Sunday, September 28, 2008

Miracles in the Desert

Is God here or not?

There is this story about some people of faith who are rescued by God. God gives them a way out of slavery and they take it – ending up on a journey to find a new beginning. Unfortunately, along the way, they discover they are not as ready for new life as they thought.

They are still holding on to the past, they cannot let go of the pain, they don’t really know what to do next... and so they have a little bit of trouble ending the journey. In fact, they spend a whole lot of time looking backwards.

This is the human condition isn’t it? If only I could repeat high school knowing what I know now (Youth is wasted on the young) If only I hadn’t of sold that house or taken that job, or made those choices... We spend a whole lot of our lives looking backwards – and it makes it pretty hard to go forwards.

Psychologists call it the immigrant problem... We think all of our problems will be solved if we can get away from here and try something new – but as soon as we get to the new place we think that it was better where we were. It applies to big and little changes, even the lane we choose for the toll booth.

Another way to put it is “The grass is always greener...”

So we live in this place – looking backwards – looking forwards – and stuck with the fact that most things don’t work out the way we expect them to.

We try and try to make things right – we complain about each thing that stands in our way – did you bring us out of Egypt to have us drown in the sea – to starve to death – to die of thirst? Every few days, as soon as one crisis is over, the people lose track, lose faith that they are doing the right thing and wonder if they should go back.

I am sure most of us can relate to this. Have you ever considered changing jobs, towns, careers? Have you ever left a relationship, or began one... When we find ourselves in a time of change we have doubts, we have questions, and we have fears. When sickness or tragedy strikes, when things seem too good to be true – we end up asking “Is God here or not?”

I think that the Israelites in the desert are essentially the same as us – we have faith; but when it comes right down to it and we are confronted with the harsh reality of life – we doubt God is real. In the desert moments of our own life we often think that we are facing it alone.

And Moses comes up with as many ways to say “yes” as the people come up with ways of asking the question. No matter what they say, no matter what the complaint – Moses turns it around and shows them that God is there. Can’t cross the ocean? God will part it. Can’t drink the water? God will purify it. Can’t find anything to eat? God will provide Quail. Can’t find water? God will make it pour forth from a rock.

I have never taken this literally. I have never known God to provide gasoline when my car reads “E” or a snack when I am feeling peckish – but figuratively, I have always found that God is there in my real day to day living... We forget sometimes and need reminding, that is what these stories are about.

Notice that the key to the whole water from the rock story is God’s statement: “I will go and stand on the rock – and then you will see the water.” It is a story about the very real presence of God.

I can’t help but throw in a Mount Royal church illustration. Everything in the world is changing at breakneck speed – and the churches in Moncton are changing.

Humphrey’s had a meeting last week to decide whether to “stay or go” ... Mountain View is having a meeting in 6 weeks to decide what they should do next...

We are beginning the very real and necessary step of taking the bull by the horns – so to speak and be proactive about our future. Because the truth is that God is here, standing on the rock, calling us to journey confidently into the future.

A couple of thousand years after Moses, Paul writes to the church in Philippi and quotes then what would have been a familiar hymn: which says my beloved church, with all your problems and worries – make my joy complete and believe that God is with you, was with you in Christ, is working in you now...

Listen to the end of this passage – “Work with fear and trembling to discover what it means to be saved – for it is God who is working from within to make all of this possible.”

That is what we are called to have faith in. We are called to understand that God is at work within our lives and our community to bring the world closer and closer to what it was meant to be. When we begin to let go of ourselves and see God in the equation – things that at one time seemed impossible are all of a sudden possible - which is one definition of a miracle.

In a very real sense this is what Jesus was all about. He lived as if he believed God was present – that the kingdom of God was “now!” to use his theology. Everything he did brought God’s way to the surface.

And when asked, “B y what authority are you doing this?” he did not even have to answer... Wasn’t God standing right there on the rock in front of them? Did they not recognize God’s will being done?

Do we?

Monday, September 22, 2008

Equality and Fairness

I would like to suggest to you that there are two ways of seeing the world that we all pride ourselves on – two ways of seeing the world that sound totally true, and right – two ways of seeing the world that stop us from understanding the Gospel according to Jesus.

The first is a sense of equality. We believe in equal rights, equal pay for equal work, and equal opportunity for all. The second is a great love of the underdog. Every movie, book, sports game, relies on the fact that we all hope the little person makes good. We all like a good “rags to riches” success story – especially when the powers that be get their just desserts.

Am I right? We all would like to think the world is fair and that we get what we deserve.

But along comes Jesus and turns all of our preconceived notions about how things work upside down. No matter what is happening Jesus is always talking about grace and reward as if we will receive God’s grace without having to earn it – and that what we do to deserve it makes little or no difference. It’s a tough pill to swallow.

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to bad people? Why do innocent children die? Why should I get sick when I’ve lived a good life? In many ways when we ask questions like this we are asking the exact same thing as the vineyard workers who bore the brunt of the day ask – why shouldn’t we get paid more, having worked, two-three-four times as hard as these late comers?

Jesus answers, because God is not like that.

And this is not the only time Jesus says something like this. Remember the parable we call the “Prodigal Son” which is really a parable about the love of a father for a lost son? Well have you ever considered that parable from the point of view of the older brother? He stays behind, he works day and night for his father, he gives up the better part of his life for the family farm – and his father has never so much as given him a goat to party it up with his friends. How does he feel about the whole return of the prodigal? And isn’t he right to feel that way? Doesn’t he deserve more love, more credit, more money than the upstart younger brother who squandered it all away on wine women and song?

But remember, God is not like that.

Where we often get off track in Jesus parables is by choosing the wrong people to relate to – we think of ourselves as the younger brother, or the older brother, or the indebted servant, or the workers who were there in the morning or the workers who were hired last – the only person we never see ourselves as is the person we are meant to understand ourselves to be... The owner... the father... the king... God.
Jesus came on the scene with a message about who God was, what God was like, and then told us, his followers, that we should conform ourselves to God. A fancy way of saying – God wants you to act in the exact same way. So God is like a loving father, a forgiving king, a gracious landowner; and so should we be.

Once upon a time there was a rich young man, do you remember him? He came up to Jesus and said, hey, I want to follow you too. I want to live the perfect, godly life... what do I have to do. And Jesus said, “Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor...” and he said hmmm...

But clearly Jesus wasn’t kidding. Here he is, telling a story in which the owner of the vineyard does go out and give all his money to the poor. This is the secret to happiness, the secret to eternal life, the secret to doing what God wants you to do – give... share... treat everyone, from the first to the last the same regardless of how much you think they do or don’t deserve it. I know it sounds ridiculous and impossible at times; but I think we really do need to come to grips with the fact that this is what Jesus expected of his followers.

You see, here is where the rubber meets the road. Faith requires us to change our way of seeing the world. And for you and me what this means is that we have to understand that anyone, anywhere... the person who cuts us off, the person who makes fun of us, the person who gets welfare, the person addicted to drugs, the person who cheats us out of our money, the person who votes differently, the person who has a different sexuality from us, the person who is exactly the same as us, the person from a different country, the person who is disabled... God loves each and every one of them equally, and so should we.

Grace doesn't come in sizes. I don't get more for wearing a collar or going to church ever since I was born. I don't get less for all the times I have doubted or decided to rely on me rather than God. God calls everyone and gives us all God's g
grace.

Don’t get me wrong, I am no better at this than anyone else. But that does not mean that it is not what we are supposed to do. It is ultimately our responsibility to take care of each other, and this world – and even though we fall far short from the ideal of what God expects – Because we are created in God’s image, because we are meant to try and reflect God’s values in our living, because ultimately it is God’s way and not ours that should win out... God still expects more.

Good thing there is grace eh? Those of us who come late to the game, those of us who spend most of our lives taking care of ourselves and finally realize we have to share, well, God still loves us too.

Monday, September 15, 2008

On Forgiveness

As I mentioned in church this week I started a sermon - wrote about half of it (in an unfinished sort of way) and then read a sermon by William Willemon. Now serving as a United Methodist Bishop, formerly the chaplain of the Duke University Chapel and one of America's best known preachers... I am going to post my sermon first, his second... What I preached was made up heavily of his sermon playing in my head.

- Brett's Original Direction -

Dear Abby... My babysitter just stole some jewellery from the vanity for the seventh time. How many times should I forgive her? Hopeful in Seattle.

Dear hopeful... the quick arithmetic for that sort of situation is 70 times 7 times... You have a long way to go. Just hang in there.

How is that for some advice? Sound like something you might do? Not really eh... truth is, this is one of those “hard sayings” of Jesus – the type of thing that might be good in theory, but that jsut does not seem that practical... after all, we would run out of jewellery.

So what do you believe about forgiveness? Because this is one of those rubber hits the road elements of faith. As Christians we are the ones who model God’s love – in all of its exasperating difficulty. And the Bible is chalk full of examples of forgiveness being one of our chief virtues.

Take for example the prodigal son, a parable about the love of a father that overcomes every barrier the son can throw up; or how about the whole “turn the other cheek” advice of Jesus. In the Older Testament we have God forgiving the people of Ninevah, much to Jonah’s dismay. Saul forgives David and David forgive Saul so many times that the original monarchy of Israel begins to seem sort of like a soap opera.

To be honest, we have often missed the point of some of these stories. And that might be part of the reason we have such a hard time with forgiveness. But I’ll get back to that.

For now let me concentrate on the kernel of truth at the heart of all this – which is that God believes in forgiveness. Or to put it in a less anthropological way – for life to be lived the way it is supposed to be, requires forgiveness.

The Old Testament scholar Gerhard von Rad once wrote: “Real forgiveness is not a purely interpersonal matter, but it reaches deeply into the relationship of men before God.”

In other words – it is deeper than we think. Forgiveness matters because it defines who we are, and what we are, and how we live.

So Peter comes to Jesus with a practical question - “How often should I forgive?” and Jesus responds with “Not seven times, but I tell you seventy times seven times.”
Trust me, it is not because Jesus was a wimp – there is absolutely never a story



Archbishop Desmond Tutu, retired Anglican bishop of South Africa and formerly chairman of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, says to forgive goes beyond the unselfish devotion to the cause of others. He adds, “to forgive is a process that does not exclude hate and anger. These emotions are all part of being human.” Tutu continues, “You should never hate yourself for hating others who do terrible things; the depth of your love is shown by the extent of your anger.” This great Anglican humanitarian and spiritual pioneer reminds us of our responsibilities. Tutu stresses that, “When I talk of forgiveness, I mean the belief that you can come out the other side a better person. A better person than the one being consumed by anger and hatred.” Until we find in ourselves the capacity to forgive, we continue to be linked to the cause of our anger and our unforgiving emotions. Only as we forgive are we able to move on and become the more Christ-like person that God has called us to be.


- William Willemon's Original Sermon -


I break one of the cardinal rules of homiletics in this sermon. That rule is: never talk about your trips - nobody cares. But as I studied our text in Matthew I remembered something that happened to me in Stirling, Scotland several years ago. Stirling is northeast of Edinburgh and is the gateway to the Scottish highlands. This is where Robert the Bruce fought to gain Scotland's independence in 1314. The movie Braveheart told that story. It is a beautiful city dominated by a wonderful castle high on a hill overlooking the whole city. Near the castle is the Church of the Holy Rude. In case you're wondering Holy Rude was a medieval term for the Cross of Christ's crucifixion.

This church dates back to the 12th century. The present building was constructed in the 15th century. Mary Queen of Scots was crowned there in 1543. Prince Henry was christened in this church in 1594. James VI was crowned king in that room. As we stood in the sanctuary the guide said: "Do you see the brick line there?" He pointed to a line from floor to ceiling right down the middle sides of the church. "This was one of our most painful stories. During the turbulent 17th century when there were so many religious and political troubles, the congregation was split into factions. An extreme and bigoted Presbyterian pastor, James Guthrie, refused to accept his more moderate colleague. After trying to resolve the conflict for a long time, the town council finally solved the problem by building a wall across the church between the west pillars of the crossing. They did this in 1656. One church became two separate churches, the east and the west. They worshipped back to back from 1656 until 1936. One altar was at one end of the church and a second altar at the other end. In 1936 the wall was removed and the church was reunited. But for 280 years they worshipped in a divided manner."

I looked up at the scars where the bricks had finally come down. I thought about the church I have known and served from its beginning until now. All those divisions in that little band of 12 he called: Peter, James, and John, and then the others. Peter was loudmouthed and impetuous. James and John wanted to be in charge. Judas, the treasurer - well you know that story. Standing there in that 800-year-old church, I thought about all the jealousies and the jockeying for power from then until now.

The splits and divisions between Peter and Paul and Apollos were merely a prelude to the multitude of hassles, struggles over doctrine, and disposition and personalities we still contend with.

I thought about church history standing there. The storms had raged in that very building. When the Protestants went on a rampage and smashed statues and windows and tore great art from the walls and left them bare and ugly. I thought about the heresies and the holy wars and all the fighting we have done in the name of God since our beginnings until this very time. There is not a major denomination in this country that is not having serious trouble today.

What are we to do with our frailties? We do what Christians have been doing in worship since our beginnings. We open the book and listen closely. Those early Christians were realists. When they took the stories about the life of Jesus and pieced them together, the church was young and green and struggling. They were beset by a multitude of conflicts. They sometimes wondered if the road they traveled was just too hard. Rome pressed down on them. Culture twisted them. The Jews gave them a difficult time. There were sexual and ethical problems aplenty. It was a mess. And this is why the early church put together the documents that we now know as the Gospels. One of the things Matthew wanted to do was help the struggling church find its way through choppy waters. Those early believers were hungry for help on how they might create and sustain real community. So Matthew's Gospel provided direction to help the church maintain a meaningful fellowship in a hard time.

What is the glue that holds this thing we call church together? What is it that keeps the walls down or at least tears the walls down once they've gone up? What is it that moves us down the road without killing off each other?

Today's text from Matthew gives us our answer. Simon Peter came to Jesus in Matthew 18. He was the spokesperson. He was strong, opinionated, and a little pushy. He was smart and what we might call a man's man. Jesus had already talked about who was greatest in his kingdom. Become like a child, he had said. Jesus told them not to put a stumbling block between any of the weak ones. They were to help one another. Do not despise, he said, any of the little ones. Be like the shepherd who went out after the one lost stupid, stubborn sheep. The sheep shouldn't have run off. He should never have gotten lost. But Jesus said we have to go after him. And if one member of the church sins against you - get this - sins against you - you have to do something about it. You have to reconcile. You have to get together. You can't just sit there puffed up. You have to do something about the brick walls between you.

Peter heard Jesus. He took that whole conversation to heart. The Lord's words were about greatness and about helping the weak ones. The story was about the one lost sheep that wandered away and got into serious trouble. He heard Jesus' words about reconciliation. He thought about those he had bumped heads with. He must have remembered the faces of those that despised him. Jesus' words made him remember again all the troubles he had known because of church.

This is all background to our text. "Then Peter came and said to him, 'Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven.'"(Mt 18:21-22)

How often should I forgive someone who has sinned against me? Notice what Peter said. "How often should I forgive someone who has hurt me?" He decided to be generous. Seven times, Lord? The rabbis always said to forgive someone three times. That's going more than the second mile. But if someone offends me, trips me up, makes me lose my job, or just cheats and lies and just makes life miserable for me - how often should I forgive them? Seven times, asks Peter. Wouldn't that be great, Lord?

It was quiet for a moment. Jesus answered his old impetuous friend. Peter, not seven times but 70 times seven. And the Bible says that Simon Peter got out his calculator and began to multiply it and looked up with his mouth wide open. Lord, that's 490 times! And Matthew put this story in his document to help a very troubled church by saying this is the only way you are going to survive. Seventy times seven.

This reminds me of a cartoon that came out years ago. It dealt with the prodigal son. The father was going down the road to meet his boy and the caption reads: "I'll be glad when this boy grows up; this is the sixth fatted calf I have had to kill."

Peter would certainly understand the old man's frustration. Simon just stood there with his calculator. He checked it again. Seventy times seven equals 490 times. We're supposed to forgive 490 separate times? It isn't in the text but I can almost hear Jesus tenderly saying: "Simon, put away your calculator. It isn't about math. It isn't about score keeping. Forgiveness is an attitude, a way of life, Peter - it's a matter of the heart."

Matthew envisioned the Christian church as some kind of laboratory where we learn to forgive, the place where we hammer out these hard things between us. I remember years ago a sermon entitled: "We Learn to Fight Like Christians in the Church so that we can Fight Like Christians in the World." Ever watch some of those town hall meetings about some problem in the community? People are just furious, red-faced, sitting there all puffed up, saying the ugliest things to their neighbors or to the officials who have come to explain things. It reminds me of some church business meetings I have been to through the years. We in the church have not done a very good job of dealing with forgiveness and reconciliation. And this is to be one of the differentiating points between Christians and the rest of the world.

Four hundred and ninety times, Peter says - 490? And Jesus nods his head. And 490 times does not mean to keep a record. It does mean that forgiveness is a way of life and never some isolated, occasional act of heroism. Forgiveness, then, is the constant homework of Christians. Unfinished business, always.

Who is it you cannot forgive? Who is it that hurt you so bad? They may be dead but the power of that hurt still lingers. They could easily sit week after week on the pew in front of you. When Simon said: Should I forgive seven times, Jesus shook his head. Seventy times seven. But Jesus, you don't understand. She broke my heart. She just dragged every feeling I have through the gravel pile. She betrayed me. Seventy times seven. But he tore up my life. He lied through his teeth and I lost this job and life has never been quite right since. Seventy times seven. But you don't understand how it is. He abused me for years on end. I still carry the scars. I can't let it go. Seventy times seven. You don't know how they hurt my daddy. Good man. Decent human being. Best pastor I ever met. And they just broke his heart. I can't go back to church. Seventy times seven.

The story goes that when the Civil War ended a group gathered outside the White House and President Lincoln came out to say a few words to the crowd. It was a great time of celebration. A band was there. The President talked briefly about the horrors of war and then he joked a little because he had a keen sense of humor. The people were delighted and exuberant that they had won the war that had been going on for four years. Lincoln talked about how important it was to get back together and heal the nation's wounds and let brothers and sisters join each other once again. Then he said, "In a few moments, I want the band to play and I am going to tell them what I want them to play."

The crowd thought he would get them to play "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" that had become their theme song. But Mr. Lincoln said, "I wonder if we, in winning the war, have the right now to play the music again . . . if maybe that's not appropriate." That should have been a clue to what he was going to say. Because he turned to the band and said, "Now this is what I want you to play - I want you to play Dixie." The band almost dropped their instruments. For a minute they just stood there with the crowd openmouthed. They looked at one another. They didn't have the music to Dixie. They hadn't played Dixie for quite a while. Then after a long pause the band finally got together and they played Dixie. There was not a dry eye in the crowd.

When we forgive we play music we never thought we could play and sing songs we thought we could never sing. This really is one of the great distinguishing marks of the church. Seventy times seven. Forgiving seventy times seven. Quite a song! Quite a song! And what a rare and wonderful church it makes.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Telling the Story

What is your story? I know I have asked something like this before... but really... what brings you here today? Think about it a second...

(Pause)

You see everyone has a story. Our church has a story – it was founded 59 years ago and this year we will be remembering some of that. Our town has a story, founded by Amish folks coming up from Pennsylvania. And our faith has a story.

What we really have to wrap our heads around is that the bible is not a text book, it is not a history book, it is a story book.

If I believed that the reason we read today’s text from Exodus was a history lesson – it would not matter to me at all. What do I care what happened in Egypt and Palestine some 4000 years ago? It is ancient history at that...

So many people leave the church, so many people close off parts of their faith, because they say to themselves... I do not know why that would matter to me...

But as a story... it has a lot more power – because we are meant to hear the story and understand something about ourselves. The same way we get wrapped up in a good book, or a movie... the same way we hear about something and it changes us...

So let me stop and ask a simple question: Why is a seemingly obscure tale about a seemingly obscure tribe so significant? Why, 3,000 years later, do we go on retelling this, of all stories?

It is because the story of the Exodus teaches us the most important truths we need to know in order to think and live as Christians. First, it teaches us the deepest truth we can know about who and what God is. God's most fundamental self-definition is not Creator of the World or Sustainer of All Flesh (though God certainly is both and infinitely more), but rather the "Lord your God who brought you out of the Land of Egypt to be your God" (Numbers 15:41).

In other words, God is the One who sides with the widow and the orphan, the vulnerable, the enslaved and the oppressed.

Because we are created in the image of God, human beings are called upon to become like God--in Deuteronomy's words, "to walk in God's ways." The deepest truth about God thus becomes our most profound religious aspiration: Each of us must seek to become a person who cares for the weak, who frees the wrongfully imprisoned, who raises up the cast down.

We are commanded to keep the experience of being a stranger in a land not our own constantly in mind, and to be driven to ethical passion as a result. We have a positive duty to love the stranger, because we too were once strangers.

I know, it sounds a little heavy handed, I am actually pulling out texts from Deuteronomy and numbers and Leviticus and stringing them together to tell you what the Bible says about the Exodus. If you want to think of it in a simpler way: This story shows us that God saves.

It is THE story of god saving people, who might not even really deserve it. It sets the stage to remind us of all those myriad of times when we have been miraculously led in the right direction, or brought out of depression, or made the right choice...

If we can see that the idea of God saving is an important part of our faith – it frees us to see it at work in the world around us in new ways.

Now the second thing is that the Exodus story also offers us a powerful counter-testimony to the cynicism and despair that threaten to engulf and demoralize us. Imagine a people, enslaved and dehumanized for generation after generation, all hope of freedom and dignity beaten out of them. After hundreds of years, it seems manifestly clear that nothing will ever change.

But then everything changes.

God's freeing the slaves serves as a paradigm and a program for all of Jewish, Christian and, indeed, for all of human history. The world will not be redeemed until every slave has been freed and all oppression has been rooted out. But the slaves will be freed, and the world will be redeemed.

Egypts come in all sizes. We are, each of us, familiar with enslavements and oppressions of various kinds; from racism and sexism, to bosses that hate us and people that treat us badly. And we are tempted, more often than many of us would care to admit, to abandon all hope of change, to dismiss all talk of transformation of self and world as so much Pollyanna nonsense.

To combat our despair, we tell a simple story--the story of a people who seemed destined for eternal slavery, eternal degradation and yet emerged into freedom and a shared dream with God. A people who were slaves now suddenly become co-creators of the future – and live in hope of a world that makes equality and love the most important value.

***

So, back to you... and your story... Most of us here today probably have never known slavery... at least in its most direct form – but like I said, this is a story about us... It is the Amazing Grace story of “I once was lost, but now am found.”

We need to recapture a little bit of the passion that brings us to faith.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

What Profit Is It

“For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?” Matthew 16:26

John Calvin, one of the great theologians of the Protestant Reformation, who eventually founded Presbyterianism, once wrote, “It's hard to remember that Jesus did not come to make us safe, but rather to make us disciples, citizens of God's new age, a kingdom of surprise.”

I suppose that it is true in every aspect of life, we have this secret feeling deep in our heart that if we could just figure out what is expected of us – if we could narrow the field down to the exact things that we have to do... everything would work out perfectly.

If I just knew what to eat to lose weight. If I just knew what to do so my kids would turn out okay. If I just knew what to do so people would love me. If I just knew what to do to get the promotion. And each time, we imagine there is a simple black and white answer. Give up carbs and, viola, I will be young and healthy and skinny.

Of course, despite our hope that there are easy answers... It simply is not true.
It is not true that if you go to church you are religious. It is not true that being a Christian makes you holier than other people. And it is certainly not true that following Jesus is as easy as showing up to church.

Like it or not we have to confront the hard sayings of Jesus and come to realize that when Jesus taught people to follow God, it was not simply that God would love them and everything would be okay... Our story also tells us that when the end started getting nearer Jesus tried harder to explain discipleship to his followers and he said things like:

“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 will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”

During World War Two an interesting thing happened with the Church in Germany. You see, Adolph Hitler was among other things an extremely religious man. He built cathedrals and gathered religious artefacts together in his New Berlin. At the same time, the church and state in Germany have always been hand in hand, and he needed that power; so he created the German Christian Movement to take the church in hand as part of the National Socialist Party.

There is an ethical dilemma for you. As a Christian should you go along with the government if you have some knowledge that their decisions are wrong? What is a disciple of Jesus supposed to do?

Karl Barth – perhaps the most famous of modern theologians, got some learned friends and faithful followers together and created the Barmen Declaration. They created a breakaway movement called the “Confessing Church” to oppose Nazism; or rather, to remind people that as disciples of God, following the teachings of Jesus, we cannot act in ways contrary to God.

Dietrich Bonheoffer; one of the pastors who signed, was later arrested for his part in the plot to assassinate Hitler. He wrote what has now become a classic in theological literature about following Jesus, The Cost of Discipleship, in which he says, “Suffering is the true badge of discipleship. The disciple is not above his master.”

Okay, all very formal, all very history lesson-like; but I am trying to impress upon you the truth that choosing to be a disciple of Jesus is not a simple thing – it is in fact choosing to live in a way that will constantly bring you in conflict with the values of the world; the powers that be, and the way things have always been.

But here is the other thing. One doesn’t have to be a hero to be a disciple. I think sometimes we get a sense of this when we stop and think about the people God worked through in the Bible. Jesus was a poor stone mason’s son; Moses was an exiled slave, prince imposter who had a speech impediment; and just about everyone else always has some excuse why it should not be them – too young, too old, too rich, too poor... What we need to realize is that the Bible is talking about how ordinary people find the courage to be faithful.

It is all well and good to say that – and to realize it with our heads; but do we realize it in our hearts?

Moses was living his life the only way he knew how. He was tending the sheep for his brother in law while carving out a life in the wilderness of the Middle East. One day, he had a vision, perhaps a dream, perhaps an encounter with something greater than himself – with God. And that encounter was really quite simple.

He was walking on the side of a hill with his sheep, wondering, “Is this all there is to life?” when out of the corner of his eye he saw something he could not explain – later it would get called a burning bush – but let’s just say it was something that made Moses believe that he was not alone. So he started a conversation with God and essentially asked God – tell me who you are once and for all, so I can get that black and white answer and know what to do with my life.
And God, trying to be helpful said, “I am who I am” or perhaps God said “I will be who I will be” – you could take the Hebrew either way.

Which on the one hand sounds pretty evasive; it certainly does not sound black and white; but on the other hand, was just the answer Moses seemed to need.

It could be that Moses heard God say: “It’s not all about you.” And if so, that led him to realize that his life had purpose, it had destiny, and that he should be using his gifts to help other people.

It could be that Moses heard God say: “I just am!” And if that were the case, perhaps it was an invitation to live life fully. To stop worrying that there is more to life and to realize that this is life, all around you, so wake up and live it.

Or perhaps Moses heard God say: “I will be!” And it came across as a challenge. Things are going to be different and you should come along for the journey. Have faith, and hope, that things will work out in the best possible way – and lend a hand to make that happen.

In any of those cases – what we really see is the original idea of discipleship being about getting outside of yourself, accepting that there is a whole world out there that you have a part to play in.

Jesus said it just as simply - deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow. He wasn’t saying that we had to become martyrs and die horribly, he was saying that we have to let go of our own desires a little, stop doing everything just for ourselves, and enter into the reality of the world, which often means making hard and costly choices.

It could be as simple as helping a stranger, or smiling at someone who looks lonely. It could be as large as risking everything to help make something better, or giving up security in order to find hope. Whatever the case, being a disciple is the only possible course that is open to us if we truly understand what Jesus taught; after all, as he said, and I paraphrase, “Even if we were to become rich, and famous, and healthy, and powerful – and did nothing with our life but died lonely and alone. Our life would mean nothing.”

Theresa of Avila, a Carmelite nun, and mystic, who lived in Spain in the 1500’s put all of this together when she wrote a poem called, You are Christ’s Hands

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which to look out
Christ’s compassion to the world
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about
doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.