The Cornerstone Pulpit

A New Robe of Faith . . .

2006-12-31T08:20:00.000-08:00

1st Sunday after Christmas Day

1st Samuel 2:18-20, 26

Well, Happy New Year to you all. This is the weekend when we celebrate the beginning of a new year in our world. It is a natural time of new beginnings, new hopes. Many of us will be making resolutions – did you know that the #2 most popular resolution is to lose weight? That surprised me a little – the #1 most popular resolution is to get a better job. Hmmm. We could talk a little about the chicken and the egg, there, don’t you think?

Anyway, one of the things that catches my attention on the television this time of year, in between football games, are those news stories that list the highlight news events of the year, and especially the passing of important people in our world. My nephew this past week couldn’t get over the fact that James Brown didn’t live as long as Gerald Ford. I don’t know why that struck him so – but it did. I’m always amazed to see which celebrities have passed that I had forgotten about over the course of the year . . .

My mind this week turned again to the Old Testament scripture. I had about decided that I was through with the prophets and the Old Testament for a while – Advent about wore me out. But I was struck by a phrase in the Samuel passage that really jumped out at me, and that’s where I got the glimmer of an idea for the sermon this morning.

It was that second verse in the passage Mary just read for us – verse 10 of 1st Samuel, chapter 2. “His mother used to make for him a little robe and take it to him each year, when she went up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice.”

The story of Samuel is another of those stories of the bible where we have to step outside our contemporary moral judgments, and it is also a story where we get a real look at real life problems – how people try to handle them, and what God does in response to the pleas of his people. Here’s the short version. Hannah was married to Elkanah – interestingly enough out of the same country near Bethlehem we looked at last week. Elkanah actually had two wives – wait a minute – I thought this was the Bible we were studying?!?! Anyway, the other wife was named Peninnah, and she had lots of children – which wasn’t so much of a problem, except Hannah was barren. Another biblical “barren woman” story. Peninnah would rub it in from time to time – especially when Elkanah would go up to the temple for sacrifice. The first chapter of 1st Samuel tells us that he would sacrifice for Peninnah and each of her sons, but that he would offer a double sacrifice for Hannah, because he loved her. This really irritated Peninnah, and so she would go out of her way to make fun of Hannah and her barrenness. Hmmm.

So, Hannah turned to God with her pleas, and eventually promised God that if God gave her a son, she would give him back to God in God’s service. The priest, old Eli was watching her offering this prayer to God one day, and he approached her about the whole matter, and Eli rather prophesies that her wish will be granted. And so it was. Samuel was born to Elkanah and Hannah, and she did as she had promised – when the child was old enough, she took him to the temple, they offered sacrifices, and after he was weaned, she left him there to minister with old Eli.

In my mind’s eye, I’m just trying to imagine any woman I know leaving her newly weaned child with the old priest at the temple, and then going home, only to make yearly visits to the temple to see her son. I’m trying to imagine . . .

And I could also just imagine Samuel’s mother trying to figure out what size he had grown to over the year – did she measure the robe up against other little boys in her town to get an estimate of Samuel’s size and height? I’m sure she picked out the best cloth she could find for this new robe. He obviously needed a new robe – he was a growing boy, and you know how they go through clothes, especially if they only have one robe to wear!!

Well, that’s the story. But it got me to thinking about our own growth – especially our spiritual growth – growth in our faith. We talk a lot about growing in faith, but I don’t think we’ve ever really tried to define what we’re talking about. One of my favorite Pauline verses comes from Romans, chapter 1. Verses 16 and 17 – “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the
Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written, ‘But the righteous man shall live by faith.’” From faith to faith – as a result of those growth spurts in our faith, the righteousness of God is revealed through the power of His Gospel.

Just how does that growth in our faith occur? Well, I don’t think we can narrow it down to just one method. It probably happens a number of ways. I’ll suggest two. Sometimes growth in our faith happens as a result of moving through life’s difficult circumstances; and secondly, sometimes our growth comes as a result of choosing to step out into new ventures.

Unless you’re immune from life’s problems, you’ve had something happen to you this past year that has been hard to handle. It was a troubling event – something you didn’t ask for, but it came your way nonetheless. Perhaps you had a death in your immediate family. Perhaps some member of your family was ill for some period of time. Maybe you lost a job and had to find a new one. Those are the big things we usually think about. We call them the “stress” points in our life. Psychologists consider the stress factors that come our way, and they’ve devised a scale that allots points to each kind of stress we experience, and then suggests how much stress any one human can live with before they are at risk for health related issues – by one scale I looked at, they think the average person can live with 150 points of stress in their lives without facing significant risk to their health. Some of the things on the list are the biggies in our world – death of a spouse, divorce, death of family member (parent or sibling) – those kinds of things. But other stressors in our lives are the things that are common to all of us every year of our lives – a mortgage or loan over $10,000 is worth 31 points all by itself. A vacation is worth 13 points, a traffic ticket is worth 11 points, and Christmas, just the event of Christmas, is worth 12 points. We’re probably nuts to ever consider taking a vacation at Christmas, huh??

We all live with these kind of life circumstances, but many of us thrive during them, or at least as we move through them. Ed Vineyard sent me a thought provoking e-mail yesterday which serves as something of an illustration here. Sometimes we wonder, "What did I do to deserve this?" or "Why did God have to do this to me?" Here is a wonderful explanation! A daughter is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong, she's failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away. Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, "Absolutely Mom, I love your cake." "Here, have some cooking oil," her Mother offers. "Yuck" says her daughter. "How about a couple raw eggs?" "Gross, Mom!" "Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?" "Mom, those are all yucky!" To which the mother replies: "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake! God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

Friends, our faith can thrive as a result of trials in our lives. I suspect – no, I know that every person in this room is testimony to that truth.

But trouble and difficult aren’t the only ways we grow in faith. All of our growth doesn’t come as a result of problems. We can also choose to grow in our faith.

I offer as illustration my upcoming mission trip this next week. People have been asking me if I’m excited about going to Romania. Honestly, and I’ve been answering them honestly, not so much. Neither am I especially dreading it. Truth of the matter is I don’t really like long flights, and I know that I’ll miss my bed and my pillow. But I know that I will grow in faith – at least in some small way – as a result of this mission trip. I virtually expect it. That has been my experience in the past, and I suspect it will always be my experience in the future.

We didn’t read the epistle this morning – it comes to us from Colossians 3, verses 12 and following. Just the first verse is pretty good all by itself – “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience.” Were we to resolve to do anything in the coming year, we could do worse than to resolve to live our lives with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. I know that I could do worse.

I have had one other thought about growth in our faith. By its very definition, the word faith assumes some level of naïveté. I know that my choice of illustrations here is somewhat dated, but I hear that even the younger folks are watching “All in the Family” reruns. Old Archie once waded in on the subject of faith. I’ll delete the expletive, but basically he said, “Faith is believing what any ______ fool knows ain’t so.” He was correct in this respect - faith suggests naïveté – or at least some level of simplicity or innocence – certainly a lack of sophistication in the way we see and know our world. I really beg to differ with that way of looking at faith. Over the years, I think my faith as become anything but simple, while at the same time remaining quite simple. To pull that off, I think faith requires something rather sophisticated – the ability to see and know in multiple ways, according to the variety of situations in which we find ourselves. Whether or not that’s the case for you in your life, we would probably agree on this – we don’t wear the same robe of faith that we wore when we were children, or when we were of youth age, or young adults, or even the same robe of faith we wore last year. Our capacity to faith has changed – it has grown, and we are better for it. Perhaps we need a new robe of faith for the coming year.

By the gospel of God, the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith. You and I have the opportunity to grow in our faith this year. Spiritual, faith growth. Such a noble opportunity. I suspect as we approach these opportunities, we will have to take off the old robe of faith, and don the new robe. How will it fit us? Will there be room for a little growth? Same gospel – same gospel message in our lives – but somehow, as each year comes, it fits just a little differently, doesn’t it.

And I say, “Thanks be to God” for the growth – for trials and difficult circumstances, and for new opportunities.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

From one of the little clans . . .

2006-12-24T14:42:00.000-08:00

Fourth Sunday in Advent

Micah 5:2-5, Luke 1:39-55

I think that, sometimes, God must chuckle at us. At least, I think God smiles at our insistence that anything of worth and note must be large and perhaps even grandiose in scale.

Most of us have been around church and religion long enough to recognize our feeble attempts at conjuring up grandiose displays of our affections for God. In the ecclesiological world, bigger is better. The last couple of decades in American church life have witnessed the rapid rise of the phenomenon known as the “mega-church.” Churches have grown to such huge scale that they purport to be “all things to all people” – boasting initially of gymnasiums and activities buildings, building larger and larger auditoriums, and some churches going to the extent of having deli lunch counters and shopping opportunities, right there within the halls of the church grounds. They offer opportunity, but sometimes, I wonder, opportunity for “what.”

You could turn on the television this evening, and watch a Christmas mass, or worship service, at some remote location of our nation, or perhaps from somewhere across the globe. And if you were to do so, undoubtedly, it would be on a grandiose scale – great pomp, for these circumstances.

We can blame it on God, I suppose. He did send angels to announce the birth of our Christ. But God sent those angels to – shepherds. Lowly shepherds. Young boys, most likely. Perhaps, even, tending the temple flock. We don’t know. And we could blame God for letting Israel talk Him into a king, way back there with Saul. I think that’s when things really started going south as far as mankind seeing God in the small things. From that time on, smallness was the watchword only from the lips of the prophets.

I think when God starts over with us, God does so in smallness.

“But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.” From one of the little clans . . . Not the stuff from which epic stories begin. Nothing grandiose here – small clan – small nation – one of the “unnoticed” groups blessed of God. Or was it so “unnoticed?”

We’re not completely sure of the etymology of the second word Micah uses to describe Bethlehem – the word is Ephrathah. It is most probably an ancient name for the place, but when you go back to the book of Genesis, even then, they used both names. It was the place where Rachel died, more accurately, where she was buried, and at that time, the name of the town was Ephrath. Genesis 48 tells the story where the aged Jacob virtually adopts his grandsons, the sons of Joseph as his own, and in verse 7, recounts his sorrow at the death of the love of his life, Rachel – “Now, as for me, when I came from Paddan, Rachel died, to my sorrow, in the land of Canaan on the journey, when there was still some distance to go to Ephrath; and I buried her there on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem).” I think it’s interesting that even at this early date, both names were being bandied about as descriptive of this holy place.

The name may also refer to one of the twelve tribes. The original twelve tribes came from the sons of Israel, or Jacob. Those sons were Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin. When God assigned the role of priests to the tribe of Levi, the names of the sons of Joseph became the other two tribes – Manasseh and Ephraim. Evidently, the tribe of Ephraim settled in this region just to the south of Jerusalem – Bethlehem.

The town was best known as Bethlehem. The Hebrew word means “house of bread.” This smallish town was just south of Jerusalem, some 5 or 6 miles, and would be described as the hill country to the south. Important biblical references include the story of Naomi and Ruth – Ruth, who gleaned in the field owned by Boaz, her kinsman/redeemer. It is possible that the name “house of bread” came from the fact that they grew significant amounts of wheat in that region.

Bethlehem was also the birthplace of David – Israel’s greatest king, and we suddenly arrive back at that “greatest” concept. The promise from God was that the savior would come from the house and lineage of David. David was Israel’s greatest and most beloved king, and the biblical and societal expectation was that the Messiah would surpass David’s greatness in every way.

The gospel for today is broken into two readings, from the same passage. Luke 1 tells the story where Mary conceives, as does her much older cousin, Elizabeth. Verses 46 – 55 are known as Mary’s “magnificat” – where her soul “magnifies” the Lord. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”

Mary had many good reasons to rejoice, not the least of which was her selection as the mother of God. She was, by any standard, insignificant in that day and age. She was young – we surmise somewhere in her early to mid teens. Her status in that day and age would have been about that of a servant. But she was person enough to recognize the activity of almighty God when she saw it. She’s one up on many of us in that regard.

We can think even smaller again. Later in that same chapter of Luke, Elizabeth’s blessing of her cousin in verse 42 – “. . . Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” The smallness of a child. From conception, a child begins small. Originally, the division of a single cell. People start out small.

Now, Chelsea was never small. She started out larger than her brother was at birth, and she had a significantly larger set of lungs. But Travis – weighed into this world at 6 lbs, 1 oz. Over the next couple of days, lost down to 5 lbs, 7 oz. Three days after his birth, they rushed him to the hospital in Ft. Worth, and when I saw him there the next day, he had become a giant. He dwelled as a giant for 20 days in the land of neo-natology – children smaller than the mind can conceive. I saw one child who could fit in your hand.

But there’s nothing small about the impact of a child. Every child that I have ever heard of disrupts and otherwise discombobulates the home into which they are born. They start out small, but their impact is mighty.

I guess as we think about the smallness of the work of God, at least in its beginnings, it seems somewhat natural that growth occurs. I guess I’m just a little cynical when it reaches the standard we might call “grandiose.”

Now, I have a pastoral word for us, as a church. We mustn’t ever discount our smallness. Often, when I invite people to attend our church, they say the same thing – “You are that little church there, with the cross outside, and the marquee. I love to read your marquee.” Isn’t it funny how something as seemingly insignificant as our decision to put a marquee out front has such a profound impact?

Anyway, people in this town, and I suspect even in the larger community of Baptist churches, think of us as a little church. I think they couldn’t be further from the truth. We are small, yes, in number. But one doesn’t measure the impact of God’s work in the world by numbers. Lord knows, we try. I remember the days when we would attend “Minister’s lunch” on Mondays, and one of the major functions of this activity was to report on what had happened the day before. Those pastors who had a good day were high as a kite, and those pastors who were thinking about resigning that Monday were lower than a snake’s belly. It never made much sense to me, because of the extremes of the day, don’t you know. I’ve long since given up on that ridiculous practice.

No, our contribution is seen in more significant ways. We hand out food to people who can’t afford food. One such fellow stopped in this week, and I gave food to him and his companion. We pay electric bills for people who are out of work, or who have been beset by staggering medical bills. We received a thank you from one such family this week, and I’ve posted it back there on the back window. We gather up our old reading glasses to send with our friend the doctor and his youngest son – you remember, the boy all of us thought we were going to have to shoot, and then tell God we lost him. He’s turned out pretty good. We send our other children off on mission trips to Mexico, and our pastor off to Romania, and another of our laymen on a junket to Juarez. We minister to children, who eventually grow up to the point that they have the audacity to ask this same Christ – the babe of Bethlehem – to come and live in their own hearts.

And we perform myriads of other acts of mystery and service and worship. We gather up resources for those who have less, and we share our journeys of faith with those who are struggling with their own journey. We gather a few hearty souls to practice, that we might sing songs of praise to God the Father. We take our skills at decorating, and we decorate the house of God. We take our gifts of cooking, and we fill the homes of hurting people with the smell of bread, straight from the house of Bethlehem. We do so very much.

Is it enough? We all know the answer to that question. My dad said it well, as he was passing from this life. He said, “Richard, there are never enough days.” Well, Cornerstone, there are never enough acts of service, and ministry, and worship. We know that we can do more, and we shall.

But we must always remember – the genesis of God’s work in us begins small. Hardly even noticeable. Seemingly insignificant. It is up to us to notice, and then nurture the work of God in our midst.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

Joy in the Midst . . .

2006-12-17T13:50:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 12:2-6; Zephaniah 3:14-20; Luke 3:7-18

Advent is something of an anomaly for contemporary Christians – we are moving headfast toward a celebration of our Savior’s birth, and at the same time we are thrust into an opportunity to consider the return of our Lord at the end of the age. Confusing images – parallel themes – prophecy and history intertwined in expectation and mystery – yearning for peace in a season of hope – knowing that joy and love are right around the corner.

The first two weeks of Advent this year have been heavy and burdensome. Part of that comes as a result of my decision to listen to the prophets. This morning we hear from three of them – Isaiah, Zephaniah, and John the Baptizer. They remind us that we are in an “in-between” time – and that we have much work to do as we continue to wait.

I told you last Sunday morning that Susan asked me before the service began if we could “have a little joy around here?” Last week the answer was “not yet.” This week, the answer sounds a little more like “Why not” or “Well, it’s about time, don’t you think?”

I want to put another image in front of us this morning before we dig into the texts. Do you remember the movie “Castaway” from a few years ago? Tom Hanks was the star – played out most of the movie alone. His character was a man named Chuck Noland, an executive with Fed Ex. Suddenly and violently in the early moments of the movie, Noland’s plane is caught in a violent thunderstorm in the South Pacific, and he is marooned on an uncharted island, hundreds of miles off his predicted course. His early efforts on the island are spent discovering if he will be able to survive on the meager resources available. He repeatedly attempts to escape the island by raft, only to be beat back by the tides. The scene shifts forward 4 years, and we realize that Noland is now a man who is no longer waiting for rescue, but is simply in the process of day-to-day survival – and doing so somewhat successfully, with one caveat – psychologically he is a man who has been radically changed by his circumstances and his environment.

I wanted to put that image in front of us this morning in order to suggest to us that our season of Advent should not represent or help facilitate that kind of mindset or scenario in any form or fashion. While Chuck Noland was hopeless, we are people filled with hope. His was a world of rather pointless waiting – ours is a world of active waiting – purposeful waiting.

It has happened to me before during Advent – forgetting some of the truths of the season. This year, I had forgotten to remind us that while we wait, we wait actively. For eschatological believers, waiting is an active pursuit.

I watched a movie the other night that some had suggested I watch – “Glory Road.” Maybe you’ve seen it. It’s the story of Don Haskins, from right here in Enid, who moves into the ranks of Division 1 NCAA Basketball coaching during the mid 1960’s. He took the job at Texas Western out there in El Paso, Texas. He made use of his personal experience to put five black players on the court for the first time in NCAA history, and his gamble paid off with a national championship. During the movie, Haskins works to instill within his new players a sense of discipline and technique that requires they practice the fundamentals of basketball – over and over – until they are chomping at the bit for an opportunity to actually play a game. Many of us who love sports have been through that process – the process of practicing and practicing – waiting for the opportunity to play – knowing that our time is coming – but also knowing that it was not yet. So, while we waited, we prepared.

That was the message of one of our prophetic voices for this morning. John the Baptizer reminded the people who would listen that he was simply the forerunner, and that they should prepare their hearts for the coming of the Messiah. Christ was coming, and soon. He was coming, and they needed to prepare for his coming.

John’s message is one we have heard through this Advent season. We are to prepare. We are to get ourselves ready for the return of our Lord. It’s a simple point, but one that we lose sight of during Advent – Advent is not about getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ – rather, Advent is about preparing the people of God for the return of Christ by remembering what is was like to wait for Him to come the first time. We are not getting ready for His first Advent – we are preparing for His return.

I read somewhere this week a question I had already asked myself – where was the good news that John had to offer? It is exactly and precisely the good news that Jesus was coming. We get bogged down in the rest of His message – the part that calls us to repentance and personal cleansing. But rather than that part of the message being a burden, it should be for us a blessed opportunity for rejoicing.

Most of us decorate our homes for Christmas. Do you think about the process of decorating as you are doing it? We are using symbols of the season to remind us of the meaning of Christmas. A tree that reminds us of new life, and of a cross that has purchased our redemption. Lights, which remind us of the light of the world coming into our very dark world. Gifts which remind us that we have received the eternal gift of God’s Son. So many symbols – so many opportunities to remember God’s good gifts, and the joy that is ours because Christ has come into our lives.

Isaiah introduces the truth of joy into our Advent. Listen to Isaiah again!! “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. And you will say in that day: Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known his deeds among the nations; proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously; let this be known in all the earth. Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.” Joy and praise. Singing and proclamation. Active responses from the people of God, directed toward the promise that God is coming. For contemporary Christian people, additionally active responses that Christ has already come into our midst.

There is even more good news. The prophet Zephaniah reminds us of more good news. “Rejoice and exult with all you heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away the judgments against you . . . you shall fear disaster no more . . . The Lord your God, is in your midst . . . He will renew you in his love.” These are good words of promise – words that should produce within the hearts and lives of believers a symphony of praise and gratitude, expressed in honest joy and gladness.

Friends, it should be easier for us – this side of the first coming of our Lord. We have seen testimony of His presence among us. God is truly in our midst. We have seen evidence of His presence – not just in the lives of others, but in our own lives as well. He is in our midst, and so we should be experiencing joy in our midst.

I know it’s difficult. This past Wednesday, I told the Wednesday evening crowd (and I continue to use that phrase loosely) that nearly everyone I ran into during the early part of the week was having difficulty getting past the business of the season in their efforts to enjoy the season. That saying that’s out there on the marquee – “We are all too blessed to be stressed” – it’s one thing to say something like that – it’s another thing entirely to believe it and to be able to live it out.

This is where the message of the prophets becomes our message. We live in a world where people are stressed. We have a message for them – they can experience the joy of the season – most simply by meeting the Savior of our world, and experiencing His Joy. You and I can tell them – but they want to see if the message is true. They want to know if our lives are more joyful as a result of knowing Christ. We have a message to share, and an obligation to live out that message in our lives.

Years ago, in my counseling work I ran across a book entitled, “Happiness is a Choice.” The premise of the book is stated in the title – in our lives – happiness is a choice. Well, the same is true of joy. Joy is a choice. We choose joy in our lives. But joy is more than a choice – it is also a result of our choice. The abiding nature of joy becomes a continuous statement of our present Christian promise – we are people of joy – most specifically because Christ is present in our midst. We are “present tense” believers – joy is ours – now, and in this present time. We don’t have to wait – it is ours now, for the claiming.

Jan read Paul’s good word to us this morning as we began our service of worship. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

That is our reality – God is in our midst. Christ has come, and the Spirit of God indwells every believer. We are people who have received redemption. We are people who live in a reality of joy, even as we wait for the return of our Lord and Savior.

How great our Joy!!! Amen, and Amen.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

A Not So Clear, Yet Present Danger to our Faith

2006-12-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

Second Sunday in Advent

Micah 2:17 – 3:7

This week I got an earlier start on the sermon than I have been getting lately – walked over to the south office (Starbucks) on Tuesday morning, with just the text and a couple of commentaries, ordered up a cup of the dark roast, and sat down to read for about an hour. It was wonderful – the setting, I mean. Once I delved into the text, I began to immediately feel the polarities of this passage and of the point of the second week into Advent. Let me explain.

Every since I started following the lectionary as a guide to sermon preparation, I have been puzzled and somewhat troubled by this second week, and next week’s subject matter. Here we are in Advent, making preparation for the Christ to come into our world, and we are confronted by His cousin, John the Baptizer. To say that John is rough around the edges is an understatement. Go back and look up his attire and his diet. Let’s just say he wouldn’t be invited to any of the Christmas parties you and I might be attending this year. On thi second Sunday in Advent, the theme we have been considering all morning is “peace” – and we have as our poster child – the wild-haired prophet, John???? Talking about repentance and justice????? That’s how we’re going to get to “peace?”

And if that’s not enough, the Old Testament comes from Malachi. I had been listening to this passage without knowing it each week when I attended “Messiah” rehearsal this past month. One of the choruses we sang was “And He Shall Purify.” Sort of a catchy, toe-tapping kind of tune, with lots of Baroque style vocal arpeggios and minor cadences. The main text of the passage says what is quoted from Malachi, chapter 3, verse 3 – “and he shall purify the sons of Levi . . . so that they may present to the Lord offerings in righteousness.” All the time we were singing that great masterpiece during November and last weekend, I didn’t get it. But Tuesday morning, sitting next door, sipping my cup of coffee, I read the explanation – the sons of Levi were the priests, and this problem that Israel had – God was going to deal with it, but first He was going to purify the sons of Levi – the priests. I started getting kind of an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

I’m not going to deal so much with that part of the passage this morning, so you can relax just a bit. But I tell you all of that to say to you that as uncomfortable as this passage makes us feel, not to mention having to deal with John the Baptizer in order to find this peace that we are searching for – frankly, I’ve been through a lot worse this week, dealing with the reality that God always intends to purify the priests in order to work toward reclamation of God’s people. At least, that’s the way I’m reading Malachi.

Israel was living the good life by the time we first hear from Malachi. The setting of this book comes years after Israel has returned from Babylonian captivity and exile, and even some time after the rebuilding of the Temple. They are a people who can worship and live in relative ease and freedom – as much as any people of that day. Jerusalem, rather than retaining its beauty, was beginning to look disheveled and unkempt. The people of God were lapsing into apathy and indifference regarding the worship of God. I suspect that if you’ve ever heard a sermon from Malachi, it was probably a tithing sermon. And for good reason – the sense of the book deals with the piddling, second rate offerings that the people would give as sacrifices to God.

In his commentary on this passage, Thomas Dozeman says, “The danger to faith that is being explored in this book is indifference and cynicism to the presence of God in the daily routines of the people of God.”[1] But the problem was that the people couldn’t see it – they didn’t see that they were non-challantly distancing themselves from the God of their salvation. With every passing day, and with every mediocre offering of life or sacrifice, they were slipping deeper and deeper into this chasm of indifference.

Whether Christian people feel a heaviness on the tops of their toes when they hear this particular teaching may very well be a factor of their own personal level of dedication to God. It is never okay for the people of God to take the blessings of God for granted. Bu the way, the statement on the north side of the marquee came from this past Tuesday as well. When I made my way back from the south office, a gentleman was making his way into my cubbyhole to request some benevolence assistance. When he and I concluded our business, he stated that he needed to continue to trust God for his care and sustenance in this life, and then he offered this mantra with which he reminds himself daily – “I’m too blessed to be stressed, and I’m too anointed to be disappointed.” I immediately went out and put the first part of that on the marquee. We are all too blessed to be stressed. It’s something we need to remember during the holidays.

Which are, by the way, holy days. During holy days, we offer an additional offering of praise and thanksgiving to God – in all sorts of ways. We give additional tithes, and we offer our worship at an increased clip. It’s what Christian people do in response to the loving care our God has given to us.

Well, enough preaching for a minute. Back to the text. Reread verse 17 of the 2nd chapter with me again. “You have wearied the Lord with your words. You say, ‘How have we wearied Him?’ In that you say, ‘Everyone who does evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and He delights in them,’ or ‘Where is the God of justice?’”

Here’s the scenario – the people of God had become so comfortable with their lives – relaxed in their living – that they had become lax in their worship. In an effort to mentally accommodate this laxity, they conceived in their minds two arguments – in essence two excuses for why it was okay to give God less than their best. First excuse – and you and I have heard many a person offer this same excuse – heavens, we offer it ourselves from time to time – “Since God loves the sinner, we shouldn’t worry about God’s reaction to increased levels of sin in our lives.” Or something like that. That kind of argument puts me in mind of what Paul was dealing with in Romans 6 when he vocalizes the two faux arguments in that chapter – verse 1 of chapter 6 – “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace might increase?” and in verse 15 – “What then? Shall we sin because we are not under law but under grace?” He had an answer to both questions – “May it never be.” That’s the English translation. In the Greek, it was a stronger negative, sounding more like this – “no, not a chance, uh huh, no way, never.” Years later, Dietrich Bonhoeffer dealt with the same kind of thinking in his book entitled “The Cost of Discipleship” in which he spoke of Christianity’s tendency toward “cheap grace.” Even the best of Christian people have a tendency to cheapen the trace of Christ – to take for granted the gifts of God – especially our salvation – saying to themselves, “well since God loves me anyway, what does the way I go about living my life matter.” He called it “cheap grace.” What do you call it?

Their second argument in Malachi was more straight-forward. I rather started to ask it last week in the sermon, and you and I feel this so much of the time. Frankly, I won’t let God off the hook completely for His part of it – the question was, “Where is the God of justice?” You pick up on it with me, don’t you? Where is our God? He’s promised – when will He deliver? When will the Lord send His anointed messenger? When will the Lord send the Savior? In our case, “when will the Lord return in glory?” Those are the questions that waiting believers ask – we wait, in relative patience, but occasionally, our patience wears thin, and we wonder about our God. “Just where is He? Why hasn’t He come? How much longer, O Lord?” In fact, Christian people have adopted the Greek word “Maranatha” as their eschatological mantra, which is most accurately translated, “Come quickly!!”

I wish I had better news about how we, as Christian people, are to move past this last argument. I do wish I had better news. The solution to the problem of waiting – is to wait. We’re not very good at waiting. I don’t know anyone who’s good at waiting. Some are better than others, but I don’t know anyone for whom it is easy.

Well, there you have it. Listen to me carefully, friends. I understand apathy and cynicism in our faith walks. Frankly, I’m ashamed for anything that I’ve done to create an environment which makes any level of apathy and cynicism possible in your lifes. I am quite sure that over these last eight and a half years that in my efforts to be your friend, and preach the love of Christ, that I have both inadvertently and sometimes purposefully communicated to you that something less than full-blown offerings of righteousness were acceptable in the sight of God. I am humbled by my own personal callousness. But I am starting to see the hand of God working in my life to purify – to clean out the dross in my life – and I don’t find any aspect of that process comfortable.

Lest you think that this sermon is a judgment of you as a congregation, let me put you at ease. It is not. This is a message of Hope and Peace. God has already passed judgment on the callousness and apathy and laxity of His people. God has moved on to something far beyond judgment. God has moved on, and always continues to move on toward reclamation. God intends to reclaim God’s people. That will never change. God loves you. I want you to hear that, Cornerstone. God loves you. God claimed you as His own, and God stated God’s own position on your value when God sent Jesus, and the sacrificed Jesus, and then raised Him from the dead. He did every bit of that because He thought you were valuable. Don’t you forget that bit of gospel news. And so, God is always about the business of reclaiming God’s people, and He wants to do that in your lives and in this congregation. It is His intent. It is what He desires to do.

And so, you and I should have no doubt, my dear children, that God will do exactly that – that God will reclaim us in His righteousness – that we might experience eternally the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

[1] Marion Soards, Thomas Dozeman and Kendall McCabe, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Abingdon Press, Nashville, 1994, p.32.

In those days and at that time . . .

2006-12-01T14:50:00.000-08:00

First Sunday in Advent

Jeremiah 33:14-16

I’m completing my 9th year of preaching through the lectionary passages each Sunday, and I noticed that I’ve always done the New Testament passages during Advent. So, this past week, I told the Wednesday night crowd, and I continue to use that term loosely, that I’m going to preach the prophets this Advent – that means Old Testament, and that isn’t easy for me – I’m kind of a gospel guy.

So, we’re in for something of an adventure, you and me. Here’s the way I see it. You and I have heard the Christmas story so very many times – and we’ll hear it again this year – but this year, during Advent, let’s take a look at what it would have been like to wait for the Promised One for the first time. We’ll listen to the prophets – Jeremiah and Malachi and Zephaniah and Micah – ragged and edgy – ready to move us out of our comfort zones in order to find the comfort we so desperately seek. They speak of a promise – a promise that we need to remember. They speak of hope – something that our world is in short supply of. They speak to our future – we get there by looking at our past.

What do you hope for? That may seem like an odd question during the holiday season – we hope for so many things. So let me phrase the question a little differently – the things for which you hope – are they things for which you have hoped for a long time?

Israel was a nation perpetually troubled by her standing in the world community. Some things never change. They were a nation of promise – they weren’t sure of the exact point of the promise, but they were a nation promised greatness. Their greatness would come through a promised Son – the Messiah. He would come out of the lineage of David, who had been their greatest and most loved king.

When we look at our scripture for today, it contains several promises – start with me in verse 15 – (1) in those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David. (2) and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. (3) In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.

These sound like promises given to a nation who was the perpetual underdog – a nation who had taken its fair share of beatings at the hands of other nations. In fact, part of the time that Jeremiah prophesied was during the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem. Jerusalem was eventually overthrown, and Israel was exiled to Babylon for more than a generation. Israel would long for generation after generation to see these promises fulfilled. In fact, they still wait . . .

If this passage of scripture sounds familiar, it should. Jeremiah is actually quoting something written earlier in his book – from back in chapter 23, verses 5 and 6 – which read, “‘Behold, the days are coming,’ declares the Lord ‘When I shall raise up for David a righteous Branch; And He will reign as king and act wisely and do justice and righteousness in the land. In His days Judah will be saved, and Israel will dwell securely; and this is His name by which He will be called, ‘The Lord our righteousness.’’”

It seems that the one thing that can always be said about Israel is that they were a nation of perpetual, permanent promise. Promise which was never fulfilled. As far as they are concerned, promise which still has yet to be fulfilled.

Did you ever have someone promise you something, and then they didn’t come through on their promise? I had a wonderful father. In retrospect, Dad did so many things for us and with us, that the vast, vast majority of my memories are good ones. Isn’t it funny how the bad memories stand out so vividly, though. When I was 12, Dad had promised to take my brother Tony and me fishing. This was a big deal, because Dad didn’t do a lot of fishing – no one ever really took the time to teach him how. So, he didn’t take us very often, I suspect partly because of personal embarrassment at not knowing how to fish successfully. But we were relentless sons, and he had promised us over and over that he would take us, and finally we pinned him down on the occasion. We were really looking forward to this particular trip – sort of a Dad/Son outing. On the morning that we were to go, Dad bent over to pick up Tracy, who was a small infant at the time, and he wrenched his back. Literally fell to the floor. I don’t remember Tony’s response, but I was mad. How could he do something like this to me? In my child’s mind, I was absolutely sure that he had conjured up this phony act just to get out of taking us fishing. My reaction was one of the things I had to apologize for to him in later years . . .

I started us a few minutes ago with verse 15. Back up one verse with me to verse 14. “‘Behold, days are coming,’ declares the Lord, ‘when I will fulfill the good word which I have spoken concerning the house of Israel and the house of Judah.’” It almost sounds as if Jeremiah is quoting God as saying, “Seriously, though – I really will come good on my promise – seriously. It’s getting closer, just you wait. It’s coming. Be patient. I’m good for it, don’t you know . . .” You and I have heard promises like that before, haven’t we? We’ve been promised things, only to listen to more empty promises.

And yet, like the fools that we are, we hold out hope.

Well, I feel like I’ve been grazing, and you’re wondering where I’m going with all of this. So, let me try to focus our thoughts on two or three points.

First, Hope is always focused on something which is in our future. We say, “I hope so . . .” and we are speaking of something that will come to us, in the future. Children hope for Christmas and presents they have been waiting for. Teenagers hope for a car, and to be loved by their beloved. Adults hope their children turn out okay, have good jobs, and are happy in their lives. Others of us hope we can just remember where we put the car keys. But hope is focused on us, and is focused on the future.

When it comes to our salvation, we are somewhat perplexed as Christians. We speak of both ends of the stick – we speak of confident expectation, and yet we know that there is something of a mystery surrounding our salvation – that it is wrapped up somehow in the choice of another – and so we speak of hope in two different voices.

Which leads us to the second point regarding hope – hope is either based on actions we will accomplish for ourselves, or it is based on actions that someone else will pull off. This is true in all of our worldly pursuits. It is true in our relationships – we hope for grace and honesty and realism in our relationships, and that hope is based partly on our doings, and partly on the actions of others. It is true in our work – we are rewarded internally by ourselves for the good work we do, and we are rewarded externally by others for the good work that we do – somewhat subject to the whims of that other person. It depends on us, and it depends on someone else.

When it comes to matters of our salvation, we realize that some of the same conditions exist. There is a sense in which our salvation is dependent on our own purposes and actions. We choose to accept that which has been done for us. God gives us the faith with which to accept His good work in our lives, but we act upon that faith all the same.

You and I realize, however, that most of the work of salvation is on the part of God. Jesus Christ came to this world – we are entering into the time of the year when we celebrate that fact – Christ came into this world to bring salvation to us. Christ lived a righteous and circumspect life in order to show us how to live. Christ died to purchase our redemption – in effect, accomplishing all that needed to be done for our salvation. And Jesus will come again to redeem us in a final, glorious act of salvation. So much of our hope of salvation rests on the actions of our God, who has chosen, in Christ, to redeem us.

So, the third point – our hope is secure because Christ has already come. If we’re counting on someone else for our salvation – in our case, our loving Jesus – how do we really know that we can count on them. I mean, if a part of the reality of hope is knowing that there is the possibility that what we hope for may not happen, what business then do we have putting our faith in a carpenter’s son from Nazareth.

For me – and I think for a lot of us – our hope in the return of Christ in order to complete our salvation is based on the fact of His first coming. Look around you – even the most cynical in our society can tell you that the real meaning of Christmas is that Christ was born. They may not be able to tell you very much more, but they can tell you that much. They may not know another thing about Jesus, but they know that Christmas is the celebration of His birth. Here’s the facts – God promised to send His Son. God did just that. Jesus came to this earth. Jesus promised that He would come back to reclaim us when the time is right. So the question is, can we trust what He has promised?

I’m banking on it. I’ve put all my eggs in His basket.

Just a quick side note to wind things up this morning. I want to ask you a question. I’ll play the part of the aloof prophet here for a moment. What are you, as a church, hoping for? It’s been a long time since we talked about our hopes and dreams for this ministry. Are things going about the way you had hoped? Are there missions and ministries you wish we would tackle, but know that we aren’t quite ready for it, and hope that we will be in the near future? What kind of things are you, as a church family, hoping for?

As we enter into Advent, we enter into hope. Faith started us out this morning with a reading about Hope. We have listened to scriptures and hymns and prayers which speak to our hopes. We can trust God to be the source for the answers to our hopes. We can trust our God, and His Son, Jesus. We hope, again, for Him.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

Ruler of the Kings of the World

2006-11-26T10:27:00.000-08:00

Christ the King

John 18:33-37

The problem of having to come up with my title every week for the paper is, of course, that there is so much that happens from the time I come up with a title until the sermon is finished – and the sermon isn’t finished until it is preached. The sermon title has to be called into the paper on Wednesday, and on weeks like this one – where not much gets done until really late in the week – the sermon changes quite a bit.

Early this week, I was impressed by the passage from Revelation that Mike read for us a while ago – especially that part of the passage that says “ruler of the kings of the earth.” That phrase was selected as the title, and my early direction sought to juxtapose the reign of Christ to that of David and of Pilate.

We know much about David – certainly the scriptures are full of his story. He was the second King of Israel, following Saul. He was the most beloved King of Israel, and the one to whom Israel looked back as their prototype of what a King should be. David was not without faults – his kids were a mess, he was involved in a scandalous liaison with Bathsheba, and in an attempt to cover up his sin, he had her husband, Uriah, murdered. Despite all of his failing, though, he was loved by his people, and the scriptures tell us that God loved him and that he loved God with his whole heart.

David was a poet, and we have many of the writings of David – from several stages of his life – in our biblical book called Psalms. In this church, we read from the Psalms every week – and for good reason. They are our book, because they speak of and to our needs, our passions, and our hopes. It is an earthy book, taking every opportunity to suggest that matters of the heart and the head go hand in hand.

Of course, Pilate wasn’t a king. Pilate was the Fifth procurator of Judea (AD 26-36). A procurator was much like an old fashioned governor – he did not rule, except on behalf of another. He ruled that region of the world on behalf of Caesar. We don’t know as much about Pilate as we do about David. Pilate was evidently something of a troubled soul – he sought power and prestige, only to discover that the power he sought came with countless associated problems, and that there was not a commiserate level of prestige associated with the little power he had. Pilate was the person who officially condemned Jesus to death – and attempting to not look like he was responsible by washing his hands of the matter – literally!!

It is an interesting contrast – these two rulers, in comparison to Jesus. David and Pilate were substantial figures in Christian history, but their individual contributions, so to speak, were miniscule in comparison to what Jesus accomplished.

Who is our Jesus? This time last year, I had more answers than questions. Not any more. Earlier this fall, I attended a pastor’s conference over in Missouri. Will Willimon was the guest speaker. I had been looking forward to listening to Willimon for many years, and this opportunity was in the midst of friends retreating together on the Lake of the Ozarks. It was a wonderful week. Then, I got home, and something that Willimon pointed out started to bother me. In His teaching, he referenced the Marcan story of Jesus walking on the water, and he quoted Mark as saying, “And seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, at about the fourth watch of the night, He came to them, walking on the sea; and He intended to pass by them.” I started pondering that verse, especially that phrase, “He intended to pass by them.” The longer I pondered it, the more troubled I became. I narrowed down my troubled nature to one of two things – either we’re presented with Mark’s opinion of what Jesus was doing, or I don’t understand a thing about who Jesus is. I’m either confronted with a troubled opinion from one of His closest followers, or I’m presented with a picture of a Jesus who would walk right past His closest friends when they were in their hour of need, and that’s not the Jesus I’ve been taught about all these years.

To be candid with you, I’ve not resolved my crisis. I’ve started seeing things in the scriptures for the way they are stated, not for the way others have interpreted them for me in years gone by, and often there isn’t a ready explanation. Moreover, I’m terribly troubled by the fact that my calling is to explain to you a God that I don’t quite understand right now. About the best I can do at present is to tell you what the others have said, and what I happen to think about the matter.

For example, this week in my study, I ran across a poem by H. Mel Malton, entitled “Sunday School Curriculum: Gentle Jesus.” She speaks to my present state of confusion.

You think he’s meek?

You haven’t seen him hoist a beam of wood

Or sink a spike, then.

Power fit to burst beneath the

taut bronze skin

that barely holds him in.

There’s seldom softness in a carpenter.

It’s true he can be gentle.

He’ll lift a baby to his shoulders in a crowd

with hands all velveted like lion’s paws,

but don’t mistake that loving man

for someone tame.

We’ve seen him blast a tree with temper,

toss a table weighted down with gold

across a temple pavement with a roar

that scattered us.

You think he’s mild?

If he is water, he’s a strong and heady brew

that satisfies with sips.

If he is bread, do not expect him all refined

and pale and palace-palate-sweet.

He’s nourishing, but tough.

And when he lifts that sharp

chin skywards,

laughing at some joke of John’s,

when those lips form Father,

whisper benedictions cobweb-soft on

leprous flesh,

when all the ragged band hangs breathless

on his truly, truly –

when he’s skewered,

retching vinegar in agony,

oh never think it is his nature

to submit to earthly rule.

This man’s a rebel, dangerous and perfect.

Never paint him in a royal robe.

His garment’s stiff with living,

fingernails dark with tearing fish into a

thousand morsels,

feet trod filthy, oiled with tears,

then caked again.

This man’s no mendicant;

three year’s slog with outcast rabble

never offered silver till the last.

You think he sits with sheep and crook?

Perhaps to beat back wolves but not

to pose for windows.

He is blood and flesh
and gut and sinew,
teeth and hair and sweat and bone.
Spirkt-soaked an dGod-begotten,
God loved messenger and master of us all.
Jesus is meek?
And fire is ice
and we are doomed to dust. 1

I don’t know that I know Jesus well enough to tell you Who He is. I feel a little like the seminary student taking his final in Systematic Theology, who looked at the first and only test question, which read, “Explain God. Give three examples.” I’m pretty sure I can’t explain God, but I have thought of three examples this morning.

This is Christ the King Sunday. It is the end of this Christian year – next week we begin Advent as we start our long trek toward Easter morning. But today is Christ the King Sunday, when our scriptures lead us to examine the rule of Christ in our lives. We learn by looking at the lives of David and Pilate – perhaps you are more like one of those guys than you’d like to admit.

Jesus is King. He is king over all that exists, as He helped breathe life into all that is. He is ruler over all others who rule, in whatever small way they might influence humankind’s story.

And He is King over your life.

I’ll give you three examples. They are just examples – this is not an exhaustive list. Christ is King over every aspect of your life – these are only three examples.

Our study from the gospels this year has come from the book of Mark. I used to tell people that Matthew was a gospel written for the Jews, Luke for the Gentiles, and Mark for the Romans. This year, I started thinking that was somewhat redundant – Romans were certainly gentile. So what was the difference in Mark’s gospel? Mark speaks to power. Mark speaks to power in all of its forms. Mark speaks to the powers that lord over our lives, and Mark speaks to power resident in our lives. In the telling of our gospel story for this morning, Mark reminds us that Jesus is King over the power you seek and possess in your life.

When we examine this scene, we might at first think that Pilate is in charge. Read it again. Nothing is happening that Jesus has not ordained should happen. The choice of Jesus to give up His life for us was exactly that – a choice.

From the moment we are born, we seek the autonomy of power. We learn to walk, to feed ourselves, to determine our own destiny. We turn 16, and we seek the keys to a car. We choose our vocation, our mate, we have some say in how many children live in our homes, and we determine where we live. The longer I live, the less I seem to have power over. When we stop to think about it, we are confronted with a truth – Jesus is king over our power. What power we possess, be it great or small – Jesus rules over our power.

Jesus also rules over our freedom. There is certainly a link between power and freedom. As American people, wealthy and self-determining, we are people captivated by the concept of freedom. Those 16 year old car keys we seek – they represent freedom as much as they do the power over our own lives. We virtually worship freedom, as American Christians. And we practice our freedom – to choose, to act, to acquire, to invest, to sustain, to learn – our freedoms are as varied as are our people. But the truth of the matter is this – Christ is King, and Christ is King over our freedom.

As there is a link between power and freedom, there is a link between freedom and truth. Jesus said, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Pilate asked the question for all of us – “What is truth?” That question is the second ultimate question of modern philosophy – what is truth?

You and I think we have an answer to that question. If we are really honest with ourselves, we would admit that we think truth is that which we have come to know. We know that others know things – truths, as it were – but we really think that truth is those things which we have come to know. Truth is personalized, resident in personal experience, viewed through personal insight.

Willimon has a statement on the matter. “The truth, as Christians know, is that the unexplorable, indefinable, ultimate cause of the universe is the author of life, the inventor of love, and the giver of every grace.” 2 I’ll put it slightly differently – all of life’s truths, small “t”, are found in the greatest truth, capital “T”, Jesus Christ Himself. Christ is King over our truth.

Next weekend, the Enid Symphony and Chorus are going to perform Handel’s Messiah. One of the final numbers, of course, in that great musical work, is the Hallelujah Chorus. The text for that chorus is quite simple. Five simple phrases.

“Hallelujah.”

“For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.”

“The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ.”

“And he shall reign for ever and ever.”

“King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.”

That’s it – those are all the words – well, in a wonderful variety of combinations.

I have questions for us this morning. Christ is King over your life, but I have questions. Is He King of Kings, and Lord of Lords over your life? Are there areas of power and freedom and truth in your life over which you don’t want Him to rule? What will you do this year to exalt Him in your life?

Christ is King. Christ is King over the rulers of this world, and He is King over your life. Let us worship Him with our whole hearts – as we serve Him with our entire lives.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

1 H. Mel Melton, "Sunday School Curriculum: Gentle Jesus", Behold: Arts for the Church Year, Pentecost 2 2006 (Year B) Logos Productions, INc. Inver Grove Heights, Minnesota, p. 7. (Permission given by the author)

2 Will Willimon, "What is Truth?", Pulpit Resource, Vol. 34, No. 4., p.39.

My 2 Cents

2006-11-12T09:42:00.000-08:00

23rd Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 12:38-44

Jesus noticed her. He pointed her out – to His disciples – and to us. He thought she had some things to teach us. Maybe we ought to listen.

She doesn’t get much of a headline. The sentence is brief by biblical standards. “A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.” But Jesus noticed her, and He pointed her out to all of His disciples, and that includes you and me.

Her actions seemed so extravagant. Mark tells us that she was a “poor widow.” I wonder how he knew. Did they know her? Did they interview her after Jesus pointed her out? Was it obvious from her dress and her demeanor?

I was listening to a debate – well, really an argument on one of the evening talk shows Friday night. Post-election rhetoric, don’t you know. One man said, “I’d like for the Democrats to tell us just who qualifies as ‘rich’.” It was an interesting debate about the possibility of roll backs on the tax cuts we have seen over the past years, and the sense of the argument was in defining just who the “rich” were. Well, I’ll tell you this – we may not be able to make that distinction very easily, but the poor know who they are.

This woman was poor. The bible has a lot to say about poverty and poor people. Jesus said that we would always have the poor among us. He wasn’t wrong. In 2002, the United States government estimated that 12.1 percent of the people in our nation live in poverty. For those under the age of 18, that number is higher – 16.7 percent. America is one of the wealthiest nations in the world. Globally, the problem of poverty is much greater. It is estimated that 1 out of 6 people in this world do not have enough to eat. That’s 1 out of 6. 40,000 people around our world die each day from hunger. Poverty is with us, and by every measurement, it is increasing.

Some of us have seen this kind of poverty. Larry, Jan and I have seen the really poor in Juarez. People who live in cardboard houses in the old city dump – men who work at the Adidas factory for the equivalent of $5 a day – many of them stop off and drink that away before it ever reaches their families. Mike Pontious has seen the face of poverty in Jamaica. He said a few things about that last week to us. I suspect I will see the face of poverty in Romania when I visit there in January. Others of us face the poverty problem in our own community – a little closer to home. Poverty doesn’t go away when we ignore it. It has a way of presenting itself, right in front of our eyes, at the most conspicuous of places – like the temple treasury.

Or yesterday’s mail – while I was in the middle of writing this sermon, I remembered that I hadn’t checked the answering machine or the mail since I got back in town. We received this letter in the mail – it’s addressed to you – I opened it, but it has your name on the address line. READ LETTER. I don’t know how he got our name, or why he thought we had the resources to help them. I wonder what we should do with mail like this?

You know, out of your generosity, we are able to help some of the poor in our town. For the years that we have been in existence, we have put in place the “Pastor’s Benevolence Fund,” which you graciously allow me to administrate in helping the poor of our town. Over the years we have helped hundreds. There are so many more we could help with additional funds. On average, we receive about $50 a week, and that amount is usually gone by the end of business on Monday. I wish we could do more.

My sister’s church does an interesting thing. For fifteen years now, they have done this thing – each week, in their service of worship, some member gives the “$50 report.” In their congregation, a different member each week is responsible for taking $50 from the treasury and using it in some benevolent manner, and then reporting back to the church how that money was used. They might use it to buy school supplies, or help with a medical bill, or put gas in someone’s car. It is a wonderful ministry – it serves to keep charity in front of the congregation, and it reminds them that serving others is everyone’s responsibility. I wonder if we could do something like that?

She was a widow. That’s not all that unusual – most of us, if we live long enough, will find the loneliness that accompanies the loss of a spouse at the end of life. This woman was alone, and in that society, that meant that you were relatively unnoticed. She was on her own – no children mentioned, no relatives – she was alone. She had no one to rely upon, save God. Her story reminds me a little of the story of Ruth, who when her husband died, had no one except her mother-in-law. She eventually was noticed by Boaz, who was her kinsman Redeemer. There are obvious parallels between the two stories.

Jesus noticed this woman. How could He not notice this kind of extravagance? She gave little, but it was all she had. We know that because Jesus said so – “she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

You know, you and I might have noticed her for a different reason. We might have noticed her for the foolishness of her actions. Here she gave away all that she had – how foolish is that? You and I might call that kind of action foolish. And we might have something to say about her emotionality in the matter. Obviously, only an emotional, overly sensitive person would do something like that!! Give away all that she had – REALLY!!

Jesus noticed her. He pointed her out – to His disciples – and to us. He thought she had some things to teach us. Maybe we ought to listen. So, perhaps a few lessons.

Lesson 1 - Maybe being emotionally involved in our faith isn’t such a bad thing. Will Willimon says that “those of us who practice a more moderate, balanced form of Christianity, for whom religious faith is a matter of reasoned deliberation and cautious examination, are judged by the testimony of this anonymous widow.”[1] Contemporary Christians have a tendency to separate their daily living from their faith. That practice insulates daily actions from things like emotion and extravagance and reckless self-denial. It protects us from the possibility of seeing our life-style change on account of our faith.

Lesson 2 – comparative giving may be deceptive. You’ll notice that I didn’t focus on the first part of the scripture for this day. I don’t think our congregation has a problem in this area. I don’t know of a person in this congregation who has ever given out of their pomposity. For that matter, I don’t know any of us who serve in any capacity out of our pomposity. That was the problem Jesus was identifying in looking at the scribes of that day – they loved to be identified – for what they had and what they did. We don’t have that problem. If we did have this problem, that part of the scriptures would have spoken to us. What we can take from this point is that what we have to give – in offerings, in talents, in time – is important. It is not the size of the gift that counts – it is the scope. She gave all.

That’s the problem with the scriptures – it challenges us with little things, and little words – like the word “all.” And I guess it all depends on what your definition of the word “all” is. For some, “all” means more than for others. I’ll tell you what it means for me, and you see if this sounds anything like your definition. First of all, “all”, for me, is a term best measured in longevity. When I think of giving my all, I think of measured, consistent giving over the period of my life. I don’t want to expend too much energy at this particular point in time, because it might mean that I won’t be able to do as much in the future. Second, “all”, to me, is compared to my other pursuits in life. I’ll gladly give all – as long as it doesn’t cost me everything. And third – “all” shouldn’t be too difficult. For example, I’ll do all I need to do to get the physique I want – as long as I don’t have to put out too much effort.

On this Veteran’s Day weekend, I am impressed by the story of Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham. He is the soldier who, in April of 2004, threw himself on a grenade in a small Iraqi town in a selfless act of bravery which saved his comrades from injury and possibly death. He would have turned 25 this past Friday. I think his definition of “all” was a bit different than mine.

Lesson 3 – and this point comes from the sermon title. You know that on our Channel 9, Kelly Ogle does a periodic commentary called “My 2 Cent’s Worth.” His point, and one of the points Jesus was trying to make by singling out this woman, is that our “2 cents worth” matters – it counts. Hers did. Yours does. And I’m not just speaking of money, although that’s important. And I’m not just speaking of talents, and time. I’m talking about your general contribution to Christ, His Church, and to His Kingdom. It’s intangible, really - until you give it – until you put in your two cents. And every person’s two cents is important and unique. In the eyes of Jesus, you aren’t unnoticed, or unimportant. Your contribution to the kingdom is important. Every person’s two cents is important and unique.

Hers was. At least – Jesus noticed it.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Will Willimon, Pulpit Resource, Vol. 34, No. 4, p.30

A Gospel of Prosperity?

2006-10-29T09:35:00.000-08:00

Randall L. Ridenour, Guest Speaker
21st Sunday after Pentecost

We can learn a lot about the deepest human desires by knowing what people pray for. I don’t mean the prayers that we say in church, because, to be honest, we are often more worried about how they will sound than how they express our deepest needs.
So, if you want to know what the deep desires of humans are, listen to the prayers of those that don’t care about impressing the people who hear them. That is, listen to the prayers of children.

I, like everyone else, occasionally get those e-mails from well-intentioned friends that begin, “I usually don’t forward e-mails, but this is just too good. . . ” Most of the time, they really aren’t that good, but this one was. It was a collection of cards supposedly written to God from children. Here are some samples:

Dear God,
It rained for our whole vacation and is my father mad! He said some things about you that people are not supposed to say, but I hope you will not hurt him in anyway.
Your Friend (but I am not going to tell you who I am)

Dear God,
If we come back as something, please don’t let me be Jennifer Horton, because I hate her.
Denise

Dear God,
I bet it is very hard for you to love all the people in the world. There are only four people in our family and I can never do it.
Nan

Dear God,
My brothers told me about being born, but it doesn’t sound right. They are just kidding, aren’t they?
Marsha

Dear God,
Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other so much if they had their own rooms. It works with my brother.
Larry

Dear God,
Thank you for my baby brother, but what I prayed for was a puppy.
Joyce

Dear God,
Please send me a pony. I never asked for anything before. You can look it up.
Bruce

We can divide these prayers into two categories. First, the ones that deal with relationship issues among family, friends, or, in the case of Jennifer Horton, enemies. The second category is prayers for material blessings. Joyce is thankful, but she would have been more thankful had God been considerate enough to give her what she actually asked for. Bruce, on the other hand, has showed great self-control in the past, and given his remarkable self-constraint, feels that he is owed that pony.

And why not? Hasn’t God promised to give us what we ask for? In Jesus’ own words, “Ask and ye shall receive,” or as we hear in the classic stewardship sermon, “Give and it shall be given to you. A good measure, shaken together, running over. . . Surely God wants his people to be happy. We read the testimony of Scripture, God wants to bless his people. The lectionary Psalm for today is Psalm 34: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me. . . O taste and see that the Lord is good.”

What better testimony could there be to the power of the Gospel than the blessings poured upon the people of God? Wasn’t Job rewarded at the end of the book by having family restored, and possessions doubled? The Prosperity Gospel This attitude can be found in an old, but ever-growing, tradition in the church. It is known by various names: the prosperity gospel, positive confession, the word of faith movement, or simply “faith.” Those of us who are a bit more cynical call it the name it-claim it movement. It’s had several leaders in the past few decades, including Paul and Jan Crouch, owners of Trinity Broadcasting Network, Kenneth Hagin, Robert Tilton, Kenneth Copeland, Paul Yonggi Cho, and others. Their claim is that through faith, we can have anything we want— health, wealth, and success. To gain these things, we simply have to ask for them by the spoken word.

In his booklet How to Write Your Own Ticket with God, Kenneth Hagin claimed to have been told this in a vision by Jesus himself, “Then the Lord Jesus Himself appeared to me,” said Hagin and and instructed him to write down a simple four-step formula, and that “if anybody, anywhere, will take these four steps or put these four principles into operation, he will always receive whatever he wants from Me or from God the Father.” That includes whatever you want. The formula is simply: ”Say it, Do it, Receive it, and Tell it.”

According to Kenneth Copeland, “All it takes is 1) Seeing or visualizing whatever you need, whether physical or financial; 2) Staking your claim on Scripture; and 3) Speaking it into existence.” Are people listening to this? Is it possible for anyone to take these teachings seriously? It seems so, and I think you can find it in the teachings of Joel Osteen, the now best-selling author and popular pastor of Lakewood Church, which meets in the 18,000 seat Compaq Center in Houston. Note a few of his sermon titles:
• Enlarge Your Vision
• Holding Onto Your Dreams
• Financial Prosperity
• Faith to Change Your World Do All You Can to Make Your Dreams Come True

The word “Gospel” is the word used in place of a Greek term meaning “good message” or “good news.” The prosperity gospel is certainly good news to those who hear it, otherwise Lakewood Church would not have baptized 18,000 people last year. So, it is good news, but is it the good news of Jesus Christ?

If the prosperity gospel is true, and I could have anything I asked for, then after reading the gospels, I’m not sure that I would ask for wealth. Jesus’ teachings on wealth are anything but comforting.

In first-century Palestine, there were two groups of people, the rich and the poor. These major groups were composed of several sub-groups. The rich included the four high-priestly clans. They gained wealth from the offerings presented in the temple and controlled the extensive commercial activities associated with temple life.

Another group was the family and associates of Herod. Herod and his family, by some estimates, owned more than half of the land that was under his control.

Other wealthy people included what remained of the older Jewish aristocracy and rich merchants. To be considered truly wealthy, a person had to own land. So, as these people became wealthy, they would buy land, but would rarely farm it themselves. Instead, he would rent it to tenant farmers, while he lived and conducted his affairs in the city, primarily Jerusalem. Hence the parables about tenant workers and absent landlords. This system led to a practice of abuse of tenant farmers and laborers, but was considered perfectly legal by the wealthy. This practice in turn led to constantly increasing resentment of the wealthy merchants, and it is no surprise that one of the first things to occur during the Jewish revolt in the late 60’s was to burn the debt records and kill many of the aristocrats.

Of the people who were not wealthy, the best-off was clearly the small landowner. Palestine essentially had an agricultural economy outside the city, and the primary source of income was farming, which required land. So, those who owned some land were clearly better off than those who owned none. The problem is that those who owned land were always only two years away from financial ruin. After one bad crop, the farmer had to borrow money to purchase seed for the next year. If next year’s crop also failed, then he would lose his land to pay his debt. We know from records that the first-century had several bad droughts, so more and more land became concentrated in the hands of fewer and fewer wealthy people.

The ones in the worst position were obviously those who owned no land at all, including tenant workers, laborers, and beggars. The poor lived on the brink even in the best of times. There were Roman taxes to pay, Pharasaic interpretations of the Law prescribed a tithe that ranged from seventeen to twenty-three percent of gross income. This put the poor in the position of a choice between religious piety and feeding one’s family.

This is the world into which Jesus comes. He is the son of a carpenter who neither inherited land nor acquired any himself. He took a special interest in the poor, the outcasts, and those on the fringes of Jewish society.

He never viewed possessions as inherently evil, but neither did he see wealth as something safe. It is something that easily becomes dangerous. It can function exactly like the idols in ancient Hebrew culture, it seduces the people away from total devotion to God. In the parable of the Sower in Mark 4.18-19, it is the deceit of wealth and the desires for other things that chokes the word.

In fact, surprisingly, one should not see wealth as a mark of God’s favor! It makes it difficult to enter the kingdom! Hence, the story of the rich young man ends with the claim “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” Since the former is impossible, it implies that the latter is also impossible. The disciples are shocked, and ask, then how can anyone be saved. Jesus assures them that all things are possible with God.

Luke follows this same story with the story of Zacchaeus. The impossible does take place, Zacchaeus is saved, but he is not left rich. After Zacchaeus announced that he would give half his possessions to the poor and repay anyone that he has defrauded fourfold, Jesus proclaimed that now salvation had come to this house.

We misunderstand the teaching of Jesus when we think he is simply telling us to
keep wealth and possessions in their proper place, and giving God his proper due. The danger is that both God and mammon demand our service. Wealth must be preserved, one’s daily bread must be earned. Jesus rejects that there is no proper service to mammon: it is impossible to serve both money and God.

Jesus makes this point explicitly in the parable of the rich fool who has a bumper crop and decides now to take life easy, relax, eat, drink, and be merry. He has arrived, he has reached the American dream. He has attained the position that everyone would want. He has made it. But something is wrong. Most translations say something like, “You fool, this very night your soul is demanded of you.”

The implication, then, is that he will die that night. What’s the moral of the story? Don’t save? Spend it while you can?

My colleague, Dr. Bobby Kelly, who teaches New Testament Greek, pointed out to me that the Greek text is not passive voice, but active voice, with a plural subject. So, the translation should read, “You fool, this very night they demand your soul from you.” What demands his soul? It can only be the riches themselves. Both God and wealth make the same demands, only one can be satisfied.

What then is the solution? Is Jesus calling us to give up our wealth? I have no doubt that Jesus is clearly calling us to give up some of it. I also have no doubt that Jesus is demanding that we be prepared to give up all of it. To even be prepared to take such radical action requires radical commitment on the part of the disciple. How is it possible? Only because of radical trust in God. “Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you.” Those who are convinced that their heavenly Father will indeed care for them are able to give freely. Those who are not convinced that God will care for them will need to ensure for their own security by serving Mammon.

The prosperity gospel has turned the gospel upside down. It is not that we should trust God so that God can further enrich us, but we should trust God so that we will be able to enrich others. The world that Jesus entered was a world of social dichotomies, rich and poor, male and female, slave and free, all instances of one basic distinction: the powerful and the powerless. Jesus came to usher in a new kingdom, a kingdom that breaks down barriers, a kingdom that rights social wrongs, a kingdom that values those that the world decrees to be worthless. In his own words, he came to “bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed to go free.” Yet after nearly 2,000 years of Christianity, our world looks much like the world of first-century Palestine.

October 31 is Reformation Day, a important day of remembrance in some Christian denominations, although not often noted by Baptists. On that date in 1517, Martin Luther nailed the 95 theses on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. Robert McAfee Brown, in his book, Spirituality and Liberation records a similar event. On June 16, 1985, pastors around the country read from their pulpits a statement acknowledging that these are troubled times and calling for prayer and action. A simple call to prayer, created an unbelievable furor, upset the social order, and was called an act of treason.

The country was South Africa, and the date was the ninth anniversary of the Soweto Uprising, when government troops entered Johannesburg and opened fire on black children. The statement read, in part,

“We now pray that God will replace the present unjust structures of oppression with ones that are just, and remove from power those who persist in defying his laws, installing in their places leaders who will govern with justice and mercy. . . The present regime, together with its structures of domination, stands in contradiction to the Christian gospel to which the churches of the land seek to remain faithful. . .

We pray that God in his grace may remove from his people the tyrannical structures of oppression and the present rulers in our country who persistently refuse to hear the cry for justice. . .

We pledge ourselves to work for that day.”

True Christianity is never a means of seeking one’s own prosperity and comfort. Instead, true Christianity is subversive, unsettling, and upsetting. In this, the prosperity gospel is simply another heresy.

On the other hand, there is something that the preachers of the prosperity gospel have right. The lesson of the blind man is that God asks us the same question that he asked him: “What do you want from me?” The blind man knew what he wanted from Jesus, and he knew that Jesus could give him what he deeply desired. How did he respond? Mark said that he followed Jesus on “the way” the term used for discipleship in the Gospels. The way does not always lead to prosperity. For Jesus and his followers, the way lead to Jerusalem and the cross. But the way, is the way of the disciple, as Jesus said, if any of us want to truly be his follower, we must deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow him.

The Hard Side of Discipleship

2006-10-22T12:55:00.000-07:00

20th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:35-45

In teaching this class this fall out at NOC, I have discovered, present in the minds of adult students, two attitudes related to test taking, one of which reminded me of a childlike perspective, and the other of which sounds like early adolescence. Administration wanted us to assess learning about every two weeks, so in our third week of class, I gave them their first quiz. The class session before the quiz, you would have thought we were in third grade – “Can you tell us what part of the book we need to study for the quiz? Can you tell us what kinds of questions are going to be on the quiz?” I reminded them that they were adults, and that they were expected to know everything that was in the book for the first two chapters. They were somewhat aghast. Then, in grading the first quiz, I noticed the second attitude – the course I am teaching is called “Social Problems,” and one might expect that coming from the field of Sociology, things might come from a little more of a liberal perspective, and that the tests would require the students to submit answers that pointed out that they understood – not agreed with, but understood – that particular perspective. I had cautioned them about this, but several of the students chose to stubbornly hold to their rather conservative opinions in answering the test questions, and subsequently, their answers were incorrect. They did a little better on the next test . . .

I tell that little story to help us get an opening perspective on the gospel story for this day – a story which reminds us that as we progress from childlike faith into a more substantive adult faith, there are things that change for us, even while there are things that remain much the same.

There are four questions asked in quick succession at the start of our pericope for this morning. The Sons of Thunder – James and John, the rowdy ones – come to Jesus with an initial question. You know, it’s always interesting to me how each of the gospel writers deal with each of these stories – in this particular case, Luke deals with just the last part of our story, John doesn’t deal with it at all, and Matthew actually has the mother of the sons of Zebedee showing up with this question. Only Mark tells this as though the idea was original with James and John. Anyway, they ask their first question – and it sooooo sounds like children asking their parents for a favor, knowing that there’s very little chance that they will say “yes.” “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

Do you remember when you were a child? Perhaps you had siblings, perhaps you didn’t. I have two brothers and a sister. For the longest time, it was really just the two brothers, and one of those is near my age. When we were younger, we would desire certain things, and so we would approach one or the other of our parents with our request. As we matured, we learned which parent was more likely to answer “yes” and so our choosing which parent to ask took on a bit of adolescent sophistication. We also learned how to frame questions so that our idea sounded like a good idea. I suspect this is a rather universal childhood experience. This whole exchange between the Sons of Thunder and Jesus starts out that way – like little children going to their parent, asking for something they know won’t happen.

That’s where most of us started in our faith experiences. We began as children. That’s not a bad thing – in fact, Christ said at one point in His teaching ministry something to the effect of “anyone who comes to me must come as a little child.” We have looked at that scripture relatively recently, and been reminded that when we come to Christ, we come with the full blown trust that is found in most children – trust that counts on those who know more than they know to tell them the things they need to know – trust that believes that those who love them want only the best for them – trust that doesn’t see other alternatives – only hopes for the possibilities that can be offered by the person in whom they trust.

Jesus surprises them. He certainly surprises me. “What is it you want me to do for you?” He actually plays along with them – for the time being. Maybe He wanted to know how their faith journey was progressing. Maybe He wanted to know what goofy idea they had come up with now!! We really don’t know – but He opened the door a crack, just to see what they were up to. He didn’t answer “yes” or “no” – He just let them go on with their ploy . . .

Maybe we are a little surprised that Jesus wants to know what we want. When we take a moment to step back and look at this relationship – you know, God to man – we may be a little surprised that God wants to know what we want in the deal. We speak of God’s will – we talk about it as though there is only one possibility in our lives for every situation in life, and God knows what God wants for our lives, and we have the responsibility to discern the will of God – almost as if it were a mystery that God wants to keep hidden from us. So when we hear the Son of God ask us what we want, we may be taken back a little – we may be just a little surprised.

Well, here was their question (their mother’s question, if you take Matthew’s word for it) - “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” Wow. Even Jesus was taken back. Talk about bravado!! That’s some request. “When you come into your kingdom, we’d like to be your left and right hand men – men of power – men of prestige – men of notoriety – men of whom other men stop and take notice. We want to be people to be reckoned with – people noticed for who we are, and not so much for what we’ve done. Besides, we deserve that kind of recognition – don’t you think, Jesus?? You’ve kind of picked us out as your friends, haven’t you? We’re a part of the Big Three – I mean, if you actually count Simon Peter!!” (I find it somewhat fascinating that Simon Peter isn’t in on this conversation, at least not at this point).

Do you have that kind of bravado in the presence of God? We are, after all, speaking of the Son of God, depicted by the writer of Hebrews as our very high priest, but not just any old high priest – rather, a high priest on the order of Melchizedek!! A High Priest, mind you, Who did not catapult Himself to this position of prominence – no, rather was exalted and appointed to this position of Eternal High Priest for all of us by His Father, God the Father, Father of us all. Not chosen from among mortals, the scriptures tell us, but appointed from the heavens for our eternal benefit. We do realize that this is the Jesus of Whom we speak?

Job, representative of everyman, had this kind of bravado. We hear about the patience of Job – that’s the way people speak of him – the patience of Job. Go back and read the book. He’s certainly patient – for a few chapters. But finally, the advice of his friends starts to pay off, and Job starts to question God. He speaks of his own integrity, his own righteousness, and come chapter 32, the friends realize that they’ve awakened something ugly in Job. The 1st verse of chapter 32 says that “these three men ceased answering Job, because he was righteous in his own eyes.” For most of us that’s the problem with dealing with the Almighty – we eventually start to sing our own praises – we eventually begin to identify our own righteousness. Come chapter 38, God speaks back – “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Now gird up your loins like a man, and I will ask you and you instruct Me!” I don’t know about you but I don’t want to hear God speak to me that way. Sometimes, God does. Sometimes God speaks to each of us that way.

Just a couple of other verses from the gospel, and then I’ll try to wind this thing up. Jesus looks beyond His own amazement at them for their request, and in a moment of extreme compassion, asks them if they know what they’re asking for. With more bravado, they answer in the affirmative, and at that point, Jesus goes ahead with His prediction for them. Earlier in the week, I started to entitle this sermon “Be Careful What You Ask For.” Jesus actually predicts that they will receive “exactly” what they ask for – that they will indeed receive and drink the cup of suffering that He is about to undergo when He enters Jerusalem. I found Fox’s “Book of Martyrs” on the internet the other day – the text from the first chapter indicates the kind of death by which every disciple was martyred. James was supposedly the first to die – beheaded under the rule of Herod Agrippa. John escaped being boiled alive in oil, only to be recaptured and exiled to Patmos, where he lived out the remainder of his days. They did drink the cup that Jesus was going to drink – not what they asked for, and certainly not what they were expecting.

The other ten disciples were annoyed with James and John, and I think a little with Jesus for putting up with their shenanigans and their questions. Jesus picked up immediately on their displeasure, and offered to them, and I think to us, our lesson for this day.

I think it is a two-fold lesson. The first is case specific – by that, I mean that when it comes to issues such as prominence and recognition and accolades and reward, we’re barking up the wrong tree if we go running to Jesus with such matters. He’s not interested in such things, no matter how “really interested” we are with them. He’s on a different mission – in His own life, and in the lives of all of His followers. He wants to introduce us to the “better” way – the way of humility and service – the way of giving over receiving.

Which leads us to the second lesson – the more “general” lesson for us today. When we begin with Jesus, He takes us where we are. He asks that we come as little children to His salvation and His care. But we don’t stay there. He challenges us – rather constantly – to become all that we can become in service in His kingdom. We rather “grow up” into our Christian understanding – in every way becoming more “adult” in our service – seeking service, rather than tribute and praise. Paul said it well in 1st Corinthians 13 – “When I was a child, I used to speak as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.” I think to James and John, Jesus would have added, “and childish, unfocused questions.”

Christ calls us to something significant. Christians are always being challenged by Christ to take our commitment to Him in the manner of serious disciples. An adult response to Christ sees us choosing to see ourselves less as faith consumers, and always more as servants of Christ and His followers.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

A Considerably More Interesting Definition of Love

2006-10-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

19th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:17-31

You may have noticed that I went to the trouble to change the north side of the marquee for this morning. It is a quote attributed to the Danish theologian, Soren Kierkegaard - “Christ has many admirers but few followers.”

As we encounter our gospel lesson for this morning, we realize that the rich young ruler walks among us, and to a certain degree, within each one of us. We approach Christ and ask, timidly or boldly – it doesn’t matter. We ask Christ our question about eternal life, and Christ offers to us His answer. Too often, we, too “go away grieving.”

We go away grieving. We grieve, because we are suddenly confronted with the reality that we continue to be about the business of possessing life, when Christ calls us to give our lives away. We grieve because we possess much, and we perceive that Christ’s command that we give away all that we have is more than we can bear. We grieve because the meaning that we so desperately seek in this life is defined by our possessions, and so to give away all that we have is tantamount to giving away our own purpose and our meaning.

And we grieve, because in asking us to do what Jesus has asked us to do, we realize that He loves us.

Ah, the rub. Did you catch that part of the story? Mark is the only gospel writer who tells the story this way. Jesus is approached by this young ruler, He is asked His question, and He responds – Mark says, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said . . .” Out of Christ’s great love for this potential disciple, Jesus spoke words that challenged this man to his core, and he went away, grieving.

Perhaps we do the same thing.

Some of the commentators I read this week made much of the fact that Jesus did not offer this command to any one else during His ministry. I take issue with that assessment. Do you remember the parables? Do you remember the story of the treasure hidden in the field? That man found the treasure (quite by accident, I suspect), reburied it, and then went and sold all that he had to purchase that field. Do you remember the story of the pearl of great price? A hunter of pearls stumbled across a fantastic pearl, and went and sold all that he had previously invested in pearls in order to buy that one pearl. In those parables, Jesus lays down a truism – we cannot serve God and mammon. And that is not a message just for the wealthy. “Whatever your economic status, greed must go if you are to truly find God.”[1] And He lays down a second truism – discipleship is costly.

“Christ has many admirers, but few followers.”

And Christ loves us.

Will Willimon says that “there are benefits to following Jesus, but costs as well. And Jesus loves us enough to be up front about the cost.” Whatever else we might say about our Jesus, He shoots straight with us. We ask Him what He requires of us, and then His answer hits us like a ton of bricks. “Oh, what I ask isn’t much – I simply want it all from you. I want you to leave behind father, mother, sisters, brothers, children, spouses, and come follow me. I want you to leave behind your version of security for a new kind of eternal security that I have for you. I want you to dispossess all of your possessions, and come follow me as a vagabond and a sojourner. I want it all!! Because I want all of you!!”

Willimon goes on. “Christianity is all about loving Jesus, but it is about loving Jesus in the manner that Jesus loves us. The acid test for our love is sometimes how much we have been willing to give up for Jesus in order to realize the gift that he offers us.”[2]

You and I want to love Jesus. Really, we do. But too much of the time, we want to love Christ on our terms. We offer Jesus a partial commitment. We say to Him, “I know you want it all, Jesus, but I don’t see how I can give it all to you. Will you take what I will give?”

Like many of us, in my personal life, I struggled early on with my financial contributions to God’s work. Not as a child, mind you. I loved giving money to the church when I was a child. Of course – it was money that Mom and Dad gave me so that I could put something in the offering plate. It was easy to give away their money. Now, I don’t discount that practice for parents – frankly, I think it is a good thing, teaching children that they can make a contribution to the work of Christ. I applaud those of you who teach your children in that manner. No, my personal struggle began when I got my first little jobs – babysitting, mowing yards, and then working at Maverick Steak house when I was a Jr. and Sr. in High School. That’s when giving became more difficult. I struggled – I asked all of the usual questions – “Do I have to give if I really, really want to buy something else with my money? Boy, this is a lot of money. Does God really need this kind of money from me? Boy, I don’t have as much money as my parents – won’t God’s operation run okay without my piddly little contribution. Do I tithe on the gross or the net?” Some smart alec preacher answered that one for me during college. He said, “That depends on whether you want a gross blessing or a net blessing.”

Then came college, and my first “real” jobs. Lots more money, and that tithe check to the church grew, and I wondered how I would get by without all that money I was giving to the church. Besides, I worked for the church – it didn’t make sense that I would turn around and give money back to the church when that’s where it came from in the first place. Then there was the year that my little church didn’t give me a raise, and I really thought I deserved one. So, with what was supposed to be my tithe, I gave myself a raise. Little bit by little bit I saw my bank account grow smaller and smaller, until I relented and once again counted on the promise of God to bless my contribution to God’s ministry. In all the years following that, we have made it a practice to pay the church first, ourselves second, and all the other bills after that. And I have been blessed, really beyond measure.

My pilgrimage isn’t over. God seems to always want more from me. Don’t you find the same thing? Doesn’t it seem that God always wants more – more from us, and more of us? Either God wants more of our money, or more of our time, or more of our love, or more of our praise – always more of our devotion.

The lesson from the gospel this morning – that’s Jesus way of loving us. He gave us all, and that’s the way Christ wants us to respond to Him – with our all. Friend Willimon puts it this way – “Serious love is willing to give whatever it has, all of whatever it has, to its object. We are talking about priorities. You cannot have material prosperity, or even material security, as your first priority and find eternal life.”

“Christ has many admirers, but few followers.”

That phrase has haunted me this week. I keep hearing voices of people I have known over the years who have had a casual approach to Jesus. I remember my weird neighbor in Dallas, who sauntered over one night to watch me while I worked on my car, and when he discovered that I was a minister, said to me, “you know my wife and I, we’re rather partial to the teachings of Paul. We’ve read what Jesus has to say, and that’s nice and everything, but all in all, we like what Paul had to say.” And I remember the people I’ve run into who have tested the waters of various world religions. They say to me, “I love Jesus, and I love Mohammed, and I love the Buddha, and I am thankful for the teachings of Confucious. And I remember the people in my experience who have studied Jesus and what He had to say, but ultimately determined that to follow Jesus meant giving up the one, truly unique thing they possessed – their right to determine their own destiny and to make their own choices.

I suspect by now you have predicted where this sermon is going this morning. We, each of us, must ask ourselves the very question Jesus would ask of us – What is the one thing that is standing between you being able to follow me with your “all.”

This is one of those sermons that isn’t intended for your neighbor. It isn’t intended for your parents or your children or your spouse. It is intended just for you. It is designed to help each one of us step into that place where this rich young ruler found himself. We approach Jesus, wanting to know what’s left for us to do or get rid of in order to follow Him. He looks us in the eye, and He loves us . . .

And He says . . .

I want you to look at the front cover of your bulletin. There is that question – “What must I do?” Each one of us has to fill in the blank for ourselves. Well, that’s not really right – each one of us has to look our Savior right back in the eye, and listen to what He has to say is the one thing we still lack.

Are you listening to Him? Can you hear His voice? He is calling your name – just your name. He knows you intimately, really better than you ever thought He could, and surprisingly, better than you love yourself. Can you hear His words? Can you see the love in His eyes?

More than 20 years ago, psychologists coined a phrase designed to help parents deal with unruly teenagers. It was the phrase “tough love.” The concept advocated that every once in a while, parents are forced into a position in which they really begin to harm their adolescent children unless they force them into a position of responsibility – administering a form of love that is “tough” – “tough love.”

I think the kind of love that Christ exhibited toward this young man, and really toward each one of us, in considerably more interesting than any definition of love that we have seen or understood before. It is a “real” love – “tough” doesn’t adequately describe Christ’s love for this young man. It is more genuine than that. It is a love that looks beyond the moment – really beyond all the moments previous to our lives. It is a love that looks beyond our circumstances. It is a love that understands our fears, as well as our successes. It is a love that hopes more for us than we dare hope for ourselves. And it is a love that insists that we claim a future for ourselves – a future that Christ offers to us – that we haven’t ever dreamed was possible.

It is a considerably more interesting definition of love. It is Christ’s love – for us.

[1] Will Willimon, “Costly Love,” Pulpit Resource, Fall 2006, p.15.
[2] Ibid.

… that You are mindful of him

2006-10-08T19:31:00.000-07:00

18th Sunday after Pentecost

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

I don’t think that in a sermon that I have told you much about the time I spend in Texas during the fall. People ask me all the time why I travel all the way down there to hunt, when the game is so much larger here. Truth of the matter is that I love the Texas Hill Country – the vastness of it all, the ruggedness, the unpredictability of the weather, the beauty of the night skies, and the solitude of living in my camper for a week at a time. It is relaxing and restful, and strangely at the same time quite invigorating and motivating.

I’ll mention three things about this place that thrills my soul. It is, of course, the Texas Hill Country. We travel ranch roads to get from our camp ground to the part of the pasture where we hunt. One particular place on the main ranch road my brother nicknamed “the telephone booth” – because at that particular place on the lease, we get a good phone signal. I stop there several times a day to make and return phone calls, and from that particular vantage point, you can see – oh, I really never have stopped to count how many hill tops you can see from right there. It is, in a word, spectacular. I love those hills.

Of course, where there are hills, there are also valleys. We moved our campground this year, and I’m still adjusting to the move. We had camped for the last 15 years on the creek – North Morgan creek, to be exact. It was an idyllic setting – meandering creek, surrounded by hills rising on each side of you, and huge oak and sycamore trees shading our campground. But a year ago this past August, we had a flood. Our land owner told us we were lucky – that this was only the “50 year flood.” My little camper floated down the creek about 75 yards, and our camp was rather devastated. So, this last spring, Barney, our land owner, made us move up the hill. We traded the valley for the hillside, and our new home possesses a spectacular view of Lake Buchanan. We don’t have near the number of trees, but we have a better breeze most of the day, and we have to open one less gate on our trip up the hill.

Maybe more than in some other places I know, water is important in the Hill Country. From my experience, they either have way too little of it, or much too much of it. Water is a precious resource, and occasionally a dangerous commodity. The pasture is either wet and muddy, or dry and dusty – I have rarely seen it in between. Water in camp is important. As the men on this lease have gotten older and lazier, and since the flood, we have each secured travel campers that have a few more luxuries – like air conditioning and showers. But we don’t have water access in our camp – at least not yet – and so we have to haul our water in from somewhere else. Getting water for camp is something of a daily chore.

One more thing about this little retreat setting. Our camp is far enough away from the city lights that we have spectacular night skies. This last week we had a growing full moon for the week. The early evenings were illuminated by a beautiful moon. But sometime early in the morning, as we would awake to begin the morning hunt, we were blessed with an incredible night sky. During this time of the year, early in the morning, the constellation Orion, the hunter, is starting to set in the western sky. It gave me pause to consider the millions of men over the centuries who have risen early in the morning to go hunt for game, and looked into that same sky to see that fantastic sight.

The epistle for today comes from the book of Hebrews. We don’t know who wrote Hebrews – scholars are divided on the subject – some think Paul, others the young evangelist, Apollos. I personally tend toward the latter opinion. At least a part of the purpose of this letter to Christians is to describe in rather majestic detail the glory of Christ – how in every way, Jesus was a more excellent example – of nearly anything you might consider. Beginning in that second verse – “but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. When he had made purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.” Listening to those verses, you realize right away that we are speaking of someone special – really more than special – someone unique, in every respect.

My personal spiritual pilgrimage over the last six months or so has led me to consider Jesus – who He is, who He is not, what He purposed in His life, what He desired to accomplish, how He lived, how He died, what He wants for you and me today. Those kinds of questions. I have refused to accept the “Sunday School” answers – choosing instead to consider Christ from a variety of angles – biblical, personal, spiritual, human, socially and ecumenically. Here’s what I’ve come up with – Jesus Christ was someone special. He was unique – one of a kind. He was the only person to ever live who was both divine and human at the same time – one of a kind – fully divine, fully human. Words to adequately describe Jesus fail us – we are at a loss for appropriate metaphors.

There is a contemporary theology which suggests that we err when we consider anything other than God and Christ in our “theological” deliberations. The proponents of this theology suggest that all of existence and thought is really about God, and any consideration of those things which God has created beyond the simple idea that God has created them is troublesome and useless. In other words, when asked the question “What is the meaning of life?” they respond with the answer, “God.” That certainly is the easy answer to some of life’s most complicated questions. The trouble with that kind of thinking is that God thought enough about us to create us, to sustain us, and eventually to redeem us. It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that doesn’t matter!!

Why that little tirade? Well, the writer of Hebrews changes course in mid stream, and quotes from Psalm 8. You heard the choir do one of our favorite pieces this morning, Majesty and Glory. We love that song – it lifts us, and we rarely sing it without someone in the choir shedding a tear or two. By the way, if you have trouble remembering where certain things are in the scriptures, don’t be troubled – the writer of Hebrews did the same thing, right there in verse 6 – when he said, “But someone has testified somewhere . . .”

This is where my title came from this morning – “ . . . that You are mindful of him.” The psalmist was overwhelmed with the majesty and glory of God, and asked the pointed question, “What is man – in comparison to God, and all that God has created – what is man?”

I felt a little of that question this week, sitting on top of that hill in Texas. Looking up at the moon, and the stars, and viewing the hills and the valleys, and that beautiful lake. “God, just what is man, in comparison to all of this. We seem pretty puny, in my opinion. We think we’re worth more – of some real value – but still we seem mighty puny.” That’s kind of what I was thinking and feeling.

The writer of Hebrews elaborates on a quote from David the psalmist. “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, or mortals, that you care for them? You have made them for a little while lower than the angels; you have crowned them with glory and honor, subjecting all things under their feet.” These writers give us something for our contemporary theologies to consider – God, in God’s infinite wisdom, has created mankind, and even though for a little while mankind is lower in status than the angels, God has placed mankind in charge of all that has been created – well, sort of – at least things on the earth. We’re starting to expand our control out into the rest of the universe, but we’re a little slow on the uptake. Considering the majesty and glory of God, what business does God have contemplating, considering, pondering mankind? It is a good question.

We have heard from a lot of people this morning. We have heard from Job, who really is everyman. Job, the righteous one, experienced suffering, and asked some of life’s most pointed questions. We have heard from the psalmist, who proclaims his personal integrity and trustworthiness, claiming that he does not “sit with the worthless” or “consort with hypocrites.” We have heard from the gospel writer, Mark, who reminds us that children are the best of the best among us, and that truly we come into the kingdom only as a child – there is no other way to make it.

I’ve talked for a while – now I’m going to try to say something. Not every question that you and I have about God and life and anything else gets answered adequately every time we ask them. I love the mix of these scriptures – they ask the questions, but they don’t necessarily answer them for us. In doing so, they rather compel us to examine our role in the relationship we have with God. They ask the questions we need to ask, and point out to us that every once in a while, it is enough simply to be asking the right questions.

I’m in the first throws of building a sermon in which I ask the question, “Are you more religious, or spiritual.” In that sermon, I intend to talk about the relational aspect of faith. Well, this morning, I speak of that relational aspect of our faith. This Jesus, this Christ – the One Whom God has highly exalted – is the same One Who is “bringing many children to glory” – to quote the writer of Hebrews again. We ask the question about our worth, in comparison to God. But while we ask that question, my dear friends, consider that God is still about the business of asking questions about us, and to us, and God is still about the business of entering into relationship with us – even in our puniness – and that God has taken it upon God’s self to “consider us.”

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?

2006-10-01T19:25:00.000-07:00

J.D.Sarver, Youth Minister - Guest Preacher

Can you remember as a child being on the playground or the neighborhood “sand lot” or maybe at the local YMCA basketball court and it came time to “choose the teams”. You know – 2 people would be selected to start choosing players for their respective teams. Were any of you like me – not wanting to be chosen last and, hopefully being selected by the “winning team”? Because, you know, the winning side was always already known right after the selection process – way before any ball was thrown or goal or basket scored. Because, inevitably, one side was “stacked” with all of the really good players.

Well, this morning we are going to take a look at “Whose side are you on”.
Our focus text for this week is the Mark passage. In the 1st part of the text – verses 38-41 – John begins by telling Jesus that the disciples had seen someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name. But, the disciples tried to stop him because he was not following the disciples. “He wasn’t on their side” so to speak. And, Jesus tells them not to stop him. Because, as he says in verse 40 – For he who is not against us is for us or as some scriptures say “on our side”.

Aren’t we just like John and the other disciples still today? We hinder Christ’s work by focusing on what other religious activities Christian people are doing and how they are doing them. Trying to determine if it is the “right” way or not. Here’s an example: One might say “Well, they can’t have Church on Thursday night or certainly not on Friday night. After all Friday night is for football games. Don’t they know that? Church and worship services are supposed to be on Sunday.” Or, as another example: You can’t go and worship in Church without your Sunday best clothes on. You’re supposed to be dressed appropriately to enter God’s house aren’t you?

As you know, I could go on and on with numerous other examples of how this is played out. But I won’t.

And then - can’t you hear Jesus’ words as he told John and the other disciples – Don’t hinder them – for whoever is not against us is on our side. Our struggle and battle on this playing field of life is not and should not be with each other. No, our battle is against evil in the world. The one who John and the other disciples saw casting out demons in Jesus’ name. He was battling evil, and, the disciples actions hindered his work and turned the focus of the struggle on other unimportant issues. That is why I think Jesus completes his statements in the final verses in this chapter of Mark the way he did. His words and comments help the disciples and us change the focus. Instead of looking at or criticizing how or what someone else is doing, he reminds us to consider our own actions in this struggle or battle. He tells us our actions in this life have consequences attached to them.

The way we choose to live and participate in this game of life has an effect not only on ourselves, but also on others. Therefore, Jesus tells us to play this game, fight this battle, participate in this struggle of life carefully as to not stumble. But, as we look at the way Jesus states this we see that He knows we will stumble. He says if your hand causes you to stumble, if your foot causes you to stumble, if your eye causes you to stumble, as if He was saying when you stumble…When we stumble? What do we do? We get up!! And, we continue on in the game. But how? We continue on knowing as the Psalm passage states because GOD is on our side. Look again at that 1st line of Psalm 124… “Had it not been for the Lord who was on our side…” See, without the Lord God on our side, we would not survive. And, oh by the way, as I mentioned at the beginning…when I was a child, I always wanted to be chosen by the winning team. Well, what better side to be on than GOD’s!!

So, I leave you with this final question “Whose Side Are You On”??

Extreme Superlatives

2006-09-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

16th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 9:30-37

There is no question in our minds that Jesus takes us at our worst, and constantly challenges us to be our best. We then live out our earthly existence somewhere in between, constantly testing the limits of those two extreme boundaries, but most often conceding to middle ground.

The poets in our scripture lessons for today suggest the possibility of perfection on the part of both men and women in our midst – the “Proverbs 31” woman, and the “Psalm 1” man. None of us achieve these lofty goals, and yet they remain goals, nonetheless. James calls us to wisdom, challenging our human endeavors at earthly accomplishments when our goals are too self-focused and when our methods are devoid of gentleness and mercy. We have heard all of these scriptures read for us this morning, in a way that perhaps helps us to understand the futility we feel as we strive toward those things Jesus hopes for us, and we hope for ourselves

We sound a little like His disciples.

When we read Mark’s gospel, especially these middle chapters, we get a glimpse of a less sanitized Jesus than you and I are used to seeing. He confronts with regularity. He often stands somewhat aloof, “passing by” as Mark puts it from time to time. A few weeks ago, Mark told us that He was “intending to pass by” the disciples as they were drowning in their boat. Or, two weeks ago, we see Jesus enter the house of the woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit – Jesus entered, Mark tells us, “and did not want anyone to know He was there.” Today we hear that He is simply “passing through” Galilee. The way Mark describes Jesus, He is somewhat aloof, and often detached from the various situations He encounters along the way.

And then Mark tells us that He is watching. Several references in these middle chapters picture Jesus standing back and watching the disciples as they attempt to figure out just Who He is and what He wants from them – their “role” in this little mini-drama. As we arrive at v. 30, Jesus and the disciples are arriving in Galilee, or more accurately, passing through Galilee (again, not wanting anyone to know about it). He begins to teach them concerning the immediate future – saying that “The Son of Man is to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill Him; and when He has been killed, He will rise three days later.” Mark goes on to say that the disciples “didn’t understand,” and were “afraid to ask Him about it.”

Well, I guess!! We’re rather with them at this point – we don’t understand. We don’t understand Jesus’ actions, and we don’t understand much of His message. We’re confused. We feel somewhat isolated and perhaps even a little abandoned.

Just like the disciples . . . And then we notice in today’s scriptures that Jesus is watching them. They arrive in Capernaum, which most scholars think was Peter’s home town, and perhaps Jesus’ adopted home town. And when they do arrive, after they’ve unpacked and finally sit down in the house to prop their feet up for a little while, Jesus pops the question – “What were you boys arguing about back on the road?” He’s been watching. He’s always watching us.

Mark says that they were silent. Well, I guess so. They’d been arguing about who was the greatest among them. Muhammad Ali hadn’t come along yet, and they were evidently confused about this point, not to mention the concept as a whole. Who was the greatest among them!! What a question to ask!!

There’s so much we don’t know. We don’t know who the “they” was at this point. Was it all the disciples, or was it just Peter, James and John, who had recently accompanied Jesus up the mountain where they watched as Jesus, Moses and Elijah were gloriously transfigured in front of their very eyes. That must have been quite a sight, not to mention something of an ego trip for the “big three.” We don’t know exactly who was involved in the “argument,” and we don’t know the extent of their argument. We don’t know if Jesus was irritated by their suppositional questioning. And we don’t know the tenor in His voice as He asked the question.

We do know that these boys were obsessed with power and position. And even this little exchange didn’t faze them, because in the next chapter – Chapter 10 – the sons of Zebedee came to Jesus asking that He grant them the privilege of sitting on their right and left “when He came into His kingdom.” He told them they didn’t know what they were asking.

Neither do we, when we strive for these extreme superlatives.

Truth of the matter is – when we feel isolated and abandoned, and after we get past our momentary depressions, we start to look for ways in which we might distinguish ourselves. We start to ask really dumb questions, like “Who is the greatest in the kingdom,” and “May we sit on your right side and your left side when you come into your kingdom.” We start to listen to the voices of prominence in our lives – our parents, who tell us that we are wonderful and we can be anything we want to be – or our own voices – which tell us that we are deserving of positions of power and prominence in the kingdom of God – that we have served God with exemplary behavior and consistency – and that we are deserving of all the extreme superlatives which can possibly be ushered upon us. We start to believe that we deserve more than the others around us, and we start to believe that we are actually better than those around us – you know, people for whom Jesus died. And we fold our arms and point fingers at those poor, unfortunate souls. Or we huddle in public and private corners with anyone we can convince to join our social politic, and we castigate those sisters and brothers – for whom Christ died – we castigate them and condemn them from our lofty positions of prominence and power – so that we might continue to elevate ourselves to the levels of extreme superlatives we have lavished upon ourselves.

Charles Cousar says that “strikingly, the disciples are not reprimanded for what seems like a ridiculous argument, but the whole notion of ‘greatness’ is redefined.”[1] You and I can breathe something of a sigh of relief that Jesus doesn’t give us what we deserve when we act like this – rather, Jesus redefines the conversation for us with as much grace as candor.

He redefined these extreme superlatives. He gave us new superlatives, for which to strive. Cousar says, “New categories are proposed for determining success and failure, winning and losing, achievement and unfulfillment. We begin to get an inkling of what setting our minds on divine thought really implies – not purely spiritual meditations, but attention to the least in such a radical way that we become the least.”[2] Jesus did this for us in such a memorable way -

He found a child.

Mark says, “He found a child, put her in their midst, and then took her into His arms.” I like that picture. Except for the extremely cynical among us, most of us love to gather a child into our arms. Pick up a baby and pull it to your chest. Bounce a toddler on your knee. Pick up a five year old, who is starting to get to old and big to pick up any more. There is something magical about those moments. There is something so very human about those moments. We all love them.

Jesus brought this little child into their midst, and in doing so, introduced us to new superlatives. Meekness. Vulnerability. Transparency. Graciousness. Ideas and concepts which find their genesis in children, who are, in most societies, the very least of us all, when they should be the very most important of us all.

In teaching this class out at NOC, we dealt with a chapter on poverty. It used to be that the elderly were the largest group in poverty in this country. But with the investment Social Security has produced in our country, poverty among the elderly has declined significantly. Do you know who has replaced them – as the fastest growing segment of society when it comes to the issues of poverty? Children. Children are the segment of society in which poverty is growing fastest.

Children are the least among us, when they should be the very most important among us. Seems it’s always been that way.

Jesus used the most vulnerable among us as an example of greatness in the kingdom. He wasn’t referencing the “child’s naiveté or innocence or trustfulness”[3] here – no, He was making a point about this “child’s lowly status.”[4] Jesus found the smallest, lowliest, weakest, most vulnerable and transparent person He could find standing around that afternoon, and said to the disciples and to us, “This is how you come into the kingdom. You come like this child. And when you’re looking for positions of prominence and importance in the kingdom, you look for someone like this child to welcome into the kingdom. And when you finally learn how to welcome someone like this child, then you’ve learned how to welcome me, and if you can welcome me, you’ve finally found your way to God.”

And isn’t that why we’re here this morning. To find our way to God??

A friend of mine in town here this week said to me, “One of the strangest things about your church is that you have so many people of excellent and noble character as members.” I know what she was trying to say – she was attempting to offer a compliment to our congregation.

I pray that we are not known so much for our achievements, and our prominence in this community, and our individual and corporate excellencies – as we are for our humility, our meekness, our gentleness, and our graciousness. I pray that when people speak of us, that they notice that we love – especially the least among us – like Jesus did – and that we care more for others – more than we care for ourselves. I hope that’s what they say about us.

As we all make our way to God . . .

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

[1] Brueggemann, Cousar, Gaventa, Newsome, Texts for Preaching, Year B, p. 520.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.

Naming Your God

2006-09-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

15th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 8:27-38

Jesus, the Christ, asks the same question of you and me that He asked of Simon Peter that day. “But who do you say that I am?”

It is a fair question. Since Christ has paid the purchase price for our redemption – since He died for every man, woman and child who has ever walked the planet – I would say that it is a fair question for Him to ask. “But who do you say that I am?”

Are we to name our God??

From the days of Adam, man has been in the naming business. God paraded all the animals in front of Adam, and he gave them names. That’s the story in Genesis. Then God paraded Eve in front of Adam, and he said, “Whoa, man!” Or something like that . . .

Seriously, one of the great privileges of being human is the capacity to name things. I like to watch an episode of Frazier at night, to end my day with a chuckle, and I recently saw one of my favorite episodes. It’s the one where Niles and Daphne are trying to come up with a name for their unborn child so they can get the child on the waiting list for a rather elite Pre-school. They argue back and forth about names, and finally, having come to an impasse, they ask Roz to pick a name – which she does. The show fast forwards five years to the admissions committee of that elite Pre-school, and they ask, “Well, who’s next,” and the person reading off the names says, “Last name, Crane; First name, Ichabod.” They stamp “Denied” on the admission form, insisting that if the couple didn’t take the admission process seriously, how could they be expected to take their child’s schooling seriously at that prestigious academy. Naming things is important.

You were given a name – maybe long before your birth – but you were given a name by your parents. It may have had family heritage attached to it. It may have come from a movie. My mother still swears I was named after Little Richard. And I still swear that I was named after King Richard, from Camelot. Where your name came from makes a difference, doesn’t it? And if you have children, you named them. You know, the Wednesday night crowd gets something of a preview of the sermon most weeks, and I pointed out that Leslee and Nick came up with an unusual name in “Chevelle.” We all suspect what her first car will be . . .

Politicians know the power of naming something. We’ve watched over the last several years as the long standing “estate tax” has been renamed the ominous “death tax.” It makes a difference, don’t you think?

And we get to name our God?

Actually, God has told us God’s name. When Moses saw the bush burning, stammering, He asked God for God’s name. God replied, “Tell them, ‘I Am’ has sent you.” “Tell them the Eternal One, the Ever Existing God has sent you.”

Have you heard the names for God which have been mentioned this morning? The Psalmist concludes by calling out to God – “O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” Three powerful images are presented in those names. Lord. Rock. Redeemer. Powerful words. Powerful images. Good names for God.

The writer of the 1st chapter of Proverbs calls the Lord “Wisdom.” “Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice.” “Listen. Choose. Heed. Grow.” Apply the wisdom of the ages to your own lives, and prosper in the way of the Lord. “Wisdom” is a good name for God.

We have heard other good names for God this morning. Mary read for us from our hymnal – a listing from each book in our Bible of names for Jesus. “The Ram. The Passover Lamb. The High Priest. The Cloud by day and the Pillar of Fire by night. The City of our Refuge.” We hear other names. Bridegroom. Servant. Suffering Servant. Burden Bearer. Savior. Avenger. Restorer. Fountain. Justifier. Resurrection. Fullness of the Godhead. Blessed Hope. Everlasting Covenant. King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. The scripture is replete with wonderful names for our Jesus – our Savior – our Lord. All good names for Christ.

What name did Jesus choose for Himself? Most often, Jesus referred to himself as the “Son of Man.” A name means everything, doesn’t it? And the name that Jesus chose for himself was “Son of Man.” Divine, yet human. Powerful, and at the same time, submissive. A name which identifies Him with us – far more than we would have ever anticipated.

And we heard the choir sing this morning. I have grown to love that hymn – “Be Thou My Vision.” Christ is our Vision. Listen again to the words.

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord.
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise.
Thou mine inheritance, now and always;
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my treasure Thou art.

My favorite phrase in that hymn is in that last line – “High King of Heaven.” I love that image – that Christ is the High King of heaven, Who has come down to earth to purchase our redemption. Such an example. Such love.

Which brings us back to the question. Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do men say that I am?” The disciples had answers. “Some say that you are John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” Those would have been all the popular answers to the question, in that day. They would have looked to the recently deceased John the Baptist – wondering if Jesus was John reincarnated. Others would have looked to the greatest of the prophets, Elijah. But this Jesus was so different, He may have been the reincarnation of one of the lesser prophets.

I’ve asked some people that question over the years. “Who do you think Jesus is?” Far too many of them answered the question in the past tense – “He was a good man, a great teacher, an excellent philosopher.” And others go the other direction – “He was pure God. He could do everything He did because He was God. Came and lived here among us, but He wasn’t really one of us – because He was God.” I often wonder if they know that Jesus called Himself the “Son of Man.”

His first question was the set up question. Jesus was good at doing that, you know. He would ask a question to draw you into conversation. He would draw you into the premise – and the premise in this case was the importance of Who Jesus was. Others had an opinion. The disciples knew what they were saying – well enough to rattle off a reply to the Master.

But then He asked the real question. “But who do you say that I am?” It’s a fair question. It’s one they needed to answer. Peter spoke up. I’m not sure if he was speaking for the group, or if he was speaking just for himself. “You are the Messiah.” Other gospel writers quote him this way – “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

Whichever way Peter actually said it, according to Jesus, he got it right.

Jesus asks us the very same question. “But who do you say that I am?” It’s still a fair question. It really is the question that every person must answer. It certainly is the question that every person in this room must answer. For you see, we are privileged to name our God. And the way we name Him defines just Who He is in our lives.

I have a suggestion for us. We must not skew our belief in Christ in any one direction, as a result of our inability to understand just Who He really is. And we must never trivialize Christ – in any sense. Let me tell you what I mean.

We can name God like the people the disciples had been listening to - people who had skewed their perception of God toward someone who had already lived and died. Good people, certainly. Prophets, absolutely. Then, others had skewed their perception of God totally toward His divine nature, neglecting to acknowledge that God now resided in human flesh. We can skew our concept of Jesus toward that which we already know – that which makes the most sense to us.

In this day and age, it is highly more likely that we would trivialize either aspect of Jesus’ being – His divinity or His humanity. You and I have heard people who say “Well, He was just like us. Nothing special, except He lived a pretty good life.” Trivialization. Or they say, “Well, of course God can live a perfect life – He’s God.” Trivialization.
We hear Him speak again. He calls Himself the Son of Man. Fully God, fully human. The God-man. One of a kind. Never another like Him.

He asks us the same question, Cornerstone. “But who do you say that I am?” It’s a fair question.

It’s a question that God wants us to answer. Sometimes God wants us to answer it out loud. God wants others to know Who we think He is. But more often than not, it’s a question that He wants us to answer in our quiet, personal moments – all kind of moments – moments of sorrow, moments of pain, moments of triumph, moments of great joy. God wants to know what we think – in the private moments of our lives, when it’s just us, and God.

There’s a little chorus in our hymnal. I sing it sometimes when I’m in those private moments – just me and God. It goes like this:

You are my God, You are my King,
You are my Master, my everything.
You are my Lord, that’s why I sing to You.
Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

The Canine Gospel

2006-09-10T09:56:00.000-07:00

14th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 7:24-37

I’ve been having fun with my sermon titles lately. It’s always fun to come up with a title that is intriguing, a little bit controversial, and vaguely humorous. This week’s title has generated a great deal of interest – I have had people all over town wondering what I was going to preach this week. One church member wanted to know if we were going to hear more stories about Amy. Another asked me if Bucky was preaching this week. I can report that the title is original with me this week, although the idea has been considered by a number of preachers over the past several years.

Mark reports to us that Jesus has traveled outside the boundaries of Galilee. That was His home area. I tried thinking a little this week what corollary I could draw for us. It would be less like traveling to Mexico – the cultural differences are too great for that comparison. Rather, it would be more like us traveling to New Mexico – still a part of the United States, but a noticeable difference in culture, considering the influence of Native Americans in that part of our country. To travel to the region of Tyre, Jesus would have been moving out of His own culture into an area where things were different enough that people would take notice that He had crossed something of a cultural boundary.

I haven’t mentioned it in a sermon, but it was bound to come out sometime this fall. I agreed to teach a course at NOC this fall – I don’t know where my mind was – agreeing to teach a course during hunting season. Anyway, I am teaching a Tuesday and Thursday evening section on Social Problems. I’m enjoying the class, for the most part – and I’m certainly learning a lot. This week, we dealt with the social problems related to race and ethnic inequities in our society. I have never experienced a more tense session than I did on Tuesday night. I consider myself to be extremely unbiased in relation to race and ethnic issues, and I certainly do not consider myself to be prejudiced in any sense of the word. But in dealing with actual data surrounding several “minority” groups in our society, I found myself dealing with language and concepts that made me squirm with every word I said, and every idea we considered. I was attempting to be politically correct in a world where political correctness is constantly redefining itself.

We might gasp, then, when we hear Jesus respond to this woman in the 7th chapter of Mark. She is a gentile, or at least of gentile derivation. He is a Jew – and in His response, He sounds more Jewish than we might be comfortable with. She asks for an act of mercy – not for herself, but for her demon-possessed daughter. He responds with a Jewish based proverbial teaching – “you feed the children before you feed the dogs.” That would be for you and me a truism – except in this case, everyone knew what He was saying. He was saying what every Jew in that day and age would think about the gentiles – that in the minds of Jews, they were “dogs.” I’ve shared this illustration with you before – the Jews had such a distaste for gentiles – they had a name for them, which literally meant “uncircumcised Gentile dogs.” It was not a kind expression, by any stretch of the imagination. Jesus repeats that imagery, and we gasp a little at His language, if not His meaning.

I’ve heard a couple of different explanations over the years to try to explain the rather “insensitive” way Jesus responds to this woman. The one I heard through my youth years and in seminary was that Jesus was offering something of a test to this woman – “Just how much does she want this gift I have to give her? Will she step right past this common insult I throw at her for the sake of her daughter?” I know a lot of folks who think that’s exactly what He was doing – mostly because in their minds, there’s not really any other option that is more palatable. But several years ago, I heard an explanation that I like better, even if it still leaves me scratching my head a little. It’s the explanation that speaks to the human side of Jesus in this exchange. Jesus sounds so very human here, doesn’t He? He sounds like He’s spent a lot of years in the Jewish education system of the day – a system in which a desire to serve God in the purity of God’s appointment of the Jews would look at all others as being “dogs” in comparison to their privileged position. I see the human/divine struggle in Jesus in this exchange – quite like the night He was betrayed, and spent several hours in the garden of Gethsemane, crying out to His Heavenly Father, asking if there was another means by which salvation could be purchased, other than Him giving up His life. The humanity of Jesus was evident in that experience, and I see something of the same in this exchange with this woman.

You say, “Well, pastor, Jesus wasn’t human – He was divine. How could the humanity of Christ conflict with His divine nature?” Believe me – I understand that question – much more than I can pretend to understand the answer. Let me ask us a question. The scriptures and our experience tell us that when we become Christians, our “spiritual nature” is awakened – literally becomes alive. Do you and I still struggle with the flesh? I know that we can’t make a direct comparison between our spiritual nature and the divinity of Christ – I’m not suggesting that we do. Still, I can see parallels. As hard as I try, I still bring my human biases to the table when I try to live out my spiritual life – and I think something of the same was true for Jesus.

Well, most of that is just my opinion. It does set the stage for us, though. In this story, we find ourselves smack in the middle of something of a societal/culture/religious war – something that you and I understand quite well these days. The early “Christian” thinking of the day was that the gospel was for the Jews – that it was a continuation of the story of God’s redemption for mankind. The mistake the Jewish people made was that the gospel was only for them – not just “first” for them – in the sense of “sequence.” They still don’t understand that concept – that God “chose” them in the sense that God first planted the gospel in their field. They were the first to receive it, and it would naturally spread from there. The mistake the Jews made was what was meant by the word “chosen.” They weren’t special – rather, far from it. They were a troublesome people – quick to abandon God at the least opportunity, and prone to wandering toward other deities. They were anything but faithful, as God pointed out from time to time. They thought the gospel was just for them – only them. That’s where they made their mistake.

Thank God.

Thank God that Jesus made this first foray into the Gentile population. She was the first. But every person sitting in this room this morning can claim to be a direct result of what happened on that fateful day. Jesus crossed the line. He crossed the line between Jews and gentiles, and we are of all people most blessed because He did. We are just like her. We are gentiles. We are the people whom the Jews would have called “dogs.” And the good news of Jesus Christ is that His gospel if for us. It’s not just a “Jewish” gospel – it’s also a “canine” gospel. It is a gospel for us – for you and me.

In this class that I’m teaching over at NOC, we have two sessions each week – Tuesday night and Thursday night. On Tuesday evening, I try to hit the subject matter for the week at the “knowledge” level – the most basic level. We work through the chapter which was assigned from the book, making note of the most important details. But on Thursday night, we try to kick it up a notch. I am trying to cover the same subject matter, but at the comprehension and application levels. In that same spirit, let’s switch gears to what James has to say.

James is gospel application. He takes what the church had gleaned by the mid-first century, and translates it into every day action. You heard what Joe read for us a while ago. These are practical application words – and they hit us right between the eyes.

He concludes with these words – “So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” You and I buy that part of his claim. We realize that the application of our faith is at least a part of the proof of our faith. It’s the subject matter that comes just before this verse that concerns us. For you see, these verses talk about how we apply our faith, but they speak of that application in terms of how we treat other people.

James first example is one of distinction – if we make distinctions, he says, we have become “judges with evil thoughts.” He then makes the case that we are to treat the poor with generosity, fairness, and a sincere lack of distinction. In fact, James makes the point that God has actually shown favoritism to the poor by offering the riches of the kingdom of heaven to them. We might take umbrage with that idea – that is until we remember that we were the ones described as gentile dogs – we were the poor in this world’s eyes, and God has already shown favoritism toward us by offering the gospel of His good grace to you and to me.

One of the things that gives me the greatest pride concerning our congregation is our involvement at Our Daily Bread. We don’t have a huge role, but our children have helped serve there each of the last two summers, and some of our church members regularly serve and take food to them, and we helped them raise the funds to help build their present facility. We could do more, but I certainly like that we are involved in that ministry. Outside the new building is that great wall, depicting Christ in the bread line. You’ve seen it – it is rather striking – etched in that black marble.

Jesus came and stood in our soup line. He became poor, for us. He offered us the riches of His Father – Who is now our Father. We are blessed beyond measure, gentiles that we were. And now we are privileged to share the grace of Christ with all those who still need to hear the gospel.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Why Don’t You Wash Your Hands?

2006-09-03T07:56:00.000-07:00

13th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Have you ever noticed how much people like to tell other people what to do? I’ve tried to become a little more selective when I offer my suggestions to others. I’m still willing to offer an opinion, but offering suggestions to others takes on an entirely different set of “problem possibilities.” I’ll mention just a couple of these problems. First, there’s always the possibility that you will be caught not doing the very thing that you suggested the other person do, and you then end up with the label “hypocrite.” Another possibility would be that you suggest something to another person, not knowing all the possible ramifications of the possible outcomes of your suggestions, and then the other person heeds your advice, and life begins to go badly for that person. Then you are saddled with the label of being a “giver of bad advice.” We could probably play this little game for quite a while.

When we arrive at chapter 7 of Mark, the Pharisees and their scribes have returned to the scene. They were rather obviously missing from chapter 6, but evidently they have now “regrouped” and have shown up in force to take their next best shot at Jesus. This time, the target was His disciples.

Jesus’ disciples were under constant scrutiny. It was true in Jesus’ day, and it is true today. This time they are the target of the religious leaders of that day. It seems that often Jesus’ disciples are under the scrutiny of those obsessed with greater and greater orthodoxy.

That’s one thing that bothers me about orthodoxy. Orthodoxy presupposes regulation on relationship. I can illustrate. I have three siblings – you’ve met all three of them. I am close to each of them, but was closest in age to my brother, Tony. We were separated by only 13 months, and were raised a little like twins are raised. I still remember the day that Dad let me go someplace, and Tony wasn’t allowed to “tag along.” But that was when I was in the seventh grade. Up until that time, we were rather inseparable. During our childhood and youth years, Mother and Dad would instruct us in how we were to get along with one another. He and I got along rather well, for brothers, but there was the occasional disagreement. They, and others, tried to help us define our relationship.

However, there came a time in our lives when it really became no body else’s business how Tony and I defined our relationship. We knew how we wanted to relate to each other, and no one could really tell us how we were “supposed” to relate.

I’ve noticed two groups of people in our world. There is the one group who presupposes that they know how every person is to relate with God, and there is the group who realize that they can’t possibly define another person’s relationship with God. I am most disturbed by the former group, and so I attempt to live as a member of that second group of people. I don’t always succeed.

Well, I’ve gone to preachin’. Let me take us back to the text. The Pharisees and their scribes were strict followers of the law. Barbara Reid of Catholic Theological Union in Chicago says that “prescriptions for ritual washing of hands and feet before entering the tent of meeting are given by Moses to Aaron and his sons in Exodus 30:19; 40:12. By the second century B.C.E.. some Jews who were not priests had voluntarily assumed the practice of washing hands before morning prayer and before eating. Some wanted to impose these and other such observances on all Jews. It was mainly urban elites who defined and maintained this ‘traditions of the elders’ (v.3). This tradition would be very difficult to observe for itinerants such as Jesus, or for his followers who were mainly peasant farmers and fisherfolk, due to lack of water for ritual ablutions and contact with pollutants such as dead fish.”[1] In other words, the orthodox practices originally given to the Priests were now by the Pharisees being translated into ritual practices which were becoming reasonably accepted as practices to be imposed on the general population of Jews.

Jesus identified this practice and their intent with a quote from Isaiah – “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.” Then Jesus said to them, “You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

It seems that even then, the practice of adding to the law was in vogue. That kind of thing happens all the time in Christianity these days. We assume a personal position of obedience, come to a realization that “if it’s good for me, it’s got to be good for everyone else,” and then we go full force trying to impose it on others.

Cornerstone – here is the caution for us – individually, and as a congregation of faithful followers. Jesus’ teachings are often in opposition to mainstream thinking – to what most consider the “obvious” way of thinking. We must always be careful not to impose our human thinking on the spiritual direction of God. Through the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, God is perfectly capable of interpreting the will of God for other’s lives. As witnesses to the Father, we are to tell the world what God has said, and then allow the Spirit of God freedom to interpret as He desires.

Did you find yourself squirming a little this morning as the scriptures were being read? I know that I did. James always has a way of “eating my lunch,” and these words from our Lord are indicting to even the most trustworthy of servants. Defilements come out of us all – defilement is universal. There is not a man, woman, or child among us who does not stand guilty of the things Jesus lists in this passage, or the things that James mentions in his epistle. We are all guilty. We are all defiled.

To answer the question asked by the Pharisees, Jesus doesn’t tell us not to wash our hands. Right living is never a bad idea. And doing things to show God our attempts at being pure as we approach God are all good things. There is a sense in which we ought to let the Pharisees off the hook a little. A little disclaimer here – I stole this morning’s title from Samuel Candler. He wrote a powerful sermon on this passage 6 years ago. I know it was powerful – because several people that I read referred to his sermon. Anyway, Candler suggests that the Pharisees were doing something that you and I still try to do today – they were attempting to make holy acts which were common. They washed before their meals, trying to make something holy out of what was merely a common meal. Candler suggests that you and I do the same thing today. We offer blessings before we eat, attempting to make something holy out of a very common act. We pray before we do a lot of things – always attempting to invoke God’s blessing and favor on the act we are about to perform.[2]

It’s not a bad thing, asking for God’s blessing. It turns into a bad thing, though, when we try to hold God responsible for our irresponsibilities, our lack of preparation, our unwillingness to follow the teachings of God, and our insistence that the mere act of praying itself ought to guarantee the outcome of our actions. And we don’t do ourselves any favors when we insist that everyone else approach their prayer lives the way we approach ours.

A couple of other things for our consideration this morning. Earlier, I said that Jesus’ teachings are often in opposition to mainstream thinking – to what most consider the “obvious” way of thinking. Jesus has a tendency to radically flip our thinking upside down. This is a great example. The Pharisees were insistent that it was what went into the person that defiled the person. They avoided ingestion of all kinds of things. Go back and read your Levitical law – there was a laundry list of things that the Jews were to avoid.

Jesus turned their world upside down. He was pretty adamant about it when He said, “Listen to me, all of you and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” It’s not what goes in – it’s what comes out. The stuff that God made – it’s all good. So it’s not the good stuff that goes in that defiles a person – it’s what comes out – that which is conceived in our minds and our hearts and ultimately expressed in our actions that defiles a person.

I tell you, friends – this list that Jesus puts out there haunts me. Elsewhere in the scriptures, He says that if we’re guilty of any sin, we’re guilty of them all. There’s some of these sins I don’t want to be guilty of – but I am.

Jesus said it’s what comes out of our mouths that defiles us. I think that statement is true in a general sense, and it’s true in a specific sense. I’ll mention one item that’s on the list. Slander. You could add gossip to that list, quite easily. It has about the same effect. When we speak about other persons, we do harm to that person. That’s the lesson from James, later in the chapter. He talks about the tongue, and reminds us that the tongue is like the rudder on a large ship – it steers the direction of that great vessel. It’s the same in our lives.

I have a friend who has a statement that he makes when a well-meaning church member starts to tell him something about another person. He says this: “Be careful what you tell me, because in telling me, you really tell me three things: you tell me what you think of that other person; you also tell me what you think about yourself; and in your telling, you tell me something about what you think about me.” That turns out to be a pretty good rule of thumb when it comes to slander and gossip. We accomplish so much more than we intend. We inform our hearers, certainly, what we think of the person of whom we speak. That was probably our intent. But we do more than that – we tell our hearers what we think about ourselves – about our ability to love, tolerate, and forgive others. And finally, we tell our hearers something of what we think of their character – are they the kind of person who likes to listen to complaints and charges brought against another person?

Paul makes five statements in the 4th chapter of Romans that help us with application this morning. He says:

1. v.13 “Therefore let us not judge one another anymore, but rather determine this-- not to put an obstacle or a stumbling block in a brother's way.”

2. v. 15 “For if because of food your brother is hurt, you are no longer walking according to love. Do not destroy with your food him for whom Christ died.”

3. v.17 “for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”

4. v. 19 “So then let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another.”

5. v. 22 “The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves.”

Wise words for us all. You and I – we seek to please God. Every person in this room wants to please God. We do so best as we serve others. Rules are important, but we serve others best when we remember that relationships are a whole lot more important. We help others the most when we encourage the development of the faith relationship that they have with God – that personal relationship which exists between God and every autonomous individual God has created.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

1 Lectionary Homiletics, “Proper 17 – Exegesis,” Barbara E. Reid, vol. 17, No. 5, p.37.

2 Samuel Candler - "Why Don't You Wash Your Hands?" - http://www.day1.net/index.php5?view=transcripts&tid=214

Don’t You Wish Faith Was Easier?

2006-08-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

12th Sunday after Pentecost

John 6: 56-69

Don’t you wish faith was easier?

I would have liked to have been there when this particular exchange between Jesus and His disciples took place. I think I would have been uncomfortable, but still – I would have liked to have been there.

The crowd is thinning. When we started the chapter, Jesus and the boys were having to deal with a huge crowd – 5000 men plus women and children, and they were all hungry. The crowd follows them around the lake the next morning, and then Jesus starts thinning the crowd out, just by His teaching. He has a little confrontation with the Pharisees, and we arrive at our passage for this morning. We don’t know for sure, but it looks as though by the end of this chapter, the crowd has thinned down to just the twelve disciples. Just the twelve . . .

The questions were haunting. They still are . . . John tells us that some from the larger crowd were offended by what Jesus was saying. “This is hard. This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?”

I wonder what they thought was so hard? Was it this life of faith to which Jesus calls us, or was it faith itself – faith, as a means to an end?

I wonder if they were they troubled by the notion that they were being invited to participate in the death of Jesus? You do realize that’s what we did here just a little while ago – when we shared communion? You do realize that we acknowledged that we are counting on the death of Jesus for our salvation? You do realize that when we take this meal, that we are saying to the world that we are relying on the broken body and the shed blood of Jesus – that those gifts were enough to purchase our redemption, and that we want to share in His Body and His Blood? You do realize that’s what happens when we take that meal, don’t you? It isn’t a meaningless ritual. It means the same thing as it did the night He gave up His life.

I wonder if they were troubled by the notion that there was something spiritual attached to this life of faith – that their response to Jesus hinged on something more than the physical – that their spiritual response to Jesus would be their sacrifice – their thanks offering to God for their salvation? Jesus basically answers them by saying, “You think this is hard?? What if I were not here? What if I were to ascend back to My Father – back where I was before? What if I weren’t here to help you?”

I suppose I am even more troubled by Jesus second question. The “sideline disciples” – the ones who were always hanging around, but hadn’t really committed to Jesus – they left. Jesus put it out there as plain as He could, and they walked away. Someone suggested that the parallel passage to this one from the synoptic gospels is where Jesus says, “Take up your cross and follow me,” referring to His insistence that we give up our claims to this earthly life in hopes of claiming a spiritual life. I wonder if that’s the deal they walked away from – the simple idea that the flesh and this life and all that we know – that we must give up those things and move into the realm of the spiritual – in order to find eternal life? I wonder if that’s what sent them packing?

Jesus’ second question haunts us. “Do you also wish to go away?”

Lots of people answer that question with a resounding “YES!!” “What you ask is too hard, Jesus. We can’t do it. We love our lives, or at least the pursuit of our lives. We love our families, and our work, and our play, and our homes, and our possessions – we love our past, our present and our future – and we can’t conceive that you would ask us to leave all that to take up a spiritual life. It’s too hard. What you ask is just too hard!!” Yeah – lots of people answer that one with a great, big “YES!!”

There’s no question about it, Cornerstone!! Faith is hard. This life of faith is hard. I struggle with it. You struggle with it. Everything we know works against it. Right up front, Jesus calls us to find what we are looking for – what we need – by faith. How does that Pauline definition go – “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen?” There’s nothing to hold on to – in fact, the very definition of faith is “letting go.” But everything we know works against that. We are people who possess and rule and accumulate – chasing our dreams of autonomy and self-sufficiency until the day they lay us to rest. We are people who create and convert and manipulate and restructure until our world looks more like we want it to look. We conceive all that we conceive – what was, what is, and what will be – as being substantive – things we can touch and smell and taste and hold. Jesus calls us to leave all that behind – to take hold of a promise – by faith. It’s hard. There’s no question it’s hard. It’s so hard – lots of folks give up. It’s just too hard.

Don’t you wish faith was easier? It shouldn’t be so hard – after all, isn’t faith just “believing?”

There’s a great discussion taking place in cyberspace right now. It started several months ago, and has intensified over the summer. The discussion is centered around three questions – (1) what does someone have to believe to be a Christian, (2) what does someone have to believe to be an orthodox Christian, and (3) what does someone have to believe for a Christian to choose to have table fellowship with that person?

Over the centuries, people have asked and answered these same questions. For example, you listened to the choir sing the “Apostle’s Creed” this morning. Let me remind you of the text of the creed.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day He arose again from the dead.
He ascended into heaven
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,
whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy *catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and life everlasting.

Amen.

Now, when you and I start to list the things we believe, we might list things differently. But I suspect most of us would list the things that we find in the Apostle’s Creed as high on the list of things we believe. We would acknowledge the triune nature of God, as best we understand it. We would comment on the creative and redemptive work of God. We would acknowledge the life that Jesus lived in all of its fullness. We would agree that there is both a heaven and a hell, one of which is in our future. And we would acknowledge that what transpires in this life has something to do with what transpires in the next life. We would list most of those things that are stated in the Creed.

But Baptists decided long ago that we are not creedal people. We learned from our previous experience as people of faith that creeds have a bad habit of alienating people from the church. In fact, we learned that dogmatism, in most of its forms, has a way of pushing people out of the church. We learned that orthodoxy creates hierarchies within the church, relegating some members of the body of Christ to positions of secondary and even tertiary prominence, and generally causing division and grief within the body of Christ. We learned all of those things in our faith pilgrimage.

And so, because of our previous experience, we opted for a wider acceptance of people of diverse theological thought. Frankly, we reversed the order of the questions that are currently being asked. We first asked ourselves “what does someone have to believe for a Christian to choose to have table fellowship with that person?” We answered that question like we thought Jesus would answer the question. We’ll sit down at the table with anyone. It doesn’t matter what they believe – our purpose may change because of what that person believes – but there is no limitation to whom we will sit with at table.

It turns out that for most of us, that second question has little merit. We don’t understand an orthodoxy that segregates Christians – either from each other, or from unbelievers. That’s up to Jesus, if He so desires.

Which pretty much leaves us with the first question – what does someone have to believe to be a Christian? We’d like to be able to answer that question – but it really is the question of faith, isn’t it. And faith isn’t easy.

So, Jesus asked His question. “Do you also wish to go away?” It is a haunting question. Most of us have asked that very question of ourselves. “Could I walk away from this life of faith? Do I rely too much on my own abilities and schemes – do I rely on how I live my life as merit for my salvation?”

When the day comes to an end, perhaps we listen more carefully to the words of Simon Peter when he answers. I don’t know if he was answering for the group – he had a habit of doing that, you know. I suspect he was answering first for himself, and secondarily for the group. “Lord, to whom can we go?”

I don’t know that there’s a more honest response. “Lord, if there were a better deal out there, we’d certainly be taking a look at it. But You seem to be the real deal. You have the words of eternal life. We’ve listened to You, over and over. We’ve watched you live Your life out in front of us, and we’ve searched Your heart and ours. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. You are the One we were looking for. You are it.”

“Where else would we go?”

That may be the most honest answer we can give to this life of faith.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Requiring the Hunger of the Inner Man

2006-08-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

11th Sunday after Pentecost

John 6: 51-59

I want to thank J.D. for preaching last week. You have all said that he did a good job, and that he ought to preach again. I told him about the good reports I had received from you all, and he said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” He suggested that I move down my list of church members – that all of you need a turn in the pulpit.

Don’t let that little conversation leave your thoughts this morning – it may actually serve as something of an introduction to our sermon idea for today.

This last week in Prayer Meeting, we looked at the first two verses of the second chapter of Colossians. I camped out on that 2nd verse, which reads, “that their hearts may be encouraged, having been knit together in love, and attaining to all the wealth that comes from the full assurance of understanding, resulting in a true knowledge of God’s mystery, that is, Christ Himself . . .”

I love that verse. It has become something of a personal “future reality” description of our ministry together – in other words, when I think of what I want Jesus and His followers to say of our ministry together, this verse will do just fine.

I think it couples nicely with the gospel lesson for this morning, and to some degree, the Ephesian epistle as well – especially that 17th verse, where Paul says, “Do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.”

When I think of that Colossians verse, I quickly see two parts to Paul’s thinking. The first part of the verse speaks to the corporate function of the church – that our hearts are encouraged, because they have been knit together in love. I work hard at trying to make this a reality in our fellowship. Over these eight years, you have heard more sermons than one would normally hear in a church like ours on the subject of church unity and purpose. It has been my thinking that in our formative years, we needed to hear a word from God that was encouraging and uniting – calling us together before we are sent out into the world. I do not regret any of this investment of time and energy – our efforts in this vein have served us well. We are a loving church, and we have a disposition that is unique to churches – we applaud our diversity while we move down life’s path together. This has been a good walk – I do not regret it, and you do not regret.

But when I look at the second part of that verse, the part which reads, “attaining to all the wealth that comes from the full assurance of understanding, resulting in a true knowledge of God’s mystery, that is, Christ Himself . . ,” I see something of a statement that takes us from where we are to where we shall be in the future.

Do you ever think about our future? What God might hold in store for us in future days, months, and years? I do. I think about it probably more than I should. I hope that we will all grow in Christ – in a knowledge of Christ, and Jesus’ purposes for our lives – even as we go through the ups and downs of numeric attendance over time.

You haven’t had an Amy illustration for a couple of weeks. Just last week, I put a couple of pictures of Amy up on the door in my office. They were taken the day I brought her home. She was not quite eight weeks old, and she was as cute as a puppy can be. But that was June 3rd – nearly 10 weeks ago. Amy isn’t a little puppy anymore. She is growing and learning. Even though she is still small, she isn’t as small as she was – she is in process. She is growing. And she is learning. She is responding well to our training, learning new tricks nearly every day. I’m really proud of her.

I think Christ wants the same for us. Jesus desires that we grow and learn. So, in the spirit of a little 8th year evaluation, I don’t think that I’ve neglected our spiritual growth – speaking of depth of Christian character, knowledge of Biblical and theological truths, and the application of what we know in how we live our lives. I don’t think we’ve neglected that part of the work – but we have majored on encouragement and growing together as a Christian community of believers. I sense a transition coming to us – we might be moving to a time where we seek to major a little more on our spiritual growth – that it might be said of us that we were “attaining to all the wealth that comes from the full assurance of understanding, resulting in a true knowledge of God’s mystery, that is, Christ Himself.”

So, to the gospel for today. Unless you have spent a little time during the course of the last several weeks looking at the big picture, you might have lost sight of what has been going on. Let me review just a little. At the first of the chapter, Jesus crossed the Sea of Galilee, only to find a huge, hungry crowd. He fed them. They were duly impressed. Jesus picked up on their impression, realized that their intentions were to take Him by force and make Him king, and so He slipped away by Himself into the mountains. As night fell, the disciples got back in the boats to cross back to Capernaum, and the sea got a little rowdy, as that little lake is prone to do. Jesus walks out on the water to His disciples, and they are rescued from the storm. They were impressed, again.

The next morning, the crowd realizes that Jesus has left them on the Galilee side, and so they trot around the lake to the Capernaum side, and catch up with Jesus, asking Him how he got there. At this point, Jesus enters into this long discussion about bread – how they wanted bread, He had provided it for them, and that they ought to be looking for the Bread of Life. They ask Him some more questions, and everything is getting a little serious.

We’re at verse 41 now. There is a subtle change in who comprises the crowd. Notice that verse 41 begins with the words, “The Jews.” The indication is that as Jesus starts identifying Himself as having been sent from the Father, two things happen – 1. the crowd starts thinning out a little, and 2. the Jewish leaders step forward to start asking some questions of their own. Jesus enters into a short discourse, aimed directly at the Jewish leaders.

And now we arrive at today’s gospel lesson. Verse 51 – Jesus says, “I am the living bread that came down out of heaven; if anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever, and the bread also which I shall give for the life of the world is My flesh.”

Oops. From a religious political standpoint – big mistake. Cannibalism was strictly prohibited in Jewish dietary laws, and Jesus has just given the Jewish leaders a bit of an opening with his “My flesh” comment. They pounce on it.

Do you folks watch Emeril Lagasse, the chef? He’s the one that’s always saying, “Let’s take this up a notch. Well, Jesus does just that. He takes it up a notch. When the religious leaders question Him, He comes right back – verse 53 - “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves.” He adds the drinking of blood to the scenario – sort of a double insult to their orthodox tastes. And then He does it again in verse 54. You have to dig into the Greek a little to catch this one. Previous to this, Jesus uses the simple word for eat, which simply means to put something in your mouth. But in v. 54, Jesus changes words, and uses the word that is best translated “chew on” or “gnaw” – He says, “He who gnaws my flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”

Cornerstone, I want to make two points with you this morning. They are simple points, but they just may define who we are for years to come. The first point is this. Jesus wants us to get serious with Him, even to the point that we are willing to leave behind our orthodoxy and our religious peccadilloes. When it comes to our faith, we don’t trust anyone but Jesus. Jesus wants us to follow Him – as though there is no one else to follow. As He puts it elsewhere – we sell all we have to purchase His field of salvation and redemption. We invest everything we have in His pearl of great price. We leave behind father, mother, sisters, brothers, spouses and children – for the sake of His promise of salvation.

The second point is this – Jesus wants us to get serious with Him, to the point that we really chew on aspects of our faith. We gnaw on His words. Kinda like when you eat good pork ribs. That’s a messy meal. You get your hands and your face just as messy as possible as you gnaw down to the bone on those ribs. Jesus wants that kind of aggressive pursuit of our faith. Our faith leaves the banal realms of stagnation and “same-o-same-o” and moves into a glorious place of redemption through relationship. We gnaw on the Savior – we ask our questions, we struggle with what Jesus tells us and shows us to do, we enter into authentic relationship, and we get personal with our faith. Faith stops being just the religious teachings we count on so much, and it becomes something more like the journey of faith Abraham and Sarah took when they followed God toward His promised land.

What Jesus asks of us is just that simple – trust Jesus like there is no other, and really dig into your faith. It’s not hard to understand. It’s tremendously hard to do.

Pardon me for a long closing, but I ran across a story that Fred Craddock tells, and besides – I didn’t get to preach last week. It seems that Fred was “invited to the University of Winnipeg in Canada to give two lectures, one on a Friday evening and one on Saturday morning. I went. I gave the one on Friday evening. As we left the lecture hall, it was beginning to spit a little snow. I was surprised, and my host was surprised because he had written, “It’s too early for the cold weather, but you might bring a little windbreaker, a little light jacket.” The next morning when I got up, two or three feet of snow pressed against the door. The phone rang, and my host said, “We’re all surprised by this. In fact, I can’t come and get you to take you to any breakfast, the lecture this morning has been cancelled, and the airport is closed. If you can make your way down the block and around the corner, there is a little depot, a bus depot, and it has a café. I’m sorry.” I said, “I’ll get around.” I put on that little light jacket; it was nothing. I got my little cap and put it on; it didn’t even help me in the room. I went into the bathroom and unrolled long sheets of toilet paper and made a net in the cap so that it would protect my head against that icy wind.

I went outside, shivering – the wind was cold, the snow was deep. I slid and bumped and finally made it around the corner into the bus station. Every stranded traveler in Western Canada was in there, strangers to each other and to me, pressing and pushing and loud. I finally found a place to sit, and after a lengthy time a man in a greasy apron came over and said, “What’ll you have?” I said, “May I see a menu?” He said, “What do you want a menu for? We have soup.” I said, “What kinds of soup do you have?” And he said, “Soup. You want some soup?” I said, “That was what I was going to order – soup.” He brought the soup, and I put the spoon to it – Yuck! It was the awfulest. It was kind of gray looking; it was so bad I couldn’t eat it, but I sat there and put my hands about it. It was warm, and so I sat there with my head down, my head wrapped in toilet paper, bemoaning and beweeping my outcast state with the horrible soup. But it was warm, so I clutched it and stayed bent over my soup stove.

The door opened again. The wind was icy, and somebody yelled, “Close the door!” In came this woman clutching her little coat. She found a place, not far from me. The greasy apron came, “What do you want?” And she said, “Glass of water.” He brought a glass of water, took out his tablet and said, “Now what will you have?” She said, “Just the water.” He said, “You have to order lady.” “Well, I just want a glass of water.” “Look, I have customers that pay – what do you think this is, a church or something? Now what do you want?” She said, “Just a glass of water and some time to get warm.” “Look, there are people that are paying here. If you’re not going to order, you’ve got to leave!” And he got real loud about it. So she got up to leave and, almost as if rehearsed, everybody in that little café stood up and started toward the door. I got up and said, “I’m voting for something here; I don’t know what it is.” And the man in the greasy apron said, “All right, all right, all right, she can stay.” Everybody sat down, and he brought her a bowl of soup.

I said to the person sitting there by me, “Who is she?” He said, “I never saw her before.” The place grew quiet, but I heard the sipping of that awful soup. I said, “I’m going to try that again.” I put my spoon to the soup – you know, it was not bad soup. Everybody was eating this soup. I started eating the soup, and it was pretty good soup. I have no idea what kind of soup it was. I don’t know what was in it, but I do recall when I was eating it, it tasted a little bit like bread and wine. Just a little like bread and wine.” [1]

We didn’t serve communion today – we will next week. But then, again – we serve the communion of our souls with one another every time these doors are open. Jesus serves our meal. He wants us to really enjoy it.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] (Fred B. Craddock, Craddock Stories, Mike Graves & Richard F. Ward, eds., Chalice Press, 2001, pp. 83-84).

WHICH KING DO YOU SERVE?

2006-08-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

10th Sunday after Pentecost

2nd Samuel 18:5-33

If anyone has been around me for any length of time, they will tell you that I really love stories about kings, knights, medieval battles, and the sorts. In fact, one of my favorite films ever is “Braveheart”. Most of you probably remember this movie. It starred Mel Gibson and won the best picture in 1995. (And, oh by the way, I know Doc Dunn has it in his Best Pictures Collection).

I always admire the bravery and honor that is portrayed by the heroic knight figures or king figures. I also like the sagas about the kingdoms, and the battles that are fought to protect or enlarge the kingdoms. Likewise, I enjoy the old testament stories of the Kings, Princes, and others and how God works in and through them and their lineage.

So, I was intrigued when I saw an article in last Sunday’s local newspaper that was titled “Was David Judaism’s King Arthur?” The article basically contrasted the opinion of 2 sets of archaeologists. One side gave evidence as to how and why David did not even exist. The other side gave evidence as to how he did exist.

With that said, that is why we are mainly looking this Sunday at the old testament scripture from the lectionary. The relationship between King David and his son Absalom is laid out in 2nd Samuel Chapters 13 – 18. The story begins with Absalom’s ½ brother, Amnon, violating Absalom’s sister, Tamar. Absalom became extremely upset as you could imagine. He plotted to kill Amnon and succeeded. It is not clear how David fully reacted to this situation. We only see in Verse 21 of Chapter 13 that David was very angry. What we do know about Absalom, however, is that he began his quest to overthrow his father David as king. In Chapter 15 of 2nd Samuel, Absalom begins making himself as the king’s judge of the people. He makes empty promises to the people and “steals away the hearts of the people of Israel” – as we see in verse 6. The people of Israel begin looking to Absalom as king instead of the rightful king – David.

We don’t really know what caused Absalom to begin the overthrow. Was it his pride, jealousy, selfishness, or just anger over the way David handled the situation with Tamar and Amnon? But, what we do know is it was not Absalom’s appointed time to rule. It was David’s. And, Absalom would most likely be appointed as King after David dies. But, for whatever reason, Absalom decides he is to be king – now.

Aren’t Absalom’s attitude and actions very similar to people – us – in our day? “I want this __________ and I want it now!!!! For Absalom, it was all about ME…I am King… Don’t we also want to be our own kings? Don’t we also want to serve ourselves or make ourselves out to be king instead of serving the king?

Now let’s take a look at the people who were under the Kings rule, the men and women of Israel. As I stated earlier, many were following after Absalom and serving him because of the way he dealt with them – making empty promises – as seen in verses 4 – 6 of Chapter 15. They thought Absalom was a “Nice Guy”. I can hear the people saying “Oh Absalom is so nice.” He is also young, nice looking. You know, he is not as hard on us as David is...and so on and so on… However, many continued to follow David – serving him as the rightful, God appointed king. Needless to say, the kingdom was divided.

But, my attention was drawn to one person in Chapter 15. His name was Ittai the Gittite (see verse 19). This man was given permission by David to go back to his own land along with his relatives (as he was a foreigner) and not face the danger and possible deadly battle between David and his conspiring son, Absalom. But, look at Ittai’s response to David in verse 21. “As the Lord lives and as my lord the king lives, surely wherever my lord the king may be, whether for death or for life, there also your servant will be”. Wow, this man knew who the rightful king was and was willing to give everything he had in service to the king – life or death. And, we see in Chapter 18 verse 2 Ittai was appointed as a commander over 1/3 of the king’s people. David was also apparently impressed by his willingness to serve and give everything he had towards that service no matter what.

Well, what about Absalom? What did he get for his conspiracy to overthrow his father as King? Absalom’s reward for his efforts to take over the kingdom was death. He didn’t get to be king over all of Israel like he wanted. He didn’t get glory. He didn’t get honor. He didn’t sit on the throne. No, all he got was death. And, David lost another son…another would be heir to the kingdom. Absalom’s pursuit of his own selfish desires brought him to death. Isn’t it exactly the same for us when we pursue our own selfish desires as well? They ultimately lead to non fulfillment, disappointment and ultimately - death.

So, which King do you serve? Which King in this day and age do we follow? Who do we give our service to? Who are we loyal subjects to? Is it our job? Is it the pursuit of riches or fame? Is it our family? Is it those or that person we have a significant relationship with? Is it our Church? Or, is it ourselves…much like Absalom?

Or is it the One True King appointed by God also known as Jesus Christ? For you see, in the new testament we find The King. The King foretold of by the prophets. However, this King is not what we expected. He didn’t come with sword, armor and earthly kingdom battles on his mind. No, He came to give us an example of how to truly live a life of service to others. His kingdom He talked about was not on this earth…no it was heavenly and for eternity. And, He was willing to ultimately give up His life as a sacrifice for the redemption of us…his subjects. And now He sits at the right hand of God in heaven awaiting our arrival. WOW, what a King!!!

Is this the King you serve? Are you like Ittai who we read about earlier? Do you recognize the One True King of the universe and are you willing to serve Him wherever and no matter what… life or death? Or, are you like Absalom, looking out for your own selfish desires being your own king? Serve this King… the King of Kings…the Lord of Lords…and truly live…forever. As we heard earlier in the scripture Anna read for us…He is the Bread of Life. There is a quote on the cover of this Braveheart movie…”Every man dies, not every man really lives”. Are you really living? Service to this King offers you life in His Kingdom eternally…

Let’s pray.

J.D.Sarver

Making Every Effort . . . In the Bond of Peace

2006-08-06T15:37:00.000-07:00

9th Sunday after Pentecost

Ephesians 4:1-16

I received an e-mail this week from a friend, and I want to share this little parable with you.

You are driving down the road in your car on a wild, stormy night, when you pass by a bus stop and you see three people waiting for the bus: 1. An old lady who looks as if she is about to die. 2. An old friend who once saved your life. 3. The perfect partner you have been dreaming about.

Which one would you choose to offer a ride, knowing that there could only be one passenger in your car?

This is a moral/ethical dilemma that was once actually used as part of a job application. You could pick up the old lady, because she is going to die, and thus you should save her first. Or you could take the old friend because he once saved your life, and this would be the perfect chance to pay him back. However, you may never be able to find your perfect mate again.

The candidate who was hired (out of 200 applicants) had no trouble coming up with his answer. He simply answered: "I would give the car keys to my old friend and let him take the lady to the hospital. I would stay behind and wait for the bus with the partner of my dreams."

Sometimes, we gain more if we are able to give up our stubborn thought limitations.

Never forget to "Think Outside of the Box."

I have been in a strange (and I am beginning to believe, wonderful) place for the last three weeks – ever since I returned from Children’s camp with our boys. My experiences over these weeks culminated this past Thursday with a lunch meeting in which I was asked to play a role that is rather foreign to me – I was invited to listen while two men told their stories to one another. Except for two clarifying statements, I pretty much just nodded and offered the occasional bit of small talk while I ate my club sandwich and drank my iced tea.

This is a role which is, for me, unusual. I have preferred a different role – that of antagonist and freedom fighter. I have participated in that role so many times in my life, and this week I realized something – it has gotten me nowhere. I haven’t accomplished a thing by assuming that role.

I learned a second thing, I think. Almost without asking, the Lord thrust on me a different role – that of peacemaker. I wanted it to be an active role, but all I was asked and expected to do was to be present.

I’m working from the epistle to the Ephesians today, but I read the gospel for today, and read some of what Will Willimon had to say about today’s gospel lesson. His point – that the gospel isn’t about you, and it isn’t about me – it’s about God. Well, at my lunch meeting on Thursday, the topics at hand and the meeting itself wasn’t about me – the issues at hand were about helping a couple of other Christians get to know one another and one another’s stories to the point that they could better understand each other. I learned a lesson.

Paul said to his Christian friends in Ephesus, “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”

Man, that’s hard to do. You and I live in a world where conflict is everywhere. We experience turmoil on the job, in our homes, in the community, in government, between countries, between parents and children – the list is almost endless as to where our lives are gathered up in conflict and turmoil. All sides call out to us to “pick a side.” We are expected to be people of principle, standing up for what is right in a world where there is so very much that is wrong, and those who draw us into the fracas demand that we “pick a side” and start fighting, right along with the rest of the world.

This week, I was reintroduced to a better way.

Jesus introduced us to a life of peace. Paul picked up on Jesus’ teaching, and reminded us that we are to make every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. That is a high calling. It runs counter to everything in us – to our desires, to our personalities, to our cumulative experiences in conflict resolution. But it is a high calling, nonetheless.

At the lunch on Thursday, one of the men noticed that so very much conflict in religious circles starts out as conflict surrounding a principle or theological opinion, but ends up being a conflict centered around personalities. Two people enter into a struggle, and pretty soon they start enlisting people to join them, not based on the original premise of the conflict, but based on their faithfulness to each other, to additional principles, or to the “rightness of their cause.” I’ve seen it a hundred times. I’ve seen it too many times from the middle of the fight, rarely wondering how I got involved in such a fracas.

Someone asked me this week what I thought my role would be at the lunch, and being in the midst of a personal moment of growth, I responded by saying that I would consider that my role was to be the “Jimmy Carter” at this “Camp David” meeting. You remember Jimmy Carter. I think he is one of the best “ex-presidents” we’ve ever had. Regardless of what you think of his politics, Jimmy Carter has been a spokesperson over these last 30 years for peace and the process of peace. We know much of what he attempted to do while he was President for the cause of world peace, especially in the Middle East. His work has continued after his presidency. His work with Habitat for Humanity has sought to alleviate much of the cause of conflict in the world by helping create affordable housing for people who cannot afford a place to live any other way. He has continued to be involved in helping people work out their differences in a number of venues. Rather recently, President Carter attempted a work of reconciliation between several groups of Baptists. You and I know how Baptists love to fight, don’t we. The success of his efforts may seem dismal at the moment, but time may prove that they have been fruitful.

Jimmy Carter learned something in taking up this cause of peacemaking. The sessions, the discussion, the banter, and any conclusions and reconciliation – these things aren’t about him. They are about the people he is trying to help. He had to learn that lesson. I have had to learn that lesson – again.

You might very well ask, “Pastor, what about our real differences? What about the honest differences?”

I think Paul spoke to this matter. He spoke to it in two ways. First, he spoke to our similarities. He said, “there is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” Paul spoke of our similarities.

After the lunch on Thursday, one of the gentlemen wrote on his website, “He and I are far more alike than we are different. After hearing his story, I discovered that he has faced (and is facing) many of the same struggles I faced. I believe he is a man of integrity. We may not agree on every issue, but we do on most.” I think that would be the testimony of most of us when we get right down to it. We are all far more alike than we are different. We should focus much more of the time on our similarities, and make much less of our differences.

But there are genuine differences. I think Paul addressed that reality as well, when he said, “some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers.” He was using the illustration of diversity of gifts in the body of Christ, but his point was that we should rejoice and delight in our diversity, rather than consider our diversity a point of controversy or a reason for fear or haughtiness or concern. Diversity is a good thing – God has created this to be a diverse world, full of opportunity and expression.

“Can we believe just anything and be okay?” The scripture doesn’t suggest such an idea. The scripture speaks of “sound doctrine,” calling us to speak the “truth.” But there is this caveat – we are to speak the truth “in love.”

I am learning – again – how to do just that. There may be a couple of good rules to employ when learning how to “speak the truth in love.” One rule is this – there is a difference between loving someone and helping someone. Sometimes I get the two confused. Sometimes I try to love someone by helping them. That’s not always what’s best. Sometimes the best thing we can do to show the truth is to just love the other person.

There might be a second rule to “speaking the truth in love.” It’s an old adage – “Better to keep silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.” Sometimes silence is the better proposition.

Oh, while I’m at it, there might be a third rule of thumb to “speaking the truth in love.” I learned this from watching an evangelist some years ago. He was attempting to teach a technique of evangelism where he had another person simply read the scripture he wanted him to digest, and then ask the person what that scripture meant to him. When the person didn’t respond the way the evangelist wanted him to respond, he didn’t try to correct him – he simply asked the person to read the passage again, and again tell what that passage meant.

From that, I think the rule of thumb might very well be as follows: Jesus said some pretty good things. He doesn’t always need us to interpret. We might do well just to repeat what He said, and leave it at that.

We have been issued a high calling. We are to do what we can do – make every effort – to maintain the unity of the Spirit – always in the bond of peace. May God grant us as much wisdom as we have passion to accomplish our calling.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Breadth, Length, Height and Depth

2006-07-30T12:07:00.000-07:00

8th Sunday after Pentecost

Ephesians 3:14-21

You may remember that I am in the process of trying to collect on DVD all of the Academy Award winning movies. One of my favorite of those movies is Forrest Gump. I loved it when it first came out – it was one of the few movies I actually went to the theatre to see. Over the years we have acquired both VCR and DVD copies of the movie, and pretty much any time I am flipping the channels and stumble across a replay of the movie, I am probably hooked for the next couple of hours.

I remember the first time I noticed the description of the movie in the T.V. guide – it was one of the least intriguing descriptions I had ever read – if I had never seen the movie, and had simply read the description, I probably wouldn’t have watched it. The description read, “a slow-witted Southerner experiences 30 years of history.” Although it’s accurate, that’s a terrible description of the Best Picture from 1995. Forrest Gump is about so much more than simply the 30 years of history encompassed in the movie, or the life of one slightly slow Southerner. It is about family, friendship, meaning, purpose, possibilities, and generally the inexplicability of this life.

I sometimes wonder about what people think about the story told in the gospels – more than that, the story told in our Bible. What would the T.V. Guide writers say about the Bible? I shudder to think – they might say something as banal as “the perception of humans as they consider the possibility of God interacting with mankind.” Boy, wouldn’t that make you want to run out and buy the book!!

The story of Almighty God’s interaction with the people of His creation is magnificent. All of the Old Testament portion of the story suggests that God has an incredible plan for humankind, and as the story unfolds, we begin to realize that with our limited spiritual vision, we only glimpse the smallest part of that simple truth. We resonate with the psalmist when he says, “The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” While we live this life of faith without incontrovertible proof of God, there is a great body of evidence, not only for the existence of God, but for the purposeful interaction of God in our lives.

Then comes Jesus. In His birth, in His life, in His death, and in His resurrection, Jesus shows us God – in the flesh. Suddenly we realize that the God Who had a plan for humankind also has a plan for individual people. Every person is important to God. Jesus came, lived, and died for each one of them, and He is interested in the complete well being of every person – in every way. It is a comprehensive plan for each of us, and although through faith we discover a little bit more of the plan as we move down life’s path, we realize at any particular moment that God’s plan for us is complete in every way.

We resonate once again – this time with the Apostle Paul, as he says those wonderful words of hope and promise and fulfillment – “so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.” Those words fill our minds and our hearts – even our very beings – as we consider the possibilities of knowing God and the fullness of God’s love. We cry out in our souls, “Oh, yes, God.”

I ran into a wonderful quote this week in my study of this passage. Joretta Marshall said, “This text suggests how important it is to be as expansive as possible in talking about God and in relation to God. God is beyond our human knowledge and our comprehension. No amount of theological clarity will ever exhaust the completeness or fullness of God.”

I like what she said. I certainly don’t know all that Paul had in mind when he used these words. But it’s my calling to help us consider the possibilities. These are wonderful words – full of possibility and suggestion, and they may need a little of our imaginative help in order to consider what Paul may have meant. Let me suggest some contemporary synonyms of his four words for our consideration today. He used the words breadth, length, height and depth. We might consider these synonyms – liberality, comprehensiveness, elevation, and profoundness.

When Paul used the word “breadth” to describe the love of God in God’s interaction with people, he may very well have been referring to the liberality of God’s love. By that we might infer that God’s love is extended to all people, regardless of whether that love will be received by that person or returned. We might choose to believe that God intended to interact with every person who every walked the face of the planet, regardless of whether that person ever responded to the interest of God in their life or not.

Now, this is going to be a terrible illustration, but here goes – I now have two bird dogs. One of them is more than eight years old. Crockett and I have hunted together for eight years, and we know each other rather well. He knows the mistakes I’m going to make, and the things that I will do well, and the vice is versa. Several weeks ago, Amy the pup came to live at our house – the bird dog of my future. Right now she is soaking up the learning – I try to work with her about 10 minutes each evening on commands, and she is responding pretty well. I hope that we have many wonderful years ahead of us hunting together.

Crockett is not sure why we need Amy around. From pretty much the first day she showed up, he has leered at her out of the corner of his eye, and growls at her every time she approaches his food bowl or tries to take his tennis ball away. I think that he thinks that I’ve replaced him. What he doesn’t know is what I suspect will be true. Sometime this winter, when I take both dogs out to hunt, I imagine that young Amy will frustrate this old hunter, and I will put her in the box and pull out my trusted friend Crockett. I don’t love one of them more than the other, and for my purposes in this old world, and for different reasons, I need both of them.

Multiply my personal scenario exponentially, and you’ll have some glimpse into the liberality of God’s love. As far as we know, God has extended God’s love to every person ever created – every person to have walked the face of this earth. Furthermore, God has desired to be in relationship with each and every person who has ever existed.

When we consider the length of God’s love, we might very well entertain the comprehensive nature of it. We consider all the areas of our life where God has interest in us. God is concerned, certainly, about our salvation and our redemption. We know that God is concerned for our well being – God is like a Shepherd to the sheep. We suspect God is concerned for our purposes. Those things are rather given when we think about us and God. But God may very well be interested in more of our lives than that. God may be interested in our ideas, and our hopes, and our desires, and our dreams, and our possibilities. When God redeems the person, God wants to redeem the whole person – the good, the bad and the ugly.

It’s kind of a better or worse kind of scenario. Here we do well to consider the parental model. When we have children, we take on the entire child. Every parent is in the same lifetime extremely proud of their youngster, and from time to time rather disappointed. But we love the child, and we love them in their goodness and in their badness. We love them when they function beyond what we expect, and we love them when they fall woefully short of expectations. We’re in it for the long haul with our kiddos, and they are a part of us.

It’s something like that with God, I think. God wants so much for us, and God is disappointed in us when we fall short. But God redeems the whole person, and I think has desires for our well being in areas of our life where we hardly take time to consider. The love and care of God is comprehensive.

Paul says that he hopes that we come to know the height. I hope I’m not duplicating territory here this morning – I’m trying to offer more insight. The love and concern of God elevates humanity.

I have something of an illustration. You know that I love the outdoors. This weekend we took the children over to Canton Lake on a campout for the last of their Summer DAZE programs. While we were there, we cooked over Coleman stoves, and experienced light from Coleman lanterns. There was a day and time when light was something of a luxury. Lighting was a valued resource. Not so much today. We flip the switch and there is light. It is automatic and instantaneous – if we paid the OGE bill, and making exception for the occasional ice storm, of course. As we have modernized our society, we have been able to do more and more with our lives.

Well, that’s not the best of examples, but maybe it gets to the point. Our God elevates our existence with God’s love and concern and interest. Not only has God redeemed us from the lowest point of existence – God has elevated us in Christ. We looked at a companion passage this last week at Prayer Meeting from the first chapter of Colossians, where Paul says, “For He delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son.” But beyond that, God has elevated us to God’s purposes in the plan of redemption. In other words, we are not only redeemed people, but we are active participants in the spread of redemption as we tell people about the love of God for all people. This kind of elevation by God occurs in all aspects of our lives. We are elevated in our praise, we are elevated in our service, we are elevated in our living out of our daily lives – God’s purpose in us elevates us to new and greater levels of existence.

Well, for the last of Paul’s words, he speaks of the depth of God’s care and love. We might consider the profoundness of God’s love. When you break down that word – profound – you have two ideas – pro – really speaking of being in favor of something, and found – the idea that we are discovered. When we think of the word “profound,” we rather say, “Wow, look what I discovered!!”

In our relationship with God, we respond that way regarding God, and interestingly enough, God responds that way regarding us. We look at God, and God looks at us, and we can say hardly more than “WOW!!! Look what I’ve found!!” When we think of the expansiveness of God, we are overwhelmed with Who God is, and what God does. But God sees things exactly the same way – loving us and desiring us with just the same amazement.

What, if anything, do we do in response to the love of God? The scripture suggests in every way that we respond. The scripture encourages God’s people to embrace the love and care of God – to respond with every fiber of our beings. Some in our society think that God works independently of us in terms of this relationship, and that would be accurate – but only to a point. God has purposefully entered into relationship with us, and God desires our response. We respond best when we embrace the love, care, and direction of God as we respond in gratitude, love, and obedience.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Gathered Around the Compassionate Jesus

2006-07-23T12:32:00.000-07:00

7th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 6:30-34; Ephesians 2:11-22

Beginning this morning, the lectionary camps out in the 6th chapter of Mark and then the 6th chapter of John for the next six weeks. So we have some time to get a little more nitty-gritty with the text and the stories.

I like it when the lectionary does this – lets us spend a little quality time with one of the gospel writers.

Whenever that happens, I start to look for “the point” of each particular lesson. The likelihood that the gospel and the epistle have something to do with one another increases, and that’s helpful to an old preacher. Today’s gospel lesson grabs vs. 30-34, and then jumps ahead to vv. 53-56. In between those passages, Jesus feeds the five thousand, and then walks on the water. We get those stories later. For now, we look at the bookends to the stories.

A little more context – prior to this week’s gospel lessons we have the story of Jesus sending out the 12 in pairs, and the beheading of John the Baptist. The John the Baptist story starts to put things in perspective, and then the disciples return from their little “mission trip” and report to Jesus what happened and what they were able to accomplish – kind of a debriefing. That’s where we pick up the gospel for this morning.

I always look for something in the text that jumps out at me. Maybe I need it right now, but that phrase “the apostles gathered around Jesus” spoke volumes to me this week.

I hope that’s what happens to you each week when you come to worship. It’s what happens to me – I feel like I’ve gathered up to Jesus, and I’m waiting to see what He has to say. This week, His message is rest. “Take a break. Step away for a little while. Take some rest for your soul, and recoup just a little.”

We’ve been having to do that this week - with this oppressive heat and all. You’d work a little while, and then retreat to the air conditioning. Friday’s temperatures were a welcome break – I waited until Friday to mow. While we were at camp this week, we would walk or ride from one building to the other, and then while the boys expended a little of their limitless energy, I’d sit and experience the quiet and the cool for just a few minutes before I moved to the next assignment. I hope it’s not an age thing . . .

But this was something different that Jesus was suggesting to the disciples. Ministry requires some time away to recoup. Jesus was the master. As you read the gospels, we find that Jesus would move effortlessly between engagement and disengagement. He would move into a ministry situation, and then move away to take a little rest – have a little quiet time to Himself. He knew the value of the well timed rest. Now He’s trying to teach the disciples something of the same, because the crowds are evidently starting to take a toll on the apostles just like they did on Jesus.

Several years ago – well, really more than 20 years ago now – I was serving on staff of a rather large church in Dallas – Casa View Baptist. One summer we took a mission trip to Minnesota. I was about 25, and we were taking more than 40 adults on this particular trip. Two of the other staff members and I flew up there in advance of our trip to look things over and make plans and arrangements. Two days before the trip began, I was called up to the church for an emergency meeting. Our Minister of Music, who was heading up the trip, had gone to the doctor the previous day and discovered that he had cancer – and would be entering the hospital the day after we left on the trip. So the leadership of the trip was handed over to me, and the pastor assured me that he would be along for support. On the way from Dallas to Minnesota, we spent the night in St. Louis, and after checking into the hotel, the group went over to the stadium to watch a baseball game.

I remember thinking that this was odd – taking time off while we were on a mission trip. But as I reflect back on that experience, and so many other mission trips over the years which have allowed for the same kind of time off, I realize the value of this movement away from the task at hand to take a little rest.

Jesus did this so very well, and now He is trying to teach His disciples to do the same. I see a difference, though. When Jesus stepped away for a little while, he seemed to really step away – He went off by Himself, and never really invited the others to come along. Now, His advice to the apostles is that they gather away with Him in seclusion. That’s the difference for us – we take our respite, but we take it with Jesus.

Here’s why. Jesus is, for us, a source of compassion. You know Chelsea has a new job – working out at the Enid Senior Care as their Social Services director and Activities Director. It’s really designed to be two jobs, but when client count is low, often one person has to take on both jobs, and that’s the way it is right now. Due to three recent deaths, the client count is a bit lower. Each of these deaths has impacted Chelsea, but she’s handled things well. I told her the other day that she’s going to have to learn how to practice empathy rather than sympathy, or these deaths would really wear on her. I told her that she needed some separation from her work when she went home at night. She said something like “Hey, kettle – this is pot – you’re black . . .”

Truth is, ministry is tough. When you minister, you give away something of yourself. Bottom line – you can’t continue to give and give without taking time to replenish. Jesus knew this. His disciples needed to know. We need to know.

Another thing - when you minister, and do it well, more and more people want you to minister to them. The disciples were starting to run into this problem. When they started out, the crowds weren’t all that large. Now people were everywhere. Just as soon as they heeded Jesus’ advice and took off across the lake, the crowd figured out what they were doing and followed them over there, and by the time they got there, there were more than 5000 (just counting the men – the actual number could have been quite a bit larger) – and they were hungry to boot. Later, they slip back across the lake, and when they arrive, more people mob them – all of them needing help. Sometimes, ministry is tough.

I am developing an early friendship with a pastor I’ve met through the Internet. This week we conversed through a couple of e-mails, and in his last e-mail to me, he said something quite helpful to me at the time. He said, “Take good care of yourself, man. It is a tough road for us sometimes. You are in my prayers. Our salvation is only assured by the kindness of a God who wishes us all saved. But he asks for much. The least we can do is pray for one another.”

We gather around the compassionate Jesus. We gather around Him because of Who He is. He is our God – in the flesh – and He loves us – more than we can possibly love ourselves. He knows our weaknesses, and so He bestows compassion on us. It is in His chosen nature to show compassion to those who are in need of nurture, rest, help, comfort, and renewed resources for the journey.

Did you notice the action that Jesus took when He showed compassion? He taught them. He and the boys in the band had stepped aside for a little rest, and they were interrupted by this throng of people. Mark’s words reflect on the lack of leadership the people experienced from their earthly king, Herod. He said, “for they were like sheep without a shepherd.” How disappointing our earthly leaders often are. They offer grand promises of success and freedom and opportunity and profit, only to deliver to us more work for less pay and longer hours. But Jesus – Jesus offers us something greater than we can imagine. Jesus offers us the compassion of greater resources for the journey. He offers us knowledge that will equip us for more effective service and for a greater appreciation of what He has given us in this world.

Let’s shift our attention for a moment to the epistle. Turn back over with me to Ephesians 2. There in v. 14, Paul says, “For he is our peace.” And then in v. 17, he says, “So He came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.” The context of Paul’s teaching is in reference to the alienation between Jews and Gentiles in relation to God’s offering of salvation. But the larger implication of this idea that Jesus is our peace, and that He offers peace to us is huge to us.

Like much of the world, I have been watching the events unfold during this past week in the Middle East. I was 10 years old and in Vacation Bible School June 5 – 10, 1967, and remember watching what has come to be called the six day war between Israel and Egypt. Hardly a year has gone by in those last 39 years in which saber rattling has not occurred in that region, often resulting in increased violence and bloodshed. Over these 40 years, our ears have virtually become numb to reports of conflict in the Middle East – we’ve come to expect it.

We see conflict in other parts of the world. Constant watchfulness in Asia, Eastern Europe, sub-Saharan Africa, and much of Central and South America. Conflict all around us – almost constantly.

We long for peace. We long for the peace that Jesus promises and gives. We long for our world to know the peace of Christ which we have experienced in our lives. We know that the solution to the resolution of human suffering and bondage, wars and conflicts, social struggle and unrest, can be found in the peace that Jesus promises and gives to those who will gather away with Him for a little rest.

We long for peace. We know where to find God’s peace. He is our peace. He gives us peace.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Pardon my last post . . .

2006-07-20T21:57:00.000-07:00

If you have been here in recent days, you have noticed that I have removed last week's sermon. That is the very least I could do.

I may not repost that sermon. At the very least, I need to reconsider some language choices I made. My words were considered by some hurtful and harmful, and that is never my intention or my will.

2006-07-09T14:45:00.000-07:00

5th Sunday after Pentecost

Anniversary Sunday

“For the Sake of Christ”

On days like today, my heart always wants to say more than my mind or my speech can deliver.

Usually, I’m the one around here to hype the anniversary of our beginning. I made such a big deal of it at 3, and then 5, and then 6 and 7. This year, I thought I’d tone things down a little, and then in choir the other night, Dr. Mike spoke up and said, “Eight years – who’d a thunk it!!”

Too many things took me in other directions early in the week, so it was actually late Wednesday afternoon before I took a look at the scriptures for today. Boy, I couldn’t have picked better scriptures if you’d have paid me. This morning, I want to comment on the psalm for a minute, then the epistle, and then end up with the gospel. This may turn out to be three different sermons, but I’ll try to get us out of here before your stomachs start growling.

As a congregation, our testimony sounds like the testimony of David in our psalm for today. Did you hear the words when J.D. read them for us to start the service? “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised in the city of our God.” When I think about what we’ve accomplished as a church over the last eight years, this verse jumps out at me.

They say that churches are known for one or two important ministries they perform in their community. We are known for a couple of things. Most folks that know us know that we do some measure of benevolence work in our community. We have a heart for those who need help. But beyond that, I think the thing we do the best is our worship. You know how to worship. Certainly there is always room for improvement, but you know what worship means – showing worth to God – and you do that as well as any group I’ve ever known. This is our testimony – “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised.” This is what we do. This is who we are. We offer our praise to God.

Did you hear what else the psalmist said? Down there in verse 9 – “We ponder your steadfast love, O God, in the midst of your temple.” As a church, we’ve kept this at the forefront of who we are and what we do. When we gather in this place – week in and week out – and as of today more than 400 times without missing a beat – we remember the love of God. This room is our refuge. We know that whatever else happens to us of a week, that we can find God and find others who know God in this place on a Sunday morning. We can find others who know about the love of God.

Listen, Cornerstone. If you don’t remember another thing I say today or ever, remember this – our message to this community is God’s love. We talk about sin. We don’t cut corners on that one – we talk about our sin. And we talk about living moral lives. We talk about service, we talk about missions, we talk about the importance of church in the world today – we talk about a lot of things, and we believe many things. But God’s love is our message. We look a sinner in the eye and in the heart, and we want to let them know – we want to let ourselves know – that the love of God is the most powerful force we’ve ever known or experienced. That’s our message – the love of God.

And a third thought from the psalm – did you hear the way the psalmist ended this psalm? – “that you may tell the next generation that this is God our God forever and ever. He will be our guide forever.” Our message becomes our proclamation. The God of our fathers and mothers has become our God, and it is our job to make sure that our God becomes the God of our children. I have a word for us, Cornerstone. We must work. We must work diligently to see that the faith we have is multiplied in our children. They say that this next generation is likely to be the first generation in American history to have a lower standard of living than their parents. I don’t know about that, but I do have a word for us. We must work to make sure that the faith standard in our children is not less than it is in our own lives. We want to develop children who have a greater faith than we have. We want our children to know our God in ways that we don’t know God. We want our children’s faith to be extraordinary.

Eight years ago today, we baptized Jon Pontious. This church has been his church for nearly half his life. Have we done well by him? There are others in this room this morning who have been a part of this congregation for much of the last eight years. Have we done well by them? Is their faith stronger for the experience they have had here in our sanctuary – here in our midst – here in the presence of God?

As much as I love the psalm this day, I resonate with the words Paul had for the Corinthians. “I know a man in Christ who eight years ago was caught up to the third heaven.” That would be the way I would tell of our eight years together. But Paul knew a great truth – that kind of thinking can lead to boasting. I’m the chief of sinners on that count. Paul rather spoke of his weaknesses. He spoke of his trials. You and I have experienced trials during the last eight years. We’ve walked through dark hours with one another. We’ve asked for deliverance, and we’ve been introduced to the hardest part of the Christian faith – “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” That phrase represents much of our experience.

Week in and week out, people walk into this room, and they are hurting. They have been knocked down by life’s realities. They are hanging on with all they have, and wondering where the strength will come from to hang on just a little longer. Then they look at us – and they see that we’re doing the same thing. We’re hanging on, and it is our faith which sustains us. You have helped me so much over these eight years with this truth. In my weakness, Christ’s power is made perfect. We know this truth. So, I resonate with Paul. We resonate with Paul – “Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

I captured that little phrase – “for the sake of Christ” – as the title for today. I want to say another word about that. There are so many motivations for coming to this place. We’ve been open more than 400 Sundays, and there are a lot of reasons people come to this place. Do they know why we do what we do? Do they know why we give our money, and give our time, and give our talents to this ministry? It is for the sake of Christ. We do what do for the sake of Christ. Jesus did so much for us – we do what little we can do for His sake. For the sake of Christ.

And finally, the gospel for today. From Mark, we hear some questions - questions we’ve heard a million times from those who listen to our message. They are questions about our Jesus. “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands!”

In a way, we understand their questions. We’ve asked them ourselves. We’ve looked at Jesus as He works in our lives, and we’ve been astonished at His wisdom. How can He know our hearts with such completeness? How can He speak to our hearts with such assurance and authority, both at the same time? And His power? We are even more astonished at His power. His power to comfort. His power to gently discipline. His power to direct our lives. His power to save us – even us – from our sinfulness. We are astonished. We don’t know this kind of power. We certainly don’t possess this kind of power – and yet He wields His divine power with grace and truth and freedom of a measure that we can only dream.

We would almost take offense when others ask these questions about our Jesus. How can they ask such questions? Don’t they know of His love? Don’t they know of His compassion? Don’t they know of His never changing love for us?

Listen, Cornerstone. Several years ago, our friend Daniel Vestal visited with us for a weekend. He said something about our church – He said that we were to be “Jesus kind of people.” I remember his words. They were words of identity. And it is still our identity. We are to be Jesus people. Every day, and in every way, we are to become more and more like Jesus as we seek to serve Him by serving those He sends our way. We are to be Jesus people. I think it’s happening in this place.

I’ll tell you this. I may have shared this illustration before – I don’t remember. I watch way, way too much television. I love to watch the comedians. I’ve noticed over the last 20 years that the comedians have gotten bolder in their disdain for God. They give God a hard time, to say the least. But for the most part, they don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to Jesus. They may “diss” Him – but it’s for His gentleness, His compassion, His love – and in the long run, they know they don’t really have a case.

We need to be Jesus people. Jesus is our best bet. We need to be Jesus people.

Eight years. Where do we go from here? It’s the question we must ask ourselves. The latter part of this passage gives us our marching orders for coming days. Verse 7 and following; “He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, ‘Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”

These are our marching orders. We take this authority that Jesus possesses, and has given to us, and we share His power, His love, His message with everyone we come into contact with. We don’t need a lot of tools. We have everything in our arsenal that we need – we have our faith, we have our Christian heritage, we have our promise, we have our hope – and we have our Jesus. We need to work diligently with those whom Jesus gives to us, and we need to be slow to give up on them – shaking the dust off only as a last resort.

I want to share a personal word with you this morning. (you should have been here)

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Finding the Balance

2006-07-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

4th Sunday after Pentecost

2nd Corinthians 8:7-15

Amy the pup moved into new digs this week. I completed her side of the dog pens, and she entered rather easily. Oh, there was the expected whining that first evening, but we are moving her that way gradually, and I suspect she will find the same kind of bored contentment that Crockett has come to appreciate.

Thursday evening when she moved in, she started immediately climbing up on her dog house. She watched Crockett jump up on his, but she can’t jump that high just yet, and so she found a way to shimmy up there by climbing up between the house and the fencing. Crockett’s house if flat roofed, but hers is a store bought version that friend Gary let me have some time back. It doesn’t have a flat roof – looks more like a miniature barn – so the very peak has a very small place that is flat. I noticed that she spent much of the evening learning how to balance on the top of her house so that she could be up there with Crockett.

Amy is discovering balance. Balance is one of those concepts that all of us learn as we mature. We learn to strike a balance between work and play. We each eventually find our balance between cold and hot, light and dark, gluttony and fasting, observation and participation – so many places in which balance is key to fulfillment in our lives.

Paul spoke of balance. I read it for us just a little while ago, but let me read it again. 2nd Corinthians 8:7-15 – “But just as you abound in everything, in faith and utterance and knowledge and in all earnestness and in the love we inspired in you, see that you abound in this gracious work also. I am not speaking this as a command, but as proving through the earnestness of others the sincerity of your love also. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich. And I give my opinion in this matter, for this is to your advantage, who were the first to begin a year ago not only to do this, but also to desire to do it. But now finish doing it also; that just as there was the readiness to desire it, so there may be also the completion of it by your ability. For if the readiness is present, it is acceptable according to what a man has, not according to what he does not have. For this is not for the ease of others and for your affliction, but by way of equality-- at this present time your abundance being a supply for their want, that their abundance also may become a supply for your want, that there may be equality; as it is written, "He who gathered much did not have too much, and he who gathered little had no lack."

I’ve been thinking a good bit these days about balance. As we enter this holiday week in which we celebrate our nation, you and I find that we live in a country where balance is hard to find. Balance has left us – extremism reigns. We are pushed to one side of the political spectrum or the other, each of us knowing that we would prefer to live somewhere in the middle – somewhere where balance exists. But sadly, the extremists rule the day.

Did you hear the Apostle? “it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need . . .” Our biblical examination becomes a little more specific for today, and it feels like Paul is doing a little “toe-stepping.”

A little background. Our passage has roots in two places. Paul’s quote in verse 15 is from Exodus – specifically Exodus 15:18. Paul omitted something from the original text – I suspect it didn’t agree with his point of the moment. Preachers are like that, don’t you know. He left off the part of the verse that says “every man gathered as much as he should eat.” I’m not sure why he left that part out. Anyway, the story hails to the children of Israel, as they were in the middle of the exodus. God provided manna for them, but it was expected that each person gather for his own household.

The second part of the story is the context from which Paul writes. Paul had an interesting relationship with the church at Corinth. When we take the book of Acts in correlation with the Corinthian letters, we find that Paul made at least 3 visits to the Corinthian church, and he wrote at least 4 letters to them. They evidently responded to some of his letters, and so the communication went back and forth between Paul and this church. It was not an easy correspondence. What you and I know as 1st Corinthians was actually his second letter to them. We don’t have the first letter, but there are some indicators in 1st Corinthians as to its content. Then, between 1st and 2nd Corinthians is a third letter, named by scholars as the “severe” letter – evidently Paul really got after them about something – and then along comes this last letter, which we call 2nd Corinthians. In the first part of chapter 8, Paul is outlining the giving record of some of the other Greek churches who are supporting his ministry. In vv.1-2, he says, “we wish to make known to you the grace of God which has been given in the churches of Macedonia, that in a great ordeal of affliction their abundance of joy and their deep poverty overflowed in the wealth of their liberality.” Then as we continue to read, we realize that Paul is again spanking the Corinthians for having started to take an offering for his ministry, only to let their work go unfinished. Now he is admonishing them to finish what they started, and he attempts to shame them by pointing out the other churches who have limited means but who have given generously as an example to them.

Now, if I were sitting where you are this morning, I’d start to ask myself a question – I’d want to know “How in the world did I end up in church listening to a tithing sermon rather than going to the lake today?” Let me quell your fears – this is not a tithing sermon. I don’t like tithing sermons, any more than you do, and I certainly wouldn’t choose to preach one in the middle of the summer. No, this is one of the things that I love about the lectionary – it forces me toward passages that I otherwise wouldn’t preach.

Rather, I consider this to be an “attitude” sermon. Paul is speaking to an attitude that I am trying to learn how to employ in my life, and that I think our country could use a whole lot more of. This passage speaks to an attitude of abundance.

If you take this passage in conjunction with the gospel stories for today, Paul and Mark speak toward an attitude of abundance. In the gospels, those who are standing around watching are concerned about the power that Jesus has – “does He have enough power to heal this little girl, and what in the world is this old woman doing reaching out to ‘steal’ a little of His power while He is on the way to perform a ‘miracle healing.’” In these stories, there is a selfishness in the attitude of most of the bystanders, and even on the part of some of the principles in the story.

The same holds true for the readers of Paul’s letter. There is an attitude of selfishness. Paul counters their limited perspective with a vision of abundance, reciprocity, and generosity.

I learned this lesson again this week when we took our children on their outing last Tuesday. Our Summer DAZE program reminded our children how very much we have, and some of what we have is the capacity to serve others. So, the children took some laundry detergent over to Our Daily Bread, and then they worked at Joe’s house trimming some of his shrubs, and then they came back to the church to plant some monkey grass over in front of the youth house. I like the balance and the symmetry of that adventure. They served people who are not a part of our congregation, they worked to serve someone who is a member of our congregation, and then they did a little work on the property from which we worship each week. Symmetry. Balance. It was a good day.

I read something this week. It’s a quote by one of my favorite authors, Marcus Borg. He is speaking of openness to the Spirit of God, and a general attitude of openness in our hearts. He says, “How do hearts become open? The biblical answer: the Spirit of God does it. And the Spirit of God operates through thin places. I owe the metaphor of ‘thin places’ to Celtic Christianity, a form of Christianity that flourished in Ireland and parts of Scotland, Wales, and northern England beginning in the fifth century . . . This way of thinking thus affirms that there are minimally two layers or dimensions of reality, the visible world of our ordinary experience and God, the sacred, Spirit . . .’ Thin places’ are places where these two levels of reality meet or intersect. They are places where the boundary between the two levels becomes very soft, porous, permeable. Thin places are places where the veil momentarily lifts, and we behold God, experience the one in whom we live, all around us and within us.” 1

I’ve been thinking about a prayer – a prayer for our country. I would pray that God would work to instill in people all across this country an openness – an openness to the balance of life that makes life so much more fulfilling. I would pray that people all across this great land would develop a spirit of abundance – a realization that the blessings we have, which, by the way, are not unique to our country, are blessings of God that have root in God’s great generosity to man, and that we are to reciprocate with an attitude of abundance and generosity – toward God as well as toward our fellow man.

1 Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity, Harper, San Franscisco, 2003, pp. 154-6

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Have You Still No Faith?

2006-06-25T15:44:00.000-07:00

3rd Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 4:35-41

You may remember from last week’s sermon that I spoke a little about context. That was actually a not so veiled attempt at doing a little pastoral teaching about the way in which we ought to approach the scriptures when we study. If you would allow me this morning, I want to approach this sermon in two parts: in the first part, I want to again illustrate a point about how we ought to study the scriptures; and in the second part, I want to take off on a particular tangent from the little phrase from our lesson this morning that I think speaks to our lives. Okay?? Here we go!!

Eight years ago today was my last Sunday across town at First Baptist Church. It happened that it became my last Sunday in two actions – First Baptist decided that they did not want me to be their future pastor, and Cornerstone decided that they did want me as their pastor. I do not regret at any level the events which led to the beginnings of this congregation. However, the events which led to the decision by First Baptist occasionally give me cause for contemplation and some measure of sadness. In analyzing why that church did not vote to bring me on as pastor (after what can only be characterized as an extremely successful interim pastorate of some nine months), I have long ago come to the conclusion that there were two reasons – I was seen as the man who wanted to relocate the church, and I was considered by some to be a liberal. The latter was believed by some in that congregation at least in part because I refused to use the word “inerrant” to describe my theological position regarding the truth and efficacy of the scriptures. I still will not – I think the word “inerrant” is a weak word – if you enter into a discussion regarding the word as applied to scripture, you inevitably spend no less than thirty minutes defining the term, and in my book, that makes it a weak word, and thus rather ineffective as a descriptor. I much prefer the term “authoritative” – a word that has immediate implication for our lives.

I want to go a step further with this. Inerrant is a weak term at the root of its definition because the very definition always says that “the scriptures are inerrant “in the original manuscripts.” That may very well be true. However, the problem is that we don’t possess any of the original manuscripts. The copy of the scriptures that you hold in your hand this morning is the result of an ongoing process. The closest we can come to the original manuscripts is somewhere between four and six rather close copies of those earliest manuscripts, and the problem lies in that they don’t always agree with each other.

This morning’s Gospel passage points out the truth of that last statement. I actually had the title for my sermon posted on the marquee early Monday morning. I looked at the scriptures that morning, and rather immediately saw something in that phrase “have you still no faith” which jumped out at me in a big way. So I posted the title, and started my week of work and study. I had a direction.

On Friday when it came time to write, I did two things. I compared Mark’s statement to that of Matthew and Luke – they all tell the same story, more or less. But in the version of the scripture in which I looked this up, it didn’t read the same as the version I looked at earlier in the week. So I looked the same passage up in each copy of the scriptures which I own. I found that there are three variants of the passage – I suppose that these three variants have history in three variant translations down the years.

Let me be more specific. When I first looked at the scripture this week, I looked at it from the New Revised Standard version, which reads in the last part of verse 40, “Have you still no faith?” It was that word “still” that had jumped out at me – I thought it a little unfair of Mark to use it, so early in the story. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Then when I looked it up later in the week, the first translation I ran into said simply, “How is it that you have no faith?” It reads differently, doesn’t it?

So, let me read it to you out of eight different translations, and then out of the Greek, as I translate it. I group these for you, according to the three variant thoughts.

The RSV (Revised Standard Version) translates this verse the most simply – “Have you no faith?” Interestingly enough, in the RSV, Matthew and Luke say pretty much the same thing, with pretty much the same inflection of thought. This is really the only translation that translates this phrase rather “bare bones.”

The second variation of thought always throws in that little word “still, or something akin to it.” I found it in four translations.

NEB – “Have you no faith even now?”
NIV – “Do you still have no faith?”
NRSV – “Have you still no faith?”
NLT – “Do you still not have faith in me?”

By the way, I have something of a different problem with this last “translation,” because it suggests an object of their faith – that their faith should be in Jesus. While we believe that to be true, it is not necessarily the intent of this phrase. In this translation, there is a sense of impatience on the part of Jesus when He asks this question of the disciples. “Haven’t you found your faith yet?” The translation suggests something in its interpretation, doesn’t it? It suggests that Jesus experiences an impatience with us when we do not exhibit faith in a timely manner.

Then there is a third group of translations. I personally think they agree more with the Greek. I found this variant in three different translations.

KJV – “How is it that ye have no faith?”
NASV – exactly the same – “How is it that ye have not faith?” Again, by the way – it is unusual that the New American Standard and the King James agree so closely.
Peterson – “Don’t you have any faith at all?”
And then the fourth of the last group would be the Dunn translation of the Greek – “How not that you have faith?”

In this last group of translations, I hear more surprise than anything in the voice of Jesus. Do you hear the same thing? It’s almost as though He’s saying, “I find it hard to believe that you have trouble with faith.” I have no answers for my reaction to that “translation,” but if that is the case, His surprise surprises me!!

Here’s the point I want to make of all of that – we read the scriptures, you and I, for a lot of different reasons. Mostly, we read them to change our lives. Part of that change comes from trying to align our lives with God’s desires and wishes for us, and we discover some of that by studying the way Jesus says something. I would suggest to us that this passage suggests that Jesus expects faith from us – and perhaps that He is indeed surprised when we fail to exhibit faith. But at the same time, I see God as a patient God – One Who would not condemn us for being human as we learn to practice a life of faith.

I would also suggest to us that when we study, and find some truth around which we think we should shape our lives, that we must take the time to sincerely check out the point we are about to apply to our lives, to make sure that what we think it says is really what it says.

Which leads me to the application of this verse to our lives this week. I need to tell you a little story – first person, personal. A little over a week ago, they called us from OKC to tell us that Travis was “unresponsive, and throwing up.” We immediately left to meet them at Deaconness hospital. On my way home to pick up Lynn, I made several phone calls to ask people to pray for Travis. One of those phone calls was to my sister Tracy. I was nearing frantic, and she attempted to calm me. She used her calm “counselor” voice, and asked a couple of perfunctory questions, and then she said, “It’ll be alright. He’s in God’s hands.”

My response to her was less than stellar. I was in no mood for that kind of talk – once again our lives were in upheaval because of Travis. Once again this child with lifelong physical and mental handicaps was the focus of our worry and grief, and once again, I felt the hand of God very far away. My exact words to her – “Yes, and that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it!!”

I didn’t have time to process my response to her that week. Too much worry – too much anger. But she processed it for me. Last week in her sermon, she used my words as a point of teaching for her congregation, and I am grateful for her analysis. She said, “You see, we’ve had to place Travis in God’s hands since the moment he was born. Difficult delivery, significant post-birth problems, numerous surgeries, neurological damage, a child and now a man with very special needs – from the moment he arrived and even before, Travis has been out of our hands. This is the awful truth they do not tell parents – if they did, we’d never sign-up for the game. No, we discover that truth later; earlier for some than others, there comes a moment when we are slapped in the face with the realization that it is not in our hands. The oft-preached message about being the one solely responsible for the care of your child – it’s all hogwash. It’s not in your hands – frankly, it never was to begin with.”

Still Tracy speaking - “And, as Richard says, “That’s always been the problem.” For when something goes wrong with your child, you are full to the brim with worry for the child. But there, crowded amidst your concern for your offspring, is your own incredible and overwhelming sense of failure. “I’m her mother – I should have been able to protect her!” “I’m his father – I should be able to fix this!” And you didn’t protect – because you couldn’t. And you can’t fix – because, well, you just can’t. It’s not yours to fix – it never was. It’s another one of those things over which we have absolutely no control – and that’s always been the problem.

You see, you and I, we still believe we’re in control. It doesn’t matter how many times we’re reminded otherwise – we forget. And moments like this come along and it’s like learning new information all over again. When will we quit being surprised? When will it stop hitting us like a ton of bricks?”[1]

Friends, I wish I knew exactly what Jesus meant when He said, “Have you no faith?” I wish I could see the look in His eyes, focused on mine. I wish I could know how He meant those words – for me. In the context of the lives of those twelve disciples, they were experienced fishermen who knew the Sea of Galilee like the back of their hands. This wasn’t the first storm they had been in. They were used to this. And they were good at their craft – they knew how to control a boat in waters that would sink the common man. Then they cried out to Jesus, almost as if this was something else they could do, or perhaps they thought there was something He could do. And I wonder if His response to them suggested that they stop trying so hard at what they knew to do, and start to learn something that they didn’t know how to do.

The part of last week’s experience in my life that I find somewhat embarrassing is that at age 49, raised in the church, introduced to the life of faith repeatedly throughout my years, schooled in the seminary, and serving God’s people as a leader all these years – all of that describing context in my life – that I still exhibit so very little faith when it comes to too many of life’s experiences. Like Paul, who said, “in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger” – like Paul, I have my own laundry list of troubles which have plagued me.

And Jesus gently calms the rough and churning seas of my life, and lovingly looks at me and says, “Have you thought about trying the life of faith, my brother?”

He says that to each of us. I know your lives. I walk with you, and you share your real and private griefs with me. Trouble comes your way in waves, and you do what you know to do when it comes.

Can you hear Jesus as He says, “Have you thought about trying the life of faith again, my friend?”

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Tracy Dunn-Noland, The Secret Seed of Trust, http://fobsermons.blogspot.com/.

Mystery Seeds

2006-06-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

2nd Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 4:26-34

The Kingdom of God is to us a mystery. Not a mystery in the sense that you and I have come to know mysteries. We watch a mystery unfold on the television, and we come to know the explanation for the mystery in 60 minutes, time taken away for commercials (which are a mystery in themselves, aren’t they). No, the Kingdom of God is a mystery that really can’t be comprehended fully, and that becomes something of a problem.

You and I want to have things explained to us? We need to have things explained to us. And then Jesus comes along, and we have questions about this Kingdom of God that He keeps talking about, and His explanation is in the form of parables. In fact, Mark says that He didn’t teach anything that wasn’t in the form of a parable.

You and I don’t encounter parables enough to really know what to do with them. In seminary, I took a course in the book of Luke under Dr. Lacoste Munn. I actually took two courses under Dr. Munn – one was New Testament survey (which we called “Fun with Munn” – I think it’s because he was known to be the easiest of the professors for that particular class), and the second was this little survey of the book of Luke. I’ll tell you a rather humorous anecdote about Dr. Munn and his course. It seems that several of us had his final and two other finals on the same day. So, we collaborated and decided to approach Dr. Munn with our dilemma. We said, “Dr. Munn, several of us have your final and two other finals on the same day, and we were wondering if we could schedule your final for another day, just to help us out?” He replied to us, “Well, let me tell you my philosophy on that sort of thing – that’s just kinda the way life is – some days you have three finals, and other days you don’t have any.” I can tell you - the day of finals in that class wasn’t “fun with Munn.”

Anyway, back to my original story. Dr. Munn had one “important point” that he wanted to make with us about parables. His one important point was that parables had one central point – we might see more than one, but the parable teller usually only had one point that he was trying to get across.

As illustration, let’s take the second of our parables first this morning – the parable of the mustard seed. It really just has the one point – that the Kingdom of God, small in its inception, will experience incredible growth. That’s it – that’s the entire point that Jesus was trying to make with the parable. But we take off from there into uncharted territory, developing themes and theologies and alternate theologies, until we could write a book just about the alternate ways one could interpret this parable.

I’ve done it myself. When I was younger, just out of seminary and starting to get my feet wet in church work, I heard someone say that 40 percent of what Jesus taught, He taught in the form of parables, and that 40 percent of what He did He did in the form of miracles – and that if we could get our mental arms around the parables and the miracles, then we’d have a grasp of 80 percent of what Jesus was about. I generally like playing the percentages, and so this philosophy appealed to me. I started studying parables – with a passion. I must have bought a dozen books in those first five or six years on parables alone. All of them said the same thing about this particular parable – whether you take it from Mark or from Matthew or Luke – that the Kingdom would experience magnificent growth, and that it would be so large that it would encompass even the birds of the air, which they went on to describe as the “gentile” nations – you and me. Notice how they already went beyond the main point to a “secondary” point.

Then a few years later, I stumbled across my friend, author Robert Capon, and he had three books on parables. I immediately bought all three – Parables of Grace, Parables of the Kingdom, and Parables of Judgment. I devoured them – he did things in explaining the parables that were so different – in some cases so diametrically opposed to what others had done with them, that I was enamored. But he made the same glaring faux pas as others did – he insisted on taking the simple explanation and expounding beyond it. He advocated that the growth of the mustard plant was so beyond the imagination that Jesus must have intended to indicate that it represented abnormal “structural” growth of the church, and then he made note of the fact that in Matthew’s gospel, this parable is in proximity to other parables in which birds represent evil workers – so, the conclusion he reached was that Jesus was telling us that the church would grow abnormally large, to the point that even Satan’s workers could find a place of safe harbor within its branches. I was stunned at his analysis, but I was working with deacons at that point in time, and so some of what he had to say made sense to me.

If we take Mark’s first parable for today’s lesson, we might very well do the same thing. The rather obvious point of this parable is that the Kingdom of God will grow - out of its nature – just like seeds sprout, grow, and eventually produce fruit. That’s the point. But we could very easily do so much more with this parable. We could take note of the fact that the sower sowed the seed, and we could take off on a series of summer sermons on evangelism in our world today. We could talk about the need for Christians to take witnessing classes and to develop a plan for working out a plan of concentric circles of influence among friends and neighbors and co-workers, so as to present a witness to persons in each of those categories. We could develop a theology about planting and cultivating and harvesting, and we could seek to salve our consciences by defining ourselves as the kind of church that doesn’t do much harvesting, but is really great at cultivating. All of those ideas are noble, and have value in and of themselves – but they aren’t the point of the parable. This parable intends to remind us that the Kingdom of God will grow – out of its nature – and not so much out of the work that we put into it.

There – we did it again. I added something to the point – that line about “not so much out of the work that we put into it.” That makes it sound like you and I aren’t important to the growth of the kingdom. If we believed that, we could develop a theology that suggests that we need not do much in the way of evangelism because things have already been predetermined as to what will happen in the end. Oh, wait – that’s already been done. I think they call it Calvinism. The point of the parable is that the kingdom will grow – it’s in its nature to grow.

There’s a larger point about the kingdom of God this day for us to comprehend. Jesus said - and three different guys wrote it down – the Kingdom of God is like – well, a mystery. Except it’s not the kind of mystery that you’re necessarily going to see played out in this lifetime. I know that’s hard to take – we like explanations to our mysteries. We like to see how it all comes out in the end.

I want to say a word about context. I’ve decided that in some ways, it’s harder to be a Christian in this country, in this time, than any previous place and time. Jesus spoke this parable the first time to a group of people, and in the context of their lives, His words had merit and specific meaning. We can’t put our mental fingers on the exact nature of the context in which they lived, but we have a couple of clues. This was spoken to 1st century Jews who were looking for a Messiah. They were looking for someone who had been promised for generations, and this Jesus looked like He just might be the One they’d been waiting for all those years. Then, roughly 30 years later, Mark penned these words for some followers of Jesus who were living in a slightly different context. These followers had now committed their lives to following Jesus, and they were experiencing rather intense persecution as a result.

You and I live in a different context as we read these words today. We live in perhaps the most affluent society to ever exist. By virtually any standard you and I might apply, we have more wealth than 80 percent of the rest of the world. I started thinking about all the things I own – and at this particular point in my life, much of the stuff I own is broken. It’s a good thing I took a year off from Habitat – I seem to be “habitating” at the Dunn house this summer. Everything I am a steward over is in need of repair and maintenance. The pool is broken, I’m cutting the yard twice a week, the boat broke the other day, and don’t even get me started on the state of my garden. And then the house needs painting, the back yard fence needs mending, and the dog pens need repair. The context in which I personally encounter Jesus’ stories about the Kingdom of God is sobering affluence, to say the least – much more so than most of the people in our world enjoy, and certainly more than in the world in which these words were first spoken.

I’ve been thinking about the context in which I encounter these parables this week. I am preoccupied with stuff. Now, don’t fuss at me – you are preoccupied with stuff, too. And add to all the stuff the other various distractions – ball games and dance lessons and second jobs and extended family responsibilities – and you and I come to realize that the context in which we encounter these stories about the kingdom produces for us a warning. We mustn’t get so preoccupied with life that we miss out on the mystery of the kingdom of God. It is a mystery, and we simply must take time to observe if we are going to participate in the mystery of this Kingdom of God.

I can offer to us this morning something of a synopsis of the point of these parables, and it comes in the form of a little parable itself. It is the parable of “Amy the puppy.” You know that I picked up a new pointer puppy just a couple of weeks ago. I can say two things about her. She is growing – it is in her nature to do so. And secondly, she started out as something quite small – she actually was the runt of the litter – but she will become something significantly larger, in so many ways, than she was when she was born.

Whether we can see it or not, the Kingdom of God is alive and well in this world. It will take root, grow and produce everywhere it is sown – it must – it is in its nature to do so. And the smallest of things related to the kingdom will grow into something quite magnificent.

It occurs to me - you and I ought to keep our eye on this Kingdom – it is growing, and we want to be a part of what God.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Between Knowing and Believing

2006-06-11T19:39:00.000-07:00

Trinity Sunday

John 3:1-17

My pastor from College, Ron Durham, tells the story of a little girl who went with her family on vacation to see the Grand Canyon. After a long drive through rather dull scenery, suddenly they pulled into a parking area, piled out of the car, and stood before the breathtaking grandeur of the South Rim. "Wow!" said the little girl. "How did they do that?"[i]

After I preached last week, I pulled out my “Pentecost” sermons from the past 7 years, just to compare them. I wasn’t very impressed – frankly, I wouldn’t give any one of them any better than a B-. Pentecost is a difficult subject, especially when we’re trying to define the work and role of the Holy Spirit. Today is Trinity Sunday, and we multiply last week’s problem by 3. But strangely enough, I pulled out my sermons from this Sunday over the last 7 years, and they’re a little better. I discovered something in looking at them – in those sermons, I discovered that I lived somewhere between knowing and believing.

We live there, don’t we – somewhere between knowing and believing. We’d like to think that we understand God, in all of God’s expressions. But we know that to suggest such a thing is to be just a little less than completely intellectually honest. We don’t know much about God, when it comes down to it. And we know even less about this concept of the Trinity. In fact, the word “trinity” isn’t even used in the scriptures. And yet, we see three expressions of God - God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit – and so we speak of this “Trinitarian” concept – almost as though we understand it.

I’ll have to admit to you – from time to time it frustrates me. People look to their pastors to explain God, and the actions of God. Most of the time we try, but if we were perfectly honest with you, we’d say “I have no idea what God is up to on this one.” I think of one experience about 6 years ago when I was called to the hospital to minister to a young couple. The mother had left the father in charge of watching the children. He did what they’d done a hundred times before – he left the child to sleep for a while on the bed. But this time, in his sleep the child scooted to the end of the bed, slid between the mattress and the head rail, and suffocated. I held my arms around this couple as the doctor disconnected the respirator on their little baby, and watched with them as she breathed her last breath. They wanted answers. I had no idea. They wanted God to explain. So did I. It gets pretty frustrating sometimes.

When you look at our scriptures for today, we discover that Isaiah and Nicodemus had much of the same situation. Isaiah had a dream. In his dream, Isaiah encountered God, and responded like any of us with any sense would respond – “Woe is me! Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” If you and I truly had the vision that Isaiah experienced, we’d say the same thing – “Woe is me!!!”

Nicodemus had an encounter with God – in the flesh. He came to Jesus by night – I suspect out of fear. Fear that he would be found out to be irrelevant as a minister, and fear that his fellow ministers would shun him for having anything at all to do with Jesus. He was duly humble in his approach to Jesus, and his opening statement revealed a need to know. “I know that you are God. Now explain yourself to me!! Isn’t that what we all want to know? “Jesus, we don’t understand. Explain yourself. Explain God to us. We want to know. We have to know.” We live somewhere between knowing and believing, and it’s not always a comfortable land in which we live.

Larry Bethune had a great line in his Trinity Sunday sermon two years ago. He said, “To use Augustine’s famous dictum: "Faith seeks understanding." Faith comes first, then reason seeks to make sense of God. But reason is limited, because in truth none of the classical arguments for God from reason are conclusive. Even if they were, none of them comes close to defining the personal Christian God who is revealed to us in the Bible. The point is, what we know of God is only what God has told us and shown us, through the scripture and in our lives.”[ii]

He hit the nail on the head with that last little bit there – what we know of God, God told us. I spoke with someone not long ago who got to the root of the problem for most people who are searching for God. We start with the scriptures. We make the assumption that the scriptures are true, and that we can trust them. But to be intellectually honest with ourselves, we have to ask that question, “How do I know I can trust the scriptures? How can I know they are true?” It is the right question to ask.

And the answer is something less than satisfactory. The answer takes us back to our premise for today – that we live someplace between knowledge and belief. Somewhere between knowing and believing.

Larry Bethune had a second paragraph that I liked. He was talking about how some people view themselves as having all knowledge about God, and he said, “That’s my other discomfort with the experts on God. They keep telling us what God thinks and who God is, but they do not listen to our own experiences of the living God. We do well to teach what we know from scripture and seek to understand the God who meets us there. But God is not just an historical figure of the past. God is, and God is now. God is, and God is here. God is, and God is with us. This God-seeking community and the lives we live out there in the world are the laboratory of our encounter with God. We need to listen to our lives, to share our stories, to seek together an encounter with the living God. We need not just to talk about God, but to seek God, each of us on our own and all of us together, that we might also experience the awe of the psalmist who saw traces of the majestic glory of God in the starry sky.”[iii]

I quoted Bethune again because he said exactly what I’d been thinking all week. We trust the scriptures – even the part we don’t yet understand. We also trust our experiences. The only person I can really speak for is myself, but I can tell you that I trust my experiences. I trust the experience I had with Jesus when I was a nine year old boy. I trust the times that God has held me in God’s presence, and I trust the times that the Spirit of God has spoken to me words of comfort, discipline, and direction. I trust those experiences. There are those who would tell us that we can’t trust anything but the scriptures, but I have to say that I live somewhere between knowing and believing, and in that strange place, experience has something to do with my faith.

I have to find the balance. We must discover and then live in the balance. Too much experience, and we start to live in the land of syncretistic theology – a land where “whatever you believe” is the key to salvation. We know that we can’t live there. We know that there are common points of belief, and that God is not divided in God’s expressions of Godself. On the other hand, our different experiences produce different points of view. We’re a little like the three blindfolded guys who were given the task of describing an elephant. One was put at the head, another in the middle, and a third at the tail. One saw the elephant only from the perspective of the trunk. The second man saw the elephant only from the mass of wrinkled skin in the middle. And the third man thought the elephant was a tiny animal, judging from the tail. Our perspectives are singular in orientation, and we do well as believers in a common God to listen to one another, even as we listen to the voice of scripture.

“So, pastor?? After we’ve listened, what do we say of God? How do we explain God to those who ask?” It’s a fair question. I’m coming up with a more consistent answer with each week that I’m in the pulpit. We tell what we know and what we believe. We tell honestly what is ours – what we have that comes from that strange and wonderful land between knowing and believing. In my own life, I try to start with the scriptures, and then confirm what truth I think I know from the experiences I have had. To be sure – there are scriptural statements for which I have no personal experience. Conversely, there are personal experiences for which I have yet to discover scriptural support.

Ultimately, I must sometimes share the paradox that I am coming to understand. Belief and knowledge are sometimes in opposition to one another. There are things that I can think that I know. There are things in which I believe – in which I trust. Strangely, in my life, the two are not always the same.

I told the Wednesday night group that I’m pretty dogmatic about the way I attempt to use one particular phrase in my life. I know some things. I believe some things. But I “believe in” only one thing, and that is my Friend and Savior, Jesus Christ. Years ago, when we were trying to get Chelsea into a certain school in town, the people who were interviewing me asked if I believed in dinosaurs. I said, “NO, I believe in Jesus, but we’ve got bones.” When it comes to who I ultimately trust, I have to say that Jesus is the one I trust for my salvation. Not my good deeds – there’s not enough of them. Not my ability to live up to the morals of scripture – I fall short way too much. Not my pedigree, or my educational attainments, or my church associations – those are things that just don’t count. I’m counting on Jesus. Period.

Much of the time, I feel like Isaiah and Nicodemus. I am caught between knowing and believing. I’d like to know more, and along the way, I seem to discover some things. Sometimes, I trust those things. But I trust “in” Jesus. I heard about Him in the scriptures. Others told me His story as well. And then I met Him. August 14, 1966. Nine years old. Over the years, He’s proven to be a friend to me. I trust Him. I trust “in” Him.

And that’s all the explaining about God I can really do.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[i] http://www.ubcaustin.org/sermons/20040606.htm
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Ibid.

When the Advocate Comes . . .

2006-06-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

Pentecost

John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

To say that we don’t understand the work and role of the Holy Spirit in our lives would be a significant understatement. Baptists may be just a little less informed than some other denominations – I’m not sure why. As I watched and learned from ecclesiastical leaders through my youth and young adult years, I observed that my Baptist leaders were slightly less afraid of Pentecostals and other Charismatics than they were of Catholics. Some 20 years later, I am even more confounded by those fears that directed so very much of their teaching and leadership.

I’ll tell you why I’m confounded – 8 years ago when we began as a congregation, there was no small controversy surrounding our beginnings. There’s no less indicting way to say it – we were a split from another church. Splits are always suspicious, and we were no exception to that rule. To this day, it was the rare Baptist who stopped by to see how I was doing in our new venture. But that first week, and then at least once a month for the next two years, the pastor of one of the local Assembly of God churches would stop in just to check on me, and to have prayer. We became friends, and I came to trust his counsel and wisdom. Then, as our church began to get our legs under us, we determined that we wanted to have more of a social/benevolent/personal ministry in our community than in our previous church experiences. We began to look for examples and opportunities, and we discovered that the Episcopalians and Catholics in our community were doing more to help people with physical kinds of needs than many other groups, and so, through our relationships founded through Habitat for Humanity and Our Daily Bread, we became ministerial companions with the parishioners of St. Matthews and St. Francis. Twenty years ago, to put in the vernacular, “Who’d a thunk it???”

Today is Pentecost – the birthday of the church. This is the day that the church of Jesus Christ came out of hiding from the shadows and the upper rooms and began to accomplish her world-wide mission. This is the day that more than 3000 were saved in one place, igniting the beginning of Christianity. This is the day that the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit, reigned down on the people of God and indwelt their lives, and subsequently, ours. This is that day.

The Holy Spirit has many names – we refer almost interchangeably to the Holy Spirit and to the Spirit of God. The Spirit is also known as our Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Teacher, and our Friend. In our gospel passage for today, John quotes Jesus, who refers to the Spirit as “the Advocate.” I want us to focus our attention this morning on that name, and on this role that the Spirit plays in our lives. And then I want us to look at our response to the Spirit of God.

Advocate. It is a legal term in origin. We refer to defense attorneys as Advocates. If we take that analogy to the Nth degree, we see the work of the Spirit in our lives as legal defense support – one who advocates on our behalf. But as I said before, the Holy Spirit is known by many names. Other translations of the word “paraclete” – the word which is translated in this case – include Helper, Friend, and Comforter. We really do an injustice to the work and personality of the Spirit when we attempt to use any one word to describe Him.

To get at the sense of the name, we have to look at concepts. The word “advocate” helps – we understand that concept of stepping up on someone’s behalf. But another way of looking at the work of the Spirit indicates that the Helper – the Comforter – “walks alongside” us as we learn and serve.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to think we need a more contemporary term to help us. Do you remember the Academy Award winning movie from 2004 – “Million Dollar Baby” was the story of Maggie Fitzgerald (played by Hilary Swank), who was a poor, thirty-one year old waitress coming out of a tremendously dysfunctional family. She decides to make her mark in the boxing ring. She convinces the experienced hardened boxing trainer Frankie Dunn (played by Clint Eastwood) to coach her and be her manager, with the support of his old partner Eddie “Scrap-Iron” Dupris (played by Morgan Freeman). Frankie has a problem in his estranged relationship with his daughter, and although he initially resists taking Maggie on as a project, he ultimately more or less adopts Maggie while he helps her along with her career[1]. When I think of the role of the Spirit of God in our lives, this idea of a boxing coach/trainer/manager comes to mind as a willing example.

You and I have seen coaches our entire lives. They serve multiple functions within that larger role. They are something of the teacher – the coach teaches the players. There is a line in “Million-Dollar Baby” where Morgan Freeman’s character is narrating, and he says, “To make a fighter you gotta strip them down to bare wood: you can't just tell 'em to forget everything they know; you gotta make 'em forget even to their bones... make 'em so tired they only listen to you, only hear your voice, only do what you say and nothing else... show 'em how to keep their balance and take it away from the other guy... how to generate momentum off their right toe and how to flex your knees when you fire a jab... how to fight backin' up so that the other guy doesn't want to come after you. Then you gotta show 'em all over again. Over and over and over... till they think they're born that way.”[2] That’s what a coach does in the teaching role – they teach, but they teach things the right way – or at least we hope.

I picked up a new pup yesterday. Amy is a lemon pointer (I may bring her to volleyball tonight), and over the coming months and years, I will be something of a coach to her. They tell me that most dog trainers teach their dogs as many bad habits as good habits. Most of these pointers do what they do instinctively, and we trainers/owners simply try to teach them a few things about how to find and retrieve the game. Most of my dogs I’ve taught a few bad habits along the way as well – not on purpose, mind you, but bad habits nonetheless.

The Advocate – our Coach – takes on something of the role of encourager – head cheerleader. The better coaches in our lives encourage us to do our best, to learn from our mistakes, and to give greater effort than we can summon from ourselves.

And then Coaches are something truly like an Advocate. I was watching the replay of one of the Astros games the other night, and their manager, Phil Garner, came out of the dugout to dispute a call (when they played it back on instant replay, it turns out that Garner had good cause to dispute the call). We’ve seen it a hundred times. The manager goes out and takes off his cap and scratches his head while he is shaking it. Then he puts his cap back on, and looks the umpire straight in the eye, and then starts pointing at the base where the disputed call took place. Then they get into a little heated argument, the manager kicks dirt on the umpire, and then the ump throws him out of the game. It happened to Phil Garner the other night. The Holy Spirit does something like that on our behalf – not getting thrown out of the game, but standing up for his “player.” He advocates on our behalf – states our case – carries the torch for us.

The more I think about it, it makes me wonder why we shy away from knowing more about the Holy Spirit.

I do know that, not only do we not understand the role of the Holy Spirit very well – what we do know, much of it we have wrong. I’ll give you one prime example. In this country, and rather pointedly in this part of the country, we take that American spirit of individuality, and when we translate it toward our spiritual lives, we actually tend to believe that as we age, we ought to “have to rely” on the Holy Spirit less. We feel that “Christian maturity” is an expression that insists on a greater independence from the Spirit of God as we gracefully age. To continue with the sports analogy, we move from being “player” into the role of “player/coach.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. In the world of sports, the role of “player/coach” is quite rare – mainly because it’s so hard to pull it off. Nearly every example of someone becoming a “player/coach” has been short lived – either the player retires, or they move full time into coaching.

In our relationship with this indwelling Spirit of God, we never “graduate” into the role of coach. We never sever the relationship. True Christian maturity, rather than moving toward independence, moves toward an ever increasing practice of greater dependence. We don’t become less dependent on the Holy Spirit – we become more dependent. We learn better how to listen. We learn better how to obey. We learn to incline ourselves toward the Spirit. We learn to trust with greater confidence. We learn to rely – every increasingly, we learn to rely more and more on the influence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

I want to comment on one other portion of the Romans passage from today. Paul said, “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Paul makes that point that one of our greatest weaknesses comes at the point of prayer. I resonate with that statement. I do not know how to pray as I would like, and I suspect that may be the reason that my life lacks the breadth and depth of prayer that I should desire. When we think of our congregation, I think all of us would agree that prayer is a weakness in our collective experience. We pray, but sometimes we pray almost as though we feel that we don’t know what we’re doing. I have a word for us in this – if this is truly the case in our corporate experience, we must not lessen or abandon our efforts at prayer - rather we must intensify them, while we trust the Spirit of Truth to enunciate our thoughts in a manner that proves wholly effective.

Jesus did not leave us alone. When He ascended to His Father, and our Father, He did not leave us as players on a team without a coach. He sent the Holy Spirit. This Spirit of God came into our lives at Pentecost, and you and I know Him. We know Him, and as we mature, we do well to listen ever more intently to the promptings of the Spirit in our lives.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0405159/plotsummary
[2] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0405159/quotes

Why Are You Standing There??

2006-05-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

Ascension Sunday

Acts 1:1-11

Last week we ended our discussion with Jesus’ statement from John’s gospel. I won’t quote all of it, but toward the end of the passage, Jesus said: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

I also want to remind us that a part of our discussion centered on the idea that we may have been asking the wrong question when we question the humanity of Jesus. Rather than being wrapped up in discussion about the humanity of Christ, John suggested that we ought to be concerned with the question of our obedience to the commands of God and the manner in which we live out our lives of faith.

In contemporary Christianity, just the same as in the days of Jesus and the subsequent days of the early church, we tend to ask the wrong questions. I don’t mean that in the sense that God is repelled or bothered or offended by our questions. God loves for us to ask questions. A faith which isn’t shaken up from time to time isn’t much of a faith. Faith should be a vibrant, challenging, occasionally rocky experience of the followers of Jesus. All of us experience challenges to our faith from time to time, and that’s more than okay – it’s to be expected. It’s okay to ask questions. But we tend to ask the wrong questions – in the sense that we often miss the point that God is trying to make in our lives. It’s like the old boy that asked whether he should tithe on the gross or the net of his income – he’s missed the point. God calls us to return something of what God has first given to us – and if you don’t think that God has given you all that you hold possession over at this point in time, we need to move on to the discussion about personal arrogance. By the way, the answer to the “gross or net” question is this – it depends on whether you want a “gross” blessing or a “net” blessing.

In our account from the Acts this morning, we find that the disciples had again asked the wrong question. Having seen the power of Jesus in His resurrection, and having walked with Him for 40 days following His resurrection, they asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”

Let me translate for you. “Jesus, is this when you’re going to overthrow these Roman invaders? Is this when you are going to give us what you’ve promised – places at your right and left hand, so that we can help you rule the universe? You know, Jesus – it’s a big universe, and you’re going to need a lot of help to rule things. Is this when we are going to get what’s coming to us, and we get to help you rule the universe – or at least our little corner of it?

Twenty centuries later, I chuckle. I chuckle to listen to the absurdity of their question. You may think that I’m being a little calloused or derogatory with what I just said – but believe me – I think that I more than fairly state the way the disciples and Israel of that day saw themselves – as the chosen of God. That absurdity continues to this day. Jesus begins the answer to their question, and years later, Paul continues to develop the theological picture that Israel was always intended to serve as a seed bed for the evangelization of the world – that the purpose of Israel – the chosenness of Israel – was not because they were some kind of special kind of folks. No, they were chosen and called to be the seed bed from which the entire world would be evangelized. They were chosen for purpose, not privilege. They were the first to be chosen.

Jesus answers their question rather straightforwardly. “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.” “Buzzzzz!! Thanks for playing!! Wrong question – again!! This thing that I’m about to do – it isn’t about you, our your rewards or what you get out of the deal. It’s about me. And it’s about all the people that I want to touch with my message of redemption.”

We’re good at asking the wrong questions. Last week we centered our initial questions around the humanity of Christ. Wouldn’t that make things easier for us if Jesus were truly human. Bzzzzzz! Wrong question!! The question of the day wasn’t about the humanity of Christ, but about our obedience to the commands of Christ. We were asking the wrong question. Here, the disciples are asking about God’s plan to restore the kingdom to Israel – whatever that meant in their thinking. We can only imagine. But it was the wrong question. Besides, only the Father knows – Jesus says in another passage that even He didn’t know – and the Father isn’t talking about that right now. It’s up to God – it’s not our business.

“But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Now, that’s the question. What do we do next? How can we help you out, Jesus, with whatever it is that you’re going to do next? What small, seemingly insignificant role can we play in your grand plan?

Allow me to tell the story of how this sermon evolved as an illustration of how easily we can ask the wrong question. When I first read this passage this week, I marveled again at this verse 8 – “You shall be my witnesses.” I’ll bet I’ve heard a hundred sermons on this passage over the years. Every one of them said the same thing – “You are going to figure out how to tap into my power, and then I want you to get our there and sell, sell, sell. You’re going to be my witnesses – and then later, some of you are going to be up for “witness of the year.” Several of you are going to excel to the point that you will be called into the ministry, and a few lucky few of you will be listed in the “Witnesses Hall of Fame” for all the work you are going to do. Your picture’s gonna be up there, right next to Billy Graham’s. Yes sirree, you’re gonna be something.”

I just knew that’s what this passage was saying. Just to confirm my thinking, I pulled out my greek study tools. You know that I get a little dangerous when that happens. I looked at this passage, and discovered two really interesting words. “dynamo” is the word for power. “Pow.” Power – it makes sense. Then the word for “witness” – you shall be my “witnesses” – is the word “martyr.” Wow. You and I are going to get enough power to do the work of martyrs. That’s the stuff of good sermons, now, I’ll tell you. Heaping coals of fire on their heads.

I needed confirmation, so I called my two local greek experts to have them talk to me about the voice structure of a couple of phrases in this sentence – “You shall receive power” and “you shall be my witnesses.” I just knew that these were imperative statements – something like a command. That would confirm the way I’d heard this passage preached and taught all my life. “You’re gonna get the power, and then you gotta get out there and witness, witness, witness.” Imperative. Command. Duty. Your calling.

Boy, was I wrong. My greek experts both said the same thing – this comes from the passive voice, and both are future in their orientation. That’s “greek scholar talk” for saying that the first phrase emphasizes the action of the one giving out the power, not the one receiving it, while the second phrase isn’t an imperative – a command – rather it is indicative – it indicates what things are going to look like in the future.

I thought about that for a while. I so wanted this to be a command – an imperative. But it isn’t – rather, it’s a statement of reality in the future – an indicative statement. It’s actually much stronger than a promise – it says that our very definition as “christians” will be that we will be “proclaimers of the truth.” Later in the book of Acts, Luke reminds us that it was first at Antioch that the followers of Jesus were called “christians.” Little “c.” Little Christs. It was actually first a derogatory term – “Who do these little “christs” think they are – telling His story like that. What are they – “christians?”

You and I live again in a world where the name “Christian” isn’t a term of approval. In much of our world – even in our own country – it has become a derisive term. “Who does she think she is – a “Christian.” People almost say it with a jeer as they make fun of our obedience to our testimony. They see us as something to be scorned and laughed at.

Maybe we’re making some progress.

But can you hear how my attitude drifts toward the wrong question again? This passage isn’t about the word “power” or that other word – “martyr.” The emphasis of a middle voice in the greek is usually passive. The emphasis isn’t on us – it’s on the one doing the work on us, and through us. The emphasis is on the Spirit who has been promised, and who has been given, and who will accomplish a work through us. One of my greek experts the other evening described it as a “lead pipe cinch” – its a certainty. And any time a phrase is in the future tense – “you will receive” and “you shall be” – in the greek, the emphasis is always on the future action, and not on the outcome of the action.

Well, I’m quite certain that’s more greek than you wanted to hear – and none of you are obligated to say “It’s all greek to me” on your way out the door. What I do want you to go out the door with is this – When we get our eyes too focused on ourselves, we end up asking the wrong questions. We belong to Christ. We were bought with a price – paid for with His precious blood. We’ve bought into the concept – at least to the point of trusting Jesus for our salvation. The question isn’t when Jesus is going to restore the kingdom, or when Jesus is going to return, or even when we’re going to get our heavenly rewards. The question for the moment centers on the issue of our witness, and the power that will be given to us – this Holy Spirit of God. When we receive that kind of power, serving Christ is no longer a burden. It is a privilege. And it’s not so much something we do, as it is the definition of who we are.

It turns out that the angels who showed up after Jesus was transported into the heavens asked the best question. “Why are you standing here?” We might ask the same question of ourselves, as 21st century believers. Why are we standing here? As power filled, Holy Spirit empowered people – how can we fail in fulfilling Christ’s declaration of our purpose? How can we not be witnesses? It is our purpose, and it is our very definition. We are Christ’s witnesses.

“But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

The Question on our Minds

2006-05-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

6th Sunday of Easter

1st John 5:1-6

There has been a question on our minds this week. Every person I have run into has a common question on their minds. They might not even be able to verbalize the question – but it’s there. Here’s the question.

Just how human was Jesus?

Hollywood has tried to drop this question right in our laps. And John has an answer. Read with me again – verse 6 of our passage. “This is the One who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only but with the water and the blood. And the Spirit is the one that testifies, for the Spirit is the truth.”

Fully God – Fully human. That’s what they taught us in seminary – fully God, fully human. We talked about it in nearly every class I attended over in the theology school at Southwestern. We talked about it when we were sitting around the lunch table, and some even ventured to write papers on the subject. I never did – because all the talking and all the discussing never made it any clearer to me. I didn’t understand it then, and I don’t understand it now. Jesus was a one of a kind – born of water and blood, and testified to by the Spirit.

John was actually dealing with a growing problem of the day. There were those in that society that taught that Jesus wasn’t fully human – that He could do all that He did because He was God – it was His divinity that allowed Him to live a perfect life. They were known as Gnostics. There were a couple of variants to their thinking – one group of them thought that Jesus was born of a virgin, but because His heavenly Father was God, He was never really fully human – more like a God in human flesh. The other group was convinced that He was human just like any of the rest of us, but at His baptism, the Spirit of God came upon Him, and at that point He became something more like a God – more like a human with divine attributes. Either way, the Gnostics couldn’t conceive that Jesus could be fully God and fully human at the same time – and so they chose not to believe it. I go with them about half way – I can’t conceive it – but the difference for me is that I choose to believe it, whether I understand it or not.

Believe me; I’ve tried to understand it. I think a lot of people try – and whenever I get in a conversation with some theolog who thinks they know how to explain it, I can always find some wrinkle they haven’t thought of, and eventually they just end up saying, “Well, that’s the way I see it.”

For me, I’m torn. If Jesus wasn’t fully human – if He did the things that He did – and did them with perfection – only because He was God, then I have a problem with God asking me to live a perfect life. I have a problem with a God that hasn’t experienced every kind of temptation that I’ve known asking me to live up to something that He didn’t have to do – as a full human. I have a problem with a God like that asking me to live life perfectly when the life stuff comes around – like when I lose a job, or when I’m blessed with a mentally handicapped son. A lot of us can say offer our personal version of that same argument. As far as we know, Jesus never experienced divorce. As far as we know, Jesus never developed cancer. As far as we know, Jesus never got old enough to walk into a room and forget what He went in there for. We could use our own personal version of the argument in a lot of different ways, and we just might be justified – if Jesus wasn’t fully human.

On the other hand, if Jesus was fully human – well, that doesn’t make things easier for me. If He experienced every kind of temptation known to man, but without sin – well, that doesn’t make my puny, pitiful, sin-stained life any easier. I try, and I try, but I haven’t figured out how to life the perfect life. I continue to sin. I continue to fail. I continue to miss the mark and disappoint people and disappoint myself and trip over my own shoestrings. It doesn’t make it any easier for me if Jesus was fully human. There’s a side of me that hopes that the only reason He could do what He did was because He was God.

Fully God, fully human. One of a kind. I don’t understand it – there’s not another example. He’s the prototype, and they threw away the mold. Only one Jesus. One of a kind. Fully God, fully human.

That’s the question that’s on our minds – just how human was Jesus. But it’s the wrong question. We can ask that question till we’re blue in the face, and in the long run, it doesn’t make any difference. Our only two options, really, are to say, “It’s not fair,” or to throw up our hands in despair at our personal failures. Those are the only two options. In the long run, it doesn’t make any difference. And, it diverts us from our more important obligations.

John is trying to wrap things up by the time he gets to chapter 5. But he makes one last stab at reminding us of the things God thinks are important when it comes to our faith. Three things – believe, obey, and love. Those are the three tests of the Christian life. John says it just that forcefully – that these are like the barometer of our Christianity. This time around, John throws them at us in combinations.

“Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God, and everyone who loves the parent loves the child.” Here John mixes the theological test with the social test. We must believe that Jesus is the Christ, and we love the children of God. Pretty simple. Next verse. “By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments.” This is the mix of the social test and the moral test. We must love the children of God, and the way that we do so is by obeying the commandments. One more time. Verses 3 and 4 – “For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, for whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith.” A mix of the moral test and the theological test. We obey the commandments, and in doing so we prove our faith.

You remember that other Ron Howard, Tom Hanks movie – Apollo 13. Remember the line from it that got everyone’s attention – “Houston, we have a problem.” Well, John does something like that with these three tests. He would liken the three tests to a three legged stool. If any one of the three legs isn’t there, well, we have a problem. Here’s the way he would say it. If you believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and you keep the commandments, but you fail to love God’s other children, well then, we have a problem. Or, if you believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and you love all God’s children, but you aren’t interested in keeping God’s commandments, well, we have a problem. And again – if you keep the commandments, and you love the brothers and sisters, but you don’t believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, well then, we have a problem.

Believe, obey, love. Three tests.

This week, I thought of another way to look at each of these three tests. Jesus offers us life. That’s the message of Easter, really. About all He asks of us in return are three simple things, according to his good friend John. First, He wants us to believe Him. He wants us to believe Him when He says that He is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that no man comes to the Father except through Him.” He wants us to trust what He’s already done for us as though it’s our only option.

Do you remember the story of the little guy who fell off the cliff and caught a branch sticking out of the sheer wall on his way down? He’s hanging there, and he decides to call out to God. “God, can you help me?!?!?!” God calls back – “Let go!!” And the little guys hollers back, “Is there anybody else up there???” We have a tendency to trust Jesus, and then keep looking for a better deal, or more truth, or an easier way. Jesus wants us to trust Him like there isn’t any other option.

Second – Jesus wants us to keep the commandments. And not like the guy who came up and asked him, “Which is the greatest commandment?” as though he was looking for the cliff notes on obedience. Jesus wants us to keep all of the commandments – and to do so like it was partly our idea to come up with each and every one of them. John says that they aren’t a burden – and if they feel like a burden to you, well, maybe you’re going about keeping them all wrong. Maybe you need to see the beauty in the commandments – they keep us out of trouble, and if we keep them, we’re not always trying to climb out of a hole. And when we think that we’ve got ‘em licked, we mess up, and they remind us just how much we need Jesus in the first place. It’s a great system, really.

Third thing – Jesus wants us to love each other. And again, if you’re like the guy who asked the question about this “who’s my neighbor” stuff, you’re probably going about it all wrong. Jesus died for the whole world, so that’s the answer – they’re all your neighbors. Muslims and Jews and Baptists and Methodists and Catholics and pagans and Democrats and Republicans and women and men and children and bosses and employees and moms and dads and brothers and sisters – they’re all your neighbors. You don’t have to ask again – just love ‘em all, and love ‘em like you’d like to be loved in return.

Well, that’s what John had to say. Jesus said it this way. “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

Amen.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Maturing Faith: In the Spirit

2006-05-14T08:56:00.000-07:00

5th Sunday of Easter

1st John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8

Did you see the piece on the news Thursday night about Religiously Transmitted Diseases? Pastor Ed Gungor from Tulsa has written a new book (of course) in which he addresses the growing apathy in churches. His book is a somewhat tongue-in-cheek look at certain spiritual behaviors among Christian people – he has assigned interesting names to these RTDs, such as “individualitis” – the need to try to go it alone with just Jesus and me; “affluenza” – a faith life that measures success only if you have a Ferrari; and “inferioritis” – the tendency for Christians to feel that nothing they have to offer to God is good enough. Pastor Gungor makes one observation that I think is highly accurate – most of these are diseases of the spirit – spiritual diseases.

Also this week, I read Matthew Fox’s new book entitled A New Reformation. I want to share with you what he said in the introduction, page 7 – “Present-day Protestantism suffers from apathy, or what our ancestors called acedia, a lack of energy or a kind of spiritual sloth. Descriptors I would apply to today’s Protestantism are: anemic, tired, boring, incurious, unadventurous, emasculated, compromising, confused, depressed (a recent study found that about 80 percent of the pastors in one liberal branch of Protestantism are taking antidepressant drugs!), unmystical, lost, irrelevant, preoccupied with trivia, uninspired, one-dimensional, and burned out. All the issues that these adjectives imply are in fact spiritual in nature. Protestantism often lacks a profound spirituality (the word spirituality was rarely in its theological vocabulary until very recently) and this lack is beginning to show. What has happened to the protest in Protestantism? What will it take to bring it back? Protestantism has a proud and profound intellectual heritage, yet it is allowing itself to be mowed over by anti-intellectual fundamentalism, which has hijacked Jesus, Christ, and Christianity as a whole.”[1]

Two weeks ago, I attended the Cooperating Baptist Fellowship of Oklahoma General Assembly meeting in Stillwater, and our friend Daniel Vestal spoke. Daniel is always good in the pulpit, but I sensed in him a passion that I’ve not seen before. One thing he said took me back, and I quote – “There is a spiritual awakening happening in our world today, the likes of which has not been seen since the Great Awakening – and the sad truth is that most of us in our churches don’t even know that its going on . . .”

You and I would have to admit that we are experiencing something of a spiritual lethargy – even in our own congregation. If it were merely a case of lack of interest in the usual, same-o-same-o activities associated with church, I could probably write it off to something that will pass – kind of like a spiritual indigestion. But I am starting to hear from people – Christians, mind you – who say that they have less and less interest in the things of God, and less and less time for God at all. We are experiencing a spiritual malaise like I haven’t seen in my 49 years, and it concerns me – it ought to concern all of us.

John says this – “By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.” God’s Spirit – abiding in each of us. I have a hard time conceiving that the presence of the Spirit of God “takes a break” from time to time in our lives – or worse, that the Spirit of God would lose interest in the things of God. The testimony of the scriptures is quite clear – God expects that we mature in our faith, and that one evidence of that maturation is growth in the way in which the Spirit of God has movement in our lives.

You might say, “Pastor, you overstate the case. We are ecclesiological ‘moderates’ – and moderates don’t get excited about much of anything.” You are right about that – moderates don’t tend to get very excited about spiritual passions – or at least you can’t tell if they’re excited. But I don’t speak so much of excitement as I do “passion.” Did you hear the descriptors Matthew Fox used - incurious, unadventurous, irrelevant, uninspired, one-dimensional, and burned out??? If I were to attempt to diagnose our dis-ease, I might ask us some questions? #1 – Do you know how to identify the working of the Spirit in your life? #2 – How has that changed over the years you have been a Christian? And #3 – Does the Spirit work in your life more or less than in years past?

Your pastor can testify to my own life. I can say that in certain circumstances, I am quite aware – able to notice – when the Spirit is working in my life. I can give you a rather specific example – I have learned that when you cross my mind during the course of the day that I am to instantly pray for you – whether I know of your personal circumstances at the moment or not – and that if the prompting of the Spirit persists, that I am to pick up the phone and give you a call. Rarely is such a phone call unappreciated or not of immediate value on the part of the person on my mind. I’ve come to feel that about the worst that can happen is that I interrupt you at an inconvenient time, and you are always forgiving about that.

I can go on to address the second question in that sequence – “How has my recognition of the work of the Spirit in my life changed over the years?” I can answer that question in the positive and the negative. If I posture myself correctly for a day, I am prepared for the prompting of the Spirit. It doesn’t always come, but I am prepared. If I fail to posture myself correctly – fail to make adequate mental preparation – then the promptings of the Spirit are something of a surprise, and I don’t always respond adequately, and certainly not promptly.

And that third question – “Does the Spirit work in my life more or less than in years past? – I almost hate to answer that question. The sad part about living in human, fleshly, sin-tainted bodies (with minds to match) is that I am more able to resist the promptings of the Spirit – I have grown more adept, more sly in my abilities to avoid, delay, or otherwise disobey the urgings of the Spirit.

Here’s where you get the Mother’s Day part of the message – some of you thought I’d forgot, didn’t you? Mothers remind me of the Spirit – at least they are adept at nagging – I mean, urging us – like the Spirit does. But my third example is no more clearly seen than in the case of mothers – as we mature, we all seem to grow more proficient at avoiding, shunning, or otherwise overlooking suggestions from mom. By the time we arrive at adulthood, perhaps the only influence our mothers have over us is that which they generated many years ago – for we have long since taken to our own ways, and the making of our own decisions. Advice from mom is rarely solicited, and perhaps even less frequently applied. Not because moms are not valuable – we just learn to assert our independence.

Ah, there’s the rub. Independence. I suspect that American Christians have more trouble with what I’m about to say than Christians in other parts of the world. Independence is such a part of our culture in this country that it rather naturally works its way over into our Christian psyches and faith practices. We conceive that maturation must mean independence – from Christ, maybe from God, and certainly from the Spirit. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“By this we know that we abide in him and he in us . . .” Did you hear the word – abide – the illustration from John’s gospel for us today is the vine and the branches. There is no “independence” in the world of vine growing. Rather, we see something quite dependent – branches can’t grow if they’re not still attached to the vine. We remain in the vine. We get our life forces from the vine. If God is our Source - if Christ and the Spirit of God are our Source – we must remain attached – fully dependent on the Spirit – for any “fruitful” outcome. When we achieve “dependence,” only then can we speak of “interdependence” – the idea that the vine, this source, needs us, just like we need the vine.

I have a berry vine growing in my backyard. Actually, it’s the only thing growing in my garden this year, and it’s starting to take over. I consulted a berry vine expert this week, and I now know how to address its overgrowth. You know about berries – well, really any fruit, for that matter. It’s the new branches that bear the best fruit. In the berry world, last year’s new branches produce the “king fruit,” and this years “new growth” will produce something less spectacular. But it will mature, and will produce more and better berries – next year.

In the epistle, John comes back to remind us that “God is love.” Then in verse 18 he says, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear . . .” So much of the reason that we don’t mature in the Spirit is fear. What did the man say in the garden – “I hid, because I was afraid . . .?” Isn’t fear the thing that works against us when it comes to obedience to spiritual prompting? “Don’t call your friend – they’ll think you’re nuts for calling out of the blue like that!!” “You can’t teach a Sunday School class – what if the children know more that you know?” By the way, I can help you with that one. We have some smart kiddos back in the back, and some of them just might know more than you know – but not to worry – they’re pretty gracious about helping adults, and Mary and Gary and Debbie can teach you a couple of tricks so that you don’t look like you don’t know what you’re doing. Remember, perfect love casts out fear. Love trumps evil. Christ has defeated death – that’s the theme of Easter, and really the theme of the Christian life, all year long.

I know you think I sound like a broken record, but we first start learning how to respond to the promptings of the Spirit with our sisters and brothers in this church. I say to you, this church, because this is where God has planted you. Grow here. Mature here. Bear fruit here. Then we branch out, much like Philip did when he trusted the Spirit to lead him to that Ethiopian in the desert. He didn’t fail – how could he – he followed the leading of the Spirit.

Brothers and sisters – friends of mine on this journey – love is being perfected in us and among us. Abide in the Spirit. Bear fruit. Mature in your faith – in the Spirit.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Matthew Fox, A New Reformation: Creation Spirituality and the Transformation of Christianity, (Inner Traditions, Rochester, Vt.), p.7.

Maturing Faith: Of the Heart

2006-05-07T12:17:00.000-07:00

4th Sunday of Easter

1st John 3:16-24

Love one another.

There were four children in my family of origin. I was the eldest, born in 1957; Tony came along in 1958, Rusty in ’63, and Tracy surprised us all in ’68 – eleven years my junior. As in most families, I suppose, as we aged, disciplining us became something of a “more difficult” task. We would fuss and argue about pretty much anything. We were experts at making sure Mom knew that the discipline meted out on any one of us “wasn’t fair” in comparison to how the others were treated. By the time I was in High School, Mother had started to resort to attempting to shame us into superior behavior. More than once she would look at us, and all she could say was “Children, love one another!!” It was all we could do to keep from cracking up.

That still happens from time to time, when we’re together. We have a strong competitive streak in our family, and occasionally we get into some kind of verbal argument about some absurd point, and Mom will watch from the sidelines until she can’t stand it any more, and then wade in with her admonition – “Children, love one another.”

Strangely, her words always made us stop short. You see, they weren’t her words – at least they weren’t original with her. Jesus first spoke these words, and then John took up the task of reminding us - as Christians, we are to love one another.

It never gets any easier to hear these words from John. Love one another. We have some questions. “John, are we supposed to love everybody, or just the people we go to church with? I mean, you know that we’re in a war right now, and that we’re having to pay nearly $3.00 at the gas pump, and politicians are worse than ever, and those other kind of Baptists really get our goat? Are we supposed to love all those people too, or just our families and our sisters and brothers at church?” Yeah – it never gets any easier.

Christ expects us to mature in our faith. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind. Grow in your love for God. Mature – and as you gather more resources about you – resources of heart, soul, strength and mind – offer those resources to God as well. Love God, and show God that you love God by loving others.”

When we encounter 1st John, he challenges our growth – our maturity in love – by starting out with the example of Christ. “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.”

“Well, John – that brings up a few more questions. You say we ought to lay down our lives in love? Does that mean that we really have to? And like we asked a while ago – just who are these people we’re supposed to lay down our lives for? Arabs, Africans, Mexicans – or just Americans? Muslims, Jews, pagans – or just Christians? Catholics, Lutherans, and Methodists – or just Baptists? Just how far are you asking us to go in this “lay down your lives” thing?”

You and I know the answer to these questions – but our minds ask them anyway. Our minds and our hearts, calloused by the world, seek to limit the scope to which we serve God by loving others. The answer is simple, really – we are to extend the love of Christ to every person for whom Christ died. When you start to question whom you should love, remind yourself of John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world . . .”

There is a sense in which our love starts at home. John states it for us – “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” Our own homes, and our own church is the starting place. We prove the love of Christ first with those whom we already love. And the implication from John is that if we can’t start loving at home, how will we succeed beyond those reaches? Lest we be confused we are to take the love of God to our Jerusalem, our Judea, our Samaria, and to the farthest reaches of the world. You and I are called to share the love of Christ with people in Enid, folks in Oklahoma, neighbors in Kansas, and people outside of our country. That is the scope of the ever expansive reach of our love for others.

John has more for us to hear. “Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” There is some evidence that the church John originally wrote these words to had some problems getting along with one another. Every church is like that to some degree, I suppose – and although our church does better than most in this area, we must constantly be on guard. We must constantly be concerned that our actions match our speech – that we don’t just “say” that we love each other, but that our actions prove the love we have for each other. John gives us the standard – and it’s a tough standard – individual conscience. Here’s the way we frame the question for ourselves – this day and every day – “Does the way I act toward my fellow church members prove to my own mind and heart that I love them?” I can tell you right now – as your pastor, I stand condemned on this one. I don’t do nearly enough to prove to my own mind and heart that I truly love each person in this congregation. God knows my heart – and I come up short.

When I was in seminary, and looking for some good commentary sets to fill my library shelves, the cheapest set of New Testament commentaries I could find was the Tyndale NT Commentaries. I think I bought the whole set for $60 bucks. Anyway, over the years I’ve taught 1st John probably 15 times to one group or the other, and I always go back to this Tyndale commentary for the structure to my teaching. John R.W. Stott is the author of this particular volume, and Stott makes the point that in 1st John, John lays out a three-fold test related to confidence in our Christian faith. The first test is the moral test – the test of obedience. It’s stated in 1st John 2:3 – “By this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments.” John says that one indicator that we are truly Christian is if we remain obedient to Christ by obeying the commandments of Christ. Then the third test in the series is the doctrinal test – we might call it the “belief” test – do we truly believe that Jesus is the Christ. But the second test – the social test – is what we might call the “love” test – John says that we can know that we are Christian by our love for one another. John begins his argument for the social test in chapter 2:7-11. In verse 9, he says, “the one who says he is in the light and yet hates his brother is in the darkness until now, and the one who loves his brother abides in the light and there is no cause for stumbling in him.”

So, according to John there are three tests to our Christian faith – 1. Do we believe that Jesus is the Christ, 2. Do we obey His commandments, and 3. Do we love our brothers and sisters? John spends the rest of the book of 1st John elaborating on these tests, and considering them in combination.

Here, starting in verse 21, the sense of what John is doing is quite clear. He reminds us that our conscience holds us each to account, and if our conscience is clear, we can have confidence before God. Then He says that we can ask of God anything we wish because we keep the commandments of God, and then John reminds us that the greatest of the commandments is to love each other. He looks at the moral test and the social test in response to one another. We best keep the commandment of God by loving one another. That’s his point – we are commanded to love.

This week I read Will Willimon on this passage, and he titled his sermon study “Determined to Love.” He offers something of a different motivation for loving – one of personal, solid determination. He makes the case that Christians show a different kind of love than the world knows – one that is forged in personal determination to prove our love to Christ by loving those for whom Christ died.

The reason I mention these two resources – Stott and Willimon – is to point out that when it comes to love, motivation is important to consider. Here’s why – love is a sneaky thing, and the way the world looks at love doesn’t help the matter any. Our world would have us believe that love is something that we feel – period. We love because we are captivated by someone else – by their looks, by their beauty, perhaps by their personality or some other innate quality – and we simply can’t help ourselves – we fall in love. That’s the world’s definition of love. I suppose there’s something to it, but Christian love offers another viewpoint. We love as a choice. We choose to love.

Like God did.

God chose to send Christ. First God created us. That was a love choice. God didn’t have to create us, but God did. Then God gave us opportunity to live here, free on the earth. We took advantage of that opportunity, and we squandered it by choosing to live our lives apart from the will of God. We sinned. So, by God’s choice, God made provision for our redemption. God sent Jesus. God sent Jesus to pay the price for our redemption, and while He was here, to show us how to live. Jesus was the greatest example of love the world has known. You have questions about how to love – look to Jesus. He showed us – perfectly. He came to this world in love. He lived a life of service in love. He taught us about the Father in love. He stretched out his arms to die for us in love. And He rose from the grave in love. Then, again in love, Jesus sent the Spirit to abide in us, that we might know His love, and that we might share His love with others. All of this – in love.

About two years ago, I started collecting DVDs of Academy Award winning movies. My most recent acquisition is “Shakespeare in Love” – the story of William Shakespeare during the time he was writing Romeo and Juliet. You remember the story line of Romeo and Juliet. Young, star crossed lovers – greatest love story every written. Anyway, in the movie, there is discussion as to whether someone can write a love story that shows love at its zenith. Someone makes a bet, and Queen Elizabeth says, “Fifty pounds! A very worthy sum on a very worthy question. Can a play show us the very truth and nature of love? I bear witness to the wager, and will be the judge of it as occasion arises. I have not seen anything to settle it yet.”[1]

In the end of the story of Romeo and Juliet, the lovers unknowingly show their love for each other by taking their own lives. Queen Elizabeth is duly impressed, and commands that the wager be paid.

Shakespeare was on to something, I think. The greatest expression of love calls upon someone to give their life. That’s what Jesus did. He gave His life.

I have a question to ask us. Members of Cornerstone, I have a question for us. How do we lay down our lives for each other? I am the judge – for my conscience only. You are the judge – for your conscience.

Beloved, we ought to love one another. And we ought to lay down our lives for one another. Whatever motivation you need to get there - whatever encouragement you need – this is our calling – to mature in love for one another, even as Christ has loved us.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0138097/quotes

Maturing Faith: In the Flesh

2006-04-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

3rd Sunday of Easter

1st John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36b-48

It comes from one of the earliest scenes of one of my favorite movies – Dead Poet’s Society. Robin Williams stars as John Keating, an English teacher returning to his alma mater, Welton Prep School for boys. At the beginning of his first class, Keating takes the boys out into the foyer of the main building, and has them gather in front of the trophy cabinets – filled with memorabilia from decades of Welton history. He is attempting to prod them in a direction they have never traveled, as he says to them:

They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because, you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it? - - Carpe - - hear it? - - Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.

This week I have been thinking a lot about my Dad. Yesterday was the first anniversary of his death, and I can hardly believe it. I didn’t tell anyone when this happened to me last year, but there was a night when I awoke with a start – my mind had drifted to Dad, lying in a coffin in the ground, and that image of his physical body beginning the process of returning to dust startled me awake. Mom visited Dad’s grave yesterday, and she said to me on the phone, “Of course, he’s not there. He’s not there - he’s someplace else.”

The gospel and epistle writers let us in on the details of what happens when we die, only enough to suggest that the remnants of our earthly bodies will be united with our heavenly souls at the return of Christ, and we shall inherit a new, heavenly body. John says it this way – “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” None of us know what that will look like, and none of us, I suspect, can truly imagine what that will really be like. But it is our promise.

In the meantime, we are here, living what the early Greeks identified as the dichotomy of flesh and spirit. Sarx and pneuma, to use the Greek words. As my 49 year old body can testify, and to use Dad’s words, “Aging isn’t for the faint of heart.”

The apostle Paul addressed this dichotomy of flesh and spirit, at least enough to draw some pretty ominous conclusions – spirit is good, flesh is a problem – at least for most of us. From the day we are born until the day we die, we grapple with the flesh. We are caught up in the struggle of giving in to the flesh vs. taming the flesh.

It takes on so many different forms, this struggle. When we are small children, we are learning mastery over our physical bodies. Discovery of our flesh, developing mobility, achieving agility – these are the tasks of our infancy. When we arrive at adolescence, the struggle becomes one of balancing pleasure with wisdom and patience. As we reach adulthood, we begin the long battle with maintenance and health, and if we live long enough, we begin battling deterioration and disease. This is a lifelong battle – this struggle between flesh and spirit.

I was blessed to be reared in a church where we had a Youth Minister. Don Sims was my Youth Minister from the time I reached the seventh grade until I graduated from High School. Don was wonderful for the boys in our youth group. He recognized something very important, and he helped us understand the nature of the struggle. He helped frame the struggle for us – it was best considered to be a struggle “in the flesh,” and not one “from the flesh.” I was reared in south Texas – the Houston area. When I went to children’s camp as a child, I remember being “unimpressed” that we were required to swim in separate facilities – the boys had a pool, and the girls had a pool. I asked the leaders of that camp about this, and they said that we didn’t participate in “mixed bathing.” That part didn’t surprise me, but I thought we were talking about swimming. When Don came along, and we went to our own youth camp, he realized the seeming hypocrisy of the situation, and our youth swam in the same pool. I say hypocrisy, because during the summers, when we weren’t on youth outings, we went to the beach together – boys and girls – and so a decision to ask us to swim in separate facilities just seemed downright hypocritical.

Don helped me with a spiritual principle. We do not strive to serve God “apart from the flesh.” We strive to serve God “in the flesh.”

Jesus Christ lived in the flesh. In fact, we are taught that Christ was fully human, even as He was fully divine. Our gospel passage from this morning reminds us how important the physical was to Christ, and in an effort to help His disciples make the transition from His physical body to His spiritual body – you know, the body that could walk through walls – He asked for and ate a piece of fish. That may tell us something. Then, the first experiences of temptation for him included physical temptations. The scriptures tell us that He was tempted in all ways, as are we. The difference between Christ and us was that He did not succumb to temptation – even physical temptation.

Now, that may be a difficult concept for some. Isn’t physical gratification a sin? Isn’t it a sin to “give into the flesh?” The answer begins to speak to satisfaction, moderation, and exception. When we are hungry, it is not sin to satisfy our hunger. Moderation is key to our physical yearnings. I am often humorously struck by the rotund, gluttonous Baptist preachers of the south who preach against “all manner of sin.” That word “hypocrisy” comes to mind again. But then, I do have my own hypocrisies – so grace is certainly warranted. And then occasionally, exception is called for – we make exception to our moderation for the sake of illness, celebration, or perhaps fasting.

John has a word for us – He says, “All who have this hope in Him purify themselves, just as He is pure.” In that short sentence, we come to realize that God desires faith maturity, not “apart” from our flesh, but “in” our flesh. We are admonished to “purify” ourselves.

Well, just what does that mean? You may have read this last week that William Sloane Coffin died. William Sloane Coffin served as chaplain of Yale University from 1958-1976. Coffin initially became famous at Yale University in the 60's for his opposition to the Vietnam War. He was jailed (the first of many times) as a civil rights Freedom Rider," indicted by the government in the Benjamin Spock conspiracy trial, and was president emeritus of SANE/FREEZE: Campaign for Global Security. He fought in World War II, worked for the CIA for three years, and has been immortalized as Reverend Sloan in the Doonesbury comic strip.[1] He loved to quote one of the early church fathers: “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.”

When we seek to understand what John meant by calling us to “purity,” we do well to measure our calling by the yardstick of Sloane’s statement – “the glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Our call to purity is not a call to avoid the pleasures of the flesh. To the contrary – our call to purity is to embrace the inherent goodness of what God has created – the pinnacle of God’s creation – mankind. God pronounced that part of His creation “good” as well.

I could offer to you a myriad of illustrations today, but as I said earlier, I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad this week, and I think I’ll let his life be something of an illustration for us. At sister Tracy’s church this morning are blue flowers – in a vase that says “Blue Bell Ice Cream.” I come by my addiction to Blue Bell honestly. From the time I was a small boy, Dad would eat a little ice cream at night – two or three scoops – usually Blue Bell. Dad was a good eater – understanding the value of moderation. He never really struggled with weight, probably because he knew the value of doing “push-aways” right along with his “push-ups.” On the other hand, it took him longer – well into his fifties – to learn that jalapeños at dinner made for a long night.

Dad was something of a health nut before it came into such vogue. He played handball during his college days, and I remember him jogging when we were small children. When the weather was bad, and sometimes when it wasn’t, he would jog in the house. Then he would have one of us hold his legs down for him while he did his sit-ups. That was a sweaty job!! When his back told him to stop jogging, he took up golf and tennis. He introduced his boys and his daughter to those sports. We played tennis with Dad until he was in his late sixties, and golf until he was in his mid seventies.

When we lived on Cardinal Circle in Pasadena, Texas, Dad became the unofficial sports prompter for the entire neighborhood. One day, on a whim, he took a tape measure and measured off 100 yards on the street, and then painted a line for the start and finish. Then he would time us in the 100 yard dash – not just my brothers and sister – no, he would race against us, and he would encourage us to race against our friends in the neighborhood.

One of his most endearing qualities was his penchant for strangeness – well, at least to a son. Dad loved his cars, and he tried to take good care of them. So, when we would go to the store, Dad would park at the far reaches of the parking lot, so that people wouldn’t “ding” his car doors. I suspect, though, that part of his purpose was to teach us that walking was good for us, and you could often see us “race” back to the car when we left the store. Dad eventually became the gracious loser to his “speedier” sons – but he would still race, nonetheless.

The flesh of my father finally succumbed to his disease, and now he is experiencing his “glorified” body. But he taught me some things about faith maturation “in the flesh.” He taught me about moderation. He taught me stewardship of the flesh. He taught me how to stretch toward my potential. And I think the words of William Sloane Coffin are appropriate – for Dad’s life, and as an example to me – and to us.

“The glory of God is a human being fully alive.”

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] http://www.pbs.org/now/society/coffin.html

Maturing Faith: Of the Mind”

2006-04-23T14:13:00.000-07:00

2nd Sunday of Easter

1st John 1:1 – 2:2

When He was asked which was the greatest commandment, Jesus responded with two scriptures from the Old Testament – “love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” We don’t know everything that Christ meant by those words, but His words suggest that we love God with all we have to muster, and as we develop more capabilities and resources, we love God with those as well.

For the next four weeks, I am going to share with you something of a series of sermons from the book of 1st John. I am entitling the series “Maturing Faith,” and you might surmise from that title that I believe that as Christian believers, we mature in our faith.

Pastoring you as a congregation has been a learning experience for me. Let me provide one rather specific example. I accepted Christ at the age of nine. Most of my friends at that time accepted Christ at nine – oh, a few made that decision when they were eight, and some held on until they were ten or eleven, but most kids made that decision when they were nine. Usually, it was an emotional decision. It was for me. As your pastor, I have had to grow in my understanding of how our children respond in faith to Christ. We don’t apply a lot of emotional pressure on our kiddos, and subsequently, they have tended to make their decision to trust Christ a little later down the path – some making the decision as late as 14 or 15. That used to worry me, and then I began to see that their decision had more of an intellectual base – in other words, their decision was a decision of the mind, as well as of the heart.

We expect that people grow in their faith. Not just in faith expression, but faith capacity, as well. This first sermon in series suggests that we mature in our faith in mental ways – and the implication is that we offer that mental maturity to God as we seek to serve God.

Our scriptures work in harmony this morning. The story of Thomas and his doubts presents clear indication that when confronted with the mental reality that Jesus was alive, Thomas left his doubts behind, and served Christ. I’ll take you one step further – his statement, “My Lord and my God!” indicates more than intellectual ascent – it indicates something of an increased commitment of heart and will. When he came to know, he became more able to serve.

Well, that is only natural. We expect Christians to mature in faith. That’s what Sunday school is all about. We place our children in a position and atmosphere where learning is possible and predictable. We don’t think their learning stops when they reach their teen years, and we believe that adults learn and progress in their abilities to know and serve. From the cradle to the grave – the mantra of Christian education.

When we turn to the 1st John text, we could almost write a seminary text for the Psychology of Education classes. John’s first statement is a statement that outlines the progression that is used in taxonomies – that’s a ten dollar word that speaks to the system whereby we instruct students. In Educational Psychology, we learned that while they are learning, students progress through various levels of learning – i.e., they first discover knowledge, then they comprehend, and finally they make application. At a higher level of learning, they analyze information, then they synthesize that which has been analyzed, and finally they evaluate their progress.

John says that we learned something about Jesus. We learned by we have experienced – with our ears, our eyes, and what we have touched. I shared with some people last week that I love to watch you as you watch our children take hold of the faith. I used as an illustration our Good Friday service, and the fact that the children and I go out to the cross, and they help me change the cloth. There is something impressive about handling the cloth as we take it off and put it on the cross. Last week, when we completed that activity, Travis came over to me, and with tears in his voice, said, “Daddy, why?” I wish I knew all that he was asking, don’t you? I think he was asking why Jesus had to die! At the age of 49, I’m still working on my answer to that one!!

We expect that people move beyond a simple emotional response to the gospel message. Around here, that isn’t always easy – we tend to be a pretty emotional group. But our intent to grow cognitively – mentally – as Christians suggests that we will have, year in and year out, greater resources and capacity with which to serve God.

John makes another observation for us regarding growth in our faith. His first words in the epistle – “we declare to you.” His statement, and several other statements in the same passage suggest that we tell what we know. As we know more, we tell more. Not for the purpose of showing off – goodness, there’s enough of that in this world. No, rather we announce – or maybe “pronounce” that which we have come to know. In other words, our knowledge is not just for personal consumption. I served on staff in Dallas 20 years ago with my friend Ron Kendrick. During that time, our church was significantly involved in studying spiritual gifts, and in that process, Ron and I discovered that we shared a common gift – something of a gift for knowledge. In other words, we had something of a temperament or gift for retaining various points of information about the scriptures and other things related to the Christian life. In that testing time, indications were that I also had something of a gift for teaching – the materials we were studying indicated that that combination – knowledge and teaching – was not an unusual combination. What surprised me was that Ron didn’t think that he had the gift of teaching. This difference manifested itself this way - I would discover something in my study, and I would walk across the office to tell Ron what I had just learned. He would look at me and say, “Yeah, I saw that a couple of days ago.” I would say incredulously, “And you didn’t tell me?”, and he would say, “No, I didn’t need to – remember, I don’t have a gift of teaching.” I never understood how he could keep information to himself. It didn’t make any sense to me.

John would agree – we don’t learn more about Christ so that we can simply know more. We learn that we might serve Christ by serving others. He is basically saying, “Friends, we have something to tell you. It’s not just what we think – it’s what we know – because we experienced it, and we are compelled to tell you about it.” That’s a rough Dunn translation. God revealed something of Godself to us, and we are compelled to tell others what we have come to know and believe. Sharing the gospel isn’t just for a few selected preachers and teachers – sharing what you know about the gospel is your calling as a Christian – we all can tell what we know and have believed – and we must tell.

Well, what is it that we tell? What do we have to say?? John says, “This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you . . .” “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” You’re kidding, John – you expect me to explain that concept? Light and darkness – truth and righteousness? I don’t vaguely understand God, must less be able to explain Him?” If that were our calling, I’d agree with you. God’s a pretty big subject to try to explain. We stopped too early in our reading. Keep going with me. “If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true.”

That’s more like it. This is more of a comparative statement – a “God is God, and we’re not!!” kind of thing. That level of truth I can get a handle on. My sin is ever before me.

I said something during Lent on my blog. Something to the effect that during Lent, we take a good, honest look at our sin. While our examination is rather intentional during those 40 days, we don’t stop there. We maintain an awareness of our sin throughout the year, and throughout our lives. John gets pretty blunt as this passage goes on – “if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” Ouch!! That’s brutal!! “If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” Ouch!! That’s way harsh!! Yeah, it is. The truth sometimes hurts.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Wednesday night. We were having Prayer Meeting, and we had come to the time in our prayer where we shared our struggles and failings with one another. We had divided into groups of three, and I was in a group with two men. I could tell that they were uncomfortable with the idea of sharing personal sin – so, I thought I would model the role for us. I shared something that I had been struggling with all week, and had not really done all that well. The other guys nodded as though they understood my struggle, and could sympathize. Then I turned to one of the others, and said, “Tell me how you have struggled this week.” He said, “I really don’t have any sin – I don’t struggle with really anything these days.” This verse jumped out at me – “If we say we have no sin . . .”

I know confession is hard. We all struggle, and we struggle with admitting that we struggle. There is value to confession. It is cathartic. It’s cleansing. We get the opportunity to start over – again. Progress in Christian faith doesn’t do away with our sin. To the contrary, I am made more aware of my failings as I grow in Christlikeness. John goes on to say that Christ’s purpose in our lives works to help us to avoid sin. At the same time, Jesus knows that we will continue to fail, and as we do so, He remains faithful to stand in the gap with us.

“Pastor, why would John link this idea of growing in knowledge and maturity with a discussion of our sin?” It’s a good question. I have an answer – I don’t know if it’s a good answer – but I have an answer. It comes from my own experience. I have come to learn things about my sin, and in the process, I’ve learned things about Jesus. I started out thinking that I had no sin – that I didn’t need Jesus. At the age of nine, I came to realize that I was a sinner, and that I desperately needed Jesus. As I have grown, I have gone through more metamorphosis – at times I have tried to ignore my sin, at times I’ve tried to conquer it, and at times I have been overwhelmed by it. There have been times when I thought “What’s the use?” and there have been other times when I have been overwhelmed by the patience and redemptive power of Christ.

Maturity – most of us think of maturity as arriving at a time in our lives when we don’t vacillate so much – we aren’t like the toddler who falls and then stands up again. We are more like the agile teenager who has much greater control over their physical abilities. As a maturing Christian, I struggle less and less with the “struggle of sin” – the reality that I sin, and that Jesus has redeemed me from that sin.

As we grow in breadth and depth of knowledge about our faith, we come to realize all the more our need for Christ. As our knowledge expands, as our faith stretches, somehow things become more and more clear, and for most of us, more and more simple.

While I was still in seminary, the church I served had a choir special at Christmas time. We sang some old gospel hymns, and there was a new song which sounded like it ought to be an old gospel song. We asked an older gentleman in the choir to sing the song. The words rang true for his life, and I think, for ours today.

Since I started for the Savior,
Since my life He controls,
Since I gave my heart to Jesus,
The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.

The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.
The more that I love Him, more love He bestows.
Each day is like heaven, my heart overflows,
The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

He Did What ?!?!

2006-04-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

Easter

John 20:1-18

I had a conversation with a new friend on Monday or Tuesday. I told him how busy Easter week is for me, and then when you throw in completing the income taxes – well, you know . . . Anyway, he asked a question. “Is Easter still that big of a day for you in terms of how many people show up?” We commented about the growth of Christmas services in popularity, and the seeming decline in Easter worship, and I said to him, “Well, Easter is the hard part of the story to believe!!”

For a lot of people, Easter is the hard part – to believe. The story is a simple story – God creates man, man messes up, God needs to redeem man. So God sends God’s Son. The birth part of the story is easily believable. Jesus walks among us – roughly 33 years – teaching us something of what God is like, and then He dies for our sins. That part we can buy – especially the “our sins” part of it. We can believe Jesus came to earth, We have lots of “Jesus” documentation. Nearly everyone believes he was here.

But then Sunday morning rolls around, the stone has been rolled away, and we say to our collective selves, “He did what?!?!?!”

Resurrection. Brought back to life. We have some stories of the sort – even in contemporary life – near death experiences – people trapped under the ice for 30 minutes, not breathing, and then resuscitated – things like that. But after they’ve been dead for three days? This is the stuff of fairy tales and myths!!

From the very first moments it’s been a hard story to believe. The women checked out the tomb early in the morning, and then ran to report the missing body to the disciples. They didn’t believe them. So the boys went running – had to check this one out for themselves. John got there first, and he says that he believed immediately. I wonder. Peter – always in John’s mind the “dense one” – didn’t put it together until sometime later. And what did they do with this miraculous news. They went home. That’s all – they went home.

The authorities had difficulty with the story as well. They concocted a story that put the responsibility on the disciples. They even anticipated such – posting guards at the tomb. They finally said that someone must have stolen the body – dead folk don’t get up and walk out of tombs.

Thomas didn’t believe it at first. I suspect that if the other disciples hadn’t been in the upper room when Jesus first appeared to them all – except Thomas – I suspect they would have had trouble believing it as well. At least Thomas was honest – “I’ll have to see Him for myself – see the wounds – before I’ll believe.” That happened in a few days.

There were more appearance stories. He met with Simon Peter and the boys for breakfast on the seashore. He appeared to a couple walking on the road to Emmaus – they didn’t recognize Him until He broke the bread in front of their eyes. He appeared to the 40 regular followers, and then there are accounts of Him appearing to several others.

Finally, as if to cap off the appearance stories, He meets with them, gives them a commission, and then ascends into the heavens.

It’s a pretty tall story to believe. It is the hard part to believe.

I was watching a documentary on television just yesterday, and some New Testament scholars were commenting about the difficulty of this part of the story. They spoke of all the theories surrounding His body and His disappearance. One professor reminded us that often people conjure appearance of those they have loved and lost to death. Grieving people come up with stories all the time about seeing their loved one standing at the foot of the bed and calling out to them. Usually we chalk those stories up to the dream world.

Then they posed the question, “What if they came up with evidence of a body? What if they found Jesus – now?” They kicked it around for a while, and about half of them indicated that the presence of a body wouldn’t alter their faith.

I want to remind us of something. These people in the story – they were Jews. I’ve known a few Jewish people in my life. When I was a teenager, we lived across the street from Ed and Ruth Shapiro in Pasadena, Texas. They were wonderful neighbors – exceptionally ecumenical – and that’s before I knew what that word meant. We would take them something symbolizing their roots to the Passover, and they would send us Easter baskets. We would take over a Chanukah fruit basket, and they would send over Christmas presents. In other words, we had a mutual respect for the faith tradition of each other.

I took a course during my doctoral work with Dr. Charles Ashby on Biblical Education practices. As a part of our study outside the classroom, we attended the synagogue in Fort Worth one Friday evening. It was an eye-opening experience. One of the things that our professor told us was that most of the Jewish population doesn’t believe in an afterlife. That this is all there is – and that when you die, that’s all. Your legacy was found in your lineage, and the success of your children and grandchildren.

Well, I hadn’t had any personal experience with afterlife beliefs of the Jewish people, so I wasn’t sure that what Dr. Ashby was telling us was really accurate. Always question authority, especially when you’re a doctoral candidate, right? Well, I was back in Houston for a tour of duty in a church on the west side of town, and Mom called with the news that Ruth Shapiro had died. I was visiting Mom and Dad just the next week, and was out in the yard, and I noticed Dr. Ed out tooling around in his yard, and so I went over to express my condolences. I said something like, “Ed, I’m sure sorry about Ruth. We certainly loved her, and she was always to very good to us.” And he said, “Yes, it’s strange. A person’s here, and then they’re gone, and then that’s it.” Dr. Ashby’s words raced back into my mind – “no afterlife.”

When Jesus appeared to His disciples, things changed exponentially for them. Nothingness turned into eternity – with possibilities!! An afterlife – heaven – eternal life!! What a concept. All that they’d known was erased in a moment’s notice. There was something – an existence – after death!!!

Friends, I’ve asked myself this question all week. Does the resurrection matter? Does it matter for our salvation? It’s an important question. Do we have to believe in the resurrection in order to be saved? We tell people all the time, “All you have to do is trust Christ!” And by that, we mean that we must trust the sacrifice of Jesus, His death which paid the price for our redemption, in order to find salvation. But is belief in His resurrection necessary for salvation?

I looked this question up on the internet yesterday. I ran across a chart that lists the beliefs of various Christian denominations on a wide variety of subjects. Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Anglican, Methodist and Baptist beliefs were listed. When it got this question, do you know what was there? Every denomination listed their beliefs – except the Baptists. I was shocked. We have beliefs on everything. And Baptists are such a diverse group, sometimes we have multiple beliefs.

That being no help, I turned to the two best Baptist theologians I know – W.T. Connor and E.Y. Mullins. They’re the guys we studied in seminary.

Connor said it this way: “In the first place, one needs a clear understanding and a firm grasp on the elemental things in salvation. This is not to say that he needs to be an expert theologian. He does not. Nor is it to say with the Catholic creeds that, if he does not believe certain dogmas, he shall be anathema. But he does need a firm grasp on the fact that Christ has made full provision for our sins and that we are saved by faith in him. There can be no definite assurance of salvation where one does not definitely grasp this fact. Sometimes one may know that he has been changed without having a clear consciousness of salvation, but this clear consciousness of salvation will come when one firmly grasps the fact that it is faith in the crucified and risen Redeemer that saves.”[1]

That helped a little, but Connor sounded a little shaky to me. So I turned to his teacher, E.Y. Mullins. In speaking first of the resurrection of Christ, and then the general resurrection of all believers, Mullins said, “In other words, the resurrection was a religious necessity. God will not forsake his servant, even in death.”[2] That’s a little more blunt. Here’s his point – God accomplishes our salvation. In fact, God’s good name rests on God’s ability to do what God says God will do. God accomplishes our salvation, and God doesn’t do anything part way. So, when God redeems fallen humanity, God redeems us, not just for this life, but for all of eternity.

I’ll say this one other thing about the resurrection in a theological sense. If it isn’t a necessity that we believe in the resurrection in order to experience salvation, then at least, the resurrection, and our hope of eternal life – is the gravy to our redemption. Not only are we saved from our sins – redeemed – but we are saved into eternity.

I said that I’ve been asking this question this past week, but frankly, I’ve asked myself this question for the past year. Ever since Dad died last April, I’ve pined for contact with him. During May and June of last year, there were agonizing moments when I absolutely craved conversation with him. Those days gave way to an occasional need for contact, and finally to the random moments of panic and sadness. But I know something. I’m going to get to talk with my Dad again. Maybe soon, maybe years from now. But I have full assurance that I will see him again, and together we will worship the risen Lord side by side with all those whom I have loved who have gone ahead of me. Full assurance.

It’s a feeling, really. Friday night, when we left this place, we had been reminded of the price paid for our salvation. It was a good feeling, in a strange sort of way, to be reminded that our salvation was purchased – paid for – done and finished. But it was also something of an empty feeling. Then Sunday rolls around, and the stone is rolled away, and the risen Lord stands before us. Now it is finished. Now there’s something to look forward to. Now we have a hope of eternity. In His resurrection, we find the promise of our resurrection.

And that’s the gospel. That’s the good news.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] W.T.Connor, Christian Doctrine, 1937, p.221.
[2] E.Y.Mullins, The Christian Religion in its Doctrinal Expression, 1917, p.447

Just Like He Said It Would Be . . .

2006-04-09T10:02:00.000-07:00

Palm Sunday

Mark 11:1-11

(this sermon was drastically altered in presentation to Cornerstone on 9 April. It was presented as a first person monologue from one of the disciples. You should have been here to see it - there are some perks to actually attending church . . .)

Holy Week and Easter have arrived much sooner than I expected. It seems that just yesterday we were having our Christmas Eve service.

I suspect the same feeling came over Jesus when it came time for the Passover again – the one in which He knew He would give up His life for our redemption. It must have seemed like just yesterday when He was calling out to Simon Peter and Andrew and James and John to follow Him. Now, it was here.

It was time to make preparation. Jesus didn’t have to do this little parade – but His methodology was so descriptive of what He was about. A King, riding into town on the back of a young colt – crowds cheering Him – palm branches and Hosannas all around. It was a victory parade. He rode into town just like a conquering King would do. Only, what was His victory? Where were His armies? What had He conquered?

Mark goes out of his way to tell us this story. It’s unusually verbose – for Mark. Usually he’s the “cut to the chase” gospel writer. He’s the one that can tell an entire story in just a couple of verses. But he tells us the whole story.

Jesus arrives on the outskirts of town. He sends two disciples into town – only two – to check in at the Hertz counter and pick up the transportation. A colt – the foal of a donkey. He even told them that they might encounter a little opposition – “folks might stop you and wonder what you’re up to. And if they do, just tell them that ‘the Lord needs it, and He’ll get it back to you just as soon as He can.’” So, off they go, into town to find this colt. They find it. They get asked the questions. The questioners respond just the way they’re supposed to, and they return with the donkey. Just like Jesus said it would be . . .

This wasn’t an unusual thing for them – the Master saying something would be so, and then it was. It had happened dozens of times – maybe hundreds. And then there were the countless times when Jesus didn’t say anything ahead of time, but as the event would unfold, He acted as though it had been in His plan all along. Nothing ever seemed to surprise Him – nothing ever snuck up on Him.

This week would unfold much the same. There would be the run-in with the money changers in the temple. According to the gospel writers, if you add up their stories and put them in context, this wasn’t the only time Jesus would clean house in the temple.

Predictably, there would be another run-in with the Pharisees – they were always trying to trap Him, and they had quite a scheme cooked up for this week – joined forces with the Sadducees. They intended to trap Him – and so they did – or so they thought . . .

And predictably, Jesus did a little teaching. That really was His forte – the teaching. Only now, things had a more ominous tone – lots of talk about the harvest and heaven and end times. Jesus even throws in an observation about the widow and her two mites – just a couple of pennies.

There would be the Passover celebration in the upper room. Jesus was good about living out Jewish traditions. This wasn’t the first time they had done this together – but it would be their last. And this time He changed it – the boys in the band weren’t expecting that . . .

The rest of it was just the way He said it would be – again.

At some rather rudimentary level, I stand before you to offer testimony. That’s pretty much what Presnall Wood did for us a couple of weeks ago – he told us his story and told us what he thought about things – Baptists mostly. Well, I’m just another Christian telling my story – and my story is just like your story. Jesus hasn’t ever let me down. Even when I’m a little miffed at God, in my heart I don’t blame Jesus. He’s the one who died for me.

I watch way too much TV. Lately I’ve been seeing some comedians talk a lot about God and Jesus and religion. I’ve listened to their words, but I always try to listen beyond their words – to get a glimpse of their heart. Do you know what I’ve seen? They might pick on God, but when it comes to Jesus, they don’t have much to say that you and I would describe as “negative.” How could they – what has Jesus ever done to them, except give them some pretty good advice and then die for them? How can you fault someone like that?

When people talk about Jesus, I generally sit up and listen – just a little closer – to what they have to say. When Paul writes to the Philippians and describes the “Jesus story” in chapter 2, I sit up and take notice. I’ve heard a lot of sermons about this passage. Good sermons – some of them from seminary professors – and those guys can preach. I love this passage – “Let this mind be in you . . .”

“. . . which was also in Christ Jesus.” The first four verses tell the sacrifice part of the story – what Jesus gave up to purchase our redemption. The motion is downward – doesn’t sound anything like a victorious conqueror. He actually sounds more like a loser and a failure. Gave up everything to come here to live among us, and then He dies. Not much of a “success” story. Where’s the glory?

It’s in the next three verses. “Therefore God . . .” I always sit up and listen a little more closely when someone says, “Therefore, God . . .”

This part of the passage tells the “God exalted Him” part of the story. God is still exalting Jesus. So do we. Every time we gather in this place to tell the story of Jesus, we exalt Him. We should – He’s done so much for us, the least we can do is return our heartfelt offerings of praise as often as possible. The psalmist said, “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” He speaks of every day. We ought to return praise to God every day. We ought to thank Jesus every day.

Okay, pastor. Where are you headed with this? You’ve said quite a bit, but what’s your point?

It seems like such a small thing – retrieving a small colt for transportation into the city. Jesus certainly could have walked in – He’d done it before. He walked pretty much everywhere He went. But this entrance was different, and Jesus was going to make a point. He made a lot of points.

He made the point that He was worth paying attention to. This entrance was special because what He was getting ready to do was special. His sacrifice would change everything, and He wanted us to know it.

He made the point that praise is a worthy thing to offer to Jesus. They didn’t throw money or good deeds. They offered actions of praise and voices full of hope and promise and thanksgiving to God. It was a beautiful thing, what the people did that day.

But maybe more than anything else, He made the point that He knew what He was doing, and what He was doing was the thing that needed to be done. He knew what was going on, and He knew what He was doing. Jesus still knows what He’s doing.

It was just like He said it would be . . .

It still is . . .

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.