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.
No comments:
Post a Comment