Tag: Forgiveness

We Need a Slap in the Face

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

Luke 6:27-38 NRSV

These words from Jesus are some of the most difficult words to preach in the entire Bible. They are so counter-cultural, so offensive, that we would rather ignore them.

But these are the words of Jesus, and these are some of his very first words. So, if we want to call ourselves Christian, we cannot ignore them.

So, to avoid offending too many people, losing too many congregants, and, frankly, to avoid getting fired, preachers have this special knack of using a little hermeneutical smoke and mirrors. We pull this off by talking less about what the passages are saying, and more about what they are not saying. It’s a technique that preachers employ to keep their congregants happy.

And sadly, and tragically, this is one of the main reasons that many churches today, and many so-called Christian people, act nothing like Jesus.

Here’s an example of how it is done:

“But if anyone strikes you on one cheek, turn the other also.”

Now, Jesus is not saying here that should be pushovers.

“Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you!”

Now, Jesus is not saying here that we should help those who are perfectly capable of helping themselves.

“Love your enemies.”

Now Jesus is not saying we have to like them!

See how that is done? Preachers get away with this all the time, and their congregations let them, because the preacher is saying the things they only wished Jesus said.

And then, to put the finishing touch on this chicanery, preachers quickly skip to the end of the passage and point out verse 36: “Be merciful, as your heavenly Father is merciful.”

It is then they say: “You see. None of us can be like God. Therefore, Jesus really does not expect us to do any of these things. He is just laying out some very high ideals—ideals that we can never live up to. Jesus is trying to reveal just how sinful and unworthy we are.

That’s when preachers leave these words of Jesus and go off on a tangent about grace and the need to accept Christ as our personal savior because none of us are like God, and we all fall short of the glory of God.

Now, I believe in grace. I need grace. I am by no means close to being a merciful as God, so grace is my friend. Grace is my hope. Grace is amazing. But here’s the problem with using grace as an excuse to not obey these counter-cultural commands of Jesus, and it is a huge problem— At the end of the sermon, Jesus (as if he knows we will try to use grace as some get-out-of-doing-what-I-say card) says, beginning with verse 46:

 Why do you call me “Lord, Lord”, and do not do what I tell you? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, hears my words, and acts on them. That one is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when a flood arose, the river burst against that house but could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not act is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, immediately it fell, and great was the ruin of that house.’

So, what are we to do with these passages? When someone slaps us in the face, does Jesus really want us to turn and give them the other cheek to slap? And are we really supposed to give people the very shirts off our backs? Give to everyone who begs of us? Really?

No, this just can’t be. For it is directly opposed to almost every instinct we possess.

We read these words of Jesus, and many of us have a problem. Let’s face it. We have a big problem.

Now, are you ready for some good news?

Well, you are going to have to wait, because the bad news is still coming.

The truth is: these very difficult and offensive words of Jesus expose an even bigger problem for most of us. Think about it…

When was the last time that you have taken a stand against an evil, an injustice, stood up for someone who was being marginalized and scapegoated, and because of that stand, because you stood up and spoke out, the supporters of that evil, not only sent you a nasty email, defriended you on Facebook, personally confronted you, but became so offended they physically attacked you by slapping you in the face?

What I am asking is: when was the last time that we’ve even had an opportunity to turn the other cheek?

When was the last time someone who was very cold approached you, and knew you well enough to ask you to give them the very coat that you were wearing? When is the last time anyone has asked you to sacrifice warmth so they could be warm? When was the last time that you even had the opportunity to offer someone in need the shirt off your back?

When was the last time that someone in great need came to you and begged for you to help them? I am not talking about the person you see holding a sign at an intersection, “Help. Homeless Vet.”  I am talking about someone whose name you knew, someone who knew your name, someone who felt like they could trust you, someone coming to you personally, swallowing their pride, and asking you for help?

Jesus says we are to love our enemies, but when was the last time that we’ve made an enemy? After all, isn’t confrontation something we all like to avoid? Isn’t it better, especially in this day and time, to mind our own business, keep our thoughts to ourselves, especially when it is about religion or politics?

Our problem is not that we are unwilling to turn the other cheek. Our problem is that we are so private, so unconcerned about anyone other than ourselves, that we never get off our blessed assurances to cause any confrontations.

Our problem is not that we are unwilling to give someone the shirt off our back. Our problem is that we are never around anyone who needs our coat.

Our problem is not that we are unwilling to give to the needy who personally approach us and beg of us. Our problem is that we do not personally know anyone in need.

Our problem is not that we are unwilling to love our enemies. Our problem is that most of us have never created any. We are so afraid of anything that might cause us a little discomfort, we never put ourselves out there to make any enemies.

And if we ever become bold enough to speak out, to take up for another or some gospel principle, if we know we have offended another, we usually go out of our way to always avoid that other. If we turn to go down an aisle at Kroger and see them, we will quickly turn and go to the opposite end of the store. Or we might leave and finish our shopping at Food Lion.

And because we stay away from those we have offended, because we keep our enemies at such a safe distance, we are simply nowhere close enough to them to even think about loving them.

You’ve heard the wisdom of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

The late Presbyterian author and preacher Frederick Buechner spoke of this wisdom:

If your enemies are close—

You see the lines in their faces and the way they walk when they’re tired. You see who their husbands and wives are, maybe.

You see where they’re vulnerable. You see where they’re scared.

 Seeing what is hateful about them, you may catch a glimpse also of where the hatefulness comes from.

Seeing the hurt they cause you, you may see also the hurt they cause themselves.

You’re still light-years away from loving them, to be sure, but at least you see how they are human even as you are human, and that is at least a step in the right direction.

It’s possible that you may even get to where you can pray for them a little, if only that God forgive them because you yourself can’t, but any prayer for them at all is a major breakthrough.

I believe Jesus is urging us to come close enough to others that we will truly be able to see them as beloved children of God, that tere is no “us” and “them.” There is only “us” as the Most High is kind to the ungrateful and to the wicked.

Now, here is the good news:

The good news is: You are here! You have put yourself out there! You are not so self-absorbed and selfish that you stayed home this morning. Your self-concern has not crowded out your moral concern.

The good news is: You are here, and together, as a church, we are going to go places where we will encounter people who are in such need that they may ask for our coats. And we will have opportunities to sacrificially offer them our shirts. We will get to know people who are so desperate that they may beg of us. And we will have opportunities to selflessly give.

Together, we will speak up, speak out, and stand firm for the gospel of Jesus Christ, for the prophetic justice he taught, and for the unconditional love for all people he modeled.

And yes, because this way of Jesus is socially unacceptable today in our country and in our city, we are certain to make some enemies. Like churches all over this country who are boldly standing up and speaking out, our property may be vandalized. Our flag will continue to be stolen. We are apt to stir up so much anger in some people that they will not only de-friend us on Facebook, send us ugly emails, but they may want to slap us in the face!

But together, because it is impossible to do it alone, together, as part of the household of God, we will not ignore them. Nor will we run and hide from them. We are having a discussion in our fellowship hall this Wednesday night to learn to have conversations with them. And we are having a workshop next month with Father John Dear to learn how to resist them nonviolently. We will learn together how to turn other cheek. We will learn together how to pray for them and how to love them. We will learn what actions we can take to make this world more peaceful, just, and equitable.

And no, we will never be as merciful as God, far from it. But we are going to do all we can do to stand up for mercy and to plead for mercy whenever poor people are called parasites, immigrants are scapegoated and transgendered and non-binary people are erased. We will stand together and stand up to the wicked in power who, full of lies, greed and hate, enrich themselves while trampling the poor, and then, we will at least be on our way, prayerfully, lovingly doing what we can, where we can, to become like the wise one who built a house on rock. And when the rains fall, the floods come, and the winds blow and beat on our house, it will not fall. Amen.

Go Figure!

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

Matthew 18:21-35 NRSV

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

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

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

Like our gospel lesson this morning:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two more children!” I responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Jesus Fish

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

Hell coming

Luke 24:36-48 NRSV

Our scripture lesson this morning has always intrigued me, especially the picture of the resurrected Christ asking for and eating piece of broiled fish.

When I was growing up, my Baptist church had a week of revival every August. We had services Sunday Night through Friday night, and concluded the revival with a fish fry on Saturday.

Six long nights: 30 minutes of singing; one hour of preaching; and then thirty more minutes of altar call. It was hot. It was humid. It was more scary.

The guest preachers would always preach that heaven or hell is coming, and it’s coming sooner than later, so we better get ready! Although I’d never really feared going to hell; as a nine, ten, eleven-year old, going to heaven was not a place I wanted to go to anytime soon.

The only thing that got me through the week, and I suspect a few others, was that big, delicious fish fry that awaited us on Saturday.

Every year, without exception, preachers would frighten us with their heaven-or-hell-is-right-around-the-corner sermons. However, I remember that one preacher preached a particular sermon that made me feel a lot better about going to heaven.

It was Friday night, and bless his heart, I suppose he was trying to connect the revival service with the fish fry that everyone was looking forward to the next day.

He said that one of the most appropriate things we can do at the end of these services is to have a fish fry. He said: “After all, most of Jesus’ disciples were fishermen. And Jesus called the disciples ‘fishers of men.’”

He also pointed out that the early Christians used the Greek word translated “fish” as an acronym for the first letters Greek words translated “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior,” and how the sign of the fish was used to identify Christian communities, especially during the time when the church was persecuted.

But he did not get my full attention until he said: “But the reason that our fish fry tomorrow is especially appropriate is because when we all get to heaven with our new resurrected bodies, we are going to eat fish with Jesus, because after Jesus was resurrected, Jesus ate fish!”

For the very first time all week, I wanted to jump out of my pew and shout: “Amen! Brother, preach it!” Because that preacher answered one of those deep theological questions that no one could answer for me, a question that was more important than: “If God created the world, who created God?” or “Who was Cain’s wife? or “Did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons?”

He answered the all important: “Are we going to be able to eat in heaven?” The answer is a resounding yes! We are going to be able to eat fish! And for someone who loved to eat, and especially loved eating seafood, it took the fear of dying right away.

I really like this interpretation; however, I am pretty sure Luke, through the telling of this story, is trying to teach us something more.

Last Sunday, one of you asked me: “Isn’t Tilapia what they call ‘the Jesus fish?’” That really got me thinking about our scripture lesson this morning. What kind of fish did Jesus eat? And, what was the risen Christ trying to teach the disciples, and teach us, by asking for and eating a piece of broiled fish? Do you suppose Jesus, in his new resurrected body, was hungry? After all, from all we know, he hasn’t had anything to eat since that Thursday evening in the upper room.

To answer these questions, like all biblical questions, it is always important to put the story in its context.

The disciples had disappointed Jesus, and they knew it. The disciples had failed Jesus, and it was obvious. The disciples had forsaken Jesus, and they were cowering. For thirty pieces of silver, one of them betrayed Jesus with a kiss and then took his own life. One of them denied three times even knowing who Jesus was. To save their own necks, to avoid carrying a cross themselves, all of them in some way had abandoned Jesus in his hour of need.

And now they have received news that Jesus had come back from the grave. Which meant that he was probably coming straight for them. And considering their great failure at discipleship, they just knew that if he was coming, he was bringing hell with him!

“While they were talking about this…”

Can you imagine their conversation? “What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? How do we hide?”

John tells us the doors of the house where the disciples had gathered were locked for fear of the Jews. Perhaps the name of one of those Jews was Jesus.

It is then,

Jesus himself stood among them… They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost.

Notice that they were not only “startled,” they were “startled and terrified.”

I bet they were!  Like a ten-year old at a Baptist revival! For I am sure that in that moment they just knew that heaven or hell was right around the corner!

But then, notice what happens next. Jesus does not point out their failures. He doesn’t mention their denials, their betrayal, their abandonment. He does not shame them, guilt them or say anything to elicit any feelings remorse whatsoever for their bad behavior.

There are no words of judgment or condemnation. Jesus doesn’t give them a sermon on how they should have been better or even how they could do better.

Jesus surprises them and surprises us by saying, “Peace be with you.” To those who have very good reasons to be afraid, Jesus says, “Peace.”

He empathetically asks: ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?”

It is then where Jesus begins doing all that he can to relieve their doubts and fears. He shows them his hands and feet to prove that he was not some vengeful ghost come back to haunt them for their misdeeds.

And seeing a little joy in their eyes, but still sensing some lingering apprehension, Jesus takes it a step further and asks for something to eat. They hand him a piece of broiled fish that he eats in their presence.

He eats “in their presence.” It has been said that in sharing a meal with someone that we become most aware of who we are and with whom we are.  In the previous scripture passage, on the road to Emmaus, when was Jesus made known to them? In the breaking of the bread.

Throughout the world, sharing a meal with someone has always been understood a great act of solidarity. Thus, in eating that fish, Jesus was not only making the statement that he was not some vindictive ghost, Jesus was making the statement that he was their merciful friend. He was their gracious brother. In spite of all of their denials and betrayals, in spite of being abandoned, tortured, humiliated and crucified, Jesus still loves them and is still willing to join them at the table.

If the disciples had any doubts that their sins were forgiven, those doubts quickly vanished when Jesus took the first bite of that broiled fish.

And it quickly became apparent to the disciples that the fish Jesus asked to eat was not for him. It was for them. It was not the risen Christ who was hungry. It was the disciples who were hungry.

So, what kind of fish did Jesus eat?

It was a fish of unconditional love. It was a fish of unlimited mercy. It was a fish of radical inclusion. It was a fish of amazing grace. It was a fish that revealed nothing on earth or in heaven can ever separate us from the love of God.

It was a fish that revealed God is always willing go a step further to proclaim the good news of Easter: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

“My love for you has no end. My love for you never fails. My love does not keep an account of wrongdoing. My love is without reservations, without conditions. My love offers a grace that is greater than all sin and a peace that surpasses all understanding.”

Peace be with you, for you are my sons. You are my daughters. I have always loved you. I still love you. And I will love you forever. I will forgive you always. Peace, for I am making all things new. Fear not, for I am working all things together for the good. Do not doubt, for I am the resurrection and the life, and because I live you will also live. Peace be with you.”

The risen Christ ate fish—filling, satisfying, delicious fish—not because he was hungry, but because we are hungry.

It is very important for us to pay close attention to what happens next in our lesson: “Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed to all nations.”

What kind of fish did Jesus eat? He ate a fish that has the power to open minds!

Perhaps more than anything else, what the church needs are more minds that are open to understand the scriptures teach us that graceis what we are to proclaim to all nations.

Grace. Not judgment. Not condemnation. Not fear. Not shame. Not fire and brimstone. For those things never bring peace. Those things never bring healing.

It is unconditional love and peace that is to be proclaimed to all nations, beginning right here, from this very place where we became witnesses to these things:

  • Where we witnessed the words of the resurrected Christ: “Peace, be with you”: words spoken to remove all fear.
  • Where we witnessed the wounds in his hands and feet: wounds that have the power to heal the world.
  • Where we witnessed the Risen Lord eating a piece of broiled fish: where we experienced a grace that will satisfy the hunger of all humanity this day and forevermore. Peace be with you. Amen.

 

Invitation to Communion

This is the Lord’s table. He is the host. We are his guests.

He welcomes everyone to come and eat and be nourished, fed and forgiven.

Come and eat and live!

The only people excluded from our communion table are those that Jesus himself would exclude and that is nobody.

All are welcome.

 

Commissioning and Benediction

Go in courage and peace, proclaiming the Risen Lord to all!

Having witnessed unconditional love and unfettered grace,

Be a people who bring hope and justice to a hungry and hurting world!

The peace of the Lord is with you now and forever. AMEN.

Repeat the Sounding Joy

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Guest BloggersLeave a comment

communionThe following was written by Alison Lord Stuart on January 12, 2015 for The Daily Reflector.

A good question to ask ourselves in the cold of January is just what will we take from Christmas into the New Year.  Maybe argyle socks, penny loafers, a cherished memory or an unspeakable loss.  Whatever it is that we fold in for the long journey, we will be different because of it.

Throughout December, I was mesmerized by certain words found in Joy To The World; “repeat the sounding joy.”  I have thought of the beauty wrapped into “sounding joy” and often wondered what it could be.  Then I heard it one morning at First Christian Church in Farmville and almost like an epiphany, I knew.  After the serving of Holy Communion, it was the sound of Communion cups being placed in pew holders. Similar, indeed, to the sound of pew benches being turned back after the serving of the same Sacrament. Both sounds indicating that our singular and corporate seeking of God’s forgiveness is fully present and fully heard.

For Believers, it is a majestic, full bodied, orchestration of sound.  The perfect balance; the fulcrum of falling short and being the beneficiary of unconditional love.  In a long week, month or year, it is a sound to be coveted. It is the sound of hope.

God’s will is that the discordance of our sin doesn’t have to be the end of our song or life story.  Forgiveness, strength and renewal are at God’s Table, there for the asking, freely given and freely received.

The sounding joy given to us by a Risen Savior is grace. It is in the wiping clean of our tarnished slates, in forgiving ourselves and others, and experiencing the dignity of a new beginning.  It is best heard when we rest our weary souls in the hollow of God’s hand, listen and repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

Grace in Galilee

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

easter angel

Mark 16:1-8 NRSV

The messenger tells the women at the tomb, “Go, tell his disciples—and Peter—that he is going ahead of you to Galilee’ there you will see him, just as he told you.”

What a peculiar thing to say. What does he mean “the disciples and Peter?”  Is Peter no longer a disciple? That’s like someone saying, “Go tell the choir—and Harold.”  When was Harold ever not a part of the choir?

Go tell the disciples—and Peter.  It would be, of course, fair to assume, that on this first Easter Sunday morning, Peter just might be outside Jesus’ circle of trust.

When Jesus is arrested in the garden of Gethsemene, John tells us that it was Peter who protested by drawing his sword and cutting the ear off the slave of the High Priest. Jesus chastises Peter and heals the man’s ear.  In this action, Peter proves that he has missed the whole point of Jesus’ ministry and purpose.  All throughout his ministry, Jesus spoke of turning the other cheek, laying down one’s life, losing one’s self, dying to self, and loving one’s enemies, and here is Peter, at the end of Jesus’ ministry, demonstrating that he doesn’t have a clue who Jesus is or what his Kingdom is all about.

Then after Jesus is arrested and taken to the high priest, Marks says that Peter followed behind at safe distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest where Jesus would be tried. He sat outside with the guards, warming himself at a fire when this servant girl of the high priest stares at him.  She then approaches Peter: “I know you. You were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.”  Peter denies it saying, “Girl, I don’t know and I don’t even understand what you’re talking about.”

Then Peter, trying to save his own skin, tries to make an exit.  This one who has been taught that those who try to save their life will lose it, slips out into the forecourt. A cock crows.

The same servant girl followed him and started talking about him to all the bystanders saying, “This man is definitely, one of them.”  But again, Peter denied it.  Then, it is one of the bystanders who goes up to Peter and says, “I know you’re with that Jesus, because you’re not from the city, you are from the country, you’re a Galilean.”

Then Peter, this disciple of Jesus, this one who has been taught by Jesus to do unto others as he would have them do unto him, this one who has been taught that the greatest commandment is to love one another, curses at the innocent bystander.  And then, this one who was taught by Jesus to never swear with an oath, let your yes be yes an your no be no, always be honest and truthful, lies again, this time emphatically, by swearing an oath, “I told you that I don’t know this man that you are talking about.”

And that moment, Mark says, the cock crowed for the second time.  Then Peter remembered Jesus’ words to him, “Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.”  And he broke down and wept.

So of course it is very fair to assume that Peter is now way outside the circle. Simon Peter simply never got it. He never got the point of understanding who Jesus was or what his Kingdom was all about.  Peter was as dumb at Easter as he was at Christmas.  One could say that he was a complete failure at being a disciple.

And what maybe worse, he was a failure and he knew that he was a failure.  That’s why we find him at the end of Mark’s story crying like a baby.

“Go tell the disciples and Peter—this has-been, washed-up and flunked-out disciple who is far, far outside my circle.”

Now, it would be easy to believe this interpretation if it wasn’t for one important fact.  All of the disciples were flunkies.  In the Gospel of Mark, none of them get it.  After Jesus was arrested, while Peter was following the soldiers and Jesus into the courtyard of the High Priest, where are all of the others?  Read verse 50 of chapter 14.  “All of them deserted him and fled.”

They’re all losers. They all cared more about their own lives then they did Jesus.  And not only that, even the women in Mark’s gospel, the women who always appear in the gospels to be just a little more astute than the men, even the women do not seem to get it.  “Go tell the disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him just as he told you.”  And what did they do? “Go, tell,” said the angel.  Read verse 8:  “and they said nothing to anyone.”

No, in saying, go tell the disciples and Peter, the messenger of God was not inferring that Peter was outside the circle. God was saying that Peter, despite everything that he had done, despite everything that he hadn’t done, despite his stupidity, his failings, his denials, Peter was still very much in the circle.

The angel was saying: “Go tell all the disciples that Jesus has be raised for them, and please, especially tell Peter. Tell him to dry up his tears in spite of all of his sin, his failure to follow Jesus, and his denials.”

Jesus is alive for all, maybe more so for Peter.

“Please let this one who feels like an outcast, who feels so much outside the circle of God’s love, that if Death could not separate him from Jesus love, his sin and his denials were certainly not going to do it. Jesus is alive for all of the disciples, and even, especially Peter, especially this one who realizes his failure. Jesus is alive for even Peter, and the good news is, even for you and for even me.

Go tell the disciples and Peter. It is not a peculiar thing to say. It is good news. It is not odd. It is amazing. It is good, amazing grace.  It is the good, amazing news of Easter. God offered us the very best that God had to offer, the gift of God’s self through Jesus Christ. We reciprocated that gift with the worse that we had to offer—the cross.  And yet, God still raises Jesus from the dead and sends him back to the very ones who nailed him to a tree.

Now, let me tell you what’ really odd about this text. “Go tell the disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee.”  To Galilee?  Now that’s peculiar. On the first day of his eternal life, Jesus decides not to go to the capital city, not to the places of power and prestige, not to where he could really get some attention, be some breaking news before millions, but he chooses to go to Galilee.[i]

Compared to Jerusalem, Galilee is backwoods, insignificant. Galilee is way out in the country, way out of the way.

One might have thought, that upon being raised from the dead, Jesus would stride triumphantly back into Jerusalem. Imagine what a stirring sight that would have been. Jesus could have strolled right into the palace and said, “Pontius Pilate, I am afraid you’ve made a big mistake.”  Or he might have stood on the steps of the temple, chiding the crowds for their fickleness and betrayal, showing himself to the multitudes that were present when he was crucified.

Jesus, however did none of that.  Rather, he went on ahead of his own disciples to meet them back in Galilee.

That is, Jesus will meet his disciples in a rather ordinary place, a place where their discipleship began. Jesus had come out to where they lived, out to Galilee. They had attempted to be his disciples mostly in Galilee. It was in Galilee where they left good paying jobs, their families all forms of security to follow Jesus.

In Jerusalem, they had betrayed and deserted him.  Back home, in Galilee they accepted and followed him.

And Jesus goes back home—to Galilee. The failure of the disciples, the denial of Peter, the disobedience of the women, none of this is the end of the story. A fresh start can be made, and where will this new beginning be? Where is the risen Christ? Back where it all began, back home in Galilee.

The good news of Easter is that in spite of our sins, our failures to follow him, our denials and betrayals, Jesus is alive—Jesus is on the loose—Jesus is moving.  Where?  Out in Galilee.  He’s out where the disciples live. He’s out where you live and I live. At home, out in Galilee.

The risen Christ always appears to the disciples in the most ordinary of places: at breakfast, on the beach, while they are at work.  Something about the risen Christ loves to meet people in the most ordinary places.  That’s good if you want to meet Jesus, because most of us live and most of us work in ordinary places, like Galilee.

Go tell the disciples and especially Peter that Jesus is going ahead of them to Galilee. And, there in Galilee, there in a most ordinary place, you will find grace.

Go tell these sinful, selfish, human beings, these very ordinary fishermen, even this one named Peter who thinks I have forsaken him, that I am going ahead of them, back to the place where it all started.  Forgiveness of sins, a fresh new beginning, a brand new start is available where?  In the most ordinary of places—at home, where you live, where you work.

The good news is that no matter what we have done, no matter who we are, even if we are just as dumb at Easter as we were at Christmas, Jesus lives for us. And we don’t have to go anywhere special or do anything special to meet him. He’s gone on, ahead of you, ahead of me.  He’s gone to where we live.

The good news of this day of days is that we, even sinners like us, can go home today. We can go back to our homes here in Farmville, in Fountain, in Wilson, Tarboro, Greenville, Winterville, New Bern, we can even go down back into Greene County, and there, wherever we go, in our most ordinary place, we will find that Jesus is already there, enveloping us with grace, filling our hearts with love with love, giving us a fresh new beginning, a brand new start.

So, go!  Go home. And begin living the first day of your eternal life.

 

[i] Inspired from William Willimon, He Came Back to Us .(http://www.northalabamaumc.org/blogs/detail/177), 2008

 

Lent: A Time to Tell the Truth

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent1 Comment

lenten_cross

A few years ago an Episcopal church in a coastal South Carolina town created a ruckus as when it placed three crosses on the lawn adjacent to their church. They draped them in purple for Lent. After a week or so, the church received a call from the local Chamber of Commerce.

They called complaining, “We hate to cause any trouble, but Spring Break is right the corner, and the tourist season is starting to crank up. And we think those crosses that you’ve erected are just sending the wrong message to visitors on the beach. People don’t want to come down here for a vacation and be confronted with unpleasantness.  On vacation, people want to be escape from all of the unpleasantries of life and relax, be comfortable.”

Well, after much debate, the church stood its ground, and the three crosses stayed.  “It’s Lent,” said the church. “People are supposed to be uncomfortable.”  William Willimon calls Lent “the season of unpleasant uncomfortability.”

Willimon says that one of the reasons this season we call Lent is so unpleasant is that it forces us “to confront so many of those truths about ourselves that we spend much of the rest of our lives avoiding.” Here, during this Lenten season, “we try to tell the truth about ourselves, and sometimes the truth hurts.”

Lent is a time to honestly say, “I am a rotten scoundrel. I do things that I ought not do. I know they are wrong, yet I do them anyway.  I don’t do things that I know I should do. I think way too better of myself than I ought. Even my best deeds are tainted with pride and selfishness.  Sin is so much a part of my life that I cannot escape it.”

Yes, this is the season of telling the truth, even if it pains us a bit.  But here’s the good news.  The truth will set us free! No matter how hideous, disgusting, and abominable our sins are, the God’s honest truth will always set us free, because in Jesus Christ, we have been loved, forgiven and accepted.

On Ash Wednesday, we will gather together to worship. During this special service we tell the truth, and then, we will hear the truth.  We could not do right by God, so God, in Christ, did right by us.

Happy Birthday, Carson! Ah, 19

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Just a ThoughtLeave a comment
Carson
Carson with his sister, Sara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snowflakes from Heaven

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Just a ThoughtLeave a comment

snow-covered-road

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

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

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

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

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

We Cannot Afford to Stop the Celebration!

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

peanuts christmas

Ephesians 1:3-14 NRSV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come on now! Isn’t that overdoing it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let us pray.

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

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

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

Being the Embodiment of Christ – “Forgiveness”

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short Articles3 Comments

I want to begin a several-part series entitled: “Being the Embodiment of Christ.” I want to explore ways that our church can overcome past mistakes, the mistakes of our church as well as the mistakes of the Church (and that is Church with a big “C”). There is no doubt that many of these mistakes have not only wounded the church’s witness, but they have actually wounded the faith of many. I believe we simply must accept responsibility for some of the reasons that people are all but giving up on organized religion these days.

Therefore, I would like to begin this series with a confession and with an appeal for forgiveness. As part of the Body of Christ, we confess that we have not always modeled the life and teachings of Jesus. We have been selfish, self-righteous and judgmental. Like the Pharisees in Jesus’ day, we have often been purveyors of bad theology. We have neglected the poor “at our gate” (Luke 16:20). When God has called us to speak out for justice in our world, we have been silent. When God has called us to stand for peace, we have taken a stance for war. Although we say we believe we will go to heaven to one day to worship with every race and tribe (Revelation 7:9), we prefer a worship that is segregated.

This is by no means a complete list of our sins. However, we believe it is a good start. And we choose to start this process of reconciliation within community. Instead of giving up on the church, we commit ourselves more fully to the church. As Rev. Lillian Daniel has said, “Community is where the religious rubber meets the road. People challenge us, ask the hard questions, disagree, need things from us, require our forgiveness. It’s where we get to practice all the things we preach” (Going Solo). As we ask to be forgiven for our many trespasses, we recommit ourselves to being a community of grace and forgiveness forgiving the trespasses of each other.

One of my favorite preachers and authors, Frederick Buechner, has written some of the best words on the subject of forgiveness that I know:

forgivenessTo forgive somebody is to say one way or another, “You have done something unspeakable, and by all rights I should call it quits between us. Both my pride and my principles demand no less. However, although I make no guarantees that I will be able to forget what you’ve done, and though we may both carry the scars for life, I refuse to let it stand between us. I still want you for my friend.”

To accept forgiveness means to admit that you’ve done something unspeakable that needs to be forgiven, and thus both parties must swallow the same thing: their pride.

This seems to explain what Jesus means when he says to God, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Jesus is not saying that God’s forgiveness is conditional upon our forgiving others. In the first place, forgiveness that’s conditional isn’t really forgiveness at all, just fair warning; and in the second place, our unforgiveness is among those things about us that we need to have God forgive us most. What Jesus apparently is saying is that the pride that keeps us from forgiving is the same pride that keeps us from accepting forgiveness, and will God please help us do something about it.

When somebody you’ve wronged forgives you, you’re spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.

When you forgive somebody who has wronged you, you’re spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.

For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other’s presence. ~originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words

Being a community of grace and forgiveness–I believe it is a great start to begin overcoming the mistakes of our church and of the Church. The truth is, we have to start being such a community if we ever want to welcome back those who have left the church or welcome for the first time those who have never considered being a part of the church. And we absolutely have to be such a community if we want to ever come close to becoming the church that God is calling us to be.