Amazing Grace

By Keith E Gatling         Sermon for June 14, 1998

Lessons for Pentecost Proper 6 in Year C

2 Samuel 11:26-12:10

Psalm 32,

Galatians 2:15-21,

Luke 7:36-8:3

One of the best books I ever read was one that I got as a Christmas present from Cheryl this past year. In fact, it was a book that I asked her to give me as a present af­ter I saw it in the holiday flyer from Sacred Melody. It was a book by one of my favorite authors, Philip Yancey, and it’s called What’s So Amazing About Grace? When I first got it, I figured I’d read a chapter a day, and finish the whole thing in about three weeks. Instead, I found myself with a book I couldn’t put down, a book I devoted pretty much every waking moment to reading, a book that I had devoured within a few days, and a book that changed the way I see a lot of things.

It was shortly after I finished the grace book that Pastor Paul gave me the list of preaching dates he needed covered for the summer. When I looked at the dates and the readings that went went them, the ones for this weekend jumped out at me because they tied in so perfectly with what I had just read and things I was still thinking about, and I knew right then and there that this was the weekend I was signing up to preach on. So here I am.

Where to begin…there are many places, but perhaps the best place is with the readings for this weekend. The reading from Second Samuel talks about David’s sin with Bath­sheba and his realization of his guilt, but doesn’t talk about God’s reaction that sin. That’s saved, perhaps for another set of readings. Psalm 32, on the other hand, goes on about the joy forgiveness. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul talks about how we are saved by faith and the grace of God. And fi­nally, in Luke, Jesus is himself involved in and tells us a story of forgiveness through grace.

Forgiveness and grace, the same thing, in­separable facets of the same thing, things which imply each other? Perhaps…and I’m going to treat them as such as I talk to you today.

Where to begin? My friend Patty was watching one of those abominable TV talk shows a few years ago. You know, the ones that find all the worst cases in society and give them an audience. The shows we all say there should be fewer of, and yet inexplica­bly their ratings keep going up? Anyway, on this show they were talking about a man who had committed some heinous crime, and a woman from the audience stands up and says that she hopes this man rots in Hell.

Interesting. Patty found this very inter­esting. Why? Because for all practical pur­poses, it’s we Christians who gave the world the concept of Hell as a place where you go to be punished for evil things. But perhaps more importantly, it’s we Christians who gave the world the concept of God’s grace and forgiveness shown through Jesus’s death for us, and are supposed to want people to seek this forgiveness so that they can be with him forever. Patty found this whole thing in­teresting because this woman, if she was a Christian, shouldn’t be hoping that anyone rots in Hell. Warning people of the distinct possibility…yes; saying that a person de­serves to rot in Hell (as do we all)…maybe; hoping that they go there…no.

If anything, we should be hoping that no one rots in Hell…not Lewis Lent, not Ted Kaczynski, not even the popular worst case example Adolf Hitler. We should be hoping and praying that at some point all come to understand that they are sinners and need God’s grace and forgiveness. And we should remember that we need it too.

In the reading from Luke, Jesus is involved in a story about grace, explaining how the woman is showing such great love because she recognizes the great role that God’s grace has played in her life. But he also goes on to tell a cautionary tale of what may hap­pen if you don’t respond to the grace shown to you with grace towards others. The fact that God’s grace makes it possible for him to forgive us all kinds of things means that we should strive to show that kind of grace too. Perhaps we won’t be as perfect in our ex­pressions of grace as God, but that’s not the point.

I used to complain to God on a regular ba­sis about my part. Yes, about my part…or rather, the fact that I didn’t know what it was. In this grand production of his, I had no idea what my lines were, what my blocking was, what my entry and exit cues were, how I was supposed to interact with the rest of the cast. There was nothing written out for me, I had to ad lib everything, not knowing what effect it would have on the rest of the people in the show.

I complained saying, "How can I do what you want me to do if you won’t tell me what it is?" I was worried that I would, with the best of intentions, do something that hurt someone else. I was worried that I might, with the best of intentions, do something that was totally contrary to what God really wanted. I had reached the point of saying, "Okay. If you don’t tell me what you want and how you want me to react in this situa­tion, then it’s not my fault if I get it wrong." I was concerned about doing it right, and not getting it wrong.

Then I read Yancey’s book, and all of a sudden it all fell into place. I was putting too much emphasis on my getting it right. On my being flawless. On my being blameless. And not enough emphasis on the fact that God’s grace was big enough to take care of any number of mistakes I made in good faith. Suddenly I realized that the point was not my getting it right, but trusting God’s grace to take care of the places where I inevitably messed up. Once I understood that, things became a lot easier for me. It didn’t mean I could now be sloppy about things, knowing that God would mop up after me. It meant that I could now say, "I’ve done my best, God will do the rest." We are to trust in God’s grace, and not in our own efforts.

Once we understand that, things should be a lot easier. It should make it easier for us to go about in our lives not worrying about messing up. It should also make it easier for us to show grace toward others, knowing that they’re doing the best they can, even when they’ve hurt us.

I first heard of Butterfly McQueen one evening when I was a kid in North Jersey sitting in the backseat of our 1966 Ford Mustang. I don’t remember where we were going, but the radio, as usual, was set to WOR 710-AM, and we were listening to Barry Farber interview her. They may have talked about her famous role in Gone With The Wind, she’s the one who said, "I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies," and they may have talked about some of her other movie roles. But that’s not what I re­member. What stuck with me from that in­terview was her talking about how she had started her own religion because she just couldn’t deal with the fact that in Christi­anity you could do some really horrible, awful things, ask God to forgive you, and then you were all set. It just didn’t seem right. It just didn’t seem fair.

Well, the funny thing is that in her objec­tions she got it right. That’s exactly what God’s grace is all about. It is exactly about being able to say, "Oh my God, I’ve just re­alized and understood the truly horrible things I’ve done that I can’t possibly make up for. Please forgive me for the sake of your son who died for one such as me." It is exactly about being able to say that and knowing that you will be forgiven.

Yes, Butterfly McQueen was right…it’s not fair. If you will not rest until you know that someone will be punished for some terrible deed they did to you, then God’s grace is an affront to your sense of justice, and seems like a cheap and easy way out. But, on the other hand, if you’re honest with your­self…brutally honest with yourself…you’ll re­alize that you’ve done some awful things too, things you might not even be aware of, and that you need to call upon God’s grace too.

McQueen and others like her are afraid that people will take advantage of God’s grace, and our grace if we offer it, in the worst possible way…planning to do things knowing that they’ll be forgiven. But I’m not sure that God can be manipulated that eas­ily. I’m not sure that premeditation counts. In order to know and understand that you need grace and forgiveness, you need to know and understand that you’ve done some­thing wrong. Not just that you’ve broken some little bureaucratic rule that happened to get in your way, you need to understand that you’ve done something wrong, and un­derstand the effects of it. Once you under­stand that, you’ll understand God’s grace and you’ll understand how it will not be manipu­lated. You’ll understand this because you will be changed by it, and once changed by it, you won’t seek to manipulated. The woman who washed Jesus feet with her hair was a per­fect example of someone who truly under­stood grace. The man who was forgiven his great debt, but wouldn’t forgive someone else their much smaller one was an example of one who didn’t and sought to manipulate it.

What is it that makes us Christians? Basi­cally it’s the belief that through God’s grace Jesus died for us while were still sinners, and that it this same grace that will bring us into God’s presence, although by all accounts we don’t deserve it, when we die. It is this grace and the faith in it, which is the hall­mark of Christianity, and the basis of all we believe in.

God’s grace, God’s amazing grace, is the important thing. If we believe, if we truly believe, that God’s grace is the main thing, then minor and even major differences in theology between denominations don’t mat­ter. Differences in communion practices don’t matter. Questions of apostolic succes­sion don’t matter. Differences in biblical in­terpretation or liturgical practice don’t mat­ter. If we spend too much time dwelling on these issues, we focus too much, as did I when I worried about my part, on our getting it right, and not enough on God’s grace which will bring us to him in spite of all the mis­takes we made in good faith.

John Newton, was a slave trader who was changed by grace and became a minister and hymn writer. He didn’t write "Amazing The­ology, how sweet the sound." Nor did he write "Amazing Communion practices" or "Amazing Liturgy." These are simply re­sponses to what is truly important and what he did write about. Please stand and join me now as we sing Amazing Grace.

Amen.

True Reformation

By Keith E Gatling         Sermon for October 23, 1997

Lessons for Reformation Day in Year B

Jeremiah 31:31-34,

Psalm 46,

Romans 3:19-28,

John 8:31-36

Reformation. The birthday of the Lutheran church. The birthday of the Protestant church. The day we celebrate Martin Lu­ther’s nailing his 95 Theses to the church door in Wittenberg, and sticking it to Rome and the Pope. The day we get in the faces of all the Catholics we know and say "NYAAH!"…and then count on the fingers of an amputated hand the number of Catholic friends we have left.

Reformation. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Lutheran pride, Protestant pride. Dredging up all the old reasons why we’re right and they’re wrong. Feeding the fires of a 500 year old debate.

Well, the old radio announcer in me (now there’s something you probably didn’t know about me!) would say, "EHNNT! Wrong an­swer! You lose! And what do we have for the departing contestants, Johnny?"

Well, what we have for you is better than the year’s supply of Turtle Wax, the case of Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco treat), or even a copy of our home game. What we have for you is the truth, and if you’ve been pay­ing attention to the lessons, you know what that does for you.

While it’s true that the date of Reformation Day is set based on when Martin Luther posted his 95 theses and fired the shot that started the Protestant Reformation, even a cursory glance at the appointed reading will tell us that this is not what the focus of the day is. The readings don’t talk about an in­stitutional reformation, successfully com­pleted, that we’re on the "right" side of, and can smugly look down our noses at those who aren’t on our team. No…they talk about something different, something better, and something not quite a done deal yet.

In the first lesson, Jeremiah says that God will make a new covenant with his peo­ple, one in which he will write his law on their hearts, and one where they will all know the Lord. This doesn’t sound like an institutional reformation to me. It looks a whole lot more like a personal reformation, an individual reformation. A reformation in which the people are changed, and then perhaps the institutions and society are changed by those people. A people who have a better understanding of God’s intentions for those institutions, a people who are not quite as clueless as we’d previously read about them being (you know, I’ve always wondered how, anyone after being led through the Red Sea, could just a little while later say, "Hmm, I’m not sure about this God of yours, Moses.").

Has this day come yet? I don’t think so. At least I know it hasn’t for me. I know about God. I know lots of things about God…from many different denominational and religious perspectives. And you know something? I’m tired of knowing about God. I want more, I want what Jeremiah talks about…I want to actually know God, person­ally, face to face, without centuries worth of interpretations and personal opinions get­ting in the way. Hasn’t happened yet for me. Has it happened for you?

There are a lot of us out there who are doing the best we can knowing about God, and messing up in good faith along the way. There are people on opposite ends of the political spectrum, each with deep faith in God, and doing what they believe is the right thing based on what they’ve learned about God…and often disagreeing. Even disagreeing as to whether or not the other person is even following God because, well, "If you were, you’d obviously see things my way."

This is what reformation is about…not about a bureaucratic and theological refor­mation long done, but an individual one still in progress.

Do we boast because we’re Lutherans, the first of the Protestants (or at least the first of the successful Protestants)? Do we use this day to swell up with Lutheran pride and drag out all those great hymns by Mar­tin Luther that have served us and so many other Protestants so well for the past 500 or so years?

Paul might say, "By no means!" In fact, in his letter to the Romans, he said, "Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded!" After all, what do we have to boast about? Can we claim that we are absolutely right and the Catholics are absolutely wrong? I don’t think so. Can we at least be sure of where we’re right and they’re a little off? I’m not so certain about that either. I know that we can easily identify where we dis­agree, but can we really be sure that they’re the ones who are wrong when it happens?

So then what can we boast about? Ironi­cally, we can boast about being smart enough to know how stupid we are. We can boast about being smart enough to know that we need to be reformed. Notice what I said there…I didn’t say that we need to reform (although I’m sure a lot of us need to do a bit of that too), I said that we need to be reformed, remade by God so that we can be like the image Jeremiah talked about. We know that we need to be reformed, and of that we can boast. We can also boast of a God who loves us enough to want to reform us…no matter how much it costs. And we all know how much it did cost.

So then what becomes of all those old argu­ments dating back from the Reformation and the Counter-Reformation? Well, there are a couple of things to consider…

Did you ever get into a heated argument with someone very close to you? Did you ever say some things in the heat of anger that you didn’t really mean, and that if they were ever written down might be taken dif­ferently than you meant them by people who had no personal knowledge of the situation? Did you ever notice that you were maybe too stubborn to admit when someone else was right, and just had to keep justifying your position in order to save face, thinking that "If I give in on this, then there goes every­thing"?

Well, perhaps the same thing happened with all those things we’ve heard about the Reformation. Yes, it’s true that Martin Lu­ther and the Pope threw quite a number of insults back and forth, but the writing doesn’t always tell us whether they were being deadly serious or humorously sarcas­tic, and of course, wanting to ascribe total seriousness to an issue as important as re­ligion, we don’t even consider that maybe they were "only kidding" about some of the things they called each other in their anger and frustration.

But there’s also another thing to con­sider…times have changed. Over the past couple of hundred years we’ve learned enough from each other to be at the point where one definition of a Lutheran is a Catholic who failed Latin and doesn’t play Bingo. I think that Martin Luther would’ve felt right at home at Vatican II. Most of us have gotten past the point of saying things like "We shouldn’t do that because it’s a Catholic thing," and you know, if we avoided doing everything that Catholics did, we wouldn’t be singing, praying, or even eating and breathing.

I once read that the very opinions that would’ve marked you as a card carrying So­cialist back in the 20s and 30s are now very mainstream among today’s Democrats and Republicans. And the same applies to our Lu­theran/Catholic relationships. Over the years we’ve learned that so many of our "really big arguments" were merely just slightly different understandings based on different turns of phrases. Different inter­pretations based on different cultural back­grounds and cultural baggage, and which made perfect sense when you took that into consideration.

So what of the arguments of the past 500 years? Well, for the most part they are, and should be, ancient history. None of us now would think of carrying on family relation­ships based on a feud from four generations ago, and yet there are many of us who still insist on going back 500 years to make use­less Lutheran/Catholic distinctions.

But back to that individual reforma­tion…what today is really about. When I first glanced at the Gospel reading for to­day, I assumed that there were another few sentences in it that I was looking forward to using and talking about. When I later read it more closely, I found out that those sen­tences weren’t there, but were, in fact in similar passages in Luke and Matthew. It’s where John the Baptist is amazed by the crowds of people coming to him to be bap­tized and said, "Don’t say to yourselves ‘Oh, but we have Abraham as our ancestor,’ be­cause God is able to make new descendants for Abraham from these stones!"

It would’ve tied in perfectly with that Lu­theran pride thing. So many of us say, "But we’re good Lutherans, surely we please God." And yet before us there were those who said, "But we’re good Catholics" and "But we’re good Jews." Have we even noticed the pattern? Have we learned anything from it?

Again, our salvation is not based on who we are. That has been made clear. Instead we are to desire to be reformed, transformed even. And this reformation will enable us to see the truth…a truth which will in some cases show us where many of our deepest held opinions were mistaken, but a truth that will free us to serve God and each other better.

What is Reformation about? Perhaps at one time it was about changing the structure and practices of the institutional church, but as you’ve figured out by now, I don’t think that’s what it’s about anymore. Because you see, changing the structure doesn’t neces­sarily change the hearts of the people. No…the good news of Reformation is that we’re looking at the kind of reformation that Jeremiah spoke about…one where we are changed, and then we change the church and the world around us.

And I want you to start thinking of ref­ormation in this way too. Not as a day that celebrates a done bureaucratic and theologi­cal deal, not as a day on which we try to draw attention to ourselves for being Lu­therans (especially among those Catholics we know), but instead as something that we can look forward to having happen to each of us…that we might no longer teach each other or say to one another ‘Know the Lord,’ be­cause we will all know him, from the least to the greatest, and he will forgive our iniquity and remember our sin no more.

This is the good news of reformation!

Wisdom

By Keith E Gatling         Sermon for August 7, 1997

Lessons for Pentecost 13 in Year B

Proverbs 9:1-6,

Psalm 34:9-14,

Ephesians 5:15-20,

John 6:51-58

Wisdom. One of my favorite words in the Bible. One of my favorite concepts. One of the things I desire most…for everyone. But if I can’t have that, I’ll settle for the winning lottery numbers.

Wisdom and intelligence. Being wise and being smart. Wisdom and smarts. Even though we tend to use the terms interchangeably in English, they really are two separate ideas, two different concepts. And interestingly enough, they are in Hebrew and Greek too.

Greek has sophia and gnosis. In English we have wisdom and intelligence, or their adjective forms wise and smart.

Okay, so enough with the English lesson already. What’s the big difference? Well, the difference to me, and I’ll admit right up front that it’s not one that’s consistently followed in the Bible, is what you do with the information you have. The smart kid knows how to break into everyone else’s computer account without being caught or even leaving any signs of the break-in. The wise kid has the exact same knowledge, but also knows that she shouldn’t do it.

The smart person knows how to get The Disney Channel or HBO for free by building a converter box out of parts from Radio Shack. Again, the wise person knows not to. But not only that, the wise person also understands why he shouldn’t do it.

The smart CEO knows that cutting employees will reduce costs and raise the company’s stock price. The wise one understands that there are other implications and that there may be better ways to do this than a massive bloodletting.

It seems that intelligence is only half the equation. Wisdom is so much more. Wisdom is intelligence with a conscience. It’s intelligence with a knowledge and intimate understanding of the consequences of using that information. Wisdom, or at least my definition of it, includes a feeling of responsibility for the proper use of the knowledge you have. Wisdom is intelligence used in the service of God.

Proverbs says that wisdom has gone out and invited people to feast at her table. Calling in those who lack understanding so that they may gain wisdom and live. Ah, but how many of us who lack understanding realize it. Or how many of us who realize it really want to admit it? How many of us are wise enough to realize that we’re fools?

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul says to walk not as fools, but as wise. He says "don’t be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is." This seems to fit in with my definition of wisdom…learn God’s will and use the other knowledge you have in accordance with it!

The psalm doesn’t mention wisdom specifically at all, but if you look at it carefully, what is it that the psalmist is talking about but a wise person.

And then there are the people in the Gospel reading. They were no idiots. They knew that Jesus couldn’t give them his flesh to eat…that is where flesh is strictly defined as the epidermis, the dermis, and some muscle tissue. But maybe they weren’t wise enough to see past the literal meaning to something different that Jesus meant. Perhaps they weren’t wise enough to say, "Excuse me. I’m confused. I really want to understand this, so could you go over this again for me?"

And yet, in this world true wisdom is often not its own reward…at least not in the short run. One need only look at Jimmy Carter to see this. This poor guy has been saddled with the title "the best former president the country ever had," a title he really hates. People only began to really appreciate his wisdom after they voted him out of office. And yet I can safely say without tipping my hand as to my political affiliation (and I’m not dogmatic on either side) that most people now would prefer Carter to anyone we’ve had since. We are now, almost 20 years later, able to recognize the wisdom in some very unpopular decisions he made. We are also now able to recognize the foolishness in some very popular decisions made by subsequent presidents.

Wisdom says, "Come eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Forsake foolishness and live." Jesus says, "I am the living bread from Heaven…and my blood is drink indeed." What is he telling us here? He is our wisdom. If we seek him we seek wisdom and understanding. If we seek to do his will, then we seek to do what is truly wise and not merely smart, what benefits everyone and not just ourselves.

I said at the beginning that I want wisdom…for everyone. And I think that now that you understand my meaning, and what I think the Bible’s meaning is, you’ll understand when I say that I want this wisdom even for…and maybe even especially for…my enemies and those who hate me. After all, if they are wise, truly wise, and not just smart or shrewd, can they hate me or hurt me?

And so I ask God to grant wisdom not only to those whom I’ve entrusted to look out for me…people like Roy Bernardi, George Pataki, Bill Clinton, Pastor Paul, and Pastor Seibert to name a few…but also for those who are my sworn enemies and enemies of those I hold dear; Saddam Hussein, Moamar Gaddaffi, members of the IRA, and all manner of zealots and terrorists.

And yet, asking for wisdom for those who hate me or merely drive me crazy doesn’t just mean converting them to my point of view. Because you see, what is perhaps most important is that I ask God to give me wisdom too. The wisdom to be able to see when someone else is right, and to be able to accept correction even from them.

And so what I want perhaps more than anything else in the world is wisdom for everyone, because I believe that from wisdom comes love, comes peace, comes sharing, comes understanding.

But like I said before, if I can’t have that, I’ll settle for this week’s winning lottery numbers.

God Had Other Plans

Lessons for Pentecost  16 in Year A

Genesis 50:15-21

Psalm 103:[1-7] 8-13

Romans 14:1-12

Matthew 18:21-35

It was a quiet evening in the beginning of June, at the end of his sophomore year. He had just come back from spending a month in Europe with the choir, and would only be home for a week before heading back up to the university for a Summer job.

It was a quiet evening in the beginning of June…until his father came home…then it started…another one of those arguments. No one remembers what triggered it, or what the argument was about, but as usual, it got ugly fast, and sides were drawn. On one side you had him, his mother, and his sister. On the other was his father.

As the arguing continued, his father said one thing, he said another, and then it came…that dreaded line that his father had used on him so many times before…

“Well, if that’s the way you’re going to be, then I won’t pay for college.”

That was it. He had had it. He was tired of being controlled and threatened with that line, and he decided to put an end to it right then and there, and he responded, “Then don’t!”

With those two words, his father’s power over him had been forever lifted, but as he returned to the university for his Summer job, he had no idea what he was going to do about the Fall.

Even though you meant to do harm to me, God intended it for good.

Joseph said this to his brothers. The brothers who had originally planned to kill him, and instead managed to get him sold into slavery in Egypt. The very brothers who plotted, one way or another, to destroy his life.

He said, “You meant to ruin me, but God used your actions and my new situation for good.”

If you know the story, then you know that it was because Joseph had been sold into slavery that he ended up in Potiphar’s household, and then in prison as a result of false accusations made by Potiphar’s wife. It was because he was in prison that his ability to interpret dreams came to the attention of Pharaoh. And it was because he was able to interpret Pharaoh’s dream that he was able to plan for the coming famine, and have enough food in storage not only for Egypt, but for others, including the very brothers who wanted to kill him.

God used the mean spirited actions of Joseph’s brothers (and come to think of it, Potiphar’s wife) for a good purpose, and as a result Joseph forgives them and doesn’t hold it against them, because he sees the good that has happened as a result.

Can you forgive like that? Can I? For the answers to these questions, let’s get back to our friend here who’s just left home after that huge bloody argument with his father.

Had that heated exchange in June of 1976 never happened, our friend probably would’ve graduated with the rest of his class in 1978, and who knows where he’d be now. But because that exchange did happen, we do know where he is now. We know this because I’m that person.

You see, because of that evening in June, I ended up spending the next six years working full time at the SU Library and going to school part time. Had I not spent those extra four years at SU, I would never have had many experiences which I treasure to this day. I never would’ve traveled with the choir as much as I did, and I never would’ve become the musical director for SU’s annual Goon Show. I would never have met the people who led me to Lutheran Campus Ministry, and had I never joined Lutheran Campus Ministry, I never would’ve met two of my closest friends, Roxi Kringle and Cheryl Kutscher. And of course, had I not met Cheryl Kutscher, none of us would’ve met Devra. I also wouldn’t be here at King of Kings…as a choir member who for five years got to fulfill his dream of directing a choir, as a Sunday School teacher, and as a deacon sharing this with you now. And this is the short list.

I look back at all the wonderful things in my life over the past 20 years, and I’m able to see that God used that ugly night in 1976 to make them happen.

And knowing this, I can say to my father, as Joseph said to his brothers, “You meant this for evil, but God had other things in mind. God had better things in mind. Things that might not have happened were it not for what you did. And therefore, I forgive you.”

Make no mistake, it’s not easy to forgive like this, especially if you’re still busy spending time dwelling on the bad things that others have done to you. It’s not easy if you can’t or won’t see any good that God has allowed to come into your life as a direct result of how others have tried to work against you. It’s especially hard if you’re just at the beginning of your story. But if you can see the good, if you will look for it, then it can become easier to forgive like this, and I’m asking you to look.

Instead of continuing to dwell as an adult on how your parents’ divorce hurt you as a kid, ask yourself if God has used that experience to make you a better spouse to your mate and a better parent to your children.

Instead of continuing to dwell on the person higher up in the food chain at your old job who forced you out while protecting someone who was incompetent, ask yourself if God has used that experience to lead you to a more satisfying career that was better suited to the gifts he gave you.

God used the evil that was done in Joseph’s life, and in mine for a greater good, and we know how he used the evil done in the life of his own son, Jesus, for the greatest good. Surely these aren’t isolated incidents. Surely these aren’t the only three lives in which God has turned evil to good. Look for those situations in your own lives, so that you too are able to say…

You meant it for evil, but God had other plans. I forgive you.

Taking Care of Our Own

Lessons for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A

Acts 2:42-47

Psalm 23

1 Peter 2:19-25

John 10:1-10

I spent four of my eight years as an undergrad at SU delivering pizzas for Domino’s…and this was on top of my regular full-time job at the SU li­brary. In spite of what you might have heard about some of the horrors of pizza delivery, I ac­tually enjoyed this job.

First of all, there was the free food…anytime we slightly burned a pie or it came back to the store for some reason, we got to eat it. Then there was the fact that as a pizza driver, you really got to learn your way around the area.

Then, of course, there were the tips. On a good night you could make ten dollars from a four hour shift. You got to the point where you knew which neighborhoods had good tippers and which ones had people who would actually wait for the 4¢ change from their $3.96 pizza (this was back in the 80s). As a result, when Cheryl’s sister and her husband were buying the house that we live in now, I could say to them, “It’s a good neighbor­hood…they tip.”

But aside from the tips and the free food was the fact that on any given night, if you were driv­ing in the University area, you were bound to run into a few people you knew. So I wasn’t at all sur­prised when I took a pizza to a certain room in Shaw Hall and found that I was delivering it to Don and Lisa, two people I knew from Lutheran Campus Ministry.

I don’t remember what kind of pizza they or­dered. I don’t remember whether or not they had Pepsi with it. I don’t remember how much the pizza came to. But I do remember the tip.

Don gave me a two dollar tip, which was a lot in student money, and said, “We Lutherans take care of our own.”

All who believed were together and had all things in common. They would sell their possessions and goods and dis­tribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.

That’s what Luke wrote about the early Church. If Don were to paraphrase it, he’d probably just say, “We Christians take care of our own.”

Taking care of our own is a phrase that we can very easily become uncomfortable with because it can bring up images of exclusion. How many times have you heard someone say, “We have to take care of our own before we worry about anyone else’s needs”? And yet, I don’t think this is the way that Don meant it. When Don said “We Lu­therans take care of our own” he was being inclu­sive. He was including me, up to that point still a card carrying Episcopalian, with the sheep in the Lutheran flock.

Do we take care of our own? Do we Lutherans, do we Christians,  really take care of each other like the members of the early church did? I think it’s safe to say that we don’t come anywhere close. Lots of things conspire against us to prevent this.

Part of the problem is that we’re all so scat­tered. How many of us live in the same neighbor­hoods or even on the same block? How many of us only see each other once or twice a week here? It’s hard to know the needs and take care of people you only see once a week.

Another part of the problem is the American obsession with not wanting to give up independ­ence or control. We don’t want to let people know that we may have a need that they can help us with. We don’t want to let people know that we can’t do it all ourselves. We don’t want to owe anyone anything back in return.

There’s a saying in our house that comes from watching too many families play the “You should know what I want” or “You should know why I’m upset” games. The saying is, “We are not Kreskin,” after the famous mind reader. How many of us are angry at the church for not taking care of some need of ours…some need that we haven’t told anyone about? How many of us just expect the church to know when there’s a problem that we need help with? The church, though it is the body of Christ, is not Kreskin.

Ironically, one of the things that may conspire against us taking care of each other is how much we try to take care of the rest of the world. If you’re my age you may remember a song by Three Dog Night called Easy To Be Hard. It says:

Especially people who care about strangers 

Who care about evil and social injustice 

Do you only care about the bleeding crowd 

How about a needing friend

 For some reason it seems so much easier to mount a campaign to take care of the problems of people in some far off land than to help those who are among us. Perhaps, like the crud that gets on my eyeglasses all the time, the problems of the people next to us in the pews are too close to see. Maybe we think we’d be being too intrusive if we offered to help without being asked. Maybe we’re afraid of looking like a failure if we ask for help.

And yet, if we worry about appearing too intru­sive, aren’t we more concerned about ourselves? Where is the care we’re supposed to show for the other members of the body of Christ? If we don’t ask for help when we need it because of our own pride or need for independence, aren’t we depriving someone else of a chance of Christlike service?

There are many reasons why we don’t look like that picture Luke painted of the early Church. But we don’t have to just sit around and beat ourselves up about it. We don’t need to look at their example as law, as “Do it this way or you’ve blown it and you’re not worthy of the name Chris­tian.” Let’s consider why they did it this way, why they shared everything.

I’d like to think that it was a response to the love God had already showed them through Je­sus, a response to a gift already given, rather than an attempt to earn salvation by making some sort of business deal with God.

I remembered the example that Don set and try to take that as a challenge. An ideal to aspire to. Let’s look at the example that Luke wrote about in the same way, an ideal to aspire to, even though we’ll certainly fall on our faces from time to time.

Let’s start trying to take care of our own as well as “the bleeding crowd”. Try actually letting people know that you’re having problems that they might be able to help out with.

And while you’re at it, the next time you order a pizza, give the delivery person a good tip. After all, I’d like to think that we Lutherans take care of all pizza deliverers.

Good News!

Lessons for Advent 2 in Year A

Isaiah 11:1-10

Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19

Romans 15:4-13

Matthew 3:1-12

The prophet Isaiah gives good news:

There will come one upon whom the spirit of the Lord will rest. He will judge with righteousness and destroy the wicked by the breath of his lips. He will make every­thing right, and set the world at peace.

John the baptist gives good news too:

Repent! The kingdom of God is at hand! The one Isaiah spoke of is coming!

This is definitely good news. It was good news to the people of his time…a time of crime, disease, and injustice…a time not much unlike our own. It’s also good news for us. The kingdom of God is at hand. All the horrible things we read about in the newspapers and hear about on TV and radio are not the last word. The kingdom of God is at hand, there will be justice, there will be peace, the evil will be destroyed. Everything will be just fine.

Yes, it’s definitely good news, but do we really understand what it’s all about? Do we really un­derstand what John and Isaiah are saying? I’m not sure that we do. I suspect that there’s just a little smugness in our looking forward to the arrival of God’s kingdom.

Smugness? Us? To borrow a line from the old Warner Brothers cartoons, “Mmm now…it’s a possibility.” In looking forward to justice, to peace, and the destruction of evil, whose perspective are we looking at it from? Perspective makes all the difference in the world. Do we really understand that our perspective is probably not the same as the person sitting next to us. Do we really understand that our perspective is most likely not the same as God’s?

We are smug if we look forward to the arrival of the kingdom of God as the time when all those who have done us wrong will finally get theirs…without considering those whom we might have wronged. We are smug if we look forward to the destruction of those evil people over there…without considering that we may rightly be considered evil by others…and by God. If we have any real understanding of exactly what’s going on here, then we won’t smugly look forward to the arrival of the kingdom of God as the time when our side wins and we finally get what we think we deserve. Rather, we would look forward to it with fear and trembling as the time when God wins, and we have to face the possibility that we will be counted among the unjust and the evil.

But wait a minute. What happened to the good news that I was talking about? How can I say that a proper understanding of the coming of the Kingdom of God requires acknowledging that we may be counted among the unjust and the evil, and call this good news?

Very easily. I can say this because of something else that John said, and that the Pharisees understood. And let’s talk about the Pharisees for a moment. For all the bad press they’ve received in the New Testament, they’re not the bad guys we’ve come to think of them as. Of the four major movements with Judaism during Jesus’s time, he was probably the closest to the Pharisees. So then why do we read so much about the arguments Jesus had with them? For the same reason we read about the few plane crashes and not the thousands of safe arrivals…the disa­greements, like the crashes are few enough that they stand out and grab our attention.

But let’s go back to what the Pharisees un­derstood. They understood another piece of good news that John had. A piece of good news that lay in one very important word. That word is “repent.” John said, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand!”

What’s such good news about being told to repent? There’s much good news in it. We’ve been given a warning. We’ve been told what is needed for us to enter into the kingdom of God. We have a chance to change. We have a chance to try to change…to look at ourselves, see where we have been unjust, where we have been evil, where we have been obstructions to peace. We have a chance to be honest rather than smug.

John is saying “Repent and God will accept you!” “Repent and you won’t be counted among the unjust and evil.” You have a chance to get in on this deal, but you must face the fact of your own sin and then try to turn away from it. The Pharisees understood this, and that’s why they went to John for baptism.

The kingdom of God is at hand! This is good news. Rejoice…and repent so that you might enter into it.

Who Do You Trust?

The Eleventh Sunday After Pentecost - Year C

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 2:18-26

Psalm 49:1-11

Colossioans 3:1-11

Luke 12:13-21

The psalmist writes that he should not be afraid of the wickedness of those who trust in their goods. He says that they die like everyone else, leaving their wealth to those who come after them.

The writer of Ecclesiastes says pretty much the same thing; that no matter how much we accumulate here and now, we’ll all die and we can’t take it with us.

I remember a TV show when I was a kid. The thing that I particularly recall about it is that it came on during American Bandstand on weekday afternoons. Now, that in itself is not so unusual, many shows on many different channels came on during American Bandstand. What was different about this show was that it came on the same channel. Dick Clark would get started at 2.45, and then at about 2.58 announce that they’d be cutting away for this other show, and then at 3.30 we were back to Philadelphia.

Someone at ABC figured that since American Bandstand was getting such great ratings, they’d stick this new show in the middle of it to give it a boost. You don’t see them doing that much anymore.

The name of this other show was Who Do You Trust? and those of you with really good memories will recall that the emcee was a comedian from Nebraska named Johnny Carson, and his announcer was a former circus clown named Ed McMahon.

But we’re going off on a tangent here. I brought up the show because its title is  my question. Who do you trust? Or rather, where do you put your trust?

The psalmist and the writer of Ecclesiastes tell us that contrary to what all the t-shirts and bumper stickers say, the one who dies with the most toys…or fabric…has no advantage, that person is dead just like the rest of us. What’s the point in working feverishly to accumulate things if we’re all going to die anyway? Is it the old Schlitz mentality that says, “You only go around this way once, so you might as well grab all the gusto”?

Where is our trust if this is what we believe? Surely not in God, and that’s unfortunate, be­cause he offers us so much more than our possessions could ever hope to.

Jesus said that there is more to life than the ac­cumulation of possessions. This is good news. This is wonderful news.

It’s good news because it tells those of us who have little that we’re not out of the game yet. It tells us that contrary to what our culture might tell us, we’re not failures if we don’t have the latest luxury car, the most fashionable clothes, and a hefty bank account. In fact, it tells us that the people who do have all these things might be the failures if they lack the right attitude.

Jesus told about a farmer whose land produced more than he could ever use. I’d like to tell you a different story.

I was teaching a computer workshop at Syracuse University, and on this particular day I was showing the ten or so people in the room how to use a spreadsheet.

Now for those of you who don’t know what a spreadsheet is, the simplest way I can describe it is that it’s a program that lets you do budgets and accounting so that you can keep track of how much you’ve made, how much you’ve spent, and how much you’ll have at the end of the year.

I started out by telling them, “You’ve just won $3 million in the lottery. Now we have to keep track of the money.”

I explained that they wouldn’t get the 3 million in one lump sum, and showed them how to set up the spreadsheet so that it would take any lottery prize and divide it into 20 equal payments. This brought them down to $150,000 a year.

Then I showed them how to set up the spread­sheet to figure out how much they’d have left if 28% of the yearly payout was taken in taxes.

Having gotten this far, I said to them, “You now have $108,000 left to spend this year. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do with it?”

One of the people in the room said, “Let’s give some of it away,” and all of a sudden the whole group was discussing organizations like Habitat for Humanity, Amnesty International, and Covenant House. It was only after they had given away a fair portion of their prize money that they started talking about things like paying back student loans, buying cars, buying houses, taking it easy, and putting some money aside for when the prize payments stopped coming.

These people understood that there is more to life than the accumulation of possessions. They understood that there is more to life than trying to keep as much as you can for yourself. You see, there’s nothing wrong with being rich, there’s nothing wrong with having a lot of nice things…provided you have the right attitude. The rich farmer didn’t have the right attitude. The students I taught that day did.

Where do you put your trust? Is it in things that will only comfort you in this lifetime, or is it in the one who can also comfort you in the next? Do our possessions and our culture’s mad dash to have “more, more, more” blind us to the needs of others, and to our own spiritual needs? Do we spend so much time working for our comfort in this life that we neglect our plans for the next?

Jesus said that there is more to life than the accumulation of possessions. I saw a bumper sticker a few years ago that I really liked. It said, “The one who dies with their sins forgiven wins.”

Where do you put your trust?