Archives for January 2020

Gospel study Matthew 5:1-12

January 30, 2020 by

Jesus wasn’t simply a great teacher, and if we try to describe him like that we will misunderstand him. These passages from Matthew are the beginning of the famous ‘Sermon on the Mount’, which runs through chapters 5,6,and 7, and sets out the main themes of Jesus’ proclamation. People often say what wonderful teaching the Sermon on the Mount is, and if only people would obey it the world would be a better place. But if we think of Jesus simply sitting there telling people how to behave properly, we will miss what is really going on. These ‘blessings’, the ‘wonderful news’ that he is announcing, are not saying ‘try to live like this.’ They are saying that people who already are like that should be happy and celebrate.

Jesus is not suggesting that these are simply truths about the way the world is, about human behavior. If he was saying that, he was wrong. Mourners often go uncomforted, the meek don’t inherit the earth, those who long for justice frequently take that longing to the grave. This is an upside-down world, and Jesus is saying that with his work it’s starting to come true. This is an announcement, not a philosophical analysis of the world. It’s about something that’s starting to happen, not about a general truth of life. It is gospel: good news, not good advice.

Follow me, Jesus said to his first disciples; because in him the living God was doing a new thing, and this list of ‘wonderful news’ is part of his invitation, part of his way of saying God is at work and that this is what it looks like. In our world, most people think that wonderful news consist of success, wealth, long life. Jesus is offering wonderful news for the humble, poor, mourners, peacemakers.

The word for ‘wonderful news’ is often translated ‘blessed’, and part of the point is that this is God’s wonderful news. God is acting in and through Jesus to turn the world upside down, to pour out ‘blessing’ on all who are now turned to him and see the new thing that he is doing.

So, when do these promises come true? There is a great temptation for Christians to answer: in heaven, after death. At first sight, verses 3,10, and 11 seem to say: ‘the kingdom of heaven’ belongs to the poor in spirit and the persecuted, and that there is a great reward ‘in heaven’ for those who suffer persecution for Jesus sake. This, though, is a misunderstanding of the meaning of ‘heaven’. Heaven is God’s space, where full reality exists, close by our earthly reality and interlocking with it. One day heaven and earth will be joined together forever, and the true state of affairs will be unveiled. After all, verse 5 says that the meek will inherit the earth, and that can hardly happen in a disembodied heaven after death.

The clue comes in the next chapter, in the prayer Jesus taught his followers. We are to pray that God’s kingdom will come, and God’s will be done, ‘on earth as it is in heaven’. The life of heaven – the life of the realm where God is already king – is to become the life of the world, transforming the present ‘earth’ into a place of beauty and delight that God always intended. And those who follow Jesus are to begin to live by his rule here and now. That’s the point of the Sermon on the Mount, and these ‘beatitudes’ in particular. They are a summons to live in the present in a way that will make sense in God’s promised future; because that future has arrived in the present in Jesus of Nazareth.

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Sermon – January 5, 2020

January 6, 2020 by

Sermon – January 5, 2020

          I have been becoming aware of a reality of an enjoyment that many people have in their lives, the realization that what they really enjoy is a good narrative, a good story. Not theology, not religious studies, not ancient history, not mysticism, not even literary theory. But, whatever the reason, the fact is we are deeply wired for story, in a way we are not similarly wired for these other things, as beautiful as they are. Story seems to be something that is almost primal within us, something we know and attach to. And we know every good story has something salvational  to say, one that draws us in with something of  our own person journeys, of our own struggles. It shows us how the meager, the unlikely, the oppressed, can conquer odds and come out on top. It inspires us that we too can overcome the challenges of environment and personal limitations, and discover a transforming light.

The Christmas light, the light of the incarnate Son, the fire that always remains burning beneath the heavy shroud of despair. The light shown in the darkness, John’s gospel says, and the darkness could not overcome it.

The great thing about a good story is not only does it tell us much about ourselves, but it invites us into a deeper way of life, a transforming way of our being in the world. And a story is of little value to us if we don’t accept that invitation.

One writing expert puts it this way,” a story is how what happens effects someone who is trying to achieve what turns out to be a difficult goal, and how he or she changes as a result. That’s what draws us in, that’s where the deep relevance comes from.”

The Christian story, the story of the incarnation we remember and celebrate in this season, has an incredibly transforming power, when we open up to the deep truth it conveys. Most important among these truths is that Christ, the divine Wisdom of God, must be born in each of us. Then, and only then, does the story come alive. It is on that ground that we move ourselves to living out our lives with Christ, or deny it has any real meaning in our lives. Either we become a meaningful part of the story, or remain mere spectators. It is there that the hope we long for and find within the story either ignites us to be fruitfully transformed, or becomes just another form of entertainment. And deep story is not about entertainment, or diversion.

If you look closely, much of the symbolism found in religious stories, not just in Christianity, is someway related to this one overarching pursuit. This one deeply human need of ours to find hope in the face of adversity. To be changed by that adversity, and to meet on the other side the warmth and illumination of the life-giving Son of God, when it seems the dark cold of winter, of despair, has taken hold.

Divine Wisdom has been speaking to us for a very, very long time, probably for longer than most would even imagine. The divine Wisdom, the Sophia as the ancients called it, has been speaking in every human culture, arguably, in every spiritual tradition from the very beginning.

If we even look at other non-Christian traditions, especially the far eastern and Native American traditions, the divine Wisdom of God quietly protrudes from some of their thinking.

John gives us a salvation story, a story of the redeeming light in this world, reminding us what our hearts and souls most long for.

What makes this Christian story so powerful and enduring is that it has seemingly always been there. Divine Wisdom has been telling this story from the beginning of creation. From the dawn of language itself. And that is a wonderous thing.

But in some sense, we still live in a darkened world. And we still need desperately the hope of the atoning light. We still long to huddle together against the frightful cold, at the gathering of Spirit, in the community, and hear a great redemptive story. That need is engraved in us deeply. And in that redemptive light, Christ is born again, Christ is born today truly, if you allow that birth to take place in your heart.

Maybe hearing the story once more, in whatever way it comes to us, hearing it one more time in the right light, hearing it together in the bonds of community will stir our hearts to true transformation. Maybe, just maybe. That’s my enduring hope.

Yes, it may be a fool’s hope. But Christ’s story tells us a fool’s hope wins in the end. And somehow in my bones I know it to be true. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God. And God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise. God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.

We already hold the story our hearts most long for. We have held it from the start.

The question is “what will we do with it?” How will we respond to the invitation that the story continually extends to us? It’s really not enough to be inspired for a moment or two. We have to take up our own part in the story.

As the gospels would have it, we have to take up our own cross, to be the one who endures the necessary trials, and then helps to restore the life- giving light to a darkened world.

Not only the great narrative we tell in this Christmas season, but the whole of creation models that way for us. It’s in the cycle of seasons, woven into the very fabric of our lives. Will we finally wake up and follow it?

Christ is born friends, Christ is born. May that birth, and the stories we tell of it, truly come alive in us.

 

Filed Under: Adult Ministry, Outreach & Mission

Gospel study John 1:1-18

January 6, 2020 by

Gospel study John 1:1-18

We have to first realize the prologue, which is the name we give to these first 18 verses of John’s gospel, was a first century writing. You have to understand how the images, vocabulary, the structure of the text, are reflecting some of those things that are going on in this first century world, as well as the conflicts.

The first 18 verses of John are a marvelously poetic text, with parallel phrases stacked up, with little catch phrases built in. Just like John’s whole gospel, there seems to be themes and then it wanders off into its own world, for instance when it begins,” In the beginning was the Word (Logos),” we would think that this phrase “the Word” would reoccur time after time in the text, but it doesn’t if that is what one would think is the key word of the text.

Then we also get the phrase grace upon grace. It may be a statement of God’s abundant grace, grace that never runs out but just keeps building upon itself (amazing grace), but in the Greek translation it says grace instead of grace, meaning Christ’s grace replaces the more Jewish notion of Moses’s grace, and Jesus grace is infinitely greater.

The prologue begins with the Logos and ends with Jesus explaining who the Father is , that Jesus is the revealer, that the Christian story is about a new revelation, a revelation in continuity with the old, but a revelation nonetheless. So, what is the content of this revelation. One of the great scholars of John’s gospel, Rudolph Bultman, finally said the content of the revelation was the revelation, that Christ reveals that he is the revealer, and to believe that Christ is the revealer is to believe that Christ reveals. There certainly is a lot more to it than that, but the first thing the Word incarnate does is reveal that he is the Word incarnate, and that life comes through belief in him, and that message comes through the gospel time after time after time.

The incarnation itself “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” brings about a host of ideas among different scholars. One is the thought that the prologue and the gospel of John itself seems to stress the God side of Jesus more than the human side. The ideas that God walks among us, that his glory shines through him, and in John’s gospel he seems to take the physical pain of the cross differently than in the other gospels. But he also has very human emotions, he weeps, he cares, he has friends, he gets angry, so most feel that this thought of a more God than man Jesus in John is overstated. But there certainly is no doubt, in the prologue as well as the rest of John’s gospel, we see another side of Jesus that is not in Matthew, Mark or Luke. There is something new here and the prologue certainly points that out.

The prologue also differs from the other gospels in that it starts with Jesus at the beginning of time and goes straight to him being a full- grown man without any between happenings as are in the other gospels, especially Matthew and Luke. And although there is the incarnation, there is no birth narrative in John.

More thoughts on the word used in the prologue, Logos. Some have thought this is deeply influenced by the Sophia (the word for the Wisdom of God), and that John has this as his background, that this creative power was with God from the beginning and provides the blueprint by which God creates the world, and the miracle in Jesus is that divine wisdom is now among us. The problem that John has is that John knows this incarnate person is not female incarnate wisdom (Sophia), but male incarnate, so John has to find a good male noun to get across the same idea, so the term Logos.

John is certainly bound by the story of Jesus life, all the way through the death and resurrection, so he makes his thoughts and ideas work within the narrative. But John nevertheless has a very independent view of the story of Christ. The prevailing wisdom is that John probably knows the other gospel texts of  Mark and Luke, but feels in no way bound by them, that he is free to take his own perspective of the story.

And in the phrase “In the beginning was the Word,” we of course look back to the creation. The thoughts and will of God was always accomplished by his Word. He spoke creation into existence, he worked his signs and wonders, he raised Lazareth from the dead, all with words. The very being of God was the Word.

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Christmas Eve 2019 Sermon

January 6, 2020 by

CHRISTMAS EVE SERMON…

          How did the one who spoke creation into being, get caught up in the small town drama of a pregnant teen who sees angels. How did the God who brought the stars and the planets and all the heavenly bodies into existence become enclosed in the cramp, dark space of the virgins womb.

I can’t explain this, I doubt you can either. Christmas provides us with more questions than answers. Christmas leaves us sort of confused, at a loss, in awe and wonder, clinging desperately to whatever faith gives us eyes to see God in that manger. Christmas means to leave us pondering all these things in our hearts.

So, Christmas is of course mysterious. It is, after all, God wrapped in a manger, God much, much too small. But also, Christmas is teaching me to believe, teaching me to believe in the power of small lights. The vastness of this moment really deserved a big bang, but the Holy birth in this empire, this huge Roman empire of Augustus, the empire that caused the peoples to tremble, this birth was announced to only a few lonely shepherds. The angelic lights that filled the Bethlehem sky did not alert the masses, did not reach the Roman palaces. To even call it a blip on the worlds radar screen is probably a stretch.  This baby dropped not only into a huge empire, but also into God’s story of our salvation. The waiting of centuries for the Messiah demanded a divine spectacle. While the rulers of this empire neither expected or demanded a Messiah, others did. The people who had been walking in darkness had been promised a great light. They knew the ancient stories, they told them to their children and to their children’s children. Those stories reminded them that their God did big things. Their God divided the light from the darkness, their God split the Red Sea so they could walk to dry land, their God closed lions mouths, and carried prophets away in chariots of fire, and caused the sun to stand still in the sky. Their God did big things. They expected a great light. They were waiting for something big.

And into an immense world, against a sea of darkness, onto this grand cosmic stage, came one tiny flame. God’s big move was a baby, a small helpless child. Every year, on the buildup to Christmas, I wait for something big, but every year its just a baby, surrounded by the same peasant family, adored by the same meager audience.

It is as if this God who spoke light into being, who breathed the fire of a thousand suns, suddenly realized there was only one way to dispel the darkness. Start with one tiny flame. One tiny flame ignited into the mysterious darkness of

God’s imagination. One tiny flame ignited into the darkness of Mary’s womb. One tiny flame ignited into the little town of Bethlehem, a speck of a village in a great big world. One tiny flame might ignite the darkness of our hearts.

Christmas is teaching me to believe in the power of small lights.

It was a humble beginning. I suppose the Messiah was not born in a palace because there is no kindling material in a palace. The tiny flame needed a manger, the fire was set in straw.

It is said that the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. That is because Christmas did not stay in Bethlehem. That tiny flame, no king could put it out, no army could snuff it out, no darkness was dark enough to hide it.

And so, it spread. That tiny flame, that tiny Jesus, was sent by God to blaze. That tiny flame was meant to set this world on fire, to burn in our hearts. People who walked in darkness have seen a great light because the fire spread, because the light of Christ still burns, it burns in you and it burns in me.

Christmas is teaching me to believe in the power of small lights. I look around this room and I see tiny flames. Each heart ablaze with the light of Christ. I see tiny flames that have the power to light up the dark corners of this world. I see tiny flames in a world of kindling.

But also, when I look around this room, I see a great light. Because if I squint just a little bit, all of those tiny flames become a blazing fire.

Christmas was just the beginning of something big. It started small, as small as a spark in the darkness of a virgin’s womb. As small as a peasant baby in a vast empire. As small as a flame in a bed of straw.

But here we are, 2000 years beyond the manger scene, and we are still burning. Call us the light of the world. Jesus did.

Every Christmas I gaze into the manger waiting for something big. But its always that tiny baby. Only if I look closely, I really look, I see a spark in his eyes. The fire he set, reflecting in his heavenly face.

I can’t explain this, why Christmas was so small. I just know Christmas is teaching me to believe in the power of small lights. And in a God who started a blazing fire with one tiny flame.

Filed Under: Adult Ministry, Outreach & Mission

December 22, 2019 Sermon

January 6, 2020 by

Sunday, December 22…

In our Gospel today, we are invited to read the Christmas story through the lens of envy, wanting what you don’t have, and jealousy, to keep what you do have.

Joseph isn’t center stage in the Christmas story. Well may he feel jealous and envious. If you and I may be able to conger up envy in our lives, how much more Joseph when he’s up against the Holy Spirit.

I want you to look at what he does, because I think it gives us clues, jealous and envious as we are, to how we should model our lives on his. Matthew gives us the basics of the story without any sentiment. “When Mary had become engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.” Now an unexpected pregnancy is a deeply confusing thing today, as well as back then, it opens the door to a whole bunch of things that occupy the imagination, but about which it is difficult to talk about with anyone. It invades into a host of things, those who want to be pregnant but aren’t, and those whose rush to judgement masks a complex history of their own.

But add to that the husband is quite sure he is not the father of the child. And that the historic penalty for adultery was death by stoning. This is a social catastrophe on a grand scale. No one has a clue what to say.

When we look at this story from Mary’s point of view its terrifying, to think of a teenage girl in a world that focuses so much of its fascination and anger on sexual transgression. Surly, its not fair or reasonable to make a young girl the focus of a society’s fury.

But I would now like to focus on Joseph, to see through Joseph’s eyes. I want to look at Joseph’s response to Mary’s startling news.

The first thing Matthew tells us is that Joseph is a righteous man. In other words, Joseph was a keeper of the law. Anyone who has a concern for justice has to have a lot of sympathy for Joseph, he has done the right thing. He’s gone through a formal betrothal. He’s waited for this girl in her early teens to grow a year older. He’s preparing for when she will come to be his wife. We talk a lot about justice in our society. But this is an illustration of where being just does not come close to dealing with the real problem. Justice suggests the young girl should be exposed and humiliated. That’s what the law says. Justice says Joseph should be freed from any blame and maybe get reimbursed for all his trouble.

But what if Joseph loves Mary? What if he wanted her to be the love of his life? What if he did not stop loving Mary despite what had happened. No money or public humiliation could give him what he really wanted. What he wanted was her. Justice is an important word in our society, but I wonder if in our striving for it, we are getting what we really want.

So, Joseph seeks another course. Matthew says Joseph was unwilling to have Mary go through public disgrace. He planned to dismiss her quietly. I don’t think we should underestimate the tortured human emotions buried in this simple description. We would have trouble shouldering the sin of someone else. This is the hidden, unrewarded part of love. Joseph shoulders the social shame himself, and looks like a fool, even though he has done absolutely nothing wrong. So, Joseph seeks mercy. For Joseph, mercy outweighs justice. When you see a person facing public disgrace, does your heart jump to justice or mercy? Do you think it’s about time those scoundrels got their due? I wonder sometimes if the church has got so caught up in righteousness and justice, we have forgotten what Joseph shows us so vividly, that mercy outweighs justice. The truth is if any of our lives were exposed to public scrutiny, we would be up for humiliation and disgrace. We would be begging for mercy and understanding. If only we practiced the mercy we beg for.

And now Joseph sleeps. And Joseph dreams. And Joseph trusts his dreams. In this dream the angel of the Lord tells him who the father of Mary’s baby is, and what one day this child will be and do.

Don’t lose the human part of the story. Joseph has to rethink everything he thought was normal. Its not like regular life is ever going to return for him. He will never be a father, always a godfather to this child. And this is the crucial moment in the story for Joseph. This is the crucial moment in the story for us. This is the moment we decide whether we are going to be a righteous person, a person of justice and perhaps even of mercy, or whether we are actually going to be a Christian. Now is when Joseph chooses which story he is going to be in.

The jealousy story goes like this. I want to be the one and only person in Mary’s life, and whoever is at the root of this I’m going to get them.

The justice story goes like this. I shouldn’t have to pay for other peoples’ mistakes, so this time I’m going to make someone else pay.

The mercy story goes like this. We all make mistakes, and I care deeply about Mary and I got nothing to gain from making a public spectacle of her. So, let’s just bring this to an end as gently and generously as we can.

But there is another story. It’s called the grace story. It goes beyond justice and beyond mercy. It goes like this.  I have realized that I never was the main character in the story. This was always a story about how God was being present and saving his people. It’s just that I never realized it till now. It’s amazing, I get to be the godfather to this child whose father is God.

I know my life will never be normal again. I know no one will fully understand my side of this story. I know Mary is one of the most special people there ever was, and I will always feel small beside her. But I want to live a life open to God’s Spirit. I want to live a life that’s always ready to be turned upside down. I want to be a person who others will point to and say, “that’s what grace can do.”

Joseph chose the grace story. The rest of the story is what we call the Gospel.

We all get to chose which story we are going to be in.

Which story will be your story? Will it be envy and jealousy, that want to have what others have and keep tight hold of what you have?

Will it be righteousness and justice, which you do the proper thing even if its not going to give you what you deep down really want and need.

Will it be mercy, taking on the sins of others and recognizing the fragile humanity in us all.

Or will it possibly be grace? Grace that lets God take over your story. Grace that makes you realize that you were always a small part in a story that was truly about God. Grace that melts envy and heals jealousy. And transcends justice and exudes mercy. Grace that turns your whole life into worship of the God revealed in Jesus.

Filed Under: Outreach & Mission, Worship