Tag: mercy

Disciples Are on the Side of Witches

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Luke 18:9-14

You know, it’s a strange thing to be called unholy for trying to love like Jesus. I believe I shared that time with you when I was called “a demon” in a resturant in Fort Smith, Arkansas.

This stranger who disapproved of the sexuality of the person with whom I just finished sharing a meal, approached me as I was leaving with a question: “You do know what the law says about her don’t you?” I said, “Arkansas law?” He said, “No, God’s law.”

I said, “Well, Jesus said that the greatest law is to love our neighbors as ourselves.”

He walked away, scribbled something on his receipt and handed it to the waiter who then showed it to me: ‘Beware, he’s a demon in disguise.’”

It would be interesting to know how many people drive by our church, see the Pride flag, and decide they already know who we are:

“That’s the liberal church.” “That’s the church that’ll let anybody in.” “That’s the church that doesn’t believe the Bible.”

And I smile. Because that’s exactly what they said about Jesus!

The truth is: if you’re going to follow the one who touched lepers, elevated the status of women, proclaimed that the differently sexual were born that way, welcomed tax collectors, and ate and drank with sinners, you’re bound to get called some names. You’ll be accused of going too far, being too soft, loving too much. And you’ll be demonized for it.

There are probably some in this town who suspect that what we disciples do inside these walls during this hour is akin to some kind of witchcraft. So, just in case they’ve tuned into our YouTube channel to check out what demonic spells this false prophet is brewin’ up, to see what kind of voodoo we do, on this Sunday before Halloween, I want to make what may sound like a shocking confession:

Disciples stand firmly on the side of witches.

Now that I have their attention, maybe they’ll stick around to hear this story that Jesus told.

Two men went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, religious, respected, and righteous. The other was a tax collector, despised, and distrusted, and demeaned.

The Pharisee stood tall and prayed proudly: “Thank God I’m not like other people—thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like that tax collector over there.”

Meanwhile, the tax collector stood far off, head bowed, hand to his chest, praying, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

And Jesus said, “The tax collector went home justified, rather than the Pharisee.”

The Pharisee had the problem that many in the church still have today. The Pharisee defined his holiness by “those people” he put down. He could only feel righteous if someone else was condemned. And that’s exactly how all witch hunts begin, with a prayer that says, “Thank God I’m not like them.”

In 1692, this was the prayer that was whispered and shouted all over Salem, Massachusetts. Fear was in the air: fear of women who had some power, women who refused to be submissive and quiet; fear of the patriarchy losing control. Preachers thundered from their pulpits. Neighbors accused neighbors. Hysteria spread. And before it was over, 200 people were accused of witchcraft, 30 were convicted, and 19 were hanged, mostly women.

But the Salem Witch Trials were never about witches. It was about a religion poisoned by fear. It was about a faith so fragile, so shallow, that it needed scapegoats to survive. It was about a church that was so desperate to justify their own purity that it demonized and destroyed the children of God. The Puritans thought they were defending God’s honor, but they were really defending their own control.

The bad news is that this spirit didn’t die in 1692, as every generation has had its witch hunts. Every age has Pharisees who pray, “Thank God we’re not like them.”

We saw it on the ships carrying enslaved Africans in chains across the Atlantic, justified by a twisted theology that said dark-skinned bodies were less human.

We saw it in Nazi Germany, where millions of Jewish people were branded evil and exterminated in the name of “purity.”

We saw in the McCarthy hearings, when careers and lives were ruined because someone was accused of being “un-American.”

We saw it in the Jim Crow South, where people went to church on Sunday morning and attended a lynching in that evening.

We saw it after 9-11 when all Muslims were blamed for the sins of extremists.

And we see it today whenever our LGBTQ siblings are called “abominations,” when trans youth are targeted by hateful politics, when poor people are labeled “parasites,” when immigrants are demonized as “invaders,” and whenever women are made to feel inferior to men.

We see it when vanity is prioritized over humanity, as the powerful dismiss the hungry while they destroy the East Wing of the White House to build a golden ballroom.

Every witch hunt begins the same way: with fear dressed up as faith and cruelty justified as conviction. Pure evil, the worst evil in history has always been born when people believed that others were less than.

And if you dare speak out against such evil, the ones who demonize the witch will demonize you. But as Disciples, that’s what we have been called to do, because we follow the One who always exposed the evil spirit of fear for what it is.

When Jesus sat down with tax collectors, he was breaking the spell of self-righteousness. When he healed the lepers, he was undoing centuries of religious purity laws. When he talked with the Samaritan woman at the well, he was crossing every line of gender, race, and religion. When he liberated those the people believed to be possessed, he was calling out systemic oppression.

And for that, they said he was possessed. They labeled him a heretic. They called him a glutton, a drunkard, and “a friend of sinners”—all just another way of calling him a witch.

So yes, disciples are on the side of witches. We stand firmly on the side of the accused, the condemned, and the cast out. Because that’s where Jesus stands, and that where love always leads us.

The Radical Welcome we practice here at First Christian Church should never be mistaken for southern hospitality or polite piety. Our welcome is protest. It’s the refusal to let fear dictate who belongs and who doesn’t belong at God’s table. Every time we open our doors to someone the world has rejected, we’re breaking the spell of Salem all over again. Every time we affirm the dignity of someone who’s been told they are less than, we’re undoing the curse of dehumanization.

And that always makes some people uncomfortable. It made the Pharisees uncomfortable. It made the Puritans uncomfortable. And makes all those today whose faith has been hijacked by a spirit of fear uncomfortable.

But that’s okay. Because comfort has never been the goal of the gospel. Transformation is. The church’s mission has never been to police the gates of heaven but to tear down the walls that keep anyone from seeing how wide the gates really are.

That’s the Revolutionary love we have been called to practice. It’s a love that doesn’t just include but transforms. It’s a love that refuses to see anyone as “less than,” not even those who demonize us.

It was this Revolutionary love that propelled Jesus to non-violently pick up and carry a cross while praying for the forgiveness of those who were forcing him to carry it.

It’s what led Dr. King to face dogs and firehoses without surrendering to hate.

It’s what gave Fannie Lou Hamer the courage to keep singing freedom songs after she was beaten in a Mississippi jail.

It’s what led Desmond Tutu to preach forgiveness in a nation soaked in blood.

Revolutionary love is defiant. Revolutionary love stands up to evil and says, “You will not make me hate you.”

It stands up to even those in power whose hearts seem hardened, whose empathy seems long gone, and whose ambition has blinded them to mercy, and says, “I still believe in your humanity.”

That’s what it means to be a disciple of Jesus in a witch-hunting world. Not to join the crowd shouting, “Crucify him,” but to hang beside the condemned and whisper: “You are not alone. Look, I’m on your side. I will be with you, and you will be with me, forever.”

So, when people call us “that church,” the one with the flag, the one that welcomes everyone, the one that’s too political, too affirming, too much, I say, “praise God!”

Because that means we’re standing where Jesus stood. That means we’re loving in ways that make the stokers of fear and the sowers of division nervous. That means we’re living the kind of gospel that still turns the world upside down!

Yes, we could save ourselves from some ridicule if we took down our flag, but our calling is not to just to be saved. Our calling is to be faithful. Our calling is to follow Jesus by standing with those accused of being “too different” or “too much.”

Because disciples are not on the side of those who judge and condemn. We’re on the side of the witches. We’re on the side of the enslaved, the lynched, the silenced, the scapegoated, the outcast, and the crucified. We’re on the side of those who have been demonized by sick religion and dismissed by worldly power. And we stand there not out of pity, but in solidarity, and we know the God of mercy stands there too.

The kingdom Jesus preached is not built by purity or perfection. It’s built by mercy and mutuality. It’s built by people humble enough to pray, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” and brave enough to extend that same mercy to others. The world doesn’t need more temples filled with Pharisees. It needs more churches filled with recovering witch hunters who’ve laid down their sticks and stones to pick up some empathy and compassion.

The world doesn’t need more purity tests. It needs more people who understand that holiness is found in how we treat the most despised among us.

Because I’ve lived long enough to see the pattern. I know the history. It’s never the ones who love too much who do the evil in this world. It’s always the ones who forget that love is the whole point.

So, let the world accuse us of loving too much. Because that’s how we’ll know we’re getting close to the heart of Jesus. Let them call us names. That’s how we’ll know we’re walking in his way.

When we stand the side of the witches, on the side of the accused, the excluded, the erased, we know we’re on the side of the God who never stops expanding the circle.

So, let them drive by our church and call us “unholy” or “too much.”

Let them demonize us.

But we’re going to keep loving.
We’re going to keep welcoming.

We’re going to keep conjuring the Holy Ghost and following the way of Jesus.

That means we’ll never stop proclaiming the mercy that humbles the proud and lifts up the lowly.

Because we Disciples believe the Kingdom of God is coming near, and the radical welcome and revolutionary love of Jesus is leading the way.

Amen.

Time to Be Prodigally Prophetic

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

 

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 NRSV

One day, Jesus is confronted by some grumbling Scribes and Pharisees: “Jesus, why do we keep hearing these stories about you hanging out in some sketchy parts of town? We hear these rumors about you eating and drinking with those people, the kind of people everyone knows are sinners!”

 “And you claim to be a man of God!”

“Rabbi, if you are a Rabbi, let me tell you something. Our God is an awesome God who will punish not only the sinner, but the sinner’s children and grandchildren. God will strike you down with a lighten bolt, and if not that, send a cancer, a heart attack or maybe a stroke. And, Jesus, you better watch out, because if you get too many sinners in one place, too many sinners at one bar or pub, or in one city or in one nation, God might send a tornado or an earthquake, and take out everyone!”

When Jesus is confronted by these religious people with a bad and violent theology, he responds as he usually does—by telling a story. Here, he tells three stories—one about a lost sheep, another about a lost coin and another about a lost boy. The parable of the lost boy has been commonly referred to as the “Parable of the Prodigal Son” for some pretty good reasons.

Growing up in church, my home pastor would often use the dictionary when he came to a point like this in his sermon. I think he defined a word for us every Sunday!  He would say, “Now, Webster defines ‘prodigal’ as…”  In that spirit, but with a 21st century twist, allow me to do the same: Now, Google defines “prodigal” as…

  1. wastefully or recklessly extravagant
  2. giving or yielding profusely; lavish
  3. lavishly abundant; profuse
  4. a person who spends, or has spent, his or her money or substance with wasteful extravagance.

The youngest son had the gall to demand his inheritance so he could leave home.  Demanding his inheritance meant that he had come to this point in his life where he did not mind regarding his father as being dead and buried. Isn’t that nice?

Then the surprising part. The father just hands it over. Then, we are told that the boy ventures out into a wild and “distant country,” I guess like West Virginia, where he wasted every red cent whooping it up—thus, the designation “prodigal”— reckless, lavish, wasteful, extravagant.

When the boy ran out of money, there was a great famine in the land. That was when the prodigal son found a job feeding pigs, and things got so bad, the boy thought about eating and drinking with the pigs!

“Oh, of course there is a famine,” say the religious leaders with their bad and violent theology! “That is what we are trying to tell you!  A famine! That is brilliant!  Oooh. God is soooooo good. I bet that boy starves to death! Or at least gets a bad case of salmonella from eating with the pigs. And serves him right! A just punishment for a prodigal—one who had everything only to recklessly waste everything. Death from lack! Death from scarcity! What wonderful irony. How cool is God?”

 Jesus continues… “the boy decides to go back to the father and beg forgiveness…”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” the religious leaders howl, laughing at such a ridiculous scenario!

However, we know the rest of the story…

“And when he was “a long way off,” the father saw him and ran and embraced him. Think about this. How do you suppose this father saw him “a long way off?” Because the father had been waiting, looking down the road every day for the boy to return.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are sitting on the front porch with my brother and my sister, waiting and watching for Daddy to come home from work. We would position ourselves on the porch at just the right angle so if we squinted and strained hard enough, we could see through our dogwood trees and our neighbors’ crepe myrtles to get a glimpse of Daddy’s Green Ford LTD from a half a mile away. Then we would be ready to run out into the yard to pounce on Daddy as soon as he opened the car door to welcome him home.  As soon as he got out of the car I would jump on his back, while my sister and brother would grab both his legs. On a good day, if we could muster just enough leverage, Daddy would fall into the grass where we would lavish him with hugs and kisses like three little puppy dogs while he nearly tickled us to death. Mama, used to get on us. She’d remind us how tired Daddy was from working all day, and how one day when he drove up and saw us running and screaming towards the driveway, he was going to just keep going down the road!

I think mama was just jealous.

Every day, this father sat on his front porch, gazing down the road, watching and waiting, hoping and praying, grieving for his boy to return home. And while the boy was still a long way off, when through the fig and the olive trees the father could just make out his silhouette coming doing the road, the father got up and started running to meet his child, and throwing his arms around him, he began kissing him profusely.

I wonder how long the father waited for his son’s homecoming.  I wonder why the father waited. Can’t you just hear his concerned friends and neighbors, or maybe even his pastor telling him: “Old man, it’s time for you to move on. You’ve gotta get past this.  You’ve gotta face the facts. He’s not coming back. It’ time to get over it. It’s time to move on. Concentrate on your older boy who’s still here with you.”  But every day, the father still waited and watched and hoped and prayed and grieved.

 And he really didn’t have any evidence that his son was still alive. A young kid with a pocket full of cash, first time away from home, traveling alone—he was an easy target to any would-be thieves and murderers. Remember the story of the Good Samaritan? Still, the father patiently, and you might say…recklessly… waited. Every day, he kept looking down the road in front of his house. Straining to see, hoping and praying to see, his son coming home.

Then the great reunion and the biggest, most extravagant homecoming party anyone has ever heard of! The sandals, the ring, the robe, the best one! The calf, the fattest one! Nothing held back for this son who everyone thought was dead but now is alive, was lost and now is found.

And the religious leaders are seething, but now, with the older son. Listen how the older son talks about his brother: “How can you do this for ‘this son of yours?’ “How can you do this, not for ‘my brother,’ but for this one who’s, as far as I am concerned, a stranger, a foreigner, from some distant country?”

Then, it occurs to us.

We thought this was a story of a prodigal son, but it’s really a story of a prodigal father. It is a story of a parent’s love that is “reckless,” “profuse.” “extravagant,” and “excessive.”

When the boy wanted to leave home, the father recklessly gave him his inheritance. While the boy was gone out into the far country, his friends and neighbors would say that the father recklessly waited. And when the boy at last returned, the father recklessly threw an extravagant party. The father loved his son prodigally when he left home, he loved him prodigally while he was away from home, and he loved him prodigally when he returned home.

The good news is that is how our God loves each one of us.  It’s the exact opposite of violence. Our God is a God who, when it comes to love, holds nothing back. God’s love for us is extravagant, excessive, relentless, even reckless. The point of the story is that God’s love for us is profusely prodigal.

This is why we should never apologize for loving others in a way that the conservative religious culture would characterize as “liberal” or “radical.”

God is profusely prodigal in God’s desire to draw all of us unto God’s self. God is relentlessly radical to have us in God’s arms so God can shower us with divine kisses. And as the ranting of the religious leaders and the anger of the older brother reveal, such prodigal love, such extravagant grace and profuse mercy, such over-the-top compassion and empathy, will always be rejected by the conservative religious culture, and even frowned upon by some of our family members.

In fact, if we are praised by the predominant religious culture and by most in our families, then that is a tell-tell sign, that when it comes to love, when it comes to being a disciple of Jesus, we are doing something terribly wrong.

So, like a parent waiting on the porch for their wayward child to return home, may our love for others and for this planet, may our love for justice and equality, our love for diversity, equity, and inclusion, may our love for peace and freedom, always be profusely prodigal.

Then, it will be prophetically prodigal. Because love—when it is extravagant, when it is lavishly abundant and reckless, when it is completely nonviolent and unconditional, when it is radically counter-cultural and seemingly foolish—that’s the type of love that has the power to change the world! In fact, it is the only power that can change this world!

Ya gotta love that we are having our first nonviolent peace vigil this week on April Fool’s Day, as I am sure that we will have some passersby look at the signs we will be holding and say: “Look at dem crazy fools!” Because when we dare to be prophetically and publicly prodigal in a conservative, religious town, we are going to look foolish. And perhaps we are. How foolish are we?

  • We’re prodigally prophetic and foolish enough to believe that the only life worth living is a life that is given away.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the Kingdom of God belongs to the poor.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe those who hunger and thirst for justice will be filled.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe the last shall be first.
  • Thus, we’re prodigally prophetic and foolish enough to use our power and privilege, not to enrich ourselves, but stand up for the marginalized, defend the most vulnerable, and free the oppressed.
  • We’re prophetically prodigal and foolish enough see every human being, every race, color, gender, and every sexual orientation, is the image of God, that every person is a beloved child of God.
  • We’re foolish enough to forgive seventy times seven.
  • We’re foolish enough to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, give the very shirt off our back.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to feed the hungry, love an enemy, welcome a stranger, and visit a prison.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that this world, this earth can be a better place, that all of creation can live in peace.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to get back up when life knocks us down.
  • We’re prodigally foolish enough to never give up, never give in, and never give out.
  • We’re foolish enough to believe that nothing can separate anyone from the love of God.
  • We’re recklessly, profusely, prodigally, prophetically foolish enough to believe that nothing can stop us, not even death, because nothing can stop love. Nothing can cause it to fade or to fail. Love always wins, and love never ends.

We Must

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn LentLeave a comment

Luke 13:31-35 NRSV

It’s one of the greatest sentences Luke attributes to Jesus: “Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way.” Notice, Jesus didn’t say, he might, he may, or he’ll try. Jesus said, “he must” continue living, loving and serving his way.

I love to read how the forbearers of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) stirred up thousands upon thousands of people in the late 18th and early 19th century. Some estimate that when Barton Stone held his revival at Cane Ridge, Kentucky in 1801, nearly 30,000 people showed up. That’s 10% of the entire population of Kentucky.[i] Can you imagine that?

Today, I believe a good question we should ask ourselves is: What in the world were these folks preaching? How did they start a movement that would later become one of the largest denominations in North America?

I believe they simply had the audacity to fully commit themselves to following the way Jesus lived, loved and served at all costs.

Following Jesus was not something that they did casually, haphazardly, timidly, or reservedly. They followed Jesus passionately and fervently, eagerly, and urgently. And following Jesus was not something that they did privately. They followed Jesus publicly. And they didn’t care who they offended, or if those with political or ecclesial authority opposed them for it.

They unashamedly imitated Jesus who said: “Oh, King Herod, wants to kill me? Well, you tell that fox that I must keep doing the business of the one who sent me.

 I must keep liberating people from demonic evil, systemic, political, cultural, and personal.

You tell Herod I must keep bringing people healing and wholeness today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you tell them that I must take this mission all the way to Jerusalem.

That’s right, you tell that fox for me that I must do these things. Not that I might do these things, not that I am going to try to follow this way, but that I must follow this way.”

I believe Barton Stone started a movement by simply putting the word “must” back into a Christianity that had grown apathetic, moderate, and mainstream.

He preached that Christians must put God’s word over the words of the culture, the way of Jesus over the way of the world.

We must denounce all man-made creeds and confessions, and we must commit ourselves to following Jesus at all costs.

“Oh, the presbytery thinks we’re going against the doctrinal grains of the church, do they? Oh, the government thinks we are bucking the unjust political systems, do they? Well, you tell those foxes that we must keep following Jesus today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. We must keep fighting for the inclusion of all at the Lord’s table. We must keep preaching against the demonic evils of slavery, white supremacy, and anything else that does not jive with Jesus! You tell those foxes that we must be on this way.”

I do not believe we can overemphasize how committed our forbearers were to the gospel even when the gospel was directly opposed culture. At Cane Ridge, during a time when Presbyterians believed only like-minded Presbyterians could receive communion, Presbyterian Barton Stone invited an African-American slave, a Baptist pastor, to not only receive communion, but to actually serve communion. And if you asked him why he included this man, I believe he would have simply said, “As a follower of Christ, I must include him.”

And later, when Stone inherited two slaves, he immediately emancipated them. Trouble was that they were living in Kentucky long before the Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation. So, what does Stone do? He tells his family and his two former slaves, “Pack your bags, because we must move to Illinois, because our new friends must be free!”

And thousands of people from all over the then expanding United States responded to Stone by saying, “We must join this movement!” And by 1960, the movement they started exploded into a denomination with 1.6 million members.

Now here’s the troubling news. Today, we have less than 300,000 members, with less than 100,000 who report they attend worship regularly.

There are many complex reasons for this decline. Other so-called “mainline” denominations have experienced similar declines. The rejection of the way of Jesus by many today who call themselves Christians have attributed to much of the decline. The lust for power and cultural dominance is one reason.

This morning, I want to suggest that one of the reasons the many mainline churches seem to have lost its way is that we have removed the word “must” from our vocabulary.

We have lost a holy passion to follow Jesus at all costs.

We have lost a burning drive to place the supreme law of God to love our neighbors as ourselves, like our own flesh and blood, like our own siblings, treating foreigners as if they are native-born, over any other law or executive order.

We have lost a sense of urgency to be a courageous movement for wholeness that boldly speaks truth to power.

Our faith has become more of something that privately changes our souls instead of something that publicly changes the world.

Consequently, our faith intends to mirror the culture instead of transforming the culture. Watered down by peer pressure, greed, and a lust for power, our faith has become mainstream, mainline, and moderate.

In fact, when you look up the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) on Wikipedia, you will discover that we are described as a “mainline denomination in North America.”

Barton Stone would roll over in his grave! For Stone followed a Jesus who was far more upstream than mainstream, more radical than moderate, always swimming against popular currents of culture. He followed a Jesus who must be on a way of selfless, sacrificial, inclusive, liberating love, even it got him to some trouble.

Do you remember the story of twelve-year old Jesus when he did the unthinkable by leaving his parents behind? When his upset parents finally found him in the temple, Jesus asked, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house” (Luke 2:49)?

After healing Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, the crowds used all the peer pressure they could muster to prevent Jesus from leaving them, but he replied, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God in other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose” (Luke 4:43).

Warning the disciples who resisted suffering and persecution, Jesus said: “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised” (Luke 9:22).

When he encountered a man who needed to stop stealing from the poor, Jesus said, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Luke 19:5).

Right before his arrest on the Mount of Olives Jesus describes his death by saying: “For I tell you, this scripture must be fulfilled in me” (Luke 22:37).

Jesus selflessly and sacrificially travels to Jerusalem, to the city that is known to kill the prophets, and he travels there, not casually, haphazardly, timidly, or reservedly. But with passion. With eagerness. With urgency in his steps, conviction in his heart, and the word “must” on his lips: “You tell that fox that I must be on this way.”

Now, tell me, when it comes to your faith, when is the last time you have ever said aloud or silently: “I must!”

“I must share the liberating love and transforming grace of Christ with someone who needs it today!”

“I must find a way to include and protect these who are being demeaned and dehumanized for being different, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.”

I must find a way to create a more peaceful and just world, the next day, and the day after.”

“I must feed someone today who is hungry.”

“I must share hope today with someone who can’t any chance that things will ever be better.”

Truthfully, as a pastor, I don’t hear many folks use the word “must” very often in the church. I hear the word “might.” “I might, if nothing else comes up.” “I might, if everything else goes alright this week.” “I’ll check my calendar, and then I might think about it.”

And I often hear the word “try.” “I’ll try to help out, if I don’t have somewhere else to be.”

And I often hear “maybe.” “Maybe I’ll be able to work a little on that project. Maybe I will be able to give some of my time this week.”

And sometimes I hear all three, in the same sentence! “I might try to be more faithful, maybe.”

And I must confess that I am just as guilty.

But think about what kind of church this would be if we all had the same type of urgency and passion as our Lord. “Can you help with our children’s ministry?” “I must help with our children’s ministry!”

“Can you serve on this ministry team?”

“I must serve on it!”

“Can you attend the John Dear workshop on living a non-violent life?” “I must attend!”

“Will you follow Jesus at all costs? Even if it gets you into some trouble?”

“We must!”

The good news is that I believe this urgency and this passion can be as contagious in the twenty-first century as it was in the nineteenth century.

If we decide to be more upstream than mainstream, I believe First Christian Church in Lynchburg and other churches can bring revival to our nation and encourage many others to say with us:

We must join this movement for wholeness in our fragmented world.

We must join this mission to use the gifts God has given us.

We must speak up and stand against racism, xenophobia, transphobia and hate in all its forms.

We must serve and protect the least of these among us and treat the foreigner like our native-born.

We must take a stand for the Word of God, even if it gets us into some trouble.

We must do what we can to transform this this city, our region, and our world with the liberating love of God, even if it goes against the powers-that-be.

We must follow Jesus by loving our neighbors as ourselves, like our own flesh and blood, like our own siblings, even when it is not culturally popular or socially acceptable.

We must do unto others as we would have them do unto us, even if our friends forsake us and our enemies wish to do us harm.

Oh, you say that we might be labeled “enemies of the state?” You say that our loud resistance and public protest might be deemed illegal?

Well, you tell that fox that it is the season of Lent, we are Disciples of Christ, and we must on a way of compassion, mercy, and justice. We must resist hate. We must embrace love. We must pick up our crosses, and we must carry it wherever our Lord leads, no turning back, today, tomorrow and the next day.

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

Mercy, Not Sacrifice

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

It is indeed an honor for me to stand before a congregation that has the audacity to believe that we should only exclude those people Jesus excluded, and that is no one—a church that not only believes that God’s love is for all people, but believes God’s call to ministry is for all people, with no exceptions. 

This is one of the great truths revealed in our gospel lesson this morning where we read Jesus calling a tax collector for a puppet king of the Romans to be a disciple. The oppressive taxes alone were enough to alienate Matthew, but the fact that the taxes went to a foreign government made Matthew hated among the Jews. 

Jesus is calling someone the religious establishment despised to be a disciple. Matthew, and his friends, are deemed morally reprehensible by the religious culture, yet, Jesus chooses to sit down at the table and share supper with them.

I believe it is very important for us to notice where Matthew was sitting when this initial invitation from Jesus to be a disciples takes place. In the third pew on the piano side of the synagogue? At a table in a Sabbath School class? No, Jesus has an encounter with Matthew while Matthew is at work, sitting in a tax booth out in the marketplace. I believe this underscores another great truth: If the church truly wants to fulfill the great commission and make disciples, then we must learn to find ways to go out and meet people where they are, instead of expecting people to come to us, especially those who may not understand that we truly welcome them here.  

After the Pharisees disparaged Jesus for demonstrating that there are no exceptions when it comes to the love of God, Jesus, rather ironically, reminds these teachers of the law that they still have a lot to learn. Notice that it is to the teachers he says: “Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” “Go and learn what this means.”

The church today still has much to learn about how to truly be the church; however, perhaps the greatest thing we need to learn is this: that Jesus desires “mercy, not sacrifice.”

Jesús is quoting words from Hosea chapter 6 where we read the prophet speaking out against meaningless acts of worship, stating that what God truly desires is mercy, not burnt offerings, not sacrifices. The Hebrew word translated “mercy” is hesed, which denotes the love of God for us— a constant and consistent, compassionate and extravagant love that never gives up, gives in or gives out. 

And Hosea is not the only prophet who proclaims what God truly desires. In the first chapter of Isaiah we read: 

What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt-offerings…
… who [even] asked this from your hand? Trample my courts no more; 

Bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination…
   I cannot endure solemn assemblies… 
Your appointed festivals my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me, I am weary of bearing them. 
When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers, I will not listen;
   your hands are full of blood. 
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes;
cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan, plead for the widow.

 Isaiah 1:11-17 NRSV

It is in the fifth chapter of Amos we read:

I hate, I despise your festivals,
   and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. 
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings,
   I will not accept them… 
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
   I will not listen to the melody of your harps. 
But let justice roll down like waters,
   and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Amos 5:21-24 NRSV

And the prophet Micah asks: 

‘With what shall I come before the Lord…
Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings…
…He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
   and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? 

Micah 6:6-8 NRSV

“Go and learn what this means,” says Jesus, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” And it is then that we read about Jesus’ encounter with two people who need mercy. We read about Jesus healing a woman who was ostracized and otherized, deemed “unclean” by the powers-that-be as she had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. And then we read about Jesus restoring life to a girl who was dead, while the religious folks laugh and ridicule him.

I love corporate worship. I believe gathering together for worship is one of the great essentials of our faith. The word “church” is translated from the Greek word ecclesia, which literally means a “gathering” or “assembly.” And it is certainly good for us to gather.

However, what we need to learn is that our assemblies on Sunday mornings are meaningless to God without the unwavering and undeterred acts of mercy we are called to carry out outside these sacred walls during the week— acts of healing and of restoration, acts of liberation and justice.

When I was growing up in rural northeastern North Carolina, on Sunday mornings we had what we called, “Sunday School” at 9:45, and then we had what we simply called “church” at 11, which, of course, was the worship service. I should probably confess that I have not always loved corporate worship, for I will never forget how happy I was those times mama would announce on Sunday morning that we were eating dinner with grandmama, therefore we were going to Sunday School but then would miss “church.”

You know what I disliked the most about church? The preaching, of course!

And sometimes we even referred to worship or “church” as “preaching.” I remember asking: “Can’t we just go to Sunday School and skip preaching?”

Still today, when somebody today says: “I missed church last week,” what they mean is that they missed sitting in a pew listening to a sermon. Or maybe they missed singing some hymns. A Disciple might be saying they missed receiving Communion. The point is, that when we say that we missed church, more often than not, we are saying that we missed assembling here, in this building worshipping God.

I believe the prophets and Jesus want us to understand that “church” means much more, much more than our assemblies and certainly much more than this building. It means being the embodiment of Christ, the merciful hands and feet of Jesus in this world.

I believe God wants the church to create such a culture that if we say “we missed church last week”, we’re not talking about missing a sermon. We’re talking about missing an opportunity to love a neighbor as we love ourselves.

When we say “we missed church last week,” we’re not talking about missing Communion. We’re talking about missing an opportunity to feed someone who is hungry, or clothe someone who is poor, or give shelter to someone who does not have a home.

When we say “we missed church,” we’re not talking about not coming to this building, we’re talking about missing an opportunity to go city hall, travel to Richmond or to Washington to stand up and speak out for those who face discrimination, isolation and alienation. 

When we say “we missed church,” we are talking about missing an opportunity to bring healing and restoration to someone who has suffered spiritual abuse, or has been made to feel that they are outside the boundaries of God’s grace and God’s love. 

When we say “we missed church,” we are talking about missing an opportunity to bring abundant life to those who are treated as if they do not exist, forced to be called by their dead name. We are actually talking about raising the dead, despite the laughs and the ridicule we might receive from some religious folks.

“Go and learn what this means,” says Jesus, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice!”

Because when the voices of hate are loud, the world doesn’t need us to just go to church, the world needs us to be the church, to go out and show up as the church. The world doesn’t need us to only light a candle inside the sanctuary. The world needs us to be a light of mercy out in the darkness, a light that is so bright that it is bound to upset some religious folks!

When our children are being slaughtered by assault weapons, the world doesn’t need our prayers, the world needs our mercy.

When people are led by fear instead of by love, when queerphobic rhetoric in politics, and in many churches, is causing immeasurable suffering, when holy scripture is weaponized to support hate …the world needs our mercy. 

When a travel advisory against visiting another state is issued for our black and brown siblings, and when our trans siblings are denied healthcare and are unable to use a public restroom… the world needs our mercy. 

When reproductive rights are stripped from women, when greed is destroying the planet, when books are being banned, science is denied, truth is rejected, compassion is maligned, empathy is scarce and love is restricted …the world needs our mercy. 

When diversity, equity and inclusion, mercy itself, is outlawed, along with teaching our children the truth about racism, if there is one thing that we need to hear on this upcoming Juneteenth Weekend, is that our world needs us to go out, stand up, speak out, march, work, serve, fight and vote for mercy. Through our gospel lesson this morning, Jesus is imploring the church today on the behalf of the world to “go and learn what this means!” 

I believe this is the holy purpose of our Sunday morning gatherings here in this place, and this is why this time together here is so important, essential and sacred. In Sunday School and in worship, at and around the table, in church, we are to learn what it means to go out to be the church, to be the unwavering merciful, visible, demonstrative embodiment of Christ in this world. 

We are to learn what it means to go out into the marketplace to make disciples. We are to learn what it means to welcome those whom others fear and despise to the table. 

We are to learn what it means to heal the sick and raise the dead. 

We are to learn what it means to defend the orphan, plead for the widow, and rescue the oppressed.

We are to learn what it means to love kindness, to do justice and to walk humbly with our God.  

Through our gatherings in this place, together, we are to learn how to love this world as Christ loves this world. We come here to be refreshed and renewed, empowered and emboldened to go out and do all we can, with all that we have, to let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.

Amen.

More Than Enough

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

Anthony Baptism

John 6:1-21 NRSV

It is believed that St. Francis of Assisi once said: “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary use words.”

I believe the baptism of Anthony Truong preached this morning’s gospel lesson from John this morning without using a word.

People had gathered together “because of the signs that Jesus was doing for the sick”: for people who could not see, for people who could not hear, for people who could not talk, and for people who could not walk.

Then came a logistical conundrum.

Jesus said to Philip, “Where on earth are we going to buy enough bread to feed all of these people?”

“There’s just no way,” answered Philip. “Six months wages would not be enough to feed this crowd!”

Andrew spoke up and said, “But there’s this boy here!”

I like that. “But there’s this boy here. He has 5 loaves and two fish, but not enough to feed five thousand people.”

However, the good news is that although what the boy possessed did not seem like enough, with Jesus, it was actually more than enough!

After everyone ate (notice verse 11 and 12) “as much as they wanted” until they were “satisfied,” the left overs filled twelve baskets!

When Anthony expressed his desire to be baptized, we were also faced with a logistical conundrum.

Someone said: “How are you going to have enough strength to carry Anthony up and down those baptistery steps, baptize him, and then carry him back up and down so he can dry off, get dressed and be back in the service before communion. There’s just no way.”

I started thinking: “Maybe we could baptize him by pouring water on his his head; that way, he would not have to get into the baptismal pool.” So I asked Anthony. To which he responded and I quote, “No, I want to go all the way.”

So to the question of “how are you going to make this happen,” my answer is: “But there’s this boy here!”

“But there’s this boy here, and although the faith that he possesses may not seem like enough, I have a feeling that it is more than enough!”

As soon as the newsletter was emailed on Tuesday announcing the baptism, John Mundy, Steve Parke, Randy Alexander, and Dan Marshall immediately agreed to help with the baptism to make sure it was more than enough.

The good news is that this is exactly how our God loves to work in our world. When there seems to be no way, God loves to make a way. When it seems like it is not enough, God makes not just enough, but more than enough!

Our Hebrew lesson this morning from 2 Kings 4 illustrates this good news: During a famine a man brings the prophet Elisha a prophet’s tithe: Twenty loaves of bread and some fresh ears of grain in a sack.

Elisha accepts the tithe, but says, I want you to take this food and give it to the poor.

It is then the man points out the logistical conundrum: “But there’s just no way. There is not enough food here to set before a hundred people.”

But Elisha assures the man, “Because of your great faith in bringing this tithe during a famine, I have this feeling that it is more than enough.”

The man set the food before the people, and sure enough, there was not only enough, but it was more than enough, as they had leftovers.

This good news was also experienced by Elisha’s predecessor Elijah.

In 1 Kings 17, the prophet Elijah is sent by the Lord to visit a woman widow in Zarephath who will feed him when he arrives.

When he comes to the gate of the town, just as the Lord had said, he meets a widow who is gathering a couple of sticks to build a fire for dinner. He called to her and said, “Pour me a glass of water. And while you are at it, bring me a morsel of bread.”

Confronted with a logistical conundrum that has life and death consequences, she said, “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug.” In other words, “There’s just no way. I simply do not have enough for you in this famine.”

Elijah says: “Do not be afraid.”

Old Testament Professor Katherine Schifferdecker imagines her saying:

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one preparing to cook one last meal for yourself and your son before you die. You’re not the one who has watched your carefully-hoarded supply of flour and oil relentlessly dwindle day-by-day, week-by-week, as the sun bakes the seed in the hard, parched earth and the wadis run dry. You’re not the one who has watched your beloved son slowly grow thinner and more listless.”

“Elijah said to her, ‘Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son” (1 Kings 17:13).

“How dare this man of God ask me for bread, knowing that I have so little? Who does he think he is, asking me for bread before I feed my own child? There’s no way. I told him that I have only “a handful of meal, a little oil, and a couple of sticks. There’s not enough. And Death waits at the door.”

Then the good news:

For thus says the Lord the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.’ She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah (1 Kings 17:14-16).

There was not only enough. There was more than enough.

Diagnosed with scoliosis, the doctors wanted to perform surgery when you were 12 years old. During the surgery you suffered a spinal stroke that left you paralyzed from the waist down. Some thought there was no way. They said, “there’s just not enough left.” But, you didn’t give up. You kept going. You kept fighting, and you kept living. You joined a wheelchair basketball league. You stayed in school. You went to church. And six years later you joined Ainsley’s Angels and completed a 5k and a 15k. Soon after that 15k, you ended back into the hospital for the second time with a severe infection. On a respirator for nearly three weeks, some feared there might not be enough antibiotics, love or faith to see you through. They feared you might be running out of sticks, your jar was almost empty, your jug was beginning to fail.

But the good news is that you came back, and you came back strong. You completed not one but three more 5ks. You enrolled in college. You joined a church. And this morning you were baptized symbolizing that not only did you have enough sticks, enough meal in you jar, enough oil in your jug, you had more than enough.

And the amazing news is that there are countless more stories just like Anthony’s in this room. Your marriage failed. Your son was killed. A child died. You lost your job. You lost a business. You lost your home. You became addicted to alcohol or drugs. You received a grim diagnosis. People said there was no way. They said you were all about out of sticks. However, you never lost your sense of gratitude. You kept the faith.  In the face of your suffering you continued to worship and thank God for the gift of life. Somehow, some miraculous way, your jar never emptied and your jug never failed, and you have always found that you always seem to possess a great big pile of sticks! And not just enough sticks, but more than enough.”

Not only does the baptism of Anthony this morning proclaim the text about Jesus having more than enough to feed 5,000 people, it also proclaims last part of our text about Jesus walking on water.

It was the Sunday after Hurricane Floyd flooded the first house Lori and ever purchased in eastern North Carolina. To say that we had a logistical conundrum would be making an understatement.

I had been wading in waist deep water that Thursday and all day Friday trying to salvage our possessions. And then on that Sunday morning, can you believe that one of the first things that I did was to climb down the steps of our baptistery into waist deep water to baptize a new member of the church?

I’ll never forget the first words I spoke. I looked out into the congregation from that baptistery, and I said, “You know, you would think that standing in waist deep water is the last place I would want to be this morning. However, it is actually the first place I need to be this morning!”

I then said: “Before today, baptismal water had always represented purity and refreshment to me. It was a water which cleansed one’s spirit and refreshed one’s soul. It was a renewing, invigorating water, life-giving water. However, on this particular Sunday, this water represents to me something more, something dreadful, something heinous, something sinister. This water symbolizes destruction, despair and death.”

I believe Paul understood the destructive forces of sin and evil in our world and that water was symbolic of of those chaotic forces. This is why he wrote to the church in Rome: ‘Remember that you have been buried with Christ by baptism into death.’

And this is why the picture of Jesus walking on water in the darkness amidst howling winds and crashing waves is so inspiring. Jesus was doing much more than walking on water. That would be enough in itself. Jesus was walking all over the forces of evil like they did not even exist. Which makes it more than enough.

This morning, Anthony, was buried with Jesus into death, and he rose from death into the newness of life, symbolizing that he will always have more than enough to conquer any storm, flood or chaotic force that might come his way.

And the good news is that God is still walking on water. God is still raising people up. God is still serving bread. God is still filling jars and replenishing jugs, and in God’s kingdom, the sticks that fuel the fire of the Holy Spirit never run out. So do not be afraid. Despite every logistical, physical or spiritual conundrum we face, there will always be enough. No, in God’s abundant mercy, there will always be more than enough. Thanks be to God.

 

For God So Loves the World

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

earth_heart

Luke 21:5-19 NRSV

Since the presidential election, I have heard many predict the end of the world. And before the election, TV evangelist Jim Bakker even said that if Hillary Clinton won, next month we would be celebrating our very last Christmas. I have heard Rev. Billy Graham say more times than I can count that he believed the end of the world was coming in his “lifetime.” That’s rather scary coming from a man who celebrated his 98th birthday this past Monday!

Even before this nasty presidential campaign, the Barna group found 4 in 10 Americans, and 77 percent of evangelical Christians, believe “the world is now in so called “biblical end times.”[i]

So, in spite of what we may think about this subject, this morning, perhaps more than ever, we need to hear what Jesus has to say about the end of days.

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

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

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

Well, glory halleluiah! Because with all the troubles in this world, I really don’t want to preach about the Zombie Apocalypse today. So, Amen Jesus! Let’s move on to some more pleasant things!  Let’s get onto a happier, more cheerful subject! Enough of all this gloom and doom, misery and woe!

Ok, now let’s listen to what Jesus has to say next! Hopefully, it will be something much more uplifting than World War III! If it’s not the end of the world, perhaps he still has something to say that will turn our eyes, if just for fifteen minutes, away from the suffering of this world.

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

Come on, Jesus! Are you serious?

But I guess if we have been reading and listening to Luke, we should not be that surprised. It is as if Jesus is saying:

“Do not worry so much about the tribulations that will come with the end of the world; because, if you are following me, if you are faithfully living as my disciple, if you have fully committed yourself to carrying a cross, if you are truly serving those I call you to serve, if you are working to build my kingdom on this earth by building safe communities that preach good news to the poor, and speak truth to power while defending the powerless and standing up for rights of the marginalized, welcome the foreigner while respecting other faiths, provide quality and equitable education for children so they can one day earn a fair wage, take care of the sick and advocate for those with exceptional needs, if you are working for my justice and my wholeness in this fragmented world, then there is no need for you to fret over the end of days. . . because you are going to stir up plenty of trouble to worry about today!”

“Because you are truly living for me by loving this broken and suffering world as much as I love this world, you will sacrifice much. People will try to break you, and you will suffer. Organized religion will resist you. The state might arrest you, and you will certainly be hated. You will be defriended by friends and disowned by family.”

Matthew remembers Jesus saying on another occasion: ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today (Matthew 6:34).

Then Jesus adds: “But this will give you an opportunity to testify.”

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

I believe Jesus is saying: “It might be ok to think and dream about leaving this troubled world behind one day. It is fine to have the hope that someday, somehow, some way there’s going to be no more evil to fight. It is wonderful to know a time is coming when there is going to be no more mourning, crying, pain, presidential elections, and death. However, if avoiding Hell is the only reason you are Christians, then you have missed the whole point of who I am and who you are called to be as my disciples.”

I believe Jesus is saying to us today: “Don’t go to church looking to avoid a suffering world. Go and be church bearing the sufferings of this world. Don’t go to church looking for some fire insurance. Go and be church allowing me lead you into the fire! Don’t go to church to escape a world going to Hell. Go and be church committed to loving the Hell out of this world, even if it gets you killed.”

This is exactly why I believe so many Christians are tempted “go after” those who love to preach about the end of days, especially those who say that it is coming in our lifetimes. For it is far easier to believe that God has already given up on this world.

It is much easier to look at the nastiness of this past election and believe that it is all a part of God’s divine plan, a preview of things to come! It is easier to believe that earthquakes and hurricanes and tornadoes and poverty and war, political corruption and terrorism, amplified racism and sexism, a divided country, are all part of God’s apocalyptic will; it is easier to accept that God has already given up on the world, so we might as well give up too; than it is to believe that God calls us to selflessly suffer alongside those who are suffering.

It would be much easier to believe that Christianity is only about getting a ticket to heaven to escape this troubled world and its problems, than it is to believe that our faith is about serving those who are troubled in this world.

British scholar Lesslie Newbigin comments: “In an age of impending ecological crises,” with the “threat of nuclear war and a biological holocaust” Christians everywhere have “sounded the trumpet of retreat.” They have thrown their hands u and have given up on the world. Their faith in Jesus has become merely a private, spiritual matter. Faith is only something they possess, something they hold on to, to insulate them from the sufferings of this world and to someday use as their ticket out here.

In the meantime, they withdraw into safe sanctuaries looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth. And they listen to angry sermons by angry preachers condemning the current world to Hell in a hand basket.

And giving up on this world is really nothing new. At the turn of the first century, Jews, called Gnostics, had a similar view of the world. Everything worldly, even the human body itself, was regarded as evil.

And maybe they had some pretty good reasons to believe that way, because regardless of what some may believe, things in the world did not start going bad with this presidential campaign. The truth is: things have been pretty rough in this world ever since that serpent showed up in the garden.

At the turn of the first century, Jews were a conquered, depressed people, occupied the Romans. And they were terrorized daily by a ruthless, pro-Roman King named Herod—a king who would stop at nothing to have his way, even murder of innocent children. The Gnostics looked at the world and their situation and came to the conclusion that they were divine souls trapped in evil bodies living in a very dark, God-forsaken, God-despised world.

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

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

Thus, the message that we all need to hear today is not that the end is near as God believes the world is worth destroying, it is that something brand new can happen, a light can still shine in the darkness, because God believes this world is worth saving. God believes this world is still worth praying for, working for, fighting for, suffering for. God still believes that this world is worth dying for.

As the body of Christ in this world, we are not called to retreat from the world and its troubles, but we are called to love this world, to do battle for this world, to even die for this world. We are called to be a selfless community of faith in this broken world. And, no matter the cost, we are called to share this good news “for God so loves this world” with all people.

And the good news is: though we might be arrested by the state and get some push back from organized religion, though we are betrayed by family and friends, though we are hated and could even be put to death, God promises that not a hair on our head will perish, and by our endurance, we will gain our souls. Thanks be God.

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

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

God Is Love: Yesterday, Today and Forever

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Farmville Enterprise, Just a Thought3 Comments

same yesterday today and forever

I hear many people say that the Bible paints two very different portraits of God. They say that the God of the Old Testament was a God of wrath, judgment and vengeance, a God of Hell, fire and brimstone; whereas, the God of the New Testament was a God of love, grace and mercy. I suspect this may be part of the reason that while some say they believe in love and grace, they make it very clear with their words and deeds, that they also believe in judgment and condemnation.

However, I believe God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and I believe God is love. Therefore, God will always be love, and God has always been love. Many point to the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 and talk about God punishing the first two humans by kicking them out of the garden; however, as I pointed out a couple of weeks ago in a sermon, the story is about the human consequences of knowing good and evil, and consequently, our shame. And it is a story about a God who deals with our shame by clothing us with grace, as God made garments of skin to cover Adam and Eve’s shame.

Furthermore, in the next chapter, when Cain, who deserves to die for killing his brother Abel, fears that his life is over, God emphatically says, “Not so!” God then reaches down and puts a mark of grace on Cain. Moreover, God’s grace followed Cain, even in that place east of Eden called Nod, even in that place that Cain believed was outside of God’s presence.

Thus, proving in the very beginning of all that is, that there is not, has never been, and will never be, anything in all of creation that can separate us from the love of God.