Sermons

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Folks, we’re doing things a little differently this Sunday. Instead of beginning as we usually do with a biblical text that we then explore to discern its meaning and relevance for our lives today, we’re reversing the process. This morning we’re beginning with a contemporary issue and then using the resources of our faith to inform and shape how we address this issue in the concrete here-and-now of life. We’ll take this approach once-a-quarter and call each of these Sundays an Issues Sunday. My hope is not only that we’ll learn about the issues that challenge us, but also generate opportunities for action. The issue before us today is the death penalty.

 

How many of us even noticed? Last week, the State of Texas executed two convicted murderers. On November 14, Ramon Hernandez was put to death for the 2001 rape and murder of Rosa Rosado in San Antonio.[1] A day later on November 15, Preston Hughes, III was put to death for the 1988 murders of 15 year old Shandra Charles, and 3 year old Marcell Taylor, both from Houston. This brings to 15 the total number of executions in Texas for 2012.[2] Since 1976 Texas has executed 492 human beings, more than any other state in the union.[3]

 

When it comes to our nation as a whole, there have been more than 1,300 executions in the United States since 1976.[4] There are approximately 3,260 awaiting execution on death row.[5] In 2008, 93% of all known executions took place in five countries: China, Iran, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and the United States.[6]   

 

But there are hopeful signs of change. More than 130 countries have abolished the death penalty in law or practice.[7] In our own nation, more and more states are abandoning the death penalty. Even Texas is moving away from capital punishment as evidenced by the 70% drop in new death sentences since 2003.[8]

Speaking personally, I rejoice that change is coming. A variety of faith traditions—Christian and otherwise—have been advocating and working for the abolition of the death penalty for a long time—including The United Methodist Church.[9] But the change is just not coming fast enough.

My brothers and sisters, the death penalty is just not working. The evidence continues to mount that the application of the death penalty is arbitrary and unfair, that it is racially biased, that it claims innocent lives, that it’s not a deterrent to crime, that it costs more than other alternative sentences, and that it diverts resources away from more productive means of crime control.[10]

 

The late Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun—an appointee of President Richard Nixon—voted early in his tenure to uphold the death penalty. But in 1994, he changed his mind. He wrote: From this day forward, I no longer shall tinker with the machinery of death—I feel morally and intellectually obligated simply to concede that the death penalty experiment has failed.[11]

 

I find these practical points against the death penalty to be convincing—but the gospel of Jesus Christ I find compelling. Consider this: Jesus, the one anointed by God to embody God’s reign in human history, could have imposed upon law-breakers the violent penalties contained in the Torah—but he did not. He could have shed the blood of murderers—but he did not! He could have executed Torah justice by demanding the death penalty for such crimes as adultery, sexual activity before marriage, dishonoring parents, careless handling of animals, and work on the Sabbath[12]—but he did not! 

 

In fact, the New Testament witness is absolutely clear on this point: Jesus killed no one! Jesus honored the sacred worth of every human life by killing no one. He respected human beings created in the image of God by killing no one.  

 

Jesus knew from the scriptures that each and every murder mocks God and sends a shutter throughout the creation as the families of victims suffer—the families of murderers suffer—and whole communities grieve. And yet, Jesus refused retaliation; he refused retribution; he refused revenge. Jesus killed no one! 

 

Instead, Jesus was himself the victim of capital punishment. This morning’s text from Luke’s gospel reminds us: Jesus was sentenced to death by the Roman governor of Judea, led through the streets of Jerusalem along a 1^st century version of the green mile, and crucified on a Roman cross with two other criminals on a hill outside the city walls called The Skull.

 

Consider the circumstances of his execution. The crucifixion of Jesus was a political act inflicted upon him as a member of an oppressed minority. The sign placed over his head read King of the Jews. And yes, Jesus was a Jew who shared the suffering of his people. Jews in Palestine were an oppressed minority population within the Roman Empire, living in occupied territory under Roman control. And yes, Jesus was proclaimed messiah by those who followed him, but he was not the violent revolutionary that Rome usually executed on a cross. 

 

The crucifixion of Jesus was an injustice. Pilate himself declared Jesus innocent three times before finally sentencing Jesus to death. One of the criminals crucified with Jesus also proclaimed Jesus innocent. And yet, Jesus was executed anyway.

So what are we to learn from Jesus that informs and shapes our perspective on the death penalty?   This is what I’ve learned: Violence used in response to violence is no solution to violence. It only perpetuates violence. This is as true with capital punishment as it is with war.

 

The appropriate gospel-response to violence is the kind of long-suffering, steadfast love and mercy that Jesus displayed upon the cross to those who were doing violence to him. Do you remember his prayer? Abba, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.

 

When we catch this spirit and follow Christ in this way, transformation happens in our own lives, the pace of change to abolition the death penalty quickens, and the day the death penalty is no more draws just a little bit closer.

 

Let me give you an idea of what this transformation looks like. On July 15, 1993, a 20-year old college student named Clay Peterson was stabbed to death during the robbery of a convenience store in Corpus Christi where he worked as a clerk. The assailant had entered the store earlier in the evening. He used the restroom, shoplifted several items, and noticed that Clay was the only other person in the store. The assailant left the store, waited in his car with a friend for 20 minutes, and then reentered the convenience store. He pulled a knife, held it to Clay’s throat and demanded the money from the cash register. Clay gave him the money—a total of $25.65. The man then stabbed Clay eight times and fled the scene. Clay survived long enough to call 911. He died soon afterward.

 

 The man who killed Clay Peterson was named Johnny Joe Martinez. He had no prior criminal record. Earlier that night, he’d been drinking and smoking pot. Several minutes after the crime, Martinez called the police and turned himself in. In 1994, Martinez was convicted of murder and sentenced to die by lethal injection.[13]   

 

The news of Clay Peterson’s death struck me personally because I had known this young man all of his life. His grandparents were members of my home church in Beeville. His father Paul and I had grown up together. I had gone to high school with his mother, Lana. So I grieved Clay’s death, and was utterly shocked to see the grainy, black-and-white convenience store video tape of his murder broadcast on ABC’s news magazine show 20/20.

 

But here’s the amazing part: As you can imagine, the pain of Clay’s mother, Lana, was intense. Her suffering was so great that she even contemplated suicide,[14] but her faith in God saw her through.[15] 

 

In fact, Lana trusted God so much that she was able to forgive the man who had killed her son. She wrote him a letter expressing her forgiveness. She visited Martinez on death row. She sat across a table from him. She actually reached out, grabbed his hands and prayed for this man—the murderer of her baby boy. Lana then petitioned the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles to commute his death sentence to life in prison.[16] Her appeal was denied and Johnny Joe Martinez was executed by the State of Texas on May 22, 2002.[17]

Lana said that one of things that helped her on this profound spiritual journey was her son Clay’s personal belief that opposed the old law of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. He believed, Lana said, in forgiveness.[18]

 

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said: I do not think that God approves the death penalty for any crime, rape and murder included. Capital punishment is against the better judgment of modern criminology, and, above all, against the highest expression of love in the nature of God. I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.[19] 

 

O God, use us to hasten the day when the death penalty will be abolished once and for all. Amen.

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John 11:32-44   

 

 

My brothers and sisters, if you’ve come here this morning to hear the good news of what God is doing in the world, then say “amen”! That’s great! I promise you that we won’t be disappointed. 

 

But here’s the deal: To be in a position to hear the good news this morning, it’s important that we first enter the graveyard and confront the reality of death. To do this, I invite us to see ourselves as Lazarus—the lifeless one in John’s story—the dead one—the one sealed up in a cave-tomb, shrouded in darkness, reeking with the odor of death, and bound up in grave clothes—constricted, tied up, dressed not for life, but for death. So imagine it this morning: We are Lazarus, dead and buried.  

 

Death is all around us. Check the obituaries. Check out the news:  

·        “The death toll in the United States from Superstorm Sandy rose to 109 victims on Friday….Mayor Michael Bloomberg warned; ‘There could be more.’”[1] 

·        “Activists estimate that more than 32,000 people have been killed in Syria since March 2011 when the uprising against [President] Assad’s regime began.”[2] 

·        In the eleven years of war in Afghanistan, more than 3,000 NATO troops have lost their lives including over 2,000 Americans. There are no accurate numbers for civilian deaths in Afghanistan, but the estimates are well into the tens of thousands.[3]

 

Death is all around us, and I’m not just talking about physical death. Death is present among us in a million different ways: violence, deceit, greed, injustice, bigotry, hatred, oppression, addiction, abuse, rape, broken relationships, and more. Death in this sense, means living as if we’re cut-off from God—the very source of life. In other words, we don’t have to be dead, to be dead! We are Lazarus!

 

But death is not just around us, death is also in us. Let me speak for myself here. I know that in my own life, there are places as cold as the tomb where compassion is absent and love seems far away. There are dead spots in my life where I resist Christ; where I refuse the life he offers; where I nurture unbelief and disobedience. I am Lazarus. 

 

Death is around us, death is in us, and death awaits us. In spite of all the spectacular advances in medical science, the death rate remains exactly what it has always been--a flat 100%. We’re all going to die. We are Lazarus.

 

But wait a minute! Jesus has come in to the graveyard! He’s got tears in his eyes. He’s troubled in spirit. He’s moved by the deepest of emotions. And this is what he says: “Lazarus, come out!” Listen to him: Monte, come out!....

 

Can you believe it? When the life-giver is in the graveyard extraordinary things happen:   tombs open up; grave clothes come off, and we’re free! We are alive! We are Lazarus--resurrected, not just in the sweet-by-and-by, but in the concrete here-and-now, in this moment, in our present circumstances. The tomb cannot hold us. Death gives way to life. So why not live—and live now!

 

Now since this is All Saints Sunday, I want to tell you about a man who has taught me something about how to live in the midst of a world that in so many ways is bound up by death. His name was Clarence Jordan and I never met him. He died in 1969 while I was still in high school. But his witness to life lived in the way of Jesus, continues to call me to life and I thank God for him today.  

 

Clarence was born on July 29, 1912, in Talbotton, Georgia.[4] He was born into a racist culture steeped in the ways of death. Jim Crowe laws were in effect. Schools were segregated. Public facilities were segregated. Rest rooms and water fountains were segregated. And yes, even churches were segregated. 

 

The right to vote was curtailed for African-Americans in those days. The economic system perpetuated injustice by blocking the pathways to prosperity for poor black folks.   War was glorified in that culture, and violence was used to protect the racist status quo. 

The segregated Baptist church in which Clarence was raised, blessed the whole thing--this entire culture of death—as did most of the white churches in the South during those years. 

 

As he was growing up, there was intense pressure upon Clarence to conform to this way of life. But Clarence was a follower of Jesus Christ. He knew better than to be content with life in the graveyard. He heard Christ calling him to life: “Clarence, come out!” And out Clarence came!

This is what he did: He earned an undergraduate degree in agriculture and a Phd. in New Testament Greek. But instead of being a prosperous farmer, or a big-steeple preacher, or a seminary professor, Clarence and his wife Florence joined with one other couple and formed a community called Koinonia near Americus, Georgia. The year was 1942. 

 

Their intent was to engage the culture of death around them, but by living differently. They welcomed African-Americans into their homes. They taught agricultural skills to black share-croppers to liberate them from their bondage to unscrupulous land owners. They practiced an ethic of non-violence. They followed the New Testament example of holding their goods in common and giving to help those in need. Over the years, others came to participate in the life of this holy experiment. Habit for Humanity emerged from out of this community.

And make no mistake about it, the culture of death struck back. The KKK threatened them. Violence was directed against them. Their children were persecuted in the schools. But the people of Koinonia did not yield to the power of death—they did up give up or give in. They embraced life; they followed Jesus Christ; and the Koinonia community survives to this very day in Americus, Georgia. So I thank God today for Clarence Jordan.[5]

 

Someone else also comes to mind—another person that I never met, but only read about. His name was Angus McGillivray. His story is told in a book by Ernest Gordon called To End All Wars. During World War II, the Japanese ran an infamous POW camp in the valley of the river Kwai in Southeast Asia. Ernest Gordon and Angus McGillivray were both prisoners in that camp. 

 

As Gordon tells it, the conditions of their captivity were horrendous. They suffered from forced labor, disease, starvation and naked brutality. Gordon writes: Existence had become so miserable, that nothing mattered except to survive. It was a case of I look for myself and to hell with everyone else. The weak were trampled underfoot, the sick ignored or resented, the dead forgotten. Hate, for some, was the only motivation for living and in time, even hate died, giving way to numb, bleak despair.

 

But then, something changed. An American soldier named Angus McGillivray risked his life in countless ways to nurse a buddy back to health. Finally, Angus died of malnutrition because he shared his own meager food rations with his friend.

 

And the other prisoners took notice. They were moved by his self-sacrifice. It’s as though Christ had entered their death camp in the guise of Angus McGillivray and called them to life! Some of the prisoners began to recall passages from the Bible they had learned as children—passages about laying down one’s life for one’s friends, and loving one another as Christ has loved us.       

 

Life began to take hold and that prison camp began to change! The weak were no longer trampled underfoot. The sick were no longer ignored. The dead were no longer forgotten.  

 

When the Japanese were defeated and the allies came to liberate the camp, the allied soldiers were so appalled by the treatment the Japanese had given these prisoners that the soldiers were ready to slaughter the guards. But they didn’t. Do you know why? The prisoners stopped them! The prisoners stopped them because they had been set free from the ways death. They had transformed that death camp into a place of spiritual triumph![6]       So I thank God today for Angus McGillivray.

 

My brothers and sisters, we are Lazarus. We know all about life in the graveyard. Death is around us. Death is within us. And death awaits us. But when Jesus Christ comes into the graveyard, extraordinary things happen! He calls us out—and when we come forth, we are Lazarus resurrected! We are set free to transform this culture of death by living as an alternative community alive in Jesus Christ! This, my brothers and sisters, is the good news for us today!   Now the question is: What are we going to do about it? Amen.      

 

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Let us pray:   “Gracious God, we rejoice in all that you have given us. Help us to be truly thankful. In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.”

 

Some say we should “give until it hurts”. I say and the Gospel says, “Give until it helps”. We are called to make a difference. What motivation do we have for the generosity that makes a difference?

 

First, there is the genuineness of love. Paul is writing to the young church in Corinth. Those who have been studying with me for the past several months know that the Corinthian church was messed up. They were often immature, petty and selfish. Nevertheless, they knew that Paul loved them. He had cared for them, suffered for them and stayed in touch with them. They knew that his love was for real. So, he was not ashamed to remind them that he had acted out of love as he was asking them to give generously. 

 

We live in a world that is overloaded with silliness. Many of you are from my generation and remember the bumper sticker that was popular 25 or 30 years ago. It said, “Honk If You Love Jesus”. Given the fact that I lived in urban areas, where there was no shortage of honking, often accompanied by expressive gestures, I never used one of those bumper stickers. However, at about that time I also saw a few times a message that I liked better. It read: “Tithe If You Love Jesus; Any Fool Can Honk”. 

 

Now, we are not specifically emphasizing tithing this month, although it is a solid, biblical concept and standard for Christian giving. Tithing is all about making the giving of 10% of our income for God’s work in the world as an expression of our love. We can live up to that standard, celebrate it, grow into it and even grow beyond it. The point is our generosity, motivated by love. Words are meaningless, if they are not backed up by deeds. We all know that often people say to one another, “I love you” when their only desire is to get something from each other. What use is it to say, “I love you” and not do anything? 

 

Once upon a time there was a gardener, who grew an amazing, gorgeous, enormous carrot. She was so excited that she decided to give it as a gift to the king. She appeared before him with it, saying, “Your majesty, this is the greatest carrot I have ever seen. I decided to present it to you as a token of my love and respect for you.”

The king felt the sincerity of her heart and was moved. As she was turning to leave, he called out to her, “Wait! You have been a good steward of the earth, have produced something beautiful and you have graciously given it to me. I have something to give to you. I own a plot of land next to your garden that I will give to you as a gift so that you can garden it all and continue your beautiful work.” And he did.

 

There was a nobleman, hanging out in the palace, who overheard what the king had said and done.  He said to himself, “Wow! If that is what the king would do for a mere carrot from this peasant woman, what would he do for me if I gave him something more impressive?” So the nobleman fetched a beautiful black stallion that he had trained and brought it to the king, saying, “Your majesty, this is the greatest horse I have ever had. I present it to you as a token of my esteem.”

 

The king received the horse, but sent the nobleman away. The nobleman protested, “But, your majesty, I saw what you did for that peasant. Isn’t there some reward for me?” The king, knowing the selfishness in the nobleman’s heart, responded, “The gardener gave the carrot for me, but you gave me the horse for yourself.”

 

Our motivations make a difference. Generous, true giving is motivated by honest love.

 

Second, our generosity is motivated by the generosity of Christ. There is no higher act of love than the self-giving love of God that we see in Jesus Christ. God pours out God’s very life for us in Christ. 

 

Over the last 25 years or so, I have often asked groups to think what might be the single most important word in United Methodist theology, as given to us from John Wesley. Think about that question for a moment… What would that word be?... It is grace. Wesley had a whole lot of teach us about grace. He emphasized the different types of grace that God gives, freely pouring out all good things upon us. There is the grace that goes before us, even before we see it or are ready to acknowledge it. Then there is the grace that transforms us, here and now, through forgiveness of the past. Finally, there is the grace that completes us and makes us whole. Don’t be intimidated that he calls that the “sanctifying grace” that makes us “perfect” or holy. By “perfect”, Wesley is really saying “whole”, complete, mature. As we wake up to and respond to God’s grace, we find our lives energized and directed by God’s purposes in our lives.

 

The mission of this church is “Unconditional love and justice in action”. We see that mission fulfilled in all kinds of ways every Sunday, every day, every week. This church is a powerful witness to God’s grace and generosity. However, it is important to understand our mission here as a part of God’s whole mission in the world. The mission of the United Methodist Church is, “To make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world”. What a comprehensive mission! Making disciples, teaching one another what Jesus taught and learning to do what Jesus did, through the Spirit of God in us. The words, “…for the transformation of the world” put the mission in perspective. It is so big, so much beyond our strength.

 

Who would deny that the world is desperately in need of transformation? Whether we look at education, health care, world hunger, energy issues, global climate change, addictions, you name it, the world is in a mess. When we look around us, we sometimes want to excuse ourselves, shrug our shoulders and hide from the responsibility, saying, “What can I do? How can I make any difference? How can my little gifts matter when the problems are so big and so complex?” When we think like that, we make ourselves small and minimize God. 

 

I love what Paul says, “The gift is acceptable according to what one has – not what one doesn’t have”. That is, what we have to give is enough. We have enough to make a difference! Peter Marshall was a great preacher of another generation. He could sometimes be outspoken, even blunt, in a way that most preachers would hesitate to do. Once a very wealthy man came to him. The man was struggling with the idea of sharing his wealth. He said to his pastor, “I have a problem. I used to give a tithe of my income years ago. But now that I am earning $500,000 per year, there’s no way I can give $50,000 per year to the church. Peter Marshall thought for a moment, then said, “I see your problem. Let’s pray about it.” He prayed, “Heavenly Father, I pray that you would reduce this man’s salary back to the place that he can afford to tithe.”

 

Because of the generosity of God, as seen in Jesus Christ, we discover that giving is at the very heart of God’s nature. Giving is what sets us free and sets others free to live and to thrive, to know joy and freedom. 

 

Finally, we see Paul arguing that the Corinthians should be generous because of the needs of the Jerusalem church. In the verses just before the verses we have read here and in the book of Acts, we learn that Paul is raising a special offering for the needs of the poor in the “mother church” in Jerusalem. Now, most of the believers in the church in Corinth had never been to Jerusalem. Most of them weren’t Jews in the first place. They really didn’t care much about the fact that the people in Jerusalem. were starving in a terrible famine. But Paul knew that they needed to care. The entire Roman world needed to see the example of Jews and Gentiles working together to fulfill God’s purpose for everyone. Paul had been blessed by the original apostles in Jerusalem to share the Good News about God’s unlimited love through Christ with all people everywhere. Now, the people in Jerusalem needed help. 

 

“Why should I care about anybody else? I have problems of my own. I see the needs of those around me, and that’s all I care about. There’s so much that I have to do here. Don’t bother me with someplace else. It’s hard enough to respond here.”

 

We do so much as a church that is impressive and real, but God is always calling us to stretch. God is always calling us to see beyond and go beyond whatever kind of contentment we might have now. God is always calling us to see the bigger picture. Beyond the free meals, beyond the bus tickets, beyond the place to hang out (and isn’t this a nice place?), people are getting the idea that God loves them. Once people grasp that they are not alone, that God cares about them, that they are welcome and accepted, then they begin to get the idea that all are welcome. Spiritual depths begin to be opened in their lives, meaning is explored, with help and community; life purposes are revealed and acted upon. Our “Jerusalem church” here is full of differentness and complexity. We keep discovering new aspects in our own faith as we link up with one another. 

 

Charles Stallcup and Joseph Enderle are going to share a “witness to joy” about the importance of generous giving in their lives. (8:45 and 11:00 services. No transcript available.) You have in your bulletin a card that is called, “My Personal Goals and Commitment for 2013”. Take that card and fill in the blanks as an important spiritual exercise today. Do it today, before you lose it, and place it in an important place, maybe your Bible, where you will see it again. Identifying these goals will make a difference in your life. Later this week, you will receive commitment cards in the mail; the commitment cards are for you to look forward to what your gi ving will be in the coming year. But first, spend some time today identifying your life goals. How important is your generosity toward God?

 

There is no emotion that steals life from us more effectively than fear. We do not and cannot control the future. But with God’s help, we can face the future, embrace all of life as it will come to us, unpredictably, trusting and knowing that we are not alone. 

 

I want to share with you a vision of what generosity does. (Slide projected on screen.) This is a picture of the Boston Avenue United Methodist Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Every other year, I got to be in this building as the Oklahoma Annual Conference met here on alternate years. You can’t tell from this one image, but this building is one of the finest examples in America of a style of architecture called “art deco”. Architects come from all over the country to study this place. But it is not only a beautiful building; it is a beautiful and exciting, living church. The money was raised to build this building during the 1920s, when Tulsa was a boom town, floating in oil money. The church was thriving and needed a big, beautiful and significant place to do ministry. Construction happened 1927-29. While the building was being completed, the stock market crash of 1929 happened. The man who had given the most money toward this church lost everything in the crash. From then on until the church was completed, he spent every day outside, walking back and forth as a “sidewalk superintendent”. As a face who had been familiar in town, some people recognized him. A reporter from the Tulsa World came by and observed, “You must regret that you gave so much of your money away to build this church and now you have nothing left.” He responded, “No, you don’t understand. I have lost everything else. This church is all I have. Isn’t it wonderful?”  

 

All of us are here in this wonderful church. What a joy and a privilege it is for us to respond to God’s call to give from what we have been given and to move this great church forward into even more fulfilling ministries. We are a generous, grace-filled people. We have only begun to see what God will do next through us. Amen.  

 

Luke 12:13-21

 

 

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Our emphasis in worship over the four Sundays in October is Enough: Discovering Joy Through Simplicity and Generosity. Last week we asked the question: When is enough, enough?  This morning, the theme is simplicity.

 

Now it seems to me that even though the word “simplicity” doesn’t appear in this morning’s text, it is a word that captures so much of what Jesus is teaching in the text. Simplicity is a style of life that guards against greed in all of its forms. Simplicity embraces the notion that “life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Simplicity is a life rich toward God that involves generously sharing our wealth with others in need. Understood in this way, simplicity is a mark of discipleship and a sign of living faithfully within the reign of God.      

But did you notice? Simplicity is not where Luke’s story begins. On the contrary, Luke’s story begins with greed. A person in the crowd pressed Jesus to take his side in a dispute over the family inheritance. This guy wanted his cut. But Jesus refused because Jesus understood that this demand wasn’t about justice, it was about greed.     

 

Jesus said to the crowd: “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” In Greek, the word for “greed” refers to an excessive longing or craving for such things as food, drink, wealth or possessions. It’s a craving beyond reason that reveals a crass sort of selfishness.[1]

 

Jesus then told them a parable about a rich farmer who had his own problems with simplicity. This farmer “produced abundantly.” He was successful, but he was greedy. In his prosperity, he thought only of himself. He responded to his rising level of affluence by building bigger barns to store more stuff so that he could “relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” He figured that his material abundance was the key to life. 

But God set the farmer straight: “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?”

 

Jesus then drove the point home: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”   This last phrase had a particular meaning for first century Jews. They would have understood that to be “rich toward God” meant giving to others in need, especially to the poor. And this the rich farmer selfishly did not do.

 

So what does this have to do with us in 21^st century America?  Well, it seems to me that the dominant values of our culture have more to do with greed and increasing levels of accumulation and consumption than with simplicity. Isn’t it true that all of us who have grown up in this incredibly affluent society—whether rich or poor or somewhere in between—have been trained from an early age to be good consumers—to go after more, and bigger, and better? 

 

And there’s evidence that the conditioning has worked: With 5% of the world’s population, we consume 24% of the world’s fossil fuel resources. In total, we eat roughly 200 billion more calories a day than we need—which is enough to feed 80 million hungry people. We then throw out 200,000 tons of edible food daily.[2]

 

And what happens if we want something that we can’t afford at the moment? Many of us put it on the credit card. The average American household with at least one credit card has nearly $15,950 in credit card debt.[3]

And get this: In a survey taken not long ago, people were asked how much money it would take to make them happy. In every income group, the answer was exactly the same: only 20% more.[4] According to Jesus, this is greed.

Speaking of happiness, the statistics tell us that “the percentage of Americans who describe themselves as “happy” has not increased since the early 1950s, but reported incidences of depression keep rising.”[5]

So here’s the question: Are we ready for simplicity? If we are, then it’s time to do some practical, nitty-gritty work to simplify our lives. And this morning we’re doing more than just talking the talk, we’re providing some tools to help us walk the walk.

First, in this morning’s bulletin we’ll find listed “Six Key Financial Practices” that put the focus first on God, and then on issues such as spending and debt that reveal so much about our inclinations toward either simplicity, or an anxious quest for more.

These are the six practices: 

1. Put God first in our living and giving. 

2. Prepare a budget and track all expenses monthly. 

3. Simplify our lifestyles by living on less. 

4. Save for emergencies. 

5. Pay off credit card debt and use cash/debit cards when possible.

6. Save and invest responsibly to meet long-term goals.

 

A second document we’ve provided is a piece entitled “My Life and Financial Goals Worksheet.” If we’re interested in simplicity, then it’s important to clarify how simplicity shapes our life’s purpose. From there, we can set goals to fulfill that purpose. This document guides us through the process. 

Third, once we’ve established financial goals that are consistent with a lifestyle of simplicity, it’s important to specify how we intend to meet these goals. This is what a budget is for and this is why we’ve distributed a “Basic Budget Worksheet” this morning. Pastor Adam Hamilton says that a budget is simply a plan that tells our money what we want it to do.[6]

So are we ready for simplicity? A couple named Charles and Terri were ready. They both were involved in professional careers and earned high incomes. But through their involvement in the church and their exposure to the gospel, they began to look at their lives differently. After hearing a sermon on possessions one Sunday morning, they went home and had a long and difficult conversation. Terri poured out her heart about her unhappiness with the way they were living, and Charles agreed. “We couldn’t breathe,” Terri said. “We were living a lie. We had a big house, two cars, a boat, and everyone thought we were so happy. But underneath we were stressed out, arguing all the time about money, in debt over our heads, and we felt miserable. We were strangling.”

But there was also fear of change. Terri said, “We were afraid of what others would think if we downsized our house or traded in our cars or stopped doing the things everyone else was doing. We were afraid of the bills, the debts, the banks. We were scared of what would happen if one of us became sick. We were afraid of the shame of bankruptcy. We were afraid our teenagers would find out how precarious our situation was.”

Finally, Terri just blurted it out: “What kind of life does God really want us to have?”She then answered her own question: “Not this kind!”

They decided there and then to begin the practical, nitty-gritty process of simplifying their lives. They read books, took a course, and consulted a professional. They spoke with their children and included them in a plan to turn their lives around. Some decisions were major. They moved to a more modest neighborhood. They sold a high-payment car in order to buy a used one. They cancelled credit cards. They cut expenses. They ate at home. They paid off debt, saved money and gave more. 

After a year on this journey, Charles said this: “A year ago, we never imagined that we would feel the peace we feel today. It seemed totally beyond reach.”[7] For Charles and Terri, the journey continues.

So I pose the question again: Are we ready for simplicity? If we are, then let’s get to work and make it happen. And may God help us! Amen.

 

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Today in worship we will address the theme of Simplicity: Spending and Debt. We will look to the parable of the rich farmer in Luke 12:13-21 for insight into how to “guard against greed” and be “rich toward God,” and also provide practical helps designed to move us toward simplicity by managing our spending and debt.   The Six Key Financial Practices below are available for this purpose. (Hint: This useful tool, which is designed for all of us, can be especially helpful in training youth and young adults as they begin to develop lifelong habits in personal finance.) We hope you will take time this week to reflect upon and discuss the biblical text for this Sunday’s sermon, and to consider the six practices. They will make a great table devotional for you and your family. We are invited to use this opportunity to discover joy through simplicity and generosity. 

 

 

1.     Put God first in your living and giving.

2.     Prepare a budget and track all expenses monthly.

3.     Simplify your lifestyle by living on less.

4.     Save for emergencies.

5.     Pay off credit card debt and use cash/debit cards when possible.

6.     Save and invest responsibly to meet long-term goals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How would you define or describe your life purpose?

 

 

 

What are three goals that can help you to achieve this life purpose?

 

 

 

What are some financial goals that can help to support your life goals and purpose?

 

 

 

Short-term financial goals (next 12 months):

1. 

 

2.

 

 

Mid-range financial goals (2–5 years):

1.

 

2.

 

 

Long-term financial goals (5 years to retirement):

1.

 

2.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Housing                                                       25–35%                        ____________________

 

Transportation                                              10–15%                        ____________________

 

Charitable Gifts                                            10–12%                        ____________________

 

Food                                                             5–15%                        ____________________

 

Saving                                                          5–10%                        ____________________

 

Utilities                                                         5–10%                        ____________________

 

Medical/Health                                              5–10%                        ____________________

 

Debt                                                             5–10%                        ____________________

 

Clothing                                                       2–7%                          ____________________

 

Miscellaneous                                              12–23%                        ____________________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*These percentages are adapted from Dave Ramsey’s The Total Money Makeover (Thomas Nelson, 2007).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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SCRIPTURE TEXT: Mark 9:30-37

SERMON TITLE: “To Get High, Go Low”

Rev. Monte Marshall

 

 

     Back a few years ago, I heard an interview on NPR with the late Millard Fuller, the founder and former director of Habitat for Humanity. He told of an occasion when he was invited to speak at Yale University. He accepted the invitation, but with Yale being such a prestigious institution, Millard was a little bit intimidated and nervous about what he would say. One afternoon as Millard was visiting one of his neighbors in Americus, GA, who happened to be a poor, African-American woman, he mentioned his upcoming speaking engagement and his nervousness. She smiled at him and said to him, “Honey, you tell ‘em if you want to get high, go low.”

 

     Jesus had a similar message for his disciples. The occasion was not an address at a prestigious university, but an interaction with his disciples. They were in a house in Capernaum. Jesus had noticed that they had been arguing with one another on their trip through Galilee, so he asked them: “What were you arguing about during the journey?” No one said a word because they had been arguing with one another about who was the greatest. Jesus sat down, called the twelve over, and said to them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and the servant of all.”

 

     Jesus then illustrated the point by shifting his attention from the adults in the room to a little child—the smallest one in the room—the vulnerable one—the one without power or prestige—the one with the least social value. Jesus reached for the child on the social margins, brought the child into the center of the community, and held her in his arms. “Then he said, “Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me isn’t actually welcoming me but rather the one who sent me.”

 

     So there we have it: “If you want to get high, go low.” “If you want to be first, be the last of all and the servant of all.”  Welcome little children. Now how do you suppose this message would go over at Yale University? How does it go over here this morning?

 

     Well, I can imagine the objections. “Now, preacher, these are nice religious sentiments, but they get us nowhere in the ‘real’ world.  In the ‘real’ world—in places like Yale University—you get high by aiming high. You raise your sights. You strive with all your might to be first, to be number one. You cultivate relationships with the movers and the shakers who can help you move up. You fight your way to the top.”

 

     Now I don’t know about you, but I learned how to get along in the “real world” at a pretty early age. When I was a kid, we used to play a game called King of the Hill—a game obviously designed to teach boys how to get along in the “real world.”

 

     Now to play this game, you needed a group of kids and a good dirt pile. To win the game, you had to push and pull and shove all the other kids down to the bottom hill so that you were the only one left standing at the top of the hill. 

 

     And if you were the one left standing at the end of the game, you were the King of the Hill, the best, the greatest, number one--and it felt great. You felt powerful. But, if you ended up at the bottom of the dirt pile, you felt lousy. You were a loser. Someone else was better than you. Someone else was more powerful than you.

 

     Now you would think that adults would outgrow these childhood games, right? But we don’t. In our adult world, we play the game over and over again. 

 

     Jesus’ disciples played the game as they argued about who was the greatest. They engaged in this debate even though Jesus had, for the second time, identified himself as The Human One who would be killed and then rise again. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were arguing over who would take Jesus’ place once he was gone! I wouldn’t be surprised because I’ve seen arguments like this take place within families when a parent is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Even before the parent dies, the other family members begin jockeying for position to gain the advantage in settling the estate. We keep playing the game.

 

     We keep playing the game in the church. Have you ever noticed how many Protestant churches name themselves “first” church? There’s a reason for that! There’s a certain degree of status and prestige that comes with being a “first” church. I know! I’ve served two congregations named First United Methodist Church—but I have never heard of a congregation taking the name, the Last United Methodist Church. That’s not how the game works in the “real world.”

 

     So we keep playing the game in our families, at school, on the job, in sports, in our churches, and even in the relationships between nations. We keep playing the game because we like the feeling of being on top—of being number one! We like the recognition, the power, and the prestige. We keep playing the game because it’s not enough for us to be the best that we can be, we have to be better than someone else. And we keep playing the game no matter how many people end up at the bottom of the hill.

 

     But Jesus will have none of it! For Jesus, the highest place is the lowest place, the first place is the last place. We won’t find Jesus at the top of hill taunting us with his superiority. We’ll find Jesus at the bottom of the hill, taking care of the losers—the little ones—the ones on the margins of life. 

 

     And frankly, he’s calling those of us who follow him to quit the game, to stop the pushing and shoving, to come down from the top hill, and turn our considerable ambitions toward self-giving service that seeks greatness at the bottom of hill where Jesus himself is among us as a servant. This is what the “real world” looks like when God’s in charge!

 

     My brothers and sisters, the church is crying out for people who will live like this--who will serve like this--who will give of themselves like this to the most vulnerable and marginalized among us. And when we do live like this, amazing things happen. 

 

     Let me tell you about Bud Finley. Bud grew up in Little Rock, AK during the 1950s. He was a white kid in the segregated South. He was taught to give unquestioned devotion to the Rebel Flag and the song “Dixie.” He was defiant when it came to the integration of Little Rock’s school system. As a white kid in that racist culture, he was on the top of the heap.

 

     As he got older, Bud set his sights high. He applied his considerable ambition to business—and he succeeded. He became a millionaire, and he believed that he had shed much of his racist past, but he hadn’t. When he became a Christian, he knew that he shouldn’t hate anyone, but hate was still there. There was an uneasiness and disquiet in his soul.

 

     But all of that was about to change. Bud’s pastor, Robert Lewis, describes what happened: “Bud agreed to be a part of a “Helping Hands” community service project with our church. Bud was assigned to help at an inner-city housing project named Eastgate.  He could live with that. Rake a few leaves. Tell a few jokes. Pick up some trash. And go home at five. It might even make him feel good, make him sleep well for a night or two. Convince him that he wasn’t a racist.”

 

     Bud then met a seven-year-old poor black kid named Michael who lived in the Eastgate housing project. On the day they met, they started just horsing around with one another, telling jokes, and throwing fake punches like a boxer. When the day was over Michael asked if Bud could come visit him once in a while. Bud agreed. Within a week, the two were devoted to one another. 

 

     As Bud welcomed Michael into his life, he learned what it’s like to be young, black and poor. Bud saw “Michael’s squalid apartment, where as many as eleven people lived at any one time. He befriended Michael’s mother.” She had her children by three absent fathers, and yet she cared and nurtured her young ones with a deep love. He saw with his own eyes the desperation that surrounded Michael each and every day in the neighborhood where Michael lived.

 

     “After spending three years with Michael, Bud came to a deeper understanding of the oppressive cycle of hopelessness and disconnected charity. In Michael’s world, the future did not exist, and the past often had to be blocked out.”

 

     With his eyes opened and his heart changed, Bud could no longer ignore the reality of Michael’s world. In 1997, Bud sold his consulting business. While he continued to work, he used $2 million dollars from the sale to establish a foundation for urban ministry through his church. The foundation seeks to help poor, inner-city kids like Michael deal with the oppressive realities of their lives. On May 5, 1999, Bud Finley left his job altogether to become the executive director of the foundation he had begun.[1]

 

     Do we see what happened to Bud Finley? When he welcomed Michael into his life—this seven-year-old boy—he also received Christ and the God who’s on a mission to transform the world. Through it all, Bud Finley learned to use his considerable ambition to help others at the bottom of the hill. He learned to be a servant. 

 

     This, my brothers and sisters, is how Jesus measures greatness. It’s not about being the King of the Hill. No. “If you want to get high, go low.” “If you want to be first, be the last of all and the servant of all.” Welcome little children. And make no mistake about it, the church is crying out for people who will live just like this. May God’s will be done. Amen.

 

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SCRIPTURE TEXT: Ephesians 6:10-20 

SERMON TITLE: “The Real Struggle”

 

 

Someone once calculated that over the last 4,000 years there have been only 268 years of peace[1]—which means that we have been at war for 3,732 years—or 93.3% of the time.

 

Now how many human beings do you suppose, have died as a result of 3,372 years of war? No one knows for certain—but the deaths surely number in the hundreds of millions, at least. World War II alone cost the lives of an estimated 75 million people—soldiers and civilians alike—making it the costliest conflict in human history.   

 

Now you would think that with these kinds of losses and all the other horrors of war—we human beings would have put a stop to this warring madness a long time ago—but we haven’t. World War I was supposed to be “the war to end all wars”—but it wasn’t. The violence continues. In fact, we’ve become so intent on destroying our enemies that we’ve created weapons that will not only obliterate them, but pretty much destroy life as we know it on the planet. And lest we forget, at this very moment, our own nation is at war—and we’ve been at war for over 10 ten years now. 

 

So I pose a question: Could it be that this cycle of violence is so pervasive in human history because we persist in using the weapons of war to kill our flesh and blood enemies while the real struggle is avoided or ignored? Listen again to the text from Ephesians: “For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God.” 

Now it’s not my intention this morning to get us bogged down in the language of an ancient cosmology that speaks of “authorities,” “cosmic powers,” “the present darkness,” and “the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” I especially don’t want us to get distracted by images of forked-tailed demons flying around in the air and swooping down to “possess” unwary individuals.

 

But I do want to talk about violence as a spiritual reality. According to Ephesians, our real struggle is not with human enemies at all, but with spiritual forces that are demonic and evil in character—which is simply a way of saying that these forces are opposed to God and God’s work in the world. 

Those who have experienced the horrors of combat know this reality far better than the rest of us. They’re the ones who describe war as hell. The fact that our brothers and sisters in the military endure this hell for us, gains them my undying respect and gratitude. 

 

But according to Ephesians, our real struggle can’t be resolved by the weapons of war, but only by taking up the whole armor of God: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, shoes that make us ready to proclaim the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit, and prayer. 

 

 This suggests to me that when it comes to war, our real struggle is against the spirit of violence itself—a spirit of violence that seems to have a life of its own apart from the flesh and blood enemies that we kill.

 

For example, Shane Claiborne tells the story of a 20-year old veteran of the Iraq War who called him one night after reading Shane’s book, The Irresistible Revolution. The young man was having a hard time sleeping. He had killed a man in Iraq, but that wasn’t what was disturbing his sleep. It was the face of the man’s son, a twelve-year-old boy, who had run out of the house, grabbed his dead father’s gun, and started shooting at the US soldiers. So the soldiers shot the boy too.[2]

 

Killing the father didn’t kill the spirit of violence; it only perpetuated it so that it infected the dead father’s son and escalated the violence even more. The 20-year old American soldier told Shane that after that experience, when he and his buddies pointed a weapon in some young kids face, they felt like they were only creating another terrorist.  

 

This is what I mean by a spirit of violence that seems to have a life of its own to the point where no matter how many enemies we kill, the violence continues. And this spirit of violence is so infectious and so pernicious that it gives rise to a self-perpetuating culture of violence that justifies, rationalizes and glorifies war. 

 

I know what this is like because I’ve experienced it. I was born into a culture of violence whose very aim it seemed was to prepare me for war. I played war as a child. When I was growing up in the 1950s there was a lot of WWII surplus available, so I equipped myself with a helmet and web gear and fatigues. I practiced killing with toy weapons. I watched war movies in theaters and on television. I read comic books about war. And in a whole lot of ways, I was taught to obey the state—to refrain from violence when the state says that it’s illegal, but then to embrace violence when the state goes to war. All of this was spiritual formation in a deep and profound way.

 

But the day came in the fall of 1975, when my eyes were opened and I saw the truth: the way of Jesus is not the way of violence. The Spirit that shaped the life of Jesus was the Spirit of a loving and merciful God, and not the spirit of violence. I simply could not picture Jesus doing to his enemies what his enemies did to him. I couldn’t imagine Jesus crucifying Pilate. I couldn’t picture Jesus as a military leader or a soldier. I couldn’t picture him taking up the armor of a warrior and then striking down his flesh and blood enemies with the sword. 

 

And then the revelation came: Jesus killed no one. The New Testament is absolutely clear on this point: Jesus killed no one. In the face of all the arguments to justify war offered by brilliant Christian thinkers through the centuries, I couldn’t get past that one simple fact: Jesus killed no one. This insight set me free and changed my life.

 

But then came the challenge: How do I find the boldness and the courage to put on the whole armor of God, to resist the spirit of violence, and live in a world of warring madness in the strength and power of Jesus Christ alone? 

 

I was encouraged by a story I read in a little book by Leslie Weatherhead called The Transforming Friendship. It’s a story from one of the truly tragic and violent periods over these last 4,000 years that occurred in the early part of the 20^th century when the Turks committed heinous atrocities against the Armenian people. 

 

In one particular village, a Turkish officer took part in the looting and pillaging of an Armenian home. The elderly Armenian father and mother, along with the sons of the family, were taken out and shot in cold blood. The daughters were raped by the Turkish soldiers with the officer keeping the oldest daughter for himself. He raped her and made her his slave.

One day, after careful planning, the young Armenian woman managed to escape her tormentor. She found safety in an Armenian refugee camp being run by the British.

 

It was during her stay at this camp that the woman’s life took a turn for the better. She was given training as a nurse so that she could care for the needs of the other Armenians.

 

The woman excelled in her work and it wasn’t long before she was assigned to a hospital where Turkish prisoners were being cared for.

 

On the first night of her new assignment, she passed through the ward with a shaded lantern in her hand. As she moved among the patients, a glint of light from the lantern fell on one of the sickly faces. She stopped dead in her tracks. A look of terror spread across her face as she moved the lantern closer to the man’s face. She gasped. There in the light of that lantern was the Turkish officer--her tormentor--the man who had destroyed her home--killed her loved ones--and shamelessly violated her body. The man was bedridden and on the verge of death. In fact, it would have required no violence at all, but only inattention, to ensure his death that very night.

 

As the woman later confessed, a bitter struggle raged in her mind. What would she do? She finally decided. She began caring for that man. She nursed him back to health. The doctors marveled at the quality and determination of her efforts.

 

Later, after the officer had recovered, the doctor brought the nurse up to the officer’s bed. The doctor said, “But for this girl’s devotion, you would be dead.”

 

The officer’s face turned pale. He looked at the nurse. “I think we have met before,” he said.

 

“Yes, we have met before,” she answered.

 

When the doctor was out of hearing, the officer almost hissed the words at her, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

 

With a firm voice, this is what she said, “Because cruelty cannot be righted by cruelty nor violence by violence. I am a follower of the one who said, ‘Love your enemies.’ That is my religion.”

 

The man lay in stunned silence. He pondered the words he had just heard. Finally, he spoke: “I never knew there was such a religion. If that is your religion, tell me more about it, for I want it.”

 

Night after night the young nurse spent time at the officer’s bedside, speaking to him about the strength and the mighty power that comes from Jesus Christ. [3]

 

To me, this is the real struggle: to live like this Armenian woman, to put on the whole armor of God, to stand firm and to hold fast in the non-violent way of Jesus even when the spirit of violence lies threatening, so very close at hand.     

 

So the struggle continues and questions remain: In a world of war, will we break the cycle of violence, or perpetuate it? Will we draw our strength from Christ, or seek power in weapons of violence designed to kill our flesh and blood enemies? Will we put on the whole armor of God, stand firm and hold our ground in the way of non-violence, or will we surrender to the spirit of violence that produces only more war?   The choices are ours to make. May God help us. Amen.    

 

 

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 [8] Beth A. Richardson, Alive Now!, September/October 1987, 4-5.

 

SCRIPTURE TEXT: Mark 6:1-13

Rev. Monte Marshall, preaching

 

Jesus said: “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”  To put it another way: Hometown folks and family members are a tough crowd! And I know this from personal experience. As I mentioned last Sunday, I was born and raised in Beeville, TX, a county seat town south of here about 90 miles. I was baptized and confirmed in First Methodist Church of Beeville. I participated in the life of that congregation for eighteen years until I journeyed to the far country of Lubbock, TX, to attend Texas Tech University.

 

Now the good people of that church grounded me in the Christian faith. They taught me something of what it means to follow Jesus Christ. And I looked up to these folks as mentors and I continue to thank God for the gifts they gave me, and most of all, for the love they shared with me.  

 

Now given this history, I think you can imagine my trepidation when my home church hired me to serve on the church staff. That was in 1976 after I had graduated from Texas Tech. I was all of 23 years old—and all of a sudden, I was in a position of leadership among the people who had always been the leaders to me. I was even teaching some of the same folks who had taught me.

 

And for the most part, this worked out just fine—but there were several rough spots. As I mentioned last week, I was troubled by the racism that I found within my home church—so I began questioning the status quo of the church as I had known it. I began questioning not only our racism, but our neglect of the poor, our uncritical embrace of affluence, and our easy justifications of war and violence. With these questions came awareness that my discipleship was headed in a more radical direction beyond the norm for my hometown congregation! 

 

I expressed my feelings on these matters during my report to our church’s annual charge conference in 1979. Many hometown folks were there and I could tell that they were taken aback by what I said. This was not what people expected of me—little Monte Paul—Toots and Nell Marshall’s oldest boy.

 

Several days later, one of the pillars of the church called me down to his office. In a very gentle but firm way, he told me that I had overstepped my bounds—that some people had taken offense at what I said. He was giving me a slap on the wrist and trying to put me in my place.

 

And this was hard to take, but not nearly as hard to take as the resistance I got from my dad.   Several years later as this vision of a more radical discipleship took hold, I had a conversation with my dad about the changes I was contemplating making in my life. I longed to participate in a prophetic community that acted for equality and inclusiveness for all people, served the poor, advocated for justice, witnessed for peace, and cared for the environment. I was ready to consume less in order to give more, especially to the poor; share resources with others more freely in community, deepen my prayer life, practice non-violence, and be a better steward of God’s creation.

 

But my dad—God bless him—tried his best to talk me out of it. This was not the vision he had for my life and he feared that if I moved in the direction of deepening discipleship, it would only get me in trouble and lead to disillusionment and disappointment. 

 

Now I had spent a lifetime trying to please my dad. And I knew how proud he was of me. I cherished loving him and being loved by him. And the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint my dad. So after my conversation with my dad was over, I said to Laura Jean: “Well, I guess I’m going to have to wait until my dad dies before I do anything about deepening my discipleship.”  

 

Hometown folks and family members are a tough crowd. And I must admit that in both of these instances of resistance, I was intimidated. Consequently, I’ve had to deal with this nagging fear that playing the prophet for the sake of the gospel might indeed alienate me from the people who mean the most to me in my life—and that’s the last thing I want. I don’t want to offend anyone—I want everyone to like me—so I weigh my words and my actions carefully—perhaps too carefully at times. I wrestle constantly with the temptation to stay in my place—to go along in order to get along. I have to guard against the inclination to be more concerned with people liking me than with my own faithfulness to the gospel. 

 

And that’s what’s at stake, you know—our faithfulness to the gospel. If we follow Jesus, we have a prophetic role to play that will both astound and offend. God intends that our words and deeds be so infused with God’s power that people are astounded when they experience this power being released into the world through us. And we know what God’s power is capable of producing: healing for the sick, food for the hungry, companionship for the lonely, sobriety for the addict, hope for the hopeless, justice for the oppressed, inclusion for the outcast, and shalom for the whole of creation!

 

And yes, there will those who take offense. And yes, some of these will be our hometown folks and our loved ones. They will defend the status quo—resist healing—ignore the hungry—avoid the lonely—write-off addicts—perpetuate hopelessness—sustain injustice—exclude the outcast—and do violence instead of practice shalom.

But my sisters and brothers, I pray God that we’re not intimated by their rejection—that we’re not paralyzed by fear—that we don’t stay in our places—that we don’t go along to get along—that we’re not more concerned with others liking us than we are with our faithfulness to the gospel. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want Jesus Christ to be amazed by our unbelief. I would much prefer that we serve as instruments of God’s power to transform the world.   

So why not pay the price that Jesus paid? Why not go with him all the way and become so immersed in the word of God that we take up the prophets’ task in our own day and time—even if we go without honor among our hometown folks, among our relatives, and even in our own households? Why not?

 

Let me give you an example of the astounding things that can happen when Christ is followed no matter the cost. It was September 20, 1989—the day that F. W. de Klerk was inaugurated as President of South Africa. The legal segregation of the races called apartheid was the law of the land. de Klerk was a Christian who attended church regularly, so he had invited his favorite pastor, a white man named Peter Bingle, to lead a worship service as part of the inaugural events.

 

During his sermon, Pastor Bingle played the prophet and addressed the new president directly: “Mr. de Klerk, as our new President, God is calling you to do his will. Today God calls you to serve as the President of South Africa. God’s commission is not to serve as the President of some people, but as the President of all the people of South Africa.”

 

By the benediction, de Klerk was weeping. He called his family and friends together and said, “Pray for me. God has told me what I must do. And if I do it, I will be rejected by my own people. Pray for me, that I might do the will of God.”Soon thereafter, de Klerk took steps to release Nelson Mandela from prison. He then began negotiations with the African National Congress to dismantle the system of apartheid. And today, in South Africa, apartheid is no more.[1]

 

Now imagine with me the transformation that God is seeking in the world of today—the world that we live in: personal practices and government policies that relieve the suffering of the homeless rather than add to their burdens; that provide a just distribution of wealth between the rich and the poor, and a living wage for all who work; that finally end discrimination against all people including women, people of color, and Gays, Lesbians, Trans-gendered and Bi-sexual persons; that extend hospitality to immigrants; that increasingly beat swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks and learns war no more; that heal the environment rather than degrade it. 

 

Now my brothers and sisters, hometown folks and family members are a tough crowd. They will take offense when we follow Jesus Christ and take up the prophets’ task. But if we hold fast to the work God has given us to do, we will also astound people as God’s power is released in us and through us to transform the world—and that should be enough to keep us going no matter what the cost. And let God’s people say, amen!    

 

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