God Is So Good

Psalm 85; Hosea 1:2-10

 

        Of all the stories in the Bible my favorite might be Hosea and Gomer. On the surface the story seems to be a metaphor on marriage and infidelity.  But that explanation hardly touches the depth of this love affair. It is a parable of the broken covenant between God and God’s people. Hosea becomes a living symbol of this relationship by marrying a prostitute and becoming the father of her children. Gomer is no Pretty Woman. She never denies her unfaithfulness. She recklessly abandons Hosea and returns to her former life. Yet Hosea loves her. The central theme of this fable becomes an intriguing question. How far can Homer wander from Hosea before he gives up on her? We never discover an answer to this question because Gomer never discovers that boundary. She goes as far as she dares, yet Hosea still finds her and brings her home.

        If you have not read the story, I suggest it compares with the parable Jesus tells about the Prodigal Son. On the surface of both stories lingers the difficult question, “When should one give up on a child or a spouse?”  But that is not the only question being asked. Everyday separations involve two human beings, with two different stories, and multiple interpretations based on the bias of numerous witnesses. Both Hosea and the parable told by Jesus are asking serious questions concerning the relationship between humanity and God. There is no “he said, she said”. There is no wiggle room to question the guilt of Gomer or the Prodigal. The difference in the stories is only the prodigal seeks forgiveness. Gomer never wants to come home.   She claims to be miserable and has little desire to be constrained by Hosea’s benevolence. So the real question becomes, “Are there limits to God’s forgiveness?”

        Quite frankly that depends on which section of the Bible you choose to read. In the early stories, malcontents are not only punished, they are left in the wilderness to perish. Originally Israel was given a simple choice. Do what is right and live. Do what is sinful and die. Saul, the first King, was not only deserted by Yahweh, Saul falls on his own sword. Saul was replaced by David, the charming poet whom everyone loved. David represented the right and holy way to live. He was celebrated as God’s own son. But even David could be unfaithful. On one auspicious morning while looking down from his window at the wife of Urriah, David set in motion a plan by which he successfully broke commandments one, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. I could make an argument David also broke number five because he definitely embarrassed his mom. David was punished but no new king was appointed. David was still God’s guy.

        This confused the priest and prophets who were keeping score. Why was David still among the living? Why did the second son of David and Bathsheba become the next king? Was the relationship between Yahweh and the king different than the relationship between Yahweh and the King’s subjects? Some wanted to claim Yahweh as a God who was cool, calm, distant, and only desired to be exalted. But the Old Testament poets began to proclaim Yahweh as passionate, committed, and even jealous. They  introduced a new concept into Israel’s theological language.  Our God is faithful……………. regardless.

        One such poet was the person author of Psalm 85. Written during a time of internal peril, the poet turned to The One who has always been faithful. The poem begins, “O God, remember when You forgave Your people. Remember when You withdrew Your wrath. Can You now find it within Your gracious Spirit to forgive us? Surely You cannot be angry with us forever.

        This was a radical idea. The poet reminded God who God claimed to be. Sin is inevitable, but the poet identifies God as The One who initiates salvation. Instead of the God of Wrath who haunts the pages of Leviticus and Numbers we are introduced to the gracious mercy of a parent who cannot abandon the reckless child. Even as Israel is a willing prostitute to the gods of greed and authority, the God of the poet chases after Israel to bring her safely home. 

        Sometimes I believe our greatest sin is loss of memory. We are so good at holding grudges, particularly against folks we once loved. When someone angers or disappoints us, they have dared to disrupt our ordered lives. Our love turns to hurt and then into rage and we forget any redemptive quality we ever saw in our adversary. We have been wounded. We demand a confession. We desire punishment.

This is the way the oldest writers of the Bible believed a relationship with God worked. When Israel sinned they were expected to confess before undergoing harsh banishment from God’s grace. Examples given were slavery in Egypt and exile in Babylon.  But the poets began to claim that their God never sat on the sidelines waiting for an apology. Their God remembered Israel before the sin. Their God actively pursued the sinner even at the risk of being disregarded. The poet claimed their God……. our God, remembered. The poet claimed Their God…..our God, sees beyond who we are at our worst moment and re-imagines who we might become. Reconciliation is not an impossible dream. It is the only acceptable alternative.

Listen again to the words of Psalm 85:

Steadfast love and fidelity meet.

Righteousness and peace kiss.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground.

Reconciliation will look down from the sky.

 

God remembers; God loves; God pursues; God forgives;

And God expects no less from us.

Every day, in places as far away as Nashville and Paris, poets string together words, hoping for that magical combination which will turn a lovers ear or melt a broken heart. Sometimes it works. Sometimes righteousness and peace do kiss. 

The poets know our lives are filled with too many storms where every battle seems more important than the last. We win some, we lose some, but we fight them all clinging to the illusion that God is on our side.

In our desire to be St. George we forget with each dragon comes not only a flame and smoke but silence.  That stillness might be the calm before the next storm. But it can also be the God given opportunity to embrace and kiss.

Righteousness desires reconciliation and so God pursues us. Shalom longs for wholeness, and so God heals us. But God refuses to dance alone. Sometimes we are the once who must reach out. Sometimes we are the ones who must remember and forgive. Sometimes we are the ones who must initiate a touch. Sometimes we are the ones who must awaken a kindred spirits.

Since I was a child I have sung Jesus Loves Me.  Sometimes I forget Jesus’ love expands beyond me. I ask myself how Jesus could possibly love a person I have come to hate.  That person is a despicable, lying piece of scum. To be more exact, he is exactly the way I must occasionally look to God.  But God remembers who I am capable being. God loves me, and my enemy……….regardless.

This is hard stuff. How can I forgive if forgiveness is not sought? Why did Hosea continued to pursue Gomer even after she said she was never coming home? The poet claims God remembers who we were and who we are capable of becoming once again. The text doesn’t make exceptions.

I know God loves me, regardless. But doesn’t it also mean God loves that person I really don’t care for, regardless.  I may not like it but it seems to be God’s choice.

Thanks be to God for a willingness to pursue both of us, no matter how ugly it might occasionally get. What I have a problem with is when God has the nerve to say to me, “Go and do likewise.”                     To God be the glory.  Amen.

                                                       

Who Is Telling the Stories?

Luke 10:38-42

 

        One of my favorite quotes by Francis of Assisi is, “Preach the gospel at all times, if necessary, use words.”  That is so much easier said than done.  We are a culture in love with words.  Turn on the TV and there is more advertising than programming. Music on the radio has been replaced with sports talk, political talk, entertainment talk and sometimes people just talking for the sake of talking. Motivational speeches have become a big time business.  Sometimes words are just used to occupy air that could be filled with blessed silence. We talk about the weather, we talk about our neighbors, we talk about our “favorite teams”, but more often than not, we just talk about nothing at all. With all the exaggeration, boasting, and deception linked to speech, it has become really hard to take someone for their word. And yet the concept of Word is the center piece of our faith.

        The prologue of John begins, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God.”  How holy is a “word” today?  We understand that a word can be a powerful force, a convincing force, a manipulative force, a selfish force, but can it be holy? Do we believe that one holy interaction with God’s truth has the power to change our lives?  That is the question before us as we grapple with these five verses in the gospel of Luke.

It is a simple story.  Jesus was on the way to visit his two dear friends, Mary and Martha.  One woman represents the folks in this world who believe cleanliness is next to godliness, especially if the Son of God happens to be popping in for an evening meal.  If Jesus was coming by for a visit would you want an unclean rug to detract from his presence?  Of course not. You would put out the best linens to grace the table, the best wine to occupy the cup, the finest breads to appeal to his palate.  You would want everything to be perfect for the one who models perfection. And, you would want everyone on board, sweeping, dusting, setting the table, checking the food, doing all those things that makes a house hospitable to the one who visits.

Certainly four hands would have been better than two but two was all Martha had.  Once Jesus arrived, Mary ignored the pot roast, forgot to pour the wine, and discarded the cheese and crackers.  She slipped off her apron, sat at the feet of Jesus and all she did was listen.  Martha was beside herself.  What could be more important than those final preparations that make a good meal?   Perhaps only the mysterious power that comes from a word that lifts us to heights we never imagined possible.

Mary wasn’t lazy, Mary wasn’t shirking her duties, Mary simply was spellbound by the Word.  How often are we captured by something spoken?

The American Adventure has been blessed with great orators.  My list certainly might be different from yours but I recall three speeches, nearly from memory, that highlight everything that is breathtaking about America. 

Let’s begin with March 23^rd, 1775, inside St. John’s Church in Richmond Virginia.  “Gentlemen may cry peace, peace, but there is no peace.  The war is already begun.  Is life so dear, or peace so sweet as to purchase it at the price of chains and slavery?  Forbid it Almighty God!  I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death.”

Certainly you recall November 19, 1863, at a newly constructed cemetery outside of Gettysburg Pennsylvania. “It is for us the living to be dedicated to the unfinished work which they who fought here have so nobly advanced.  We are to be dedicated to the great task before us and resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.”

And what about the words spoken August 28, 1963, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. “Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.  Even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.  I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal’.”

Patrick Henry, Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King each knew the power of the word and how to make their words eternal.  Could you imagine being in Richmond, or Gettysburg, or Washington DC just before one of these men took the stage and say to a friend, “Guest might be dropping by after the ceremony. I should run home and make sure the house is straight.”

When something of this magnitude happens you drop everything scheduled, you press forward and strain to hear every word, not just hoping, but rather knowing that something remarkable, something ageless, something that will inspire your children’s children is about to be spoken.  I have gone to St. John’s church in Richmond. I have visited that graveyard in Gettysburg. I have stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I went for one reason, to stand where those words were first spoken.  Once there, I understood those words not as “historic” but as visionary. They still ring with a freshness that defines every age.  They are holy words written on our souls.

When holy words are spoken, why wouldn’t we want to stop whatever we are doing and transfer our full attention to the possibility that those words might completely transform our lives?  Imagine Jesus coming to see you.  Would be your priority be a clean house or an open mind? Mary made her choice. She sat and listened as Jesus said, “Mary, God so loves the world that my father would do anything for your benefit.”  She heard him say, “Mary, you worry too much about things that are not really that important.  Look at how God cares for the birds of the air and the flowers of the field.  Do you really think that God will not care for you, the most precious gem in all of creation?  She heard him promise, “Mary, someday this life will end, but do not be afraid.  I will go before you and prepare a place for you.  In my Father’s house there are many rooms.  One of them has been especially prepared for you.” 

Perhaps Jesus told Mary a story about a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, or a father who had two sons, or a shepherd who lost one of a hundred sheep, or of a great feast that had been prepared for the bride groom.  No matter which word was spoken, it was a word that caused Mary to follow Jesus to the cross, to the grave, and beyond.  It was a word that gave Mary hope and resilience.  It was a word that lived longer than the effects of a clean table or a dusted floor. 

I am not making light of the presence of Martha.  Where would a church be without the Martha’s that constantly practice acts of hospitality, the Martha’s that show up unannounced to care for the gardens, the Martha’s that struggle with church budgets, the Martha’s that take care of those little details that no one notices.  Churches cannot operate without Martha.  But the church would not exist without Mary.

The history of our great country cannot be told without remembering the oratory of the Henrys, Lincolns and Kings.  Likewise the faith our church cannot be understood only through acts of justice and mercy.  Someone needs to tell the stories.  There are a lot of Mary’s out there who need a word of hope, a word of grace, and a word of truth.  Therefore  I implore you, Listen to the Word, Speak the Word, Sing the Word, Do the Word. Become the Word.  Somewhere, Mary is listening.

Amen.

Don't Ask the Question Unless You Know the Answer

Luke 10:25-37

 

        I have watched enough TV to know that if you are a lawyer you never ask a question unless you are certain what the answer will be. Obviously the lawyer in our text never watched Perry Mason. Can you imagine Perry Mason getting tripped up by not knowing exactly how his witness was going to respond? Certainly not. 

        The encounter between the lawyer and Jesus began quite innocently. It seems the lawyer wants to make sure Jesus is the real deal.  “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Maybe the lawyer thought Jesus was some off- the-wall charlatan selling magic beads and “Love Potion Number 9”. Jesus responded with his own question. “What is written in the law?” The lawyer, joyfully recited a verse he had learned as a child. “Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

        Jesus responded. “Good for you. Your parents taught you well. If you follow this law you will live.” The trap had been set and the lawyer, forgetting the first rule of his profession, took the bait. “Jesus, just one more question. Who is my neighbor?” Jesus answered with the best known and perhaps most misunderstood parable he ever told.

        If I should  ask the average person on the street to tell me what comes to mind when they hear the phrase Good Samaritan the most popular answer would be, “Someone who helps someone else.” Some might raise a question concerning “The Good Samaritan Law.” This is a piece of legislature stating if you stop on the road to assist someone and are injured, the insurance company does not have to compensate you.  In other words, if you consider yourself a Good Samaritan, you bear a risk. Actually this goes a long way in with keeping with the intention of the original story.

        Through the years we have lost our understanding of how radical this story actually was. Among law abiding, synagogue attending Jews in the time of Jesus, the phrase Good Samaritan was an oxymoron.  Samaritans were believed to be obnoxious half-breed heathens. Everyone knew they were thieves waiting for the chance steal from the rich, rape unsuspecting women, and sell their children off to the highest bidder.

        Since none of us share this kind of venom toward Samaritans, perhaps it would help if I told a modern version of the story. Once there was a man name John. He was a good man who had spent his entire life as a bricklayer. By the time John was 45 his body was beginning to break down. His back was an absolute mess. It was getting hard to even straighten up. John went to his local doctor and was prescribed pain pills. Well you can see where this is going. In less time than you might imagine John was addicted to various forms of opioids. No longer able to receive prescriptions, John tried buying them on the street.  A favorite place for drug dealers was across from the local hospital. John gathered all the money he could find and agreed to meet a couple guys after dark. Unfortunately the dealers had no intention of selling anything to John. They beat him up, took his money, and left him for dead.

        The first person who noticed John was a young intern. He had just pulled a twelve hour shift and was beyond exhaustion. His first instinct when he saw the man was to make sure he was OK. But then common sense took over. The intern rationalized the man was just another drunk. If he was still there in the morning, the intern would notify the hospital security.

        Later two nurses walked by. They heard John groaning and wanted to help but they were afraid that it might be some kind of trap. Fearing for their safety they decided to report the incident once they got to the hospital but then they had more urgent tasks which needed their attention.

        A third man walked by. He had recently been hired by the hospital to work on the maintenance crew. Luis was an undocumented refugee from El Salvador. The hospital was over- budget and understaffed so few questions were asked. Luis worked this part-time job at night and held a construction job during the day. When Luis noticed the man in the ally, he hesitated. To offer help would mean Luis would have to expose himself. The police might be brought in. Luis would risk not only losing his job but possibly be deported. He started to walk away on by and then stopped. He remembered his priest in San Salvador who never stopped asking the question, “Who is my neighbor?” The response was always. “The one who shows kindness.”

        Luis went back into the ally. He picked up John and took him into the emergency room. Immediately questions were asked. Luis got nervous. When the opportunity presented itself he slipped through the back door. He knew he could never come back to the hospital.  It was too risky. John never met the man who had saved his life.

        Kurt Vonnegutt captured the essence of this story when once asked what the future held in store for young folks. Vonnegutt responded, “Welcome to earth. It’s hot in the summer, cold in the winter. It is round, wet, and crowded. You might live to be 100 if you are unlucky. There is only one rule that really matters; you have got to be kind.”

        How often is kindness our primary motivation? The world of that young lawyer was probably just like our world today, a place driven by greed, competition, and what is best for me. Even our most ethically driven folk seem more concerned with rights more than forgiveness, with justice more than mercy, with equality more than compassion. Kindness is seen as a weakness, a character flaw. Oh I have no doubt we are kind to grandmothers and babies but about the babies and grandmothers who aren’t branches on our family tree?

        Now it was Jesus’ time to ask a question. The story is told, the lawyer wishes he had kept his mouth shut but the lesson was far from over. Jesus asked, “Know you tell me. Who was the neighbor?

        Our Presidential election is 500 days away. I will commit to the man or woman who pledges to Make America Kind Again.  I am patiently waiting for that candidate to throw their hat or purse into the ring.             TGBTG   Amen.

Round Midnight

Psalm 30

               

What you just heard was Thelonious Monk’s haunting tune “Round Midnight”. It is a composition based on eleven notes, played differently each time, always begging for closure and yet never quite finding resolution.  When folks hear Monk for the first time often their reaction is less than complimentary. He doesn’t play music that fits our ear. It is dissonant, haunting, reflecting someone who has wrestled with life and come out the other side with a different answer. Some musicians claimed Monk was crazy until they sat down and played his compositions. Monk changed the landscape of jazz because as he liked to say, “A piano doesn’t have any wrong notes. It just has notes you’re afraid to play.” That sort of fits my definition of the unknown. The unknown will haunt you, even terrify you but eventually it might save you.  Round Midnight was a sonnet written after many a sleepless night before finally discovering a new harmony at dawn with the power to melt ones discontent.

What haunts the writer of Psalm 30? Does it really matter? The far more important question is why is midnight to dawn sometimes the longest six hours of our day? How did this poet come to understand and embrace his mourning? How is she able to dance with the coming of the dawn?

If you want to discover answers concerning the human psyche, it is best to learn from someone like Monk who was just a little bit crazy.  Walter Brueggemann, the best Old Testament scholar I know, has certainly experienced both the dusk and dawn. Because of his own “demons”, he comes to the Psalms in a way that invite both my left feet to the dance floor.

Brueggemann claims within the Book of Psalms we encounter three distinct categories of poems. There are the ones we experience regularly in our hymns. “For the beauty of the Earth” or “I will lift my eyes to the hills” are relatively harmless songs glorify God as the creator of the entire universe. Being folks who have chosen to live in paradise, we celebrate these poems on a regular basis.

A second category of poems often remain hidden from public view. They are dark stories which expose the frailty of the human spirit. “Help me God; I am waste deep in my own discontent.” “Rescue me God from those who would conspire to do me harm.” Psalms of lament expose the underbelly of our souls. They are desperate songs, filled with angst written by someone who has lost hope in everything but God. Sometimes that is not a bad place to be.

The problem we discover is we are always going round in circles  trying to get back to the starting point before our troubles, before our dreams, interrupted what we thought was a pretty good life. Once returning to the starting point, we refuse to believe anything is seriously wrong. So we hop back on the road most often traveled. And the troubles and the dreams return. We can fool anyone in the daylight. But we can’t even fool ourselves round midnight.

 Psalm 30 is a step beyond this vicious circle. It is a song of new orientation.  That is a fancy way of saying our trials will be over only when we pick up some place other than where we originally started. Guy Clark, another crazy musician, has made a career writing songs about folks looking for a new dawn. One of my favorites is about a woman leaving a marriage because she and her husband can only go round and round. Clark writes,

She ain’t going nowhere, she’s just leaving,

She ain’t going nowhere she can’t breathe in,

She ain’t going home, and that’s for sure.

 

Psalms of new orientation tell us we can never go home again. That is not exactly what we want to hear. We are comfortable at home. We trust being home after all home is home sweet home. It is our fortress, our savior, our source of all that is and all that will be. It is where we find our joy and delight…… most of the time. But home, the trusted familiar, often camouflages a season of ragged and painful disarray.  Retreating guarantees stagnation. Is that really all we desire? Must we remain comfortable with the shadows that disrupt our rest?  Or do we dare turn to another source of salvation.

Considering the science of psychology is a little more than 100 years old it is amazing the conclusions reached by the author of the 30^th Psalm.  First, humans desire seasons of well being. But humans experience seasons of hurt and alienation often resulting in resentment and self-pity.   Then we are surprised, even overwhelmed, when joy breaks through despair. The Psalmist identifies this as decisive move to live in the light of God’s grace. The Psalmist makes a radical leap from faith in himself to faith in something larger than she could imagine.  The author travels from fear, to surprise, to thanksgiving.

I believe with all my heart this is what brings us brings us to the Lord’s Table.  Enthralled by the midnight of our discontent we desire our mourning to be turned to dancing. The body broken reminds us of our own brokenness. But each time the cup is lifted we are surprised by the gift of God’s grace. Going home is no longer a return to the expected but a journey into new possibilities.  When we travel uplifted by the grace of God, we travel clothed with joy, we travel a new road, living a new life all to the glory of God. In our joy we are able to sing:

O God, shine forth into the darkness of our night.

O God, melt the frost that encompasses our soul.

Wake us to the dawn of a new day,

Filled with colors we have never before experienced.

You have turned our mourning into dancing,

And we will give you thanks forever.               Amen.

 

       

 

 

 

Many Are Chosen But Few Respond

Luke 10:1-16

 

        Jesus said, “I am sending you out like lambs in the midst of wolves.” Is it any wonder folks hesitate when asked to be an elder? Many who responded have a horror story. Those that say no seldom give it a second thought. And yet what would the Presbyterian Church do without elders? Can you imagine leaving any important decision up to a minister?

        Fortunately this congregation has a history of selecting folks who are not only compassionate, but can balance a budget without having to remove their socks. Every year I am impressed by the quality of folks you choose. This year is no exception. Let me list some of their attributes:

        Two are leaders in our Adult Sunday School class.

        Two are choir members.

        Two are involved in wood ministry.

        All four are very active in worship.

        One works in the church garden.

        One prepares the sanctuary to reflect the season.

        Two fashion themselves as poets.

        Two are realist.

        Two are male and two are female.

        Two play golf and two play the guitar.

        All four have been preparing for this their whole life.

        Leslie spent her life responding to emergencies.

        Bob took emergencies and gave them structure.

        Phyllis is transformational.

Greg worked with transformers.

None were raised Presbyterian but they are now.

They are different as night and day yet one in Christ.

Each brings a story and each brings a heart shaped by that story. We, the people of Rockfish, will be blessed.

I got to know Greg while we were together in Guatemala. Greg went to build stuff. With no tools, few supplies, and no common language, Greg and his new friends built something that will last forever, a relationship. 

Leslie is remarkable. She is never lacking for tools, or energy, or compassion. But her best trait is the ability to occasionally come up to me and say, “Louie there is another way to approach this situation. Try and find it.”

Bob is quiet, until you get to know him. Bob loves the drama of the stage yet walks away from drama for drama’s sake.  Bob is reflective yet does not always reflect the prevailing view. One or two of you have heard Bob pray. It is a holy moment.

Phyllis celebrates sacredness while acknowledging the brokenness we each bear.   Listen to her sing. When joy overcomes her fear, an angel is released.

Sessions…..and churches thrive when relationships are based not on who you are but who are willing to become.

Sessions….and churches blossom when wisdom is exchanged from more than one direction.

Sessions……and churches flourish when common prayer becomes catalyst for the extraordinary.

Sessions…..and churches become transformational when each person is recognized as a child of God.

The gifts these four folks bring are astonishing. But that is just the beginning of the good news. Eight other elders with equally impressive gifts eagerly await the opportunity to serve with Greg, Leslie, Bob and Phyllis.    This truly is a day that God has made. Let us be glad and rejoice. 

Would Greg, Leslie, Bob and Phyllis come forward.