Tag: jesus

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

 

Getting Our Hands Dirty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Problem of the Know-It-All

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

know it allJohn 3:1-17 NRSV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[2] Ibid.

Greatest Love Story Ever Told

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

greatest love storyJesus did his best preaching when he told a story, a parable. Jesus simply told a story, usually taken from the ordinary, everyday experience of life to reveal something extraordinary about who our God is and how much our God loves us. So, at this time, I would like to attempt to do the same.

Once upon a time, a man and a woman who loved each other very much were married (by the way, this is a true story, based on a real couple I know). They shared a wonderful life together.  They lived out their marriage covenant in a way that many couples do not duplicate.  They were completely faithful to one another in every way.  They were never abusive to one another, and neither one ever held any grudges or let selfish ambition come between them.

The couple had been married for nearly thirty-years, when the husband was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. After several unsuccessful brain surgeries to control the progression of his disease, he was left in a catatonic state and had to be admitted to a nursing home. Unable to lift his head, he was spoon-fed and cared for as if he were an infant.  On most days, there was no way to tell if he even knew he was in the world.

Yet, this loving, compassionate wife, who promised to be faithful in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death shall part them, remained very faithful.  A day never went by when she did not visit the nursing home to make sure his needs were being met, letting him know in the best way she can that she will always remain by his side.  And oftentimes, she made his favorite dishes at home: strawberry shortcake, always using pound cake as he liked it, and sometimes a pecan pie.  She would then wrap the dessert up and bring it to the nursing home, where she would place one hand under his chin, lift his head and feed him the cake or pie with the other hand.

I have often thought how wonderful it would be to know that if one day my health fails me, and I wind up in a similar situation, someone will be there for me, to not only check on me daily, to make sure I am treated well, my needs are being met, to stay by my side, but also to prepare my favorite dishes, which just so happens to be strawberry shortcake and pecan pie, hold my chin, lift my head, and feed me.

This is who I believe our God is.  God is a loving spouse who is living out a covenant with us, not only promising to be faithful, to stay by our side, but there at our side, in our weakest moments, takes a hold of our chin, lifts our heads and feeds us pie, a peace beyond understanding.

But you know something. There is something amiss in this parable.  There is something wrong, something missing.  For when we really think about it, as wonderful as this parable is, we realize that it simply fails to do the greatest story ever told appropriate justice.  Especially when we consider that unlike the husband in this parable, we have not always been faithful to our God; when we consider our constant betrayals and our continuous denials. When we consider that when God offered us the very best gift God had to offer, the gift of God’s self, we reciprocated that gift with the very worst we had to offer, the cross.  But remaining faithful, empowered by pure, unconditional love, God summoned the will to resurrect this gift and give him right back to the undeserving ones who killed him, making eternal life possible for all.

Perhaps a more appropriate parable would go something like this:

Once upon a time, a man and a woman who loved each other very much were married. However, they did not share such a wonderful life together. From the very beginning, the husband had a problem with alcohol, which grew as time went on. Although the woman remained true to her marriage covenant, he did not. He had numerous affairs.  He usually blamed the alcohol, but on occasions he would tell his wife that his running around was her fault. He simply did not find her as attractive as he once did.

Family and friends, even her pastor, rightfully tried to persuade the woman to leave the loser. But they did so in vain. She said repeatedly that she promised to remain faithful in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death shall part them, and she intended to do just that. And this husband was not always bad. She said, “At times, when he is sober, he could be a perfect gentleman, always apologizing for his actions. He can even be attentive to my needs.”

But as time went on, those good times became fewer and further apart. The abuse, which had in the past always been verbal and mental, turned into physical abuse.  It got to a point when the woman could hardly remember a day when he was sober and when he did not strike her.

One day, in a drunken rage, he was yelling and screaming for his supper. As the wife, who had been nursing a broken jaw from a previous fight, was preparing it as fast as she could, he hurled abusive insults at her and struck her again on the side of her face that was still swollen.

She said, “Stop it. Please stop it.  Look at yourself. You are not the man that I married. Look what you have let alcohol do to you. You don’t know what you are doing.  Please, please get some help.  Please. Don’t you know that I still love you?”

Interpreting her desperate pleas as being combative and disrespectful, he threatened to kill her if she did not shut up.

She continued, “Please, please, I love you, I really do love you.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door. She went into the den, dropped face first into a pillow on the sofa and began to cry.  Weeping would be more accurate.  He came into a den with a pistol, jumped on top of her and placed it against her head. She cried:  “Please no. I love you, I love you.”

“I swear to God if you don’t shut up and fix my supper I will blow your head off.” Somehow she managed to turn around and place both of her hands on the pistol. As they struggled, the gun went off.  The husband fell to the floor, bleeding from the head.

But the sorry sod was too mean to die. However, he had to be placed in a nursing home, for he was left in a catatonic state, unable to lift even his head. He had to been spoon-fed and taken care of like an infant. On most days, there was no way to tell if he even knew he was in the world.

And yet, this wife, who promised to be faithful in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, till death should part them, remains faithful to this very day. A day does not go by when she does not visit the nursing home to make sure his needs are being met. Letting him know the best way she can that she will always remain by his side. And oftentimes she makes his favorite dishes at home: chocolate cake and coconut pie. She wraps it up and bring it to the nursing home, where she will hold his chin with one hand, lift his head and feed him with the other.

Of course, unlike the first parable this one is not based on any man or woman I know. For no one could possibly have so much compassion, be so forgiving, so loving, so patient, so merciful, yet so offensive. No one loves with such socially unacceptable grace, no one except God, as revealed to us in the greatest love story ever told.

For when God offered us God’s very best, we nailed it to a tree.  And then somehow, some miraculous way, through the power of the resurrection, born out of pure love, God fed us and continues to feed us pie.

Baptized into a Living Hope

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

two rainbows1 Peter 1:3-9 NRSV

They were yearning for the good old days—days when their lives were far less chaotic, days when their lives had some sense of routine, normalcy.  They had been through so much; overcome so many storms.  It was no way they could handle anymore.  At the ends of their ropes, they had simply had enough.

There they were, tired and broken.  No lights, no power, no heat. As soon as they half-way recovered from one storm, another storm was almost on top of them.

With the angry Red Sea before them and Pharaoh’s Army behind them, they cried out to Moses, “We would have been better off dying as slaves in Egypt than out here in the wilderness.  At least they had fine cemeteries back in Egypt to lay our tired, broken bodies.  Out here, we have nothing!”

They continued: “Moses, we can’t take it anymore.  We can’t handle any more stress.  We can’t face another storm.  Moses, we can’t take another step.  We can’t go on any further.  We can’t fight another fight.”

It is then that Moses gives them the good news.  I believe it is one of the most comforting verses in the Old Testament.  To all the people who could not go any further, who had reached the end of their ropes, he said: “You don’t have to take another step.  All you have to do is be still, and the Lord, the Lord will fight for you.” 

And fight the Lord did, making a pathway through their storm, through the middle of the sea.  But God did not stop there. That’s what’s so great about our God.  Our God never stops there.  God then provided the Israelites with an all-you-can-eat buffet of quail and bread from heaven, even cool, fresh water from a rock.  And in their dark, cold world, God said to them, “I will be your light.  I will be as a pillar of fire leading you through this storm.”

This is of course what we call the Exodus story—the story of God providing a way when people thought there was no way, the story of a God not only granting salvation and life, but granting it abundantly.  It is THE story of the Old Testament.  It is the one story of the Old Testament that best describes how our God works in this world.  There is something built right into the very nature of God to create something very good out of something very bad, and abundantly so.

It should not surprise us then that the Exodus story of the Old Testament directly corresponds with the THE story of the New Testament—the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  The story of God making a way, when there was no way, the story of God not only granting life, but granting it abundantly, the story in the New Testament that best describes how our God works in this world—creating and recreating, transforming and resurrecting.    

When wine gives out at a party, God not only turns water into a little bit of wine for one or two people.  God makes 180 gallons of wine for everyone.  When night is falling on a hungry multitude, God not only feeds 5,000 people, God feeds 5,000 people with an abundance left over.  When angry, sinful people crucified Jesus, God not only resurrected him to reign in heaven.  No, God didn’t stop there.  God resurrected him and gave him back to the very same people who killed him.  And promises that one day, they too will be resurrected.

And the good news is that this New Testament story, this story of resurrection, which in a way is a culmination of the great Exodus story, is not just a story or an event in history to remember, and it is not merely an event in our future we look forward to, it is an event to be lived in the present.  In 1 Peter we read, that God has given us a new birth, we have been baptized into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.   

During this week’s winter storm, the second storm to cripple the South in four weeks, I was listening to the radio as people were calling in reporting damage, snow or ice accumulations, and sharing how they were coping. I don’t believe I will ever forget one woman who called in from South Carolina.  She said that a tree came down on her carport crushing her car and her husband’s truck.  And another tree is leaning on the back of the house.  She said, “We made a small pathway outside the back door so we can get outside.” 

The man on the radio asked her, “Do you have any place to go?  Can you go over to a friend or relative’s house?”

She said, “No, but we’re fine.  We have each other and the Lord is good.  I don’t have any power.  But thankfully my house has got a gas stove. And we have wood for the fireplace.  And I just made us a big ol’ pot of chicken ‘n dumplin’s!”

That is when the man on the radio said, “That’s one thing about us Southerners.  Our power can be knocked out.  Our cars destroyed.  Trees on the house.  Can’t get out the front door.  But, one thing’s for sure, we’re going to eat and we’re going to eat good!”

I laughed.  For I had been through enough hurricanes to know that was true.  I thought, “Yes, there’s probably no other place in a world where people go through a natural disaster and gain weight!”  However, I believe that radio jockey missed something else that was in that woman’s voice.

When that woman said, “The Lord is good.”  She was not referring to God being good raising Jesus from the dead in the past.  And she was not looking forward to one day in the future God being good and resurrecting her. She was talking about God being good in the present. In the midst of her storm, she had found a way when there was no way. She was taking a bad situation and making something very good come from it. She was living the hope of the resurrection, today.

This is especially good news for many of us.  For the snow and ice this week are just the least of our troubles.  We face so many storms. Crime seems be up as just in the past weeks we have seen both Southern Bank and Zippy’s robbed. And then there are the storms of sickness, cancer, heart disease, Parkinson’s disease, diabetes, auto-immune diseases—it’s everywhere we turn.  Someone we love is either diagnosed with something dreadful, or someone we love passes away.

And, at the ends of ropes, we feel like we cannot take another step. We cannot go any further. The good news is, that we don’t have to. God will fight for us right now, here in the present, and will make a way when it seems to be no way. God is here now, resurrecting and recreating and restoring filling us with the hope that although we cannot go back to the good old days, before the storm, before the diagnoses, before the accident, we can go forward with God into good new days.

 

Another man called into the radio station from Georgia this week to report that the sun was starting to peak through the clouds. And then he said, “And would you believe that there are two great big rainbows in the sky over the field behind my house!”

The radio jockey acted surprised, “really?” he said, “Two rainbows? How about that!”

But, from what we know about our God, none of us should have been surprised. Because that is just the way our God works.  God never stops at just one rainbow.

Benji, Anna, Johnathan and Jenny, your baptisms this morning, you rising up out of the water symbolize that no matter what storms come your way, you will always rise up. For God is going to be there, not to just remind you of something God did in the past–resurrecting Jesus, or something God is going to do in the future–resurrecting you.  God is going to be with you helping you live the resurrection in the present.  In the middle of your storm, there will always be a rainbow, and there is a good chance there may even be more than one.  

Left-Handed Power

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Farmville Enterprise, Short ArticlesLeave a comment

sunset-road-iii-hdr-joelht-deviantart_405797

I recently had a conversation with someone who firmly believes God uses God’s power to either cause or avoid preventing tragedies in life in order to accomplish some divine purpose. The God who rules with “thunder in his footsteps” and “lightening in his fist,” as the song goes, will rain down cancer, heart disease, automobile accidents, hurricanes and earthquakes to accomplish the divine purpose.

Thus, when a school teacher and mother of two runs her car off the road and is tragically killed, people say: “God has God’s reasons.”

For me, this represents a gross misunderstanding of the power of God revealed through Jesus.

One day, a little boy and a father who were driving down the road admiring a beautiful sunset. The father said to son, “And to think, God created all of this just for us to enjoy.”

The little boy responded, “And to think, God did it all with God’s left hand.”

Puzzled, the father asked: “What do you mean, son? Where did you hear that?”

“Well, the little boy responded, “God had to use God’s left hand, because my Sunday School teacher told me that in heaven Jesus was sitting on God’s right hand.”

As they say, out of the mouth of babes.

The truth is, we have allowed the world to define “power” for us, instead of allowing Jesus to define “power” for us.

To the world, “power” means controlling.  Power means dominating.  Power means taking. Power means ruling.  Power means imposing.

However, the power of God as revealed through Jesus Christ is the exact opposite.  God has what the late theologian Arthur McGill called a “peculiar” kind of power.  You could call it a “left-handed power.”  It is a power of self-expending, self-giving love.

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

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

Not a power that imposes, but a power that loves.

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, his power of service whereby the poor are fed, the sinful are forgiven, the weak are strengthened, and the dying are made alive (See Reigning from the Cross).

Thus, the moment the school teacher in the accident took her last breath, God did not take her. The best way to explain it is that during that moment, God came and God gave. God came, and in a most powerful way, gave her the very best gift that God has to give, the gift of God’s holy self. God came and gave God’s self completely and eternally to her.

Thanks be to God.

A Runner’s Prayer

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short Articles1 Comment

MARTATHON-1

Someone recently asked me how she should pray for me this weekend during the marathon.

She even had the audacity to ask: “Do you want me to pray that you win the race?” 

First of all, let’s get something straight. The winner of the marathon will have time to take a shower, eat some brunch, update their facebook status, and take a nap before I cross the finish line!

Then she asked, “Or do you want me to pray that you don’t get injured and are just able to finish the race?”

Now, that is a better prayer.

However, I do not believe it is the best prayer.

The truth is that I ought to be grateful that I have the health and the ability to risk injury.

The real miracle on Saturday will not be that I finish the race, but that I have the opportunity to start the race.

So if you want to pray for me this weekend, don’t pray for my legs.

Instead, pray for my eyes.

Pray that my eyes may see the sheer grace of this mystery we call life, this miracle we call the world.

Pray that my eyes may see that all that I have and all that I am is an unearned and undeserved gift of God’s amazing grace.

And then, maybe, having seen the sheer grace and absolute glory of it all—the gift of my great friends, the gift of my wonderful family, the gift of my inexplicable life—I will not only run the full marathon this Saturday, but I will dance the 26.2!

Even if it takes all day.

Light It Up!

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

beatitudes-1

Matthew 5:1-20

I believe one of the reasons that some Southerners yearn to see some snow, at least once a year, is because of the sheer magic of it. In an article for the Farmville Enterprise I quoted J.B. Priestly: “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?”

Then I wrote:

One day Stantonsburg Road was littered with empty Natural Light cans, leftover trash from Bojangles and McDonalds, and the carcass of a possum or two. The next day it was a majestic, untarnished pathway through a winter wonderland.

One day 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. The next day it was glistening white, void of a single blemish.

One day the flaws and faults of this fragmented world were all too apparent. The next day everything seemed to be forgiven, blanketed by grace. And although the world was still a very dangerous place to drive and to even walk, the hopeful wonder and potential beauty of the world was obvious (from: Snowflakes from Heaven).

Snow in the South is like a fairytale. But a few days later, the sun comes out, the rains fall, and it quickly melts away bringing us back to the real world, where we see the harsh, uncovered reality of it all. And the winter wonderland that once was seems to be a distant magical dream.

Have you ever considered that we might have it all backwards?

What if the fairytale is the littered highways and the brown lawns with ugly winter weeds?

What if the magical dream is the uncovered, unforgiven, graceless, and fragmented existence?

What if reality is the winter wonderland? What if reality is the world that has been blanketed by grace? What if reality is the world where hopeful wonder and potential beauty always exist?

I know what you are thinking…“Oh my goodness! Somebody call 911 ‘cause the preacher has lost his mind!”

But what if I have not lost my mind, and in fact, right now, my mind is as sane and as sharp as it has ever been?

I have said before that Jesus spoke less about sin and more about our inability to see. Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see…” (John 9:39).  He continues throughout the gospels:

Do you have eyes and fail to see (Mark 8:18)? Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye (Matthew 7:3)?  Blessed are the eyes that see what you see (Luke 10:23)! Prophets and kings desired to see what you see but did not see it (Luke 10:24)!

Over and over, Jesus talked about importance of seeing something that most have difficulty seeing. I believe this is what Jesus meant when he said that he came not to abolish the law, but to fulfill it (Matthew 5:17). Not to get rid of it, but to bring it back into focus, to help us to truly see the purpose within it.

This is why I believe he said: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

To see anything, light is needed; thus, one of the main purposes of Jesus is enabling people to see, to see the real world, to see reality.

And what is reality? What is it that we have so much trouble seeing? What is it that God wants us to see?

I believe the answer is in Jesus’ first recorded sermon. Jesus went up on a mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him, and taught them, saying:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:3).

God favors the “poor in spirit.” Not the religious, the devout, the pious or even the spiritual. Not the pastors, the elders and the deacons, not even the church member who serves in the soup kitchen. No, God favors the ones who have come to be served at the soup kitchen. They are not the ones with something to give. They are the ones with nothing to give. Jesus says the ones who are blessed, the ones who are blessed by God are those who, spiritually speaking, are completely destitute and needy. Their very spirits have been broken. And notice that Jesus uses the present tense. Not will be blessed. Not might be favored. They are, right now, right here, blessed. This is reality. And their future is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4).

God favors the mourners. Not the faithful who can understand what the Apostle Paul was talking about when he said we should “give thanks in all circumstances” (I Thessalonians 5:18), or “rejoice even in the midst of suffering” (Romans 5:3-10), but the ones who are not just complaining about the pain in their life, but they actually in mourning over that pain. They look at who they are, and who they have become, and they grieve. They look in the mirror in utter despair, and Jesus calls them blessed and promises comfort.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth (Matthew 5:5).

The meek, the gentle, the shy and the timid are favored. Not the strong. Not the ones with the personalities or the confidence to overcome all sorts of adversity and somehow still make it to the top. Blessed are the ones who have never conquered anything, not even their own fears. It is the weak, says Jesus, not the strong, who survive and inherit the earth.  

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled (Matthew 5:6).

Not the ones who are righteous, but the ones on whose behalf the prophet Amos preached: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:24). These are the ones who have been unjustly judged, mistreated, shunned and bullied by society, even by communities of faith. They have suffered grave injustices because of their race, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, mental and physical ability, socioeconomic level and political or theological background. They have been beaten up so badly by the world that they hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness, like a wanderer lost in a hot desert thirsts for water. Jesus says that they are blessed and they are favored and they are the ones who will not only be satisfied, but will be filled, their cups overflowing.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy (Matthew 5:7).

Not the perfect and the proud, the boastful and the arrogant. But God favors the ones who are fully aware of their imperfections, the ones who have made mistakes, terrible mistakes. Thus, when they encounter others who are also suffering from unthinkable errors in judgment, they have mercy and compassion, and in their hearts, there is always room for forgiveness. They give mercy, because they need mercy for themselves. And because they are favored by God, they will receive it.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God (Matthew 5:8).

Not the pure, but the “pure in heart.” Not the ones who, on the outside, appear to be straight and narrow, the ones who seem to have it all together, whose characters appear to be flawless. No, God favors the ones viewed by the world as abominations. We are reminded of the words of 1 Samuel “for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). God will see the hopeful wonder and the potential beauty of who they are and they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God (Matthew 5:9).

Not the ones who have necessarily found peace for themselves. But the tormented, disturbed and restless, who, because they are so continuously in chaos, seek to make peace whenever and wherever they can. Blessed are those who are without stability, but seek it, because they will find a home, a place of security, rest and a peace that is beyond all understanding, within the family of God.[i]

This, Jesus pronounces, is not a prescription of how things should be or how things could be. Jesus asserts that this is how things are! This is not some enchanted dream or magical fairytale. This is reality. This is truth. And Jesus announces: “I have come as light, as the Light of the World, to help you see it, to give all who are blind to it, sight to really see it as it really is.”

And not only that, Jesus says, you, who seek to follow me, you, who seek do the things that I do, go to the places that I go, you, who want to be my disciples, are also the Lights of the World. And you are called not to hide your light, but to shine your light on what is reality, what is true, so all may see it the way God sees it.

And we are to light it up in the same manner Jesus lit it up.

In Matthew 4 we read after James and John, Peter and Andrew left their fishing nets to follow Jesus, they proclaimed “…the good newsof the kingdom by curing every disease and every sickness among the people…those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them” (Matthew 4:23-24).

We are to shine our lights by lifting up, accepting and caring for all people, especially those the world leaves behind. We are to light it up by loving, accepting, and caring for the least among us: the poor, the weak, those who need mercy, the marginalized who hunger and thirst for justice, the obviously flawed but pure in heart, and the troubled who yearn for peace.

Will we look like fools? You bet. Will people say that the way we accept and love and affirm others is socially and even theologically unacceptable? It’s likely. Will we be demeaned and even persecuted by others in the community, even other churches? Perhaps.

But here is the good news: Jesus also said,

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you [notice the change in person] when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you (Matthew 5:10-11).

So let the rest of the world live in their enchanted, dreamlike, fairytale existence where the rich, the prosperous, the powerful and the strong are blessed and favored by God.

And let us commit ourselves to living in reality, in the world created by our gracious God, in the world that Jesus, the Light of the World, came to help us see, in the world where the Holy Spirit reveals the hopeful wonder and potential beauty in all things and in all people, in the world that has indeed been blanketed by grace, like a 4-inch snowfall in the South.

And let us, as lights of this world, for the sake of this world, keep lighting it up, until the day comes when the eyes of all are finally fully opened. Amen.

[i] Words on the Beatitudes were inspired by Frederick Buechner. Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized (New York: Harper Collins, 1988), 18.           

 

COMMISSIONING AND BENEDICTION

Go now into the world and light it up!

So the poor will know that they are blessed.

Light it up!

So that the weak will know that they are favored.

Light it up!

So that those who ache for justice will be satisfied.

Light it up!

So that the obviously flawed but pure in heart will see God.

Light it up!

So that those you yearn for peace will know security as God’s beloved children.

Light it up!

Knowing that if you are persecuted, yours is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Light it up!

Until the day comes when the eyes of all are finally fully open, and all may know love of God, the grace of Jesus Christ and the communion of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

 

Actin’ a Fool

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment
Thomas Campbell, Alexander Campbell and Barton Stone
Thomas Campbell, Alexander Campbell and Barton Stone

1 Corinthians 1:18-31 NRSV

As some of you know, I am taking an online class on the history of our denomination. It has been exciting to read how the forbearers of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) stirred up thousands of people in the late 18th and early 19th centuries with their writings and sermons.  Some people estimate that when Barton Stone held his revival at Cane Ridge, Kentucky in 1801, nearly 30,000 people showed up—10% of the entire population of Kentucky at the time. [i]

What were these folks preaching that started a movement that would later become one of the largest denominations in North America?

They simply had the audacity to preach messages that called for a return to taking the message of the Bible seriously. They denounced all man-made creeds and confessions and committed themselves to following Jesus at all costs. And in so doing they were continually bucking the system, going against the doctrinal grains of the Church.

They preached against slavery, preached for the inclusion of all Christians at the communion table, stood against the power of the clergy over the laity, the power of Bishops over the clergy and anything that did not jive with Jesus. And for doing so, many were excommunicated, labeled heretics, radicals and fools. In fact, The Fool of God is the title of a novel based on the life of our forebear Alexander Campbell.[ii]  

But here’s the thing, people responded to these fools. And by 1960, the movement they started had grown into a denomination with 1.6 million members.

Now here’s some troubling news. In 2012 we only had 625,000 members. Since 1960 our denomination has had a 60% decline in membership.[iii]

There are many complex reasons for this decline. However, this morning, I want to suggest what I believe is at least one of the reasons, and here it is: We stopped actin’ a fool.

In fact, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) has been labeled by many as “a moderate, mainline, mainstream protestant denomination in North America.”[iv] Did you hear that: moderate, mainline, mainstream! 

Barton Stone, Thomas and Alexander Campbell would roll over in their graves!

token

While Alexander Campbell was studying at the University of Glasgow in Scotland, the time had come for communion at his Presbyterian church. Communion was only observed a couple of times a year, so it was a pretty big deal. His church had a custom, like many Presbyterian churches of that day, to pass out these “communion tokens.” You would line up, present yourself to the minister. If the minister believed that you were worthy that day to participate in communion, he would hand you a token, a little coin. This was your ticket to the table. When you arrived at the table, you would present your coin, and then and only then, could you receive communion. If the minister did not think you were worthy, he would not give you a token, and thus, no communion for you. It also implied there may be no heaven for you either!

With his communion token in hand, Alexander Campbell approached the communion table. When he was handed the plate where he was to place his token, it is said that Campbell, “threw” the coin onto the plate, publically refused the bread and the wine, and then walked out of the sanctuary as a “free man” in Christ.[v]

Now, does that sound mainstream, mainline and moderate to you?  

Alexander Campbell was anything but a mainstream Christian. He would say that he was an upstream Christian, swimming like a salmon against the mainstream currents of his day. And many said he acted a fool.

This is what I believe we must regain as a church. We need more people like Alexander Campbell who are willing to humbly walk with Jesus, kindly love all people and do the justice of Jesus even if it makes them look foolish.

The Apostle Paul very clearly and outrageously writes:  “The way of the cross is foolishness” to the world.  We proclaim “Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles.” “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

But this is a hard message for us to get. Because there is a part of all of us that does not want to look foolish. When I was trying to help a family at Christmas, someone asked me, “Are you sure they are a deserving family?” She didn’t want me to do anything foolish.  And it did make me pause, because I didn’t want to do anything foolish either.

A recent survey by Bill McKibben reveals that three-quarters of Americans believe the Bible teaches that “God helps those who help themselves.”[vi]  However, that statement is from deist Ben Franklin; not the Bible.[vii] “God helps those who help themselves” is in fact one of the most unbiblical ideas. It is Jesus who made the dramatic counter assertion: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  But, deep down we prefer Ben Franklin don’t we?  Doesn’t sound so foolish.

There is a large part within all of us that yearns to be moderate, mainline and mainstream. However, when we stop actin’ the fool in the eyes of the world, I believe we stop being Christian, we cease being disciples.

Søren Kierkegaard, the great Danish theologian, writes: “Christianity has taken a giant stride into the absurd. Remove from Christianity its ability to shock and it is altogether destroyed. It then becomes a tiny superficial thing, capable neither of inflicting deep wounds nor of healing them. It’s when the absurd starts to sound reasonable that we should begin to worry.” He goes on to name a few of Jesus’ shocking and absurd assertions: “Blessed are the meek; love your enemies; go and sell all you have and give it to the poor.”[viii]

And you know the others: “forgive seventy times seven, turn the other cheek; someone takes your coat, offer them your shirt, pray for those who persecute you; blessed are the poor; visit the imprisoned; to save your life, you must lose your life, take up your cross and follow me.”

And then there is the entire foolish story: The foundation of his arrival was laid by a murderer with a speech impediment and a bad temper named Moses; his advent was promised by prophets who did not deserve to be prophets; he was born to ordinary peasants in a cattle stall and laid in a feeding troth; worshipped by loathsome shepherds; his family on the run in Egypt like illegal immigrants; a triumphant ride into Jerusalem to liberate the world on the back of a donkey—and then there is the most foolish part of it all—the arrest, the trial, the desertion of the his friends, the cross and those shocking words: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Then to add audacity on top of audacity, foolishness on top of foolishness, Jesus is resurrected by God and given right back to the very ones who nailed him to a tree.

There is nothing moderate, mainline or mainstream about this thing we call ‘Christianity,’ this thing we call ‘church.’ It is all so radical, so reckless, so shocking, so undeserving, so unconditional and so inclusive. It is a love that is so socially unacceptable, that it can only be described as foolish.

Henri Nouwen was a priest and brilliant teacher at places like Harvard and Yale. However, wanting to truly follow Jesus before he died, many say that he did something absolutely foolish. He left the Ivy League to spend the last decade of his life serving as a chaplain within a community of people with severe emotional, mental and physical disabilities.

L'Arche Community
L’Arche Community in Edmonton

In one of his many books, Nouwen tells a story about Trevor, a man in that community who was dealing with such severe mental and emotional challenges that he had to be sent to a psychiatric facility for an evaluation. One day Henri wanted to visit him, so he called the hospital and arranged for a visit.

When those who were in authority found out that it was Henri Nouwen, the renowned author and teacher from Yale and Harvard who was coming, they asked if they could have lunch with him in the Golden Room—a special meeting room at the facility. They would also invite doctors and other clergy to the special luncheon. Nouwen agreed.

When he arrived, they took him to the Golden Room, but Trevor was nowhere to be seen. Troubled, he asked about Trevor’s whereabouts.

“Oh,” said an administrator, “Trevor cannot come to lunch. Patients and staff are not allowed to have lunch together. Besides, no patient has ever had lunch in the Golden Room.”

Henri Nouwen with another resident
Henri Nouwen with Linda Slinger

By nature, Henri was not a confrontational person. He was very meek and gentle—much unlike Alexander Campbell—but so like him in many ways. Being guided by the Spirit, here was the thought that came to his mind: “Include Trevor.” Knowing that community is about inclusion, Henri thought: “Trevor ought to be here.”  So, Henri swallowed hard, turned to the administrator and said, “But the whole purpose of my coming was to have lunch with Trevor. If Trevor is not allowed to attend the lunch, I will not attend either.”

The thought of missing an opportunity for lunch with the great Henri Nouwen was too much, so they quickly found a way for Trevor to attend. When they all gathered together, something interesting happened. At one point during the lunch, Henri was talking to the person to his right and didn’t notice that Trevor had stood up and lifted his glass of Coca-Cola.

“A toast. I will now offer a toast,” Trevor said to the group.

Everybody in the room got nervous. What in the world was he going to say?

Then Trevor, this deeply challenged man in a room full of PhDs and esteemed clergy, started to sing, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass. If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass…”

No one knew what to do. It was awkward. Here was a man with a level of challenge and brokenness they could not begin to understand, yet he was beaming. He was thrilled to be there. So they started to sing. Softly at first and then louder and louder until all of the doctors and clergymen and Henri Nouwen were practically shouting, “If you’re happy and you know it, raise your glass.”

Henri went on to give a talk at the luncheon, but the moment everyone remembered, the moment God spoke most clearly, was through the person they all would have said was the least likely to speak for God.[ix]

This is what the entire Bible is all about. This is what the cross, the gospel and our faith is all about. God uses the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.

This morning, after the hymn of commitment, we are going to install our officers that you have elected for 2014. We are going to ask them to commit themselves to following Jesus. And as Frederick Buechner writes: “In terms of human wisdom, Jesus was a perfect fool. And if you think you can follow him without making something like the same kind of fool of yourself, you are laboring not under the cross, but a delusion.”[x] So we are going to ask them, in the name of First Christian Church, in the name of God, to act a fool, to shock this community with the grace of God revealed in the life, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord.  And then we are going to promise them our support which makes us just as foolish.

Are you ready? I hope you are. If this church is to continue to grow and thrive in this community, continue to make a difference, continue to be the church God is calling us to be, I pray you are.

[i] Duane Cummins, The Disciples: A Struggle for Reformation (St. Louis: Chalice Press), 2009.

[ii] Louis Cochran, Published October 18th 2002 by Wipf & Stock Pub 

[vi] Bill McKibben, “The Christian Paradox,” Harpers Magazine, July 7, 2005.

[vii] Deism is a religious and philosophical belief that a supreme natural God exists and created the physical universe, and that religious truths can be arrived at by the application of reason and observation of the natural world.  Deists generally reject the notion of supernatural revelation as a basis of truth or religious teaching.

[ix] John Ortberg, in the sermon, “Guide.” Preachingtoday.com.

[x]Frederick Buechner, as quoted by Joe Roos, Sojourners Magazine, “The Foolishness of the Cross,” Aug. 2007.

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.