Category: Sermons Year C

Sermons based on the Revised Common Lectionary.

I Smell Smoke

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C6 Comments

Fire.jpgLuke 3:15-17 NRSV

Sometimes it astonishes me that I am a pastor today, because as a child, I remember going to church on Sunday mornings and being bored out of my mind. Each Sunday my family in the same pew. We followed the same order of service, sang the same hymns, prayed the same prayers, heard the same ol’ stories, and looked at the back of the same ol’ heads.

I remember doing all kinds of things to pass the time, like counting the number of times the preacher would wipe the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. I also remember holding mama’s hand and playing with her jewelry, turning the rings on her fingers, messing with her bracelets. And when she would get tired of all of that, I would just sit there and twiddle my thumbs, while secretly hoping and praying for something, anything, to happen.

Lord, if you really love me, why don’t you send a mouse running down the aisle, or through the choir loft? And Lord, if you really loved me, maybe a cat chasing the mouse! Please, Lord, let something, anything happen!

I’ll never forget that one glorious Sunday my prayers were answered. In the middle of the typical, predictable service, while we were singing the offertory hymn, we began to smell this smell. Then came the whispering. The hymn became more mumbling than singing. I heard Daddy murmur, “I think I smell smoke.” Mama whispered back, “Gene, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

Then, in the middle of the half-hearted singing and murmuring, someone in the congregation shouted it: “Fire!”

We then did what most folks do when someone yells “fire” in a crowded building. We got out. Standing outside we discovered that the furnace had overheated.

It was too smoky to go back inside and too cold to stay outside, so after the pastor made the announcement about the furnace, he passed an offering plate (that he just so happened to conveniently grab on his way out door), skipped the sermon, and immediately pronounced the Benediction.

It was one of the best worship services that I’ve ever attended!

As a pastor, there have been many Sundays I’ve thought about that exciting day in church and secretly wished that it could somehow be repeated. In the middle of the service, oftentimes in the middle of my sermon, I have looked at the congregation, some distracted, some nodding off to sleep, some flipping through the hymnal, some playing on their phones, and thought, “What we need here is for somebody, anybody, to stand up in this place and yell “fire!”

Well, this week we’re in luck, because somebody is coming to do just that! In the middle of our order of service comes this shocking introduction by John the Baptist:

 I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming…He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

And nine chapters later, Jesus affirmed these words by proclaiming:

Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you…I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!

I believe we really need to hear these words because of how these words cut across the grain of why most of us, especially us grown-ups, come to this predictable place to worship Sunday after Sunday. Children may still pray for something exciting to happen at church, but we adults know better. We know that nothing ever really happens here. Nothing ever changes. If we’ve never done it that way before, then we’re not going to be doing it anytime soon! And you know something? We like it that way.

We come here seeking a place of comfort and rest. Because, after all, it seems as if our lives are always running on fast-forward, always moving, constantly changing. So, each Sunday we gather here, to slow down and sit down, to center ourselves, to get grounded, to touch base with the things that are stable and dependable, even if it is sometimes boring.

In our fast-paced world where we have grown accustomed to burning the candles at both ends to make ends meet, we like to come to this sacred place to cool down, quiet down and settle down. In a world ablaze with constant change and ceaseless activity, we need a place, if just for an hour or so, to just chill out. So here we are. The problem is: Here comes someone who does something as audacious as yelling “fire” in a crowded building!

When we least expect it, and perhaps least desire it, John the Baptist stands up and says, “Someone who is more powerful than me is coming, and he’s bringing the heat!”

Moses was running away from his problems. He was looking for some sanctuary, a place to escape from it all. He was laying back, and he was laying low. Then, out of nowhere comes, you guessed it, fire! A bush burst into flames. Then comes a voice that lights a fire under Moses. “Moses, I have a purpose for you, yes even you Moses, with all of your problems and excuses. I expect you to stand up to the Pharaoh, speak truth to power and liberate the oppressed!”

And John says that Jesus is coming to those of us today who just want to sit back and lay back, “I’m consumed with that “burning-bush” blaze and I intend to light a fire under you for I have a purpose for everyone of you. Like Moses, I also expect you to always stand up, speak up and speak out on the behalf of the oppressed and the marginalized, proclaiming with your words and your deeds liberty and justice for all.”

The children of Israel were set free. But shortly thereafter, they began complaining, “You know Moses, at least as slaves of the Pharaoh, we had three meals a day. At least the status-quo gave us some sense of stability, security and certainty. But out here in the wilderness, we sometimes don’t know whether we are coming or going!”

Do you remember the response of God?

God said, “You poor, poor babies. I’m so sorry. Let me slow things down a bit and let you build a comfy and cozy sanctuary to shelter you from the wilderness. Let me give you some nice padded pew cushions, so you can sit down and take a load off. I’ll send you a preacher to sooth your spirits, a pastor to hold your hands and tell you only the things you want to hear.”

No, God said, “I’ll give you fire, a pillar of fire leading you out into the darkness, driving you towards your purpose, pulling you into my future. I’m giving you fire to lead you out of the sanctuary into the wilderness to be the embodiment of my grace for all people.”

And here comes John, saying to those of us today who just want to unwind and relax, saying to a new pastor whose kids are grown who may be tempted to spend the second half of his ministry playing a little golf while playing a little church: “Jesus is coming, and he is kindling that same Exodus fire. And he’s going to light you up and show you gifts you never knew you possessed, reveal opportunities your never dreamed possible, and take you to places you’ve never been!”

To give hope to an Israel conquered by Babylon, the prophet Daniel described the throne of God. But unlike most thrones, God’s throne is not stationary and immovable. No, the prophet says that God sits on a throne that has wheels. God’s reign is active, turning, moving, going places. And they are not just any wheels. Daniel says that they are wheels of blazing fire.

And here comes John saying to those of us who oftentimes feel conquered and defeated, cowering behind stained glass windows, set in our ways: “Jesus is coming with his kingdom on those same wheels of fire to liberate you, but not without first changing you, challenging you, and moving you to take action.”

The disciples were gathered together going through the motions, following the order of worship. The deacons were making sure everyone had a bulletin, everyone was comfortable and seated, typical boring service; then, at some point, perhaps in the middle of the offertory hymn, somebody stood up and shouted, “fire!”

We call that day the day of Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit showed up as fire. William Willimon says that on that day, “the church was born in the crucible, in the furnace of God’s fire. [And here comes Jesus, saying to those of us today who have come to this place to check out and chill out], ‘My Spirit is ablaze with that same Pentecostal fire, and I’m looking for a few good men and women, boys and girls, who are combustible!’”[i]

The truth is that when our church becomes nothing but a safe, static sanctuary, a place of secure stability where nothing ever changes, a place where we can cool off, cool down and just for sixty-minutes a week, chill out, we are not fulfilling our purpose as disciples of Christ, and we are not the incendiary force that Jesus ignites us to be. And we are one boring sight, to God as well as to the world.

Yet, when we be become ignited, fired up, and disrupted; when we allow ourselves to be engaged and challenged by the Christ; when we decide to not only worship Jesus but to follow Jesus; when we commit to not just go to church but to be the church; when we move our church out of the sanctuary into the world, each of us using the gifts we have been given by the fiery Holy Spirit to serve others, to truly love all people as we love ourselves; when we lose ourselves and become caught up in the mission and movement of God, discovering God’s purpose for us, I believe we become a purifying blaze, a glorious site to behold, to God, as well as to the world.

When others see that this church looks like the fiery Holy Spirit of Jesus, when they see that we understand…

Church is not about bringing people in to receive a blessing. It is about sending people out to be a blessing.

Church is not about changing people to be who you want them to be. It is about allowing God to change them to be who God wants them to be.

Church is not about feeding our souls. It is about feeding the hungry.

Church is not about finding a home. It is about welcoming the outsider.

Church is not about acquiring spiritual riches. It is about giving to the poor.

Church is not about learning how to be successful and get ahead. It is about sacrificially sharing with people who can barely get by.

Church is not about gaining eternal life for ourselves. It is about dying to ourselves…

When they see us adopting an entire class at Vance Airforce base, meeting and accepting them where they are; when they see us opening our doors to a Hispanic congregation; when they see us visiting the nursing homes and caring for the most vulnerable among us; when they see us throwing a dance party for the disabled; when they see us defending the rights of the marginalized; when they see us feeding and clothing the impoverished; when they see us continually participating in various hands-on mission projects in our city, throughout our region and around the world; when they read on our website, “All Are Welcome,” and they experience our commitment to a gracious inclusion and begin to realize that, that unlike many churches, all really does means all; when they see that we are willing to change and adapt, even reorganize, to meet the needs of a hurting and changing world; when they see that we have different beliefs, follow different politics and even different orders of worship, yet are forged together as one by the love of Christ; when they see the warm glow of Jesus burning in us and through us and from us, I believe that many here in Northwestern Oklahoma will want to catch fire with us and join us in lighting up this city and and our world.

The question today is: Will Central Christian Church accept a baptism of unquenchable fire? I believe I know the answer to this question. Because today, here in this place, the good news is: I smell smoke.  Let us pray.

Lord Jesus, rekindle us, ignite us, set us on fire and enflame us in passionate love for you and for others. Draw us out of the confines of our safe and predictable faith. Prod us, move us, pull us into an adventuresome discipleship. And may we forever burn brightly with your love for us all.  Amen.

[i] This part of the sermon was inspired and adapted from a sermon preached by William Willimon, entitled Fire!

Finding Christmas

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

Amazing Grace

Here we are. It’s the fourth and final Sunday of Advent. Time is running out. Christmas is only a few days away. Have you been looking for it? Have you been searching for it? Have you been yearning for it?

If so, have you been looking in the right places?

No, not in the shopping mall; not under the tree in the living room; not hanging in a stocking on the fireplace; not in the kitchen or in the dining room; not at the party; and, as fun as it was to try, not even under the mistletoe. Have you been looking for Christmas in the only place that Christmas can be found? Have you been looking for Christmas out in the wilderness, far from the lights of downtown?

Have you heard and accepted the God’s honest truth, even if that truth is difficult to swallow? Have you been able to openly and truthfully say: “The choices I have made on my own have not brought me fulfillment. My freedom, my material wealth, my high tech gadgets, a nice home, a nice car, a seven-day vacation, even a wife, two kids and a dog are not enough. I need something more! The truth is: I am standing the middle of the wilderness, and I am utterly lost!”

Have you heard and accepted the truth that none of us are who we ought to be. I’m not alright. You’re not alright. None of God’s children are alright. Each of us stands in desperate need of a savior. More than anything else, we need a savior to search us and know our hearts, to test us and know our thoughts, to see the wicked ways in us and then lead us into the way everlasting.

Lost in the wilderness of life, have we asked God to take an ax and cut us down, or kindle a fire to purge us, so we can be reborn, so we can start over afresh and anew, so we can be cleansed and changed and completely transformed forever?

I believe this is exactly where we find Mary in this morning’s gospel lesson. In one of most beautiful songs in the entire Bible, Mary’s humility and recognition of need is clearly evident. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”

New Testament Scholar Alan Culpepper has noted: Mary’s “confession [of] ‘Savior’ expresses the desperate need of the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the hungry.” Those who have it all—freedom, family, a lot of stuff—those who Culpepper says have “power and means, privilege and position, have no need sufficient to lead them to voice such a term that is itself a plea for help.” Savior.

To confess that God is our Savior means that when we discover our lostness in middle of the wilderness, we do not look to some other power for salvation.” When we confess God as savior we are making the announcement that “neither technology nor social progress, neither education nor legislated reforms will deliver us…from [our] meaningless lives.” The only one who can save us is the God revealed through the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

The first words from the one chosen to be mother of the Messiah’s lips are an acknowledgment that she is but a poor soul lost in the wilderness standing in desperate need of a savior. And the good news is: this is all that Mary does.

Luke does not give us one clue in his narrative or any indication to why she was chosen or what her attributes might be. Luke tells us far more about Zechariah and Elizabeth than he tells us about Mary. All we are told about Mary that warrants this blessing is the acknowledgment that she is a lowly servant in need of a savior. Mary has done nothing more.

Mary continues: “Surely all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”

Notice who is doing all of the acting: “He has shown strength with his arm; He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; He has brought down the powerful from their thrones; He has lifted up the lowly; He has filled the hungry with good things, and He sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy.”

God is doing it all. God is doing all the acting. The only thing that Mary does is acknowledge her need for a savior. God does the rest.

This is good news of the gospel. In our looking and searching and yearning and seeking, we don’t find Christmas, Christmas finds us. When we go to the wilderness, acknowledge our need for salvation, hear the truth that we need to change, ask God to cut and prune and burn, allow God to have God’s way with us, Christmas comes to us.

This week, I read about a certain Christmas play that a local church was presenting. You know the kind. I used to be in one every year when I was growing up. Three boys playing shepherds are bare-footed, wearing bath robes with towels wrapped around their heads and carrying long sticks. And three more boys playing wise men wearing cardboard Burger-King crowns wrapped in Reynolds Wrap are carrying boxes decorated with left-over Christmas garland. They all walk up on the chancel, greet Mary and Joseph, and bow down before the baby Jesus.

Well, during one particular play, after the wise men and shepherds came and bowed before Jesus, a spokesperson for the wise men made an announcement: “We three kings have traveled from the East to bring the baby Jesus gifts of gold, circumstance and mud.” Of course, laughter filled the sanctuary.

But you know what they say: “out of the mouth of babes.”

The truth is that when God wanted to reveal God’s love for the world, God came to us through the person of Jesus born in Bethlehem to meet us in all of our circumstances.

Through Christ, God came to us and still comes into the wilderness to meet us in the circumstance of our lostness and offers us salvation.

Through Christ, God came to us and still comes to us to meet us in the circumstance of our weakness and offers us strength.

Through Christ, God came to us and still comes to us to meet us in the circumstance of our guilt and offers us forgiveness.

When we acknowledge where we are and who we are and what we need, God comes to us through Christ and finds us in all of our circumstances and offers us the assurance that there is no circumstance on earth or in heaven which is beyond God’s amazing grace.

And coming as a human being, coming into the world as a fleshly body, a body made up of dust and water, God comes and joins us in our mud.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of despair and gives us hope.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of sickness and brings us healing.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of loneliness and shares divine presence.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of fear and gives us peace.

Nancy Smith, a member of this church, with no family in this area, has spent most of the last two months alone in the hospital. She suffered a heart attack which has exasperated her COPD. This week, short of breath, she said to me, “Although I get very afraid at times, I know I am going to be alright, because God is with me.”

Nancy was saying: “No matter my circumstance, no matter how muddy my life becomes, everything is going to be alright.” Nancy was saying: “I will be victorious because the creator of all that is, loves me so much that he came into and still comes into my worst circumstances and into my deepest mud and finds me.”

I believe one of the most perverted things about the church today is that it is full of people who believe that they are the ones who have found Christmas. They have everything figured out. They have all of the answers. They no longer see through a glass darkly. Thus, they are the first to judge others, the first to point out the sins of others. They believe they have somehow gotten themselves good enough, wise enough, clean enough, and straight enough to find Christmas. They boast: “I’ve found Jesus!” “I’ve got Jesus! “I’ve accepted Jesus into my heart!”

Which begs the question: “What made them ever think Jesus was the one who was lost, the one who needs to be accepted?”

The good news of Christmas is that it is Jesus who wants to find us, accept us, get a hold of us, and transform us. Jesus does not want us to take him into our hearts. Jesus wants to take us into his heart. Jesus wants us to know his heart, feel his heart, share his heart.

Jesus wants us to feel his heart that beats not for those who casually have him all figured out, but beats for those who stand in awe of his mystery from generation to generation.

Jesus wants us to feel his heart beating not for the proud and their accomplishments who will be scattered, not for the powerful and their influence who will be brought down, and not for the rich and their greed who will be sent away empty.

Jesus wants us to feel a heart beating for the lowly who will be lifted, feel a heart bleeding for the hungry who will be filled with good things, feel a heart pulsating for the afraid who will be given a peace beyond their understanding, feel a heart pounding for the lost who will be found.

Jesus wants us to experience a heart that is filled with a love so unconditional and a grace so free that it changes our hearts and compels us to share that love and grace with all people.

Here we are. It’s the fourth and final Sunday of Advent. Time is running out. The good news is that we can stop looking. We can stop searching. We can stop yearning, and we can stop seeking. All we have to do is stand in our muddy wilderness and acknowledge our need of the Savior, confess that we are the ones who are lost, we are the ones who need to be accepted. And no matter our circumstance, nor the depth of our mud, the hope, the peace, the joy and the love of Christmas will surely find us.

Christmas will find us and change us, so, together, we can change the world.

Looking for Christmas in the Wilderness

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

Maundy Thursday

Luke 3:7-18 NRSV

United Methodist pastor and  preacher William Willimon once said that he often wonders why people come to church to hear a sermon. He said that he, like most preachers, believe you come here Sunday after Sunday to be comforted. You have had hard, busy weeks. You have been under a lot of stress lately. Your children are not doing as well as you would like. Business is slow. Times are tight. You are having a difficult time taking care of your aging parents. And you have your own health worries. Your marriage is not quite like it used to be. You are still dealing with grief over the loss of a loved one. And you are still struggling with forgiving that friend who let you down and loving a neighbor who betrayed you. So you get in your car every Sunday and drive to this place to sit in a pew to get a little comfort. You come to get stroked and soothed, pampered and pacified.

So I, along with hundreds of other moderate, educated, mainline preachers in pretty, downtown pulpits, seek to give you a dose of what we think you need and want each and every Sunday. We seek give you a little bit of psychology. We metaphorically pat you on the back from our pulpits on Sunday mornings assuring you that everything is going to be alright. We seek to give you a little bit of Jesus-loves-me-and-Jesus-loves-you-so-I’m O.K.-you’re O.K.-all-God’s-children-are-O.K. theology.  Worship, then, is a little feel-good-pick-me-up to help us recover from last week and to help us get through the upcoming week, some chicken soup for the soul.

Then, we encounter a text like this morning’s gospel lesson. And we read the account of a preacher who is a far cry a moderate, educated, mainline preacher in a pretty, downtown pulpit. His name is John the Baptist.  He’s a harsh man with a harsh voice crying out from the boondocks far from the lights of downtown.

No one ever called John the Baptist “moderate.” And no one ever called him “pretty.” And there was certainly nothing comforting about his message of hell, fire, brimstone and impending judgment.

John stood in the mud of the Jordan River and preached: “You bunch of poisonous snakes! There’s a bunch of dead stones in this muddy river. God is able to make a family out of these stones. There’s a heap of dry chaff, mixed all up in with the wheat. You know what God’s going to do? God’s going to start a fire to burn off the chaff.  I wash you with water; and if this water is too cold for you… there is one who’s coming right behind me who is going to scorch you with fire!”

“You better get washed. You better get clean! If you’ve treated someone unfairly, go make it right. If you have prejudice in your heart, get rid of it. This may be your last warning. Today is the day. Now is the hour, for the ax, the judge, and the fire are coming!”

Now I think: “Who in the world would want to travel out in the middle of nowhere to hear a sermon like that? Who wants to look at someone who looks like John and hear him say: “I’m not O.K.! You’re not O.K.! None of God’s children are O.K.!” Who wants to hear him say: “The unquenchable fire is coming, so you better get ready!? You better stop being so arrogant and pompous, so selfish and so greedy. Because guess what? Someone’s coming and hell’s coming with him!”

Who wants to listen to a sermon like that? As it turns out, lots of people. Luke says: “multitudes.” And genteel, educated preachers in pretty downtown pulpits everywhere ask: “why?”

It just so happens that people do not necessarily go to church to listen to a sermon to be comforted. People come to church to hear the truth.

Multitudes went to into the boonies because that redneck preacher who looked like he could handle a snake or two named John the Baptist was telling people the truth.

That is why I believe you come to this place Sunday after Sunday. In a world of so much deceit and falsehood, in a world where people will tell you anything you want to hear to make a dollar, in a world where the rich and powerful control the media, you want to hear someone who unashamedly will speak to you honestly and truthfully. You come here out of a deep yearning to hear a word of truth from God because you know deep in your heart that it is only that truth that will set you free.

That is why more people went out to hear John preach in the desert than have ever come here to hear me preach in my pretty downtown church. Multitudes tramped through the briars and dust and went to hear a fire-breathing preacher who stood, not in a beautifully crafted and decorated pulpit, but in the muddy Jordan River, and spoke of axes, judgment and fire. They went to hear the truth. Even though they knew that sometimes, most of the time, the truth hurts; the truth is not an easy thing to swallow. However, they somehow instinctively knew that it was the truth that was going to set them free.

If John was here today, I believe he would tell moderate, mainline, mainstream preachers safe behind our protective pulpits like me sell you short. And maybe he would be right.

For every now and again, even I, slip up and accidentally step on your toes, a lot harder than I ever intend to, implying: “You’re not right. You need a bath. Some part of you needs to be cut off, removed; something in of you needs to be burned away. The racism and sexism, the homophobia and xenophobia, all of the pride and bigotry and hate inside of you needs to be destroyed so we can fulfill the greatest commandment of God and love all of our neighbors, our white neighbors and our black neighbors, our straight neighbors and our LGBTQ neighbors, our Christian neighbors and our Muslim neighbors, our rich neighbors and our poor neighbors, our English-speaking neighbors and our foreign speaking neighbors.”

And do you know what happens when I do this? You are often lined up at the front door to say, “Thanks preacher, I really needed to hear that!” “You really got on top of my feet today! Thanks for being honest.”

You lined up to thank me because you know that before something can be born anew and fresh within you, something old and rotten has to die. You know that before a church can experience rebirth and new growth, the archaic and the stagnant need to pass away. And you know that before we can truly be the church, we have to get out of the comfort and the security of the sanctuary, and go to the places God is leading us, even the dark, dangerous and dreadful places.

That is why people came to hear John preach. Because if you really listen to him you will hear him make two points in his sermon: “God is coming!” and “You can change!”

From his prolific sermon illustrations, the fire, the ax, and chaff, we know that what John was preaching was the death of something old and the birth of something new. You can get clean. You can be purified. You can be transformed and be washed white as snow!

This is why the multitudes traveled out into the boonies to hear John preach! Because when John preached with brutal honesty, when John told the people what they needed to change, what they needed to prune, cut off and burn up, the wilderness began to look something like the Garden of Eden. The muddy Jordan became the River of Life. Out of the dry dust, a flower began to bloom.

To put me through seminary, Lori worked as a social worker at a transitional apartment building for homeless families on the west side of Louisville Kentucky. Louisville’s west side was the oldest part and the ugliest part of the city. Century old houses which were once the homes of Louisville’s middle to upper class were now run down. Many condemned. Windows boarded up. Others were crack houses. Old, one-time majestic apartment buildings were now considered slums. Litter covered the sidewalks and filled the alleyways. It was the ghetto.

One Saturday I took the youth group from our church to do some cleaning and painting in the apartment building where Lori worked. As soon as we arrived, it began to snow. About six inches fell while we worked inside. When we walked outside to get into the van to drive back to the church, we marveled at the transformation. A gentle white blanket covered the ghetto and completely transformed it into some place wonderful!

Your sins, the psalmist promised, shall be whiter than snow! This was the message of John the Baptist. People flocked to hear John, and I believe come to worship every Sunday so they can hear the truth: that none of us are who we ought to be.

We come here to ask God to hold up a mirror in front of us so we can see clearly all of our shortcomings. We ask him to search us and know our hearts; test us and know our thoughts, see if there is any wicked way in us, and lead us the way everlasting. And chastened, we come to drop to our knees and ask God to take an ax and cut us down, or kindle a fire and purge us, so we can be reborn, so we can be cleansed and changed, so we can then change the world. John the Baptist promises the possibility of such a transformation.

Get ready. God is coming. This was John’s message. Let us hear this message today. Because there is not anyone here who is beyond the reach of a gracious God who comes to us, so that we might come to him.

John the Baptist preached that. And he is still preaching that. You can’t get to Christmas without first meeting him in the wilderness. Multitudes have. By God’s grace, so will we.[i]

[i] Inspired and adapted from a sermon entitled Here Comes the Judge by William Willimon.

Lost Without Christmas

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

nl-Griswold-HouseLuke 3:1-6 NRSV

The pet peeve of nearly every pastor this time of year is driving around town seeing the number of houses which are decked out very ostentatiously with Christmas lights and decorations while knowing that the people living in those houses will not step foot in a worship service during the entire Advent and Christmas season. They have the biggest Christmas tree in their living room, the most lights on the trees in their yard, the prettiest wreaths on their doors, the brightest candles burning in each window, appearing from every indication to be anticipating the coming of Christmas, the coming of the Messiah, Savior and King; yet, for some strange reason, they do not feel the need to gather together on the Lord’s Day to worship and acknowledge their need for Christ. They have no desire to be here this morning to a light another candle in anticipation of advent of Christ.

I wonder what they are celebrating? What has brought their lives so much fulfillment and happiness and peace that they have the energy and desire to go all out decking their homes with lights and evergreens and candles but have no desire to gather for worship? What is so wonderful about their lives which makes them feel as if they simply do not need Christ in their Christmas?

What are they celebrating?  Getting off a few days of work to spend with their lovely families?  Presents? Santa Claus?  Christmas parties and dinners?  Their home?  Are their decorations merely saying, “Look at me!” “Look at my beautiful yard and my beautiful house? Look what I have built!  Look what I have bought!”

During a conversation with a friend of mine from seminary who was serving as a missionary on the outskirts of the Republic of Congo, I said:

Brad, I don’t know how you do it. How you can leave all that our wonderful country affords us to share the gospel of Jesus Christ in a depressed third-world country!

To my surprise, he responded:

To tell you the truth Jarrett, I don’t know how you do it!  How on earth do you share the gospel of Jesus Christ in the affluent United States?  How do you convince people who have everything that they need a savior!  People are so spoiled in the U. S.  They have so much which they believe brings them happiness and fulfillment and peace. They don’t believe they need Christ. People where I minister have nothing. They are starving for the gospel!  They need the gospel!

We do have much, don’t we? The very best technology: computers, smart phones, smart watches, and smart TVs with digital signals carrying more information than our brains can possibly  comprehend beamed from satellites that were employed by space shuttles!

Yes, perhaps all of us living in the affluent West are tempted to look for our peace and fulfillment in the vast accomplishments of humanity. We marvel at science and technology and say, “Look at us, look at what we can do, look how smart we are!”

Because our capitalistic economic system is based on the what humans can accomplish if they are given the freedom to work for themselves, all of us have more clothes than we could ever wear, more food than we could consume, and bigger houses than we really need.

And with our freedom, we have so many choices. We can do so many different things. We can go to so many wonderful places. With our freedom there are no limits to what we can be and we what we can do and where we can go!

We are free to make as much money as we possible can, to marry who we choose, to have as many children as we want, and to live in the neighborhood and home of our choice.

Perhaps that is what so many are celebrating with their lights and evergreens and candles. They are celebrating freedom. They are celebrating the American way of life. They are celebrating their material possessions. They are celebrating technology and the accomplishments of humankind. They are celebrating Santa Claus and his great big bag of goodies made by the hands of mortals. They are celebrating family, the gift of human love and children.

So, maybe my missionary friend is right. In America, we are free to have so much which brings so much happiness and fulfillment and peace that there is really no need for a Savior.

Yet, deep inside, we know, that even within our wealthy country, within our most affluent communities, there is indeed much unhappiness and unfulfillment.

If wealth and freedom and smart human accomplishments are all they’re cracked up to be, why does the United States have highest rate of suicide per capita than any other nation on the planet? If our children have so much more, more opportunity, more toys than the other children of the world why is the suicide rate for children 14 and younger double that of other nations?

I believe that one problem we have with our country is that it takes a great degree of honesty to admit our unhappiness and unfulfillment. After all, with our great freedom of choice, we are free to fashion our lives as we choose. If the lives that we fashion are unfulfilling, guess whose fault it is? We have nobody to blame but ourselves; therefore, we are reluctant to admit to any sense of unfilfillment and unhappiness. Our pride and our ego prevent us from admitting that we ever reflect on our lives and ask ourselves the question: “Is there anything more than this?” We can’t admit that we are in need, that we yearn for something more.

So we cover it up with lights and evergreens and candles. We say to the world: “Look at me, I am happy, I am fulfilled. I don’t need church. I don’t need worship. I don’t need community. My choices and my consumerism are enough. My house, my clothes, my toys, my freedom, my family, my intellectual prowess is all I really need. It is enough.”

And yet, deep inside, we know that it is not enough. Deep inside we all know that there has to be more, but because of our freedom, our pride and arrogance, we are afraid to admit it.

Advent is a season of looking for something. It is a season of hoping and believing that “there has to be more.” It is a season of yearning.  Have you noticed the hymns we sing during Advent? Not the Christmas carols, but the advent hymns like the one we are going to sing in a few moments. The hymns we sing this time of the year are somewhat restrained. They speak of desire, of waiting, of expectation. The Advent prophets speak to a people suffering from homelessness and despair. It is no coincidence that John the Baptist’s voice is that of one “crying out in the wilderness.”

John the Baptist is crying out in the wilderness, because that is where the good news of the gospel is needed. In order to hear the message of Christmas, we must first realize that we are living in a wilderness. We must be able to be honest and say: “The choices I have made on my own have not brought me fulfillment. My freedom, my material wealth, my high tech gadgets, my diplomas, a nice home, a nice car, a vacation in Hawaii, New York, Paris or Southern California, even a wife, two kids and a dog are not enough. I need something more!”

With our freedom, it takes courage and it takes conviction to admit to yearning, to admit to our need to look for something else.

In order to see the fragile light of Christmas, we must first realize that we are in the dark. Even in an information age, we must confess that humankind does not have all of the answers. Advances in technologies, and the freedom to make choices and to make money cannot protect us from our dark world of evil.

As much as we try to decorate it with lights and evergreens and candles: gadgets break; space shuttles crash; family members get sick; relationships fail; loved ones die. Human beings, with all of their potential to accomplish good, are at their core, depraved.

A beautiful December 7th Sunday morning in Hawaii and a crisp September 11th Tuesday morning in New York City can be suddenly transformed into a burning hell without notice. An evening on the town in Paris, even a joyous Christmas party with friends and co-workers can become scenes of unimaginable tragedy.

One of the greatest things about coming to this place during this time of the year is that here, before God, in the midst of a dark world of falsehood and deceit we can be honest. We can come here, if just once a week, and tell the truth.

We can be honest and admit that nothing Santa could ever bring us, nothing made by mortal hands, will bring us fulfillment and peace. Nothing we can accomplish with our freedom and our intelligence can bring us joy.

So, maybe that is the real reason people will not step foot in a church this Advent and Christmas season. Because, what they see here is often really no different than what they see out there. They see, in the church, people who believe they have it all figured out; they have all the answers; they have everything they need for peace and fulfillment; they no longer have to keep yearning for Christmas; they no longer live in the desert. They see people who are unwilling to be honest.

So, here, in this place, let’s get back to what our faith is all about: honesty, authenticity. Let us be honest and admit that we do not have what it takes to experience true peace.

So, hear the good news on this second Sunday of Advent. To those of us who are honest enough to admit that we live in exile, in the wilderness, lost, wandering, hear the good news that God is making a way.

Listen to John the Baptist: “Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth.”

God is making a way through our desert, a highway straight to us.

Let’s be honest. Let’s realize that we need more, and let’s keep looking, keep yearning, keep working, keep serving, keep loving, and keep inviting others who do not have a church this season to join us, until we shall see the “salvation of God.”

Until we shall see Christmas and truly know peace, now and forevermore.

Reigning from the Cross

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

world_in_handsLuke 23:33-43 NRSV

Today is the last Sunday of the Christian Year.  It is called “Christ the King Sunday” or “The Reign of Christ Sunday.”  It signifies that at the end of it all, Jesus Christ has the last and final word.  And in this world of so much suffering and pain, oh how we need a day like today!  Oh how we need to be reminded that when it all boils down, when it all pans out, Jesus Christ is our ruler and our king. When it is all said and done, Jesus the Christ is ultimately in charge. Today is the day that we reassure ourselves that no matter how bad life gets, no matter how distressed, fragmented and chaotic life becomes, Christ is always in complete control.  “He’s got the whole world in his hands,” as we all like to sing.

Now, in this world of heart ache and heart break, the truth that Christ is the king and ruler of it all is always supposed to bring us great assurance and peace.  However; although none of us good God-fearing, church-going folks like to admit it, this truth of God’s complete reign over this world usually brings us the exact opposite.

Think about those times you were reminded by someone, albeit with good intentions, that “God is in control.”  When Lori and I lost our first child two months before the due date, people came up to us and said, “Don’t let this get you down.  Just remember that God doesn’t make any mistakes.”

After the doctor gave you the news that the tumor was malignant, people came up to you and said, “Don’t worry, God knows what God is doing.”

When people learned that you were going to lose your job, they reminded you, “It is going to be alright, for God is in control.”

At the graveside of a loved one, your friends and family lined up between you and the casket and whispered: “God has a reason for this.”

And very politely, we nodded. We even thanked them for their words with a hug or a handshake.  But then, a short time later, after we dried our tears, after we came to our senses, while we were sitting quietly at home or while we were out on a long drive, or maybe sitting in church, we began to reflect and to ponder those well-intended words. We began to think to ourselves: “If God is really sitting on some providential throne in complete control of this fragmented fiasco called life, this disastrous debacle called the world, then what type of ruler is this God? What type of king sits back and allows so much evil to occur in their kingdom?

Christ the King—what is supposed to bring us great strength, peace and comfort, instead brings us frustration, anger and doubt.  Christ the King—what is supposed to bring us assurance and hope brings us utter misery and despair.  And we are very much tempted to join all those who laughed and ridiculed Jesus: “Umphh!  King of the Jews! Some King!”

I have said it before, and I do not mind saying it again—If  God is the one who willed our first baby’s death, causes tumors to be malignant, gets us fired from our jobs, and takes our loved ones from us, then I really do not believe I want anything to do with a god like that!  I think I would rather join the millions of people who have chosen not to be in church on this Sunday before Thanksgiving.

The good news is that I am here. And I am here to thank God that God is not the type of King who decrees the death of babies, pronounces malignancies, commands layoffs and orders our loved ones to be suddenly taken from us. There is no doubt about it, Christ is King.  But thank God, Christ does not reign the way the kings of this world reign.

The reason I believe we allow ourselves to be tempted to give up on God in the face of evil is because we often forget that our God reigns not from some heavenly throne in some blissful castle in the sky. Our God reigns from an old rugged cross, on a hill outside of Jerusalem, between sinners like you and me. I believe we oftentimes become despairing and cynical about God, because we forget that our God does not rule like the rulers of this world.

The rulers of this world rule with violence and coercion and force.  Earthly rulers rule with an iron fist: militarily and legislatively and with executive orders. The kings of the world rule with raw power: controlling, dominating, taking, and imposing.

But Christ is a King who rules through suffering, self-giving, self-expending, sacrificial love.  Christ the King rules, not from a distance at the capital city, not from the halls of power and prestige, but in little, insignificant, out-of-the-way places like Bethlehem and Nazareth, and Fountain and Farmville.

Christ the King doesn’t rule with an iron fist, but rules instead with outstretched arms. Christ the King doesn’t cause human suffering from a far, but is right here beside us sharing in our suffering.

God possess what the late theologian Arthur McGill called a “peculiar” kind of power.

God’s power is not a power that takes, but is a power that gives.

God’s power is not a power that rules, but is a power that serves.

God’s power is not a power that imposes, but is a power that loves.

God’s power is not a power that dominates, but a power that dies.

And as Arthur McGill has written, this is the reason that it is “no accident that Jesus undertakes his mission to the poor and to the weak and not to the strong, to the dying and not to those full of life.  For with these vessels of need God most decisively vindicates his peculiar kind of power, [a] power of service whereby the poor are fed, the sinful are forgiven, the weak are strengthened, and the dying are made alive.”[i]

Christ the King did not take our first child.  The day our baby died, God cried with us in that hospital room.

God did not cause the tumor. The day the doctor said the word “cancer” was a day of anguish for God as it was for us.

God did not create the layoff.  The day you were told that your job was ending, God stayed up with you and worried with you all night long.

And God did not take your loved one.  When they died, something inside of God died too.

What we all need to learn are very different definitions of “king,” “rule,” “reign” and “power”—very different because they define the ways of the only true and living God rather than defining our false gods and their ways.

So when life gets us down (and if we live any length of time at all in this world, it most certainly will), we need to remember the great truth of this day—Christ is the King. And this King is reigning, suffering, sacrificing and giving all that God has to give from the cross.

crown of thornsGod does not make mistakes.  God knows what God is doing.  God is in control.  But God’s throne is not made of silver and gold. God’s throne is made of wood and nails. God wears not a crown of jewels but a crown of thorns.

This past week I visited a lovely lady in the hospital who is dying with cancer. Doctors have given her about three months to live. With great faith and assurance and peace, she told me that everything was going to be all right. No, she is not delusional. Her mind is not clouded with morphine. She is at peace because her King reigns from a cross. Her King is not far away from her sitting a throne removed from her agony. Her King is at her side suffering with her. Her King is not above her pain.  Her King is experiencing her every pain. Her King is not slowly taking her life away from her. Her King is giving the King’s very life to her, pouring out the King’s very self into her, and promises her every minute of every day to see her through.

Because of this, she told me that she has never known a time in her life when she more close to her Lord. All of her despair has been transformed into hope. And she is absolutely convinced that her death will be transformed into life everlasting.

After she described the intensified intimacy she now shares with her Lord, she then said something miraculous. With a hopeful joy in her smile and eternity in her eyes, she told me that she is really looking forward to celebrating Thanksgiving this year.  Think about that for a moment.

A woman, dying with cancer, told me that she has a lot for which to be thankful.

Don’t we all?

[i] Arthur McGill, Suffering: A Test of Theological Method, 61-63.

Heaven Can Wait

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

END IS NEARLuke 21:5-19 NRSV

One of the great things about living in southern Louisiana were the countless stories about two infamous Cajuns named Boudreaux and Thibodeaux.

Reverend Boudreaux was the part-time pastor of a small, rural Baptist church and Pastor Thibodeaux was the minister of a Pentecostal church directly across the road. One day, they were both standing out by the road in front of their churches, each pounding a sign into the ground as fast as they could. The sign read:

Da End is Near
Turn Yo Sef ‘Roun Now
Afore It Be Too Late!

As soon as the signs got into the ground, a car passed by.  Without slowing down, the driver leaned out his window and yelled as loud as he could: “You bunch of religious nuts!”

Then, from the curve in the road you could hear tires screeching and a big splash.

The Reverend Boudreaux yells at Pastor Thibodeaux across the road and asks:

“Do ya tink maybe da sign should jus say ‘Bridge Out’?”

The last couple of Sundays the Christian calendar and the lectionary has led us to ponder the tough subjects of death, the resurrection of the dead and eternal life. And today’s gospel lectionary is on a similar topic: the end of the world.

Now, I have to be honest here, after the last two Sundays, I am really ready to focus on something else!  Besides, all this apocalyptic gloom and doom talk is really not for us mainstream, progressive, educated church types here on Main Street.

But this is just how the Church calendar works I guess. We are approaching the end of the calendar as next Sunday concludes the church year with Christ the King Sunday, emphasizing that when it is all said and done, in the end, Jesus Christ is King of Kings and Lord of Lords. So, I guess it makes sense that here, on this next to last Sunday of the church year, even we downtown Main Street church folks are asked to listen to sermon about the final judgment.

And, although we don’t like it, maybe we need to hear it. After all, in the last couple of years, chatter about the end of days seems to have spiked a bit with all of the Mayan doomsday predictions, super storms like last year’s Sandy and last week’s killer typhoon in the Philippians, numerous earthquakes and tsunamis, the global recession, nuclear tensions with North Korea and Iran, the constant threat of terrorism, and with the attention given by cable TV to doomsday preppers.

In September of this year, a poll by the Barna group found 4 in 10 Americans – and 77 percent of evangelical Christians – believe the “world is now living in the biblical end times.”[i]

So, in spite of what you may think about this subject, perhaps we need to hear what Jesus has to say.

About the destruction of it all, in verse 7, we read where they ask Jesus: “When will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?”

In verse 8 we read Jesus’ answer: “Beware that you are not led astray.”

Then Jesus specifically warns us to stay away from those who claim to be Christian and say, “The time is near.” Jesus says, “Do not go after them.” Do not follow them. Do not listen to them. Don’t pay them any attention!

Well, glory halleluiah!  Because after two Sundays preaching on death and the resurrection of the dead, I really don’t want to talk about the end of days! So, Amen Jesus! Preach it! Let’s move on to some more pleasant things! Enough of all this gloom and doom!

Ok, now let’s listen to what Jesus has to say next! Hopefully it is something more uplifting than death!

“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you.”  “You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; you will be hated by all because of my name; and they will put some of you to death.” “But “this will give you an opportunity to testify.”

Man! And we thought we were off the hook this week!

But if we have been reading and listening to Luke, we should not be that surprised. It is as if Jesus is saying, “Do not worry so much about the tribulations to come with the end of the world, because if you are truly following me, if you are faithfully living as my disciple, if you have fully committed yourself to carrying a cross, if you are really speaking truth to power, if you are serving those I call you to serve, if you are standing up for my justice and my wholeness in this fragmented world, then you have will enough trouble for today!

If you are truly living for me and loving this broken and suffering world as much as I love this world, you will sacrifice much. You may even lose your friends and family! Matthew remembers Jesus saying on another occasion: ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today (Matthew 6:34).

Jesus seems to be saying here: “Don’t focus so much on the end days, don’t’ dwell on the impending doom and demise of it all but instead, focus on the opportunities that you have today in this hurting world ‘to testify,’ to selflessly and sacrificially serve me by serving and suffering for others.”

Jesus is saying: “It is perfectly is to think and dream about going to Heaven one day. It is fine to have the hope that someday, somehow, some way there’s not going to be anything more to fear or dread. It is wonderful to know a time is coming when there is going to be no more crying, no more pain, and no more death. It is great to sing those old hymns of faith, such as “When We All Get to Heaven,”  “Shall We Gather at the River,” and “I Can Only Imagine,” but if Heaven is the only place your hearts are, if going to Heaven and avoiding Hell is the only reason you are Christians, then you have missed the whole point of who I am and who you are called to be as my disciples.”

I believe Jesus is saying to us: “So don’t come to church looking to avoid a suffering world! Come to church and bear the sufferings of this world! Don’t come to church looking for some fire insurance. Come to church and let me lead you into the fire!”

This is exactly why I believe so many Christians are tempted “go after” those who love to preach about the end of days, especially those who say that it is coming in our lifetimes. For it is far easier to believe that God has already given up on this world. It is much easier to look at the destruction in the Philippines and believe that it is all a part of God’s plan, a preview of things to come! It is far easier to believe that earthquakes and hurricanes and tornadoes and poverty and wars are all part of God’s apocalyptic will than it is to believe that God calls us to selflessly and sacrificially suffer alongside those who are suffering.

It would be far easier to believe that Christianity is only about getting a ticket to heaven to escape this world than it is to believe that it is about selfless, sacrificial service.

British scholar Lesslie Newbigin comments: “In an age of impending ecological crises,” with the “threat of nuclear war and a biological holocaust” many Christians have retreated into a “privatized eschatology.”  That means, that the only hope that they possess, in the words of Newbigin, is “their vision of personal blessedness for the soul after death.”[i]

Christians everywhere, in the words of Newbigin, have “sounded the trumpet of retreat.” They have thrown their hands in the air and have given up on the world. Their faith in Jesus has become solely and merely a private matter. Faith is only something they possess, something they hold on to, that they can someday use as their ticket out here. In the meantime, they withdraw into safe sanctuaries and look forward to that day “the roll is called up yonder.”  And they listen to angry sermons by angry preachers condemning the world to Hell in a hand basket.

And giving up on the world is really nothing new.  At the turn of the first century, Jews called Gnostics had a similar view of the world.  Everything worldly, even the human body itself, was regarded as evil.  And maybe, they too, had some pretty good reasons to believe that way, because regardless of what some may believe, the world did not start going bad in our lifetimes. The truth is: it has been bad ever since that serpent showed up in the garden.

At the turn of the first century, Jews were a conquered, depressed people, occupied the Romans.  And they were terrorized daily by a ruthless, pro-Roman King named Herod—a king who would murder innocent children to have his way.  The Gnostics looked at the world and their situation and came to the conclusion that they were divine souls trapped in evil bodies living in a very dark, God-forsaken, God-despised world.

As I have mentioned, Next Sunday marks the end of the Christian calendar. The next Sunday begins the season of Advent, the very beginning of the church.

It is the season that we remember that it was into a very dark, and seemingly God-forsaken, God-despised world that something mysterious happened that we call Christmas. A light shone in that darkness proving in the most incredible and inexplicable way that this world is anything but God-forsaken or God-despised!

God loves this world so much that God emptied God’s self and poured God’s self into the world. God came and affirmed, even our fleshly existence as God, God’s self, became flesh. And God came into the world not to condemn the world, but to save the world. For so God loved the world that God came into the world and died for the world.

Thus, the message that we all need to hear today and hear often is not that the end is near as God believes the world is worth destroying, but it is that God believes this world is worth saving. God believes the world is still worth fighting for. God still believes that this world is worth dying for.

As the body of Christ in this world, we as the church are not called to retreat or withdraw from the world and its troubles, but are called to love this world, to do battle for this world, to even die for this world.  We are called to be a selfless community of faith in this broken world. And, no matter the cost, we are called to share this good news of Christmas all year long!

[i] Read more at http://www.wnd.com/2013/10/billy-graham-sounds-alarm-for-2nd-coming/#Y8RpIeMpqqHd8uRF.99

[ii] Leslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralistic Society, 113.

We Cannot Imagine

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

HeavenLuke 20:27-38 NRSV

One day in the sweet by and by, when we all get to heaven, in the resurrection of the dead, Jesus says we will “neither marry nor be given in marriage.” And today, some of us on this earth who are married, or have been married, sing or shout with a loud voice: “What a day of rejoicing that will be!”

Yes, for some of us with bad marriages, or have Exes that we don’t even want to talk about, this is some very good news! However, for those of us who love our spouses, and cannot imagine life without them, this news is rather disconcerting.

I am thinking specifically about those couples where you never see one without the other. I am thinking about those who have lived together so long that they not only begin to act alike and talk alike, but they actually begin to look alike. Couples who have been married 50, 60 or even 70 years. And when one passes away, the other usually follows very soon after—sometimes just months later; sometimes just days. And none of us are surprised! Not only could they not imagine life without one another, neither could we.

But there lies our real problem! We simply cannot imagine any life beyond this life. A few years ago, the group called Mercy Me, sang a very popular song about heaven entitled I Can Only Imagine. However, the truth is, that when it comes to the resurrection, when it comes to eternity, there is no way we can imagine. Even that popular song that says that we can has more questions in it than answers.

One of the reasons that we cannot imagine it is that eternal life is not something that happens because there is something intrinsic in our nature that makes it happen. It happens only because there something intrinsic in God’s nature that makes it happen. We cannot imagine it, because it is not of us. It is of God.

Some of the Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection, but many in the religious community did believe in the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. There was widespread belief that there is something within every human being that is eternal. When we die, our soul simply leaves our body and continues living in another realm. Heaven then is understood as a continuance of our present existence. So if we marry in this life, and our first spouse dies and we remarry, it makes sense to question who our spouse will be when we get to heaven. And if we remarry and our second spouse dies, and we remarry again, and that spouse also dies, and then we marry again, well, we’re going to have a real problem in the hereafter! You think you have problems now?

However, Jesus never talked about the immortality of the soul. Jesus talked about mortality and death and about the resurrection of the dead. As I said last week, when we face our deaths, because it is not God’s will for anyone to perish, it is in the very nature of God to resurrect and transform our deaths into a brand new life. It is just what God does.  It is who God is.

Therefore, in Revelation 21 we these hopeful words:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them;he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’

And with our finite, mortal minds, we cannot imagine it.

The biblical revelation is clear:  Newness, a brand new beginning, a fresh start, a new life can come, but it comes only as a gift from the God of life, the God of the living, the creator of all that is. It cannot and does not come from those who cannot even begin to imagine it.

A very literal translation of the first line of Genesis is “In the beginning God began creating…”  William Willimon puts it this way: “Creation is not something that God did once and for all, but rather something that God continues to do in this world. God keeps making all things new. Day in and day out, God is actively involved with creation, intervening, interfering, renewing and doing battle the primordial chaos that threatens to undo creation. Creation continues as God keeps making something out of nothing.”[i]  This is just who our God is.

The key for us as people of faith in this ever-creating God is to come to understand that much of the pain and brokenness that we experience in this life is not the end, but only the beginning—the beginning of something wonderful that we cannot even imagine it.

We say we cannot imagine spending eternity without our spouses, without our children, without our friends. No we can’t. No more than a small child can imagine some of the pleasures of adulthood.[ii]

Try to explain to a child the immense joy that you receive sitting in front of your fireplace on cold mornings sipping a hot cup of coffee, listening only to sounds of sound of a soft blaze.  Try to explain to a youngster that has boundless energy the sheer gratification you experience rocking in a chair on your front porch at dusk, watching fireflies dance in your backyard.

“But mama, but grandma, but Nana, let’s go out there and try to catch some of them, put them in a jar.”

Think about the look you receive when you say, “No, honey, let’s just sit right here on this porch and quietly rock, breathe in the fresh air and just watch.”

No, just as a child cannot imagine what is pure heaven for adults, neither can we imagine the heaven God has prepared for us. The Apostle Paul put it this way,

But when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known (1 Cor 13).

But right now, we cannot imagine.  We can only trust that the God whose nature is to create and recreate and restore and resurrect will be faithful to God’s very nature.

And although I do not believe there is any way that we can fully imagine eternity, I do believe that we are privy here in our finiteness to glimpses of it. And I am not just talking about fireflies, coffee and fireplaces.

As a pastor, I have seen these glimpses, and though those glimpses might be like looking through a mirror, dimly, I have seen these glimpses often.  Someone loses a job.  They are overcome by depression and despair.  They think their world is coming to an end. They believe that life for them is over.  And I, as a pastor, try to minister to them the best way that I can.  I tell them that God will help them make something out of this mess.  God will make something good come from it.  They will be able to move on.  Things will get better.  And they, of course, cannot even imagine.

Then I check back with them in a few months, after they have landed a new job. And I hear them say things like: “Getting fired from that old job was the best thing that ever happened to me. I absolutely love my new job, and I have never been more happy!”

Someone else comes to me saying that their marriage was suddenly ending. They are completely devastated. They tell me that they feel like their life is over. Their marriage was the most important thing in the world to them, and now it was ending. They have no more reason to get up in the morning, no more reason to try to do a decent day’s work. They’re in utter despair.  Again, I try to reassure them. God will somehow, someway, work it out, help you get through this difficult time. God will work and wring whatever good can be wrung out of this horrible situation!”

“Preacher,” they say, “I cannot imagine.”

And then, a couple of years later, they fall in love again and remarry.  And I hear them say something like, “What I thought was the end of my life was only the beginning. And though I may never be able to go back to the good old days, I realize now that I have plenty of good new days ahead!”

Another comes to me and shares their doctor’s grim diagnosis. They use words like “terminal,” “inoperable,” and “untreatable.”  They say that life is over. Death is the only thing in their future. However, a short time later, as I visit them in the Hospice House, they let me know in a miraculous way that being fully alive and fully whole have absolutely nothing to do with physical well-being.

Who would have imagined?

A child dies. Then God steps in and miraculously begins working and creating and recreating and resurrecting. And untold dollars are raised in that child’s memory to fight a dreadful disease. And countless other children are saved.

Who could have imagined?

And the good news is that one day, when we face our final hours, with faith in the God of the living, the God of resurrection and restoration, that there is nothing final at all about them!

[i] Willimon, William. A quote found in some of my old sermon notes. Source uncertain.

[ii] Culpepper, Alan. Luke. The New Interpreters Bible, Volume 9 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), 390.

Why Worship Seems Like a Waste of Time

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

Luke 18:9-14 NRSV

Why does the worship of God always seem to end up on the bottom of our list of priorities?  If there is almost anything else going on, any other place to go, any other activity to do, it takes precedence over our worship.  Fishing trip?—Oh, I can miss church for that.  A round of golf this Sunday?—No problem, I can easily skip church this week.  Run a marathon—I’m there. Missing worship?  No problem. But you’re the preacher! Don’t worry, I can work it out!

You know it and I know it, we’ll skip church to do just about anything else.  The sad truth is that sometimes we’ll even skip church so we can stay home and do absolutely nothing.  Out too late on Saturday night?—Not a problem, I can just sleep in on Sunday morning.

And when it comes to missing worship, just about any excuse will do. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. It’s too windy. It’s too rainy. It’s too bad outside and my bed is calling my name! It’s too nice outside and the beach is calling my name! It’s too cloudy. It’s too sunny. I’m too tired. I’ve just got too much energy and want to do something that is fun!

And we all know the reason why.  We don’t like to admit it, but we all know why.  Too often than not, worship just seems like a waste of time.  We get up and drag ourselves out of the bed, iron our shirt or blouse, get dressed, go through you-know-what to get the kids ready, drive to this place, climb up the steps, sit down, sing, pray, take communion, and listen to a preacher drone on and on—and for what?  What do we get out of it?  What’s it all for?

Twelve o’clock rolls around and nothing about us has really changed.  We really don’t feel any better. We don’t have a new desire to do any better, and we really don’t want to even be any better. We get in our car and drive home thinking about all of the other things we could have been doing instead of wasting our time sitting in church.

Why is this?  Why does the worship of God often seem like such a colossal waste of our time?  Why do we very seldom get anything out of it?

Maybe it’s the choir’s fault.  Someone sang off key.  That song sure wasn’t very uplifting.  It sounded more like a funeral dirge than an anthem.  Why can’t that choir ever sing anything that makes me want to tap my toes, clap my hands?

Maybe it was the organist’s fault.  She just wasn’t on today.  She played that thing today like she stayed out too late last night.  And that offertory, well it just didn’t do a thing for me!

But more than likely it was the preacher’s fault.  You call that a sermon!  I’d rather hear John Moore preach anytime. You’d think that with all of his experience and education, he could do better than that!  I just didn’t get a thing out of that message!

Well, I wished it was as easy as all that.

Perhaps you have heard the story about the man who left the worship service complaining.  He shook the preacher’s hand at the front door and grumbled: “That last song didn’t do a thing in the world for me!”  To which the preacher responded: “Who cares?!?  Because that song was not for you! It was for God.”

We must learn to get it through the self-centered, self-absorbed, big heads that worship is not God’s gift to us. Worship is our gift to God.  Worship is about giving; not receiving.  We do not come here on Sunday morning to get something out of it, but to give something through it, namely ourselves.  We come to offer God our hearts, minds, soul and strength.

However, that is not to say that God does not reciprocate. Through our worship of God, I believe there is something from God that we should receive. None of us should leave this place on Sunday morning empty.  Having come to give ourselves to God, I do believe we should leave full, blessed, forgiven, and according to our scripture lesson this morning— we should leave this place feeling “justified.”

But sometimes, that is just not the case is it?  Sometimes we do leave this place empty. Why?  Whose fault is it? This morning’s lesson is about two men who went to church to worship. Jesus says that only one of the men went back home “justified,” that is, made right with God, forgiven.  For the other, worship was a waste of time.  Why?

Let’s look at this story closer.

publican_and_phariseeBecause we have been listening to Jesus’ parables for eight weeks now, from the very outset we know Jesus is setting us up for one of his surprises. The Pharisee was a good person. He prayed a fine prayer. The works that he mentions in his prayer are excellent deeds. They are deeds that go far beyond the basic demands of Jewish law. Furthermore, this Pharisee thanks God for his good life, recognizing that even his virtues have come to him as gifts of God.

The publican is a bad person. He’s not exaggerating when he says that he’s a “sinner.”  His life’s work was fleecing the poor on the behalf of the Roman occupation government.  And because of it, he is hated by his fellow Jews.

The two men go to church. One—a good, bible-believing, church-going person with good and honest moral values.  The other—a despised collaborator with the oppressive Romans—a sinner and he knew it.  Guess which one goes home justified and which one merely wasted his time?

Jesus said that it is this despised Publican who went home from church that day full, blessed, forgiven and justified. Why?

We need to remember that every parable that Jesus ever told has one important thing in common. The purpose of the parable is to teach us something about God and God’s kingdom—how God acts, and what God desires.  Like worship, parables are not about us. Parables don’t tell us what we ought to do. Parables tell us what God, in Jesus Christ does.

So, this particular parable teaches us that there is simply something inalienable about our God that loves to forgive sinners. Our God always surprises us by embracing those, who, because of their sin, seem to be outside the boundaries of God’s love. Our God always surprises us by accepting and loving those people that the world, especially the religious people in the world, despises.

Do you want to get something out of worship?  Then we must understand that every aspect of what we do in this service on Sunday morning is an acknowledgement that we are all, every one of us, fallen, broken, sinful human beings in desperate need of God’s grace. Not one of us here is any better than any other.

We sing hymns to God.  Why?  Because singing is all we can do.  The gift of God’s grace—the gift of life, the gift of salvation, the gift of eternity can not be earned and can never be deserved.  We sing because we have been given gifts that we cannot repay.

We pray.  Why?  Because this gift of God’s grace draws us close to the Giver. We crave intimacy and communion with God. For without God, we would not be.

We celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Why? Because we remember that God, through Jesus, did for did for us what we cannot do for ourselves. We, through our deeds could not come close to God, so God through Christ came close to us. We break the bread and share the cup in remembrance that for love of us, God gave us the very best gift that God had to give—the gift of God’s very self.

We give monetary gifts.  Why?  Because we know that this is the best way to acknowledge that all that we have and all that we are and all that we will ever have and will ever be is a gift of God’s grace.

We listen to God’s Word.  Why?  Because we know that our sinful souls need to hear it and embrace it. We have fallen short of being the people that God has created us to be. We make bad choices. And we even mess up our good choices. We are lost in need desperate need of direction, and we are sinners in desperate need of forgiveness.  We need to hear God say: “I am with you and will always be with you. I am for you and will always be for you. I love you and will always love you.”

Two men went to the same church: same choir, same organist, same old tired preacher. One did everything right in life. He always did right by his friends, his community, his family. He could do no wrong. He prayed the most eloquent of prayers, and it was quite obvious to all that he was better than most—But when twelve o’clock rolled around, he wondered where in the world the preacher found his sermon. He wondered why the organist was so tired and why choir was so off key. He went home feeling as if he had wasted his entire Sunday morning.

The other man had made a mess of his life—at work, at home and with his friends, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried he was going to continue to make mistakes. He was a sinner and he knew it. He was better than no one. But when twelve o’clock came, he said to himself, “Well, I believe that right there was the best sermon I ever heard. The offertory today rocked.  And the choir, well the choir, never sounded so good.”

Welcome Home! (Too Bad You Can’t Stay)

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

Luke 17:11-19 NRSV

On this exciting Homecoming Sunday morning, it is an honor and it gives me great joy to say to you: “Welcome home!”

We have been expecting you. In fact, we have been eagerly anticipating your arrival for weeks as we have pulled out all the stops!  You will notice we’ve moved benches to the breezeway to make the grand, cordial statement: “Welcome! Sit down, make yourselves comfortable, and stay awhile!”

The brick pavers have been pressure washed, which is our way of rolling out the red carpet! Fresh pine straw has been spread, the bushes have been trimmed, mums have been planted, and the doors have been painted. The planter out front looks like autumn. The sign outside is so clean, you could eat off it!  And speaking of eating, a pig is ready to be picked, the beef is tender, the chickens are fried, the casseroles are plentiful and the tea is sweet! Countless deserts are ready to be sampled! All of this to say to you this day, “Welcome home! Here you will find a most hospitable grace and an extravagant, unconditional love.”

But now that you are here, now that you are seated comfortably with your friends and neighbors, I need to give you a word of warning, and with all of the extravagant hospitality that is going on here this morning, this cautionary word may sound a bit strange, if not inhospitable. Here it goes: “Welcome Home! Too bad you can’t stay.”

LoiteringSit down and make yourself comfortable, but don’t get too comfortable.  Appreciate the budding flowers and the fresh pine straw, but don’t fall in love with it. Enjoy the sumptuous feast. Eat and drink until you are satisfied, but afterwards don’t expect to find a place around here to sprawl out and take a nap! Welcome home! But don’t make yourself at home. Because the One we worship this day, the One we have chosen to follow is always on the move!

Jesus certainly never made himself at home. Earlier, in Luke’s gospel we read Jesus saying: ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head’” (Luke 9:58).

Jesus was on a journey and the first words of our scripture lesson this morning remind us what type of journey that was: “On the way to Jerusalem…”  Jesus was following a way of self-denial, self-giving, and sacrifice. He was on the way to the cross. The world, of course, calls this way a foolish way. Jesus called it the only way.

On the way to Jerusalem, Luke tells us that “Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” Talk about foolish. First of all, every good Jew knew when you traveled from Galilee to Jerusalem it is always best to take the Samaria-Bypass to avoid the unfriendly Samaritans. And Jesus, who had already been turned away from the Samaritans because, “his face was set towards Jerusalem” (Luke 9:53) knew going down any other road was considered to be very unwise.

Secondly, because the two countries bordered one another, going through a region between Samaria and Galilee makes about as much sense as going into a region between North Carolina and Virginia. Not only does Jesus take the road less traveled, Jesus takes it to some in-between place. Perhaps it was like some place outside of Fountain. Hang a left off of 258 and who knows what county you’re in! Wilson? Pitt? Edgecombe? Or somewhere in between?

And it is in this in-between pace, where boundary lines are blurred, Jesus starts to enter a village. Is it in Samaria or Galilee? Who knows? And it is there, at the edge of this village, where he is approached by ten lepers. Some from Galilee; others Samaria.

Leprosy is described by Leviticus 13 as a white rash or swelling on the skin. Leprosy may or may not itch and is not contagious. What made the disease so horrible was not so much the physical pain as it was the spiritual pain. Lepers were considered to be unclean like none other, thus forced to live outside of villages away from the general population. The ten lepers are living somewhere out on the edge of town when they see Jesus entering the village and cry out, “Jesus, master, have mercy on us.”

Jesus orders them to go show themselves to a priest so they could be restored immediately and welcomed back home to life within their communities. As they went, Luke says that they all were made clean. Then one of them, just one out of ten, one who just happened to be a foreigner, a Samaritan, returned praising God and thanking Jesus.

So you see? As welcomed as we are here in this place, as warm and as comfortable we may feel here, as sweet as the tea and the pecan pie tastes, Jesus wants all of us to get out of here!

Jesus wants us to get out here, leave home, to share the good news of God’s hospitable grace and the unconditional love we experience here with all people. And the gospel is specifically calling us to venture out, to leave our comfort zones, this place we call home, to minister to folks who feel very far from home. And the irony is that we do not have to go far from home to find them.

Our church has been invited to minister to the residents at the Heritage Nursing Home in Farmville each Sunday morning in November. When we go, guess who we will find?

We will find men and women who have lost track of time and space. Sometimes they have trouble discerning whether it is day or night, the weekend or a weekday, even discerning their current whereabouts. And there are folks like these are everywhere. They are in nursing homes and hospitals and some are at home, but are they far from home: countless people living somewhere in-between. Lines blurred; time and space, fuzzy.

No, you do not have to travel far to find people everywhere who have lost track of time and space due to depression, overwhelming grief, all types of sickness and pain, anguish, anxiety, addictions, financial stress, dementia, or the side effects of medication. They are lost and alone, grieving, suffering, despairing—living on the edge. Some may be incarcerated, imprisoned by the state, while others reside at in a perpetual imprisoned state. Some feel abandoned by family. Some feel abandoned by the church, and some even feel abandoned by God. Some are not sure if God is for them or against them. For a myriad of reasons, within their souls they are drifting, roaming far from home barely getting by in a foreign state of mind and spirit.

But Jesus, we like it…here!  We’re home and we’re comfortable. And not only does it make us uncomfortable to be around the lost, it discourages us. Jesus, we have gone out before. We have visited the hospitals. We have been to the nursing home. We have stood in line at the funeral home. We have sat for hours with our lost neighbors, and we have served countless meals to those living on the edge at the Soup Kitchen. We have even visited the prisons. Each time we went, we extended your grace and shared your love. But, here’s the thing Jesus, very few ever seem to be receptive.

Jesus says, “Odds are: only about one out of ten. And yes, it’s discouraging, but here’s the good news, when you find that one who is receptive, they may have something wonderful to teach you about faith in God and salvation.”

After Jesus asked about the other nine, and pointed out that it was a “foreigner” who returned to give thanks, Jesus tells the foreigner that his faith had made him well, or more literally, his faith had saved him, thereby making this foreign, estranged outsider living in a fuzzy, blurred-lined, in-between kind of place a lesson of salvation for us all.

Last month I had the privilege to visit with a beautiful woman during her last days on this earth at the Hospice Home in Greenville. She was only 64 years old. One day, I arrived around 4 in the afternoon. She looked at the clock and asked me why I had come to see her so early in the morning. Her mind, clouded by morphine, did not know if it was day or night.

That same week, during a visit with her daughter, the dying woman, with tears in her eyes, asked a very familiar question. She asked: “Lord, Why me?” The daughter thought to herself, “Yes, mama, why you? Why do you have to have the stupid disease? Lord, Why you?

Her mother then surprised her daughter by finishing her question. She asked: “Why me, Lord? Why am I so lucky? Why have so many people come to visit me while I have been sick? Why do I have such a loving family, such good friends? Why do I have such a wonderful life?

Instead of being bitter about the years she would not have, she was grateful to God for the years that she did have. Instead of being angry that she was leaving her beloved family and dear friends, she was grateful that she had devoted friends and family. Even in a state where lines were blurred, time and space—fuzzy, she recognized that all of life is but a gift of God’s inexplicable grace. And there in a foreign place, living on the edge in-between life and death she turned, thanked Jesus and praised God.

And her daughter knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her mother was saved.

I believe Jesus pointed out that it was a foreigner whose faith had saved him as way of saying to us: “Dare to leave your comfort zone to minster to those who are struggling somewhere in a foreign state, but when you go, it is important to realize that you do not go as if you are one with all of the answers, possessing all of the faith, going out as if on a crusade to save all those with less faith. Because oftentimes, says Jesus, it is the one living on the edge, the foreigner, who can teach us a thing or two about faith in God and salvation.

The table has been set, the grounds have been prepared and the feast is ready! We cannot welcome you more. But just remember, you cannot stay here. Enjoy your dinner, your sweet tea and pecan pie, but if you want to be the church and the people that God is calling you to be, you’ve got to get out of here. You have to leave this comfort zone to share the hope, grace, love, good news and hospitality you experience here at home with all those who are very far from home.

We’re Small, but We Can Do Some Big Things!

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C1 Comment

Mustard-Seed-Faith-by-CRILuke 17:3-6 NRSV

As Luke begins his gospel by addressing Theophilus, I want to begin the sermon this morning addressing Luke.

Dear Luke:

Thank you for your careful investigation and for the very orderly account you gave us so that we may know the truth concerning the life, death and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. However, on this World Communion Sunday, on the behalf of millions of Christians spread across this globe, and especially on the behalf of a handful of Christians here in Farmville, North Carolina, I would like to voice a concern that many of us have. (Sounds pretty tactful so far, don’t you think? Because here comes the boom!)

Luke, my dear brother in Christ, you are killing us. I mean, brother come on! For five weeks now you have been asking us to do some very big things! You have told us that if we want to be disciples of Jesus it is going to mean losing ourselves, denying ourselves, being a community that is always more concerned about others, about the outsider, than we are about ourselves.  It means having a strong passion for the poor, those we regard as “the least of these.” You have even told us that following Jesus involves a cross and we are going to have to carry it! Brother, come on!

Luke, during these five weeks, we have listened as you have shared some pretty outlandish parables of Jesus. And yes, although some revealed that there is nothing in this world that can separate us from the grace of God, which was rather comforting, they also re-emphasized that Jesus wants us to extend this same grace and to all people, which, quite frankly makes us rather uncomfortable. And last Sunday, you even had the audacity to bring Hell into it. You warned us that if we continued to believe that we were more blessed and favored than others, one day, we might find ourselves in flames begging one of those “others” for a sip of water!

So, come on Luke, enough already. We simply cannot take it anymore. We just can’t handle it. You are asking far too much from us! Being a community of love and forgiveness for all people is just too messy, too hard, too risky, and takes too much of our time. There’s just so much pride we can swallow at one time. And besides, we have enough of our own problems to worry about.

We have our own kids to take care of. Luke, I am not sure if you know about these things, but we have these things called soccer, football, volleyball, cross country, cheerleading and dance. And some of our kids have special needs, and then on top of that, there are our parents who are getting on up there in age with their own special needs. And did we mention that we have full-time jobs?

Oh, yes, there are some of us who are retired, but we too have our own needs. The truth is some of us are just too tired and too old to keep doing all these things that Jesus demands. You ask us to deny ourselves and carry a cross, when just trying to survive each day is like carrying a cross.

And Luke, have you seen our church lately? Have you seen how small we have become these days? We just don’t have the resources that we once had. So many good people have passed away. We have lost too many hard workers, too many teachers, too many people with some deep pockets, if you know what I mean. And have you seen our building? It is over 100 years old! So many repairs, renovations are needed. It is about all we can just do to keep it up.

So Luke, with all due respect, if you really need us to do more than we are doing now, if you want us to be more that we already are, if you really want us to reach out to others, sacrifice, be a community of love and forgiveness for all, and on top of all of that carry a cross, then something is gonna have to give. You are going to have to find a way to give us some more faith, because there is just too little left here. Sincerely, your friend and brother in Christ, Jarrett Banks

After Jesus finished speaking about the need to forgive people who have wronged them not once, but seven times, the disciples, like a crowd of exasperated members of a small, struggling old church in a small town in Eastern North Carolina, said: “Come on Jesus. You are killing us. Enough already. We simply cannot take it anymore. We just can’t handle it. You are asking far too much from us! If you really want us to do more, you need to “increase our faith” (Luke 17:5).

It is then that Jesus responded with some very good news: “If you had the faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”

And to really understand just how good this news is we need to understand something about the Greek language and the use of the word “if”. In the Greek, it is used two different ways. One is to express a condition contrary to a fact, “If I were you.” The second way is to express a condition according to the fact, “If God is for us, who can be against us.” Here, Jesus is using the latter. In the original Greek, Jesus was saying: “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed,” (And you do have it) then you can do some very big and miraculous things!

When the exasperated disciples got to a point when something just had to give, when they just did not believe they had enough of what it takes to be the people Jesus was calling them to be, they said: “Then, Jesus, increase our faith!”

Jesus responded: “Here’s the good news! I don’t have to increase it, because it only takes a little to do some very big things. And since, by the grace of God, you have a little, (you would not be following me if you didn’t) although your numbers are small, although you have very little left in the tank, in fact, I know that some of you are currently running on fumes, I have already given you what you need to do some very big things. If fact, as small as you are, as frail as some of you are, as uneducated and misinformed some are, although you constantly misunderstand what I have been teaching you, although some of you will even betray me, others will deny me, and when the going gets tough all may desert me, I have given you all that you need to change the world!

Night is falling. Jesus has been teaching out on a hillside. And the crowd that showed up that day, well, they were getting hungry.

The disciples with a little panic in their voices insist: “Jesus, there’s a thousand hungry people out there. We need to send them back to town so they can buy something to eat.”

Jesus asks, “But tell me what do you have?”

“Jesus, something’s got to give because we have very little. Just a few loaves and two miserable little fish.”

Jesus takes what they have, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it.  And, the good news is: it is enough.

However, that is not the end of the story.  Although that would be enough, there is more.  We read where “all ate and all were filled.”  They were all fulfilled, all satisfied.  They just didn’t receive something to “tie them over” until they got back into town.  They ate until they were full and satisfied.

But the story doesn’t even in end there.  They took up what was left over and 12 baskets were filled. The truth is: there was not enough.  There was more than enough. There was not only fulfillment and satisfaction, but there was a surplus. The good news is: This is simply the way it is with Jesus.

All of ye of little faith, those of us who complain that we are just too small, too old, too tired, to transform this church, to transform this community, and to change our world, this good news that Jesus always gives us more than enough is not new news to us.

Let’s take just a few minutes now and think about it.  Let’s go back in time several years. Remember that time before the divorce or separation, before the diagnosis, before you lost your job, before the flood, before the tornado, before the miscarriage, before the accident, before your child was lost, before your spouse died.  During that time before the pain, before the grief, imagine that God came to you in a dream and revealed every hardship you would have to endure in your life.  How would you have responded?

I know how I would have responded. God, you are killing me. There is just no way. Come on God, enough already. Something will have to give. There’s just no way I can do it. I simply do not have what it takes. If you really want me to make it, Lord, you are going to have to increase my faith!

And Jesus would say, “I don’t have to. I have already given you what you need.” And guess what, the good news is, and we knew it all the while, Jesus is absolutely right.

On this World Communion Sunday, we have gathered with Christians all over the world around a very small but very holy table. From this table, we take into our hands what may be one of the smallest, tiniest pieces of bread that we have ever held, and we put what resembles a mere crumb into our mouths, and we eat it.. And then we take the smallest of cups, and sip the smallest amount of juice.  It is just a small taste really, but the good news is: it is enough. No, the good news is: it is more than enough. Amen.