I Didn't Do Anything!

 Do we earn the blessings that we enjoy in our lives? Most people would say "yes." I agree with them -- but only to a point. And whether we say "yes" or "no" influences what we do with those blessings. Do we share them... or hang on to them tightly. Maybe this sermon will make you think about your blessings in a different way.

“I didn’t do anything!” Now, I ask you, what kind of statement is that? Is it a protest? Is it a confession? Or is it a lament? Let’s take a look at the possibilities.

Anyone who has ever been around children will probably see this statement as a protest. When they are accused of having some part in mischief, most children will immediately cry, “But I didn’t do anything!” Does that sound familiar?

Imagine this scene. Mother is folding laundry in the bedroom while Billy is watching Sesame Street. Suddenly, a huge crash echoes from the kitchen. Mother rushes in, and is greeted by fragments of the ceramic cookie jar spread all over the floor. “What happened?” Mother cries. Billy doesn’t skip a beat. “I didn’t do anything,” he says innocently.

Now, we all know that the cookie jar didn’t jump off the counter and commit suicide all by itself. Billy gave it some help. After all, he was the only other person in the house at the time! But it’s human nature to try to hide our crimes. All of us have said, “But I didn’t do anything!” at one time or another.

But that statement can be understood in another way. Sometimes when we say, “I didn’t do anything,” it’s not a protest; it’s a confession. When we are adult enough to realize that we enjoy benefits that we did nothing at all to deserve, then we confess, “But I didn’t do anything.” The Israelites weren’t very good at admitting that. The scripture reading this morning (Deuteronomy 8:7-18) is a portion of the book of Deuteronomy, the great sermon that Moses delivered to the Israelites as they stood on the very threshold of the Promised Land. “Now remember,” he tells them, “one of these days you’re going to have it pretty good. On that day, you’ll be tempted to say, ‘Hey, look at all the things I have! I’ve done pretty well for myself, haven’t I?’ Well, don’t fool yourselves. Remember that it was God who gave you all those things! You really didn’t do anything at all to deserve them.”

We Americans give in to that temptation all the time. Our culture just loves to brag about successful people who look like they have made it all by themselves. We admire people who have “pulled themselves up by their bootstraps.” In fact, there is a philosophy lurking in the bushes these days that says that we should all just leave one another alone! Let all our neighbors fend for themselves! That’ll weed out the hard workers from the people who only sponge off everyone else. And it sounds really good! After all, there’s nothing wrong with hard work. Hard work is a good thing! Hard work is, in fact, a big part of being successful. But hard work alone can’t earn all the blessings that we enjoy every day. The reality is that “we didn’t do anything” to deserve the good life that we all have. Don’t believe me? Let me ask you a few questions.

Did you get an education? Great! You studied hard, and you applied that education in the jobs that you held later in life! But where do you think your school system came from? Other people set it into place without any help from you. In many places in the world, there is no education system. Or it’s only for the very wealthy. Or it’s only for boys. You took advantage of our system – but beyond that, you didn’t do anything. And by the way, that good brain that you have – you were born with it. You didn’t do anything to get it.

Maybe you own a business. Wonderful! Whether it’s a farm or a grocery store or a beauty shop, you worked hard to make it a success. But – how did you get it in the first place? Did you inherit it from your parents? You didn’t do anything to bring that about, did you? It was pure chance that you were born into the family that you were. Maybe you didn’t inherit it, but took out a small business loan, instead. Many places in the world don’t offer small business loans. If you aren’t born into a wealthy family – well, too bad for you!

Are you beginning to see why I claim that the confession, “I didn’t do anything” applies to every single one of us? It even applies to our church! Most of you know that Nashville has received a considerable sum of money as a bequest from a former member. Did we do anything to deserve it? Nope. The fact is that there are millions of small, friendly, faithful churches just like ours who need money just as much as we do. We were simply blessed enough to receive it. What did we do to earn this gift? Not a darn thing!

“I didn’t do anything.” A protest; a confession; and one more thing: a lament. It’s the lament of Marley’s ghost in the story A Christmas Carol.

You all know that story. Jacob Marley was the partner of Ebeneezer Scrooge; and two more grasping, miserly men were never found upon the face of the earth. Marley visits Scrooge on Christmas Eve, begging him to change his ways, and confessing that he is eternally condemned because of the way he conducted his business. “But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” Scrooge replies. “Business?” cries the ghost. “Mankind was my business! Charity, mercy, and benevolence were all my business! Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down?”

“I didn’t do anything.” That was Jacob Marley’s bitter lament.

“I could have shared some of my wealth with others who needed it desperately, but I didn’t do anything.”

“I could have tried to understand their troubles instead of congratulating myself on my success, but I didn’t do anything.”

“I could have made a difference in the lives of people who were frightened and neglected and lonely, but I didn’t do anything.”

Marley’s ghost was beyond all help. My spirit, he tells Scrooge, “is doomed to wander through the world… and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.” But we are not doomed to that fate. The world is full of chances for us to offer the help that we are able to offer because of the blessings that we have received.

People in West Milton and in Tipp City and in Troy need our help.

People in Chicago and in New York City and in Los Angeles need our help.

People in Nicaragua and in Colombia and in Kenya need our help.

And we have help to offer them! This congregation has a long tradition of responsible stewardship, of sharing what we have with those who have needs that we can help satisfy.  Empowered by the Spirit, we will continue to do all kinds of things that extend God’s love in our own neighborhood and around the world in the name of Jesus Christ. That, friends, is the greatest blessing of all. We need never say, “I didn’t do anything.”

God's Vision

What does God see that we do not? Or, more to the point, what could we see if we looked at the world using God's eyes instead of our own? Too often, we see only what is written in large, bold letters, and overlook what seems insignificant. This sermon -- my first after returning from a denominational meeting in Long Beach, California -- considers just this question.

Let me give you some background information about this morning's scripture reading (Habakkuk 2:1-3). Oh, it’s a great reading all by itself. But if I set this reading in its historical context, it might have even more meaning for you.

Habakkuk was a prophet who lived in the southern kingdom of Judah, probably 600 years before Christ. If we read from the first chapter of the book, we would find that he is dismayed at what he sees around him. “Why do you make me look at injustice?” he asks God. “Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are all around me. There is strife, and conflict abounds. The law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted (1:3, 4). Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?” (1:13) In other words, what is wrong with you, God? The world is all messed up! Things shouldn’t be the way that they are! Why, Habakkuk has begun to wonder if God is even on the job anymore.

Things haven’t changed much, have they? We can echo Habakkuk’s complaint almost word for word. “Destruction and violence are all around me.” That’s for sure, especially if we live in some Chicago neighborhoods. “Conflict abounds. The law is paralyzed.” He might as well be talking about our Congress. They can’t get agree on enough to get even the simplest bipartisan bill passed. “The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.” Yeah, there are plenty of wicked folks around. Oh, we can’t agree on who they are. Some people call them Big Government, while others call them Big Business. Democrats call them Republicans and Republicans call them Democrats. And all of us call them lobbyists and special interest groups. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what we call them. They’re wicked; and they’re as thick as fleas!

In his frustration, Habakkuk goes to the highest point on the city walls – up on the ramparts – and he issues God a challenge. “Talk to me, God! What’s going on, anyway? Why are things the way they are?” And then, this verse began the scripture reading this morning: “I will look to see what God will say to me, and what answer he will give to my complaint.” (2:1) I wonder if Habakkuk even expected a response! Well, God gave him one. “I have a vision,” God replied, “and what a vision it is! I want you to write it down so that everybody can see it. It’s not here yet, but it will be one of these days, I promise. Just keep looking for it…”

God’s vision. What God sees is very different than what we see! What does God see that we do not? What is God showing us that we’re overlooking? What vision is God talking about?

“God’s Vision” was the theme of this year’s General Synod, the gathering of the whole United Church of Christ that takes place every two years. I was once again a delegate from the Ohio Conference. From the moment that we walked through the door of the convention center in Long Beach, California, we were reminded that God has a vision – a vision not just for the church, but for all humanity. Signs on every wall proclaimed aspects of that vision. It’s a vision of beauty, blessing, and laughter. It’s a vision of compassion, understanding, and embrace. It’s a vision of equality, inclusion, and healing. It’s a vision of forgiveness and mercy and grace.

For six whole days, we celebrated that vision together. Now, we were reminded that we are a long, long way from its fulfillment. But we were also reminded that we can see it around us if we take the time to look for it; and if we ask God for the eyes to see it. I glimpsed it at General Synod more than once.

I caught God’s vision of healing in the rainbow scarves that were carried, mailed, or delivered to General Synod. Let me tell you a little bit about those scarves. Over a year ago, members of the UCC were challenged to knit rainbow scarves to symbolize our solidarity with folks who are bullied. Millions of people, you know, both young and old, are bullied on a daily basis. Maybe they’re not smart enough. Maybe they’re too smart. Maybe they’re gay – or people think that they are. Maybe they just don’t fit in. In solidarity with any and all of these folks, UCC members knit scarves. Our UCC leadership hoped to collect 2 or 3 thousand scarves. Over 10,000 were collected. Each scarf came with a pledge to resist bullying in any and all of its forms. God’s healing is all around us.

I caught a vision of community during our Sunday afternoon worship. That Sunday worship is open not just to delegates and registered visitors, but to anyone who wants to worship with us. This year, over 3,000 worshippers gathered in the convention hall. I sat not in front of the stage where the Ohio Conference sat to do its work, but in the back, feeling just a little bit overwhelmed. Several folks wearing identical tee shirts sat down next to me. The woman who was sitting the closest introduced herself – Janet, from Altadena United Church of Christ in the foothills of Southern California. We struck up a conversation, and discovered that we had a lot in common. Her congregation is like this one: rural, aging, on the smallish side, but with lots of love and big dreams for the future. Before worship was over on that day, we had promised to pray for each other, Janet and I, and for each other’s congregations. So don’t be surprised if a reminder to pray for Altadena UCC appears in our worship bulletin. After all, we are all a part of one loving community as we worship the same God, serve the same Christ, and are empowered by the same Spirit even though we are physically so far apart.

And I caught God’s vision of inclusion as we celebrated the diversity of delegates who gathered in Long Beach, California. We were men, women, gay, straight, and transgendered. We came together from around the country. We – or our ancestors – came from all over the world: Africa, Alaska, Mexico, China, Europe, Japan, Central and South America, and everywhere in between. Many of us were differently abled. Some had mobility issues and used scooters to navigate the convention center. Others needed assistance with sight or hearing. Still others requested our patience as they communicated with what we call speech impediments. All are God’s children, and are precious in God’s sight. All are included at the table, and all are welcome there.

Now, it’s hard to keep God’s vision in our eyes when we live in a world that’s so full of suffering and deception. But if we don’t hang on to God’s vision, we risk becoming cynical and jaded. We risk losing hope – and hope is a big part of God’s vision.

On the evening of the Fourth of July, as I was recovering from my trip and from the three-hour time difference between Ohio and California, I discovered that one of my favorite movies was on TV – The Music Man. For those of you who may not be familiar with the story, The Music Man concerns Professor Harold Hill, a traveling salesman who represents himself as a musician who organizes boys’ bands. In reality, he can’t read a note of music. He intends to collect money for uniforms and band instruments, and then get out of town before anybody catches on to the scam. The climax of the movie comes when he is caught and hauled before a meeting of the townspeople. His goose is cooked. The townspeople are even muttering about tar and feathers. Then Marian the librarian stands up. “Do you remember what this town was like before he came here?” she asks? “And do you realize how much he has changed it?” She has seen what the townspeople have not. They have focused on the fact that he is a crook – and he is. They have focused on the fact that he has no idea at all how to organize and lead a band – and he doesn’t. They have focused on the fact that their hard-earned dollars have gone for uniforms that might never be worn and for instruments that might never be played. And they are absolutely correct!

But Marian has seen something else. She has seen him unite the bickering school board into a barbershop quartet, their bitter quarrels turned into beautiful harmony. She has seen the town youth begin to believe in themselves and in their ability to create something worthwhile, even though they only live in an out-of-the-way place called River City, Iowa. And she has seen her brother change profoundly. From a withdrawn boy grieving his father’s death, so ashamed of his lisp that he will not even speak; he has been transformed into a happy, outgoing young man who looks forward to the future with joy. Oh, yes, her vision is very different than the vision of everyone else in town.

Now, I don’t want to put too much emphasis on a movie. After all, a movie is only meant to entertain us… isn’t it? But it does make me wonder. What does God see that we do not?

Is it possible that joy and laughter and grace are just as real – and just as powerful – as deception and pain and suffering? What would happen if we would focus on God’s gifts of community and inclusion and healing?

The book of Habakkuk ends with this verse (3:19) – “The Sovereign Lord is my strength. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer. He enables me to stand on the heights.” My prayer for all of you, and for all God’s people, whoever they are and wherever they may be, is that we might catch the vision that God offers us. Then we will truly stand on the heights, for we will see with God’s eyes. When we do – and someday we will – on that joyous day, we will see forever!