A Thought For The Week Of September 29

"The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup ..." (Psalm 16:5, NRSV) There's a lot of what you might call "flowery" or "majestic" language in the Bible to describe God. This verse isn't especially flowery or majestic in its description of God, but I do find it particularly interesting. "The Lord is my portion and my cup ..." At first glance, I wonder what that really means. And my initial uncertainty is a good thing, because it demonstrates that I'm not satisfied with what I know of God, and want to know God (and be known by God) more deeply and more intimately. As I struggle with these words, I find myself thinking about the image of a meal, where people have gathered, hungry and thirsty; in need of food and drink. This verse is suggesting to me that God is the one who truly satisfies our hunger and our thirst. As I look ahead to World Wide Communion this coming Sunday, I realize that there's a resonance with Holy Communion here. I reflect on Jesus being revealed in bread and wine. I think of God sending manna from heaven, and of Jesus describing himself as the living water. The point of this verse becomes (for me anyway) that with God even our most basic needs are met. There's nothing we truly need as long as we have God. To me, that's a pretty good summary of the good news. In fact, it's very good news! Whatever struggles we face in this world; whatever needs we perceive in this life: God is there, providing for us. All out of love. Have a great week!

September 28 sermon: Two Kinds Of Faith

 The whole Israelite community set out from the Desert of Sin, traveling from place to place as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. So they quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses replied, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you put the Lord to the test?” But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses. They said, “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?” Then Moses cried out to the Lord, “What am I to do with these people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord answered Moses, “Go out in front of the people. Take with you some of the elders of Israel and take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will stand there before you by the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it for the people to drink.” So Moses did this in the sight of the elders of Israel. And he called the place Massah and Meribah because the Israelites quarreled and because they tested the Lord saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

(Exodus 17:1-7)

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     Most of you are probably expecting me to be talking about water coming from a rock, and I suppose I could do that – but I think it might be kind of dry! But this is a great story, and there's a lot of material in it for a sermon about God providing for his people in their times of greatest need, or for a sermon about God ensuring that his people would have everything they need for the journey of faith on which they're travelling. It would be easy enough to just talk about the miracle itself, but I've already done that with the children. I don't want you to forget the story, because it's important to what I'm going to be saying, but it's not really my focus today. You see, this particular miracle – as dramatic as it might have been – was just one in a series of miracles that are recorded in Exodus. It was just one of many things that God did for his people during these lean years in the wilderness. Miracle after miracle after miracle happens in the Book of Exodus. It's a book of miracles. The people who were with Moses had seen all of the marvelous things that God had done to free them from slavery in Egypt and then to keep them alive and safe and provided for in the desert. And, as we come to today's passage, what happened? The people got thirsty – and they complained. After all that God had done for them, they complained rather than trusted. And that's my focus for today – how difficult it is for God's people to truly trust God when the going gets tough.

     I'm not so much worried about this particular miracle, or for that matter on any or all of the miracles that took place in the desert. What I'm interested in is the response of God's people to the miraculous things they had seen taking place: momentary wonder and amazement which would quickly transform into out of control grumbling and rebellion. Why would that transformation take place so easily?You would think that after everything they had seen (after all the demonstrations of God's presence and power that had happened before them) that they would have learned to trust in God to care for them. But they hadn't learned that lesson at all. Which tells us that trust is a hard thing for us to offer to anyone – even God. In today's story, the people of God faced a hardship – and, yes, being in a desert with no water is a pretty serious hardship – and rather than trusting in God to see them through, they complained and they whined to the point at which Moses was convinced that they were about to kill him! The people acted not in trust, but in fear, and fear led them to irrational actions and threats.

     And this isn't just a problem that was restricted to the story of the exodus. We can easily put this into our own context. The story is simply about believers; those who believe in God. Many Christians have seen and felt very dramatically the power of God in their lives but, when push comes to shove and we face tough times and it's time to show trust, a lot of Christians can't do it. That's not a criticism. It's a reflection, I think, on the human condition. Real trust is hard – even for committed Christians – people who are church every week not out of a sense of duty or obligation, not because it's the right things to do, not because the church will close if enough people stop coming, but people who gather regularly to celebrate a joyous relationship with a living God; people whose lives have been touched and changed by the risen Christ. These would be today's equivalent to those who traveled with Moses through the desert: people who should know better; people who should know that God can be trusted. And yet, in that moment when something difficult happens, people who find trust tough. And, really, isn't that potentially all of us? And when tough times do hit – as they hit God's people in the desert, we do have a tendency to ask: why? Why isn't God providing? Why does God seem absent? We ask those things no matter how many times we've felt God intervene in our lives. And really – why doesn't God just swoop down and solve all our problems and make everything better? I've heard that as an objection to faith from a lot of people: if there's a loving God, why is there so much suffering. It's not a bad question.

     I wonder if the simple fact is that we're simply being taught something about self-sufficiency here, and about what's God's desire for us truly is. Think about our God-language for a moment. We call God “Father” sometimes. Some people call God “Mother.” The important thing is that we see God is what you might call parental terms. And if we really extend that to its logical outcome, isn't the goal of every parent to let their children make more and more decisions for themselves, even to the point of stepping back and letting them bail themselves out of their own problems? I mean, as much as you love your kids, you can't just constantly bail them out – because if you do, they never grow up; they never learn how to take care of themselves; they never become independent. Instead, they become spoiled. There's nothing more irritating than a spoiled adult! And I wonder if in the Exodus story, God's people hadn't become spoiled? They had seen these great, miraculous things happen over and over again – and so they expected them. Sure – if you're in the desert and you're out of water you're in a pretty desperate situation. But there are things you can try to do to solve the problem yourself. You could try to dig a well. You could send out scouting parties to locate any nearby oases. But according to Exodus, God's people didn't even try. They faced a problem, and they got hot under the collar. They got mad because God wasn't just taking the problem away, and they took out their frustrations on Moses – God's representative – to the extent that if God didn't miraculously provide them with water they were ready to stone him! They would sacrifice their relationship with God because in one case God had apparently expected them to do something for themselves.

     Now, if God had taken my parenting advice, God would have just let the people find the water all by themselves. But God doesn't take my advice – a fact for which the world should be eternally grateful. God gave the people water from a rock. Surely, after that demonstration of divine power, the people would be convinced and firmly committed to following God wherever God would lead them. Certainly they'd never turn away again. But if you're familiar at all with the stories of God's people wandering in the wilderness, then you'd know that the story of the golden calf isn't far off. Faced not with a real disaster, but with mere uncertainty (Moses had gone up the mountain and was sure taking a long time to come back, so something must have happened to him) the people would once again turn away from God to wantonness. It's a constant cycle. People complain, God gives, and some at least become so dependent on the displays of God's power (on the signs and wonders that some Christians are so fixated on) that if for whatever reason there are no overt displays of power, we forget that God is always with us.

     The ultimate message here is that faith can come in two varieties. There's a kind of faith that constantly wants, constantly asks, constantly demands, and constantly complains when God doesn't act in the ways we think God should act. This is a kind of faith that acknowledges God but wants us to really be in charge. That usually leads to tragedies – because it's a kind of faith that while it on the one hand acknowledges, on the other hand it dismisses God. An obvious example of that kind of faith in the world today I would suggest is the ISIS movement that's been so much in the news lately. It's not Christian, but it declares a belief in God and then acts in ways that the vast majority of Moslems would believe are abhorrent to God. And that can happen in Christianity as well. But there's a different kind of faith. It's one that trusts God, that's content to surrender it's own needs and desires and expectations, to simply wait on God and trust in God when God for whatever reason feels absent or when God doesn't seem to do exactly what we want God to do. This is a faith that understands that we have a few responsibilities of our own; that there are some things we have to do for ourselves if we want to claim a faith that's mature.

     No doubt life is a lot simpler if there's someone there who can take care of our every need. But those days pass, and there comes a point when we're expected to be able to look out for ourselves just a bit. A mature faith accepts the presence of trouble and is actually refined and strengthened by that trouble. A mature faith is a beautiful thing. It frees us from worry and it frees us from fear. It frees us to face the future, and it assures us that God is, indeed, there – maybe sometimes encouraging us and strengthening us to see the problems in the world around us, and to face them head on, rather than simply waiting for God to set it all right. That's what faith calls us to do. That's what grace empowers us to do. That's what God expects us to do.

A Thought For The Week Of September 22

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." (1 John 4:18) I don't fear God. Or perhaps it's more appropriate to say that I'm not afraid of God. And this verse helps me to understand why. I can understand why some people would be afraid of God. God is greater than we are, and the belief that our lives haven't measured up to God's standards could make us afraid of what God might do to us. Now, my life hasn't measured up to God's standards either. I understand that. But the basic message of this verse is so clear: if you really believe that God loves you, then why be afraid of God? Someone who loves you as much as God would never hurt you. So much of what people fear - and so much of faith in a loving God seems paradoxically based on fear - makes no sense to me. Hell. Eternal damnation. They make no sense at all in light of the gospel of love and grace. I simply don't believe that a God who loves as Jesus revealed divine love would condemn those he loves to eternal torment. Some would say I'm naive, or deceived, and engaging in wishful thinking. I say it's just logic. Faith can't be based on fear of God, because ultimately faith is based on love - God's love for us and our love for God. The Living Bible seems to explain this verse well: "If we are afraid, it is for fear of what he might do to us and shows that we are not fully convinced that he really loves us." I am fully convinced. I have no fear of what God might do to me. I hope you can say that same. God loves us, and there is no fear in love. Have a blessed week!

September 21 sermon: That Wasn't Quite What We Expected

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labour for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me. Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in the one Spirit, striving together as one for the faith of the gospel without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you. This is a sign to them that they will be destroyed, but that you will be saved—and that by God. For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him, since you are going through the same struggle you saw I had, and now hear that I still have.

(Philippians 1:21-30)

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     One of my favourite movies is “What About Bob.” It's a comedy – and in my opinion at least, one of the funniest movies ever. Richard Dreyfuss played Dr. Leo Marvin. Leo is a famous psychologist who's just published a book about a new therapy he's developed. Bill Murray played Bob Wylie, a troubled neurotic who's afraid of pretty much everything and who seeks out Leo for help. Bob becomes uncomfortably attached to Leo, and begins essentially stalking him – even travelling to be with him when Leo goes on vacation. Leo can't escape from him. One of the things I truly love about this movie is the great ending. After Leo spends the whole movie desperately trying to shake Bob off, in the last scene we discover that the roles have completely reversed. Bob becomes a famous psychologist and a published author celebrated for a new treatment he's developed (and getting married to Leo's sister to add insult to injury) while Leo has been reduced to an incoherent quivering mass of jelly totally unable to function. It's a gradual and brilliant evolution of the two characters, and it's not at all what you would have expected from either when the movie opened.

     And, in a way, that's what life is like, isn't it. Things don't always happen the way we expect them to happen. The candidate with the most votes doesn't always win the election. Just ask Al Gore about that. The smartest person doesn't always get the best grades. Although it's a myth that Einstein failed mathematics, it's true that he dropped out of high school, and only later gained a degree in physics after struggling to get accepted to university because of his lack of a high school diploma. And the best team doesn't always win the Stanley Cup. In 1938, the Chicago Black Hawks won only 14 of the 48 games they played in the regular season, but went on to beat Montreal, New York and Toronto in the playoffs and emerged as champions. And – as we all know – sometimes bad things happen to good people. Life doesn't always work out the way we expect it to. There was even someone who once said “the last shall be first.” Go figure that one out! I think that Paul had such things on his mind as he penned these verses in the letter he wrote to the church at Philippi.

     “... it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him, since you are going through the same struggle you saw I had, and now hear that I still have.” These words of Paul cut against the grain. Many people have a mindset that says that faith is a magic elixir that's supposed to make things better. I think that's especially the case among people who are new to the faith, because most people come to faith because of some sort of trial or challenge in their lives, and they believe that faith is – to an extent at least – the answer. And, obviously there's great comfort to be found in faith. I've felt it at various times over the years when faced with hardships; I hope all of you have felt it as well. But we still fall into the trap sometimes of looking at faith from a simple reward-punishment perspective. As long as things are good (or at least getting better) then faith works; otherwise, something's wrong, and maybe we should just give up on faith. But Paul isn't under that illusion. We aren't only to believe in Christ, he says, but to suffer for him – and both are gifts given by God. That's quite a gift, isn't it. It cuts against the grain, as I said. It doesn't seem to make sense. Suffering is not what we expect out of faith. 21st century culture goes to great lengths to make life more fun and fulfilling. We tend to admire people who succeed in life or who fulfil their dreams. Faith should help us do that. Right? I understand people thinking that way. After all, there aren't many role models for the idea that “dying is gain,” as Paul wrote at the beginning of today's passage. And let's face it – a lot of the best known Christians in the world today who come to represent what Christianity is about for a lot of people aren't suffering much. They have private jets and mansions and various and sundry other perks. I myself drive a 2005 Chevy Optra with almost 180000 kilometres on it. Let me tell you - it doesn't get much better than that! And some people think Christian faith should promise wealth and riches and success and health and prosperity of every kind. But that's a very secular way of looking at faith that buys into the idea that it's all about getting more and doing well and living the high and easy life. But where did Jesus ever say that? Where did Paul ever say that?

     Paul's context is important here. Most people believe that Paul wrote this letter while he was in prison in Rome, knowing that his imprisonment might lead to his death. So he had a unique perspective on this subject. He had given up everything to follow Jesus, and what was his reward? A prison cell and possible execution. The church at Philippi was a special community to Paul. He had a close relationship with them. They had probably heard of his plight. Perhaps they had begun to question the value of faith. If this could happen to Paul, perhaps they were asking – then what's the point? And Paul wants to encourage them. It's as if he's saying, “don't be surprised. This is what you should expect if you really belong to Christ.” But why? It's not what the Philippians expected. To add to their confusion, the Philippians themselves may have been starting to experience the first pangs of persecution, as the Roman Empire saw this movement beginning to grow and challenging the status quo.

     Now – there's the rub. They threatened the status quo. Jesus, Paul, the Philippians – all these nuisance Christians were threatening the status quo. We don't like the status quo being threatened. At least, those who benefit from the status quo don't like it, and even those who don't benefit from it at least find the familiar way of doing things comfortable and would often rather just be left alone. And, I believe, this is why Paul wanted the Philippians (and all Christians) to understand that faith wasn't always going to be a walk in the park. There were times when it would be a long and hard journey, because if we really take Jesus seriously, we're going to confront some of the same resistance from the strong and powerful that he encountered. You can't say to a society that the “last shall be first” and not expect some pushback from those who are first! I talked with the children about entry drafts in sports that were put in place to help the weaker teams by in theory at least letting them draft the best players available. It took the NHL until 1969 to actually implement a full entry draft system, though, because the stronger teams fought for a long time to maintain their hold on the best players. And that was just sports. Apply the principle to life in general. The powerful don't like those who stand against the status quo. Living by the principle “the last shall be first” and by many of the other teachings of Jesus helps us understand why “it has been granted to [us] on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him ...”

     There's a danger to this way of thinking. If we personalize what Paul says too much then we get into the trap of suggesting that people should just put up with suffering or abuse as if it's some sort of badge of honour to be an abused wife. That's not the point Paul's making, and I'm not suggesting that we should welcome or invite either suffering or persecution. This is on a bigger level than that of individuals. As a community, if we truly live by Jesus' standards, we'll invite notice – and some won't be happy with us. Listen to these words: “The last shall be first.” “The weak shall be strong.” “The meek shall inherit the earth.” “There is neither slave nor free.” In Luke 1, in Mary's Song – before Jesus was born – Mary said of God that “he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.” These are all radical and even revolutionary words. All the distinctions our society makes to differentiate between those on the top and those on the bottom are to be done away with. These principles do invite trouble if we live by them. It's no wonder why historically Christianity has always appealed most to the poor and outcast – and still does. If we truly live by the teachings of Jesus then who else would stand by the poor and the outcast more than Christians? And who else would expect to face opposition more than Christians?

     I'm not saying that we should invite suffering or persecution to come onto ourselves. But I am saying that we should be prepared as a community to take the risk of challenging the way things are, of holding up a vision where all people are treated as God's children, where all that divides is set aside, where we don't measure a person's value by the size of their bank account or by the make of car that they drive; a vision of a society in which all people are valued and respected and treated with dignity simply because they are loved by God. That will rub a few people the wrong way. It might even cause us a bit of trouble. And that may not be what the world has conditioned us to expect from faith; it might not be quite what we expected as people trying to live by God's desire. But we would be living like Jesus. So it might just be worth it.

A Thought For The Week Of September 15

"Jesus said to him, 'Away from me, Satan! For it is written: 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only''" (Matthew 4:10) Years ago I remember reading from an author (I don't remember who) that if Satan wasn't a real being then a good chunk of the New Testament isn't even understandable. Or something like that. At the time it made sense, and I've even preached on the reality of Satan. And I actually do believe that "Satan" is real. But my understanding of what "Satan" is has changed over the years - largely because of how "Satan" is portrayed in the Bible. I now see "Satan" as a metaphor for all those things that tempt us to forget God and go merrily on our own way. In some ways that makes "Satan" even more real and much more of a threat, because there are temptations and false gods and principalities and powers all around us that seek (often very creatively) to get us to serve them rather than to serve God. Some of these things even seem good. The church (as an institution) is one, for example. But they all (the church included) try to suck us into their service  rather than letting us focus on and discern what God is really calling us to. This verse is from the story of the temptation of Jesus. That's what "Satan" is to me now - anything that tempts me to forget God and just focus on my own needs or wants or desires. And, frankly, all too often I give in. Jesus' words sound simple and easy: worship God and serve only God. But in a world full of temptations and pressures that's hard to do. That's why grace - embodied in Jesus - is so important. Jesus was able to cast temptation away and focus on God's will. So I claim that grace that came from Jesus - from a place of perfect obedience - and I pray that faith will transform me into a disciple, who will walk more and more faithfully in the way of God. I pray that for us all. Have a great week!

September 14 sermon: Little Things Don't Have To Mean A Lot

Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters. One person’s faith allows them to eat anything, but another, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. The one who eats everything must not treat with contempt the one who does not, and the one who does not eat everything must not judge the one who does, for God has accepted them. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand. One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God. For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living. You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God’s judgment seat. It is written: “As surely as I live,” says the Lord, “every knee will bow before me; every tongue will acknowledge God.” So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.

(Romans 14:1-12)

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    “Little things mean a lot.” You've probably all heard those words somewhere along the way. The words actually come from a song that's been performed by a lot of fairly well known singers over the years. The best known version is perhaps from Willie Nelson. It includes the words:

Blow me a kiss from across the room

Say I look nice when I'm not

Touch my hair as you pass my chair

Little things mean a lot.

Give me your arm as we cross the street

Call me at six on the dot

A line a day when you're far away

Little things mean a lot.

     Little things do mean a lot. When Willie Nelson sang those words, they were a reference to positive things. We can make the people who are important in our lives feel pretty good by doing little things, like the things that are talked about in the song. Not every act of love has to be a big production in other words. But it's also true in a negative way. Sometimes – maybe most often – it's little things that cause the most trouble; seemingly unimportant things that for some reason take on a life of their own and become a big issue. When I served in Sundridge I once had the sister of a groom who for some reason had taken charge of the wedding hit the roof and scream at me in my own home because she didn't think that the liturgical colours that were in the church because of the time of year would be a good complement to the bridesmaids' wedding dresses. True story. Ask Lynn. She was there. She heard it. So, I've developed a theory. There are three kinds of church fights: there are fights that have to be won because they're over an issue so important that if I don't get my way I just can't in good conscience stay; there are fights that have to be fought, because they're over meaningful issues and I think my opinion has to be made known but I can live with not getting my way. But then there's the third kind – there are fights that shouldn't be fought. They're over issues of no real significance. Maybe we have strong opinions, but in the overall scheme of things they just don't matter. In my experience, 90% of church fights I've seen over the 20+ years I've been in ministry probably fall into that category. Sure, little things mean a lot. But they don't have to mean a lot. Sometimes they're better off being ignored.

     Last week I was speaking about the importance of the community in making sure that we work together to resolve problems before they become big issues. Here's a practical example of a church with  a problem, and Paul's thinking about how to look at and resolve the problem. This passage seems to suggest that the problem in Rome is that some people are vegetarians and some aren't. We look at that and think – so what? But that's what's going on here.  At its core, the issue here is each group setting itself over and above the other group, claiming the high moral ground for its particular practices and opinions. On one side are the vegetarians and on the other are people who will eat anything, with each side apparently sneering judgmentally at the other about their behaviour.  The meat eaters say the vegetarians are weak; the vegetarians say the meat eaters are sinners. You know what? It's hard to praise God when you're busy passing judgement on everybody else over little things. And what Paul is trying to say is that in the life of the church, what really matters aren't little matters of spiritual or religious practice (and maybe not even weightier matters of doctrine.) What matters most is the relationship between God and believers. Paul saw himself as one of the meat-eaters. It was they who he saw as strong in the faith, because they realized that they could eat anything, while the vegetarians weren't vegetarians out of health or dietary reasons, but because the meat had likely come from pagan animal sacrifices. Their faith was weak because they didn't realize that in the face of Christ, pagan idols were nothing and so even if the animal had been sacrificed to a pagan idol, it didn't matter. Christians could still eat it. So Paul's advice was directed to the meat-eaters: don't look down on someone because you think their faith isn't as strong as yours; or just because you're convinced that you're right and they're wrong. Make room for the person whose faith is expressed differently than yours.

     Situations like this one in Rome still happen all over the place in the Christian world. It might not be vegetarian vs. meat-eaters. I suspect no one would care if at the next church potluck a few people brought vegetarian dishes. But there are other little things that divide people in various churches. Wafers vs. bread for Communion. Or wine vs. grape juice for Communion. Or should we come forward for Communion or should Communion be brought to us? How about contemporary music vs. traditional music. Now there's one! Or should we read from the NIV or the NRSV? And there's still a few King James only folks in the English speaking Christian world! Should we baptize babies or only adults? Should we just sprinkle or should we fully immerse? And who should we be willing to marry anyway? There's one that's still controversial. And all those disputes shine the light on exactly the wrong place. They put the spotlight on us and on our views and our opinions. But you know what? This is the church. Where's the spotlight supposed to be? Who's the spotlight supposed to be on? Paul's pretty clear about that too.

     God is the centre of everything. “God has accepted them ...” “... the Lord is able to make them stand.” “Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God.” “If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.” “As surely as I live,” says the Lord, “every knee will bow before me; every tongue will acknowledge God.” The point seems to be that where people are striving to honour God with their actions and practices (even if you do things in a different way) you accept them.

     There's a story about Ruth Graham – Billy Graham's wife. Dressed and made up as most American women in the 1970s would have been, she attended a luncheon with wives of pastors in Germany. These German Christians had more conservative ideas about how women should look. They didn't believe that a married Christian woman should wear makeup or clothing that made them look too worldly, and one German pastor's wife, sitting across from Ruth, became very upset. She thought it was shameful that the wife of this famous evangelist looked so worldly. Ruth Graham was even wearing mascara! The German pastor's wife became so angry that she started crying right over the beer she was drinking. Meanwhile Ruth Graham couldn't understand why the woman was crying, but it sure bothered her that a self-respecting pastor's wife was drinking beer at a meeting that was supposed to bring Christians together as the unified body of Christ.

     Sometimes we all get caught up with the little things. And – yeah – little things mean a lot. But the point is they don't have to mean a lot. Not all the time anyway. Sometimes it's better to focus on the big thing – God, revealed by Jesus.

A Thought For The Week Of September 8

"When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, 'Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.'" (Luke 19:5) The story of Zacchaeus is a bit obscure. Just a few verses, and Zacchaeus never gets mentioned again. Which seems unusual. But it's an important story. It's an example of Jesus choosing to associate with someone whom society would have looked down upon. Zacchaeus was a tax collector - he worked for the Romans; he was a collaborator, and probably despised as a result. Most people would likely have had nothing to do with him. But Jesus reached out to him in an interesting way. It's not an invitation to Zacchaeus to come to him - he invites himself into Zacchaeus' home! "I must stay at your house today." That's rather bold of Jesus. But it worked. Zacchaeus was thrilled. First, that Jesus saw him; second, that Jesus welcomed him; third, that Jesus would enter his home in spite of the controversy that he must have known it would cause. I see here some interesting parallels to my own journey of faith. I'm not sure I was ever looking for Jesus to make himself at home with me. But he did. I know where that has led me, but one of the mysteries of the story is that we don't know what happened to Zacchaeus. Did the thrill last forever? Did it change his life? Was he simply satisfied with the feeling of acceptance he got from this man Jesus? We know nothing about Zacchaeus' future - and maybe that's the point. The appearance of Jesus in our causes causes each of us to respond in different ways - from wholehearted acceptance to passionate rejection. But either way it's a response to Jesus. And Jesus keeps appearing and keeps asking himself into our lives when we start to wander off. How are we going to respond to him? I hope with faith and with trust. Have a great week!

September 7 sermon - Why The Church Family Matters

“If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

(Matthew 18:15-20)

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     It was in some ways an innocuous comment made as a post in a Facebook group of ministers that I belong to. The subject under discussion was the concept of the church as a family. That's an image which to me is very important. I think it says something about both our relationship with God and our relationship with each other. I think it teaches us something about how to live our lives of faith together. It also helps to explain both the strengths and the weaknesses of the church as a whole and of individual churches, because – let's face it – just as families can be healthy or unhealthy, functional or dysfunctional, so can churches be all of those things. “Family” - I believe – is an important image for the church. So I was a bit troubled by some of the comments that were being made. One person – whom I know a little bit – said that we have to be very careful with the image of the church as a family and we have to remember that the connection isn't by blood. Well, “blood” isn't necessarily what defines a family. As an adoptive parent I know that very well. But it was someone else's comment that bothered me most. It was from a person I went to theological college with but haven't seen since I graduated more than 20 years ago now. She said, with no hesitation, “we are not a family.” And I thought - “that must create a warm and happy and caring environment, when the minister states flat out that 'we are not a family.'” To me it was sad, and ever since I took part in that discussion, I've been reflecting upon the image of the church as a family and what it means and why it's important. Because it is.

     This passage from Matthew doesn't specifically use the language of family to speak about the church, but it does speak about the relationships we have within the church and how those relationships are supposed to be conducted. And, to me anyway, our relationships within this community are always conducted within the context of a Christian family. Families are complex things. Some are closer than others; and within families some family members are closer than other family members. Within families, there's a sense of connection and belonging – sometimes whether you want it or not! Our families give us the basis for how we identify ourselves. Within families there's usually a lot of love – and the reality of that means that there can also be flareups, and I've known family fights that turn into very long-lasting and unpleasant situations because when we feel let down by the people we also feel we should be closest to, it's difficult to let go of. Church fights are a lot like that as well. Church fights can easily get out of hand, because we know what this community is supposed to be about. We know we're supposed to love one another and serve one another and support one another and encourage one another. And when we fail to do that – when we choose instead to judge or criticize or attack; when we inadvertently hurt someone by a thoughtless word or a careless act or an inadvertent slight – then the community – the church family – is battered and bruised. And the unfortunate reality is that even though this is the church and even though we're followers of Jesus – every now and then we slip up and we say or do things we shouldn't do or we forget to do something we should do, and the hurt that gets caused can be devastating, and it can take a long time to heal – if it ever really heals. And we all have the potential to be a part of the problem. As Eric Barretto (a New Testament scholar) wrote, 

“ We are rather expert at spotting those rabble rousers around us, identifying their destructive habits, and condemning the ways they seek to destabilize our communities. Noticing when we are engaged in these very same behaviours is another story. After all, some of those troublesome people are us.”

     And as a community and as a family, when things happen that are destructive of the community, we have to pull together and find a way out. I believe that's what this passage from Matthew's Gospel is telling us to do.

     Was Jesus really intending to give his disciples a step by step manual for conflict resolution? I don't think so. What I do think Jesus was trying to do was instill in his disciples' hearts the importance of their being true community between different people who – in spite of their differences – could all agree that they were children of God, and, therefore, family to each other. Jesus, I think, expected that there would be differences and divisions and conflicts within the family. Jesus said, “truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.” Most people take that out of context. They don't look at the setting Jesus speaks those words in. It's in the context of talking about how to deal with divisions in the church. If you read those words in that context, it's actually a rather sobering verse. It sounds less like Jesus saying with authority “if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.” Instead, it sounds like Jesus wistfully saying, “if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.” Do you see the difference the emphasis makes? The way I've come to read this, it's Jesus lamenting that it was going to be hard for his band of disciples (whether the 12 he had at that moment or the billions he's had since) to find even two who could be in complete agreement on anything. Which is kind of sad when you think about it. But I suspect it's true. It's both a strength and a weakness of the Christian faith. It makes Christianity more approachable for some people because they have the freedom to explore and think and pray and come to their own conclusions. But it also means that because we then have to live in relationship with those with whom we disagree our positions can become entrenched and we can become far too convinced that we're right and everybody else better shape up or ship out, so to speak.

     The point of the passage is clear, and it isn't the specific step by step details that matter – that's being far too literalistic. What Jesus is telling us is that we need to work together as a community to ensure the health and well being of the community. Problems have to be dealt with. Disagreements have to be acknowledged. Conflict needs to be addressed. As children of God – all of us a part of the family of God – we're called by Jesus to work together to keep the family healthy. It's love that  requires that we address the challenges that sometimes arise within the family unit. It's not enough to sweep them under the rug. That just allows the pressure to build and eventually blow up, and that makes even a Christian community unable to function as God calls us to. The first Sunday of September is traditionally looked on as the start of the church year. Lots is going to happen over the next few months. And, as in all families, from time to time were going to have disagreements. We need to remember to work together as a community and to be able to resolve differences when they arise without making anyone else in the community feel put down.

     I suppose that ultimately it comes down to forgiveness. Are we willing to forgive each other when the need arises. If we aren't, then what Jesus is saying seems true – the only option is separation. Somebody's gotta go! But we don't want it to come to that. We never want it to come to that. Forgiveness is the key in any family's life. Nelson Mandela said that “forgiveness liberates the soul. It removes fear. That is why it is such a powerful weapon.” Forgiveness changes everything. And that's what we work toward – and we work toward it together. Within the family, no problem ever involves just two people – it involves everyone. And everyone needs to work together to make things right. That's what families do – even the family of God.

I've Been Thinking About Evangelism

My column for the In Port News, to be published September 12, 2014:

It's a dirty word to a lot of people. Even to a lot of Christians it's a dirty word. “Evangelism.” I think we shy away from it so much because of some of the excesses we see among many of the better known “evangelists.” Let's just say that I shy away from some of those as well. I've always believed as a Christian that our model in everything is to be Jesus. And what I see from Jesus (and from those who he had the change to engage with directly) is a kind of evangelism that's a lot different from our usual image today.

For some reason in recent weeks the story of Jesus encountering the Samaritan woman at the well has been coming to me a lot. I'm not sure why, but I've found that the Holy Spirit works that way. Some things just keep coming up for no obvious reason. It's God trying to get our attention perhaps. This morning I read that story over again and realized what a wonderful teaching passage it is to help us understand evangelism better. There's two examples of evangelism in the story, which is recorded in John 4. One type of evangelism is shown by Jesus himself; the other type is demonstrated by the woman herself. They're different approaches, but what they have in common is that neither resembles at all what we commonly think of today as evangelism.

Jesus doesn't even begin the encounter by talking about God or faith. The woman is at a well drawing water, so Jesus starts by talking about something the woman is well able to understand – the important of water. He needed water at that moment; he asked the woman to help him. Lesson 1: the evangelist can be as blessed by the evangelized as the reverse. We need to approach evangelistic opportunities ourselves with open hearts and minds. And Jesus didn't try to force anything on the woman. There were no threats; no statements of “you have to believe this or that or else.” After a bit of conversation, he simply got her attention by asking her if she would like living water that would satisfy her forever. And that provided an opening for Jesus to go deeper. And the woman was amazed. Jesus' evangelistic technique got her attention. And it pushed the woman to engage in her own evangelism.

She ran and talked to the people she knew about Jesus. Like Jesus, she doesn't seem to have forced anything on anyone. She simply explained what she had experienced. Jesus had touched her deeply, and people were amazed and curious. They wanted to experience this for themselves. That's also evangelism. We don't really have to tell people what to believe or convince them of anything. We invite people to experience Jesus. After all, we're not the ones who are going to “convert” anyone. That's the Holy Spirit's doing. We just want to invite people to experience Jesus – through the Scriptures, through the church, through our personal testimonies. That's evangelism too.

It's an important topic at this time of year. Most churches are shaking off the summer doldrums and getting things up and running again. And we have a lot of good news to share. If we pay attention to this story, we might learn how to share it better. Not by being pushy; not by threatening people with what will happen if they don't believe as we believe. Just by inviting them into the experience. That's what the Samaritan woman did: “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could he be the Messiah?” It's what Jesus did. He found a connection that the woman could relate to – and he invited her into the experience rather than trying to force anything upon her.

Evangelism isn't a dirty word, and it's not hard to do. We have two great examples from this story of how to do it.