All God's Children Got Clothes

Luke 20:27-38

        During our vacation Deb and I visited a dear friend in Asheville. Grady had served as my clerk of session in Clinton and was a godsend to every shut-in in our congregation. She moved to a retirement center in Asheville a couple of years ago and we have remained close.

        About a month ago, Grady’s daughter called informing me Grady had suffered from an extensive heart attack. Thanks to the quick response of a rescue team and the medical staff she survived.  But the experience was not without excitement. On reaching the medical facility, her heart stopped and Grady was shocked twice to restart that vital organ.

        When Deb and I arrived at her apartment, we expected to find a frail invalid covered in blankets. Instead we discovered our old friend, bouncing around her apartment, eager to tell us about the new adventures she planned for the coming months. After the usual pleasantries, Grady turned serious. “Louie I have a theological question. When they got me to the hospital, I blacked out and my heart stopped beating. My daughter thought I was gone. They hit me with the paddles and I came back from where ever I went but I have to tell you, I have no memory of seeing any kind of white light. It was just darkness. What on earth do you think that means?”

        I wish I had a dollar for every time I have been asked about heaven and hell. I read somewhere when Dante reinvented hell by writing The Divine Comedy, church attendance exploded. No one wanted to risk going to the place Dante had so vividly described. Likewise, when a person who has no religious affiliation has an out of body experience, he suddenly becomes an expert on heaven.  That amazes me. My personal Bible has over 1600 pages. This includes the 27 glossy photographs with circles and arrows and explanations on the back of each one. In those 1600 pages the word “heaven” is mentioned only a handful of times and it usually refers to the sky which covers the earth. “Hell” or to be more exact “Gehenna” receives even less Biblical interest. The “Christian” development of the idea of Hell happened during the first and second century and its formation was highly influenced by the Greco-Roman culture. Truth is Hell is mentioned only in passing by Jesus but it does get a bit of attention in the Book of Revelation.

        I believe we have given heaven and hell a lot more airtime than they deserve. Might I remind you the resurrection of Jesus is the center piece of the Christian faith. Resurrection is nothing less than the act of a new creation, signaling the divide between the old and new world and inaugurating a new order of life. Without the resurrection of Christ there would be no Christianity. Jesus might have been seen as a great rabbi. Perhaps a new sect would have followed his interpretation of the Torah, but the sect would have remained Jewish. The significance of the resurrection of Christ, to paraphrase First Corinthians 15, is death cannot hold the source of life.  I have no intention of down playing the significance some folks place on of heaven. But I would like to suggest discussions of heaven and hell complicate rather than compliment the New Testament message, that being the significance of God’s love as understood in the life, death and resurrection of Christ Jesus.

To quote Douglas John Hall, “If there is anything distinctive about Christianity, it is that this faith is focused, not on general theism, not on religious principles, not on ethical teachings, not on ritual observances, not on heavenly appearances or worldly observations, but on a life, a life lived under the same basic conditions that affects all life. Faith perceives what transcended this particular life. We believe this life revealed an eternal love in which all life is wrapped. Because of this life, we believe all life is eternal. We are not surprised or threatened if we see this same eternal love manifested in other places. Yet we cling to this particular life for our universal understanding of love. Our faith is bound to this one we call Christ but because we believe the way to the universal is through this particular man we dare to call Son of God.”

        Now that is a mouthful. But it is a glorious mouthful. Hall celebrates the resurrection of Christ. Hall, without speaking of heaven or hell, expounds on a God who created something out of nothing. Through the faithfulness, love, and commitment of God, where there was once only chaos, God created life. This belief in God’s grace informs the biblical story from beginning to end.     This is such good news and should be our emphasis as we share our faith. But we get sidetracked by rabbit holes as we explore our curiosities concerning heaven and hell.

        A perfect example is the text this morning. Jesus was in the Temple just days before his death. The Sadducees, a religious group of great importance, came to Jesus with only death on their minds. They asked tricky questions hoping Jesus would utter some heretical words justifying their claims that Jesus was a dangerous man. They bombarded Jesus with questions such as, “Where do you get your authority? Did the baptism of John come from heaven? Should we pay taxes to Rome?” The questions came fast and furious but Jesus never answered in a way that was in conflict with Torah.

Almost in desperation one of the Sadducees asked, “Moses wrote if a man’s brother dies, leaving a wife with no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise the children in honor of is brother. What if there were seven brothers and each died childless. Would not each brother be obligated to marry the widow? Then when the widow died, who would be her husband when she arrived in heaven?”

        This is such a ridiculous question asked by a Sadducees did not even believe in heaven. But it was also a dangerous question because many of his religious counterparts did recognize an afterlife. No matter how Jesus responded, someone was going to be upset. All ears strained as Jesus spoke.    “Moses speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. God is not God of the dead but rather of the living.”

         Game, Set, Match. The contest was over. Jesus had taken the argument to a place neither religious group was prepared to explore. Jesus affirmed from beginning to end, God’s story is about a new creation while the Pharisees and the Sadducees were arguing over immortality. Is that such a bid deal? Actually it is bigger than a big deal. Immortality is based on a doctrine of human nature that denies death. Resurrection is based on a doctrine of God which says even though we die, God restores us to life beyond out imagination.

        Unfortunately this text and others like it peak the curiosity of those who are doing everything but dying to discover answers about heaven. They jump on the questions of the Sadducees while all but ignoring the comment offered by Jesus. Our curiosity is intrigued with the unknown and we ask, “What will heaven be like? What will we look like? Will we know Uncle Henry? Will our eyesight be restored? Will we recognize each other?” Those and a thousand other similar questions concerning our immortality cross our inquisitive minds. I have to be honest I have not discouraged this. Often, when a family is struggling with the reality of death I have mentioned the deceased is now with family members. I don’t know why I say this. I certainly have no Biblical proof for that kind of statement. I guess it is a way to offer comfort to a grieving family.

The truth is the Bible doesn’t answer all our questions despite our illusions that it should. But what the Bible does tell us is that God is faithful, God’s mercy is immeasurable, and God’s love is beyond our understanding.

41 years ago I was a long haired college graduate who had just been drafted. In my eyes I might as well have been dead. I marched into a barbershop and received the same treatment of a thousand other newly minted G.I.’s. I was then issued my uniform. With my new haircut and olive fatigues I was indistinguishable from the other 200 men in my company.  We soon came face to face with our new drill sergeant.  I still remember his words. “I don’t care if you flunked out of high school or finished college. I don’t care who your mother was. I don’t care if you were rich or poor, black, brown, yellow or white. Now you are green and you belong to me.”

A song from the African-American experience claims, “I got a robe, you got a robe, all God’s children got a robe. When I get to heaven I am going to put on my robe and shout all over God’s heaven.” Maybe that is all we need to know about heaven. God has a robe waiting for each of us. When we put it on, we will belong to God for the rest of eternity.

                                                                                Amen.

Who Are We Called to Be?

2 Thessalonians 1:11-12

        The stewardship committee contacted me before I left for vacation and made me promise I would return home with a sermon that would inspire you to great heights as you turn to the responsibility of filling out your pledge card for the year 2014. Talk about ruining a vacation! I would rather have my teeth cleaned than write a sermon on stewardship. But since Walt and the gang have been working so hard to wisely use your gifts, the least I can do is steal a moment from the grandchildren to search for a bit of inspiration.

        Paul wrote to his friends in the church of Thessalonica, “We pray that God will make you worthy of God’s call.” What has God called Rockfish Presbyterian to be? I am sitting in a bedroom being prepared to welcome my first granddaughter as I ponder this question. The child, still three months away, has already been “blessed” with the name Siddalee. In case you are curious, Siddalee was the main character in the book Divine Origins of the Ya-Ya Sisters. For various reasons the book has had a lasting influence on my daughter. Martina tells me the name Siddalee will inspire my granddaughter to become a strong independent woman. While it takes more than a name to achieve independence, this blessing placed upon Siddalee will serve as a constant reminder of her parent’s desires.

        Who are we, the members of Rockfish Presbyterian Church called to be? At our birth, back in the 1740’s, what was imagined that we might become? Wouldn’t it be interesting to hear the first sermon preached on that Sunday afternoon when this space was dedicated to God? Perhaps it was seen as a meeting house where neighbors would gather once a week to be inspired, share a meal and swap stories. I wonder if in the 1770’s folks gathered here to read the latest documents by Jefferson or Thomas Paine. We know in the 1850’s these pews were occupied by folks wealthy enough to own slaves because those same slaves sat in our balcony. Can you imagine the conversations that must have filled these walls in the days leading to the spring of 1861? Who were they? Who were they called to be?

        For over 200 years farmers would gather here to pray, read scriptures, hear a sermon and then spend a few hours with neighbors before returning to the back breaking vocation of turning over the soil and producing a crop. That is who they were and that was what they were called to be.

        Then in the late 1970’s skiing came to Nelson County. Visitors from Maryland, Virginia and the Carolina’s would come to our beautiful valley. Condo’s were built to accommodate our overnight guest. Then the unimaginable happened. Homes began to spring up around two golf courses and Rockfish Valley was invaded by Yankees. For better or worse, Nelson County and Rockfish Presbyterian were instantly changed. Our membership quadrupled. New leadership emerged that had been born in New Jersey, Indiana, New York and even Georgia. New ideas, new dreams, new expectations materialized. Suddenly Rockfish was not our grandparent’s congregation. I once was told the goal of every church is to have a house full of teenagers. Well that kind of describes us. You didn’t come to Nelson County to retire. You came to play. And along with all that energy you brought minds filled with fresh ideas, hearts over-flowing with compassion, and hands eager to work.

        You are a compassionate people. This year your mission committee has budgeted over $35,000 to be spent by not for profits and non-governmental organizations that work to assist children and the elderly, the hungry, those without homes and those without hope. Better than two thirds of that money will stay in Nelson County. In addition to this $35,000, Rockfish supports the programs of our General Assembly and the Presbytery of the James. Add to that non-budgeted money for Care Bears and other projects, it has been estimated this congregation probably spends close to $60,000 helping thousands of folks do God’s work.

        You work with your hands. With few exceptions, every agency we support financially has someone from Rockfish who is on the Board of the organization or serves as a volunteer. We know where the money is going because we are the ones putting it into action.

And then there are the other opportunities. How many of our neighbors would go cold if it wasn’t for the Wood Ministry? How many of you know someone who has received a prayer blanket? How many folks have been assisted by our Support Group for families dealing with dementia?  And then, just when a family needs a miracle, Arlie and the gang show up.

But you know about all that stuff. So for a moment I want to speak about a uniqueness Rockfish Presbyterian brings to Nelson County. You really are a Light in the Valley. Inside these walls resides a freshness of thought, a desire to communicate and a realization that one train of thought will seldom if ever prevail. You are diverse group, politically, economically, geographically and most of all theologically.

We have a session consisting of 14 members, including the moderator and the Clerk. I believe only five of those 14 were raised Presbyterian. Just to make us honest, a Baptist and a Methodist minister worship here regularly. You come here from a wide and varied theological journey.

Some of you memorized the Apostle’s Creed at birth and say it proudly. Some of you would rather not say it at all. Some of you don’t think twice about using a masculine pronoun to describe God. Others find NO pronoun appropriate when speaking of God. Some of you speak freely of joining relatives one day in heaven. Some of you spend too much time worrying about eternal damnation. Some of you are Universalist while others would prefer not to speak of heaven at all. Most of you celebrate the Biblical characteristics of God as merciful, gracious, slow to anger and steadfast in love while a few of you wonder if God even exists. Let’s face the facts. We are a diverse group that uniquely and beautifully fills this place where heresy meets doctrine and somehow they end up in conversation with one another. I am not sure what to call it or even what to make of it except somehow it seems we are constantly exploring, challenging  and embracing the mystery of God and then exploring, challenging and embracing the mystery of the human condition. We are amused and annoyed, confused and affirmed, breathless and filled with that spirit, Holy or otherwise, that inspires our hearts and our hands to be about this radical work which makes us unique.

Who are we? We are folks given the unique opportunity to rise above the predictable human condition and discover the fleeting and eternal possibilities of a new heaven and new earth. We are good stewards, putting our money where our head and our heart and our hands have already been. Who are we? We are Rockfish Presbyterian, a people of God in a place created by God.

Be Bold. Be Demanding. Be Generous.

Dare to celebrate being a unique Light to this Valley we so dearly love.                                                     Amen.                       

Help me, Help me, Help me

Luke 17:11-19; II Timothy 2:11-13

As a child and then later as a parent, the Andrews’ household observes more than a few time honored tradition on Christmas morning. First, no one enters the living room until the parents are up. Once everyone is present, the children are allowed to open their stockings filled with goodies from Santa. Then preparations are made for breakfast. As a child, I was served oyster stew, slices of salt cured Virginia ham, homemade biscuits, and a cup of fruit cocktail. Deb later added a Moravian pastry. She finds it questionable to eat oyster stew any time of the day.  Before the feast is served, the Christmas story is always read from either Luke or Matthew.

After the meal, we return to the living room to open our treasures. One person is designated to hand out the presents, one gift at a time. Then we all watch and pretend to be delighted as someone else opens their gift. When the kids were younger, Deb frantically wrote down names of the givers of each gift. As our kids got older this became their responsibility. In the afternoon, through thank you notes and phone calls, the kids offered thanks to the givers, acknowledging their generosity.

I am certain each of you have equally memorable Christmas traditions. And I suspect each of you acknowledges thank you notes as a critical component to our festive celebrations. It is a wonderful way to offer appreciation during this glorious season.

But offerings of appreciation can extend beyond family thank-you notes. Some of you come from churches a little more liturgical than ours. If so, you know the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving which is used during communion.

        Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. It is right to give our thanks and praise. Eternal God, holy and mighty it is truly right and our greatest joy to give you thanks and praise and to worship you in every place your glory abides.

Is it not our Christian duty to be grateful not only to others but also to God? This is certainly the question addressed in our gospel reading this morning. Jesus and the disciples were entering a village near Samaria.  This was foreign territory to the disciples and I suspect they were a bit suspicious. To make matters worse, 10 men appear before them, each infected with leprosy.  In the last 100 years we have made some remarkable discoveries concerning this dreaded disease, including the fact that it is really hard to catch. But in the time of Jesus the disease was treated like a plague. Because leprosy was believed to be highly contagious, lepers were placed in colonies with little or no contact with others. Any kind of skin disorder could be diagnosed as leprosy. In the time of Jesus, a simple rash could become a death sentence.

Keeping their distance the lepers called out, “Jesus have mercy on us.”  Are these lepers so different from any of us? Often the burdens of life seem to separate us from the rest of our family and community.  We each have difficulties and troubles. While folks attempt to respond to our dilemma, they have no idea what we are going through.  We might have an illness which exposes our invincibility. Perhaps we are paralyzed by the deteriorating health of a family member. Maybe there is difficulty at work. Perhaps it is trouble with a neighbor. Sometimes we just feel worn out by a combination of all of the above. Just getting up in the morning becomes more and more difficult. Anne Lamott, a kindred soul of those reduced to lament writes, “Each morning my prayer is quite simple. I pray ‘Help me, help me, help me’, because nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.”

        I believe Lamott intentionally referred to that old spiritual which goes,

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen,

Nobody knows like Jesus,

Nobody knows he trouble I’ve seen,

Glory Hallelujah.

The writer of this song believes regardless where we are in life, God is not only present but God has already been there. In other words our troubles need not have the last word.

This becomes rather obvious in Jesus’ encounter with the lepers. He responded to their plea for mercy by saying, “Go show yourself to the priest.” This is an amazing moment that we should not miss. I would have spoken up and said, “Are you kidding me? The priests were the first one to throw me in the wilderness. No one else is left but you. If you can’t help, just say so. But don’t just send me back where I have already been.”

Evidently the lepers had a lot more faith than I. They didn’t confer with each other. They did not engage Jesus in theological discourse. Not a word was spoken. They  heard the words of Jesus, turned and headed toward the local synagogue. Their faith had made them well. What other explanation could there be? They followed instructions, a cure appeared. End of story, or so it would seem.

Verse 15 reads, “Then one of them, when he knew he was well, turned back, praising God.” Let me begin by suggesting there is a lot of information missing between the end of verse 14 and the beginning of verse 15. Here are ten lepers, ten outcast, ten folks who have not seen their families for years, ten people who are walking miracles.  Every day of their life began with a prayer for some normalcy, “Help me, Help me, Help me.” They would have given anything to have argued with their children over curfew, or put in long hours at work, or had a misunderstanding with their spouse.  They wanted to share life not just dream about it. They wanted to be reunited with their community. They wanted to go home. Then suddenly, miraculously, the road home was available. What would you have done? Exactly what they did. They did not pass GO. They did not collect $200 dollars. They just went directly home.

When I was younger, I led a lot of youth events. Often my preparation for the events would begin six months in advance. I would come up with a theme and then start to create. At the appropriate time I would gather a team and together we would put our creative energies into my design. A lot of work took place before the Friday afternoon when my youth group would jump into the church bus and head across the state to a destination where over a hundred kids would gather. Once there, it often seemed bedlam ruled. Slowly but surely each piece fell into place. By worship on Sunday morning I knew all the work had been worth it. After cleaning up the mess that only teenagers can make, we got back on the bus and headed home. As we pulled into the parking lot, the kids would wake up and make their zombie like walk to a parent’s car. I would stand in the middle of the parking lot, shamelessly looking for a word of thanks for all the work I had done. Usually all I got was one of my children saying, “Dad I am exhausted, can we go home?” Once home, they would immediately fall into bed. Deb would enter their room to say goodnight and often stay for an hour as my children talked about how great the event had been. I would sit outside the room and beam.

Everyone wants to be thanked, even God. And it seems one of the lepers, a Samaritan, an outsider, remembered that. He returned to the parking lot where Jesus stood waiting. Jesus hid his surprise and joy by sarcastically saying, “Didn’t I heal ten people?” Trust me, Jesus was delighted. His work had been recognized. Someone took the time to say thank-you. I imagine Jesus gave the young man a pat on the back and said, “Get out of here; go see your family; your faith made you well.”

“Your faith made you well.” I often wish Jesus had phrased that differently. Each Sunday we share joys and concerns. We give thanks when a crisis or illness has been averted. But not every person shares a joy. We hear of folks suffering, folks dying and folks with friends and relatives struggling with personal problems.  Is the faith of some folks greater than others? Without a doubt. But does God answer prayer based on the level of our faith. I suspect you don’t believe that anymore than I. So what is going on here?

A correct reading of the book of Job portrays an increasingly impatient man asking some very serious questions of God. The answer Job received is not what Job wanted to hear. God has a plan which will be compassionate and just, but no one has earned the right to know when this will happen. That stinks, but the longer I am in ministry the more I agree with those words from the writer of God.

I can not to explain to you why some folks receive a miracle and others don’t. In fact if I did, I would suggest you go find another minister because I have crossed that dangerous line of declaring I perfectly understand the mind of God.  So what do we do with these finals word of Jesus?

Ten lepers asked for mercy. Ten lepers were made clean. One praised God for his healing, and the praise made the healed man whole. Perhaps Luke wants us to understand what happens when the faithful are able to demonstrate thankfulness.

A number of years ago I went to a concert offered by two master story tellers, Guy Clark and John Prine. They sat on stage by themselves, only armed with guitars and swapped songs. Sometimes they would play together. Often one would simply become a member of the audience. After one of Prine’s offerings, Clark started laughing uncontrollably. He had probably heard the song a hundred times before but on that particular night the gospel of John Prine seemed to heal his soul. When he stopped laughing, Guy offered the greatest praise one artist can give to another.  He said, “That song was so good it straightened the wrinkles in this old face.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Praise seems to be inner health made audible.”  I’m no doctor but I bet there is an amazing link between being grateful and mental/physical health. I might even suggest if you want to be made whole, laugh more, be grateful more, and write a few thank-you cards on days other than Christmas. What would Anne Lamont say to all this? She writes, “While I begin everyday saying ‘Help me, help me, help me’, I always end it saying ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’.”

Perhaps another way is the ritual we partake in a few moments when we sing, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”  May I suggest we sing it loud, we sing it from the bottom of our hearts, and we sing like it will make us whole. 

Who knows, perhaps it will.

                                                                           AMEN.

Remembering Forward

II Timothy 1:3-14

A Communion Meditation

Paul, in writing to his dear friend Timothy remarks, “I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, in you.”

A few weeks ago in the Adult Sunday School class someone complimented me by saying. “Your face lights up when you teach us the Biblical stories. Where did you get such a love of the Bible?”  While I could pick the names of many teachers who thrilled me with their incredible love of scripture, like Timothy, I was blessed with parents and grandparents who adored the Bible.  Notice the word I picked. I could have said “they studied the Bible”, or “they revered the Bible” or “they honored, or obeyed”, or a lot of other appropriate words. But the one I chose was “adored”. What does it mean to adore? In the evening as I gaze upon Lake Monacan a phrase from Wordsworth comes to mind. “It is a beauteous evening, calm and free; a holy, quiet time, breathless with adoration.”

There is something holy in the idea of adoration. Perhaps that is why at Christmas one of our most beloved hymns breathes, “O come let us adore Him.” Adoration is beyond love. It inspires, it uplifts and even makes us a bit crazy. Romeo loved Juliet but Don Quixote adored Dulcinea. When I pick up my Bible, it comes alive with voices, speaking from their past, speaking from their experience, speaking from their faith, speaking from their fears, always urging me to wrap both my heart and mind around a story more improbable than an aging knight jousting with windmills. Faith, seen through the cold eyes of calculating reason, makes no sense. But faith, swayed, even manipulated by adoration, leaves critics wringing their hands in disbelief. To the critic, faith is a delusional misuse of our greatest gift, that being our intellect. I have never understood that argument. Based on the witness of those who have gone before us, faith gives one the courage to explore possibilities logic has deemed imprudent. The critic might suggest I believe in nothing but I know I have never had that kind of courage.

After wonderful praise aimed at Timothy’s linage, Paul uttered an odd statement, “Do not be ashamed of the Gospel.” What on earth was Paul talking about? Can you imagine Timothy being ashamed of his grandmother’s or his mother’s faith? Can you imagine Timothy looking on the accomplishments of Paul with anything other than pride? Don’t be too quick to answer that. Remember, Timothy was a novice and Paul knew this. Timothy had probably spent a couple of nights around the campfire singing, “Kum Bah Yah”. He probably attended a couple “Young Life” meetings, or went on tour with “Up with People”. Everything Timothy knew about the gospel was upbeat and positive. Everything Timothy knew about God was filled with hopeful anticipation. Timothy had not experienced “midnight in a cypress swamp”. Timothy had not been dragged off to jail. He had not dealt with the death of someone close to him. He had not been laughed at because he was bold enough to believe in the power of the resurrection. Last but not least, Timothy had not been disappointed by God. But Paul, writing from the confines of a jail in Rome, knew that all those doubts and fears and disappointments and disillusionments would soon be part of Timothy’s future. Paul knew not once, not twice but more than three times Timothy would stare into the deep abyss of his own soul and wrestle with his faith. Paul had been there, Peter had been there and I dare say Lois and Eunice had taken the same difficult journey.

I invite you to read “Come Be My Light”, the private writings of Mother Teresa. While we might question why she would choose to live the majority of her life among the poor in Calcutta, few would doubt the faith of this saint. Yet her prayers often reflected pain, doubt, disbelief and sorrow. Surely if Mother Teresa in her darkest moments could question the mercy of God then we can be forgiven for our lapses into doubt.  

The amazing part of the book was she received her courage from the faith of those who surrounded her. She spoke lovingly of her fellow sisters. She praised the priest with whom she worked. Most of all, she thanked God for never leaving her.

Sometimes it is the faith of a mother or a father. Sometimes it is the words of a dear friend. Sometimes it is the silence of a cherished companion. Sometimes it is the wisdom of one we never thought of as wise. Sometimes it is someone we hardly knew. But when needed, some particular person, in their own peculiar way, invites us to have an audience with God.

And in that holy moment God says, “Do not be ashamed of your doubt; do not be ashamed of your fear; do not be ashamed of your anger; do not be ashamed of your faith. Remember who you are and who you were. Remember those who came before you. Remember those who will come after you. Take the bread and remember. Take the cup, and remember. Today, as we celebrate World Wide Communion, I ask you to remember the living and the dead. Remember those who offered affirmation and those who raised questions. Remember those who brought you up and those who brought you down a notch. Remember those who were never ashamed of the gospel. Eat the bread. Drink the cup.  Remember……You are never alone.     Amen.