Rev. George Miller
Psalm 50:1-7, 23
“Chatter”
Feb 26, 2012
Silence
Was the sound
Before the world was created
No plants
No creatures
No land
Just silence
In nothingness
The breath of God moved
Across the waters of emptiness
Filled with unlimited possibilities
Silence, until a voice
The Voice
Finally broke through
And said
“Let there be light!”
And there was the light of sun and moon
And life in the shape of fish and people
And the sound of birds filling the sky
And it was good
Silence
Small and sheer
Almost impossible to hear
Greeted the prophet Elijah
In the mountaintop cave
He had run away too
Elijah expected to hear the sounds of God
In the fire
In the earthquake
In the cracking of trees
But instead
God appeared in the fullness
Of silence
Complete, quiet, strong
And God spoke
Silence enfolded the shepherds
Tending their flock
Nothing but mountains around
Until
In great victorious harmony
Angels filled the sky
Breaking the silence of the night
With songs praising God
A heavenly chorus singing
Joy to the World!
Silence
In the form of death
Began the Easter morn
Women filled with grief
Afraid and yet so very brave
Made their way to the tomb
Expecting no sounds
No songs
No trumpets
And came to discover
The stone had been rolled away
And an angel proclaimed
“He Lives! He Lives!
He Lives!”
Silence
The emptiest of empties
Holding so much fullness
So much life
So many possibilities
Silence is a blank canvas
Waiting
To be painted with
the Word of God.
Chatter-so much chatter!
So much we bombard our ears
Chatter, so much chatter
TV, radio, headphones, car stereos
Talking on the phone
Talking all the time
He said, she said
The president said
The comedian said
My stylist said
Chatter, so much chatter
Blocking out the birds
Blocking out the words of the prophets
Blocking out the songs of angels
Blocking out the Good News
God wants us to hear.
How can we say that God is
Still Speaking
If we are not quite long enough
To hear?
Today’s scripture assures us that
God is Still Speaking
Loudly
Through the earth
In the heavens
Demanding attention
But what God has to say
We may not want to hear
We have failed God
We are not following God’s desires
For us
We are not as grateful
As we should be
We have been hypocritical
Bull headed
Using our lips to chatter gossip
About family and friends
Praising God only because
We think God needs it to exist
Not because it is we who need God.
God’s harsh words
In today’s Psalm
Holds us accountable
And it can be so hard
for our ears to hear
So perhaps, perhaps
That is why it’s so difficult
For us to stay silent
To be still
And to know that God
Not we
Is God
The more we chatter
The more we tell God what
We need
The less we have to hear
What it is God wants
What God desires;
what God deserves
BUT-
Here is the Good News:
What God wants,
What God desires
Is simple
what God wants is true:
For us to give honest signs of gratitude
And for us to do what we know
We should do
To tell us this
God speaks through the birds
Whose songs remind us
That each morning is a gift
And that even after the worst of storms,
Life goes on
God spoke through the prophets, like Elijah
To remind us that
Each person’s life is a gift
And that even after the worst of storms,
Life goes one
God spoke through the Son
Born in a manger
Whose cries were first heard
By the shepherds
A Son who spoke words
By the sea, in the fields
Atop the mountains
Reminding us that the Kingdom of God
Is already here
for those who can see
and for those who can hear
His words
At the table
Ensured that we are fed
His words on the cross
Ensured that we are
Forgiven
His words on Easter morn
Ensured that life prevails
Even when faced with the
sting of death
Because of all these things
In Jesus we have someone
We can turn to
We can talk to
Someone we can listen to
To be reminded of how we are loved
To be reminded of how much we matter
But in order to hear
We have to be willing to
Let go of the chatter long enough
So we will know
That the Still Speaking Voice
Loves us more then we
Could ever love ourselves
And because we are loved
We can offer our truest thanks
And we can live with one another
The best that we are able
That because we are loved
We can let go of the chatter
And listen to the voice
Breaking the silence
That says:
I am God
So you don’t have to be.
Are we willing to
Find ways to be silent long enough
If so, let us say “Amen.”
A UCC Pastor's walk through the spiritual waters of Scripture, pop culture and life.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Sermon for Feb 19, 2012; Mark 9:2-9
Rev. George Miller
Mark 9:2-9
“Changed”
Feb 19, 2012
If you were asked to pick one scene from a movie to show people what it means to be an American, what would it be?
There are so many choices; for me this would be the scene (show clip). The end of The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy realizes that the power of returning to Kansas existed within her the whole time, and that there is no place like home.
It’s been said that the popularity of The Wizard of Oz rests in the fact that it is all our story.
What does it mean to be American? To have a place to call home. After all, almost all of us have ancestors who left their native lands to come here in hopes of having a better way of life.
Americans are proud of where they live and what they call home, and if not, they move to a different location or dream of a place they can lay their roots down.
More often then not, like Dorothy, they discover home is not someplace over the rainbow, but where they find family, friends and purpose.
After all, don’t we all want an Aunty Em and Uncle Henry in our lives?
This is a poignant message today, because this week James and Judy are leaving to journey up north where they will have to make for themselves a new home.
Home is a concept that informs the biblical narratives. Adam and Eve were turned out of Eden. Abraham and Sarah leave their land to start a family. The Israelites wander the desert for years. The Exile forces people into a far off country.
And the Temple was destroyed not once, but twice, theologically leaving God homeless.
As a modern American culture that has found its residents moving around a lot and the housing market annihilated, how do we deal with the desire to have our own Kansas, our own Eden, our own place to call home?
Psalm 90:1-2 gives us a bit of an idea:
“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God.”
In other words: no matter when it is, no matter who you are, no matter where you are, it is the Lord who we can call home.
Think about that. Think about what home is in the best concept of the word.
Home should be the place we feel safe, we feel loved, we feel…present. Not stuck in the past; not worried about the future, but where we are in the here and now.
Home.
For today, knowing that we are about to bid goodbye to Jim and Judy, knowing that we are about to enter the season of Lent, let’s explore this notion of home a bit more.
Today’s reading is referred to as the Transfiguration of Jesus. It takes place six days after Jesus has shared with the disciples that he will soon suffer, die and rise again.
Understandably, his disciples do not understand this particular teaching; they do not want to hear about it, especially Peter who pulls Jesus off to the side to rebuke him.
But Jesus sticks to his story and nearly a week later he invites Peter and two others to go for a walk up the mountain.
When they arrive at the top, something unexpected happens: they experience the presence of Moses and Elijah; they hear the voice of God and they watch as light emanates from Jesus.
Peter, who had been disturbed by Jesus’ talk of death, is the one to speak up: “Teacher, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings for Moses, Elijah and for you.”
Scripture says Peter didn’t know what he was saying, but I think he did.
With the recent news that his trusted leader was going to die, with the reality that their lives would take a serious turn, I think Peter saw an opportunity to protect Jesus by keeping him up on the mountain.
Perhaps he thought that in this high, holy place no harm could befall his leader.
I think something else also took place: that in Jesus, Peter realized he had found a place to call home.
That Jesus was his dwelling place.
What do we know about Peter? He had a mother-in-law who was unwell. He was astounded and disturbed by Jesus’ teachings. And he was in the fishing industry with his brother.
If you know anyone who made their living off of the sea, you would know it’s in their blood, it is who they are. They have the sun and wind burnt faces to prove it; they have the weathered skin to show it.
To take them away from the water would be like taking away their breath and blood.
And yet, what happens to Peter when he has an encounter with Jesus? He leaves behind the salt and the sun; he leaves behind the nets that need mending and the smell of fish to follow Jesus.
Into town, across the land, even to the top of a mountain.
Can anything be further away from living off the sea then climbing all the way to the top of a mountain?
And yet, what is it Peter says when he experiences Jesus being transfigured?
He says “It is good for us to be here, let us make three dwellings.”
Dwellings, which can be another word for home.
I think that atop that mountain, Peter is so in the moment that he wants to stay there forever. I think that Peter, who had made a life for himself off of the sea, has discovered that in Jesus, he has found a home.
And in that realization, Peter has been changed for the good.
Today we are supposed to talk about how Jesus was transfigured, but I would rather talk about how, like Peter, we are changed when we encounter Jesus.
Instead of the shoulda-coulda-wouldas we find ourselves more in the now and joyfully looking towards the what-can-bes.
Instead of focusing on that which makes us ill or unclean, we focus on that which makes us feel well and alive.
In Jesus, the things that once terrified us stop having so much power over us. Instead of being limited by the things we’ve always done, we are freed up to climb new mountains and explore different lands.
While at the same time, in Jesus we experience some of our restlessness disappearing and turning into rootedness because we know just whose we are and in whose hands the future rests.
In Jesus we have a permanent home, one that can not be destroyed, but like a tent can be taken with us wherever we go, whatever it is we face.
In Jesus we are changed for the better.
We’ve witnessed this right here in our congregation. Our sermon writing students, some who faced their self doubt and fear of public speaking who each gave a word worthy of being heard.
Council members who stopped worrying about if they knew what they were doing and trusted in Christ that they are good enough and that God knows what God is doing.
Our recent widows and widowers living with broken hearts who have learned how to face their grief by becoming active in the church and within the community.
Last fall’s Global Mission Fair in which we went beyond all expectations and raised $2,000 for ShelterBox, giving those who have lost their homes a dwelling place.
I could go on and on.
In conclusion, Dorothy travels over the rainbow and down the yellow brick road and discovers that there is no place like home.
Psalm 90 wisely states that for all time the Lord is our dwelling place.
In today’s reading, Jesus goes up a mountain and is transfigured.
I would also say that Peter changes: that it in the presence of Christ he has found a home.
When the Lord is our home, we can go anywhere and anyplace and know that there is constant. That we still have roots.
No matter how many mountains we climb, no matter how often we move, no matter how many rainbows we go over, as long as we know the Lord is our dwelling place, we will all have a place we can turn to feel safe, to feel loved, and to feel present.
For that, we should all say “Amen” and “Amen.”
Mark 9:2-9
“Changed”
Feb 19, 2012
If you were asked to pick one scene from a movie to show people what it means to be an American, what would it be?
There are so many choices; for me this would be the scene (show clip). The end of The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy realizes that the power of returning to Kansas existed within her the whole time, and that there is no place like home.
It’s been said that the popularity of The Wizard of Oz rests in the fact that it is all our story.
What does it mean to be American? To have a place to call home. After all, almost all of us have ancestors who left their native lands to come here in hopes of having a better way of life.
Americans are proud of where they live and what they call home, and if not, they move to a different location or dream of a place they can lay their roots down.
More often then not, like Dorothy, they discover home is not someplace over the rainbow, but where they find family, friends and purpose.
After all, don’t we all want an Aunty Em and Uncle Henry in our lives?
This is a poignant message today, because this week James and Judy are leaving to journey up north where they will have to make for themselves a new home.
Home is a concept that informs the biblical narratives. Adam and Eve were turned out of Eden. Abraham and Sarah leave their land to start a family. The Israelites wander the desert for years. The Exile forces people into a far off country.
And the Temple was destroyed not once, but twice, theologically leaving God homeless.
As a modern American culture that has found its residents moving around a lot and the housing market annihilated, how do we deal with the desire to have our own Kansas, our own Eden, our own place to call home?
Psalm 90:1-2 gives us a bit of an idea:
“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God.”
In other words: no matter when it is, no matter who you are, no matter where you are, it is the Lord who we can call home.
Think about that. Think about what home is in the best concept of the word.
Home should be the place we feel safe, we feel loved, we feel…present. Not stuck in the past; not worried about the future, but where we are in the here and now.
Home.
For today, knowing that we are about to bid goodbye to Jim and Judy, knowing that we are about to enter the season of Lent, let’s explore this notion of home a bit more.
Today’s reading is referred to as the Transfiguration of Jesus. It takes place six days after Jesus has shared with the disciples that he will soon suffer, die and rise again.
Understandably, his disciples do not understand this particular teaching; they do not want to hear about it, especially Peter who pulls Jesus off to the side to rebuke him.
But Jesus sticks to his story and nearly a week later he invites Peter and two others to go for a walk up the mountain.
When they arrive at the top, something unexpected happens: they experience the presence of Moses and Elijah; they hear the voice of God and they watch as light emanates from Jesus.
Peter, who had been disturbed by Jesus’ talk of death, is the one to speak up: “Teacher, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings for Moses, Elijah and for you.”
Scripture says Peter didn’t know what he was saying, but I think he did.
With the recent news that his trusted leader was going to die, with the reality that their lives would take a serious turn, I think Peter saw an opportunity to protect Jesus by keeping him up on the mountain.
Perhaps he thought that in this high, holy place no harm could befall his leader.
I think something else also took place: that in Jesus, Peter realized he had found a place to call home.
That Jesus was his dwelling place.
What do we know about Peter? He had a mother-in-law who was unwell. He was astounded and disturbed by Jesus’ teachings. And he was in the fishing industry with his brother.
If you know anyone who made their living off of the sea, you would know it’s in their blood, it is who they are. They have the sun and wind burnt faces to prove it; they have the weathered skin to show it.
To take them away from the water would be like taking away their breath and blood.
And yet, what happens to Peter when he has an encounter with Jesus? He leaves behind the salt and the sun; he leaves behind the nets that need mending and the smell of fish to follow Jesus.
Into town, across the land, even to the top of a mountain.
Can anything be further away from living off the sea then climbing all the way to the top of a mountain?
And yet, what is it Peter says when he experiences Jesus being transfigured?
He says “It is good for us to be here, let us make three dwellings.”
Dwellings, which can be another word for home.
I think that atop that mountain, Peter is so in the moment that he wants to stay there forever. I think that Peter, who had made a life for himself off of the sea, has discovered that in Jesus, he has found a home.
And in that realization, Peter has been changed for the good.
Today we are supposed to talk about how Jesus was transfigured, but I would rather talk about how, like Peter, we are changed when we encounter Jesus.
Instead of the shoulda-coulda-wouldas we find ourselves more in the now and joyfully looking towards the what-can-bes.
Instead of focusing on that which makes us ill or unclean, we focus on that which makes us feel well and alive.
In Jesus, the things that once terrified us stop having so much power over us. Instead of being limited by the things we’ve always done, we are freed up to climb new mountains and explore different lands.
While at the same time, in Jesus we experience some of our restlessness disappearing and turning into rootedness because we know just whose we are and in whose hands the future rests.
In Jesus we have a permanent home, one that can not be destroyed, but like a tent can be taken with us wherever we go, whatever it is we face.
In Jesus we are changed for the better.
We’ve witnessed this right here in our congregation. Our sermon writing students, some who faced their self doubt and fear of public speaking who each gave a word worthy of being heard.
Council members who stopped worrying about if they knew what they were doing and trusted in Christ that they are good enough and that God knows what God is doing.
Our recent widows and widowers living with broken hearts who have learned how to face their grief by becoming active in the church and within the community.
Last fall’s Global Mission Fair in which we went beyond all expectations and raised $2,000 for ShelterBox, giving those who have lost their homes a dwelling place.
I could go on and on.
In conclusion, Dorothy travels over the rainbow and down the yellow brick road and discovers that there is no place like home.
Psalm 90 wisely states that for all time the Lord is our dwelling place.
In today’s reading, Jesus goes up a mountain and is transfigured.
I would also say that Peter changes: that it in the presence of Christ he has found a home.
When the Lord is our home, we can go anywhere and anyplace and know that there is constant. That we still have roots.
No matter how many mountains we climb, no matter how often we move, no matter how many rainbows we go over, as long as we know the Lord is our dwelling place, we will all have a place we can turn to feel safe, to feel loved, and to feel present.
For that, we should all say “Amen” and “Amen.”
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Sermon for 02 12 12; Mark 1:40-45
Rev. George Miller
Mark 1:40-45
“Choice”
Feb 12, 2012
This Tuesday is Valentine’s Day, and with it comes boxes of chocolates, vases of flowers and little candy hearts.
Those tasty, sugary candies that say things like “Be Mine”, “True Love” and “Choose Me.”
Which ties into today’s scripture, which I felt compelled to preach on because I find it quite uncomfortable.
My uncomfortablness stems from the verbal exchange between the man and Jesus, in which the man comes to Jesus and says “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
On a simple level, it sounds like a wonderful story, but my gut reaction was that by giving Jesus a choice, the man was setting himself up for the possibility of being told “No.”
If Jesus had said “I choice not”, what would that mean? And why did the man have to ask Jesus anyway? Why didn’t Jesus just see the man was in need and simply say “You are clean” without having to be asked?
Could Jesus have said no, and if so, what would that mean? Troubling indeed.
So today we will explore this story and hopefully by the end of this message, we’ll discover that more then a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers, God’s Valentine for us is the desire that we all live as fully and healthy as possible.
But first, a story. Last May I moved into a house on Dinner Lake: 2 kitchens, 2 ½ bathrooms, a porch big enough to live in, rose bushes, cactuses, fruit trees and a stunning view of the water.
I originally thought I’d have dinner parties and church gatherings. Then I discovered my house came with something else: rats, nasty, smelly, sneaky creatures that leave their dropping all over the place and gnaw holes through walls.
For about 6 weeks I tried to kill as many as I could. Glue traps worked for a bit, but it’s not pleasant waking up to the sound of a stuck rat flopping about.
Then they became too smart for the glue traps and snapping traps laced with peanut butter were laid out around the house.
But boy did those rats know how to get the treats without setting off the traps and my house began to smell like a school lunchroom.
Finally, by sealing off entranceways and using wisely placed poisonous treats they were gone, but the negative affects of having rats lingered. I felt violated and ashamed.
I’m a clean person, who keeps house the best that I can, yet having rats made me feel unclean and dirty, as if it was my fault.
Worse of all, I allowed the experience to socially close me down. I didn’t tell anyone what was really going on. I stopped inviting people over. I was worried what people would say.
So, in my embarrassment, I withdrew and went into myself, feeling helpless and alone.
Thankfully, a sense of healing and cleansing happened when I finally got over myself and shared my situation with others.
As it turns out I’m not the only one in Florida who has had to face the fury of four-legged furry rodents. There were others who were neat and had beautiful homes.
So it wasn’t me; it was simply the reality of living by the water in a state overrun with wildlife.
With that knowledge, I found myself reentering society, feeling more clean and whole then I had.
I share this because as far as I’m concerned, the issue of being clean is what’s really going on in this story.
Back then, the Hebrews were living under the Law of Moses, a collection of directives that were attributed to God, but probably involved some human tinkering.
Some of the laws made sense, like honoring your parents. Others seemed cruel.
For example, this law from Leviticus 13:45-46: “The person who has the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out ‘Unclean, unclean.’
“He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease; he is unclean. He shall live alone; his dwelling outside the camp.”
In other words, if you are living with leprosy, you no longer can wear nice clothes, do your hair or live in your home.
You are to live on the outskirts of town, away from everyone you know, and if you dare to be in the presence of others you must shout out the humiliating fact that you are unclean.
So, as bad as living with a chronic illness may be, you would also bear the loneliness of living apart from family, friends, or being able to participate in community worship.
No Valentine day cards or flowers for you.
Thus, the true hurt of being unclean came from the humiliation and isolation it caused.
Thankfully, God must have realized these laws were not working and lovingly gave us Jesus to restore and to cleanse us.
That, as far as I am concerned, is what this story today is really about. It’s not so much that the man is living with leprosy, but that he must do so alone, removed from everything that makes life good.
In today’s reading, Jesus is wandering about town, and through the crowd comes this man with a dreaded disease. If he is observing the Law, his clothes are torn, his hair is messed up and he’s shouting “Unclean, unclean” so people can scatter away.
With either blatant disregard for the Law, or in a sign of great faith (or perhaps both), he falls down before the Son of God and says “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
Note, he didn’t say “You can cure me.” He said “You can make me clean.”
I think what the man’s really saying to Jesus is “I’m done with this; I’m tired. I’m tired of not seeing family; I’m tried of not seeing friends. I’m tired of not worshipping in the synagogue. I want to resume my normal life, and it is only you who can help me.”
Jesus, moved with a sense of compassion, dared to touch the man and say “I choose.” And in saying this, Jesus allows him to resume his relationship with others.
Jesus didn’t just cleanse the man of his disease; he washed away the negative connotations that came with it which limited the man's ability to enjoy a full life and to be part of the community of worship.
Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.
But the question remains: why did the man have to ask him? Why couldn’t it just happen?
Perhaps the question is not “Can Jesus cleanse us?” but “Do we desire to be made clean?”
Think about it. Don’t we all know people who seem to actually enjoy being unwell? Don’t we know someone who always has a complaint to make, a condition to magnify?
There are those who like to hold a grudge. They like to be angry. Someone, some time did something wrong and they can not let it go; they dwell upon, hold onto it.
Because of this, they stop communicating with or avoid the person who they felt did them wrong.
If they are invited to a gathering and that person is there, they choose not to go. They call others on the phone to complain about what that person may or may not have done.
We also know those who define themselves by the series of bad luck they seem to have. If something bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen to them.
The waiter screws up their order. The airport lost their luggage. A black cat crossed their path causing them to slip on a banana peel and break a mirror.
And boy, do they talk about it, and talk about it, and talk about it, hoping to get a reaction and some sympathy.
Then, there are those who define themselves by their ailments. I’m not talking about people who are hospitalized or living with chronic illness, but those who always seem to have aches, pains, sprains and migraines.
Makes you wonder if some people are only happy when they are unhappy. And guess what: all of us have a bit of Drama Queen of Chaos King in us (I know I do).
So, with this in mind, maybe the nature of this story is that we can only be cleansed once we ourselves have reached the point that we are willing to be made clean.
That we can not be forced into wellness. We can not have someone else do it for us.
That no matter how much they suggest, cry and reach out to us, we have to want it, we have to seek it, that we ourselves have to come to the realization that we are sick and tired of being sick and tired.
If that is the case, then the good news comes from the fact that in Jesus Christ we have someone we can go to, to be made clean.
That in Christ, we have someone we can turn to with our symbolically ripped clothes, with our metaphorically mussed up hair and say with amazing faith and humble submission “I know God’s eye is on the sparrow, and I know that you can make me clean.”
And when we reach that point, Jesus’ choice is always for that to happen.
How that cleansing will look will be unique for each person, but the knowledge that Jesus chooses us is a knowledge that can lessen the pain and restore in us to some semblance of joy and community.
This doesn’t necessarily mean the disease or situation disappears, it doesn’t mean that there won’t be other battles to contend with.
What it means is that through Christ, the power of that issue, that situation, no longer has to have power over us.
When we come to Christ and fall on our knees, we will discover that we are free and able to return to our family, return to our friends, and to proclaim the good news.
And it is good news indeed.
In conclusion, there are so many things that will happen in our lives that could separate us from others if we are not careful. But in Christ, they do not have to.
So this week, let us remember that in Christ, God has already sent us the greatest valentine of all, better then flowers, better then a box of chocolates, better then candy hearts with witty sayings.
A valentine in the form of Jesus Christ, who came to show us what true love is.
In Jesus Christ, God has indeed chosen us; with that choice exists God’s desire that we all have a full, healthy life surrounded by family, friends and a place to worship.
Now it’s up to us to choose if we are going to accept that gift and just what we are going to do with it.
It’s not us waiting for Jesus to make the choice, but it is Christ who is waiting for us.
So, today, let it be us who say to Jesus “I choose.”
For that, we can say “Hallelujah” and we can say “Amen.”
Mark 1:40-45
“Choice”
Feb 12, 2012
This Tuesday is Valentine’s Day, and with it comes boxes of chocolates, vases of flowers and little candy hearts.
Those tasty, sugary candies that say things like “Be Mine”, “True Love” and “Choose Me.”
Which ties into today’s scripture, which I felt compelled to preach on because I find it quite uncomfortable.
My uncomfortablness stems from the verbal exchange between the man and Jesus, in which the man comes to Jesus and says “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
On a simple level, it sounds like a wonderful story, but my gut reaction was that by giving Jesus a choice, the man was setting himself up for the possibility of being told “No.”
If Jesus had said “I choice not”, what would that mean? And why did the man have to ask Jesus anyway? Why didn’t Jesus just see the man was in need and simply say “You are clean” without having to be asked?
Could Jesus have said no, and if so, what would that mean? Troubling indeed.
So today we will explore this story and hopefully by the end of this message, we’ll discover that more then a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers, God’s Valentine for us is the desire that we all live as fully and healthy as possible.
But first, a story. Last May I moved into a house on Dinner Lake: 2 kitchens, 2 ½ bathrooms, a porch big enough to live in, rose bushes, cactuses, fruit trees and a stunning view of the water.
I originally thought I’d have dinner parties and church gatherings. Then I discovered my house came with something else: rats, nasty, smelly, sneaky creatures that leave their dropping all over the place and gnaw holes through walls.
For about 6 weeks I tried to kill as many as I could. Glue traps worked for a bit, but it’s not pleasant waking up to the sound of a stuck rat flopping about.
Then they became too smart for the glue traps and snapping traps laced with peanut butter were laid out around the house.
But boy did those rats know how to get the treats without setting off the traps and my house began to smell like a school lunchroom.
Finally, by sealing off entranceways and using wisely placed poisonous treats they were gone, but the negative affects of having rats lingered. I felt violated and ashamed.
I’m a clean person, who keeps house the best that I can, yet having rats made me feel unclean and dirty, as if it was my fault.
Worse of all, I allowed the experience to socially close me down. I didn’t tell anyone what was really going on. I stopped inviting people over. I was worried what people would say.
So, in my embarrassment, I withdrew and went into myself, feeling helpless and alone.
Thankfully, a sense of healing and cleansing happened when I finally got over myself and shared my situation with others.
As it turns out I’m not the only one in Florida who has had to face the fury of four-legged furry rodents. There were others who were neat and had beautiful homes.
So it wasn’t me; it was simply the reality of living by the water in a state overrun with wildlife.
With that knowledge, I found myself reentering society, feeling more clean and whole then I had.
I share this because as far as I’m concerned, the issue of being clean is what’s really going on in this story.
Back then, the Hebrews were living under the Law of Moses, a collection of directives that were attributed to God, but probably involved some human tinkering.
Some of the laws made sense, like honoring your parents. Others seemed cruel.
For example, this law from Leviticus 13:45-46: “The person who has the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out ‘Unclean, unclean.’
“He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease; he is unclean. He shall live alone; his dwelling outside the camp.”
In other words, if you are living with leprosy, you no longer can wear nice clothes, do your hair or live in your home.
You are to live on the outskirts of town, away from everyone you know, and if you dare to be in the presence of others you must shout out the humiliating fact that you are unclean.
So, as bad as living with a chronic illness may be, you would also bear the loneliness of living apart from family, friends, or being able to participate in community worship.
No Valentine day cards or flowers for you.
Thus, the true hurt of being unclean came from the humiliation and isolation it caused.
Thankfully, God must have realized these laws were not working and lovingly gave us Jesus to restore and to cleanse us.
That, as far as I am concerned, is what this story today is really about. It’s not so much that the man is living with leprosy, but that he must do so alone, removed from everything that makes life good.
In today’s reading, Jesus is wandering about town, and through the crowd comes this man with a dreaded disease. If he is observing the Law, his clothes are torn, his hair is messed up and he’s shouting “Unclean, unclean” so people can scatter away.
With either blatant disregard for the Law, or in a sign of great faith (or perhaps both), he falls down before the Son of God and says “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
Note, he didn’t say “You can cure me.” He said “You can make me clean.”
I think what the man’s really saying to Jesus is “I’m done with this; I’m tired. I’m tired of not seeing family; I’m tried of not seeing friends. I’m tired of not worshipping in the synagogue. I want to resume my normal life, and it is only you who can help me.”
Jesus, moved with a sense of compassion, dared to touch the man and say “I choose.” And in saying this, Jesus allows him to resume his relationship with others.
Jesus didn’t just cleanse the man of his disease; he washed away the negative connotations that came with it which limited the man's ability to enjoy a full life and to be part of the community of worship.
Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.
But the question remains: why did the man have to ask him? Why couldn’t it just happen?
Perhaps the question is not “Can Jesus cleanse us?” but “Do we desire to be made clean?”
Think about it. Don’t we all know people who seem to actually enjoy being unwell? Don’t we know someone who always has a complaint to make, a condition to magnify?
There are those who like to hold a grudge. They like to be angry. Someone, some time did something wrong and they can not let it go; they dwell upon, hold onto it.
Because of this, they stop communicating with or avoid the person who they felt did them wrong.
If they are invited to a gathering and that person is there, they choose not to go. They call others on the phone to complain about what that person may or may not have done.
We also know those who define themselves by the series of bad luck they seem to have. If something bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen to them.
The waiter screws up their order. The airport lost their luggage. A black cat crossed their path causing them to slip on a banana peel and break a mirror.
And boy, do they talk about it, and talk about it, and talk about it, hoping to get a reaction and some sympathy.
Then, there are those who define themselves by their ailments. I’m not talking about people who are hospitalized or living with chronic illness, but those who always seem to have aches, pains, sprains and migraines.
Makes you wonder if some people are only happy when they are unhappy. And guess what: all of us have a bit of Drama Queen of Chaos King in us (I know I do).
So, with this in mind, maybe the nature of this story is that we can only be cleansed once we ourselves have reached the point that we are willing to be made clean.
That we can not be forced into wellness. We can not have someone else do it for us.
That no matter how much they suggest, cry and reach out to us, we have to want it, we have to seek it, that we ourselves have to come to the realization that we are sick and tired of being sick and tired.
If that is the case, then the good news comes from the fact that in Jesus Christ we have someone we can go to, to be made clean.
That in Christ, we have someone we can turn to with our symbolically ripped clothes, with our metaphorically mussed up hair and say with amazing faith and humble submission “I know God’s eye is on the sparrow, and I know that you can make me clean.”
And when we reach that point, Jesus’ choice is always for that to happen.
How that cleansing will look will be unique for each person, but the knowledge that Jesus chooses us is a knowledge that can lessen the pain and restore in us to some semblance of joy and community.
This doesn’t necessarily mean the disease or situation disappears, it doesn’t mean that there won’t be other battles to contend with.
What it means is that through Christ, the power of that issue, that situation, no longer has to have power over us.
When we come to Christ and fall on our knees, we will discover that we are free and able to return to our family, return to our friends, and to proclaim the good news.
And it is good news indeed.
In conclusion, there are so many things that will happen in our lives that could separate us from others if we are not careful. But in Christ, they do not have to.
So this week, let us remember that in Christ, God has already sent us the greatest valentine of all, better then flowers, better then a box of chocolates, better then candy hearts with witty sayings.
A valentine in the form of Jesus Christ, who came to show us what true love is.
In Jesus Christ, God has indeed chosen us; with that choice exists God’s desire that we all have a full, healthy life surrounded by family, friends and a place to worship.
Now it’s up to us to choose if we are going to accept that gift and just what we are going to do with it.
It’s not us waiting for Jesus to make the choice, but it is Christ who is waiting for us.
So, today, let it be us who say to Jesus “I choose.”
For that, we can say “Hallelujah” and we can say “Amen.”
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Sermon for Jan 22, 2012; 1 Corinthians 7:25-40
Rev. George Miller
1 Corinthians 7:25-40
“We Live”
Jan 22, 2012
From time to time, inquisitive people will ask me how I decide what to preach on each Sunday. Does the denomination dictate it or do I choose the scripture on my own?
More often then not, my answer is “The Lectionary”, or as it’s officially known “The Revised Common Lectionary.”
Simply put, a group of religious leaders and scholars got together and created a cycle of readings arranged in such a way that the major themes of the Bible can be covered in 3 years.
So each week there are anywhere from 4 to 6 suggested scriptures, from the Pentateuch, the Prophets, the Poets, the Gospels and the Epistles.
The Lectionary is helpful in keeping preachers on track, ensuring that congregations get to hear the full sweep of the biblical narrative and allowing a diversity of voices to be heard.
However, as inclusive as the Lectionary tries to be, it still leaves a lot out.
For example, today we heard this rather interesting piece from 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, but truth be told, the Lectionary only suggested we read verses 29-31.
“I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short; from now on, let even those with wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing and those who buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealing with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.”
Short and lovely, not to mention good news for those men who have grown a little weary of their maidens.
Yet, if we had just read the 3 suggested verses we would have missed all this mish-mash about virgins and impending crises, marriage and distress, anxiety and uncontrollable desires.
Just what, oh what, is really going on here? The only way to really know is to read what goes on before verse 29 and what is said after verse 31.
But more about that later.
I find it interesting to read this particular scripture during today’s political climate.
The topic of marriage has certainly been a hot button issue for years, hasn’t it?
There’s Focus on the Family, the Defense of Marriage Act, and now U.S. Bishops are blaming homosexual marriage for the erosion of their religious freedom.
Then there are the recent accusations from Gingrich’s 2nd wife that he tried to redraw the rules of his marriage while Romney is more then happy to use his long-term marriage as a marketing tool.
Marriage seems to be on the minds and newspapers and internet screens everywhere. And more often then not, what is used to uphold the sanctity of marriage? The Bible.
Yet, listen to the words of Paul: “Stay single. Unmarried men want to please the Lord; married men want to please their wives.”
Further, he writes “He who marries his fiancée does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better.”
Holy Sacred Cow! It’s as if Paul is anti-marriage.
Notice what is not said here: there is nothing about marriage being between one man and one woman or that marriage is for procreation’s sake.
Instead, Paul is saying “If you don’t have to get married, don’t; but if you can’t control your urges, go ahead.”
Imagine that as a campaign slogan. Could any candidate win with that mandate?
Sheer foolishness.
So what’s going on here? Why would Paul write a letter to a church in which he tries to discourage people from entering into holy matrimony?
It’s more then meets the eye. To understand Paul’s logic, we have to understand the situation during which Paul is writing.
You see, Paul is living during a time in which he and many others literally believe the world is going to end soon.
He believes that Jesus Christ is going to come back in his lifetime. That the Kingdom of God is at hand, so it makes no sense to bring about change or to start something new, like a marriage.
And it’s hard to fault Paul for this idea. After all, this notion of the soon-to-be-end- times appears throughout the scriptures.
For example, in Mark chapter 13 we have Jesus himself being quoted as saying that the current generation will not pass away until the Son of God comes to gather his elect.
So Paul, as many others, was waiting and alert for the day when the sun would be darkened, the stars would fall from the sky and Jesus would swoop in surfing on the clouds.
So, if this is what Paul believes, it would make sense that he would advocate for things to not be radically changed.
To get married right before the world ends would be the equivalent of falling in love before going to college, becoming engaged before leaving for war, and getting pregnant in the midst of a recession.
If the world is going to end, if the stars are soon going to fall, what sense does it make to fall in love, what sense would it make to get married, what sense would it make to bring children in the world only to experience moonless nights?
Paul’s rationale makes sense, but the thing is this: 2,000 years later, we are still here.
The sun still shines, the moon still lights the night and the stars still twinkle in the sky.
We live.
Yes, there are burdens; yes, there are trials and temptations, but we live.
I’ve been thinking lately about how some people talk about the way things used to be; about the golden age of America.
But I wonder: have things ever really been golden; has life ever really been that easy?
Has there ever been a decade free from fear and rally cries about it being the end-times?
In the 30’s it was the Depression. In the 40’s World War II. In the 50’s people built bomb shelters and school children hid under their desks.
Was that the golden age?
The 60’s saw Vietnam; the 70’s saw cars lined up at gas pumps. In the 80’s we had MTV.
In the 90’s we had Bush if you were a democrat; Clinton if you were a Republican.
Let’s not forget 9/11. 2 wars. The Recession, upcoming election, and the domination of Kim Kardashion.
Yet we are still here; and we live.
In the midst of worries, in the midst of fears, in the midst of media manipulation, we live.
We live our lives the best that we can.
We wake, we cook, we work, we dream. We continue to make friends, fall in love, make love and make plans for the future.
We do this with the knowledge that there is no certainty, with no assurance of what the future brings, with no idea of what lays beyond the river’s bend.
But as Christians, we live in a way that is different then the wisdom of the world.
We foolishly live with hope.
Hope that we know who holds the future. Hope that one day we will all be free.
Hope that the Kingdom of God is not only at hand, but that the Kingdom of God is already right here, right now.
That we don’t have to wait for falling skies or Christ scooting in on puffy clouds, but that we can experience and share the gifts of heaven today.
How can we do that? One way is by doing just what we are doing now; by worshipping God.
Not alone, or is separate corners of our world, but worshipping together in this safe space, in this holy time.
What a powerful way to show God our trust by joining together, to collectively offer our prayers, our sweet sounding songs and the tributes we bring.
We also live by forms of fellowship. The time we spend together, be it at a table, in the park or at the golf course.
Sharing of ourselves through stories and conversation, the jokes we tell, the tears we shed.
The intimate details told over a game of cards, the welcoming of 400 people to homemade spaghetti, and the visit to a hospital room.
Two marks that a Christian community isn’t afraid to live are worship and fellowship. A third can be acts of compassion.
Compassion; the act of emulating Christ by thinking beyond one’s self and one’s situation to reach out to another.
Compassion: the ability to be present in empathy and to say “No matter who you are or what you are going through, I am here for you.”
Compassion: the way to physically show the presence and love of Christ to a world that seems to be holding its breath in uncertainty.
Yes, we live.
As Christians, we live.
As the Body of Christ, we live.
Not because we are in denial of the world’s issues, not because we don’t believe there are dark valleys everywhere, but because we know that in Christ we are given the gifts and the ability to make our lives more then what the world’s wisdom wants to say.
In conclusion, we know that as Christians, our ability to worship, to fellowship and to show compassion gives us the strength to love, to live, to rise above our fears and to believe in another day.
Who knows when the appointed time will be; but at least we know that when the journeys of the sun and the moon comes to an end, we’ll be in the hands of God, filled with the Spirit, and Jesus Christ shall reign forever, with no end.
For that, we can say “Amen” and “amen.”
1 Corinthians 7:25-40
“We Live”
Jan 22, 2012
From time to time, inquisitive people will ask me how I decide what to preach on each Sunday. Does the denomination dictate it or do I choose the scripture on my own?
More often then not, my answer is “The Lectionary”, or as it’s officially known “The Revised Common Lectionary.”
Simply put, a group of religious leaders and scholars got together and created a cycle of readings arranged in such a way that the major themes of the Bible can be covered in 3 years.
So each week there are anywhere from 4 to 6 suggested scriptures, from the Pentateuch, the Prophets, the Poets, the Gospels and the Epistles.
The Lectionary is helpful in keeping preachers on track, ensuring that congregations get to hear the full sweep of the biblical narrative and allowing a diversity of voices to be heard.
However, as inclusive as the Lectionary tries to be, it still leaves a lot out.
For example, today we heard this rather interesting piece from 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, but truth be told, the Lectionary only suggested we read verses 29-31.
“I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short; from now on, let even those with wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing and those who buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealing with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.”
Short and lovely, not to mention good news for those men who have grown a little weary of their maidens.
Yet, if we had just read the 3 suggested verses we would have missed all this mish-mash about virgins and impending crises, marriage and distress, anxiety and uncontrollable desires.
Just what, oh what, is really going on here? The only way to really know is to read what goes on before verse 29 and what is said after verse 31.
But more about that later.
I find it interesting to read this particular scripture during today’s political climate.
The topic of marriage has certainly been a hot button issue for years, hasn’t it?
There’s Focus on the Family, the Defense of Marriage Act, and now U.S. Bishops are blaming homosexual marriage for the erosion of their religious freedom.
Then there are the recent accusations from Gingrich’s 2nd wife that he tried to redraw the rules of his marriage while Romney is more then happy to use his long-term marriage as a marketing tool.
Marriage seems to be on the minds and newspapers and internet screens everywhere. And more often then not, what is used to uphold the sanctity of marriage? The Bible.
Yet, listen to the words of Paul: “Stay single. Unmarried men want to please the Lord; married men want to please their wives.”
Further, he writes “He who marries his fiancée does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better.”
Holy Sacred Cow! It’s as if Paul is anti-marriage.
Notice what is not said here: there is nothing about marriage being between one man and one woman or that marriage is for procreation’s sake.
Instead, Paul is saying “If you don’t have to get married, don’t; but if you can’t control your urges, go ahead.”
Imagine that as a campaign slogan. Could any candidate win with that mandate?
Sheer foolishness.
So what’s going on here? Why would Paul write a letter to a church in which he tries to discourage people from entering into holy matrimony?
It’s more then meets the eye. To understand Paul’s logic, we have to understand the situation during which Paul is writing.
You see, Paul is living during a time in which he and many others literally believe the world is going to end soon.
He believes that Jesus Christ is going to come back in his lifetime. That the Kingdom of God is at hand, so it makes no sense to bring about change or to start something new, like a marriage.
And it’s hard to fault Paul for this idea. After all, this notion of the soon-to-be-end- times appears throughout the scriptures.
For example, in Mark chapter 13 we have Jesus himself being quoted as saying that the current generation will not pass away until the Son of God comes to gather his elect.
So Paul, as many others, was waiting and alert for the day when the sun would be darkened, the stars would fall from the sky and Jesus would swoop in surfing on the clouds.
So, if this is what Paul believes, it would make sense that he would advocate for things to not be radically changed.
To get married right before the world ends would be the equivalent of falling in love before going to college, becoming engaged before leaving for war, and getting pregnant in the midst of a recession.
If the world is going to end, if the stars are soon going to fall, what sense does it make to fall in love, what sense would it make to get married, what sense would it make to bring children in the world only to experience moonless nights?
Paul’s rationale makes sense, but the thing is this: 2,000 years later, we are still here.
The sun still shines, the moon still lights the night and the stars still twinkle in the sky.
We live.
Yes, there are burdens; yes, there are trials and temptations, but we live.
I’ve been thinking lately about how some people talk about the way things used to be; about the golden age of America.
But I wonder: have things ever really been golden; has life ever really been that easy?
Has there ever been a decade free from fear and rally cries about it being the end-times?
In the 30’s it was the Depression. In the 40’s World War II. In the 50’s people built bomb shelters and school children hid under their desks.
Was that the golden age?
The 60’s saw Vietnam; the 70’s saw cars lined up at gas pumps. In the 80’s we had MTV.
In the 90’s we had Bush if you were a democrat; Clinton if you were a Republican.
Let’s not forget 9/11. 2 wars. The Recession, upcoming election, and the domination of Kim Kardashion.
Yet we are still here; and we live.
In the midst of worries, in the midst of fears, in the midst of media manipulation, we live.
We live our lives the best that we can.
We wake, we cook, we work, we dream. We continue to make friends, fall in love, make love and make plans for the future.
We do this with the knowledge that there is no certainty, with no assurance of what the future brings, with no idea of what lays beyond the river’s bend.
But as Christians, we live in a way that is different then the wisdom of the world.
We foolishly live with hope.
Hope that we know who holds the future. Hope that one day we will all be free.
Hope that the Kingdom of God is not only at hand, but that the Kingdom of God is already right here, right now.
That we don’t have to wait for falling skies or Christ scooting in on puffy clouds, but that we can experience and share the gifts of heaven today.
How can we do that? One way is by doing just what we are doing now; by worshipping God.
Not alone, or is separate corners of our world, but worshipping together in this safe space, in this holy time.
What a powerful way to show God our trust by joining together, to collectively offer our prayers, our sweet sounding songs and the tributes we bring.
We also live by forms of fellowship. The time we spend together, be it at a table, in the park or at the golf course.
Sharing of ourselves through stories and conversation, the jokes we tell, the tears we shed.
The intimate details told over a game of cards, the welcoming of 400 people to homemade spaghetti, and the visit to a hospital room.
Two marks that a Christian community isn’t afraid to live are worship and fellowship. A third can be acts of compassion.
Compassion; the act of emulating Christ by thinking beyond one’s self and one’s situation to reach out to another.
Compassion: the ability to be present in empathy and to say “No matter who you are or what you are going through, I am here for you.”
Compassion: the way to physically show the presence and love of Christ to a world that seems to be holding its breath in uncertainty.
Yes, we live.
As Christians, we live.
As the Body of Christ, we live.
Not because we are in denial of the world’s issues, not because we don’t believe there are dark valleys everywhere, but because we know that in Christ we are given the gifts and the ability to make our lives more then what the world’s wisdom wants to say.
In conclusion, we know that as Christians, our ability to worship, to fellowship and to show compassion gives us the strength to love, to live, to rise above our fears and to believe in another day.
Who knows when the appointed time will be; but at least we know that when the journeys of the sun and the moon comes to an end, we’ll be in the hands of God, filled with the Spirit, and Jesus Christ shall reign forever, with no end.
For that, we can say “Amen” and “amen.”
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Sermon for Jan 15, 2012; 1 Samuel 3:1-20
Rev. George Miller
1 Samuel 3:1-20
“The Lord Calls”
Jan 15, 2012
The other day, I came across a scripture that caught my eye-1 Corinthians 1:18-25. It’s a letter that Paul wrote to a church which was figuring out who they were.
In this passage, Paul focuses on the theme of foolishness. Verse 18: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to those who are being saved it is the power of God.”
Further, in verse 20, Paul states “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?”
A little further down, in verses 22-25, Paul writes “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called…God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”
I find it interesting how Paul ties the call of God to what the world would see as foolish.
Foolishness and call, stumbling blocks and strength: the unexpected ways in which God brings hope to the world.
If we were to think about it, our faith does indeed sound foolish, if we were to truly step back and objectively look at it.
I mean, a crucified man rising from the dead. The Son of God born to a poor family only to die on a cross.
The belief that through a piece of bread and a sip of juice we can participate in the Kingdom of Heaven.
The notion that ordinary water can be a means through which our lives are changed forever.
Truthfully, a bit odd; don’tcha think?
Yet, this is what we believe, what we profess, this is who we are:
Water dippin’, bread eatin’, grape juice drinkin’ Christians who proclaim that God raised Christ from the grave and our sins are forgiven.
I remember watching a TV show that said northerners are ashamed of the crazy members of their family and hide them away while Southerners call them eccentric and proudly put them on the front porch for all to see.
Well Sandra, as a newly baptized Christian, welcome to the porch with the rest of the family.
Now, you all should be wondering why I just went on and on about 1 Corinthians when the sermon is about 1 Samuel.
It’s because I liked the way Corinthians used the words call and foolishness; it’s also because I felt it tied into today’s story nicely.
It’s the story of how God once again does the unexpected by shirking the ways of the world, this time calling a young, inexperienced person to help do something new.
Personally, I’m a sucker for Call stories. Like Moses and the burning bush. Jonah being told to “Go!” Mary being visited by the angel.
That’s how I experienced my call to be a pastor. I was simply a 17-year old kid running around a high-school track, listening to Prince on the headphones when I turned the corner and felt the voice of God say “I want you to be a minister.”
As many of you know, I said “No way” and continued to run, literally and metaphorically, for 12 more years before I finally said “Yes, Lord.”
Because my call was so visceral and unexpected, I thought that’s what everyone who went into ministry experienced.
Imagine my surprise when I attended seminary and heard other people’s stories, and more often theirs involved a sense of progression and gentle nudges.
The son of a pastor who simply followed the same educational path his dad did.
The woman who enjoyed studying the Bible from a historical, critical perspective who took one class, then another until she found herself enrolled in seminary.
The young adult who worked at summer camp and enjoyed doing youth ministry.
I even did some research on Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., looking for some kind of account of how he became a pastor.
I found nothing, except the fact that he sung in his father’s church, was skeptical of Christianity, denied the resurrection and was greatly influenced by Mahatma Ghandi.
At some point, King decided to attend theological school and become a pastor. No big “A-has”, no voice from the sky.
These natural, smooth transitions of people like MLK and my peers shocked me because they lacked burning bushes, falling off of horses and voices late in the night.
But they had calls, nevertheless, and there is no denying that God used King’s ministry to change the world and rattle the skies.
God calls. God calls each and every one of us; I believe that deeply. The story we have in 1 Samuel is just one kind of call story that appears in the Bible.
And it’s a beautifully told story with images of darkness and light, use of the senses and repetition; all to show us how a young boy, born to a barren woman, would help bring redemption to a wounded world.
But following the words of Paul’s letter, if we step back and took a look, if we step back and allow our ears to truly hear, we notice the foolishness in which the story hangs.
We all know the wisdom of the world, don’t we? That the wise are preferred over the uneducated. The elder is preferred over the least experienced. Those with established authority are the ones we are to listen to.
But what does this story do? What does it show us? The foolishness of God. That God finds strength in that which we would call weak. That hope for the world comes in the most unexpected ways.
Here in this story we see how God chooses to call someone who had yet to know the Lord over someone who had devoted their whole life to ministry.
Here in this story we see how God calls someone who needed direction and prodding over someone who was more experienced and able to discern the call.
Here in this story we see how God calls the son of a simple woman over the many children of a prestigious priest.
Here in this story we experience the Still Speaking God who does not care who you are or where you are on life’s journey; if there is a purpose, you will be called.
God calls. God calls each and every one of us, I believe that deeply. Even if we don’t realize it, even if we don’t recognize it, God calls every one of us to do something which no one else can do the way we can do it.
And we are each called in unique ways, to serve in different capacities at different points of our lives, and I believe we are not called once, but many, many times.
Sometimes we are called to work behind the scenes, sometimes in front. Some are called to be like Eli: to teach, to coach, to shape.
Some are called to do the difficult things others do not want to do that bring about change, just like Martin Luther King.
In each call is a challenge; in each call there is joy.
Today, we witnessed as Sandra accepted her call, a call to be baptized into this wonderful, foolish, front-porch sitting, still speaking family of God.
Hopefully this will not be the last call that she hears and she accepts.
But for now, let me leave you with a story:
A local congregation has been looking for a new pastor. Their Search Committee had been meeting twice a week for over two years.
As you can image, the congregation has been frustrated and began making demands that the committee finds someone to be their pastor, now!
To appease the people, the Search Committee held a special meeting just this Wednesday and shared with them the news.
They had six candidates who all claimed to have received a call from God; the committee was able to whittle the six down to one.
There was Noah, but he’s up there in age and prone to taking on unrealistic building projects.
Joseph who thinks big but is a bit of a braggart. He claimed to interpret dreams but alas, had a lengthy prison record.
Oh! There was Miriam; but she a woman. Mary, but she’s pregnant, and, ah…unmarried at the moment.
There was a guy named Jonah who said he refused God’s calling to ministry until a giant fish swallowed him and spit him up onto shore.
They hung up on him.
But there’s this Judas fella. His references are solid. He’s conservative, knows how to handle money, and has good connections.
The search committee said they saw strong possibilities in him and invited him to preach next Sunday!
Just goes to show you, there is no rhyme and reason to God’s call, and what the world sees as wise, God may see as foolishness.
May our prayers be with them…
In conclusion, my prayer for all of us is that we too find ways to hear God’s call, to find ways to respond, to grow and to help other people answer theirs.
That by answering our calls, we can assist in overcoming adversity, and to believe, deep in our souls, that the ways of mercy, kindness, humility and compassion will prevail.
To follow Christ, to give our hearts and to love.
And actually, what is so foolish about that?
If you agree, let me hear you say “Amen” and “amen.”
1 Samuel 3:1-20
“The Lord Calls”
Jan 15, 2012
The other day, I came across a scripture that caught my eye-1 Corinthians 1:18-25. It’s a letter that Paul wrote to a church which was figuring out who they were.
In this passage, Paul focuses on the theme of foolishness. Verse 18: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to those who are being saved it is the power of God.”
Further, in verse 20, Paul states “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?”
A little further down, in verses 22-25, Paul writes “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called…God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”
I find it interesting how Paul ties the call of God to what the world would see as foolish.
Foolishness and call, stumbling blocks and strength: the unexpected ways in which God brings hope to the world.
If we were to think about it, our faith does indeed sound foolish, if we were to truly step back and objectively look at it.
I mean, a crucified man rising from the dead. The Son of God born to a poor family only to die on a cross.
The belief that through a piece of bread and a sip of juice we can participate in the Kingdom of Heaven.
The notion that ordinary water can be a means through which our lives are changed forever.
Truthfully, a bit odd; don’tcha think?
Yet, this is what we believe, what we profess, this is who we are:
Water dippin’, bread eatin’, grape juice drinkin’ Christians who proclaim that God raised Christ from the grave and our sins are forgiven.
I remember watching a TV show that said northerners are ashamed of the crazy members of their family and hide them away while Southerners call them eccentric and proudly put them on the front porch for all to see.
Well Sandra, as a newly baptized Christian, welcome to the porch with the rest of the family.
Now, you all should be wondering why I just went on and on about 1 Corinthians when the sermon is about 1 Samuel.
It’s because I liked the way Corinthians used the words call and foolishness; it’s also because I felt it tied into today’s story nicely.
It’s the story of how God once again does the unexpected by shirking the ways of the world, this time calling a young, inexperienced person to help do something new.
Personally, I’m a sucker for Call stories. Like Moses and the burning bush. Jonah being told to “Go!” Mary being visited by the angel.
That’s how I experienced my call to be a pastor. I was simply a 17-year old kid running around a high-school track, listening to Prince on the headphones when I turned the corner and felt the voice of God say “I want you to be a minister.”
As many of you know, I said “No way” and continued to run, literally and metaphorically, for 12 more years before I finally said “Yes, Lord.”
Because my call was so visceral and unexpected, I thought that’s what everyone who went into ministry experienced.
Imagine my surprise when I attended seminary and heard other people’s stories, and more often theirs involved a sense of progression and gentle nudges.
The son of a pastor who simply followed the same educational path his dad did.
The woman who enjoyed studying the Bible from a historical, critical perspective who took one class, then another until she found herself enrolled in seminary.
The young adult who worked at summer camp and enjoyed doing youth ministry.
I even did some research on Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., looking for some kind of account of how he became a pastor.
I found nothing, except the fact that he sung in his father’s church, was skeptical of Christianity, denied the resurrection and was greatly influenced by Mahatma Ghandi.
At some point, King decided to attend theological school and become a pastor. No big “A-has”, no voice from the sky.
These natural, smooth transitions of people like MLK and my peers shocked me because they lacked burning bushes, falling off of horses and voices late in the night.
But they had calls, nevertheless, and there is no denying that God used King’s ministry to change the world and rattle the skies.
God calls. God calls each and every one of us; I believe that deeply. The story we have in 1 Samuel is just one kind of call story that appears in the Bible.
And it’s a beautifully told story with images of darkness and light, use of the senses and repetition; all to show us how a young boy, born to a barren woman, would help bring redemption to a wounded world.
But following the words of Paul’s letter, if we step back and took a look, if we step back and allow our ears to truly hear, we notice the foolishness in which the story hangs.
We all know the wisdom of the world, don’t we? That the wise are preferred over the uneducated. The elder is preferred over the least experienced. Those with established authority are the ones we are to listen to.
But what does this story do? What does it show us? The foolishness of God. That God finds strength in that which we would call weak. That hope for the world comes in the most unexpected ways.
Here in this story we see how God chooses to call someone who had yet to know the Lord over someone who had devoted their whole life to ministry.
Here in this story we see how God calls someone who needed direction and prodding over someone who was more experienced and able to discern the call.
Here in this story we see how God calls the son of a simple woman over the many children of a prestigious priest.
Here in this story we experience the Still Speaking God who does not care who you are or where you are on life’s journey; if there is a purpose, you will be called.
God calls. God calls each and every one of us, I believe that deeply. Even if we don’t realize it, even if we don’t recognize it, God calls every one of us to do something which no one else can do the way we can do it.
And we are each called in unique ways, to serve in different capacities at different points of our lives, and I believe we are not called once, but many, many times.
Sometimes we are called to work behind the scenes, sometimes in front. Some are called to be like Eli: to teach, to coach, to shape.
Some are called to do the difficult things others do not want to do that bring about change, just like Martin Luther King.
In each call is a challenge; in each call there is joy.
Today, we witnessed as Sandra accepted her call, a call to be baptized into this wonderful, foolish, front-porch sitting, still speaking family of God.
Hopefully this will not be the last call that she hears and she accepts.
But for now, let me leave you with a story:
A local congregation has been looking for a new pastor. Their Search Committee had been meeting twice a week for over two years.
As you can image, the congregation has been frustrated and began making demands that the committee finds someone to be their pastor, now!
To appease the people, the Search Committee held a special meeting just this Wednesday and shared with them the news.
They had six candidates who all claimed to have received a call from God; the committee was able to whittle the six down to one.
There was Noah, but he’s up there in age and prone to taking on unrealistic building projects.
Joseph who thinks big but is a bit of a braggart. He claimed to interpret dreams but alas, had a lengthy prison record.
Oh! There was Miriam; but she a woman. Mary, but she’s pregnant, and, ah…unmarried at the moment.
There was a guy named Jonah who said he refused God’s calling to ministry until a giant fish swallowed him and spit him up onto shore.
They hung up on him.
But there’s this Judas fella. His references are solid. He’s conservative, knows how to handle money, and has good connections.
The search committee said they saw strong possibilities in him and invited him to preach next Sunday!
Just goes to show you, there is no rhyme and reason to God’s call, and what the world sees as wise, God may see as foolishness.
May our prayers be with them…
In conclusion, my prayer for all of us is that we too find ways to hear God’s call, to find ways to respond, to grow and to help other people answer theirs.
That by answering our calls, we can assist in overcoming adversity, and to believe, deep in our souls, that the ways of mercy, kindness, humility and compassion will prevail.
To follow Christ, to give our hearts and to love.
And actually, what is so foolish about that?
If you agree, let me hear you say “Amen” and “amen.”
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