified and set apart for ministry.

Locked Doors

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

lockJohn 20:19-31 NRSV

On the evening of the first Easter, we find the disciples of Jesus cowering together in a house. Windows shut, shades pulled, curtains drawn, shudders closed and the doors have been locked up tight. It is nighttime, a dangerous time in any city, but this is Jerusalem, and here, on this night, the disciples had some pretty good reasons to lock the doors.

The most obvious reason their doors were locked was the fear that the institutional, religious authorities who organized and began plotting from the very beginning to put an end to Jesus and his message were quite possibly even now plotting to put an end to them.

So the disciples locked the doors.

And then, there may be another reason, earlier in our text we read where Mary Magdalene has told them, “I have seen the Lord.”  And what do they do?  They locked the doors.

After denying that he even knew who Jesus was, I’m sure Peter felt like locking the doors. After fleeing and deserting Jesus, leaving him to die alone between two thieves, I’m sure many of the disciples felt like locking the doors.

This image of locked doors has had me thinking all week. As I have pondered this image, I cannot get the words of my home pastor out of my mind. Every Sunday, during the Invitation, he always said the same words: “The doors of our church are now open for membership. If anyone here would like to be received into full membership into our church, you are invited to come down during the singing of this hymn.

Remembering these words this week has caused me to ask a question, a question that I believe is imperative for the church in the 21st century to ask: “Why do you suppose so many people today, especially people in their 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s, when it comes to church membership, also feel like locking the doors, locking the doors to even the thought of becoming a part of the church?”

From asking this question to countless people all over this country who have given up on the church since I was ordained in 1992, this is what I have discovered:

The reason that most young people give for locking the doors to even the very thought of being associated with the church is that they simply have no trust in organized, institutional religion. In fact, they regard the church the same way the disciples cowering behind closed doors regarded the religious system of their day—as a threat to Jesus and everything for which Jesus stood.

They hear some of their friends, the ones who do proudly profess to be a part of a church, on a tirade protesting against such things as equal rights, social justice, equitable healthcare, and any criticism about the gap between poor and the rich. They hear their church friends make scornful remarks about minorities of every persuasion, and they know just enough about Jesus and his affinity for the poor and the marginalized to know that something is terribly wrong with this picture.

Many young people today in no way want to be associated with the words of many in the church who make heinous claims on the behalf of God, such as: tornadoes are God’s way of getting our attention, the Haiti earthquake as well as Hurricane Katrina were directly linked to Voodoo or Catholicism; the Japan earthquake and tsunami and the South Asia tsunami were directly linked to Buddhism or Islam; or the events of 9-11 and the subsequent deaths in the War on Terror are God’s judgment on abortionist and homosexuals.

Young people today do not want to be associated with a religion that has preachers and congregations who picket the funerals for our soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice, yelling hate-filled rants declaring that their deaths are the will of God.

They hear preachers declare from their pulpits that either the American President or the Pope is the anti-Christ. And they look at institutional, organized religion these days and think that we may be the ones who are anti-Christ. So, like the disciples distancing themselves from self-righteous and judgmental organized religion, young people are locking their doors to the church.

And secondly, as the disciples also hid behind locked doors avoiding Jesus, there are some who are not simply avoiding organized religion; they are avoiding God. When they lost their grandparents, their parents, or some, their children, the response from their Christian friends was that God took them. God needed another angel, another flower in the heavenly garden.

The response of some in the church was that all of their loved one’s pain and suffering and their subsequent death, that their child’s untimely and tragic death was all part of some purpose-driven divine plan. So they lock the doors, wanting absolutely nothing to do with a God like that.

Whatever the reason for the disciples’ fear, the irony of our gospel lesson is that the judgmental, organized religious authorities were not trying to get to the disciples to arrest them and Jesus was not trying to get to them to punish, condemn them or take their lives. As I said at the Sunrise Service last week, Jesus was trying to get to the disciples in order to give them the word that they needed more than any other word—the very first word of the Easter story.

On Easter evening, the Risen Christ returns to his disciples, the same fearful followers who denied, forsook and abandoned him and pronounced “Peace!”  It was the same word that was proclaimed at his birth by the angels in the beginning of the gospel.  “Glory to the God in the highest and on earth, peace!”  And it was one of the last words from the cross when he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  And here, the first word of Easter to the fearful disciples cowering behind locked doors is “Peace.”

THIS is what I believe all people need to hear from the church, and it needs to be the very first word they hear from us.

The first word they hear from the church should never be judgment, condemnation or some loud, angry, hate-filled rant or protest. It should never be that God took her or snatched him, or is punishing them, or trying to get their attention because of some sin. No, the first word they need to hear from us is “peace.”  They need to hear God say, “Peace. My peace I give to you. You are my sons. You are my daughters, I have always loved you.  I still love you. I will love you forever. I am here with you and for you, always working all things together for the good.”

I believe people in our world who have locked their doors to the church are thirsting for this peace. They are thirsting for a group of people in our world that have the audacity to truly live as the embodiment of Christ in this world offering the first word of Easter, the peace of Christ to a fearful world through selfless, sacrificial love and service to others. They are thirsting for a church that seeks to be, not an institution, but the living embodiment of Christ in this world, serving the poor, and those whom society has marginalized, offering grace, acceptance, love and peace.

Several Easters ago, we went to visit my parents in Elizabeth City.  We had a nice dinner, watched the Masters, and then ate some leftovers before heading home. It was late when we arrived back home, about 11:00.  And guess what?  We were locked out. In a hurry to leave after church, I had accidentally grabbed the wrong set of keys.

As Lori and Sara sat in the car, twelve year-old Carson and I checked every window on the first floor.  All locked.  “I guess I’ll break a window.”

“Wait a minute,” Carson, who has always had a lot more patience than me, said. “I think the window in the middle dormer upstairs is unlocked.” I grabbed my extension ladder that was much too short for the job.  I stood it almost straight up and asked Carson to hold it at the bottom as I climbed up.  Got myself on the roof in front of the dormer, but before I could reach it, because of the pitch of the roof, and the dew that had gathered, I began to slide off.  Came down, feet hit the ladder, almost knocking it over. I put a death grip on my shingles with my hands. Grabbed the top of the ladder with one foot and straightened it out with the other as Carson helped at the bottom.  I don’t know if he was more scared that I was going to fall and kill myself on the brick steps below or fall right on his head.

After one more idiotic try to climb on the roof, it occurred to me, “Maybe I can peel the vinyl ceiling back on my back porch just enough to climb up into the attic. Got my pry bar, and went to work.  Less than five minutes later, I was inside.

Now, was my wife happy?  Was I the hero of the night?  Was she proud of my resourcefulness and my persistence?  No, she was absolutely horrified by how quickly I broke into our securely locked house. “If a preacher can break in, anyone can!” she said.

This is the good news of this Easter Season. Our securely locked doors are not a problem for Jesus.  Here is the promise of Easter for each of us today. Just as the risen Christ was not stumped by the locked doors behind which the disciples cowered, so I promise you that the risen Christ will not be deterred by the locks that any of us or anyone else has put on our own doors.  Our God is wonderfully resourceful, imaginative, persistent, and determined to get to all of us.  Even in our lostness, even in our betrayals and denials, even with all of our past failures, Christ is ever determined to share his peace with us in this world.

I believe Christ is as alive today as he has ever been. I believe he is on the loose, even here in Farmville. He is moving and working and he is as determined as ever to get the word out…the very first word of the gospel proclaimed by angels, and the last word proclaimed on the cross and the first word of Easter: peace.  The question is: will he be able to use us? Will we allow him to breathe the Holy Spirit on us and send us into the world to help him share that word—a word of unlimited grace, unreserved forgiveness and unconditional love for all God’s people, especially to those who have locked the doors to the possibility of being a part of the church.

Will he find a group of people here that have the audacity to truly live as the embodiment of Christ in this world offering the first word of Easter, the peace of Christ to a fearful world through selfless, sacrificial service to others?

From what I have learned about you over the last seven months, and from what I what I see in you every week, I believe the answer is ABSOLUTELY!

Getting Our Hands Dirty

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

John 9:1-41 NRSVdirty-hands-medium-new

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

“So, they say you were born blind? Well, let get out our Bibles and see if we can find some theological reason for your blindness. It has to be because of sin. But since you were born blind, perhaps it’s not your sin that is to blame but the sins of your parents.”

Yes, I’m sure all of that theologizing and rationalizing did a whole lot for that poor man.

But how often have we’ve been guilty of doing the same. For some reason, because we are religious, or at least, spiritual people, we believe it is our ordained duty to try to explain human suffering and misery in light of our faith in God.

When the earthquake and Tsunami struck Japan a few years ago, like the Tsunami that struck Southeast Asia years before, I heard some preachers say that it is because Japan was not a Christian nation.

When terrorists destroyed the World Trade Center Towers on 9-11, they said that corporate greed was to blame.

When Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and Gulfport, I heard some blame it on all the new casinos that had been built in the region.

And whenever there is an outbreak of strong storms, tornadoes, wildfires or landslides, I have heard plenty of Christians say, “God must be trying to get our attention!”

For whatever reason, when suffering occurs, we believe God must have had some pretty good reasons to allow it.

In the face of human pain and suffering, there are two predominate explanations that are usually given by the church.

The first one is the one I usually hear from the TV evangelists and conservative pulpits. God is sitting at the command center in complete control of every earthly thing that happens. God has got a plan for the world, and it’s a good plan, but we as limited human beings may not always be able to figure that plan out. Who knows? Maybe people who suffer deserve to suffer. But we do know this: God’s judgments are always just. You just have to have faith and believe. You have to trust that God has his reasons, has his driving purposes for everything that happens.

The other response comes from more liberal scholars. And that is one of silence, just silence. God is large and God is indescribable. Life, and the suffering that comes with it, is utterly mysterious. We simply have no answers to our “why” questions—silence.

Frankly, I believe both of these responses are terrible, to say the least. First of all, those who believe God has some kind of divine, driving purpose for every evil thing that happens in this world, in my estimation, paint a very evil and anti-christ portrait of God.

And those who respond with silence, those who refuse to say anything at all in response to human suffering, make God out to seem detached and aloof. God is watching us, but from a distance. Thus, God is reduced to this a mysterious abstraction devoid of any real meaning.

However, the gospels paint a very different image of God through the words and works of Christ. I believe the life, suffering and death of Christ teach us that when the landslide shook the earth in Washington, so quivered the very heart of God. As the earth rolled down and toppled homes and lives, so rolled down the very tears of God. As the lives of many were suddenly were poured out, so emptied the very self of God. God was not causing the evil. Neither was God silent.

This is where I believe our Gospel lesson this morning is especially helpful. When Jesus is questioned about this man’s lifetime of pain and suffering by his disciples, Jesus really doesn’t answer the question, but neither is he silent. Jesus responds by pointing out that this was a good opportunity, not for theological debate, not to assign blame or responsibility, but rather, to bend to the ground, spit in the dirt, and get his hands dirty, so that the glory of God might be revealed. Jesus responds to human suffering and misery by bending to the ground, getting his hands dirty to bring about healing and wholeness.

And with that, a huge argument ensues. But notice that Jesus refuses to engage in the argument. Jesus is not interested theological debate or speculation. Jesus is interested in simply being there with the man, touching the man, thus revealing the peculiar glory of our God and power of out God.

When I was in college, one of my favorite professors was Dr. Bobby Bell. During my junior year, Dr. Bell was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. I had the wonderful opportunity to take what would be his last class. He was a sociology professor; however, he would often share his faith in class.

ll never forget the time when one of my classmates asked Dr. Bell if he ever felt that God had some reason for allowing his cancer. “

God did not give me this cancer. I am a human being. And human beings sometimes get cancer. I have cancer because I am human, and not for any other reason. I don’t believe for a minute that God wants me or anyone to have cancer. That’s why I believe during this time of suffering and pain, I have sensed, in a way that I have never sensed before, the very intimate, near presence and love of Christ in my life. And I may not be healed physically, but I have certainly felt the hand of Christ on me and know that I have been healed spiritually. I believe the living Lord is here suffering with me, and that means everything in the world to me.

Dr. Bell died two days before final exams. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he died a healed and a very whole man.

I think it is interesting that the great Southeast Asia Tsunami hit the day after Christmas. One of the world’s worst natural catastrophes took place the very first day after the church’s celebration of the Incarnation, the celebration of the good news that our God did not remain silent, aloof and detached from us. The celebration that our God became flesh and came among us; our God is a God who descends; our God is a God who bends, who stoops to the earth.

The story of this healed blind man comes in the same Gospel of John that begins, “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was made flesh and moved in with us…and we beheld his glory.” The great, grand glory of this God who became flesh with us, is not that God is in complete control of everything earthly thing that happens, and it is not that God has an explanation or a reason or a driving purpose for everything that happens to us, but rather that God is here with us.

In the face of suffering, our God reaches in and reaches out to us, bends himself to the ground, gets God’s hands dirty and touches us.

Every year when Holy Week approaches, I think about the worshippers of the Goshen United Baptist Church in Piedmont, Alabama. It was Palm Sunday in 1994. About midway through the worship service at 11:35 am, as the choir began to sing, a tornado ripped through the church building destroying it completely. Eighty-three out of the 140 worshippers who attended the service that day were injured. Twenty-one worshippers were killed. Eight of the dead were little children—children who had just walked down the aisle carrying their palm branches.

There was absolutely no driving purpose, no theological explanation for that tragedy, except for the fact that we live in fallen, broken, unfair and sometimes senseless world where tornados, landslides, tsunamis, hurricanes, and cancer can develop and arbitrarily destroy.

Thankfully Christians from all over the world responded to that great tragedy by emulating our God revealed to us in Christ, by bending themselves to the ground, getting their hands dirty, raising that church out of the rubble. Christians everywhere imitated their Savior by suffering with and being with the grieving.

On the church’s website today, you will find these words:

 After the tornado, we received many gifts from all over the world. They lifted us up and helped us to know that we are not alone. Among those gifts were a banner and a painting of Jesus walking on turbulent waters. These and other gifts are reminders that God is with us through our storms, and with His help we will rise above them and be stronger because of them. We can now affirm the truth of the message that is contained on a plaque and in the words of a song: ‘Sometimes God calms the storm. Sometimes, he lets the storms rage, and calms the child.’

The good news is, as the Psalmist so beautifully describes it in the 23rd Psalm, God is always there to calm God’s children.

And in the end, isn’t that much better than any theological explanation?

The Problem of the Know-It-All

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

know it allJohn 3:1-17 NRSV

In today’s gospel lesson, a very knowledgeable and prominent leader of Israel comes to Jesus seeking to discover who Jesus is and what Jesus is all about. The learned and sophisticated Nicodemus begins his conversation with Jesus appearing poised and confident, “Now, we know that you are…”  He begins his conversation from the same place that most of us mature, experienced, educated, long-time religious people often begin our conversations about God—from the stuff we know, from the stuff we understand… or think we understand. “Now we know that you are…”

And it’s from there that the conversation gets all convoluted and confused. Jesus begins talking to Nicodemus about birth, and poor Nicodemus thinks Jesus is talking about ordinary, physical birth. Jesus starts talking about the Spirit—and Nicodemus thinks Jesus is talking about the wind.

It is interesting that Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, for in just a few brief moments with Jesus, Jesus proves that, when it comes to God, Nicodemus is in the dark in more ways than one.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus confident and assured, but by the time Jesus gets finished with him, Nicodemus is confused and mumbling, “Uh, How can this be?”

Nicodemus has a problem.  And perhaps Nicodemus’ problem is in the very way he came to Jesus in the first place—“Now we know that…”

And maybe that is precisely our problem—“Now we know that…”  We can’t help it.  We are modern, intellectual types who know a lot!  We can explain the inner workings of the atom, the intricacies of the human genome, the formations of tropical depressions, and how to build a space shuttle. We know. We live in what they call the information age. If there’s something we don’t know, we can just Google it, and in a few simple clicks of a mouse, we know. With WebMD and Wikipedia, there is hardly anything that we cannot easily understand and explain.

Perhaps this is why we try to approach God the way we do. God is to be understood and easily explained. 

It is no wonder those on the outside of the church accuse those of us who are on the inside of being “know-it-alls” when it comes to religion.  They believe that we think we have all the answers. There are some that think that we are here this morning because we are experts on religion, knowing lots of things about God. And truth be told, that is exactly why they are not here with us this morning.

One day, I was introduced to someone who knew that I was a pastor. He shook my hand, and said, rather proudly, “I am an agnostic.” Which means that he did not know he believed about God.

I surprised him when I responded, “I have my moments when I am an agnostic too.” I believe that some are agnostic all of the time, and all, if they are honest, are agnostic some of the time.

The reality is that here on Sunday, we acknowledge together how little we really know. We gather ourselves together to acknowledge the great truth, that when it comes to the mystery that is God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, we are all, well, quite ignorant!

The truth is that the God we worship is much larger than our imaginations. God is bigger and more alive than we ever can possibly comprehend.

This is why I believe I left the movie, Son of God, feeling disappointed. There is just no way anyone can capture the essence of who Jesus is and present it in a one-hundred and forty-minute cinematic presentation. I told someone that I have been preaching the gospel of Jesus for over twenty-five years, and I have not even begun to scratch the surface of who Jesus is and what the gospel is all about.

William Willimon, commenting on how some reduce God to something we can easily understand said, “You can’t define this God, put this God in your pocket, or on a leash and drag God around with you.  Life with this God is an adventure, a journey, a leap into the unknown, an expectation that, among even the most regular attendees among us, there will be surprises, jolts, shocks.”[1]

In a few moments we are going to have a child dedication service. Robert and Ashley Bishop are going to present their son, Owen. And Brooks and Jenny White are going to present their son, Chase. We are pretty confident that we know what we are doing when we dedicate them to the Lord. We believe that we are merely promising to nurture them, guide them and teach them all we know about Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit. We say that we do this because they are the church of tomorrow.

But what if Owen Bishop and Chase White have more to teach us about the triune God than we can possibly imagine? What if Owen and Chase and every other small child here today are not the church of tomorrow, but are actually the church of today? What if they truly are, as Jesus implies, more a part of this thing called the Kingdom of God than we can ever know? What if we are not so much the ones who are going to instruct them about this journey called faith, as we are the ones who are merely going to invite them to go on this journey with us? And along the way, what if they are the ones who have a thing or two to teach us?

How often have we gathered around this table confident that we know exactly what is going on here around this table. Catholics and some Episcopalians are all so mysterious, always insisting on calling it “Holy Communion.” We like to call it simply “supper.”  Some believe that something mysterious takes place as they eat this meal. They call it transubstantiation. We only believe it is a dry little cracker and tiny sip of Welch’s grape juice and an act of remembrance that is confined to our limited and finite minds. 

But what if there is more going on here this morning than we can see, touch or taste or even remember? When we gather around the Lord’s Table, what if there is more going on here than meets the senses? What if there is some mysterious communion or a very holy fellowship happening here? Sharing what we merely call a “supper,” what if we are surprised to discover that we are somehow invited to join the same fellowship that is mysteriously and inexplicably enjoyed between the Father, Son and Holy Spirit? 

In and around this table, what if there is something afoot, something happening— moving, inviting, healing, strengthening, loving, forgiving, saving, calling, challenging, commissioning?

We have come to instruct and bless children, but we will leave having been instructed and blessed by them. We thought that we have come to remember a life, a death and a resurrection, but we will leave having been caught up in that life and death and transformed by that resurrection.

As Willimon has said, “For, that is our God at our God’s best. That night as Nicodemus talked with Jesus, he began with what he knew. And he ended with questions about what he did not know. He arrived fairly confident that he had a good grasp of, [a good hold on] who Jesus was; [he left surprised,] having been encountered and held by the mysterious, majestic Holy Spirit of God in the flesh.”[2]

This morning, when we awoke, we thought we knew what we were doing. We thought we were going to get up, get dressed and simply go to church, sing a few hymns, have the Lord’s Supper, listen to a sermon, dedicate some children. Then we would leave, get some lunch and come back home unmoved and unchanged, to watch a little more basketball.

However, when got here, we realized that we did not know it all. A song spoke to us, a small wafer and tiny cup filled us, a word challenged us, a child looked at us and blessed us, and God, the creator of all that is called us by name and loved us. Christ came and wrapped his arms around us as his Holy Spirit breathed new life into us. And now, we will leave this place changed, transformed and divinely commissioned to share the love of God with all people.

[1]Quote and interpretation of Nicodemus’ first words to Jesus “We know” came from William H. Willimon, We Know (PR 34/2; Inver Grove Heights Minnesota: Logos Productions, Inc., 2006), 49.

[2] Ibid.