New sermon post at the new sermon blog

If you've been subscribing to this blog and you're reading this, that means you may not have heard that I've switched to a new blog service - and that I'll be posting a sermon there in a few hours.

You can find it at the new blog: http://themayberrypreacher.com

Please change your subscription to the new blog.  Thanks!

Steve

New name for new blog: http://themayberypreacher.com

Well, the fun continues.  Not only have I switched blogging services, but I've gotten a new blog name.  Now to access my sermons, all you need to do is type in:

http://themayberrypreacher.com

....and you'll go right to the new blog.  Short & sweet is the way I like it!

Thanks for sticking with me during this transition time.  See you at the new blog!

Steve

New sermon posted at new blog

Hey folks.  As I indicated in the last post, I've moved the sermon blog to another blog service.  Today's sermon has been posted there, and thus not here.  You can find it at my new blog url, which is:

http://stevelindsley.typepad.com/themayberrypreacher/

If you've subscribed to this sermon blog, make sure you update things to subscribe to the new one.

Thanks!

Steve

The Mayberry Preacher is moving!

Well, not really "moving." No one ever moves out of Mayberry, right?

This past weekend I moved my other blog, Thoughts and Musings, to Typepad, a top-rated blog service. It'll give me more flexibility and design choices. I've decided to do the same with the sermon blog too; beginning with tomorrow's sermon.

SO - if you've been kind enough to subscribe to this blog or check it every so often for my weekly sermons, please continue to do the same at the new blog address - which is:

http://stevelindsley.typepad.com/themayberrypreacher/

In the not-too-distant future I plan on having a special domain name, but either way if you subscribe to this link you'll be able to view my sermons as I post them.

For the next couple of weeks I'll post reminders of the switch as I post sermons to the new blog - and then eventually I'll discontinue this blog altogether.

I do appreciate you reading these and hope you'll continue to do so at the new blog - thanks so much!

Steve

SHEPHERDING 2.0

Ezekiel 34: 1-16, John 21: 15-17
Steve Lindsley
November 16, 2008

I have a college buddy in Atlanta who owns a small business with a dozen or so employees.  We were catching up a few weeks ago – we were instant messaging on Facebook!  We do this about once a month.  I guess we could pick up the phone and actually talk, but Facebook is so much easier.

Anyway, our conversations usually revolve around the standard “how are you doing” stuff.  I, of course, I tell him about this wonderful church that I have the pleasure of serving, all the great things we have going on here; the fact that there's a little bit of dust around because of the construction but you know, at least we're warmer now....

It's a different kind of response when I ask the same thing of him.  It's one of those deals where you ask someone how they're doing, and you kind of figure it'll be the obligatory “fine” or “great,” but you wind up with a five-minute answer that's much more than you bargained for – you know what I mean?  My friend usually goes into some story about how things are tough with his company, and it's not just the economy.  There's the employee who didn't get the package in the mail on time, the office manager who missed their deadline, the business partner who never seems to carry his own weight.  My friend laments that he has to step in all the time to keep the wheels spinning, even if it means taking on the work of others. 

And most every time he's nearing the end of his rant, he closes with the well-known line: You know, Steve, if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself.  And every time he says this I can't help but feel a little sorry for him, you know?  That he feels like he's the only one who can do it right; that he doesn't feel he can put his faith and trust in his fellow co-workers, that he seems to think his way is the only way.

Maybe that's what's going on here – I kind of have a suspicion it is.  But then again, maybe it's not.  Sometimes people really do mess up, fall down on the job; and the boss has to come in and straighten everything out, make everything right, do it all on their own.  I mean, it doesn't say it explicity in our scripture reading today, but that seems to be pretty much what God does in the 34th chapter of Ezekiel, don't you think?  If you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself. 

It's the middle of the sixth century before Christ, and the lives of God's people have been thrown into chaos.  The entire nation of Israel had been hauled off to live in Babylon, taken away from their homeland.  The people were defeated and demoralized, and their leaders were either gone or had become a shadow of their former selves.  They had failed to be the kind of leaders God had hoped they'd be, and the people needed them to be.

So the prophet Ezekiel enters into the fray, preaching a message of hope and renewal for the captives.  Except he doesn't call them captives, or people even.  He refers to them “sheep.”  And if you think about it, it's a perfect image, albeit not a very flattering one!  Sheep, generally speaking, are not the smartest animals in the barn.  They kind of wander around in groups, always in danger of going astray and never finding their way back to the fold.  They are fully dependent on their caretakers, the shepherds, to guide them from one green pasture to another.

As rough as the sheep have it, it isn't a picnic for the shepherds, either.  It's a 24-7 job just to keep up with all those sheep.  Good shepherds have to be attentive at all times, watching over their flock to make sure every one is okay.  But they can't just be focused on the here-and-now.  Shepherds have to always be thinking ahead of the game, to where the next green pasture would be, and make sure that their sheep get there safe and sound.

So the way Ezekiel sees it, Israel is the sheep, and their leaders are the shepherds.  Over the years God had sent them many shepherds, kings and priests and the like, to watch over the people and lead them to “greener pastures.”  But in this time of exile, when the sheep needed help the most, the shepherds had failed them.  The leaders of Israel had not been leaders; and they had failed their people in four specific ways:
     - They had not strengthened the weak;
     - They had not bound up the injured;
     - They had not brought back home those who had strayed;
     - And they had not taken time to seek out those who were lost.

Now according to Ezekiel, God has something to say about this.  God calls the leaders on the carpet, essentially saying to them, “You have failed your job!”  But that's not all God does.  In the next few verses, God puts on his best Donald Trump, “Apprentice” imitation and tells them, “You're fired!”  These no-good shepherds are out of a job, because they didn't do the job.

God has one more thing to say, and happens to be the divine equivalent of, if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself.  Amazingly, God declares, “I am the new shepherd!”  And God proceeds to do the very things the old shepherds should've done all along.  God will be the one to give strength to the weak, to bind up the injured, to bring back those who have wandered away, and to seek out the lost.  God will take care of the people, and no longer will they be forgotten or left to fend on their own.  God will be the new shepherd of Israel, and Israel – even in captivity – will be all the better for it.

Now no verses in scripture capture this image of God as shepherd any better than the 23rd Psalm – The Lord is my shepherd, it begins.  And what does this shepherd do?  He makes us lie down in green pastures; he leads us beside still waters.  He restores our soul.  With God as our shepherd, we are cared for, and we will never be forgotten again.  With God as our shepherd, we are protected from those who would do us harm.  With God as our shepherd, all wrongs are made right.  It 's great that God is our shepherd, isn't it?  It's something we celebrate in the joyous moments of our lives; and it's something we cling to when life is dealing out its worst.  It is a wonderful thing to have God as our shepherd.

I know I could end the sermon right here, but I'm not going to!  Because you know something?  At the risk of discounting God's love and grace, which I'm certainly not doing, there's a small part of me that feels funny about this.  And it's not God's fault – I think we're all grateful for all God does.  I'm pretty fond of the green pastures and cool waters myself.  It's just....it's just that it's a shame that God had to step in and take over the shepherding business in the first place.  It's a shame that God had to go all Donald Trump on us.  Because that used to be our job.  That's what we were supposed to be doing.  So while it's great that God stepped in like God did, shouldn't we feel sort of bad about failing to be the shepherds we were called to be?  Shouldn't we want our job back?

And I say “we” very intentionally here, my friends.  Because it is “we” that Ezekiel is speaking to.  When we're talking about “shepherds,” we're not just talking about the pastor, or the session, or the Congregational Care ministry team.  We're talking about all of us.  Do me a quick favor if you would – take your bulletin and look at the back, at the bottom, where all the staff are listed.  Do you see the very first thing?  It says: Ministers: All the members of the church.  I'm not the only minister here, folks.  Every single one of you is a minister too – a shepherd.  Which makes it kind of interesting, really; because the fact is that you are both the members and the ministers; you are both the sheep and the shepherds.  You need to be cared for and kept in the fold, nurtured and loved.  But you also need to be the ones who care, who are the “keepers of the fold.”  You're not just sheep.  You're shepherds too.

Jesus himself made this crystal clear when he met with his disciples on the lakeshore one morning after his resurrection – hanging out on the beach, munching on some grilled fish. He turns to Peter, whom he had previously called the rock upon which he would build his church.  And what does he say to Peter, what are his last words as he prepares to leave the future of the church in their hands?  Feed my sheep, he tells him.  That's what shepherds do for their sheep.  And that's what you and I are supposed to be doing for each other.

And that's the problem, isn't it?  That's where we fall short.  Because we still don't quite have this shepherding thing down all that well, if we're honest with ourselves.   I mean, sometimes we're pretty good at it.  Sometimes we're great about seeing the needs around us and responding as the shepherds we're called to be.  But other times we're not so great.  You know, maybe we're okay with being a shepherd, but for a particular kind of sheep – the easy ones, the ones that don't require a lot of effort.  Or maybe we're fine with the whole shepherding thing, but we really want to do it as it's convenient for us, on our own timetable.  Then we can be shepherds.  Or maybe we feel, you know, that we've already done our time as shepherds, so we walk away from the flock, assuming that someone is going to step in take our place. 

I can't help but think as I read this story in Ezekiel that God's action forces us to ask ourselves all kinds of questions.  Are we really being the kind of shepherds God needs us to be?  Are we?  Are we being the kind of shepherds God needs us to be in our families?  Are we being the kind of shepherds God needs us to be for this church – because there's a whole lot of sheep here, ya'll, and there's plenty of shepherding to do!  Are we?  Are we being the kind of shepherds God needs us to be for our community, for our world; where the needs are great, where plenty of people have strayed from the flock, where there is precious little of those green pastures and cool waters to nurture and sustain us.  Are we being the kind of shepherds that God needs us to be?

That's the question this story poses to us, and the mandate Jesus gives us – to be shepherds in a world of lost sheep.  And I wish you and I could see, every minute of every day, what a wonderful privilege it is to serve God, to serve this church, and to serve our people.  I wish we had the ability to fully grasp how awesome it is, with God's help, to pick up our shepherd's crook and go out into a world of lost sheep.

I really wish we could be more like the lady that Shasta spoke to on the phone this past week.  This lady had called the church, like so many other people this time of year, about Thanksgiving meals – the ones the youth fundraised for and you all donated for.  You know, every year about this time there's a running joke around the church office – that when the phone rings we really don't need to answer it “First Presbyterian Church” but rather “Shasta's Thanksgiving meal answering service!”  You have no idea how many calls we get from people asking about their Thanksgiving meal.  It gets crazy.

On a particularly crazy day this past week, Lynn buzzed Shasta in her office: Phone for you about you-know-what.   Shasta picked up the phone.  The lady on the other end quickly introduced herself and then cut to the chase.  I need to talk to you about Thanksgiving meals, she said.  So Shasta dutifully launched into her spiel – how this woman would need to speak with so-and-so at the Salvation Army, how they would reserve the meals with them, how she could pick everything up on the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving at such-and-such a time.....

Shasta said that when she finished, the lady patiently responded that she was not calling about a meal for herself.  She was calling because she wanted to make a donation, and she explained why.  She told Shasta about how her two sisters had experienced difficult times in recent years, really struggled with some things in their lives, and money was more than tight.  But thanks to the work of this church, their families had not had to experience a Thanksgiving holiday without a Thanksgiving meal.  This lady told Shasta, “You all fed my sisters and their families when they couldn't feed themselves.  Now it's my turn to help you feed someone else's sister.”

Feed my sheep, Jesus said.  Wow.  I don't know about you, but that woman on the other end of the phone sounds an awful lot like a shepherd to me.  Because a shepherd strengthens the weak and binds up the injured.  A shepherd brings home the strayed and seeks out the lost.  A shepherd serves God and serves everyone around them, not necessarily because they want to all the time, but because God needs them to all the time.  And listen – I don't doubt for one second that God will always be our shepherd.  It's just that I think we should do everything we possibly can to get our old job back.  Let's get our job back, shall we?  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

ALL FOR HIS STEADFAST LOVE

Psalm 107: 1-32
Steve Lindsley
November 2, 2008

Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to an inhabited town;
hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress;
he led them by a straight way, until they reached an inhabited town.
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wonderful works to humankind.
For he satisfies the thirsty,
and the hungry he fills with good things.

You know how you get when it's been a long day, longer than any day you can remember, and you're so spent that you can't think straight?  But you have to keep going, you have to keep moving, because everyone else around you is and you have to keep up with them, even though every muscle in your body thinks otherwise.  So you focus on on step at a time.  One foot in front of the other, bit by bit by bit.  If you can do that, then you can get to wherever you need to go, no matter how exhausted you are.  You can get across the neighborhood, or across town.  Or, in my case, you can get all the way from Jerusalem to Babylon.

See, that's exactly how the Psalmist felt when he wrote those words: Some wandered in desert wastes, hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them.  I'm telling you, that was me.  Me and everyone else.  They kept telling us that Jerusalem would fall, Jerusalem would fall.  But we didn't believe them.  It'd never happen to us, not Jerusalem!  Not the Promised Land, the holy city!  Not a nation ruled by a descendant of the great King David!  They would warn us, these prophets, but we would write them off as either traitors or crazy men.  We thought we were safe.

You remember that blissful confidence you felt on September 10, 2001, and how nothing bad could ever happen to you, that the stuff of your worst nightmares only took place in other countries but never in your own backyard?  Then the next day came, and it changed your world, didn't it?  That's what we felt as the Babylonians stormed our gates and set fire to our city.  They took us – all of us – and led us away from our homeland.  And the last image we have of that place, an image that is forever seared in our brains, is of our beloved city Jerusalem consumed in flames.

And so I know what it's like to be without a home, wandering aimlessly in the desert, calling out to God for some direction, some guidance.  You know what that's like, don't you?  You know what it's like to be in want, to be dead to the world and to yourself?  You know what it's like to not know when or how your salvation will come, if it ever will come at all?  You've been there before, I know you have.  At some point in your life, I know you have.

Oh God, come to us and restore us.  Quench our thirst and do away with our hunger.  Deliver us from these difficult times.  And fill us forever with good things.

*******

Some sat in darkness and in gloom, prisoners in misery and in irons,
for they had rebelled against the words of God,
and spurned the counsel of the Most High.
Their hearts were bowed down with hard labor;
they fell down, with no one to help.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress;
he brought them out of darkness and gloom, and broke their bonds asunder.
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wonderful works to humankind.
For he shatters the doors of bronze and cuts in two the bars of iron.

The other day one of my fellow captives in Babylon put it so perfectly – the hopelessness and the anger and the regret.  By the rivers of Babylon, he wrote, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion.  For how can we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?

How indeed.  We are spent, and the life has been sucked right out of our souls.  And it's not that Babylon is such a bad place.  It isn't.  When they first brought us here we couldn't help but think of the trials and tribulations our ancestors faced thousands of years before in Egypt, stuck in the mud pits making bricks night and day.  We feared that our fate would be the same as theirs.

But when we got here we found it wasn't that way.  They let us have homes of our own.  They let us have jobs and make a living for our families.  They even let us worship our God.  To be honest, in many ways it wasn't all that different from our day-to-day lives before.  And for that we've been most grateful – that our lives for the most part have been the same.

Except.....except that it isn't the same.  Even though our lives looked similar to what they were in Jerusalem, the fact remains that we're NOT in Jerusalem.  We are nowhere near our Promised Land.  We are miles and miles away from it all, and there's no telling how long we'll be here, how long we'll have to sit by these strange rivers in a strange place that is not our own.  So we are imprisoned.  It is a different kind of iron and bar and concrete that hold us captive.

And you know, I think your lives aren't very different in that regard.  You do have lots of choices and freedoms in your life.  You can choose what course you want your life to take; what job you want to pursue.  You can choose who to marry; how many kids you have.  You can choose what you want for breakfast in the morning, or who you vote for, or what faith you believe in, and even if you believe in any at all.  You are free!

And yet, you're not totally free, are you?  You're imprisoned in other ways you may not readily see.  You're bound to a culture that sometimes measures a person's worth by the size of their portfolio or the number of their connections in their social circles.  You're bound to a consumer mentality that declares “you are what you own” and leaves you convinced that the more you get, the more you still need.  You are bound to a society that tends to draw lines and separates people into this group or that, into who is in and who is out.  You may not be behind physical bars, and you may not live in a strange and foreign land, but you're still imprisoned, just like me.

And so the words of the Psalmist are your words too: He saved them from their distress, he brought them out of the darkness and gloom, he broke their bonds asunder, and he cut in two the bars of iron.  You don't need to be imprisoned to your own devices.  You can hope – hope that captivity will come to an end, hope that the world doesn't have to continue being the way it is, hope that God's power and love can free us and release us from what has kept us bound for far too long.  Freedom for us – freedom for everyone – is closer than we may know.

******* 

Some were sick through their sinful ways,

and because of their iniquities endured affliction;

they loathed any kind of food, and they drew near to the gates of death.

Then the cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress;

he sent out his word and healed them, and delivered them from destruction.

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,

for his wonderful works to humankind.

And let them offer thanksgiving sacrifices

and tell of his deeds with songs of joy.

 The sickness came to us suddenly, in many different ways.  One minute everything was great, and the next minute we got word of the biopsy that turned up some “suspicious cells,” or the car that came out of nowhere, or the depression that struck almost overnight.  The sickness also came to us slowly; and even though we knew it was there we kept putting it off, kept looking the other way, kept trying to convince ourselves that everything was okay.

The sickness took place in our bodies, but it also took place in our souls, slowly and suddenly.  In one sense we weren't surprised at Jerusalem's fall – the Babylonians were so powerful, so strong, and we just didn't want to admit that it was only a matter of time.  And yet, it also caught us off-guard when the soldiers set our city aflame.  This wasn't supposed to happen to us – God's chosen!  The sickness shocked us, and we were not prepared to face it.  And the more it sunk deeper into our skin, and into our souls, the more sick we became. 

Babylon did very little to make us feel better.  It only reminded us that things would always be the same and they would never be the same.  We were spinning round and round in circles, and it was making us nauseous.  All Babylon did was feed us the same bland, unfulfilling stuff.  We loathed it.  We were tired of being sick and we cried out to God to make us healthy again.

Lord, why must the sickness be among us?  Why can't we just “pray” it away?  Why do things like cancer and old age and mental distress have to take their toll, and why does our soul have to suffer?  We want to believe, Lord.  We want to know that your presence can  bring healing to the brokenness.  But it's so hard to put that kind of trust in you.  Our world is in shambles – we see signs of it every day in the newspapers and on TV.  We are drowning in the brokenness that surrounds us.

Lord, grant us your healing.  Mend the rifts that separate us from each other and from you.  Help us understand that the monotonous routines of our lives do not have to define who we are and how important we are.  We are ready to be well.  We are ready to be made whole.
  

*******

Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the mighty waters;

they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep.

For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.

They mounted up to heaven, they went down to the depths;

their courage melted away in their calamity;

they reeled and staggered like drunkards, and were at their wits end.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress;

he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.

Then they were glad because they had quiet,

and he brought them to their desired haven.

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,

for his wonderful works to humankind.

Let them extol him in the congregation of the people,

and praise him in the assembly of the elders.

 We Are Going Home.  word spread like wildfire, from one household to the next, from one neighborhood to the other.  We are going home.  shot through our veins like a jolt of electricity, waking us from our 40-year slumber.  The old ones cried tears of joy because they would gaze upon their homeland one last time.  The younger ones waited in great anticipation to set their feet in a Promised Land they had only heard about in stories.

We are going home.  were at the peak of the mountaintop, looking down on the world below.  Such promise, such hope.  And we relished in the thought of our elation, because we knew beyond a shadow of doubt that we had seen the depths of that valley; we had sunken lower than we ever imagined possible.  We were homeless and hungry; we were held captive and imprisoned, we were sick and suffering.  We had seen it all.  And then God came to us and met us exactly where we were.  God filled us with good things, God released us from bondage, God healed us and made us whole.  God came to us time and time again.

And so I picture a sailor out on the open seas in the dark of a storm; the swirling waters catapulting the boat up on the crest of the waves, and then down into the caverns of the swell.  Up and down, up and down, with nothing to stabilize, nothing to hold on to, nothing to prevent the craft from being torn apart.  And then the storm is made to be still, and the waves calm so that the peaks aren't so high and the swells not so deep.  There is a peace about it all, because all is equal.  Just the smooth waters ahead, ready to be sailed.

I think about this and it reminds me how God is the stabilizing force in our lives.  How God keeps us grounded during the good times, and lifts our spirits when life dishes out its worst.  I think about this and I realize, finally, that at the very heart of this incredible faithfulness is nothing more than God's steadfast love.  Hesed, is how we say it.  Hesedfor a wayward people desperately searching to find their home.  Hesedfor a captive people wanting so much to break free.  Hesedfor the sick and dying, to bring new life to their souls.  And Hesedfor those maneuvering the highs and lows of life.  Hesed is nothing more than God's way of reminding us how precious we are, over and over and over again, even when we fail to see the same in others, even when we fail to see it in ourselves.

And that is why we all can open our mouths and open our very hearts, and say the words loud and clear for all to hear:

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,

for his wonderful works to humankind.

   
Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

EXTREME MAKEOVER - SOUL EDITION

2 Corinthians 5: 16-21
Steve Lindsley
October 26, 2008

First there was just Extreme Makeover.  It aired on Thursday nights at 9:00 on ABC.   According to its website, it described itself as “. . . a real life fairy tale in which (people’s) wishes come true, not just to change their looks, but their lives and destinies. This magic is conjured up through the skills of an ‘Extreme Team,’ including the nation's top plastic surgeons, eye surgeons and cosmetic dentists, along with a talented team of hair and makeup artists, stylists and personal trainers, led by an on-camera Extreme Makeover expert.”  The show concluded as each person had their “climactic unveiling” – a staged and tremendously over-hyped event where he or she finally emerged through the curtains and appeared before their loved ones, who'd hoot and holler, whose mouths gaped open in amazement, and who inevitably cried tears of joy over their “new” mom or wife.

Then came Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  It had the same basic concept except it involved – you guessed it – a house.  It focused on some family who had gotten a raw deal in life – a natural disaster that destroyed some or all of their home, someone in the family with a terminal illness, some kind of situation that was ripe for a shot in the arm.  Over the course of seven days, the family is shuffled off for a first-rate vacation (paid for by the show's producers), while ringleader Ty Pennington rallies local contractors and other willing hands to totally redo the house – new rooms, appliances, walls – no expense is spared.  Sometimes it involves totally demolishing the old structure and building a new one.  At the end of the show, the family is standing on the other side of the road from their house, whose view is blocked by a bus.  And when the bus is moved, the family literally freaks out as they gaze upon the new creation – all of which is captured on television for the viewing pleasure of millions. 

Who knows what the next evolution will be?  It's interesting how fascinated the public can be about this sort of thing – the work itself (whatever is being “made over”), as well as the emotions and drama of the final “unveiling.”  Lives are changed!.......or are they?  You know, it's rare that they ever do any kind of “follow-up” with these individuals or families a year or two down the road.  It'd be interesting to see what happens after the camera crews leave and the fervor dies down, don't you think?  I mean, is the life of that woman who lost all that weight and had that fancy haircut really changed?  How about the family who is faced with trying to sell a monster of a house in this economy in a neighborhood where the average home is half its size?  These makeovers make for great TV – but do they really change lives?

Changing lives, after all, was what the apostle Paul was writing about in his second letter to the church in Corinth; a church he had had a long-standing relationship with.  And like any relationship, there were some good times and then there were some not-so-good times.  This was one of those “not-so-good” times.  Apparently Paul had endured what he referred to as a “painful visit” not too long before, and the tension and anger were still very much there as he put pen to paper.

And, you know, you gotta feel for Paul.  I mean, it's not like he's trying to tick everyone off.  It's not like wants to make a bunch of enemies, or be the thorn in their collective side.  All he wants is for people to emulate in their lives their relationship with Jesus Christ.  Not simply touched by it; not just giving them a “warm fuzzy feeling” inside.  Paul wants their habits, their routines, their thinking, their reasoning and their actions to undergo radical change.  He wants them to realize, as he says in the verse Octavia read, that anyone in Christ is a new creation – everything old has passed away, and everything has become new.  In other words: Extreme Makeover – Soul Edition.

It's kind of funny, you know.  I mean, it took a number of years before folks came up with a name for these people.  “New Creations” just didn't quite roll off the tongue all that well.  So eventually – years and years after Jesus' death – they took to calling them Christians.  “Little Christs” is what the term really means.  People trying to model one's self after what they saw in Jesus.  And notice one thing – it wasn't all about what those people believed.  In fact, in many ways they were still working that part out.  What the word “christian” meant back in the day was how one lived, and how their relationship with Jesus changed the way they lived.

So who exactly is a Christian?  It's not as easy as it sounds, is it?  I mean, what ultimately makes a Christian a Christian?  Is it that they once made a profession of faith – is that it?  Is it that they're active in a church, or on their member rolls – is that who a Christian is?  There are people who think that just because your family attends church makes you a Christian, and then there are people who believe that being a Christian has absolutely nothing to do with going to church.  Defining who and what a Christian is in our day and time can be a tricky business.

Not too long ago I came across a wonderful quote by writer Henri Nouwen; and I want to lift it up to you as a brilliant way of understanding who and what a Christian is.  I've asked Lynn to print it on the back of the announcements page this morning, and as I read it out loud I want to ask you to read it silently with me:

You are Christian only so long
as you constantly pose critical questions to the society you live in,
so long as you emphasize the need of conversion both for yourself and for the world,
so long as you in no way let yourself become established in the situation of the world,

so long as you stay unsatisfied with the status quo
and keep saying that a new world is yet to come.
You are Christian only when you believe you have a role to play
in the realization of the new kingdom,
and when you urge everyone you meet with holy unrest to make haste
so that the promise might soon be fulfilled.
So long as you live as a Christian you keep looking for a new order,
a new structure, a new life.

(http://www.brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/nouwen-quote.html, visited on 7.8.2008)

How about that!  You know, you could take each one of these stanzas and make an entire sermon out of them!  Maybe I'll do that sometime.  Because it's not a bad understanding of who and what a Christian is, is it?  It's so much broader, so much deeper than what you and I tend to think of.  It's not about what family someone comes from, or where someone attends church, or whether they even attend church at all.  What it boils down to is the rather simple yet terribly difficult notion of allowing your relationship with Christ to change not just your life, but the lives of those around you.

And that is precisely what the apostle Paul was trying to get across to those Christians in Corinth – those wonderful, spirit-filled, faithful, divisive, argumentative, misguided Christians.  People who claim Jesus as Lord don't see things or do things like the way the world sees them and does them.  People who claim Jesus as Lord pose questions to the greater society that no one else dares to ask.  People who claim Jesus as Lord do not only see the need for conversion in everyone else, but first see that same need in themselves.  People who claim Jesus as Lord do not sit idly by, but instead are actively engaged in doing their part to usher in God's kingdom on earth.  And people who claim Jesus – and I love how Nouwen puts this – urge everyone with holy unrest to join in the mission.  “Holy unrest” - there's no time to waste!  The extreme makeover, soul edition begins right now.

And so I wonder – how do Paul's words challenge you, some 2000 years later?  That's the question, isn't it?  How do we enact this new creation as members of First Presbyterian Church of Mount Airy?  Just days away from an important election, how does Christ call us to behave and vote our conscience instead of our fears?  How do we as Christians engage issues like hunger and poverty, torture, AIDS?  Those less fortunate than us, a dying world, a lonely child, a fractured family, a church preparing to conclude its 150th year of service?

You're beginning to see, I hope, that being a Christian is a whole lot more involved than simply following that “A-B-C” formula on the back of the tract you find stuck in the frame of the mirror in the public bathroom.  And the beauty of it is, the kind of “extreme makeover” that Paul talks about – seeking reconciliation and being ambassadors of that reconciliation – is not restricted at all to the confines of a church building.  The embodiment of this new creation can take place just about anywhere.

Tony Campolo knows this is true.  Campolo is a wonderful speaker, writer and evangelist who has an uncanny way of seeing the church in the world around us.  A few years back, Tony traveled to the east coast for a speaking engagement.  It was late at night when he got there, and the time change had played havoc with his sleeping pattern, so he found himself in a run-down doughnut shop well after midnight.  As Tony enjoyed his doughnut and coffee, he also picked up that this place was a gathering point for, of all people, some of the local hooker crowd. 

At one point his booth was adjacent to two of those young women in conversation; one of whom was named Agnes.  He heard Agnes say to the other, “You know what?  Tomorrow's my birthday.  I'm gonna be 39.”  Her friend snapped back, “So what d'ya want from me? A birthday party?  Huh?  You want me to get a cake and sing happy birthday to you?”  With a sullen look on her face Agnes replied, “Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean?  Why do you have to put me down?  I'm just sayin' it's my birthday.  I don't want anything from you.  I mean, why should I have a birthday party?  I've never had a birthday party in my whole life.  Why should I have one now?”

The two women eventually left, but Tony stayed.  He stayed because hearing this exchange gave him idea.  He got up and found the doughnut shop owner and asked him if Agnes came in every night.  And when he said yes, Tony invited him to take part in what he called a “surprise party conspiracy.”  The owner's wife even got involved.  Together they arranged for a cake, candles, and typical party decorations for Agnes, who, other than a familiar face, was known to none of them.  They planned all of this out for the next night, when Tony and the others would spring their surprise.

Tony got there a little earlier the next night, just to be sure. And when Agnes eventually walked in, Tony and all the other patrons shouted out, “Surprise!”   At first Agnes was clueless – and a little frightened!  But when she finally made the connection, and realized what was going on, and realized this was all for her, she couldn't believe it.  The doughnut shop patrons sang, and when it came time to blow out the candles Agnes struggled to do so through the tears rolling down her face.  And when it came time to cut the cake, Agnes asked if it would be okay if they didn't cut it, and if she could take it home just like it was, to keep it for a while and savor the moment.  So she left, carrying her cake down the street that night as if it were the greatest of treasures.

Tony led the guests in a prayer for Agnes, after which the shop owner told Tony he didn't realize Tony was a preacher.  He asked what kind of church Tony came from, and Tony replied, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning.”

The shop owner couldn't believe him.  “No you don't.  There ain't no church like that, he said.  If there was, I'd join it.  In a heartbeat.”

(As told by Brian McLaren from his book The Secret Message of Jesus: Uncovering the Truth That Could Change Everything: Thomas Nelson Publishing, 2006 pgs. 144-145)

Folks, it's true that our church is in the middle of a makeover of sorts.  And there may be a little dust and dirt around, and the staff can tell you it gets pretty noisy around here sometimes.  But the real important makeover is the one that takes place in each of our hearts, and how that makeover plays itself out in the lives we live as followers of Christ.  “New Creations,” Paul calls us.  Christians.  With God's blessing, may we be the kind of church that changes lives, and that others, like that doughnut shop owner, long to become part of.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

MORE THAN JUST BELIEVING: REDISCOVERING "GOING GREEN"

(Note to readers: well, I'm not preaching again this week!  Our church is having its first-ever Homecoming as part of our 150th anniversary celebration, and we are honored to have the Rev. Steve McCutchan preaching as I assist in worship.

So, to fill the gap this week, I've decided to repost a sermon I preached earlier this year as part of my Lenten Sermon Series.  I was led to repost this particular one in light of the recent release of "The Green Bible," an environmentally-aware publication of the NRSV translation.  It's pretty nifty, and I'd encourage you to read more about it in a post I made on my other blog.

It is kind of sad that those who were given the command "to till and keep the earth" have fallen so far behind in the environmental quest for our earth.  This sermon was an attempt to call us back to that very endeavor.)



Genesis 1: 26-31; Psalm 24: 1-2, 7-10
Steve Lindsley
March 2, 2008

There is a story that goes like this: a group of scientists, world-renowned experts in their various fields, were reviewing all the scientific accomplishments of the last millennium – diseases that had been cured, food that had been artificially manufactured, even life created in a test tube.  And they came to a unanimous conclusion – the human race did not need God anymore.  Things had gotten to the point, they surmised, where they could sustain the many species and the world without the Divine’s help. So they thought it would be the courteous thing to inform God of their decision, so that God would feel free to find another universe to oversee.

They came before God and shared their thoughts.  God, being a realist, admitted to the amazing strides the human race had made over the years.  So God was willing to leave humanity on its own if this group of experts could pass one small test.  I want you to create life, God asked them, just like I did in the beginning, with a handful of dirt.  The scientists took this challenge to heart.  They convened over the next few weeks, working day and night.  And finally – eureka!  They determined that, together, they possessed the scientific knowledge to meet God’s challenge.
So they went back to God and told God they had figured it out.  Show me, God asked.  One of the scientists ran outside and came back in with a vial full of dirt.  But before they got any further, God stopped them and said, Oh, I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood.  I meant for you to get your own dirt!

Now getting their “own dirt,” of course, is not something those scientists could’ve done.  Kind of ironic, isn’t it, that in a world where we can order fast food fast, where a few clicks on Amazon.com can put a book in our mailbox in a matter of days, where an old t-shirt can be discarded and replaced with a new one – in a world with so much of so much, one of the very few things we cannot get more of is dirt.  What we’ve got is all we’re ever going to have.

You know, it’s the same thing with this earth of ours.  As you know, our sermon series this Lenten season is focusing on More Than Just Believing.  It’s about the idea that thoughts lead to actions, convictions lead to change, believing leads to following.  Last week we talked about how our faith calls us not only to think nice things about “the least of these,” but to stand alongside and align ourselves with them.  Today it’s not people we’re talking about, but something else that certainly needs our attention.  Consider the following:

• One-fifth of our planet’s tropical rainforests – crucial to the overall world climate – have been cleared since 1960.  Currently they’re disappearing at 1% each year.
• We are currently operating at 100 to 1000 times the normal extinction rate, which means that today, one in four mammal species, one in ten bird species, one in four amphibian species, and half of all primate species are threatened with extinction.
• In our lakes, rivers and oceans, fisheries are being depleted at twice their replacement rate.
• And speaking of water, by 2020 one in three people will suffer from fresh water shortages.  This has already been experienced in third-world countries, and is being felt now in industrialized nations, even in our own state of North Carolina, where some counties and municipalities are still under water restrictions.
  

I imagine many of you have heard these statistics or others like them before.  Now, here’s the interesting part: these were not compiled by some scientist or some stereotypical environmental activist.  These statistics were assembled by internationally acclaimed Christian writer and theologian Brian McLaren in his most recent book, aptly titled Everything Must Change.  Brian is no push-over: he is a Biblical scholar who is part of a new movement – or more appropriately a new-old movement – to reclaim, among other things, the environmental component of the Christian faith.   He is making the important case that “going green,” as the current lingo goes, is not simply a nice thing for people of faith to do, but is in fact a Biblical mandate and duty for every follower of Christ.

Perhaps it may surprise us to look at this particular issue through the lens of faith – we’re not really used to that.  It is almost as if, over the years, we Christians have managed to remove ourselves from this conversation.  And that’s a shame – because this conversation is not only one we should be part of, but in fact it is one that we started, a very long time ago.

Remember back to the beginning of it all, the book of Genesis, and the beautiful account of how our world, and everything in it, came to be.  The heavens and the earth, day and night, created on the first day.  The sky above and waters below on the second and third.  The sun and moon and stars on the fourth; the fish in the seas and birds in the air on the fifth.  Animals roaming the earth on the sixth.  All the world was an intentional act of God; an act that had meaning and purpose and (something which will make us Presbyterians happy) order.

Also on the sixth day, God created humankind, male and female.  And there is something wonderfully unique about this particular creature in God’s order – it was given the following directive:

Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and every living thing that moves upon the earth.

 Dominion.  It’s a powerful sort of word, isn’t it?  It comes from the Latin word dominus which literally means “lord” or “master.”  Webster’s defines “dominion” as “having supreme authority and absolute power.”  That’s strong stuff!  We think of someone having “dominion” over another and imagine total and complete ownership – where the domineering one completely subjugates the other, and can do with it as it pleases.

Which strikes me, because that’s exactly how it seems we’ve viewed our role in the created order over the years.  The human race has taken this “dominion” thing to an unfortunate extreme – thus the kinds of statistics and examples McLaren and many others continue to bring to our attention.  There is a carelessness and ignorance here, both of which are quite tragic.   Common sense dictates that we are setting up our world, and future generations, for disaster if we persist in habits that lead to the world’s detriment.  It’s just not very smart.

But you know what concerns me as a person of faith, more than this “not being very smart?”  It’s also horrible theology!  As Christians, we are making some assumptions about the world and our role in it that are way out of line with what the Bible tells us.  I’m reminded of the televangelist I once saw on TV who told his millions of viewers that, because God had given us “dominion” over all creation, we could literally do with it whatever we want.  It is ours – we own it!  There are even some who view the current environmental crises as somehow fulfilling Biblical prophecy about the “End Times;” so that the decline of the earth is to be welcomed with open arms.  What this does, of course, is rearrange the whole order of things.  Instead of God being at the center of the universe, we are.  Instead of God’s needs being the ones that matter the most, it’s our needs – our whims and desires, to be more accurate.  It is flawed theology, it is unbiblical, it is dangerous and – let’s just say it – it’s wrong.

There is an ancient story about two men in a rowboat heading toward land. Suddenly, with land still far away, one of the men begins to dig a hole in the bottom of the boat underneath his feet.  The other man asks him what in the world he’s doing.  To which the first replies, This is none of your business. I am digging the hole on my side of the boat!  The point of the story, of course, is that the earth is like a boat, our means of transport in this gift of life; and what one person does with this “boat” affects all who are on it with them.

You know, I wonder what would’ve happened if the televangelist mentioned earlier had taken a closer look at this Genesis passage, and this word “dominion.”  It’s kind of interesting, actually.  The Hebrew word used here, rada, has a connotation that differs dramatically from what the English translation suggests.   It is not at all about exploitation and domination; it’s about bearing a responsibility of care-giving and nurturing.  Creation-care, if you will.  Think about that.  To “have dominion” over the world does not mean we can do with it what we want.  To have dominion over the world doesn’t mean it’s ours at all.  As the Psalmist says quite emphatically, The Earth is the LORD’s.  We are commissioned with the care and nurture of all creation; protecting rather than exploiting, building up instead of tearing down, being wise and thoughtful instead of instinctive and selfish.

Now that kind of changes things, doesn’t it?  It makes us wonder: what would the earth look like if Christians everywhere took this little rada word to heart?  What would it look like if we really did see our role, our responsibility, our duty as people of faith, to take care of creation and the creatures within it?  What might that look like?  Well, let me at least tell you what it’s going to look like here at First Presbyterian Church.  Just last month, our session unanimously adopted an initiative titled “FPC Goes Green;” created through the hard work of church members Dave Petri, Lorie Lindsley and Joe Lampl.  You have a copy of this on the back of your announcements page, and I’d like to invite you to follow me as I read it:

“The Earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it” – Psalm 24:1
The Psalmist reminds us that creation is a gift from God.
And yet humanity has for the most part failed to acknowledge this,
assuming that the world is ours to do with as we please.
So we have engaged in practices that harm the environment,
contribute to global warming, and serve our own interests.
.As people of faith, the Christian community should stand opposed to this mindset
and do what it can to re-educate the faith community
that “going green” is not simply  a nice thing to do,
but is in fact a theological and Biblical mandate.
Therefore, as part of the 150th celebration of First Presbyterian Church of Mount Airy,
the session endorses the “FPC Goes Green” initiative.

So what exactly is this initiative?  How is our church going to “go green?”  I’m glad you asked!

First, we are in the process of switching our incandescent lighting to more energy-efficient CFL bulbs.  We’ve already done this with the standard 60-watt bulbs at various places around the church, as well as the spotlights in the Fellowship Hall and here in the sanctuary.  In addition to being much better for the environment by not using nearly as much electricity (thus burning less coal at the energy plant), our calculations suggest that the church will save as much as $600 a year on lighting expenses alone.

Second, beginning with this Sunday’s bulletin and this month’s Grapevine, we are switching to recycled paper in the church office.  Our mailings and other publications will follow suit.  For the most part, you’ll know we’re using recycled paper when you see the logo “Printed on Recycled Paper,” like the one on the back of today’s bulletin.

Third, we are beginning today an in-church recycling program of paper, plastics, magazines, aluminum cans and glass.  You’ll notice special marked blue containers at various points around the church.  All church members will be asked to use these bins for recyclables generated here at the church – bulletins you aren’t taking home with you, soda cans after a fellowship meal (and after you rinse them out, of course), just to name a few examples.  The staff will also use these bins during the week for paper office products, junk mail and catalogs.

To help with the recyclables, we are looking for volunteers to serve on what is being called the “Green Team.”  Twice a month, someone from this group will take the church’s recyclables to the recycling center here in Mount Airy.  We hope to get at least twelve people on the team so each person would only have to do this twice a year.  If you are interested in serving on the “Green Team,” please plan on signing up on the sign-up sheet down the hall after worship.

And finally, we are encouraging all church members to “go green” in their own homes.  You’ll find a handout in the bulletin this morning that gives you some very simple, practical steps on how to do this.  Take this home with you today and, if you would, make time in the coming week to read it with your family.  As you’ll see, it doesn’t involve anything terribly complicated or even expensive.  All it really takes is the willingness to acquire a new set of habits and routines in your home.

Friends, this is how our church, and hopefully its members as well, will “go green” in this year of celebration!  And you know what the really great thing about all of this is?  We’re not just “believing” that it’s good to take care of God’s earth.  We’re not just thinking that it’s a nice thing to do.  We’re actually doing something about it as a people of faith!  We’re following Jesus; following his lead as he reminds us that having dominion over the earth means you and I have been given an incredible responsibility – and an incredible opportunity – to be the caretakers of this world that we were always intended to be.  So let’s all “go green:” not even though we’re Christians, but because we’re Christians.  Thanks be to God, AMEN.

BILDAD HAS HIS SAY.....AGAIN

Job 8: 1-10
Steve Lindsley
October 12, 2008

I don't get it. I just don't get it! Why didn't he listen to me? Why didn't he believe in what I was saying?

I guess I should probably tell you who I am. My name is Bildad – yeah, great name, huh? I doubt you know much about me; not many people do. That's kind of why I'm here. You probably know me better as “one of Job's friends” - I bet that rings a bell, eh? There were two others, Zophar and Eliphaz. And like me, they also are dumbfounded about what happened to the guy, and why he doesn't see things the way we do. I mean, it's so obvious, to us at least, why all that bad stuff happened to him.

See, I know Job about as well as anyone. We go back a long ways, Job and me. We went to grade school together; we used to play games every afternoon with some of the other guys. We went to each other's birthday parties, we hung out all the time.

We also grew up in the faith together – attending Hebrew school as any good Jewish boy. We studied the Torah and learned all the great stories of our faith – Abraham and Sarah; Joseph and Moses; Deborah and King David. We would engage in these wonderful conversations about God and how just God was, and how God looked out for God's people and protected those who were faithful. Man, we had some great talks.

When Job got married, I was the best man in his wedding. When his first baby came along, I got to hold him. Our families used to hang out all the time; our children would play together just like we did when we were kids. We worshiped together every sabbath; and sometimes late at nights the two of us would slip out unnoticed and meet up to talk about God and our faith, like we used to, and how God worked in our world and how we could serve God. And I'll tell you this – I knew no man finer than Job. A family man, an honest businessman, a person of great faith – they don't make them any better than Job. I was glad to call him my friend.

I still am glad – don't get me wrong. It's just that things.....well, things change, as they always do – and boy, did things change for Job. You know those people who suddenly and without warning have their entire life literally unravel before them? That's what happened to Job – within a matter of weeks. It's a horrible story, and you'll probably find it just as hard to believe and accept as I did.

First, within a matter of hours, Job lost his entire livestock – the source of his family's income. Oxen and donkeys were killed by some Arabian nomads. A freak fire accident took out all of his sheep. The Babylonians disposed of his camels. In one single day, Job lost his ability to generate a living for his family – and a mighty fine living it had been. He was permanently out of a job.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Not too long after that - the very next day, in fact – there was this strong storm that passed through our area. It took the roof off the house where his children lived and it crashed it to the ground. Everyone inside was killed instantly. I mean, I can't imagine losing one child, but all of your children – that's just unbearable. And as if that wasn't enough, the day after that he suddenly came down with these horrible, painful boils that ravaged every inch of his body. And they wouldn't go away.

So in just a couple of days, Job went from being a successful businessman, a content father, and a pillar of the community to bankrupt and out of a job, a grieving parent with no children left, and an outcast. I had been out of town when all of this happened, but when I got back a day or two later and heard about it, my heart just sank. I couldn't believe such a horrible thing would ever happen to a guy like Job. I mean, some people, you kind of see it coming, you know? But not Job. Not him. It tore me up to know that my good friend was in such agony – so the first chance I got, I went to him.

Over the course of the next few weeks I had some conversations with Job. I wasn't the only one either – Zophar and Eliphaz were trying to talk some sense into him as well. The three of us met with him individually and tried to be of help. But the thing was, Job didn't want it. In fact, I found our friendship tested more than ever before – because Job was......well, he was just stubborn! That's the only way I can explain it. It kind of ticked me off, to be honest – here I was, trying to help out my good friend who had lost everything. And yet he wouldn't have any of it.

I mean, all I was doing was trying to help him make sense of the unsensible; trying to give some meaning and structure to the chaos that had become his life. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? When something bad happens to you; when you encounter some hardship or tragedy, when the economy's going all haywire or things seem so discombobulated, what's the first thing you ask yourself? WHY? That's what you think! Why is this happening to me? Why am I going through this? Heck, I wasn't even Job and I was wondering that myself!

See, I'm one who believes that our world, as crazy as it is sometimes, has a rhyme and reason to it. We may not always sense that rhyme and reason, but it's there, lurking beneath the surface; and it keeps everything in this crazy universe from totally falling apart. Personally I identify that force as “God,” and specifically the God of my ancestors Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

I have been brought up to believe – as Job has – that this rhyme and reason plays itself out in our daily lives. And in many ways it comes back to our faithfulness to God. Those who are faithful to God receive God's blessings, and those who are not faithful have to deal with the consequences. That's what I believe our faith tells us – and I'm not alone in this. It's how a lot of people see the world.

Now you may think this sounds old-fashioned or “out-of-date,” but I'm here to tell you – you know exactly what I'm talking about. Just the other day, someone was telling me about a movie of yours; fairly popular in your generation. I think it's called, The Sound of Music. I'm told there's this scene near the end where that lady Maria and Captain Von-whatever finally admit their love for one another. And they're in the courtyard, being all lovey-dovey and stuff; and she's singing this soft beautiful song. And there's this refrain that she keeps repeating over and over again. I bet you know it: Cause somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.

See? That's what I'm talking about! She finally found the love of her life, and she assumed it was because at some previous point she had done something tremendous – so this love was a “reward.'' We're thinking along similar lines, you see? And the same thing goes for the flip side: that if you encounter some horrible catastrophe.....well, I guess Maria's song would've been something like, Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must've done something bad.

And that's exactly what I told Job in our times together, and tried to get him to see. We all tried. We tried to explain that, hard as it may be to understand, there must have been some reason; some major breach in his past that led to all of this – the total unraveling of his life. And if it wasn't him directly, then maybe, maybe his kids had done something, you know? It's just like they say: what goes around, comes around.

Man, I tried to get him to see this, hoping maybe he'd remember something he'd tried long and hard to forget. And if he did that, then maybe he could make things right. That's why I said to him:

If you will seek God and make supplication to the Almighty,
if you are pure and upright,
surely then he will rouse himself for you and restore to you your rightful place.

I thought I said it quite well, actually. But you know what? It didn't make a bit of difference. It didn't matter what I said – he wasn't buying it. All that we had been brought up to believe and trust in all those years – he was throwing it out the window.

So now I'm stuck with my own “why” question: why is Job being this stubborn? Why is he holding on to another belief that, frankly, doesn't make a lick of sense? He tried to explain it to me, but I'm telling you – it's really hard to follow. See, Job admits that some things in your past do affect your future. If all you eat every day is something from one of your fast-food restaurants, your body will pay a price. If you consistently ignore stop signs when driving you're bound to have a wreck at some point. Those kinds of “cause-and-effect” scenarios made sense to Job, as they do to all of us.

But Job doesn't think the same thing applies when it comes to the larger stage of life. For him, the good times are not necessarily rewards for something previously done well, just as calamities are not punishments. Okay, I would tell him, but if that's the case then it takes all the certainty out of life. We don't know why anything happens then – why good things happen or bad things happen. And Job would always say – and he'd stare at me through his tortured eyes, Bad things happen to people, Bildad, whether the people are good or bad.

I'm still trying to make sense of what Job said, but it's so hard.....it's so hard to get my hands around. And you understand that, don't you? You understand why it's hard to believe that sometimes there isn't a good enough explanation for the way things are? Some people think Job's just crazy, and sometimes I do too. But you know, there are other times where I catch glimpses of what he says. Because even though Job knew that his life was rotten and that he had gotten a wrong deal, even when he questioned God about his situation and asked that dangerous question “WHY,” even during all of that, Job believed in something radical. Job believed in grace – the idea that people can receive something for nothing; that faith is not something we earn but something we live; that life is not always about cause and effect but about living and responding.

And for Job that grace came to him not in what was happening in his life – certainly not that! - but in how he responded to everything. Sure he wondered why this had happened to him – who wouldn't? Sure he was down and depressed. But he kept on believing, kept on clinging to God, even if he was kicking and screaming. And most of all, Job never believed that there was a reason for what had happened to him. Job never bought into the mentality that he had something to deserve all of this. Despite what my friends and I said, Job held fast to the belief that bad things happen to all kinds of people, and that people of faith demonstrate their faithfulness in how they respond.

I haven't talked to Job in a while – I find it kind of hard to talk to him these days. I hear things have actually taken a turn for the better for ol' Job and that he's getting his life back together. Kind of reminds me of the joke in your days: what happens when you play a country song backwards? You get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back....

But even so, I don't think Job's life will ever be the same. How could it be? And I'll let you in on a little something: my life won't ever be the same either. After talking to Job, I'm having serious doubts about what I've always believed. I see Job stubbornly clinging onto the notion of a God who loves him; a God who celebrates when the going's good and holds him close when the storms come. I see this and I think maybe, just maybe it's the same for me too.

Maybe I should go and have another chat with my buddy Job. But this time, I think I'll let him do the talking. Thanks be to God, AMEN.

DO NOT FEAR!

(Note to readers: We had a guest preacher this past Sunday, so I don't have a "new" sermon to post.  However, I thought it would be appropriate to post an older sermon of mine; one I preached prior to starting this blog.  I wrote this sermon during the combative primary election season of the spring/summer.  As we enter the final month of the presidential campaign and are once again forced to endure "fear-mongering" by political campaigns, I felt this message was once again appropriate.

I make reference in the sermon to a number of faxes the church received that used fear tactics to malign one particular candidate.  It's not in the text, but I actually received one of these faxes the very morning I was to deliver the sermon.  I took it with me into the pulpit and, after making my point, tore it up in front of the congregation!  They weren't expecting this, and to be honest neither was I.  One of those "spontaneous" things.  Spirit-driven, perhaps?

Whatever the case, take the sermon for what it's worth in our presidential election/crumbling economy situation.)

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Isaiah 43: 1-4; John 14: 1-6, 25-27
Steve Lindsley
May 4, 2008

What are you afraid of?  That question was posed to a group of football players in the 2000 movie The Replacements.  The real players had gone on strike, and teams were stocked with second-rate players who just the week before were working in grocery stores or factories or – in one case – in prison.  The head coach, played by Gene Hackman, was faced with the daunting task of uniting a motley group of misfits into a cohesive team in a matter of weeks.

What are you afraid of?  He asked the question at a team meeting, hoping it would stir players to dig deep into their personal and collective psyches, to the heart of what was ailing this rag-tag group of wannabees.  He asked the question in hopes that, through admitting their deepest fears, they could conquer them, get beyond them, and realize their full potential as a football team

A 300-plus pound, former sumo wrestler offensive lineman named Franklin was the first to speak up: Spiders, he said, I’m scared to death of spiders.  Another player nodded his head, and a third chimed in: Yeah, spiders creep me out too, man!  Hackman shook his head in disgust: No, no, I’m talking about on the football field.  What are you afraid of on the football field?  Franklin, with a quizzical look, offered, Spiders on the football field? 

And when it seemed as if this little pep talk was ending before it begun, Falco the quarterback raised his hand.  I’m afraid of quicksand, he said, but not the way you think.  See, you’re playing football.  You think everything is going fine... but then one thing goes wrong... and then another... and another.  And you try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink.  Until you can't move, you can't breathe, because you're in over your head.  He shrugged and said, Like quicksand.

The head coach smiled, and the conversation took off from there – and one by one the players shared how they were deathly afraid of messing up this second chance at a career in professional football, one they’d only dreamed of.  A successful team meeting, as they went on to win some football games.

Well, listen – I’m not all that afraid of spiders; and I’d probably be afraid of quicksand if I ever got in some, but there are other things I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid of stepping into this pulpit on Sunday morning without a sermon – I have nightmares about that one every so often.  I’m afraid of not being the best parent or spouse I can be.  I’m afraid of rising gas prices and lost jobs and food shortages and how these things make it even harder for those living on the financial edge.  I’m afraid of how much longer we’ll continue to lose fine young women and men, like our own Adam Marion, in Iraq. 
We all are afraid of something, and it starts early.  A few months ago I was stirred to consciousness late one night by our eldest, who in a hushed but slightly panicked voice informed me that there were, in fact, monsters in his closet.  In my sleep-deprived state I offered the typical parental response: there were no such things as monsters and he could go back to bed rest assured.  This did not do a whole lot to convince him.  So together we stumbled down the hall to his room, turned the light on and inspected the closet ourselves.  No monsters – so we pronounced an “all clear” and returned to our respective beds, and eventually sleep.

As we grow into adulthood our fears change to other monsters in the closet.  And rarely do we talk openly about those fears of ours, perhaps because we don’t want anyone to get concerned or worried – especially ourselves.  In our country’s recent history, 9-11 is perhaps the most prominent instance where we, as a collective group, came face to face with our greatest fear.  When those towers fell, it shattered our innocence and opened our eyes to see the hate and violence and anger that most of the rest of the world had seen long before us.  Nowadays our fears are many: recession, terrorism, insecurity, apathy, just to name a very few.  And so we go running into God’s room in the middle of the night to tell God about the monsters in our closet.  Kind of funny, isn’t it – not much has changed.

You know, I would venture to guess that Jesus sensed that his disciples were at that same sort of place.  It shouldn’t surprise us, really.  It was the night before Jesus was crucified; and although they didn’t know that’s where things were heading, they sensed something was up.  There was just a different “feel” in the air that evening.  What began as an innocent meal among friends quickly turned into chaos and uncertainty.  When Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, as John tells it – well, that’s when they really started to wonder.  And when they saw Judas leave them and later learned why, it was all too much.  Something bad was about to happen and their time together as rabbi and followers was quickly coming to an end.

So in his rather long speech to his disciples – it goes on for three whole chapters – Jesus offers these words:   

Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself – so that where I am, there you may be also.

Now I like these words of Jesus.  You may have heard them read at a funeral perhaps; a time when the fear of death can get a grip on us.   Jesus, though, wants to tell us something quite different: that death does not have the last word, and that fear of any kind never can separate us from the ones we love or from God.  Because it’s not the “where” of this place that Jesus prepares that really matters – it’s more of the “who.”  Do not let your hearts be troubled is God speaking directly to our hearts, for any occasion, for any fear that life can throw at us.

But here’s the thing – it is not about God getting rid of the fear – that’s not what Jesus is talking about here and that’s not what this sermon is about.  See, I don’t think Jesus ever envisioned a life on earth where you and I are free from pain and hardship and things to be fearful about.  Lord knows Jesus knew all about life’s difficulties in his 33 years!  The truth of the gospel is that Jesus never promised us a pain-free existence.  God never said that he would take all our fears and make them disappear.  God simply said that he would make a place for us where we can bring those fears to him and be comforted.

Some believe – and I would tend to agree – that this “place” he speaks of is right here – in the community of faith.  For it is in the presence of fellow brothers and sisters in Christ that you and I can confide our fears, share them with one another, renewed for service in and through them.  And I have to think that’s precisely what Jesus was trying to say to his disciples that night; his very last night with them: saying, I’m sending someone to take care of you, called the Holy Spirit.  But don’t ever forget that I want you to take care of one another. 

And let me tell you, that’s a very good thing, my friends.  It’s a very good thing that we have each other.  Because the fact of the matter is that you and I don’t just live in a world of fear; you and I live in a culture that is unashamedly obsessed with fear.  Fear-mongering, it’s sometimes called – when fear is used to coerce people into doing what you want them to do.  Promising them the worst, so they can give you their best.

Where is this in our world today?  Where is it not!  I think of factions of the church that twist the words of the Bible, like the book of Revelation, to “scare” people to Jesus.  I think of the horrible stigma placed on people who are different from us, just because of what they believe or what they wear on their heads or what their lifestyle is or what disease may be flowing through their veins.  And especially in this season of election, I think of three faxes our church and other churches have received over the past month – faxes with no names or contact numbers – suggesting that a vote for a particular candidate in this year’s presidential election is a vote for an “apostate”, is a vote against the will of God, and is a vote that would lead to the complete deterioration of the Christian church and American society.

What is going on??   I mean, these sorts of things have always been with us, but they seem to have crystallized and taken on a sense of urgency in our post 9-11 world.  In his book The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus, Harvard religion professor Peter Gomes had this to say:

Perhaps the greatest tragedy of September 11th, 2001…..is not the loss of the human lives or the buildings, tragic as those losses were and painful as they are to recall.  The greatest tragedy may be that we have since been programmed to live by our fears and not by our hopes.  Once we were a people defined by our compassions; today we are more and more a people defined by our fears.  And to be defined by our fears is to accept the lowest possible level of emotional intelligence. [from The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus by Peter Gomes (New York: HarperOne, 2007), 104, 106]

This twisting and abuse of fear is not just tragic and wrong.  It is unbiblical.  Hundreds of years before Jesus promised his anxious disciples a dwelling place, God’s people were devastated by the destruction of Jerusalem and the holy temple, carted off to live in Babylonian exile.  It was an unrivaled emotional and spiritual obliteration, and many of them felt as if God had hung them out to dry.

It would’ve been so easy for the people to succumb to their fears and respond in like kind.  It would’ve been easy for those in power to use their circumstances to sway God’s chosen for their own purposes.  And yet, to this horrible situation the prophet Isaiah delivered God’s radical and unwavering message: DO NOT FEAR.  Why?  Because God goes with you into the unknown, into the devastation.  Why?  Because God is God; and God is your God.  Why?  Because more than anything else, more than anything else in the world, God loves you.  God loves you and will never leave you.  So Do Not Fear.

Fifty-eight times in the Bible, God says these three words, loud and clear.  Fifty-eight times, God implores the faithful not to be misguided by their fear, not to have their life dictated by what Gomes eloquently calls the “absence of courage” and the “poverty of imagination.”  Fifty-eight times, God proposes a radical alternative – to replace fear with hope, hate with love, prejudice with acceptance, indifference with compassion, judgment with forgiveness.  This is what God said to his people thousands of years ago; and this is what God still says to us today.

I’ll be honest with you – I’m tired of all of this.  We all are tired of it!  We are tired of fear ruling our lives and our world.  We are tired of people using fear to get their way with us for their own gain.  We are tired of the faithful, time and time again, succumbing to fear when the very foundation of our beliefs calls us to something else entirely.

So let us do something else entirely, shall we?  Let us re-imagine and remake our lives so that fear is replaced with hope and compassion.  Let us live into the beauty and promise of a world that is guided by its possibilities instead of its pitfalls.  Let us embody a church that stands against the power of fear, and for the hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  And most of all, let us not allow those in our world to tell us what their fear can do to us; let us tell them – and show them – what God’s love can do for everyone.

Because maybe, just maybe, those ol’ monsters in the closet won’t seem as bad as we sometimes make them out to be, you know? Thanks be to God.  AMEN.