Afflicting the Comfortable

This sermon is the second half of the one that I began last week ("Comforting the Afflicted"). Although Jesus' mission as the Messiah was to comfort the afflicted, sometimes the comfortable need to be afflicted before they will help Jesus in his work! Do you need to be afflicted somewhere? Just a thought...

One of the things I learned in seminary (among many others, of course) was how to preach a sermon. I learned how to structure a sermon so that it makes sense. I learned how to use images and examples so that they reinforce what I want to say. I even learned about the  types of topics that lend themselves to good sermons. Two types of sermons, in particular, have stayed with me. The first type is easy to preach. This is the kind of sermon that comforts the afflicted. That’s not hard to do; in fact, it’s why many pastors went to seminary in the first place. Comforting folks who are suffering is an important job of every pastor. And every preacher likes to hear people say as they leave, “Thanks, pastor, you really made me feel good today.”

The second type of sermon is a lot more difficult. These sermons are the mirror opposite of the first one. Instead of comforting the afflicted, these sermons afflict the comfortable. These are the sermons that question long-held assumptions; or that challenge common behaviors. And afflicting the comfortable is a lot riskier than comforting the afflicted! If there are comments to the preacher after worship is over, those comments tend to be a little bit defensive. And, of  course, there is always the risk that some parishioners will be so offended by the sermon that they will disappear from the congregation like a puff of smoke and never darken the church doors again!

The effect of sermons that afflict the comfortable are like what happened to the preacher who was invited to preach in a little country church. He decided to preach on sins – specific sins – common sins. The first sin that he tackled was drunkenness, especially as it applied to people who imbibed so much on Saturday night that they skipped church on Sunday morning. From the back row came an enthusiastic voice, “Preach it, pastor!” Next on the pastor’s list was laziness, especially the laziness of people who expected hard-working people to take care of them. From the back row came the same voice, “Right on, pastor!” Then the preacher condemned adultery, straying from the spouse who trusts you absolutely. And the enthusiastic voice responded again, “Amen, preacher, amen!” Finally, to wind things up, the preacher condemned cheating – cheating at cards, cheating at dice, and cheating on income taxes. There was dead silence in the congregation. Finally, the voice from the back row responded slowly, “Oh, oh, pastor, now you’ve quit preaching and gone to meddling!”

When we preachers dare to preach sermons that afflict the comfortable, we risk being seen as “meddlers.” That kind of sermon is really scary for preachers to preach. So it’s comforting to know that the very first sermon that Jesus gave – at least, the first one that we know about – was a sermon that offended the people in his own hometown. In fact, Jesus offended them so much, that they tried to kill him. As Luke tells it (Luke 4:14-21), Jesus proclaimed himself as the Messiah; and stated clearly that his job was freeing the prisoner, lifting up the oppressed, and preaching good news to the poor. The trouble was, it didn’t get the reaction that Jesus was hoping for (Luke 4:22-30). Instead of taking Jesus’ words to heart and thinking about how they might help him in his work, they were focused on Jesus as a local boy who had made good. You can almost hear the whispered comments pop up in the congregation. “Why, that’s Mary and Joseph’s boy! They used to live right down the street from us.” “He’s grown so much! I remember when he was only knee-high to a duck!” “My goodness, he sure knows his Bible! Wouldn’t it be nice if all our boys learned so much in Sabbath school?”

Now, there’s nothing wrong with that. Pride in one of our own isn’t a bad thing. The trouble is that too many times, we never get beyond that pride! And if we are fixated on how wonderful one of our own is, the next step is to wonder not what we can do for that person, but what that person can do for us. After all, “didn’t we know him when?” Jesus knew what they were thinking. “I know what you want,” he said. “You’re looking for me to do things for you here in Nazareth. You want me to heal old Mrs. Smith’s rheumatism; and you want me to kick that Jones boy in the pants so that he’ll finally get off his duff and look for a job; and you want me to make sure that you harvest a bumper crop of barley this spring. Well, you know what? You’re not entitled to any special treatment just because you know me. Remember Elijah? He only helped that widow woman up the coast. And who did Elisha heal? Not anybody in Israel. He healed Naaman, the Syrian! If you’re looking for miracles from me, you’re going to be sadly mistaken!”

That’s afflicting the comfortable, all right. The folks in Jesus’ hometown were altogether too comfortable with him. To them, he wasn’t a prophet, let alone the Son of God. He was just Mary and Joseph’s boy who used to live down the street from them; and wasn’t it time that he did something for them?

I’d love to be able to say that we don’t have that problem anymore; but if I did, I’d be fooling myself. We no longer have people around who knew Jesus as a boy in Nazareth; but there are Christians who seem to think that they are Jesus’ special friends, and they deserve special treatment without doing anything for Jesus in return. They act as though Jesus is a charm that they carry in their pocket, like a fuzzy rabbit’s foot that’s supposed to bring you good luck. They know that they’re saved – and we can rejoice with them in that knowledge – but that seems to be all the farther that their involvement with Jesus goes. Preach good news to the poor? Free the captives? Lift up the oppressed? Why in the world would they want to do that? And yet, when they get in trouble, they pull Jesus out of their pocket like that rabbit’s foot and plead for his help. “Oh, please, Jesus, get me out of trouble! I don’t deserve this! Can’t you do something to help me?”

I know that no one in this congregation would even consider behaving like that. None of us believe in Jesus only for our own benefit. We believe in Jesus because we have experienced his compassion and his power; and we know that our lives aren’t worth a plugged nickel unless we live for other people as well as living for ourselves. But there are lots of people who call themselves Christians who don’t know that. And they’re some of the ones who need some affliction because they are just a little too comfortable, just like those folks were back in Nazareth. Afflicting the comfortable is always a tough thing to do; because the comfortable are a tough crowd to convince. After all, why should they change? Things are fine just the way they are!

We’re pretty comfortable most of the time, too. Maybe we're too comfortable ourselves. Are there places in your life where you secretly expect Jesus to work for you instead of you working for him? I don’t know where those places might be in your life. Maybe you don’t even know where those place are! We’re blind to our own faults most of the time. But if you ask God, God will show you where they are. God will poke around in those comfortable areas in your life that need to be afflicted a little bit. After all, that’s one of God’s jobs.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

Comforting the Afflicted

This Sunday, my congregation installed their officers for 2013. This sermon considered our call to service in light of Jesus' introduction to his ministry (Luke 4:14-21).

Anyone who reads a lot knows that the first thing to read in any book isn’t page one. It’s the introduction. I say that because the introduction gives you the author’s perspective of the book as a whole; and that’s information that you otherwise wouldn’t ever know. For example, I’m right in the middle of reading Battle Cry of Freedom, a Pulitzer Prize winning one-volume history of the Civil War. In his introduction, the author explains that he is less interested in the “where and when” of the war than he is in “why and how” it came about and proceeded in the way that it did. It explains why, after reading the first 150 pages, I’m still learning about the conflict in the Nebraska Territory, and Abraham Lincoln hasn’t even been elected president yet! If I hadn’t read the introduction, I would probably be confused and frustrated at the slow pace of the book. As it is, I understand why the author has taken pains to discuss the political and social climate prior to the war.

The story that you just heard from the Gospel of Luke (Luke 4:14-21) is Jesus’ introduction to his own ministry. In Luke’s gospel, when Jesus makes these comments in his hometown synagogue, he hasn’t yet called any disciples, healed any lepers, or even told any parables. On the contrary, he has been baptized and spent 40 days in the wilderness – but that’s all. This speech is Jesus’ introduction to himself as the Messiah and to what the focus of his ministry will be. This text can tell us a lot if we read it as Jesus’ introduction to his ministry. For example, his choice of Bible text is important. Jesus is given the scroll of the prophet Isaiah by one of the synagogue leaders; but he chooses the particular text himself. Now, Jesus could have chosen lots of different texts in Isaiah to introduce his ministry. Isaiah speaks quite a bit about the Messiah.

For instance, Jesus could have chosen to read Isaiah 61:6. That verse goes like this: “You will be called ‘priests of the Lord;’ you will be named ‘ministers of our God.’ You will feed on the wealth of nations, and in their riches you will boast.” This text glorifies the people of Israel, promising them fame, favor, and wealth. The Jews certainly expected the Messiah to do that for them. But Jesus didn’t choose that text.

Or Jesus could have chosen Isaiah 66:15. This verse warns of God’s judgment upon those who reject him. “Look, the Lord is coming with fire, and his chariots are like a whirlwind. He will bring down his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire.” God surely would punish unbelievers when the Messiah came! But Jesus didn’t choose that text, either.

Instead, he chose Isaiah 61:1-2. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to release the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” It reminds us of Mary’s Magnificat, the song that Jesus’ mother sang while he was still in her womb (Luke 1:52-53). “He has brought down rulers from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things, but has sent the rich away empty.”

Jesus’ choice of this particular text as an introduction to his ministry tells everyone that he isn’t concerned with either patting people on the back or knocking them upside the head. Jesus’ focus as the Messiah is with liberating people and making them whole. That’s what the Gospels talk about, over and over and over again – how Jesus liberated people from diseases and demons and social customs, and made them whole in body and mind and spirit. He did it 2,000 years ago, and he does the very same things for us today.

That’s a good thing to remember that on this day when we install officers in our congregation for the coming year. Our job as followers of Jesus Christ is to be doing the very same things – healing and unloosing and lifting up and accepting and encouraging. And those church officers who will be installed in just a few minutes are the ones who are going to lead us in that work. Do we always do our work well? No. Do we always make good decisions? No. Do we sometimes have the wrong priorities? Of course. After all, we’re only human. But we do the very best we can to imitate Jesus in our life as Nashville United Church of Christ.

Now, sometimes people misunderstand how we’re supposed to go about doing that. Are we supposed to neglect ourselves and concentrate exclusively on other people? Of course not! Before we can minister to other people, we need to be a strong, healthy congregation.

We’re just like passengers in an airplane. What does the attendant tell us before every take-off? “In the unlikely event that we lose cabin pressure, activate your oxygen mask and put it on yourself before attempting to help anyone else.” We can’t help anyone else if we’re not taking care of ourselves!

That means that we have to take care of our own facilities even as we help others live safely in affordable housing. It means that we care for members of our own congregation even as we help others who are suffering. It means that we are intentional about joining in fellowship as we celebrate the gift of the Spirit in our midst and pray for the Spirit in the lives of others. Following Jesus as a UCC congregation isn’t an either/or that means we have to choose between caring for ourselves and caring for others. On the contrary, it means finding an appropriate balance as we both care for ourselves and reach out to others. And it means constant prayer, discernment, and correction with the guidance of the Spirit.

Freedom for the prisoners, the recovery of sight to the blind, release for the oppressed, and proclaiming God’s favor to all. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing as disciples of Jesus Christ. Those are our jobs whether we’re congregational leaders or just folks who sit in a pew on Sunday mornings. That’s what Jesus said his job was as the Messiah; and he expects us to do the same. Our fathers and mothers who came before us here at Nashville followed Jesus as faithfully as they could. May God grant that we are as faithful as they were.

By Another Way

Sometimes we follow roads that are physical; but sometimes our roads are spiritual ones. This sermon  examines the very last phrase of the story of the Wise Men (Matthew 2:1-12), in which Matthew tells us that they left the Child "by another way." Which way was that? And does their choice to take "another way" have anything to say to us?

Anyone who has travelled at all has learned a few things. Many husbands have learned that when your wife says that she’s hungry, it's time to stop for lunch. Many wives have learned that when the sign says “Last rest area for 100 miles,” it’s wise to stop at the restroom. And certainly both of them have learned that the route they choose is very important to what their experience will be on the trip.

If you want to get somewhere in a hurry, you might choose to take the freeway. It’s the fastest route, but it’s also the most boring. If you see attractions along the road at all, you fly by them at 65 or 70 miles per hour and glimpse them in your rear-view mirror. It’s an efficient way to travel, but not terribly enriching.

Old major routes like the Dixie Highway or Rt. 40 are slower but lots more interesting. As you travel these roads, you might find a wonderful little ice cream parlor with vintage art deco trim; or a great mom and pop diner that serves homemade peanut butter pie! You’ll find everything that you need along the way of an old route – food, gas, and rest stops – but the pace will be slower, and the sights will be more accessible.

And then there are the back roads, the ones that don’t even have a route number. Back roads are the roads that lead you to completely unexpected experiences! You might travel for miles without ever seeing more than tiny clusters of homes that the world seems to have passed by. You might run across a rustic country store, or a old barn that an artist has turned into a studio for stained glass. You might even end up on a rutted dirt cow path when the road’s blacktop ends, and you have to turn around and retrace your route! You just never know what you’re going to find when you risk taking a back road.

When the wise men travelled to find the newborn king of the Jews, I imagine that they were very careful to take the best route. They probably took the Ancient Middle Eastern equivalent of I-70 all the way from Persia to Jerusalem. It was fast, and there were plenty of places to rest their camels and to buy food. When they got to Jerusalem, they took the exit marked “Herod’s Palace,” and they pulled into his parking lot to get directions. Herod sent them to Bethlehem along a main road; but once they got there, those wise men had to risk the back roads. After all, they didn’t really know where they were going! All they knew was that somewhere in Bethlehem was a newborn king; and they were determined to find him.

And they found him, all right. And he was as unexpected as the surprises that seem to be part and parcel of back roads. They didn’t find that newborn king in a palace, or even in the mayor’s house; they found him in a barn. Those wise men came face to face with the fact that this baby king didn’t look like any other baby king that they had ever seen! His parents weren’t wealthy nobles; they were peasants. But there was something about this child… When they offered him their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, he looked into their eyes with a wisdom that babies don’t usually possess. What was it about this child? When they were in his presence, they were unsettled and comforted, all at the same time!

When they left the manger, the wise men didn’t go back to Persia the same way that they got there. Matthew tells us that they returned home “by another way,” because they had been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod. Maybe they were warned by the same angel who had come to Joseph so many months earlier and reassured him about his upcoming marriage to Mary. At any rate, when they went back to Persia, they took the bypass – the outer belt all the way around Jerusalem. When they left the manger, they went by another way.

In this story, when Matthew says “by another way,” he means exactly that. The wise men used a different route out of Judea when they left the country. But it seems to me that “by another way” also has another meaning, a deeper one. A former pastor of mine is fond of saying, “No one who visits the manger returns home by the same way that he got there.” Unlike Matthew, he isn’t talking about physical roads, but about the spiritual changes that happen in our lives after we meet the Christ child.

How did you first get to the manger? People get there by many routes. The lifelong church members have always been at them manger. Their parents first brought them there. Others got there through a revival meeting, a Billy Graham crusade, or a preacher on TV. They realized one day that they weren’t at the manger, and they got off the couch and got in the car and drove down to the barn. Still others were invited by a friend who was concerned for their well-being. But the route we took to get here doesn’t really matter. What matters is the route we take when we leave.

Nowadays many of us use GPS systems to decide what route we will use. They’re those gadgets that you can put on your dashboard or that come in your smart phone. A GPS system calculates the best route to take when you’re going somewhere. You just punch in the place you want to go and the GPS tells you, step by step, how to get there. But the problem with GPS systems is that they are centered on us. They take us the way that we want to go. If we’re in a hurry, they direct us to freeways. If we want to see the sights, they direct us to side roads. Some can even direct us around traffic jams! But when we leave the manger, we should be relying on God instead of on our GPS system. God will direct us to routes that we would never have taken if the choice were up to us. Sometimes God takes us on the freeway; but more often, he directs us to those back roads that surprise us with things that we never expected to find.

For example, God might route us through a neighborhood where thin, ragged children play in the streets in front of run-down homes with broken windows and parking lots filled with broken glass. “Here are your brothers and sisters,” we can hear God whisper. “Now, what are you going to do about it?” Or we might find ourselves on a road that runs past a nursing home full of lonely residents. “Can’t we spare an extra half hour?” God asks from the back seat. “I’ll bet that someone in there would appreciate a visit.” And sometimes, right in the middle of all our busyness and efficiency and productivity, God sends us up a dead-end street. There’s no place to go – no more road! Maybe those are the times that God wants us to just stop for a while and rest and think about where we’re going in our life. We’d never take that time on our own.

Now, the roads that God sends us on as we leave the manger can be a little scary. After all, we don’t know where we are going; and we aren’t sure where we are going to find what we need. Unlike the freeways that we choose ourselves, God’s back roads don’t have any rest areas. But God takes care of that, too. As we leave the manger to go back to our daily lives, God feeds us, just like he fed the Israelites in the wilderness during the exodus. Only instead of feeding us with manna, he feeds us with himself. The sacrament of Holy Communion that we share this morning isn’t just a remembrance of betrayal and suffering that happened two thousand years ago. Of course, it is that – but it is also a reminder of the nourishment that God offers us every single day, regardless of the road that we are taking. This table is a reminder that the living presence of Jesus Christ is always available to give us what we need most: acceptance, forgiveness, guidance, insight, and courage.

I don’t know what road you are on this morning. I don’t know whether it is an easy road or one that is difficult. I don’t know whether it is filled with joy or laden with sorrow. And I don’t know how long you’ve been traveling on it – a few days, a few years, or your entire life. But whatever road you are travelling, I invite you here, to the table of the Lord, to be fed with the Bread of Life and to be refreshed with living water. As we travel along roads that the world doesn’t even know, this isn’t just a rest area or a way station. This is our home.

Fear Not!

This sermon that I preached the Sunday after Christmas considers why the angel who announced Jesus' birth to the shepherds began with "Fear not!" and why we might need to hear that message again today. If you choose to read it, you might think about the fears that you have regarding God and the way that God works.

There are some scripture passages that everybody knows. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Everybody knows that line from the 23^rd Psalm. “In my Father’s house, there are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” Almost everyone knows that one, too, from the Gospel of John. And this one: “Fear not! For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will be to all people. For to you is born this day a savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Those words that the angel spoke to the shepherds on that first Christmas are in our cultural consciousness. People might not know that they come from the Gospel of Luke; but even non-Christians know that they have something to do with Christmas. Many more who don’t know the details of the story know that an angel spoke these words. These are very familiar words to most of us.

But familiarity can sometimes be a problem. We know this story of the shepherds and the angel so well that when we hear it, we miss how astounding it really is! Even more troubling, we are tempted to read it as history – something that happened once upon a time – and miss what it has to say to us here in the 21^st century. But it has a message for us here and now – a message that we really need to hear.

We all know the story. A group of shepherds are watching their flocks in the fields at night. It’s a night like any other night – dark, quiet, and unexceptional. Suddenly, in the middle of that dark, quiet, unexceptional night, an angel appears right in front of them – an angel who is surrounded by God’s glory! Luke tells us that they were terrified!

It seems a bit of an overreaction, doesn’t it? But if you consider that those shepherds suddenly found themselves not only in the presence of an angel, but surrounded by the glory of God, that terror makes sense. Today, we see God’s glory as revealed in the person of Jesus Christ: the merciful savior who went to the cross on our behalf. But these shepherds didn’t know anything about that. All they knew about was the glory of God as the Old Testament describes it. And God’s glory was a dangerous and terrifying thing. In the Old Testament, God’s glory surrounded God like an aura. To be in the presence of God’s glory was to be in the presence of God himself. And everyone knew that no human being could possibly survive in the presence of God. That’s why Isaiah, seeing God in the Temple, cried out, “Woe is me! I am lost!” (Isaiah 6:5) Anyone who came into God’s presence unprepared would be consumed by God’s glory. Those shepherds knew that they were in a very dangerous place. The angel was frightening enough; but to be surrounded by God’s glory… Why, they expected to be burned into ashes at any second!

And so, before they go any further, the angel reassured them. “Fear not!” said the angel. At least, that’s the way that the King James Version puts it. “Fear not! I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people!” Well, of course, we think; what would the angel bring but good news? But to those shepherds, the glory of God might well bring anything but good news! The Old Testament is full of prophecies that reassure us of our ultimate salvation; but it is also full of prophecies that threaten us with destruction. Consider this text from the prophet Isaiah, for example (24:1-3). “The Lord is about to lay waste the earth and make it desolate. He will twist its surface and scatter its inhabitants. It shall be, as with the people, so with the priest; as with the slave, so with his master; as with the maid, so with her mistress… The earth shall be utterly laid waste and utterly despoiled; for the Lord has spoken this word.”

According to the Old Testament, God’s glory announces judgment and destruction just as often as it offers salvation. What were the shepherds to think? They hardly ever worshipped in the Jerusalem Temple. According to the religious authorities, they were ritually unclean, and therefore unacceptable to God. They gambled and cheated and fought and used foul language. In short, they were pretty much like many of us are today! Did God’s glory announce their salvation or their destruction? If I had been one of those shepherds, I know what I would have thought!

We know the answer, of course. God’s glory on that first Christmas night announced not destruction, but the greatest salvation that humanity had ever imagined. And once the angel put their fears to rest, he announced exactly that: the good news of great joy which will be to all people – the birth of the Messiah, Jesus Christ. It was good news to the shepherds, and it is still good news to us today! But I suspect that many of us still need to hear what the angel said to the shepherds. “Fear not!” “Don’t be afraid!”

Because we are afraid! When we feel ourselves surrounded by the glory of God, some of us – like the shepherds – are afraid that God has come not to save us, but to punish us. We get that idea from all kinds of folks who don’t have a clue as to what God is doing, but who somehow think that they have a hot line to God’s intentions. Confident TV preachers, for example, tell us that hurricanes and tornadoes are God’s punishment for our sin. Some of them warn us that God has abandoned our country because of our tolerance for diversity. And, of course, we watch that fine church from the Midwest picketing the funerals of soldiers, all in the name of a God who kills brave men and women because – they say – God hates gays. No wonder that so many people are afraid of God’s glory! They feel that they have to walk on eggshells so that they don’t risk offending a deity who might use wind or lightning or even bullets against them!

Other people are afraid of God for the opposite reason. These folks believe that the angel meant exactly what he said when he announced peace on earth. The trouble is that we are the ones that God expects will help to bring it about. If that’s the case, then we should start behaving like Jesus did; and that is a frightening possibility. If we are going to behave like Jesus, then we should be seeking power in humility instead of in money or social position. Instead of arming ourselves to the teeth with handguns and assault rifles; we should be turning the other cheek, and praying for the people who want to do us harm. Instead of making plans based on our own whims, we should be listening to God’s guidance. Even more frightening than the possibility that God might punish us is the possibility that God might actually work the way that the gospel says he does – quietly, in out-of-the-way places that nobody notices, in the hearts and minds of people just like you and me. We might be afraid of a God who uses violence to get his way, but we can deal with it. After all, that’s the way that we do things! But a God who insists on being powerful through humility – that frightens some people to death!

To those who are afraid that God is poised to punish them, and to those who are afraid that God expects us to give us our worldly ways of power and violence, the angel has the same message – “Fear not!” God’s glory is here to save us – from our fears, from destruction, and from ourselves. Don’t be afraid. It really is good news of great joy for all people. God has come among us to save us! Rejoice! Christ is born!