Sermon, "Reconnect: I Have Come So That..." John 10:1-18

Sermon 9/29/13

John 10:1-18

Reconnect: I Have Come So That…

            As most of you know, in my journey to be healthier, I’ve been attending Weight Watchers for a little over a year. I tried the online membership in the past, but I’ve found that unless I have to go and weigh in in front of a real live person, and unless I stay for the 30 minute meeting each week, I just don’t do as well. I find it easier to stray off course. The meetings – well, they aren’t always deep and profound. Sometimes members spend a lot of time talking about how many calories are in different alcoholic beverages, or we spend a meeting focused on meat-based recipes that this vegetarian doesn’t find particularly helpful. But I enjoy the sense of community, and occasionally, people share stories and comments that really stick with me. One week, a woman talked about joining Weight Watchers, years previously, with one of her friends. They both lost weight – but in very small amounts at a time. .2lbs one week. .4lbs another week. It was very slow. And so she, the speaker, quit – she decided to try some other weight loss programs instead, where she could lose weight faster. Her results were mixed – she’d lose, but gain everything back. But her friend, who stayed at Weight Watchers, continued to lose, slowly, but consistently, and eventually, she lost all the weight she wanted, while the speaker was still struggling, back to Weight Watchers, and determined to stick with it this time, noting that her friend lost slowly, but doing it the right way, and had more success than her own erratic up and down progress. That’s the thing about weight loss. Unless you have some other medical issue that complicates things for you, the way to lose weight is pretty basic: take in fewer calories than you burn each day, and you’ll lose weight. It certainly isn’t easy to do, but shortcuts, paths to weight loss that seem easier usually end up making your journey to health much longer in actual practice.

            Really, though, I didn’t come here to share weight loss advice with you all – so let me tell you another story. One of the family vacations that will forever live in infamy is a time when we were taking several short trips to various locations around New York State. We’d gone to visit my grandparents in Kingston, NY, and from there, we were headed to Old Forge to spend the night so we could spend the next day at Enchanted Forest. My father was driving, and he decided to take a short cut. You already know where this is going, don’t you? He was sure that he could cut down our travel time by taking this gravel road that would bring us right to Old Forge. Of course, after hours of travel, we ended up in the completely wrong place at a dead end, with no options but to turn around and go back the way we came. It took so much longer than planned that instead of going to Old Forge, we just went home, and drove there the next day. What seemed like a shortcut ended up being an extra long, extra wrong way to go.

            One more story. I’ve told you that theologian C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia are some of my very favorite books. In the sixth book in the series, The Magician’s Nephew, you learn about the creation of the land of Narnia by Aslan, the lion, the Christ-figure in the books. He sends a little boy named Diggory on a mission to retrieve a fruit from a special tree in a gated garden. But an evil witch is also in the new land of Narnia. When Diggory arrives at the garden, he sees the witch climbing over the walls of the garden to steal and eat fruit. Only, the gate to the garden isn’t locked – Diggory can walk right in. And he sees a sign at the garden that reads,      

“Come in by the gold gates or not at all,

Take of my fruit for others or forebear,

For those who steal or those who climb my wall

Shall find their heart’s desire and find despair.”

Diggory can take fruit because he came in through the gate, and the fruit is not for himself, but to bring back to Aslan. The witch doesn’t drop dead or become physically ill, or anything like that. But her greed and longing for power corrupts her life until she destroys it entirely. If she had just gone in through the gate…

            I don’t know if you remember, but this passage from John 10 contains the text that I preached on in my first Sunday here at Liverpool First. I told you that my favorite verse in the whole Bible is this: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” It comes as part of John’s gospel, where Jesus shares two of several “I am” statements: I am the good shepherd, and I am the gate for the sheep. Jesus talks about those who try to enter the sheepfold by climbing in – thieves. He talks about sheep recognizing the voice of the shepherd, the voice of the gatekeeper. When Jesus calls himself the good shepherd, he says that a good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep, unlike the hired hand who would run and save his own life in a dangerous situation, rather than protect the sheep. He says he has other sheep too – other sheep in other flocks who will eventually become one fold. And again, he closes by emphasizing that he chooses to give his life. “I lay down my life in order to take it up again,” he says. “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.”

            “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” “I lay down my life in order to take it up again.” Jesus models with his own life how we claim this abundance he talks about. We, by our own choosing, under our own power, lay down our life. Maybe we don’t have to sacrifice our physical life. But we lay it down so that we can carry a cross. We lay it down so that we are free to serve others. We lay it down before God, as an act of obedience. God never forces our obedience. Jesus never forces us to follow. But if we want to follow Jesus, if we mean to obey God, if we want this abundant life, we have to stop trying to climb over the walls into the sheepfold of God’s blessings, when the gate is already open for us. We have to stop grabbing as much fruit as we can for ourselves. We have to stop taking shortcuts that are really just dead end roads. We have to stop trying every crazy magic diet trick and wondering why we are both stuffed full and completely unsatisfied, and further away from where we want to be all the time. Lay down your life to take it up again. But what we take back up will be this abundance that strangely comes from giving it all away, pouring out our lives to be filled by God.

            Pastor Aaron told me recently that he’d had a few folks who wanted to chat with him about his September newsletter article. Now, about a month ago in worship I asked you all if you’d read my newsletter column, and a few folks raised their hands, but then even more of you came to me after worship to say that yes, you’d read the column – it just took a little reminder from me in my sermon to remember what the column had been about. Well, I believe you. I believe you because when Pastor Aaron mentioned his column, which I had read, I had to pull it back out again to remind myself of the content. Pastor Aaron talked about the difference between the religion of Christianity and knowing about God and the life of discipleship that comes from having an active relationship with Jesus. If the difference is unclear, think about your favorite actress or sports figure. If you’re a big fan, you might know a million facts about the person – what movies they’ve been in or every award and trophy they’ve received. But sadly, that still doesn’t make you friends with your favorite celeb. There’s a difference between being a fan and being a friend.

            We’ve spent this month talking about our purpose. Why are we here? Why are we doing this thing called church, in this place, in this time, in this way? Our purpose is about making a space in our lives, and inviting others to do the same, where relationships can be built – with God, with the Way of Jesus, with one another. Not fans, but friends, followers of Jesus. How do we foster that work of relationship building at Liverpool First? Jesus didn’t say that he came so that…we could get into heaven when we died. So that we could have it easy. So that we could be safe. So that we’d have all the answers. So that we could tell others what to do and how to live. Jesus said he came so that we might have life that is abundant. Life that is really life. And so when our choir sings, they sing not so that they can dazzle us with their musical expertise, although having that is nice – but so that they can glorify God and help us do the same. And when our Sunday School children go to classes they go not to memorize facts and Bible verses – although those are good tools to have – but so that they can come to know Jesus as their friend who they can trust and love and serve. And when the Trustees meet they gather not because we need the fanciest facilities with the newest equipment here, although we’ve got a beautiful place to worship and work in God’s name, but because our space here is a way we invite others to connect with God and we want a team of people who are working hard to make sure our space is warm and open and usable and full of life in every corner of the building on as many days of the week as possible. And when our Member Care folks are working hard to update records and directories, they do it not because we want our statistical reports each year to be 100% perfect, although that’d be a nice side result, but because each address and phone number and email represents a relationship that we cherish and want to nurture so that we can reach every person with the message of God’s love.

            “I have come so that you might have abundant life!” Jesus claims. What about you? Why are you here? What’s your purpose? Have you come because you’re a big fan? Or because you and God are in a relationship? Because you plan to follow Jesus? Lay down your life to take it up again. Amen. 

Sermon, "Reconnect: Who Do You Say I Am?" Mark 8:27-37

Sermon 9/8/13

Mark 8:27-37

Reconnect: Who Do You Say I Am?

Confession time: how many of you who are on our mailing list got to read my newsletter column yet? In case you didn’t get to it, let me give you a quick summary. I shared with you about a video I saw at a conference some years ago. People in white shirts and black shirts are tossing a ball while moving around in a circle. You’re supposed to count how many times the people in white catch the ball. You watch intently, and get an answer, right or wrong. But then, the narrator asks, “Did you notice the gorilla?” You watch the clip again, and sure enough, a man in a gorilla suit walks through the middle of the group. At least 50% of viewers, including me, don’t notice the gorilla. It’s called “selective attention,” meaning when we are focused on one thing, we can miss other things, even very obvious things, because our attention is elsewhere. It’s why you might walk by someone you know in the supermarket and not even notice them. It’s why texting and driving is so dangerous. When we’re really focused, we don’t always see what else is going on. That’s why it is really important to make sure what we’re focused on is the right thing, the most essential thing. This month, our worship will be focused on helping us reconnect with our purpose. We need to make sure that of all the important things that happen here, we don’t miss the point – we don’t miss the gorilla walking through the middle of picture!

 Today we start thinking about our purpose with a text from Mark that we looked at back in February. At the beginning of our text, we find Jesus travelling with the disciples, and on the way, he asks them about how people see him. Who are they saying he is? The disciples tell him: some are saying he is John the Baptist, some Elijah, or another of the prophets. But then Jesus is more direct. And who do you say that I am? Peter answers boldly, rightly: You are the Messiah. But then Jesus begins to talk about what that means, his being the Messiah. He tells them about the suffering he’s about to go through, his death, and his ultimate resurrection. Somehow, though, Peter, who just called him Messiah, didn’t understand what that title would mean. He rebukes Jesus, and in turn, Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan.” Then Jesus turns to the crowds and says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?”

            Last week, I spoke to you about what I hear in the words, “I never knew you,” words that Jesus told us in Matthew’s gospel he might say to those pretending to be something they weren’t. “I never knew you.” This week, Jesus seems to be asking, “Do you really know me?” What strikes me in this passage is that it takes place in the eighth chapter of Mark. Mark’s gospel is short, so chapter 8 is actually half way through. By the time we get to today’s passage, Jesus has already called the disciples, cast out several demons, cured the blind, deaf, and sick, raised a girl from the dead, taught many parables, broken laws about fasting and Sabbath, calmed a storm, fed 4000 and 5000, traveled and taught among Gentiles, called out the scribes and elders about loving their traditions more than they love God, grieved over the death of John the Baptist, and sent disciples out to do some preaching, exorcising, and healing themselves. It seems a little late, doesn’t it, to be asking the disciples if they know who he is? If they don’t know who he is, you have to wonder, why on earth are they following him? Why would they go through all that they go through if they didn’t already have an answer worked out to Jesus’ question? “Do you really know who I am?” Would seeing some cool miracles and healings be worth leaving everything normal about their lives behind if they didn’t have a clear picture, or at least a becoming-clearer-each-moment-picture of who Jesus was? I hear, behind Jesus’ question to the disciples, that he wonders if they really know who he is, if they really know why they are following, if they really understand what it is all about. The road ahead is going to be very difficult, Jesus says. He talks about taking up crosses – instruments of execution – and he uses this as an illustration of what life is like when you choose to follow Jesus. It is putting your life on the line. Being willing to risk it all in order to follow. If you want to follow, be ready to carry a cross. Do you really know who I am, Jesus asks us? Do you really know what it means to follow me? Is this your purpose?

            Children are great at asking questions, and most of the time, the core question they ask is: “Why.” Children are curious, they wonder, they imagine, and when they see the stuff that we do without even thinking about it, things that are brand new to them, they want to know why. Why does green mean go and red mean stop? Why is the sky blue? Why does it rain? Why do I have to eat vegetables? Why can’t a lay on the floor during dinner? Why do I have to sleep at night? In fact, children often go through a phase of asking why, why, why, until adults find themselves uttering phrases they swore they would never use: Because! Because I said so! Just because! We know that the answers are complicated sometimes. Or sometimes we know we can’t give a good explanation – like the reason the sky is blue that we learned in science once upon a time but then forgot. And we know that sometimes the answer is not very satisfying: Because somewhere along the way we decided that laying on the floor for dinner would be called “rude,” while other things would be called “polite.”

            One of the unfortunate side effects of becoming an adult is that we often forget to ask why. We’ve stopped being curious, because we’re too busy, or rushed, or tired to wonder why. I think when we stop asking why, it becomes very easy to focus on the wrong things, to focus on the people passing the ball, instead of the gorilla walking by. We start paying attention to the interior decorating instead of the foundation. We start focusing on our plans instead of God’s plans. We start listening only to our own voice instead of God’s words. When we stop asking about our purpose, sometimes, we stop having one.  

            Why are we doing this thing called church? Why are we doing it here, at Liverpool First UMC? Is it because we want to follow Jesus? Why are we following him? One of the books I read for my most recent class suggested that every day, you remind yourself of what your primary purpose or purposes are in life. What’s the major belief that you are trying to live out, the major task you say you are all about? Then, at the end of each day, reflect on this question: What did I do today that helped me carry out our purpose? If your purpose is following Jesus, what did you do today that helped you to follow Jesus more closely? If at the end of each day, you find yourself unable to answer the question, the authors suggest it is time to start living differently, or at least time to admit your purpose isn’t really your purpose.

            I find it interesting that Jesus didn’t wait for each of the disciples to answer his question about who they thought he was. And when Peter demonstrated getting the answer right, but still missing out on true understanding, I’m sure Jesus wasn’t surprised. He didn’t kick the disciples out for getting confused over and over. Instead, he relentlessly tried to call peoples’ attention to the things they were overlooking – the important things. And so Jesus told the Pharisees to stop focusing on the minutia of the law while missing the heart. He told people to stop focusing on the people at the center of social circles, and start looking at the fringes. He told the disciples to stop vying for a place at the front of the line, and start trying to come in last, carrying a cross. Jesus asks us, again and again, to remember who we’re following, why we’re following, and what might happen when we sign up to walk with Christ.

            Why are you here today? Why here and not sleeping in? Why here, and not at the park? For some reason, on this day, at this time, in this place, we’ve all decided to come together, to talk about God, to sing songs about God, to talk about following Jesus. Do we know who we’re following? Do we know why?

            Amen.

Sermon, "Sermon on the Mount: Hearers and Doers," Matthew 7:21-29

Sermon 9/1/13

Matthew 7:21-29

Sermon on the Mount: Hearers and Doers

            Today we finish up our series on the Sermon on the Mount, as we examine Jesus’ largest chunk of teaching in the gospel of Matthew. Last week Pastor Aaron talked about fruit – good trees and good fruit, how we’re known by our fruit. Today’s passage continues directly on from there. “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom, Jesus says. “Only the one who does will of God.” He continues, “On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.’

            Then Jesus tells a parable about two people who build houses. The wise man builds his house on rock, and the foolish man builds his house on the sand. Storms comes, rain and flood and wind beats on both houses. But the house built on rock stands, while the house built on sand falls, and Jesus says, “great was its fall.” Jesus says that the man who builds on sand is like one who hears Jesus’ words and doesn’t act on them, while the man who builds on rock is like one who hears and acts on what Jesus has said. When he finishes, we hear that the crowds who have gathered during these three chapters of teaching are astounded at his teaching, because of the authority with which he teaches.

            In some ways, this passage seems straightforward. Build our lives on a good foundation of rock, rather than the squishy, unreliable sand foundation. That just makes common sense, right? We might even guess that Jesus himself is the rock, that God is meant to be the foundation of our life, the solid ground. But – what does Jesus mean about acting on “these words of his” – does he mean all of his words? Or the words he just spoke? And what about those people who say, “Lord, Lord,” that won’t enter the kingdom of God. What people are those? Jesus describes them as people who prophesy in the name of Jesus, cast out demons in the name of Jesus, do deeds of power in the name of Jesus. How can those people not be fit for the kingdom? Yet, Jesus says to them he will say, “I never knew you. Go away from me, you evildoers.” Suddenly it seems a bit more confusing, as we try to figure out whether we fall into the category of those who have built our houses on rock, or whether it turns out we accidentally laid our foundation in sand after all.

            I’m drawn back to the phrase, “I never knew you,” the words Jesus speaks to those who say, “Lord, Lord.” At first I read them as angry words, words where Jesus denies that he knows these people at all. But then I thought about where else I’ve heard these words. “I never knew you.” You say these words not when you are trying to disown someone, write them off, but when your heart is breaking with loss and pain because you realize someone you thought you knew well is not actually what they were pretending to be after all. “It turns out, I never really knew you.” That’s what you might say in reaction to the pain of betrayal when someone has failed to keep promises, or someone has been pretending to be something, when someone has claimed to love you but acted in ways that are quite contrary. You say, “I never knew you,” because their current hurtful behavior taints all the good memories from the past, doesn’t it? If one spouse finds out the other spouse was unfaithful to the marriage, it taints the way one looks at all the years of marriage that felt happy. If a leader turns out to be corrupt, has been abusing their power or embezzling money – it taints the years of seemingly good leadership they provided. “I never knew you.”

            I think that’s what Jesus means when he says, “I never knew you.” He’s talking to people who have had the right words perhaps, even the right actions in some ways – doing deeds of power, casting out demons – but really they’re false prophets, producing bad fruit. They’re not who they say they are. They’re fakes. They’re not who they were pretending to be to Jesus after all. William Sloan Coffin Jr. once wrote, “I think disguise is the essence of evil,” and Jesus seems to agree. Suddenly, I find myself wondering how I measure up. Am I just one of the people who is saying “Lord, Lord?” What will Jesus say to me? “Beth, I never really knew you.”

            I remember coming across the term “Imposter Syndrome” when I was taking some psychology classes in college. Listen to this description: “Have you ever had something amazing happen, like a promotion or an invitation to be a part of a coveted group, only to have your excitement give way to fearful thoughts almost immediately? Have you ever thought: They made a mistake and actually confused me with someone else much more qualified? Or had the feeling that even if they meant you, it will only be a matter of time before they realize you are a fraud? If you can relate to this scenario, then you have experienced moments of [the] psychological phenomenon known as the Imposter Syndrome, in which people are unable to internalize their accomplishments. That is, fearing it has all been a mistake and that someone will wake up soon to the fact that you really know nothing.” (1) In other words, we all feel like fakes sometimes. We feel like people will realize that we really aren’t skilled or smart or capable or likeable or lovable after all. If they knew the real us, they wouldn’t like what they saw.

            But here’s the thing. The jig is up. God already knows you. God already knows who you are. And what God wants is for you to be honest with yourself, and with others, about who that is. We’re not imposters who Jesus will disown when we’re less than perfect. We’re not imposters who are foolishly building on sand when we don’t always act in ways that we’re proud of. We’re imposters when we won’t admit that we’re broken. We’re imposters when we won’t admit that we struggle. We’re imposters when we won’t admit that sometimes we feel like we’re imposters! Because when we act like this, when we build up these false personas, we’re making ourselves, and not even our true selves, but our put-together, best-foot-forward, hope-no-one-looks-too-closely selves, we’re making our imposter selves the foundation of our spiritual houses, and trying to build on that. When we try to hide who we really are from God and each other, we are building our lives on sand. And friends, great will be the fall of our houses.

            I’ve lived in my own home for a little over a year now, and my list of things that I want to fix and improve and repair only seems to get longer, as I add two new things for every task I complete. But I’m happy with my home. I looked at a lot of houses before I bought the one I did. I remember one particular home that was lovely – I really liked it. And it had a lot of work done recently. And the realtor was eager to sell. But, when I walked through the kitchen, over the beautiful new floors, I noticed that occasionally things felt a little squishy under my feet. The outside looked pretty nice. But I had my suspicions about what was really underneath. In my home, I may have some work to do to make things look nicer. But my basement is dry. The foundation is good. I’m on solid ground. A good foundation is so much more important than the most beautiful interior decorating.

            Jesus wants us to hear what he says and act on it, doing the will of God. Sometimes, we’ll screw that up in the worst ways. But better to try and screw up than to pretend that we’ve got it all figured out. God’s not buying that anyway. And when we do that, we’re not building on the solid foundation of Christ whom we follow. We’re putting our own faulty selves down as foundation. When the storms come, and they always do, we’ll never withstand it. 
            Two weeks ago we sang one of my favorite hymns: “My Hope is Built.” The refrain goes, “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand; All other ground is sinking sand.” Whatever else you’ve been building on – the ground is surely sinking beneath your feet. Where do you stand? Where are you building? ‘Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!’” Amen.

(1) Terri Cole, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/terri-cole/fear-fraud_b_1941411.html