Category: Sermons Year B

Prayer Works

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

Quilting Bees 1

James 5:13-20 NRSV

For perhaps too many weeks now, maybe too many months, our scripture lessons have been pointing out the things that are not right within the church. They have been pointing out the sins of the church. They spoke about disciples being ashamed of the gospel: ashamed of the extravagant grace and unrestricted love of the gospel. They pointed out the hatred, bigotry and racism that is present in society, but also in the church. They talked about the temptation to do what is popular instead of what is holy. They spoke about the dangers of following the laws of culture instead of the supreme law of God to love our neighbors as ourselves. And last week, the scriptures said to be a consecrated church, to be a blessed church, we need to stop worrying about how to be the greatest and start worrying about the least, the poor, and the marginalized.

Well, today, it appears that we may finally be off the hook, as our scripture lesson this morning focuses on some things that I believe are very right within the church.

“Are any among you suffering?” James asks. “Then you should pray.”

Hallelujah, we got that, James!

For this is one thing that we are actually pretty good at doing! We will certainly pray for one another, especially if we hear that another among us is suffering.

One of the comments that I hear frequently from church people who have experienced some form of suffering is: “I just don’t know how people who do not have a church family make it in this world.”

You say that, because you truly mean that. You say that, because when you needed your church the most, people in the church prayed for you. People in the church cared for you. When you suffered, people in the church came to your side and suffered alongside you, offering you mercy and compassion, love and grace.

As Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “When one part of the body suffers, we all suffer” (1 Cor 12:26).

James continues: “Are there any among you cheerful? Then sing songs of praise.”

Amen, brother James! We got that too!

This past Wednesday night, when we heard Ann Byrd and Myrtle Sugg had turned another year older, we cheerfully put our voices together and sang “Happy Birthday!”

For as Paul also said, “When one part of the body rejoices, we all rejoice!”

James goes on: “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.”

Oh, we are quite good at that too, brother James!

One of the first things we do when we hear someone has been hospitalized, has become ill, has lost a loved one, or has been bitten by a dog, is to email the Elders.

Then, although we may not use olive oil like it was used in the first century, we do participate in other acts of “personal touch,” other forms of “laying on of hands,” to bring healing, to foster wholeness and peace. And we do it the name of the Lord.

As most of you know, we have a wonderful prayer quilt ministry here. We have a group that meets monthly to make the quilts that we pass around to the entire congregation, so each member of the church can prayerfully lay their hands on each quilt, before we present it to the person who is suffering. It is a truly wonderful ministry.

Then, James reminds us that prayer works. Prayer changes things. Prayer changes people. Prayer brings healing; sometimes physical; always, always spiritual. Prayer, says James, helps us to forgive one another. Prayer “saves.” And the Greek word translated “save” here, is sozo, the same word that we use when we talk about “salvation.”

And then James tells a story to back it up, a wonderful story about Elijah and the power of prayer.

James, we are with you 100 percent! Preach it brother! For we also have our stories.

Just last Sunday afternoon, I visited an elderly widower in his home. He shared his joys with me. I shared mine. Then, the shared some of his sorrows. He shared his sufferings. He talked about his failing health and his frail body. He talked about a new medication that the doctors were trying. Dr. Barrow, we laughed together, when he said, “You know doctors, though. They only practice medicine.” I said, “Just like preachers: “we only practice faith.” Then he got serious, as he said, “So, only God knows if I am going to get any better.”

After we talked a little more, we joined hands, we bowed our heads, and we prayed together. After we prayed, he took out a handkerchief, removed his glasses, and wiped tears from his face.

Then, with a grin that emitted pure joy, he said, “I know I am going to be fine. I am going to be fine. I am going to be fine one way or another. Whether I get better, or whether I go to be where my wife is. God knows, either way, I am going to be fine.”

Prayer works. Prayer changes things. Prayer changes people. Prayer raises people up. Prayer saves people. Sometimes physically; always, and most importantly, spiritually.

And, all of us inside the church have countless stories to back it up.

So, Amen again brother James! Preach it! As Bobby Jr. says, “You got that right!”

But brother James…oh, he’s not finished with us yet.

Listen to how biblical scholar, Eugene Peterson, puts it:

My dear friends, if you know people who have wandered off from God’s truth, don’t write them off. Go after them. Get them back and you will have rescued precious lives from destruction and prevented an epidemic of wandering away from God. (James 5:19-20 MSG).

Hmmm, not only does prayer work, prayer is work!

So, maybe, we are not so much off the hook this week after all. For we would all confess that this is an area that is not always right within the church.

Most churches are pretty good about being a community of care of concern. We are good about praying for one another and rejoicing with one another. The bad news is: we are also good about sometimes writing people off. Where we sometimes struggle is working to bring others into our community.

For churches generally have programs and ministries that are geared to meet the needs of primarily whom?

They have shepherding programs, prayer shawl or prayer quilt ministries, prayer meetings, Bible studies, hospital visitation teams, homebound ministries, bereavement care, youth and children’s programs for whom?

For folks outside of the church?

Or for folks inside of the church?

Do you remember one of the first things that I led us to do as the pastor of this church? I said that we really needed to fix our stained glass windows as soon as possible. The Plexiglass that protected our beautiful stained glass windows depicting the good news of Christ were tarnished so badly on the outside, that our windows could only be seen by those of us on the inside the church.

I said, “aesthetically speaking,” it was “horrendous;” but “theologically speaking,” it was a “disaster.” I said that we needed to make sure that we were always working to share the good news of Christ with those who are on the outside of the church.

Do you remember what one of the first things we heard from folks who questioned us having a community garden?

Someone asked: “What if someone who doesn’t belong to the church comes by and steals your tomatoes?”

And we responded, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

One thing that I love about our church, and one of the reasons that I believe we continue to grow, is that we are moving well past a ministry model that focuses on the needs of the membership and moving toward a ministry model that focuses on the needs of the community.

The good news is: when I ask for a prayer quilt, no one asks me: “Well, pastor, is this for a member of the church?”

The good news is: when we get a request to build a handicap ramp, no one asks, “Is this for someone we know?”

The good news is: when I ask the outreach ministry team for some money to pay someone’s utilities, no one questions: “Does this person really deserve our help?”

The good news is: when I ask you to pray for someone, no one asks: “What church do they belong to?”

The good news is: no one here batted an eye when the town wanted to have a meeting in the fellowship hall to discuss Pitt Community College coming to Farmville. And, as far as I know, no one even raised an eyebrow when they asked us to serve them a meal.

The good news is: I know of no one who got upset when the Methodist church in town borrowed our van to go on a mission trip. And no one even flinched when money was allotted to send a mission team from our church back to West Virginia.

And, the good news is: I know of no one who criticizes me for spending time ministering to those outside of our church, like the elderly widower with whom I spent part of last Sunday afternoon.

Because you get it.

Prayer works. Prayer changes things. Prayer changes people. Prayer heals. Prayer raises people up, and prayer saves.

And we have stories to prove it.

And, as James reminds us, prayer is not just for us.

Prayer is for all.

And all means all.

Prayer works, and prayer creates work. Prayer generates selfless and sacrificial efforts. Prayer fosters acts of extravagant grace and unrestricted love. Prayer encourages generous mercy and boundless compassion. Prayer creates risk. Prayer creates responsibility. Prayer creates a church with wide open doors and a wide open table.

Yes, you are right. I don’t know how people who do not have a church family make it in this world.

So, let’s keep praying and let’s keep working. Let’s keep sacrificing. Let’s keep giving, and let’s keep risking to invite and to welcome them into our church family, showing them by our extravagant grace and unrestrictive love, through our generous mercy and boundless compassion, that prayer works.

Prayer works, indeed.

Ashamed of the Gospel

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

ashamed of the gospelMark 8:27-38 NRSV

Next Sunday is Consecration Sunday. It is the Sunday that we are asked to prayerfully commit ourselves to the 2016 budget of this church and to serve on a ministry team, and it is the Sunday that we will ask God to bless those commitments. Members will receive a pledge card in the mail. If you are not yet a member, if you wish, you will be able to pick one up from an usher.

We are doing this, because for almost two years now, I have been preaching that, perhaps more than anything else, the church needs to re-discover its mission to be the church, to be the body of Christ, to be the very embodiment of Christ in this world. As Christ, we are to continue his ministry in this world, doing the very same things that he did while he was on this earth: offering healing to the sick, hope to the despairing, comfort to the troubled, grace to the sinners, love to the hateful, and life to the dying.

Now, if this is like any church that I have ever known, there may be more than a few of you who are thinking: “I just don’t believe I am ready to make such a commitment. I have some things that I need to work out first in my life. My faith needs some work. I have my doubts. I have questions. I have so much to learn, so much to figure out. And I have some very personal issues to deal with. I have this problem with anger. Sometimes I act or say before I think. So right now, if you don’t mind, until I can get my act more together, learn a little more, I think I will pass on this pledge card thing.”

Well, here’s my response to that: “Have you ever met Peter?”

You know, Saint Peter. The one Jesus called a “rock” and said, “on this rock, I will build my church.” The one Roman Catholics recognize as the first Pope. Perhaps you’ve heard of St. Peter’s Square, St. Peter’s Cathedral, and St. Peter’s Basilica. Peter: the one whom Jesus loved and trusted to carry on his ministry in this world.

Well, let me tell you a little more about this Peter fella.

One day, he is out on boat with the other disciples. It is the middle of the night, and there’s this big storm. The wind is howling. The waves are crashing against and into the boat. And as you could imagine, they were all scared to death. But then, Jesus comes to them, walking on the water, saying to them to have courage and fear not.

But Peter…Peter has some doubts. Peter has some questions. Peter needs to work some things out: “Lord, if it is really you, then command me to come out on the water.” And Jesus responds, “Peter, you of little faith.”

Later, Jesus is instructing Peter about discipleship. Jesus talks about being humble, lowering one’s self, even pouring one’s self out. Jesus talks about selfless, self-expending, sacrificial love, being with and for the least of these.

But Peter…Peter has some issues. Peter has some things to learn. Peter gets into an argument with the other disciples about which one of them was the greatest.

After Jesus prays in the garden, surrendering himself to the will of God, offering himself as a sacrifice, Jesus does not resist arrest. Jesus practices what he teaches and turns the other cheek.

But Peter…Peter loses it. Peter acts before he thinks. In a fit of anger, Peter fights back. Peter draws his sword and begins swinging it Jesus’ captors, cutting the ear off of one.

And in our text this morning, Jesus foretells that garden event. He talks about being rejected by organized religion. Jesus is essentially saying:

“When you preach the word of God that cuts like a sword; when you love all people and try to teach others to love all people; when you preach a grace that is extravagant and a love that is unconditional; when you talk about the need to make room at the table for all people, even for folks called “illegal” or “aliens”; when you stand up for the rights of the poor and the marginalized; when you proclaim liberty to the oppressed and say that their lives matter; when you defend, forgive and friend sinners caught in the very act of sinning; when you tell lovers of money to sell their possessions and give the money to the poor; when you command a culture of war to be peacemakers; when you tell the powerful to turn the other cheek; when you call religious leaders hypocrites and point out their hypocrisy; when you criticize their faith without works, their theology without practice, and their tithing without justice; when you refuse to tolerate intolerance; when you do these things that I do,” says Jesus, “then the self-righteous-powers-that-be will rise up, and they will hate. They will hoist their colors, and they will grab their guns. They will come against you with all that they have, and they will come against you in name of God. They will do anything and everything that is in their power to stop you, even if it means killing you.”

But Peter…Peter has some serious issues with that. Peter says to Jesus: “No way! Stop talking like that. This is not right. You are crazy. We will not let this happen!”

Then, having had about all that he could stand of Peter and his nonsense and excuses: his doubts, his questioning, his anger, his lack of faith, his personal issues, all the mess that he needs to work out, Jesus responds to Peter with some of the harshest words ever recorded by Jesus: “Get behind me, Satan.”

Jesus, calls Peter, “Satan.”

And yet, that did not stop Jesus from loving Peter, from using Peter. Jesus kept teaching Peter, kept calling Peter, and kept leading Peter to do his work in the world. In fact, that did not stop Jesus from calling Peter to start his church in the world.

So, if you are not ready to make a commitment to Christ and his church, and if your excuses are: that you have doubts; or you have questions; or you are just not ready; or you have some issues to work out; or even have days you feel unworthy, even have days you know you resemble Satan more than God; then you are going to have to come up with another excuse, because as Peter teaches us: with Jesus, those excuses simply don’t fly!

So, what is it that is really keeping us from committing ourselves to Christ and his church?

After Jesus is arrested, Peter goes into the courtyard of the High Priest. It is a cold night, so he gathers with some folks who had started a fire to warm themselves. A servant girl begins staring at Peter and says: “This man was with Jesus. He traveled around with him doing the things that Jesus did, saying the things that Jesus said.” But Peter denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not even know this Jesus.”

A little later, another saw him and said: “You are a disciple, a disciple of Jesus who defended, forgave and friended sinners. You welcomed strangers, visited prisoners, clothed the naked, gave water to the thirsty, and fed the hungry. You restored lepers, elevated the status of women, gave dignity to Eunuchs, and offered community to lepers. But, again, Peter denied it.

About an hour had passed and another man began to insist saying: “Certainly this man was with Him, for he is a Galilean too. You called out hypocrisy on the behalf of widows. You challenged the status quo on the behalf of the sick. You disobeyed the laws of God on the behalf of the suffering.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about!”

Perhaps Peter’s denials had nothing to do with his lack of faith. Perhaps his denials, his refusal to take up his cross, had to do with shame.

Peter’s failure to pledge his commitment to Christ and his church had nothing to do with his doubts and his questions, because, as Jesus pointed out over and over, those excuses simply don’t cut it. Peter’s failure was shame.

Peter’s failure to start his own ministry team had nothing to do with his personal issues or poor anger management. Peter’s failure had to do with shame.

Peter failed to make a pledge; Peter failed to commit himself to Christ and his church, because he was ashamed.

Peter was ashamed of the gospel: What the gospel stood for, and for whom the gospel stood.

Peter was ashamed to love, because living among voices clamoring to take their country back from foreign invaders, it was more popular to hate.

Peter was ashamed to turn the other cheek, because it was more popular to draw a sword or get a gun.

Peter was ashamed to identify with the least, because it was more popular to identify with the greatest.

Peter was ashamed to share his wealth, because it was more popular to hold on to it.

Peter was ashamed to side with the poor, because it was more popular to ridicule them for being “lazy” and “entitled.”

Peter was ashamed to welcome immigrants, because it was more popular to dehumanize them by calling them “aliens.”

Peter was ashamed to defend sinners, because it was more popular to throw rocks.

Peter was ashamed to stand up for the marginalized, because it was more popular to call them “abominations.”

Peter was ashamed to visit those in prison, because it was popular to treat them as animals.

And Jesus said: “Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

So, are we ready to commit? Are we ready to give sacrificially and serve graciously? If not, what’s our excuse? We must remember, with Jesus, a lack of faith, having a lot of questions and some serious issues, or not having ourselves together simply doesn’t cut it!

Could it be it is because we are somewhat ashamed? Are we ashamed of the gospel? Are we ashamed of what it stands for, and for whom it stands?

The good news is that Peter dealt with his shame. Peter made his commitment. Peter turned in his pledge card. Peter joined one ministry team and started another. And, this one Jesus called “Satan,” helped start the church and has been named by the Church as its first Pope.

And the good news for us this morning is that we still have a little time to deal with our shame.

Are We More than Theologians?

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

hungryMark 7:24-30 NRSV

Our scripture lesson this morning has been called one of the most disturbing passages in the gospels. And it is disturbing on many levels.

On one level, it is disturbing, because Mark tells us that Jesus goes on a trip to a Gentile region and enters a house hoping no one would know he was there. This is so unlike our portrait of Jesus as a fisher of people, as a good shepherd who seeks and finds.

The story becomes even more disturbing, when he encounters this Gentile woman of Syrophoenician origin. Mark tells it as if Jesus is bothered by this woman. “Yet, he could not escape notice.” Have you ever had to run to the grocery store early in the morning? Unshaven. No makeup. Wearing a pair of sweats. You go hoping you would not run into anyone you know. But it never fails. You always do. Mark tells this as if Jesus has that same type of disappointment. “Yet, he could not escape notice.”

Then we begin to wonder the real reason he was disappointed. Was it because someone recognized him or was it because a “Gentile woman of Syrophoenician origin” recognized him? Why would Mark point out this woman’s ethnicity?

The story gets worse.

The woman begins to beg Jesus to cast a demon out of her daughter. This is when the seemingly disappointed Jesus gives the woman a callous, seemingly racist answer. “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Jesus, using a common expression of his day, says: “Let the needs of the Jews be met first, for it is not fair to take the gifts of God which are intended for Jews and give it to the Gentiles” [he calls “dogs”].

Of course, many have speculated why Jesus gave such an insulting response. Some have said that it was because he was simply tired and needed little break. Jesus was trying to get away, get some rest and have some privacy. And this woman simply ruined his vacation.

Some say that since Jesus was a good Jew, he still had problems sharing the good news to the Gentiles. Jesus had problems and prejudices, like we sometimes have problems and prejudices, sharing the good news with folks who are different.

Others have tried to soften the words of Jesus. They say that when Jesus called the Gentiles “dogs,” he was merely referring to beloved household pets. He wasn’t being harsh at all. He was referring to lovable animals that people cherish and treat as part of the family.

Some have even suggested that Jesus did not really mean what he said. He was only saying it to test the woman’s faith.

Then, just when you think it cannot get any worse, the story becomes even more disturbing, as we hear from the woman. The woman schools Jesus:

Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs. [In other words: At my house, the dogs eat at the same time the children eat. So why should have to wait until the needs of the Jews are met before my needs are met? There’s enough room and enough food at God’s table for all of us at the same time.]

Jesus recognizes her wonderful answer and says: “For saying that, your daughter has been healed.”

This is disturbing because this is the exact opposite of what we usually expect from Jesus. It is Jesus who is supposed to answer with a wonderful good news revealing the truth of God’s grace and love for all people, Jews and Gentiles. But here, it is the woman, the Gentile, the outsider, who gives the correct response, who gives the good news, and even appears to correct Jesus with the good news.

Well, I have told you how others have interpreted this disturbing text. Now, let me tell you what this text means to me.

I believe it is very important to interpret this text within its context. Before coming to Tyre, Jesus was back in Galilee arguing theological matters with the Scribes and Pharisees, the religious leaders of his day, regarding who was clean and who was unclean. The religious leaders said that all non-Jews, like the Syrophoenician woman, who did not strictly adhere to their traditions were “unclean” in the sight of God. In the previous passages, calling the religious leaders “hypocrites,” Jesus says “no” to this type of thinking with a very deep, insightful theological discourse.

Then he goes to Tyre, and he is confronted by a non-Jew who has a daughter with an “unclean spirit.” It is now time for Jesus to practice what he has been preaching. However, Jesus is still thinking theologically. It may be because that was the purpose of his solitary stay at that house. He was perhaps there to do some theological reflection regarding the nature of his ministry and mission. So when he is surprised by this woman, taking a little off guard, still in a theological frame of mind, he responds with the theological statement that children should be fed before dogs.

The truth is that God did choose to reveal God’s self, first, through Israel. God emptied God’s self and became human as a Jew. However, God did not come for the Jews only, and Jesus never says that. He only says that “children are fed first.” His statement does not rule out a mission to the Gentiles. He was making a truthful theological statement.

And notice that the woman does not dispute Jesus’ statement. She does not say that Jesus is wrong. She does not deny who she is apart from God. What I believe she is saying is this: “Jesus, that may be good theology. That may win you some arguments in the seminary back in Galilee, but you know something? It does absolutely nothing to help my sick daughter. My daughter still has an unclean spirit.” Jesus is then challenged to put all of the theology he has been teaching into practice.

Therefore, the question I believe this text asks us is: “Are we more than theologians?” Because, like Jesus, we are confronted by people every day who need more than our good theology.

I believe there are many who look at us theological church people and say:

You know, I am glad you go to church. I am glad you believe in the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus, but you know something? That does nothing to help my daughter. I am glad you worship every Sunday. I am glad that you tithe faithfully and celebrate weekly communion, but you know something? That does nothing to help my son.

How do we respond to one who is hungry? Are we merely theologians? Do we simply say that we believe God blesses those who hunger? Or do we put our theology into action and feed that person?

How do we respond to one who is lonely? Are we merely theological? Do we tell them that God is with them, and if they pray they will sense God’s presence and not be lonely? Or do we offer ourselves, our presence, and our friendship? Do we offer the image, the presence of God in us, to that person?

How do we respond to one who does not profess Christ as Lord? Do we tell them how he came and died on the cross for their sins? Or do we show them by our own actions of sacrificial love?

How do we respond to people who are: sick or depressed; marginalized or imprisoned; poor or homeless; afraid or dying; grieving or suffering? Are we more than theologians?

And how do we respond to people who are different? How do we respond to those who have been taught by society, and even by the church “on God’s authority,” that their lifestyle is outside of God’s grace and love? How do we respond to those we sometimes refer to silently, if not out loud, as “dogs?”

If anything should disturb us about this passage, it is this! Because I think we know the answer.

Fourteen years ago this month, shortly after September 11th, a husband and wife and their beautiful daughter visited a church in North Carolina. They were new in the community and had heard about the reputation this church had for being a warm, friendly, loving community, so they decided to visit.

After the service, the pastor was at the front door shaking the hands of these visitors letting them know how glad he was that they had come to worship with them this morning. A deacon, one of the most revered, theologians in the church, passed by. He had been a Sunday School teacher for 30 years. The pastor got the deacon’s attention and introduced him to the visiting family. The father extended his hand to shake the hand of the deacon. The deacon, however, looked irately at the pastor and then walked out the front door, leaving the visitor’s hand extended in the air.

For you see, this visitor’s hand had a Middle Eastern tone. He was Arabic. And his wife’s hands were black. And the little girl’s hands were a mixture of both.

I don’t know what the family said to one another when they got back to their car. I do know that it was the last time they visited that church. But they might have said something like:

You know, I am glad that you say that you love the Lord. I am glad that you people are faithful to this church. I am glad you believe the things you say you believe. But you know something? That does nothing to help my daughter. And no, we are not like you at all. We are not the traditional Norman Rockwellian family, and you may think we are dogs. But, you know something, at my house, even the dogs eat at the same time the children eat. At my house, there is enough room at the table and enough food for all.

Does the Thought Really Count?

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

Brut33James 1:22-25 NRSV

I know it is way too early to mention Christmas in a sermon. However, the following is the best sermon illustration that I could come up for this morning’s scripture lesson.

Every Christmas, when my whole family gathered at the home of my grandparents for Christmas dinner, and more importantly, for presents, my brother, sister and I could always count on getting some cool presents. For just about everyone to give us some kind of special toy that we could play with for hours at a time.

However, we always could count on this particular relative to give us something that we could never play with, something like a pair of socks, a pair of gloves, or a set of handkerchiefs. When I was in the first grade, I remember getting what every six-year-old boy wanted: a bottle of Jovan Musk for Men. The next year, I got every seven-year-old’s favorite gift: a box set of Brut 33 Cologne and Deodorant. And the next year, I got every eight year-old’s dream-come-true: Some Soap on a Rope.

And every year, I remember always opening my present from this one particular relative, smiling and saying: “Thank you. This is exactly what I wanted.” Because Mama and Daddy would always pull us children aside every Christmas and tell us to always remember that it is not the present you get, but it is the thought that counts.

To this day I have never really fully understood that philosophy. What did my parents mean that “it was the thought that counted?” I could not play with my relative’s thoughts. Besides, you have to wonder: soap on a rope for eight-year-old? What were they thinking?

“It is the thought that counts.” It is a common phrase, because often times, although we may not like it and may not fully understand it, we know it to be true. It is true at Christmas time, on birthdays, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, but it is also true in other areas of life.

Sometimes in life the thought counts, because the thought is all that we have to offer. Sometimes we encounter situations where there is nothing that anyone can actually do, and the only thing that anyone can say is: “I am thinking about you.”

One of the most difficult things to do is to try to buy a card for someone who has a terminal illness. I remember trying to find a card for my grandparents during the last days of their lives. Most all of the cards read: “Hope You Feel Better” or “Get Well Soon.” And that’s not always appropriate. The only cards I found which best met my grandparents’ needs were cards which simply read: “I’m thinking of you” or “You are in my thoughts.”

There are some situations in life when the only thing we have to offer, and the very best thing we can offer, is our thoughts. Sometimes the greatest gift in the world can be those beautiful, empathetic, and comforting words, “I’m thinking about you.” Sometimes, the thought really does count.

Empathy is certainly one thing that is needed in this world. How much better would this world be if more of us thought before we spoke, before we acted? How much better would this world be if more of us tried to put ourselves in the shoes of another? There would certainly be much less hate in this world, much less bigotry, prejudice and stupidity.

I can remember many times in my life when I would have much rather received someone’s thoughts instead of the gifts they tried to give me. When sorrow and grief came my way, good-hearted people, I am certain without thinking, offered painful and insensitive antidotes like: “Well, the Lord knows best.” “You are just not ready to be a father.” “God doesn’t make mistakes.” “It’s God’s will, and we can’t question God.” Why couldn’t they just say: “I’m thinking about you,” and nothing else. Sometimes, not only does the thought count, the thought is the only thing that counts.

However, we must also understand that sometimes in life, the thought does not count. Sometimes, thoughts mean very little, and sometimes the thoughts mean nothing at all.

The apostle James, throughout his letter, makes this very clear. “Be doers of the word and not just hearers; otherwise, it is like looking in a mirror and immediately forgetting what you look like.” In other words, the look didn’t count. And in the next chapter he writes:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?

James is saying that sometimes the thought, no matter how good that thought might be, simply does not count. Sometimes good thoughts must be coupled with good deeds. Faith must be coupled with works. James says that if a person is hungry, all of the good thoughts in the world are not going to fill him up. Only food will do that. Thoughts are nice, but thoughts cannot keep a person warm. Only clothes will do that.

In Second Timothy, we can find a great example where thoughts are of little help. Paul writes to Timothy:

Do your best to come to me soon . . . and when you come, bring the cloak that I left at Troas, and also the books, and above all, the parchments . . . Do your best to come before winter.

It is obvious that what Paul does not need here are some thoughts. Paul appears to be lonely and would like some company. Paul is cold and needs a sweater, especially before winter. Paul appears to be bored and needs a book. Imagine if Timothy would have written Paul back and said, “Dear Paul, I cannot come and bring your sweater, and I cannot come and bring your books, but please know that I am thinking about you.”

You know, one of the greatest things about First Christian Church is that we have a lot of good thinkers. We have critical thinkers, philosophers, if you will, but we also have some very empathetic thinkers. Our church is full of compassionate thoughts. When the thoughts counted for some of you in the hospital, in the nursing home or in the funeral home, you always knew that there were people who were sincerely and lovingly thinking about you. And it counted for a lot.

However, there are just as many instances in the church where our thoughts simply do not count.

When Carolyn Joyner suffered a stroke six weeks ago, the most compassionate, most empathetic thoughts in the world were not going to build her the handicap ramp she needed. Hammer, nails, lumber, and people who were willing to give up a beautiful Saturday morning were needed to do that.

Since I have been your pastor, we have been thinking, at least I have been trying to get us to think, about how wonderful it would be if every member of this church volunteered to serve on some ministry team. We have thought about the tremendous impact we could have on eastern NC, our region, and our world, if every one of us were using his or her Spirit-given gifts for ministry. Thinking about it though, will not impact a thing.

If this church is ever going to become the church that God wants her to become, we must be willing to move beyond our thoughts to work hard and sacrifice much. Each of us must be willing to give of ourselves, of our tithes, but also of our time and our talents.

There are a couple of families in our church who have not worshipped with us for some time. I have missed them. And I know you have missed them. However, missing them, thinking about them, no matter how sincere our thoughts may be, will not let them know that they are missed. They need a phone call. They need a card sent to them, not thoughts kept to ourselves.

Sometimes thoughts do count. Sometimes saying, “I’m thinking about you,” is all we can offer, and it is all we should offer. Sometimes those simple, beautiful words can make all the difference in the world. However, as James and Paul teach us, sometimes in life the thought simply does not count.

Jesus constantly said that our thoughts should be put into action. Jesus said that if we truly loved him, we would do more than just think about him with sentimental affection. Jesus said that if we loved him, we would keep his commandments.

Sometimes I do believe that it is appropriate to think about Jesus. Part of our worship should be spending time in meditation reflecting on Christ’s love for us. How he loved us so much that he suffered for us. Those are things that we should think about. But I have to believe that if that is all that we do, then those thoughts simply do not count. They are like looking in a mirror and, a minute later, forgetting what we saw.

During our worship, when we reflect on the suffering of our Lord, when we hold the broken bread and the cup, those thoughts should always stir us, move us and mobilize us to go out and suffer alongside someone who is suffering. Thinking about our Lord should compel us to visit the nursing homes, the funeral homes, the hospitals and the prisons. Thinking about Jesus’ suffering should propel us serve on a ministry team, to be more committed than ever to truly be a movement for wholeness in this fragmented world.

A movement. Not a team of thinkers.

A movement. Not philosophy class.

A movement. Not a club of theorists.

A movement. Not a group of day dreamers.

A movement. Not a church of well-wishers.

A movement, a body of doers, doing all that we can, when we can, with all that we have been given,

working for wholeness in a creation that is broken,

working for justice in systems of inequality,

working for mercy and grace in a society of bigotry and prejudice,

working for peace in a culture of war and violence,

working for truth in a nation of politics,

working for love in a world of hate,

working for hope in a world of despair.

Now, may God give us the wisdom and the courage to do more than to just think about this sermon.

Drunk, Dancing Disturbers of the Peace

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

disturber_of_the_peace_baby_hat

2 Samuel 6:-1-5, 12-19 NRSV

Ephesians 5:6-20 The Message

This passage from Ephesians is the story of my faith, or at least, I hope to make it the story of my faith. For there was a time that I was taken in by all sorts of religious smooth talk, and I hung around people who knew the religious sales lingo all too well.

They spoke words that were religious, yet unbiblical, but words that my itching ears wanted to hear: “Only people who think and believe like us are God’s children”; “God only wants us to only help those who are willing to help themselves”; “God wants us to love the sinner but hate the sin”, which was also interpreted, “We should love others, but we don’t have to like others.”

Now, this did keep me out of trouble. It kept me from hanging around or friending anyone who did not think like me and worship like me. And it also kept me from doing anything to help the poor in my community or anyone outside of my church.

The faith instilled in me was personal and private. It was something I possessed, clung to, an exclusive ticket to an eternal home. It was about personal peace and eternal security. It was something that kept me from immorality. And immorality was always limited to personal sin, especially the big five (I know you thought they were 10, but we good Baptists had 5): “Do not to drink, dance, smoke or chew or go with girls who do.”

My faith was always controlled, moderated, tempered, I later learned, watered down. It never challenged the status quo, never disturbed the peace, never questioned why women did not preach in church, or even take up the offering. It never asked why the living quarters for migrant workers in my farming community looked so bad or why all migrant workers were black.

My faith was kept trucked away, wasting away in the dark. Faith was something that we only did on Sunday morning between the hours of 10 and 12. Although going to church often seemed like a waste of time, as I spent many of those hours nodding, sometimes actually napping in my pew, I was taught that this was what made God happy.

But here in Ephesians, Paul is telling me that my faith was actually making God furious. My faith was not merely sleeping in a pew. My faith was dead in the pew.

Wake up from your sleep, Climb out of your coffins; Christ will show you the light!

So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!

17 Don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants.

18-20 Don’t drink too much wine. That cheapens your life. Drink the Spirit of God, huge draughts of him. Sing hymns instead of drinking songs! Sing songs from your heart to Christ. Sing praises over everything, any excuse for a song to God the Father in the name of our Master, Jesus Christ

Now, like every good Southern Baptist, I knew not to drink too much wine. But I never learned that I was supposed to replace the wine. I never knew I was supposed to drink from the Spirit of God and become God-intoxicated. I did learn that these are desperate times, and my faith involved singing hymns, but only singing hymns to be heard only from behind the stained glass; Not singing and dancing in the streets in the light of the day like some public drunkard!

This passage reminds me of a story from second book of Samuel.

After David led a great army to get possession of the Ark of the Covenant to return it to Jerusalem, David and his army were so overcome with what was going on that they engaged in festive rejoicing and dancing. They were seized by what James Newsome, New Testament professor of Columbia Seminary calls “a spirit of prophetic ecstasy.”

The scriptures say that David sang and danced before God “with all his might.” He sang and danced before God with all that he had and with all that we was. David was God-intoxicated.

And when you become God-intoxicated, so filled with the Spirit of God, you will most certainly disturb the peace and face opposition it.

When David and his wife Michal arrived home from the party and began preparing to turn in for the night, David, if he was anything like me, was probably hoping to hear some words of affirmation from his wife. Something like, “Honey, you were so wonderful today. As I listened to you sing and watched you dance in the streets, you just don’t know how proud I was of you! You danced your heart out! And why shouldn’t you have, you brought the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem where it belongs!”

However, the words David hears are something like: “David, you looked like a drunken fool.”

Perhaps David did act like an intoxicated fool. Uninhibited and unrestrained, he lost all self-control. Seized by “a spirit of prophetic ecstasy,” David held absolutely nothing back. David surrendered to the Spirit which had filled him.

David danced, charged by the rule of God. David danced, electrified by the justice of God. David danced a dance of total self-surrender. David danced, holding nothing back. David danced giving all that he had and all that he was to God. And there was absolutely nothing personal or private about this dance. This dance caused a scene. This dance created a fuss. It got people’s attention. It challenged the status quo. It disturbed the peace. And Michal despised David for it.

This is what happens when one drinks huge draughts of the Spirit of God. This is what happens when one becomes God-intoxicated. There is no way to control it, moderate,  temper it. There is no way to conceal it. There is no way to regulate it to two hours on a Sunday morning. When one becomes drunk with the rule of God, the love of God, one’s feet will inevitably move to the dance of the gospel, and one will be despised for it.

The dance of the gospel is a dangerous dance. The dance of the gospel is a disturbing dance. The active affirmation the rule of God does not set well with the Michals of the world.

The dance of personal, private piety are easier steps to follow, aren’t they? The message of false prophets watering down the gospel of Christ as nothing more than a little dose of “chicken soup for the soul” is much easier to swallow. If we just get ourselves right with the Lord, if we pray right and live right, if we are good moral people, if we don’t drink, smoke or chew or go with girls who do, then God will bless us and one day send us to heaven.

The dance of the gospel is radically different. The dance of the gospel are steps to the beat of a different drum. If we get right with the Lord; if we pray right and live right; if we lose all inhibitions and all restraint; if we completely surrender ourselves to the rule of God; if we love others as Christ loves us, unconditionally, unreservedly; if we question the status quo, if we disturb the peace; if we dance to the beat of this drum, then we will invariably get some push-back.

That’s a good question for all of us who are attempting to follow Jesus, is it not? “In your walk with Jesus, are you getting any push back?”

The answer should always be yes, for the dance of the gospel is a dance of self-surrender to a radical beat. It is a beat of sacrifice. It is a beat of selflessness. It is a beat of self-expenditure. It is a beat of a scandalous love and of an offensive grace. And to world, as the Apostle Paul warned the Corinthians, if we let go and dance to this beat, we are certain to look like fools. And as Luke warned us in Acts chapter 2, when we are filled with the Holy Spirit of God, we may be accused of public drunkenness.

We will be called drunken fools when offer our friendship to a poor woman in a nursing home who can offer us nothing in return.

We will be called drunken fools we spend valuable time volunteering at the hospital, serving lunch in a soup kitchen, building a handicap ramp for a stranger who may never use it, spending a week repairing homes in West Virginia, spending thousands of dollars in Nicaragua, or visiting someone in prison.

We will be called drunken fools when we offer love and forgiveness to our enemies, when we give the shirt off our backs to complete strangers in need.

We will be called drunken fools anytime we love anyone with the self-expending love of Christ—whenever we love someone without inhibitions, without restraints, and without reservations.

We will be called drunken fools when we continue to challenge the status quo, question immoral systems of injustice, and disturb the peace.

For the Michals of the world despise this dance. And they will do everything in their power to stop this dance.

We have all heard their voices: loud echoes which discourage such dancing. “Don’t get too close to him. Do not give your heart to her. You will be sorry. They will only let you down.”

“Don’t love that man. He has done absolutely nothing to deserve it and will never reciprocate.”

“Don’t love that woman. She is too needy. She never does anything to help herself. She will demand too much.”

The voice of Michal say: “The system is not that broken. The poor get what they deserve. Most minorities have it pretty good in our country, and they are the real racists. Public education is not worth fighting for. Healthcare is not a right.”

The voices of Michal say: “Keep your faith private, moderate. Keep it between you and God. Don’t stir up trouble. Just sit on a pew and look forward to going to heaven. Sing behind stained glass. Don’t worry about missions. Don’t worry about your neighbor. Don’t waste your time giving yourself away to strangers. Loving like that is crazy. It is too risky. It leads to too much pain.”

However, there is another voice, a voice heard by David: “These are serious times, so let’s drink large draughts of the Spirit, until we are all God-intoxicated! Let’s sing and dance in the streets with all we have.” It is a voice which says: “Dance! Hold nothing back. Give yourself away. Surrender yourself to the beat of the heart of the gospel. Love. Love honestly and deeply. Love courageously and graciously. Lose yourself. Empty yourself. Pour yourself out. Question the systems of injustice. Challenge the status quo. Disturb the peace.”

Will this love cause pain? It will cause enormous pain. But the joy of God which will consume you will be so immense the suffering will be well worth it.

Garth Brooks once sang a song entitled “the dance.” There’s a line in that song that goes, “I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to have missed the dance.”

Dancing the dance of the gospel will inevitably bring pain. However, never truly following in the steps of Jesus to avoid that pain is never really living. There is no joy being a wallflower on the wall of life or being a Sunday morning pew napper.

So, let us wake up from our sleep and rise from our coffins. Let us drink huge draughts of the spirit of God, and let us dance! May the First Christian Church go out and dance in the streets of Farmville, Greenville, Winterville, Tarboro, Pinetops, Wilson, Fountain and Pikeville and have seizures of prophetic ecstasy! Be warned, we will look like drunken fools, and we will suffer for it. But the immense joy of God, the joy of abundant life, now and forevermore, is well worth it.

It’s Not About Us

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

Its not about us

John 6:24-35 NRSV

Not long after I moved to Louisville, Kentucky to attend seminary, I was called to serve a fairly large church as their youth minister. We had over 1,500 members and about 75 teenagers. I was only 22 years old at the time and as proud as I could be on the staff of such a large church.

One of the first things that the personnel committee wanted to do after I was called was to turn in my name and driver’s license number to the church’s insurance company so I could drive the church’s vans.

About a week later, I was asked to meet with Norman Hartman, the chairperson of the personnel committee, and the pastor. We went into the pastor’s office. The pastor shut the door. Norman said, “Jarrett, we have a small problem. You’ve had right many traffic violations haven’t you?”

I hung my head down in shame; face all red. “Yes, I have.”

The pastor said, “Tell us about it.”

And as if I was in a confessional booth I started: “Well, I have had a couple of accidents that were my fault. I got a ticket each time. And I believe I’ve had four speeding tickets but none were for going over 70.”

“It says here in this report you’ve had five speeding tickets,” Norman said, sort of reluctantly.

The pastor shook his head.

“One of them was not for speeding. It was for passing someone on a double-yellow line.” Norman and the pastor grimaced.

I tried to explain: “But I was on my way home for school for Spring Break going through this small town in North Carolina called Bethel. And I had been behind this car forever that was going 20 miles an hour! And as soon as we got out of the town, I passed.”

The pastor asked, “With all of those tickets, it seems like they would have taken your license away.”

“They were going to,” I said. But I went to a driver’s improvement clinic so I could keep it.”

Then the news came. I will never forget it. “Well, it’s nothing personal Jarrett,” Norman said, “but we are not going to be able to let you drive our vans. We think it would be too risky. Besides, putting you on our list of drivers would make our insurance premiums sky-rocket.  Our agent said that if you don’t get any more tickets in the next three years, you might be able to drive when you turn 25.”

Seeing that I was completely devastated and utterly embarrassed, the pastor said some of the most uplifting and comforting words: “Jarrett I want you to know that you driving record in no way makes me think less of you and your ability to be a fine youth minister. So, hold your head up, it’s not about you. We just can’t justify paying the increased premiums.”

“It’s not about you.” As a pastor, that’s a phrase that I find myself using rather frequently with different people.

One of my church members in Winston-Salem got her feelings hurt when I did not visit her in the hospital. She told someone in her Sunday School class that she spent nearly a week in the hospital and I never once came by to see her. However, the fact was that I had no idea that she was ever in the hospital. How was I supposed to know?

When I found out she was upset, I went to see her. She started the conversation by complaining that if her last name was so-in-so (she named a prominent family in the church) I would have been there. She said: “I know that I’m really not that important in this church.”

I said, “This is not about you. It has nothing to do with who you are or what your last name is. I didn’t go see you because I simply didn’t know you were in the hospital. It’s not about you.”

I had a conversation with someone who has experienced a lot of tragedy recently. She was visibly very depressed about her situation. “I can’t believe that all of this is happening to me? Why is God doing this to me?  What in the world have I done to deserve all of this?”

I said, “This is not about you. Your loved one got cancer because he’s a human being and sometimes human beings get cancer. Your car had a flat tire, because that’s what tires do when you run over a nail. And your pet died because that’s what pets do, they die. It’s not about you.”

I believe we are somewhat trained by our culture to take everything personally, to think of ourselves as the center of the universe. We judge all people, experiences, and events, all organizations and relationships on what they do for sweet, adorable me.

This is one of the reasons I believe church can be difficult for us. Because church, what we are about here, can be quite a reach for us because the truth is that Church is about God. It’s not about us.

A friend and I went to chapel when I was in seminary to hear a well-known preacher in our denomination. In his sermon, he talked about people in his church who were committed to selfless service in their daily lives. His examples were inspiring.  He talked about people who visited the sick, people who reached out the poor, people who stood up for justice and for what was right in spite of the possible repercussions.”

On the way out, I was thinking of what a great sermon it was when my friend commented, “You know, not one time did that preacher mention Jesus.”

And he was right. If you did not know anything about the church, on the basis of that sermon, you might think that the church is basically a volunteer social service agency, some sort of well-intentioned civic organization, and nothing more.

I believe this is the danger of being such a mission-minded church. We make the church more about people than we do about God. We say: “The church is not this building on the corner of Church and Main. The Church is not bricks and mortar. The church is the people. The church is me, and the church is you, and the church is about the people who are outside these walls.

That’s a far cry from speaking of the church as: “the body of Christ.”  And it’s a long way from today’s scripture lesson.

The crowds are chasing after Jesus, thinking that he will produce bread on demand. Jesus tries to teach the crowds that they ought to hunger after bread that is eternal life. “I am the bread of life,” he tells them.  That’s what Jesus often does, especially in the gospel of John. He turns our earthly, selfish needs away from ourselves, and toward the things of God, things eternal. This Sunday, as on most Sundays, our scripture lesson is not about us, it is about God.

However, if we are not careful in our culture, and as I said, especially in a progressive, mission-minded church such as ours, it is easy to get confused into thinking that the church is mostly about us, that worship is little more than a pep rally to motivate folks to live better lives, and go out and to serve others, and that the supreme test of our Sunday is that “we get something out of it.”

And yet, it is my duty to tell you, and to keep reminding myself, that “This is not about us.”

What is this about? It is primarily about Jesus, crucified, risen and presently reigning. This is about God. William Willimon once put it this way: “worship is primarily about learning to suppress some of our self-concern and cultivate more God-concern.”  Sunday is a time we confronted with God’s feelings about us. Worship isn’t some pep rally to get us busy doing things for God, but worship is primarily an occasion when we celebrate what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.[i]

There is a word for worship that we don’t use very much. Maybe it’s because we don’t feel it that often. That word is ecstasy. The tragedy is that we probably only think of this as a name for an illicit drug or as some other type of physical arousal. The word ecstasy comes from the Greek, meaning literally to “stand outside one’s self.”

When we are in ecstasy, we stand outside ourselves. That is a very hard thing for modern people like us to do. For our culture encourages us to delve deeper into ourselves, constantly monitor our personal feelings, continually worry about questions like, “What am I feeling now?  What am I thinking?  What am I supposed to be doing?”

Sunday worship is a blessed opportunity to look beyond ourselves, to get outside ourselves.

When I was taking a pastoral care class at Gardner-Webb a few years ago, the professor asked us to share our feelings, to talk about our fears and frustrations, and to courageously look within ourselves. At first, it was a bit awkward, but eventually we all joined in the session. After all, most of us, especially pastors, despite what we say, we really enjoy talking about ourselves.

And yet one of the pastors had very little to say. He said to the group, “I tried looking inside myself on a number of occasions, and frankly, I don’t see much there. To tell the truth, I think I am a rather superficial person, rather weak. I am not sure that I have much of significance to share with the group.”

The professor assured this pastor that this was not the case and that whatever he shared would be significant to the group. I remember thinking that this was a person who obviously needed greater self-confidence. We all encouraged him.

But then the pastor said: “I really feel that some of the most interesting things about me are the things that are outside of me—my relationships, my family and friends, and my God. I think that the most interesting thing about me is that God has chosen me, me with all my inadequacies and failings, to do good work for God. I think that is what makes me special. The significance of my life has come from outside my life.  If I stripped away all those who are outside me—my family, my children, my wife, and the people in my church, and my God, I don’t believe there would be much there.”

I thought that his statement was one of the most profound Christian statements I’d ever heard.  He could have put it another way, namely, “It’s not about me.”

Thanks be to God that it is rather about God, God who loves us so much that God became one of us to save us, to be with us, to give significance to our lives that we could not have given them on our own. Thanks be to God that we are not called to leave this service to love others simply because we are supposed to be good, ethical people. No, we leave this place to love others, because God in Christ first loved us.

[i] The inspiration for this sermon came from a sermon by William Willimon that was printed in Pulpit Resource, Logos Productions, 2006.

Without God, All Things Are Possible (and Probable)

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

without god2 Samuel 11:1-15 NRSV

Psalm 14 NRSV

Ephesians 3:14-21 NRSV

A wonderful facet of Holy Scripture is its sheer candor. Unlike much of other ancient literature, the Bible does not protect its greatest heroes from their shortcomings and failures as sinful human beings. Absent of any spin and bias, the writers tell their sordid stories with astonishing honesty.  Their misconduct and foolishness are laid bare, with remarkable objectivity.

All who take time to study the Bible are privy to the impatience of Moses, the skepticism of Sarah, the reluctance of Jeremiah and the cowardice of Peter. But of all the offensive exploits of God’s special men and women, perhaps none is more despicable than David’s dealings with Bathsheba and her husband Uriah.

David’s treachery is even greater when we compare it to Uriah’s fidelity. Uriah is faithfully defending his country when David learns that Bathsheba is expecting with his child.

David thinks: “I have to cover this up.”

David deceitfully pretends to inquire about the war’s progress, but his real purpose was to devise a reason for Uriah and everyone else to assume that the unborn child naturally belongs to Uriah.

He encourages Uriah to go home to be with Bathsheba so the adulterous affair might not be revealed.

However, Uriah’s integrity and loyalty to his comrades on the battlefield supersedes the hospitality of his wife. Uriah sleeps out back in the servant’s quarters, explaining to David that this was his way of keeping faith with his fellow soldiers.

Frustrated, David tries once again by getting Uriah all liquored up.  However, even while intoxicated, Uriah remains faithful to his comrades by sleeping on the sofa.

Uriah’s loyalty to his troops is especially remarkable when we remember that Uriah is not even a native Israelite, but a Hittite. Yet, his personal code of conduct, his unwavering fidelity repeatedly stands in the way of David’s deceitful plans.

And here is when the story really goes awry. Frustrated by the fidelity of Uriah and knowing that as soon as the child is born it will be clear to all that adultery had been committed, David spirals out of control, desperately, deceitfully and audaciously ordering the death of Uriah.

Perhaps we have all heard the hopeful words of Jesus recorded by Matthew, “With God, all things are possible.” Well, the story of David reveals that the opposite can also be a true.

It was the 19th century Russian philosopher Dostoevsky who penned the phrase, “Without God, everything is permissible.”  Without God, things are quick to go awry, get out of hand. Without God, we all have the propensity to spiral out of control. Without God, everything is possible.

As the Psalmist warns, without God all behavior that is foolish and destructive is not only possible, it has no limits.

Without God, God-created sexual attraction is transformed into selfish lust leading to the objectification and dehumanization of others and sometimes to betrayal, deceit, and even murder.

Without God, a little money earned fosters insatiable greed leading to the exploitation of others, especially the poor.

Without God, the understanding that all of life is a gift from God, that all is grace, is twisted into an egotistical and entitled pride leading to all kinds of bigotry and exclusivity.

Without God, power derived from birth, inheritance, dumb luck, is used to dismiss and to oppress, to abuse and to misuse, those born without power.

Without God, the holy call to forgive as we have been forgiven is replaced by a call to resentment, revenge and malicious acts of violence.

Without God, lies and propaganda breed fear, and fear breeds bitterness, and bitterness breeds anger, and anger breeds hatred, and hatred can provoke a man to take a gun into a movie theater, into a school or into a church and start shooting the innocent.

Without God, narcissism, sexism, racism, extremism, despair, murder, limitless atrocities are not only possible, they are probable.

Walter Brueggeman has correctly observed that: “It is the knowledge of the reality of God present and at work in our world and in our lives which sets limits to destructive possibilities.”

David’s problem was simply a lack of this knowledge. David had become so powerful, so confident and so proud, that he became blind to the reality of God present and at work in our world.

David imagined that he was somehow exempt from the supreme law of God to love his neighbor as himself. David lived his life, made his decisions, and acted out without knowledge of God, as if God did not exist. And it was this self-indulgent lifestyle which brought destruction to him and his family.

I want to suggest that the prayer in our epistle lesson can help us to avoid such foolishness or madness—madness of which we, including yours truly, are all capable.

One does not have to be a King to forget who we are and whose we are. For all of us, perhaps especially us Westerners living in the 21st century, there exists the danger to go too far with our freedom. We are tempted to cross the line with our liberty. In our sinfulness and brokenness we tend to forget that the world in which we live in is bounded by the mysterious but trustworthy love and law of God. We sometimes forget the reality of God present, at work in our world and at work in our lives—we forget that all of life is bounded by God’s inexplicable, but unfailing grace.

I believe the prayer for the church at Ephesus needed to be David’s prayer and needs to be our prayer today.

I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name.

We need to know that God’s connectedness with us is so intimate and so personal that God, God’s self, has named us. God is as close to us as good parents are to their children. We need to know that God cares for us and nurtures us and loves and suffers with us like a devoted parent. We have all heard the phrase, “only a mother could love that man!” God’s love for us is always present. There is no end to its trust, no failing of its hope. It stills stand when all else has fallen. And this love is all we will ever truly need.

I  pray that, according to the riches of his glory that you will be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts as you are being rooted and grounded in love.

We need to know that when we are physically weak, God can and will make us spiritually strong. God can and God will strengthen us to overcome temptations and trials. God will be our conscience and help us through the knowledge of Christ to replace our lust with respect, our resentment with forgiveness, our hatred with love, our disregard and disdain for the poor with a conscience for justice.

I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length, and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge so that you may be filled with the fullness of God.

We need to know that God loves us more than we can possible imagine. This is why the Bible can be so honest and so objective. This is why this book is a canon of candor. This is why misconduct and madness can be laid utterly bare. David can be as sinful as a person can be, and, by the grace of God, be remembered by the Apostle Paul in Acts as “a man after God’s very own heart” (Acts 13:22).

Think about this:  If David understood the breadth and the length and the height and the depth of God’s love and God’s grace, would David have gone as far as he did to cover up his sins?

God’s love for us is so great and so big, that there is nothing in all of creation that can separate us from it, through Christ Jesus our Lord.  Thus, with God, when we expose our sins, when we reveal our shortcomings, when we lay bare our brokenness, when we confess our anger and hate, we are enveloped by an amazing grace that is greater than our sin.

But, if we ignore our sins without God, never confess it, pretend it doesn’t exist, conceal it by calling it by another name, try to somehow justify it, then, well, anything is possible.

The good news is that the breadth and length and height and depth of God’s love is so great and so intimate and so personal that it has the power to make all that is destructive in this world simply impossible.

Without God, things can go completely awry. Without God, all Hell will break loose. Without God, all things are possible. But with God, there are many things that are impossible.

With God, unforgiveness is impossible.

With God, absolute loneliness is impossible.

With God, being completely lost is impossible.

With God, utter despair is impossible.

With God, being unaccepted, unloved and unworthy is impossible.

With God, spiraling out of control into utter madness is impossible.

With God, saying things or doing things or voting for things that harm our neighbors, especially our neighbors whom the Bible calls the least of these, without a conscience that that names these sins and calls us to repent to obey the supreme law of God to love neighbor as self is impossible.

With God, coming to church, praying, singing hymns and listening to a sermon without a divine call and a holy conviction to leave the comfort of this sanctuary to go out into a dangerous world to be the church, to do the things that Jesus did, lifting up the lowly, seeking out the lost, healing the sick, speaking truth to power, and confronting and challenging and exorcising all kinds of evil, is impossible.

With God, total destructiveness, eternal death, and all Hell breaking loose is impossible.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.  Amen.

The More You Know…

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

Buechner Blessing and Healing

John 3:1-17 NRSV

Our church has always believed very strongly in education. This one of the reasons that we have a graduate recognition Sunday.

Our church also believes it is very important to always ask questions. Our church has never been the kind of church that expects its members to “check their brain at the door” before entering on Sunday mornings. Like our forefathers Barton Stone and Thomas and Alexander Campbell, we encourage free-thinking and open minds here. We believe that God created our minds to ask questions—even the hard questions of life and faith.

I know of some churches where people are taught never to question anything.  They are expected to go to church with the sole expectation to be indoctrinated with whatever the minister says. Not here.

Believing very strongly in the historic principle of the “Priesthood of All Believers,” our church encourages and even expects free thought and the free expression of ideas. You are your own priest. No one here is expected to agree with everything that is said from this pulpit. You are always free to examine, to mull over, and perhaps, even seek an entirely different word from God.

One of the reasons we encourage such questioning is that we do not believe anyone here, including the one who does the most talking on Sunday mornings, has, or will ever have, all of answers. We come to church recognizing that we will never be able to get our hands on, wrap our arms around, all there is to know about this mystery we call God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

During a Wednesday night supper, an eight year-old little girl came and sat beside me. She said, “Dr. Banks.”

Not many people address me in that manner. I kind of liked it. Made me feel smart, scholarly, intellectual! “Yes, how can I help you?” I responded.

She said, “I’ve got a lot of questions about God.”

I thought to myself, “Well, my dear little one, you’ve certainly come to the right place.”

She then asked, “Where exactly do dogs go when they die?”

I thought for a second or two, and responded the only way I knew how. I just looked at her—in dumbfounded silence

A little impatient, she asked, “Do they go to doggie heaven or to regular heaven with the rest of us?”

It was then I had to admit it, “I really don’t know.”

I could see the disappointment on her face. But she quickly moved on to her next question: “How old are people in heaven?”

Again, dumbfounded silence.

Frustrated she asked, “You know, if you die as a baby will you be a baby when you get to heaven? Or if you die as an old lady, will you be an old lady in heaven?”

Again, I had to say “I really don’t know?”

It was then she said, “You know something? For a doctor, you sure don’t know much.” She didn’t ask me any more questions.

No, the truth is, for someone who not only has a doctorate, but someone who has hardly missed a Sunday in church for the last forty-eight and a half years, I really don’t know that much.” All learned after spending a few moments with an eight-year old.

That is why I love ol’ Nicodemus.  For Nicodemus also discovered that he didn’t know that much either after spending just few moments with Jesus.

The very educated and esteemed Nicodemus, a leader of the Jewish Pharisees, came to Jesus full of questions. “Rabbi,” how can a man be born when he is old?” and “Can you enter the womb a second time and be born?” and “How can this be?”  And through all these questions, Nicodemus is asking another question, “Who are you anyway Jesus?’

When it all comes down to it, isn’t that THE question? Isn’t that the reason we are here every Sunday morning? We come asking, “Who is this Jesus anyway?”

We, like Nicodemus, have heard some rumors about the amazing things Jesus has done. And we have been listening to his teachings and have heard just enough to be confused. And we’ve got questions. Can we really believe everything we have heard about Jesus? How can he be both an earthly human being and God at the same time? How can his spirit be both ascended into heaven yet still here with us?

Notice that although it is Nicodemus who begins the conversation here, by the time our passage ends, it is Jesus who is doing most of the talking. Nicodemus appears to be just sitting there in dumbfounded silence.

For you see, Nicodemus thought he would be able to go to Jesus and grasp Jesus. Nicodemus thought he could go to Jesus and figure Jesus out, get his hands on Jesus, wrap his arms around Jesus—understand, define Jesus.

Nicodemus learned what most of us already know: Sometimes when we come to Jesus with questions, Jesus doesn’t give us easy answers. I’m not sure if Nicodemus got any of his questions answered that night. However, the good news is that Nicodemus got something better. Nicodemus went to Jesus hoping to understand him, put his hands on him, wrap his arms around him, but instead, it was Jesus understood Nicodemus. It was Jesus who put his hands on and lovingly wrapped his arms around him.

So this morning, I want us to take Nicodemus as our model. While you are here this morning in the presence of Christ, I want you to ask Jesus whatever is on your mind. Go ahead and use all of your God-given mental capacities, use every ounce of intellect to try to think about Jesus this morning. Listen to what he has to say. And then, simply enjoy being with him.

Give thanks that we have the sort of God who wants more than anything else to be with us, who descends to us, who speaks to us, who shares truth with us, even if we cannot comprehend the wholeness of that truth.

There are a lot of people who have a great disdain for us church folks. Because they erroneously believe that Christians are those people who have it all figured out. They believe church goers are people who have had all of their questions about Jesus answered. And I am afraid they have good reasons for believing that.

I heard one pastor describe a member of his church who was convinced that he had all the answers. He said: “He is very stubborn and close-minded about everything!”  He said, “If he gets to heaven and discovers that things up there are a little different, he is the type that would get mad and ask for a transfer!”

No, the truth is, as William Willimon has said, “Jesus is that illusive, free, sovereign and living God who makes sense out of us, rather than our making sense out of him.” Every Sunday we risk coming to him, listening to him and following him, even when we do not always grasp what he’s talking about and know precisely where he’s leading us.

Notice that Jesus speaks to Nicodemus about wind and birth. For what in our world is more mysterious than wind and birth? In meeting Jesus, we come face to face with a living God. And we cannot define him. We can’t put our hands on, wrap our arms around him. The good news is that it is he who defines us.  It is he who puts his hands on and wraps his arms around us—And beckons us to follow him even if we do not always understand him.

This is exactly what happened to Nicodemus. We meet Nicodemus again sixteen chapters later in John’s gospel. When Jesus was crucified, when most of his disciples deserted him, Nicodemus was one of the few people who were there to lovingly bury Jesus.

I’m sure Nicodemus still had even more questions on that Good Friday. How could it be that this one sent from God, this Savior of the world, be so horribly crucified?

But there, at the foot of the cross, Nicodemus doesn’t ask questions. He simply does what is right. He simply followed. By being associated with Jesus, a condemned criminal, Nicodemus risks his reputation, and even his life. He proves, in the most loving of ways, that one does not have to have Jesus completely figured out to follow Jesus.

If we take Nicodemus as our model, the question for us then is this, “Will we follow Jesus even if we cannot put our hands on him, even if we don’t always understand him?” The good news is that if we say yes, if we promise to walk with him, Jesus promises that he will walk with us forever. For faith is not in the understanding. Genuine faith is in the following.

Frederick Buechner has written: “You do not need to understand healing to be healed or know anything about blessing to be blessed.”

I would add that you do not need to understand the miracle of life to breathe. You do not need to understand the marvel of love to be loved and to share love. You do not need to comprehend the gift of grace to receive it and to offer it to others.  And you never need to figure out the holy wonder of the Trinity, the divine relationship of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, to be an eternal part of that relationship. You do not need to ever grasp Jesus to follow Jesus and have Jesus grasp you.

The Birth of New Life

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

PentecostSunday_wide_tActs 2:1-21 NRSV

Here are just a few things my mother taught me…

 My Mother taught me about ANTICIPATION…

“You just wait until your father gets home.”

My Mother taught me about RECEIVING….

“When we get home, you’re going to get it!”

My Mother taught me to MEET A CHALLENGE…

“Answer me when I talk to you! And don’t talk back to me!”

My Mother taught me LOGIC…

“If you fall out off that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.

My Mother taught me HUMOR…

“When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.”

My Mother taught me about GENETICS…

“You’re just like your father.”

My Mother taught me about my ROOTS…

“Shut that door!  Do you think you were raised in a barn!”

And last but certainly not least, my Mother taught me about JUSTICE…

“One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!

And, of course, all of our mothers taught us something even more important—something about this wonderful gift we call “life.” There is absolutely nothing any of us ever did to earn or deserve this most precious gift. But here we are!—Inexplicable gifts from God, birthed through our mothers.

Pentecost is often referred to as the day the God gave birth to the Church—the day when the outpouring of God’s energy through the Holy Spirit swept down like wind and fire and touched every one who had gathered for the Jewish festival. New Testament professor Beverly Gaventa writes that the essential message of Pentecost is:  “Sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life!”

And this new life came in dramatic, indescribable fashion. Gaventa writes: “It is as if not even the most lavish use of human language is capable of capturing the experiences of the day.” She writes: “All of the stops on the literary organ are employed: a heavenly sound like rushing wind, descending fire, and patterns of transformed speech.” That’s because there are just no words to describe this sudden, unmerited, irresistible gift of new life!

Brooks and Jenny and Chase, Pentecost is like holding precious little Andrew White in your arms: feeling his soft skin pressed up against yours, smelling his sweet head, listening to his precious sounds. There are just no words in any language to describe it.

If only we, living today in the 21st century, could have been there on that day. Think of what First Christian Church could be, rather would be, if we could have been present on the Day of Pentecost. Think of impact we would have in eastern North Carolina and in our world if you and I received this indescribable gift of the outpouring of God’s energy. Think of all we could accomplish together for the honor and glory of God.

But we were not there, were we? Unfortunately, we were born nearly 2000 years too late. The Day of Pentecost was just a one-day, one-time event in human history, and we missed it all! God simply does not work that way in our world anymore!

Well, I don’t believe that, and I have this sense that you don’t either.

Theology Professor, Robert Wall, points out that the Pentecost experience of God’s Spirit occurred not only once, but is repeated several times in Acts. The images and language of Pentecost, Walls says, “are routinely recalled to interpret subsequent outpourings of God’s Spirit as the constant testimony to God’s continuing faithfulness.”

In the eighth chapter of the book of Acts, we read that after Peter and John laid their hands on the people of Samaria, they received the Holy Spirit.” They received sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life.

In the tenth chapter of Acts we read that while Peter was still preaching, “the Holy Spirit came on all who had heard the message. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were all astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles. For they heard them speaking in tongues and praising God.”

Again, in the eleventh chapter Peter says, “As I began to speak the Holy Spirit fell upon them just as it had upon us in the beginning.”

In the nineteenth chapter of Acts, after Paul baptizes twelve people in Ephesus, we read:  “After Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied.”

Throughout Acts we learn that Pentecost, the gift of sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life is not a one-day, one-time event in human history. The gift of Pentecost is an experience which is repeated and repeated often in our world. And it is still being repeated today.

The good news is that we have experienced the possibilities of Pentecost, the promise of the birth of new life, on numerous occasions. We have all experienced those special occasions where we were showered with the inexplicable gift of new life, sudden, unmerited, and irresistible. We have all experienced new beginnings, fresh starts and second chances.

The exhilarating discovery that a new baby is on the way.  The miraculous birth of that baby. The dedication of that baby in a worship service. The excitement of a new job.  The anticipation of a new school. The possibilities of a new marriage.  The promise of new friendships. Yes, we have all experienced the grand possibilities which come with new beginnings, fresh starts and second chances.

And it is not only in the special events of life that we experience these possibilities. I believe when we consider that all of life is a gift of God’s grace, there is no event which is so ordinary that the Spirit of God is not present in it. Frederick Buechner writes that God’s Spirit can be found in the most common of places, “always hiddenly, always leaving room to recognize him or not to recognize him, but all the more fascinatingly because of that, all the more compellingly and hauntingly.” Because all of life is a gift of God’s grace, inexplicable new life can be experienced everywhere!  Buechner writes that it can be found “Taking your children to school, and kissing your wife goodbye. Eating lunch with a friend.  Trying to do a decent day’s work.  Hearing the rain patter against the window.”

Yes, the possibilities of Pentecost are everywhere, but I believe it is most real right here in this place we call church.

On this day as we dedicate Andrew to God, our thoughts are turned towards family—our parents, grandparents, our children and grandchildren. We cannot begin to count the number of times we’ve experienced the gush of new life within the context of family.

However, sometimes I think we need to be reminded that Jesus’ concept of family was often much broader than ours. One day while he was teaching, someone interrupted him and said, “Your mother and brother are waiting for you outside.”  Jesus turned, and pointed to the crowd and said, “Here are my brothers, here are my mothers.  Here is my family.”

Yes, I believe that here, in this place, with our family of faith, the power of Pentecost is most real—as we worship and fellowship together, but also as we serve and reach out together.

I do not believe it is a coincidence that in Acts we read that the gift of the Holy Spirit often came after Peter or Paul laid their hands on others. I believe one of the best ways to usher in the possibilities of Pentecost is by reaching out and personally touching others.

God’s energy is released and sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life comes when graciously serve a meal to someone hungry, when we tenderly caress the forehead of someone in the nursing home, when we gently hold someone’s hand in the hospital, and when we empathetically embrace someone in the funeral home.

Pentecost comes when we, the body of Christ, lay our hands, which, by the way, are the hands of Christ, on all who are in need. Pentecost comes, when we seek out someone who has wronged us offering a handshake of forgiveness or a hug of mercy, offering the grace of friendship. Pentecost comes when we reach out and hold the hand of an outsider.

Pentecost—sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life comes. New beginnings, fresh starts, and second chances can come to us in the ordinariness of life, and most specifically, through the many opportunities we have as the body of Christ to offer personal touches of grace to one another.

And the really good news is that this sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life comes to all of us with faith in Christ when our lives on this earth are complete.

Peter, in his sermon, recalls the words of the prophet Joel. He recalls the signs Joel says are a prelude to disaster—blood, fire, darkness and smoky mist. However, the death and destruction prophesied by Joel is transformed on Peter’s tongue into a declaration of new life.  For Joel, these signs of the outpouring of God’s Spirit are a prelude to disaster. For Peter, with faith in the risen Christ, these signs of God’s energy released are a prelude to the redemption of humankind.

When each of us comes face to face with our own deaths, God, with the power of Pentecost, redeems our deaths and replaces our deaths with sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life.

Pentecost—this is our hope.  And this is our purpose.  May First Christian Church, who may not have been present on that day nearly 2000 years ago, but has, in so many ways, experienced this power of Pentecost nonetheless, work together to share this gift of new life with this community and with our world. May we share it with our words, but also through the laying on of our hands, so that sudden, unmerited, irresistible new life may rain down from heaven like wind and fire and touch everyone!

Spring Cleaning Our Mouths

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B2 Comments

wash+mouthJohn 2:13-22 NRSV

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Jesus showed up one Sunday morning in church? Would he politely take an order of service from a deacon and quietly find a place in the pews? Would he stand for the call to worship, sing from the hymnal and say the Lord’s Prayer? Would he eat the bread and drink from the cup? Would he put money in the plate when it was passed? Would he earnestly and respectively listen to the sermon, without any reply or retort?

Or would he have something to say? Would anything here anger him or incite him to take some sort of action? Would he take a look at how we were doing church and want to do a little spring cleaning? Would he take a whip and drive any of us out? Would he turn over table or two? Would he come up here to the pulpit and take my sermon notes and tear them to shreds?

Because that is kinda what he did when he visited the Temple in Jerusalem before the Passover. You might say that he did a little spring cleaning. Most scholars point out that it wasn’t so much that the people were exchanging money or selling in the Temple that burned Jesus up, but it was the manner in which they were doing it. The common practice was to charge oppressive amounts of interest, taxes and fees to exchange currency. And when selling cattle, sheep and doves for Passover, it was a common practice to take advantage of and rip off the poor. Just like today, those who can afford the least, often have to pay the most.

So what angered Jesus is how the religious establishment was preying on and hurting others. And this this text is asking: “Is there anything that the church does today that hurts other people?” “What is it about church today that needs a good spring cleaning?”

I try to talk to people every week who never attended church, or who no longer attend church. And when I ask them why they are not a part of church, they often tell me that they have been deeply hurt by the church. “How?” I ask. “By words,” they say.

The truth is: words have tremendous power. The Epistle of James says it well:

How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so (James 3).

Nathan Parrish, a pastor friend of mine in Winston-Salem said that a mother in his church shared with him her outrage one Sunday after church. She said that during the week, her ten year-old boy came home from football practice and told her that the coach had the audacity to say that “he hit like a girl.” My friend Nathan responded: “The message starts early doesn’t it?”

She asked: “What do you mean?”

Nathan said: “Our children learn it while they are young, don’t they? That females are the weaker sex and need to be kept in their place.”

Laura Johnson, the pastor of Broad Street Christian Church in New Bern, has said that as a female pastor people give her qualified compliments all the time: “Laura, that was a great sermon…for a woman.” “Laura, you are a good pastor, for a girl.”

The message starts early, and it is pervasive. And it is prevalent in many churches. Through patriarchal language, the exclusive use of male pronouns to refer to God, men are touted as being somehow closer to God than women. Thus, in many churches, only men can be the leaders, and women are pushed to a more subservient place. The men belong in the church boardroom; whereas the women belong in the church kitchen.

Words indeed have great power and can cause tremendous harm. So, if Jesus was coming to our church do a little spring cleaning, he would perhaps start with our mouths. So what words in our church vocabulary do you think Jesus would want to drive out with a whip? What words or church expressions would be among the first to be cleaned out? What about:

We’ve never done it that way before, or worse, You are in my seat?

When these words are spoken at church, they almost always mean “new ideas, new ways of thinking, new approaches to ministry, and new people are not welcome here.” These words espouse a “This-is-my-church-my-house philosophy. It is what the gospel writer meant when he said: “then the disciples remembered what was written: ‘Zeal for your house will consume me.’” And any words espousing that this is our house and not God’s house have the power to kill a church. There was a great book written nearly thirty years ago that many churches who are closing their doors for good today failed to read. It was called The Seven Last Words of the Church: We’ve Never Done It that Way Before.”

The Bible clearly says…

As I said this past Wednesday night, whenever I hear this expression, I get a little nervous. You may have heard that there are many elected officials and TV evangelists in our country who would like to transform the United States into a Theocracy. That means that they would like to take the laws of God found in the Bible and make them the laws of the land. That is how they want to bring God’s kingdom to earth. While a theocracy may sound good to many Christians at first, it really all depends on who Theo is, doesn’t it? Who gets to pick and interpret the laws that they want others to obey? Whenever people talk about enforcing or legislating biblical morality, they are almost always thinking: “There is only one interpretation of the Bible, and it is mine!” However their interpretation may be the polar opposite of your interpretation that you try to discern through the words and works of Jesus.

ve the sinner and hate the sin.

 A couple of weeks ago I said that these words infer that we can somehow separate the sin from the sinner; however, sin is so much a part of our DNA, so much a part of who we are in this fragmented world, that it simply cannot be avoided. And when we think that we have reached some sort of spiritual pinnacle that we can somehow avoid sin, we contradict who Jesus calls us to be by becoming arrogant, proud, snooty and judgmental. And we drive people away from the church in droves.  We say: “But I don’t do the things that so-in-so does!” That might be good; however, we just need to understand that just because we don’t, we are not any less of a sinner than so-in-so.”

If you died today, do you know where you would spend eternity?

I believe in heaven and hell, but the truth is that when we infer that following Jesus should only be done for purely selfish reasons, to receive some award instead of punishment, then we miss the whole point of who Jesus is and who he calls us to be. Jesus calls us not to save our lives, but to lose our lives. Jesus calls us to live a  self-giving, self-expending life rooted in radical selflessness. Jesus never said, “Follow me and go to heaven.” He said, “follow me and carry a cross.”

And then there are the classics:

God has God’s reasons.

God does not make mistakes.

God will not put any more on us than we can bear.

It’s God’s will and we will just have to accept it.

These words have probably caused more people to leave the church, and leave God, than any others. There is no telling how many people have reached the conclusion: “If God is the one who caused my baby to die, if God is the reason behind my divorce, if God created my loved one to suffer, if God put all of these financial hardships on me, then I would be better off living in Hell for all of eternity than with a God like that.”

I believe many Protestant churches, in an attempt to distance themselves from Catholicism, have tried to teach the faith while avoiding the pain and suffering of Jesus. We look at the crucifix and say, “My Lord is not on the cross! He is living today in heaven! However, when we move too casually through the season of Lent, too quickly through Holy Week, and even skip Good Friday to get to Easter, we miss what may be the most important tenet of the Christian faith: that our God is a God who suffers. God is not seated on a throne far removed from the creation, pressing buttons, pulling levers, causing human misery, but our God is here in the midst of human pain, suffering with us, alongside us. So, in a way, our God is still on the cross today. As long as there is human life, our God is still emptying God’s self, pouring God’s self out. Our God is a God who grieves, agonizes, and bleeds. Our God is never working against us, but always for us, creating and recreating, resurrecting, doing all that God can do to wring whatever good can be wrung out of life’s most difficult moments.

It is almost Passover. And once again, Jesus is visiting the Temple. Jesus is coming, and he’s cleaning house. He is taking a whip and driving out all that we do, and maybe more importantly, all that we say in the name of God that harms others.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.