Sermon for Second Sunday after the Epiphany, "Filled: To the Brim"

Sermon 1/17/10, John 2:1-11, 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Filled: To the Brim

You might have noticed that last week and this week our sermons have had the theme of: filled. We’ll continue on with that for the next couple of weeks as well, and I chose this focus because I suddenly noticed, as I was preparing my preaching schedule, that the gospel lessons for several weeks in a row contained the word “filled.” And I think “filled” is a perfect word to describe how God wants our lives to be. My very favorite Bible verse is from John 10:10b – “I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly.” Jesus is all about giving us life – but not just any life. Full life. Abundant life. We live in a culture that is so full – of sounds and sights, of must-haves, of things an stuff – and yet people feel amazingly empty, always trying to fill up with the wrong things. The message of Jesus, though, is pretty clear. God is supposed to be the one filling us.

Things certainly have seemed quite full to me this week, as I prepared for worship today. On Tuesday, the world heard of a devastating earthquake in Haiti, and the news from the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere just seems to get worse as the number of casualties climbs. And yet, there are stories, too, of amazing hope and sacrifice, stories of people singing in the streets, hymns and Halleluiahs. We mourn the passing of one of our church members, Emily Brundidge, who died this week. My mind is with my mother, as she continues to heal from her ankle fusion surgery. Tomorrow I meet with a group of Presbyterian youth, who will be travelling to visit the United Nations next month in New York City. Yesterday I met with Communicators from four United Methodist conferences, to plan for our merger in July. Today you received the first formal announcement of our Annual Meeting, which take place two weeks from today. Things are feeling pretty filled up. No doubt a quick review of your week would bring up similar results.

And our themes in worship are full too – today we celebrate the work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., as we consider his work for racial justice. And beyond that special designation, our scripture lessons have weight and fullness in their own right today. Our reading from the epistle to the Corinthians talks about spiritual gifts, the variety of ways in which God gives to us unique qualities which enable us to serve and to help one another in faith. Our gospel lesson talks about Jesus changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana. Both these texts offer so many possibilities, but I keep returning to that word – filled. We are indeed filled to the brim, with our lives, with our need for God, with directions God can lead us in worship today. Where do we begin?

First things first. Jesus' changing the water into wine is generally considered his 'first' miracle recorded in the gospels. Well, it may be his first miracle, but other than chronological uniqueness, it doesn't seem to me particularly remarkable. Don't get me wrong - I haven't mastered changing water into wine just yet. It's more that the type of miracle Jesus chooses as his first public display of God-given powers seems a bit odd in choice. How does this miracle really help anyone? It saves the host of a wedding reception a bit of embarrassment from running out of wine, true. But no one is healed, no one's leprosy vanishes. No one's sight is restored. No raging storms are calmed. It doesn’t seem to be a life-changing event. Jesus simply changes water into wine, enabling a party to continue on for more hours, and boosting the host's status in the eyes of the guests who are impressed with the new wine's quality. What a strange way to make his mark in the world of miracles!

So if the particulars are not so impressive, as far as miracles go, anyway, what's so special about this event? Why is this the first? Why bother to include it in the stories of Jesus, when there are so many other things we wish we could know about the life of this Christ? Chances are, as usual, there's something more than meets the eye. We read that Jesus used 6 jars that were used for purification rites, 20-30 gallon jars, about the size of our street-side garbage cans. These jars he ordered "filled to the brim" by the stewards - you can just picture them, almost ready to spill over from fullness, like the commercial images of soda at fast-food restaurants, appealing in their abundance. Jesus changed these water jars into jars of wine. And when another tasted the wine, he called the groom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."

For me, these empty vessels represent our own lives - we are these jars, creations of God, ready to be filled up. Often we try to fill ourselves up with things we desire, things we think will bring us meaning. But others aren't fooled, realizing inferior wine, so to speak, when they see it. But God offers to fill us up, and to the very brim - first with the waters that would cleanse and purify us, as we remembered last Sunday, but then with the good wine, the best-for-last wine, the filled-to-the-brim-its-so-good wine that causes others to remark about our quality - that something-special substance in us. We can choose: the watered-down life of our own design, or the abundant brim-filled life that God offers.

Our quick response is to say that of course we want the full version - we want the real thing, we want to have the best wine to fill our vessels. But unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. If we don't want the watered-down version of possibilities for our lives, it also means we can't accept watered down versions of who God is, who Jesus is, or how Jesus calls us to live. Too often we want to skirt the issues Jesus confronts us with by watering them down, turning Jesus into a nice man with great ideals but not much realism about how to get along in the world. When he warns us about money we think he's exaggerating, when he tells us to drop everything and follow him, we're sure he forgot to take our jobs and our families into consideration. When he talks about loving neighbors, we are sure he wouldn’t have said it if he’s met our neighbors. When he tells us to turn the other cheek, we're convinced he never had a good look at the size of our opponent. When he asks us not to judge others, we can't help but point out anyway a few who don't meet God's standards, and when he talks about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick, we're finally sure he's speaking metaphorically and not literally. We have to ask ourselves: are we ready for the good wine? Do we really want to be filled to the brim with such potent stuff? Isn't the watered down version actually a little easier to swallow?

On this special Sunday, we celebrate the birthday – and life – of Martin Luther King, Jr. Just as we often try to 'water down' the message of Jesus, we have also tried to water down the message of this radical man as well, making him more acceptable to our ears and our consciences. In recent years, for instance, clips of King have been used in commercials for the YMCA, for soda companies, insurance companies, Apple computers, a communications company, and even Cingular cell phone company, to promote their products. Is this his legacy? The poet Carl Wendell Himes, Jr., aptly and eloquently put into words this dilemma of watering down, writing: "Now that he is safely dead / Let us praise him / build monuments to his glory / sing hosannas to his name. / Dead men make / such convenient heroes: They cannot rise / to challenge the images / we would fashion from their lives. / And besides, / it is easier to build monuments / than to make a better world." (1)

Civil Rights activist Vincent Harding speaks similarly, "We must reclaim Martin precisely because the times demand it. As the bombs fall, as the poor cry out in greater numbers, as the earth convulses beneath the weight of global economic power, we must attend to the words and the life of this prophet among us. If we are content with little more than a vision of Black and White children holding hands . . . If we settle for a tamed version of Martin King as a moderate integrationist, we will fall prey to cynicism and despair, and we'll lack the imagination and social inventiveness necessary in genuine social struggle." (2) If you really examine the life and work of Martin Luther King, Jr., you hardly find someone who everyone liked, someone who everyone agreed with, who didn't ruffle any feathers. He talked the talk, and walked the walk. His dream wasn't just words for the future - it was a plan of action he followed right then. He wrote, "I choose to identify with the underprivileged. I choose to identify with the poor. I choose to give my life for the hungry. I choose to give my life for those who have been left out of the sunlight of opportunity. I choose to live for and with those who find themselves seeing life as a long and desolate corridor with no exit sign. This is the way I'm going. If it means suffering a little bit, I'm going that way. If it means sacrificing, I'm going that way. If it means dying for them, I'm going that way, because I heard a voice saying, 'Do something for others.'" (1)

On this day that we read about Christ changing water into wine, and on this day that we remember the man Martin Luther King, Jr., let us not settle for something less than the gospel demands of us. Let us not reduce the gospel to a gift book of cute phrases to live by - perhaps another collection of heart-warming Chicken Soup for the Soul stories. Jesus’ teachings are so much more than that - they demand much more of us, and they reward us much more deeply, in more long-lasting ways. If we allow it, God fills us with good wine – Paul's letter to the Corinthians talks about the contents of our vessels - the gifts that each of us has, of wisdom, knowledge, prophecy, healing, faith, and much more. What's next is to pour ourselves out for others, pour ourselves out in service and sacrifice, pour ourselves out with boldness, knowing that God is filling us up as fast as we’re pouring ourselves out. The choice is ours: water or wine, empty, or filled to the brim, cheap substitutes, or the demanding and rewarding gospel of Jesus Christ. Do you want to be filled? Amen.

(1) As quoted by Vincent Harding, in The Other Side, http://www.theotherside.org/archive/jan-feb03/harding_print.html

(2) Vincent Harding, in The Other Side, http://www.theotherside.org/archive/jan-feb03/harding_print.html

Sermon for Second Sunday after the Epiphany

(Sermon 1/18/09, 1 Samuel 3:1-10, Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18, John 1:43-51)

New Beginnings: Hide & Seek

Sometimes people say that they’re the kind of person who just can’t say no. People ask them to do something, to perform some task, do some favor, sign up for some responsibility, and though the person asked really doesn’t want to, they find themselves unable to say no. I can relate to this. I understand how easy it is to become overwhelmed by tasks and responsibilities and how easy it is to feel the pressure to say yes to something that we really would rather not do, that we don’t have the time, the energy, the passion required to do. It’s hard to set boundaries for ourselves, to set limits, and find balance, in a world that increasingly wants us to be constantly available to do, do, do. That’s a real issue for us to consider.

And yet, on the other hand, I’m afraid that sometimes we can use our working-on-saying-no to escape from saying yes when we’re too afraid of what we’re being asked to do, or not ready to give so much, or not ready to step out on faith, or not ready to answer a calling. I can think of times in my life when I said no to something not really because I had too much on my plate already, but because of some deeper excuse I wasn’t ready to name out loud: Fear, doubt, pride, wanting to be in control. We can surely think of times when we said yes to something when we really wanted to say no. But can you think of times when you said no but should have said yes?

You may have seen ads for or seen the recent Jim Carrey movie called “Yes Man.” The movie is actually based on a book by author Danny Wallace, same title, which describes Wallace’s actual real-life attempts at becoming a person who says yes to new opportunities, yes to crazy propositions, yes to experiences and happenings he’d otherwise rather refuse. Wallace talks about how transformed his life is when he starts to say yes instead of no. What if we said yes? Of course, there’s always a need for balance, for discretion, for good judgment. We can’t really say yes to everything that’s asked of us, or our lives will be like Jim Carrey movies, and I don’t think we want that!

But still, there’s one way in which we should always say yes, and never say no, at least as far as I can figure out, and that’s when it comes to responding to God’s call, God’s requests, God’s plans for our lives. We should say yes to God, in every situation, in every context, in every circumstance. As far as I can tell, as far as I can understand, God’s plan always is better than our own plan. Sometimes our plans are the same, but where God’s plan varies from our own plan, the smartest thing we can do is say yes to God’s plans. Still, sometimes, I think we respond to God as if God is someone who’s asked us for one favor too many, one demand too great on our schedule, one thing that pushes us too far. What happens if we say no to God? And what happens when we say yes? And why wouldn’t we say yes? If God is God, why say no to God? How can we dare? As loving as forgiving and full of grace as God is, still, how can we refuse the very God who creates us, the God who is the source of all life, anything? How can we say no to God? The only way I can explain our behavior is by guessing that some of us still don’t believe that God is calling us. Otherwise, how could we say no, if we really believed God was calling us?

Today we read two stories of call. First, in the Old Testament, we hear about the boy Samuel being called by God. Samuel is called to become a prophet in Israel. But when God calls, Samuel, still a child here, is confused about the voice he is hearing. Samuel was being raised in the temple, under the supervision of a man named Eli. We read that “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread,” a sentiment we perhaps would like to apply sometimes to our current-day situation. One night Samuel is lying down in the temple and hears God’s call: “Samuel, Samuel.” He think the voice is Eli, so he runs to him and says, “Here I am!” Eli says he did not call the boy, so he goes back to bed. This exchange repeats two more times, and Eli realizes God is calling the child. Eli directs Samuel to answer God next time Samuel is called. So God calls again, and Samuel responds, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” So begins Samuel’s life as a prophet to Israel and an eventual mentor to the first Kings of Israel, Saul and David.

When God calls Samuel, he’s not sure what is happening. He’s young and confused, and Eli is a source of guidance for him in responding to God’s call. I think we can sometimes find ourselves in the same situations. Perhaps we do feel we’re being called. Perhaps we know God is asking something of us. But maybe we can’t clarify what that is yet. Maybe we don’t know how to talk to God and figure it out. In this story, Eli’s role is indispensable. He is a mentor, and he helps Samuel understand his call. In my own life, I have had formally-named and informal mentors throughout my journey who have helped me answer a call to ministry. Without these voices of encouragement, I’m not sure what might have happened differently for me. Who in your life can you hear as a mentor? And who can you be a mentor to? I think often we over look our own power of influence. You may be the voice someone needs to hear – the voice that helps someone understand how God is using them.

In the gospel lesson, we read about the call of two of the disciples, Philip and Nathanael. Jesus simply walks up to Philip and says, “follow me.” Philip apparently agrees, and gets up to find his brother Nathanael, announcing to him that they’ve found the one about whom Moses and the prophets wrote. Nathanael is a skeptic, a little sarcastic. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nazareth wasn’t known for its goodness or for great heroes. Philip responds, “Come and see.” So Nathanael agrees, and just on seeing Jesus is convinced. When Jesus tells Nathanael he knows all about him without having been told anything, Nathanael is committed. But Jesus challenges him: “Do you believe because I told you these few things? I’ll show you things greater than this.” And with this exchange, Nathanael, like Philip, becomes a follower of Jesus. Maybe you are more like Nathanael than you are like Samuel. Maybe you need proof. Maybe you aren’t easily convinced, and need some hard evidence before you’ll be convinced God is talking to you. God is willing to do what it takes when God calls you.

The Bible is a collection of stories of people who are called. But why are they called? It isn’t for their goodness, their faithfulness, their devout and spiritual lives, I can tell you that much. Where in the Bible is someone chosen for a task because of their goodness? Because they are so special, or devoted, or righteous? King David, a hero of the faith, uses his power as king to seduce a married woman, and when he realizes she’s pregnant, he has her husband killed in battle. Jacob, who becomes the father of the twelve tribes of Israel, gets his role by tricking his blind and aged father into a blessing. Moses, who leads the people out of slavery into the promised land, is called by God just after murdering an Egyptian man and fleeing the scene of the crime. Paul is chosen to lead the early church after spending years of his life as a rabbi hunting down and persecuting followers of Jesus. Even Mary, mother of baby Jesus, does nothing that we know of that is special or particularly righteous that earns her God’s favor.

So how does God choose us for special purposes? Why were these people chosen for God’s plans? Why does God choose Samuel and Philip and Nathanael? I can find, throughout the scriptures, only one thing that those called and chosen by God have in common. One thing unites all of them, Samuel, Nathanael, and all the rest. It is so simple, it is staring us in the face. When God calls, they answer, and they say yes. That’s it. That’s all that sets them apart. Sometimes, like Samuel, they get confused about who is calling at first, and need clarification. Sometimes, like Nathanael, they are skeptical at first. Sometimes, like Moses, they complain and whine until God makes adjustments and they finally agree. Sometimes, like King David, they agree but continue to make lots of mistakes, leading sometimes sinful lives. Sometimes, like Philip, they just get up and go. But eventually, they say yes, and trust that God will enable them to do what God asks them to do.

Friends, we are already chosen by God. You are chosen. How can we believe ourselves to be anything but chosen? Do you remember the psalm we heard today? “For it was you, God, who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made – that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.” You are already chosen. What God would make you with so much care, if not because God had plans and hopes and dreams and responsibilities and challenges for you? You are created, and so you are chosen. You are a child of God, and so you are chosen.

What makes a difference is whether or not we will respond. What makes a difference is whether we say yes or no to God. But we are already chosen. If you don’t believe that, I encourage you to read Psalm 139 again and again until it sinks in. If you don’t believe that, I urge you to talk to someone you trust, and ask them what they think about God’s plans for you. If you don’t believe that, I ask you to read the scriptures and just try and find someone who was so perfect and gifted that God had to call them. And then find all the people who did God’s work who also screwed up a lot, made mistakes, committed sins. And tell me which list is longer.

Responding to a call from God isn’t always easy. You might have trouble understanding or hearing or figuring out your call. That’s ok. Your life is a journey – you can figure it out over time, with help, with prayer, with practice. But do respond. Do answer God, because you are chosen. And when it comes to answering God, I pray that your answer is always yes.

Amen.