God's Love is Unfair: March 31, 2019

Year C, Lent 4                                                        

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32                                                                 

            As some of you know, I have three older brothers; the oldest being 13 years older.  When he was in his late 20’s, he wrote a book that featured three brothers and a father who was in the Navy.  It bore some remarkable similarities to his life.  However, when I read it I was a little perturbed that there was no sister.  He just left me out completely.  I mentioned something to my brother about this and he replied, “This is a book about redemption, you don’t need redemption.” He was alluding to the fact that he and my other brothers were kind of wild children and teenagers.  I was not.  Also he was writing about himself as a high school student, which was when I was about 4 years old.  I was not satisfied with that answer.  It seemed to me, that I was being punished for being good.  What he did not realize was that I would get back at him by featuring him in sermons years later. 

            This Gospel reading is often referred to as The Prodigal Son.  The word prodigal is nowhere in the text. It has been assigned to the text because it describes a wasteful or reckless extravagance. Yet the way the father describes the younger son is lost, which is a far better description.  Additionally, it is not merely the story of one lost son.  It is the story of two sons who are lost.  One is lost in a distant country.  The other is lost in his own home, with his own family. 

            It might not seem so horrible to us that the younger son asked for his inheritance while his father was still alive.  However in this time period, that would have been considered the ultimate insult because it is basically saying to the father, “You are dead to me.”  In asking for his inheritance early, he cut himself off from his entire family.  To make things worse, he wasted that money on self-indulgent living.  He is not a likable character, not the kind of underdog you want to root for. He only returns when he runs out of money and is on the brink of starvation.  He’s kind of a jerk. 

            The other son isn’t particularly likeable either.  He is jealous and resentful.  While his brother is a jerk, you would assume that the elder brother would be at least a little happy to have his brother back safe and sound.  While the elder brother is not likeable, I think he is a little more relatable for most of us.  I imagine that most of us have had some experience where we have witnessed someone else being celebrated or rewarded when it was clear to us that they in no way deserved to be celebrated or rewarded.  It’s not fair.  I think there are few things that are more disconcerting to your average human than when we witness something that is unfair.  Despite the fact that most adults know life is not fair, we still feel the need to make it be fair.  And even if we know that life is not fair, we at least want God, the almighty, all knowing God, to be fair.  And why would an all knowing, almighty God, reward a son who wished his father dead, took his money and then came back when he needed him? 
            Why? Because there is nothing fair about God’s unconditional, unrelenting love.  When that unfair love is directed to us, it doesn’t seem to bother us that it is unfair.  Let’s consider this elder son.  It’s true that he was the good son.  He stayed with his family and did his work, but he also had servants.  It is clear from the text that his father was wealthy and generous.  He was able to provide for his sons in ways that other people could not.  His father was also clearly compassionate, forgiving and loving.  He was a good father.  He was the kind of father who ran out too meet his disrespectful and ungrateful son and pronounce forgiveness before forgiveness was even asked.  Do we really think the elder son ever lamented the unfairness of having a life like he had, having a family like he had when so many had nothing compared to him?  I doubt it.  Because he felt that was what he deserved. He was entitled to that kind of life. 

            He was lost, not because he had chosen to escape to another land, but because he chose resentment over gratitude, because he chose to lament the unfairness of a father who loved his brother too much instead of thanking God for a father who loved him with an unrelenting and all powerful love.  When we think of this parable, we can probably all see in our minds eye the father who runs out to meet his foolish and selfish son who treated him like he was dead.  It is a dramatic and compelling scene. But how many of us picture the father who then seeks out his bitter and unforgiving son and begs him to come inside; who reminds his petulant child that while he might not have rewarded him with a fatted calf, it didn’t matter because everything he owned, was already his. The father didn’t have to reward him with the fatted calf, because the elder son owned the fatted calf. God has already given us everything we need.

            When I was working on this sermon, I thought a lot about my own privilege and the truth is that most of are born into privilege, just by being born as an American. Most of us have guaranteed access to free education and clean water.  We take these things for granted even though there are many in our world (and some in our nation) who do not have these privileges.  But in the end, that is not what this story is about.  It is a story about something else we often take for granted--God’s grace. No matter where we are born or who we are born to, we all are born as children of God, beloved by God. 

Every day and every hour, we make a choice. We can either be grateful for this amazing gift, this amazing grace, or we can be resentful for the ways that life has cheated us, or what we do not have.  That was the sin of the elder son.  He could not be content or thankful for what he had because of his bitterness about what his own brother was receiving. 

It is hard to let go of resentment.  But there is a way.  Embrace gratitude.  You cannot be grateful and resentful at the same time. Thus when you find yourself growing bitter over some perceived unfairness, remember the gift that you have, the gift that God has given you.  Everyone gets lost at some point in their life.  Each one of us has a story of redemption. Part of what the season of Lent is about is admitting that we are all lost and then making the choice to be found. God is looking for you. God is that father who is staring into the distance, waiting for us each one of us to return to him. Embrace gratitude.  Choose gratitude. Because God has already chosen and embraced each one of us.

Footnote: If you are interested in this subject, I encourage you to read "The Return of the Prodigal Son" by Henri Nouwen. It is inspired and helped me a great deal on this sermon. 

Look at the Stars: March 17, 2019

Year C, Lent 2                                                                         

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18                                                                     

            I started the ordination process when I was 26.  I had just finished my 3^rd year in seminary, so things were a little backwards for me.  Typically you enter the ordination process before going to seminary. Therefore, when they told me ordination was probably 2 years out (and that was only because the Bishop was supporting an expedited process), that seemed like forever.  It wasn’t-- but at age 26, it felt like forever.   People kept telling me to be patient and that, “God’s time is not your time.”  That was really annoying…because what can you possibly say to that when the vocation you are pursuing is one  that expects that not only will you trust God, but also talk to other people about the importance of trusting God?  I was told by a mentor that I needed to be careful that I never gave the impression (to anyone in authority) that I was in a hurry and certainly that I should not complain to anyone about how long it was taking. That turned out to be very good advice.      

            Thankfully God doesn’t have the same rules about complaining.  Because if God did, Abraham would never have become the father of a nation and one of the fathers of our faith. Then again, he had more to complain about than I did.  God had picked Abraham out of obscurity to be a leader.  He had promised Abraham, that if he obeyed him, he would be given land and children.   The piece about children was extra important to Abraham because by the time God called him, his wife Sarah was already considered barren, which means they were a bit on the older side.  Despite their inability to conceive, God had promised Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the dust of the earth. Yet by the time we get to our reading for today, decades have passed since that initial promise---Abraham had done everything that God had asked of him--- and he and his wife were still childless. 

            Thus, when God came to him and declared, “Do not be afraid…I am your shield; your reward shall be very great”---Abraham’s response was a little exasperated.  Now, obviously, I wasn’t there, but I imagine Abraham reacting a bit like this:.

         He essentially said, “You haven’t even come through on the first promise you gave me.  I want a child!” God’s response is interesting.  God didn’t say, “Look, your time isn’t the same as my time.  You need to be patient.” He said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.  So shall your descendants be.” He didn’t defend his promise or the lack of progress on that promise.  He expanded the promise.  He said to Abraham, this is bigger than you can possibly imagine.  Forget the whole dust of the earth analogy I used before, now I want you to imagine the stars of the sky.  That is how vast your progeny will be. 

And you know what, that was all it took for Abraham.  He believed.  He still had some complaining to do---but he believed.  Minutes later when God again promised him acquisition of land, Abraham asked him to give him some proof.  It’s not that Abraham didn’t believe God’s promise. He did.  But he needed something tangible.

            That’s when things get a little weird in our reading.  God asked Abraham for some animals that could be sacrificed.  He asked Abraham to cut the animals in two and then Abraham fell asleep.  When it was night, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the two halves of each animal.  After the smoking pot and flaming torch passed between the sacrificed animals, the Lord made his covenant with Abraham.  Really, he affirmed the covenant that he had already made.

            Let me break down the imagery of the smoking fire pot and flaming torch.  First of all the Hebrew word translated to covenant means, “to cut.” Thus, cutting the animals in half symbolized creating/cutting the covenant.  In this scene, the smoking pot and flaming torch symbolized the Lord and by passing through the cut animals, the Lord was showing Abraham that he was the one making the promise.   By passing through these dead animals, God was deepening the promise by making it about life and death.  One commentator (Rolf Jacobson) described this by giving God these words: “I pledge my very life as surety of this promise.  If I fail to keep this promise, let me be slain just as the goat, the sheep and the ram were slain.”[1]  It’s hard to get more tangible than that.

            Here’s the thing about God.  God always keeps his promises.  Sometimes it takes a little longer than we would hope.  It would be many more years before Sarah would conceive her first born.  And it would be even more years before God would make that ultimate sacrifice that he predicted that night with Abraham—sacrificing himself. 

We are in the season of Lent.  Every Sunday, Jesus comes a little closer to his death. While God did keep his promise with Abraham, God’s people did not hold up our end of the deal. We still could not commit to a relationship with God.   But God never breaks promises and God never gives up on his children.  His love is so deep and so wide, that God will do anything to redeem that love, even if it means dying on the cross.  So despite the fact that God did not break his promise, God decided that the only way we could see his love was by sacrificing himself. 

            It’s ok to complain to God.  Because if you are complaining, that means you are still talking.  If you are still talking, that means that you still have hope.  And as long you maintain that sliver of hope, God will find a way to break through and show you how deep and wide his love for you is.  When God told Abraham to look at the sky and try to count the stars, he wasn’t just reminding him of the number of ancestors he would have.  He was encouraging him to look outside of himself.  So often, we can get caught up in our own worries (or the worries of those closest to us) that we forget to open our eyes wide enough to see the evidence of God’s love that is all around us. 

During Lent we emphasize the importance of inner reflection and examination.  That is important.  But sometimes when we are doing that internal reflection, we are just talking to ourselves instead of talking to God, or more importantly, listening to God.  God’s love is deep and wide. It lives within us and beyond us.  If for some reason, you can’t feel God within you, look outside.  Maybe, do something trite like watching the sun set over the water or gaze at the stars on a clear night or listen to a particularly powerful piece of music or maybe just take a deep breath and remember how lucky you are to be breathing when for so many, breathing is agony.  Then when you have that experience, send me an e-mail or give me a call because I need reminders of God’s majesty and love as much as each of you.  Hopefully, that is what we are for one another in the church, evidence of God’s love, a love that will never give up.

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[1] Rolf Jacobson from Working Preacher: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4001

Blaze of Glory: March 3, 2019

Year C, Transfiguration                                                       

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2                                                            

                       

            What would you do if you knew that you could not fail?  It’s an interesting question to ponder. There are some people who live like that.  They try anything.  They have no fear.  Sometimes that translates into recklessness, sometimes not.  Then there are those people who are scared, but they do it anyways because something or someone is supporting them, providing confidence and hope.  Jesus lived this way (as though he could not fail) and so did Paul and the other disciples.  Paul and the disciples were not reckless, although I am sure that some people around them thought they were.  They had confidence not because of displaced sense of self-importance but because they believed that God was in their corner.   

            The section that we heard from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is a bit tricky.  If it seemed a little confusing to you, you are in good company.  Paul was referencing the story of Moses.  When Moses encountered God in the Old Testament, God’s glory was so bright, that Moses’ face would glow. Then he would have to veil his face because God’s glory would actually scare people.  He had to protect people from God’s glory. 

            Paul was explaining to the Corinthians that everything changed when Jesus came, because God’s glory came to us in human form.  Even though Jesus died and his body left this earth, his glory remains, in the people of God.  We no longer have to fear God’s glory because humans are able to take on that glory.

            We do not talk a lot about God’s glory because it seems inaccessible—just out there.  However, the point that Paul was trying to make was that it is accessible. Jesus made it accessible.  If we turn to God, not only can we glimpse God’s glory, we can become a part of it.  We can be participants in God’s glory.  Paul wrote, “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree to another, for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”    

            If you look at the front of our bulletin, you will see that our mission statement is “to live in the Spirit of Christ.”  To some that might seem abstract and there is certainly room for interpretation.  If we read the mission statement in light of Paul’s words, then living in the Spirit of Christ means that we are being transformed into God’s glorious image from one degree of glory to another. It means that we can live without fear of failure because we have God’s Spirit.  Living without fear of failure doesn’t mean that we don’t ever fail.  In fact, it means that we will probably fail more often. It also means that we will have more opportunities to be the people who God calls us to be, to truly embody the glory of God. 

            Now I have to admit, that I am not really good at casting off fear and living boldly.  I am cautious.  (I have had some variation of the same hair style since I was in 5^th grade.) But I am not the only cautious one in our church.  Christians have become complacent over the last several hundred years.  We got comfortable in the 20^th century.  We became accustomed to being the majority.  We got used to sitting in places of power.  And once you have that comfortable position, well it’s harder to take risks.  We have more to lose. 

            The early church was full of risk.  We might say, well it was easier because they had less to lose.  While they did not have the reputation of the established church to worry about, they certainly had a lot to lose.  Paul was an important person in the Jewish faith.  He had authority.  He was also a Roman citizen, which meant he was well respected and a little more comfortable than the average Jew.  He gave that all up, so that he could walk hundreds of miles and talk to people about Jesus---so he could be beaten and imprisoned—so he could be mocked and criticized—so he could be the greatest evangelist who ever lived. 

            The first line of our reading for today is, “Since, then, we have such hope, we act with great boldness.”  When Paul said that we act with boldness, he was referencing not his own self confidence and valor, but the boldness that comes with freedom.  The origin of his freedom was the Spirit of the Lord.  It was the Spirit of the Lord that gave him the freedom to live as though he had no fear, to live boldly and to never lose heart. That Spirit of the Lord resides with all of us—gives us all the freedom to live boldly.      

            So forget that question I started with: What would you do if you knew you could not fail?  The better question is: What would do if you knew that failure was a part of our Christian journey and that failure was a part of bold action?  We don’t risk failing so that we can achieve glory, we take risks because we already share in God’s glory.  Every time we act with boldness in our life as Christians---we do so with the Spirit of God within us. By acting boldly, we come closer to the people who God calls us to be. 

            Being bold and taking risks is not easy.  I know that.  Yet I am convinced that our church needs boldness.  We need to take risks if we want to continue transforming from one degree of glory to the other.  If we are able to partake in these risks together, then we can be there for one another when we do fail and rejoice with one another when we succeed.

            There are a lot of people out there who will tell you that the church is dying.  I do not believe that.  However, if we continue on our current trajectory, the denominational churches won’t last the next 100 years. That makes me sad, because I think there are a lot of churches (St. John’s being one of them) that are worth saving.  If there ever was a time to be bold in our churches, it is now.  If there ever was a time to take risks, it is now. I believe that if we are bold in our faith and embody the glory of God, we will survive and thrive.  But if I am wrong…and the church doesn’t survive, wouldn’t you rather go out in a blaze of glory?  We have  been “fighten sin since 1610” but maybe it’s time to stop fighting against something and start fighting for something, fighting for transformation and God’s glory.  Will you fight with me?