Sunday 30 November 2014

November 30 sermon: Signs Of The Season

 “But in those days, following that distress, ‘the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’ At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch. Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back - whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”
(Mark 13:24-37)

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     Last Monday night was quite a night. I’m sure you all remember the wind storm. Yeah. It was quite a night. In the midst of it I had to go out to Food Basics to pick up a couple of things we had run short on. Much to my surprise, as I turned into the parking lot I had to suddenly swerve - to miss a tree! Food Basics already has their Christmas trees out as you may have noticed, and on that particular night, one had actually been blown right off the sidewalk and into the parking lot! We’re talking about a tree! Yes - a Christmas tree, so it wasn’t a giant oak planted in the ground, but still - it was a tree! Blowing around the parking lot! You never know what to expect. It did, however, remind me of the power of the Holy Spirit - a sometimes unexpected and always uncontrollable power. The word we translate as “Spirit” means - in both Hebrew and Greek - “wind” or “breath.” So when the wind blows and howls, it always reminds me of how God’s Spirit is always present, and always working to bring God’s plans into effect. The wind is a sign of the presence of God.

     And this is the time of year when we start to look for signs - although most of us probably don’t look for the right signs. We start to think about the signs of Christmas. Actually, we start to see the signs of Christmas long before this. I’ve seen ads for Christmas music CDs in the United Church Observer as early as September, and I do remember seeing artificial Christmas trees on sale in Costco in August. But the signs of the approach of Christmas start to multiply around this time of year. We see trees in parking lots; we see lights on houses; see see ads on TVs - and the Christmas specials aren’t going to be too far behind them. Signs of Christmas are all around us. And it’s wonderful - but, sometimes I wonder, what ever happened to Advent?

     You remember Advent. It began today. I think that the church has become so inundated with the surrounding culture that many Christians just think of Advent as another sign that Christmas is on the horizon. But that’s really not it. Advent and its symbols are a sign - but not a sign of Christmas. Advent points us ahead to what you might call: “the end.” That has an ominous sound to it - and we’ll think about the concept a bit next week with a very typical Advent reading that will surely remind us that Advent isn’t about the warm fuzzies of getting ready to welcome a baby in a manger. Advent is a sign of the end - but not in an ominous sense. As Christians, we take the season of Advent to reflect on what will be the ultimate fulfilment of God’s plan; the ultimate establishment of God’s Kingdom. Perhaps we forget that our entire faith is based on providing hope to the world that for all the pain and suffering, for all the turmoil and chaos, for all the war and violence - God has a better way for us, and God’s better way will one day be established. Advent kicks off the church’s liturgical year. It’s the beginning - and the beginning points us not to Christmas, but to the end.

     Jesus understood the importance of signs. In today’s Gospel reading, for example: “when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door.” The “things” he was talking about I suppose are the words of the prophet Joel, that he quoted just before: “‘the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’” Honestly - I don’t know what to make of that, except that both Joel and Jesus seem to have expected something very dramatic to occur that would signify the establishment of God’s reign on earth. Watch for it; wait for it; be ready for it, Jesus seems to be saying.

     I’m not sure about the sun being darkened, or the moon refusing to shine, or the stars falling from the sky or the heavenly bodies being shaken. My discernment tells me that we’re not supposed to take this literally, but just as Jesus’ (and Joel’s) way of saying that the establishment of God’s reign will be accompanied by dramatic signs that won’t and can’t be missed. But - all the dramatic signs aside - I do find myself wondering if there aren’t supposed to be a few signs right now that are less dramatic, perhaps - but in some ways just as powerful - and I wonder if it’s these less dramatic signs that the season of Advent is challenging us to reveal to the world? Think of the primary symbol of Advent - the wreath, with its five candles: representing love, hope, joy, peace and, of course, Christ. Are these not the very things that we as followers of Jesus can take to the world, share with the world and use to point the world toward the God who wants such signs shared? What I’m saying is - is it not WE who are supposed to be the signs of the season? Not the season of Advent or the season of Christmas - but what you might call the season of God, whose presence is made obvious to us by that mighty wind that sometimes roars around us or by that gentle breeze that sometimes just brushes over us.  Are we not supposed to be the signs of God’s presence in the world?  The living out of love, peace, joy and hope? The ones who offer love, peace, joy and hope to the world? The ones who make sure that others know that our God is a God of love, peace, joy and hope? Is it not we who are supposed to be the embodiment of Jesus? And by living in ways that do that - are we not then the signs; the ones who point others to God?

     Maybe we get the wrong idea when we talk about signs. Maybe the signs aren’t just those things that point us to the promise of God’s Kingdom; maybe we’re the signs who are to point others to the presence of God.

Monday 24 November 2014

A Thought For The Week Of November 24

"... his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night." (Psalm 1:2) That's an important thought about the law of God, and as I think about it, it transcends the polar opposites that so many perceive between the Old and New Testaments, or between law and grace. What really interests me is that Gin Psalm 1 God's people are never instructed that they must follow the law, or threatened with punishment if they can't. Perhaps there's a recognition here that the law of God can't be fully obeyed no matter how hard we try. But if that's true, then what is the relationship of God's people to God's law? The Psalm tells us that we're to delight in the law and to meditate on it day and night. To paraphrase, we're to recognize that the law is something good and positive  and that it isn't to be feared. We're to pay attention to the law, study it and learn from it - presumably learning from it about God's nature and God's will. I'd say that was the example set by Jesus. He didn't just take the words on the page and apply them letter by letter. He understood that the words on the page had a deeper and richer meaning - what I sometimes refer to as the spirit of the law rather than the letter of the law. Focused on the law, what Jesus nevertheless taught about God was far from the image of a tyrannical God looking for disobedience as an excuse to punish. Jesus saw love in the law. Jesus saw mercy in the law. So love and mercy aren't simply Christian concepts. They have their origins in the Old Testament portrayal of God - and in the very law of God that can seem so harsh. That's what we learn as we meditate upon the law day and night, as Psalm 1 says - as we take the law seriously and study it, mining it for ever deeper revelations about God. Have a great week!

November 23 sermon: Why We Serve Who We Serve

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’ Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
(Matthew 25:31-46)

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    Judgment is a hard thing to deal with from a Christian perspective. It’s hard for the most part because even most Christians I think struggle to understand the basis on which God judges - and, please remember that it’s always God who judges, and it’s never us. One of the great problems with people’s understanding of Christianity I think is the whole concept of reward and punishment. For some people, that’s the whole basis of faith: be good and you’ll get rewarded, be bad and you’ll get punished. The good ones will go to heaven with God and the bad ones will go to the other place with … well … you know who. I can understand why people latch on to that idea. It makes things rather simple doesn’t it. Just be good. Of course, we have to take some time to figure out what “being good” actually looks like. But is it all just about reward and punishment? Is our faith just about getting one and avoiding the other? Is that it? Nothing more? There’s no doubt that you could take Jesus’ words in this parable, for example, and make faith about just that. “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” And I’m impressed by Jesus’ understanding of human nature here - because the ones being punished are always “they.” The basic problem with that understanding of faith is that it turns faith into a selfish thing - basically, we either turn to faith to get a reward or to avoid a punishment. It makes our faith all about us. Which is exactly where our focus should never be.

    If you read this parable, and put it in the context of all of Jesus’ teachings (and not just the last few words here) you get a different perspective than if you take this in its very narrow context. In this passage - looked at in the light of everything Jesus taught, and not just these few words - Jesus is talking about adopting a certain worldview; a certain way of life - and it’s not one that’s motivated out of either the fear of hell or the hope of heaven. Instead, it’s a life that’s motivated by an authentic love. For Jesus, showing compassion and mercy and love to those around you on a day by day basis seems so much more important than believing a certain set of doctrines; more important even than simply living a good life. This passage actually says something fascinating about judgment: it’s not based, according to this at least, on whether we believe all the right things or whether we do all the proper things to or for Jesus. The point of the parable seems to be that of course we’d do all the right things for Jesus - if we knew that it was Jesus. But Jesus is making the point here that he shows up in the most unexpected places and at the most unexpected times and through the most unexpected people - and the mark of our faith is how we respond to him when we don’t even realize that he’s there! The basis of judgment is apparently whether we act toward others the way we claim to act toward Jesus; if we love the poor and marginalized and outcast and dispossessed and all those who are tossed aside by society with the same love that we claim to have for Jesus. There’s the issue.

    I know a lot of Christians who take a remarkably negative view of good works. They come from an impressive lineage. After all, it was Martin Luther who thought the Book of James should be removed from the New Testament because it put too much emphasis on works. And I understand the objection. Works can’t save us because we can never do enough “works” to repay the God who has done and given everything for us. So we depend on grace; we believe in grace because of our faith. But let’s not toss aside works too quickly. They may not save us - but they may well be the sign of God being present and active in us; they may well be the sign of our openness to God and God’s ways. Luther might not like the book, but let’s not forget the words of James: “faith without works is dead.” And a dead faith isn’t much use to anybody. So our faith is shown and the judgment of God is based not merely on our piety in upholding the right doctrines and practicing the right rituals, but more importantly our faith is shown and God’s judgment of us is based on our willingness to do the right things for the lowest of our society.

     We don’t serve those in need because we get a reward for it - we serve those in need because it’s the right thing to do. John Wesley wrote that “supposing [good works] to spring from a right principle, they are the perfection of religion.” In fact, rather than seeking God’s approval or seeking reward for doing these things, we should be prepared to sacrifice in order to serve. Maybe we’d content ourselves by thinking that because we give to the local food bank, we’ve done our bit; we’ve helped to feed the hungry. But it’s easy to do a minimal amount of “good” without really giving up too much of ourselves in the process. My doctoral advisor, Gennifer Brooks, wrote this about the parable we’ve looked at today: “it is important that we focus on the notion of self-giving love, even self-sacrificing love that is represented in these actions. Christ calls us to love wholeheartedly - love God with heart, soul and mind, and love neighbor as self.” And, as we love in such a way, we ultimately find that we haven’t only loved those we’ve reached out to, we’ve actually loved Jesus, who spent so much of his own ministry among the poor and needy and outcast whom society looked down on. That’s why Jesus said that when you do these things (or when you fail to do them) you’ve done them for him, or you’ve failed him.

    You see, Jesus is always revealed to us primarily through the needs others, but too often we don’t realize it. In 1995, Joan Osborne wrote the song “One of Us.” The lyrics seem appropriate in the light of this parable. Among other things, they say:

What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us.
Just a stranger on the bus.

What if? Would we recognize God if that were the case? In the parable, both the sheep and the goats were surprised because they hadn’t recognized him. The sheep were doing what they were doing because they simply knew they had to do it. For them, there was a heart that had turned toward compassion and generosity. The goats, on the other hand, chose not to serve because I guess they didn’t think Jesus would be in such places and so he wouldn’t care. But what’s interesting is that both were surprised to discover - if I can put it this way - where and with whom Jesus chooses to hang out. People don’t really expect to see Jesus in the face of the disadvantaged or the poor or the imprisoned, or any of those who suffer great need. Maybe that’s understandable. When we think of God, we typically think in terms of power and might and glory and all the rest. But the whole point of the parable seems to be to undermine our tendency to look for God in places of power and prestige - and maybe that undermining might help us all to discover God’s presence in our lives more fully than we ever have. Maybe, if we want to experience God’s presence most fully, most deeply and most truly, we should look for God in need - in the need of those around us and even in our own times of need rather than simply looking for God in blessings. That understanding challenges the whole reward-punishment concept of faith.

    So, with Advent almost upon us just one week away, and with Christmas not far off, and with a new year beckoning when so many of us are going to commit ourselves to going deeper with God (because for Christians that’s a common New Year’s Resolution) let me give you a challenge: use all the holiday gratitude and thankfulness and joy and love that we speak of and sign about and feel at this time of year to seek out and serve the ones who find gratitude and thankfulness and joy and love difficult - and do it all year round. If you do that, you just might discover Jesus anew!

Monday 17 November 2014

A Thought For The Week Of November 17

"But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15) It's always about choices, isn't it. One of the things about a God who gives us free will is that we get to choose essentially everything - including what "god" we choose to follow. I suppose the only exception to that is that we don't get to choose our own eternal fate. Eternity belongs to God, so that we leave to God. But everything else we choose. Including what "god" we follow. I'm not equating that with what religion we follow. I'm not at all sure how God feels about religion. I am sure that God wants us to live in love. So, to some extent, we show what "god" we've chosen by whether or not we choose to live in love. Or do we choose as our "god" things that make us hateful or self-centred, unconcerned with those around us. I sour focus only on our own wants and our own desires and our own pleasures, and do we set ourselves to taking care of those things, no matter what we have to do to others to achieve them? Sadly, I suspect we do that far too often. If you're a person of sincere faith it's no different. You're still constantly tempted to satisfy yourself  rather than to serve God by serving others. That's why Joshua's question is such a good one. And, although it sounds like it in this passage, the question can't just be a one time thing - asked and answered and done with - because the temptation to serve myself (and, really, aren't "I" always the other “god” I might choose to serve?) is always there. So, I ask this day, whom will I serve? This day. And every day. I have to keep asking that question, and I have to keep re-committing myself to the answer - "as for me ... I will serve the Lord." Have a great week!

November 16 sermon: As Light's Children

Now, brothers and sisters, we do not need to write you about times and dates. You know very well that the day the Lord comes again will be a surprise, like a thief that comes in the night. While people are saying, “We have peace and we are safe,” they will be destroyed quickly. It is like pains that come quickly to a woman having a baby. Those people will not escape. But you, brothers and sisters, are not living in darkness, and so that day will not surprise you like a thief. You are all people who belong to the light and to the day. We do not belong to the night or to darkness. So we should not be like other people who are sleeping, but we should be alert and have self-control. Those who sleep, sleep at night. Those who get drunk, get drunk at night. But we belong to the day, so we should control ourselves. We should wear faith and love to protect us, and the hope of salvation should be our helmet. God did not choose us to suffer his anger but to have salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus died for us so that we can live together with him, whether we are alive or dead when he comes. So encourage each other and give each other strength, just as you are doing now.
(1 Thessalonians 5:1-11)

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     The imagery is pretty familiar: light. From the beginning of the Bible to the end of the Bible the imagery is there, present, all around, all the time. Light. It was the first thing created. “Let there be light,” God said. And there was light. As the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, God was a pillar of fire before them at night to give them light. Psalm 18 tells us that God turns all our darkness into light, and Psalm 76 affirms for us that God is “radiant with light.” Jesus calls himself the light of the world (a light that John’s Gospel tells us “shines in the darkness” and cannot be overcome) and then Jesus turns around and surprises us by calling us the light of the world! And Proverbs 13 tells us that “the light of the righteous shines brightly,” so that, through us, “the people walking in darkness [will see] a great light.” After all, as Jesus said, we are to “let [our[ light shine before others.” As I said, the Bible is full of references to light as an image of God and as an image for our faith. And, to me, one of the more intriguing things the Bible has to say about our relationship to light comes from Paul’s words that we read this morning from 1 Thessalonians: “You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness.” Why do I find that so intriguing? Because it puts a slightly different spin on the image. No longer are we referred to as light, but as  “children of light.” We’re fairly used to being called children of God, but I started to think about this phrase “children of light,” and I wondered - is it just another way of saying that we’re children of God? Is it the same thing? Or does it suggest something different still? What does it mean to be a “child of light?”

     As I reflected on that imagery I found myself thinking about family of origin issues. It’s a simple concept: everyone has a family of origin. We all have in our past the people who shaped us and influenced us, and in many cases we become a reflection of that family of origin. Sometimes it’s for the better and sometimes it’s for the worse. After all, there are healthy families and there are unhealthy families and there are dysfunctional families and there are abusive families. Not all families of origin are positive - but all of us are products of our upbringings; products of all our experiences; influenced to some extent by all those who have in some way or another, big or small, touched our lives. As people of faith, we understand that we’re bound together by a common family of origin, and the family tree if you will are all the Christians who have touched us and influenced us. The historical record of our family is the Bible. Ultimately, as people of faith, the one we’ve been touched by most powerfully (I hope) is God revealed in Jesus. We call ourselves children of God; we’re also children of light - light being the first thing God called into existence; light being wisdom; light being knowledge of God and of God’s ways. And we’re touched by that spiritual family of origin; influenced in a certain direction by the God who called us into being and who called us to faith. We’re children of the light - descendants in a way of that first created thing.

     What was going on in Thessalonica that Paul felt it was necessary to remind the Thessalonians Christians of their calling. I touched on it a bit last week. The Thessalonians (like many early Christians) were expecting the return of Christ in their own lifetime. And it hadn’t happened, and time was moving on, and people were beginning to wonder. Should we continue to wait. or should we give up on this and go back to our old ways before we knew Christ? And Paul’s instruction was that they should remember to live as children of light - always prepared, always observant, always watching and always watchful. Always believing that something better was coming. But Paul said that they were not just to be children of light; they were also to be children of the day. As children of light, Christians are to be watchful and prepared; as children of the day, Christians are to be aware that we’re being watched - we can’t hide in the darkness and live as if our faith makes no difference, because that will dishonour the Christ in whom we place our hope. We have to live this faith - not sit back and do nothing because Jesus will come back to set everything straight, and not give up because things aren’t being set straight fast enough to suit us. We are children of light and children of the day.

     As children of light, who have come to understand the ways of God, we have to reflect the ways of God - just as our human family of origin makes us to some extent a reflection of our upbringing. Sometimes, in some cases, our spiritual family of origin has to overcome our human family of origin and set us on the right track, sometimes our spiritual family of origin just re-inforces what we’ve been brought up to believe and how we’ve been brought up to live. But as children of light and children of the day, we’re called to witness to the call of God and to reflect the way of Jesus to the world.

     The way of Jesus is what brings light to those who walk in darkness of any kind: the darkness of sin, the darkness of loneliness, the darkness of grief, the darkness of abuse or violence, the darkness of rejection, the darkness of hatred or racism, the darkness of anything that tries to tell someone that they’re less important, less significant, less valuable and less loved by God than others. That’s the light Jesus brought to the lives of those he encountered. As children of light, we reflect that light into the dark corners of the world and the dark places in the lives of those we encounter.

     It’s a bit simplistic, but I’ve heard Christians be compared to the moon. The brightest full moon shining on a pitch black night nevertheless has no light of its own. It only reflects the light of the sun back toward us. That’s what we do. We reflect the light of God back wherever we find darkness, and we live by it - believing that the way of Jesus will one day be the way of the world. Meanwhile, we wait, we watch, we witness, and we work - all as children of the light of God.

Friday 14 November 2014

Amazing Grace

Sometimes you get big surprises from the most common things. For example: Amazing Grace. I did a funeral this morning, and this hymn was requested. That's not a surprise. Amazing Grace is pretty commonly used at funerals. But in addition to the usual verses, there was this one, that I had never heard before:



The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun refuse to shine,
But God, Who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

I've never heard that verse before, but apparently they're from the original version, printed in 1779 in Olney Hymns.

I knew of course that what is often used as the last of the verses of Amazing Grace:

When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we'd first begun.

is a later addition to the hymn, written by an anonymous author. I still like that verse, especially for funerals, because it's the verse that, to me, speaks most powerfully of eternity.

In any event, today meant the discovery of a seven verse version of Amazing Grace. The longest I'd ever heard before was six verses.

It's a wonderful hymn, made especially wonderful by the powerful conversion story of its author, John Newton - the former slave ship captain turned abolitionist and Anglican priest.

Here are the original words (all SIX) verses, printed in Olney Hymns in 1779:


      Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
      That saved a wretch like me!
      I once was lost, hut now am found,
      Was blind, but now I see.

      'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
      And grace my fears relieved;
      How precious did that grace appear,
      The hour I first believed!

      Through many dangers, toils and snares,
      I have already come;
      'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
      And grace will lead me home.

      The LORD has promised good to me,
      His word my hope secures;
      He will my shield and portion be,
      As long as life endures.

      Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
      And mortal life shall cease,
      I shall possess, within the veil,
      A life of joy and peace.

      The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
      The sun forbear to shine;
      But GOD, who called me here below,
      Will be for ever mine.




Monday 10 November 2014

A Thought For The Week Of November 10

“A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.” (Luke 10:31) Maybe it's an occupational hazard, but when I read the parable of the Good Samaritan my focus tends to go to neither the Good Samaritan nor to the beaten man in the ditch. I think about the priest who passed by and did nothing to help. I think of how easy it is to get consumed by religious and vocational duty and to forget that being a disciple of Jesus  means to do the will of God and the work of Christ - and that these things aren't always the same as what we perceive our "religious duty) to be, whether we're clergy or lay people. But it is so tempting to set aside the will of God and the work of Christ and to busy ourselves with "duty, because our “duties” seem so immediate and so important. And so I feel some empathy for the priest in the parable - torn between doing the will of God and doing his religious duty. I know how easy it is to be tempted. I once faced an almost identical situation, in Newfoundland almost 20 years ago. I was on my way to church to do a morning service and I came across a man lying unconscious in the road. Should I stop to try to help? There were a couple of others who had stopped, and I had a service to conduct - a religious and vocational duty to perform; church work to do! The dilemma was real. In the end I overcame the temptation and I stopped and I stayed until the ambulance came, offering as much comfort as I could under the circumstances, and I was able to find a nearby phone to call ahead and say that I wouldn’t make it to church for the service. Strangely, the church survived. I’m not glorifying myself. The temptation to just drive by and let someone else handle the situation was very powerful and I could easily have made that choice. There are times when we believe that God is satisfied with us if we just perform our religious duties - showing up at church, serving on a committee. Those things take time. Surely that’s all God expects of us. But I’m sure that what God really wants from us is to see us demonstrating love, mercy and compassion. When doing our religious duty conflicts with showing love, mercy and compassion, the latter has to win out. Have a great week.

Sunday 9 November 2014

November 9 sermon: In Search Of Hope

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in
death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we
believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with
Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you
that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not
precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from
heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet
call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and
are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.
And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these
words.
(1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)

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    Not very long ago, two historians named Charles Philips and Alan Axelrod finished off years of research by publishing a massive book called “The Encyclopedia Of Warfare.” I haven't bought the book – yet – but I've read some reviews of it. The research sounds as if it was painstaking and detailed. Philips and Axelrod studied almost two thousand wars that have been fought in recorded human history. Now, that's a lot of wars. Two thousand! Especially when you consider that recorded human history goes back maybe six thousand years and that many of the wars fought were multi-year conflicts. So, what you've probably heard at some point in your life is probably true – there is almost always a war going on somewhere all the time. That's a sobering thought. It should be especially sobering for Christians who claim to follow a Lord who is known as the Prince of Peace and whose ethical teachings revolved primarily around love. I suppose that if there's good news that we as people of faith can take from Philips' and Axelrod's work it's that they also challenge one of the widely accepted myths of our society – which is that religion is at the root of most wars. In fact, their research established that less than 7% of the wars fought in human history have been religiously motivated. The myth probably arose because nations have a tendency to use religious language and to usurp religious symbols in order to justify their wars and call their people to arms, but religion itself isn't the cause of very many wars. Wars are fought over much more “earthy” matters like power and territory and resources. Many nations over the span of human history seem to have operated on the basis of “you have what I want, and I believe I have the right to take it – so I will.” That's what causes war. So, for me, their research includes a glimmer of something positive, but still – almost two thousand wars in about six thousand years of human history. I think of a line from one of our familiar Christmas carols (“and warring humankind hears not the love song which he brings”) and I find myself suspecting that God weeps more than we can possibly imagine. And I wonder – with this sad historical record, is there hope? Hope for peace? Or at least hope for something better?

Then I read Paul's words in 1 Thessalonians: we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.” I admit this morning that I'm doing something that often irritates me: I'm taking this verse totally out of its immediate context. Can I justify doing that by saying that the Holy Spirit led me to do it? In the context of the wider passage, it's clear that Paul is trying to address a word of hope to Christians who are starting to see their brothers and sisters pass away without Jesus having returned. They're grieving death, and they're losing hope. And Paul reminds them that while grieving is natural, hopelessness cannot be indulged in for those who truly believe in Jesus. Can there be any greater source of hope, after all, than to believe in and follow a Lord who died and was resurrected? If we believe that then how can we possibly fall into hopelessness? And regardless of the immediate context, I think it's all right to think of a broader principle involved here. That principle is that hopelessness can never be allowed to triumph; we can never give up hope. We always have to live with a belief that something better is not only possible but that something better is coming. Our faith demands it. Our faith should bring that hope forth from us. And let's think about grief. Paul is certainly talking about the grief we feel when people we know and love die. That saddens us. Maybe because it hurts us to be without them; maybe because we know that it hurts others who shared that person's life and love. Just a few days ago, I learned that a former parishioner from Newfoundland whose family Lynn and I were very close to for three years had died. I felt grief. I hadn't seen Percy in almost 20 years, but I know how much pain his death must have caused his family – and for three years they were our family in a very real and meaningful way. So I grieved. I grieved for Percy and I grieved for those who were dealing with grief far more powerful than I was feeling. But we feel grief for different reasons as well. How can we look at the world today and not feel a sense of grief?

    For the last few days, every time I watch the news I see that a regular note on the scroll at the bottom of the screen tells us that CF-18 fighters flew another combat mission – now against ISIS in Iraq. Once again, war hits home. It's reality. Its ugliness. Real people are risking their lives. Real people are dying. I don't propose to say whether it's right or wrong for us to be taking part in this newest outbreak of war. In our discussion group this past Tuesday, we talked about this in the light of two seemingly contradictory commandments from Jesus: love your neighbour (or love others) and love your enemy. ISIS is a nasty group. They do terrible things. They kill innocent people for no reason other than disagreeing with them. You can argue that if ISIS is our “enemy” then the people they're killing are our “neighbours.” How do we love them both? Can we love them both? Or does trying to protect our neighbour by trying to put an end to this group mean that loving our neighbour trumps loving our enemy? It's complicated. I don't have an answer to that. As followers of Jesus, we do the best we can to live in love, and sometimes we have to make tough choices, and sometimes those choices will be right and sometimes those choices will be wrong. I trust in God's grace. I trust that if our hearts are in the right place, God will honour that even if we make the wrong choice. But, still, we should grieve the fact that this is happening. And while our attention is on the Middle East and the battle against ISIS, it's not even counted as a “major war” by the United Nations. The United Nations defines a “major war” as one in which there are at least one thousand battlefield deaths per year. The most recent numbers tell us that there are currently, by this definition, eight “major wars” going on right now, and up to two dozen “lesser wars” being fought. And 75% of those who die in war in the modern world aren't soldiers who die on the battlefield, they're are civilians who get caught in the middle. It's sobering. It should fill us with grief.

    But - we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.” The reality of the world around us fills us with grief. The reality of how far the world is from what we know God would like it to be fills us with grief. If it doesn't, then there's something wrong with our faith. Even if we sometimes think that a particular war is necessary, or that we have no choice but to fight a particular war, the days of World War I, when people joined together to celebrate their nation's declaration of war on another nation are long gone. Today, we should only grieve when such things happen. And we should pray. We should pray because we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.”

    Our hope is in God. Our hope is in a God who is love. Our hope is in a God who sent Jesus to be the “Prince of Peace.” Our hope is in a God who gives his people visions like the one shared with us by the Prophet Isaiah: “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” That's a vision of a world at peace. That's a promise from God.

    The great German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who was no friend of religion but who did rather admire Jesus Christ, wrote that “perpetual peace is no empty idea, but a practical thing which, through its gradual solution, is coming always nearer its final realization...” I believe that, as aware as we are of war and violence in the world around us, that's true. I believe it's true because I believe in God, and I believe that God wants his children to live in peace. I believe it's true because I believe in Jesus, and I believe that Jesus is the Prince of Peace.

    So, I grieve. I grieve for those who have given their lives in times of war, and who have left behind broken-hearted loved ones and a country that remains strong and free for me to live in. I grieve for those who are called to fight wars today, because of the effect it must have on them. I grieve for those who are the civilian victims of war, who usually have no choice in the matter but who suffer greatly. I grieve for the world's loss of innocence. I grieve because violence and warfare have become such an everyday thing that we sometimes take them for granted. I grieve for all those reasons. But I do not grieve as do those who have no hope – because I believe in Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who died and who rose to life again. And I have hope because our Lord, who could overcome death, can surely overcome the human tragedy of war and create that world where “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” May that vision become a reality.

Monday 3 November 2014

A Thought For The Week Of November 3

"He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers - all of them skilled workers and designers." (Exodus 35:35) Minute details and unfamiliar names are a part of reading the Old Testament. In Exodus 35:30-35, we read the story of Bezalel and Oholiab, and we get a lot of details. Perhaps we get lost in them and choose to turn away to something more exciting. But we have to remember a basic principle: all Scripture has something to teach us about God - although sometimes it isn't obvious and we have to look hard for it. And, of course, all Scripture teaches us something about ourselves and the human condition, although again sometimes we have to look hard to find the lesson. If you look hard at this passage, you find the message. Christians all too often look for "spiritual gifts" - the dramatic manifestations of the Holy Spirit that amaze us and sometimes confound us. I've heard Christians who are rather dismissive of what you might call everyday skills and abilities as if they're spiritually unimportant. But they're not. This passage shows that.  Bezalel and Oholiab were craftsmen of various kinds, and they were quite skilled craftsmen, as the passage shows with some detail. And this passage is clear that these skills and abilities came from God. The Lord filled Bezalel with "all kinds of skills," and the Lord gave both him and Oholiab "skill to do all kinds of work." All our skills and abilities come from God. Which also means that we should use them to serve God - and the best way of doing that today is to use them in some way for the benefit of others. A wonderful example of this principle today is the organization "Habitat for Humanity," where people can use their skills and abilities to assist others who need a helping hand. You see, it not just the signs and wonders that we associate with spiritual gifts that are important in living a life of faith. It's using the skills and gifts God has given us for the benefit of others, often quietly and without drawing attention to ourselves. What skills or abilities has God given you? Someone could benefit from them! Have a great week!

November 2 sermon: The Work Of God's Word

Surely you remember, brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you. You are witnesses, and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed. For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory. And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is indeed at work in you who believe.
(1 Thessalonians 2:9-13)

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     I want us to hear the last few words of that passage again:

“And we also thank God continually  because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is indeed at work in you who believe.”

     OK. So what is this “word?” Let's be honest. In church, within the Christian faith, we use the phrase “the word of God” repeatedly, and we assume that we know what it means. It's the Bible, of course. Yes. In our context, in 2014, based on – well – about 1700 years of tradition, it's the Bible. Of course, we'd then have to get into a debate about what the Bible is. The three great divisions of Christianity (Protestantism, Catholicism and Orthodoxy) don't actually agree on what's in the Bible. We agree on the basis 66 books that Protestants accept, but the other two groups have books that we don't accept. So, even today, and even within the Christian family, to say that the word of God is the Bible leads to differences of opinion. For Paul, way back in the 1st century, it was more complicated still. What was the word of God for him? It wasn't the Bible, because the Bible didn't exist. It wasn't the Jewish Scriptures, because that's not what he's talking about in this passage. It was some other word. We have to figure it out from his perspective in order to really understand what he's saying. For Paul, the word wasn't so much about “the words” that were spoken. It's not about the content of what's said, it's about the nature of what's said and it's about the impact of what's said.

     What Paul seems to be talking about is the “word” as it was originally meant to be. When I was in theological college, Gerald Sheppard, who was my Old Testament professor, suggested something that to some Protestants might be considered heresy. He said that in his view one of the things that has most weakened the church was the advent of pew Bibles, because it meant that all too often the people in the pews stopped truly hearing the word, and satisfied themselves with just reading along. His view was that the power of the word was in hearing it. It was hearing the word that had the real power to transform people. And Paul seemed to say the same thing. It was a powerful word, this “word of God” that Paul spoke of, and its impact came from people who heard it from Paul. The point wasn't that Paul spoke the word of God, the point was that the word of God was spoken, that it was heard, and that it changed the lives of those who heard it. It was itself a living word. As much as we think of the Bible as the word of God, the word of God has to be more than simply the words on a page. If we reduce the word of God to words on a page we empty it of its power. In fact, going back to what I said a couple of weeks ago, if we reduce the word of God to words on a page what we've done really is create an idol. The Bible has to push us beyond the Bible. The Bible has to draw us toward God, because the Bible isn't God. The Bible has to draw us toward Jesus, because Jesus is the ultimate revelation of God and of God's nature.

     I suspect this is what Paul was getting at when he referred to the “word of God.” In a way, he was anticipating what John would write decades later, that “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God ... and the word became flesh.” When Paul says that the Thessalonians (and so many others over the course of his ministry) heard the word of God from him, he means that he had been given the privilege of introducing people to Jesus, who had the ability to change their lives. He did that by speaking, of course. So the word of God is literally a word – it's spoken, it's heard – but the word of God goes beyond the word that's spoken. The word of God is, in a literal sense, Jesus himself. What the Thessalonians actually did when they “received the word of God” was that they chose to believe in Jesus and to pattern their lives after him. They were introduced to Jesus by Paul; they came to know Jesus through Paul; they were changed by Jesus through hearing Paul. Matthew Henry wrote that “by its wonderful effects [God's Word] evidences itself to be the word of God.” Or, as Paul wrote, the word of God “encourages us, comforts us and urges us to live lives worthy of God.”

     Paul is an interesting one to think about as we reflect on what, exactly, the word of God is and on what, exactly, it does. We now call Paul's letters the “word of God,” because we've put them in the Bible. Paul would never have been that bold. To him, the “word of God” was what he said to the churches he visited, not what he wrote to them. And, what he said to them was always about Jesus. It's why so many of his letters, I suspect, touch on what we might call moral issues, or behavioural issues. In his preaching, when he was face to face, Paul didn't consider these things important. All that mattered was Jesus, and so later, as time went by, some of the people he had introduced to Jesus started to wonder about their behaviour; they started concerning themselves with what was and what wasn't sin; with what acts were or weren't sinful; with what lifestyles God did or didn't approve of. And Paul tried to offer guidance, but I'm quite sure that Paul never believed that he was writing the “word of God.” He was writing his own letters to Christian communities that he had shared Jesus with – Jesus, who was the word of God, and who had the power to transform lives. That's what makes the word of God the word of God. It has the power to transform lives.

     Two things happened when Paul preached to the Thessalonians: Paul was at work proclaiming the word to them, but it was God who was at work in them through what they were hearing. The truly proclaimed word of God witnesses to the nature and activity of God, revealed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and it encourages others to follow the path that he lays out before them. And how do we know if the 'word' is at work within us? We know because we'll start to live more and more like Jesus. The word will show itself in our lives by works that are expressions of our faith: by our willingness to accept a labour of love as our calling and to touch the lives of others by doing so. Just as God's power is shown in life-giving ways that offer life, love and dignity to all, the word of God should show itself in us in both the desire and willingness to engage in those same life giving ways that offer life, love and dignity to all.

     Paul understood that if there was no love, there was no word of God present. Still today, if there is no love, there is no word of God present, no matter how much the Bible gets read – because all too often people choose to use the Bible in hateful and venomous ways toward those they disagree with. It becomes a hammer to hit people over the head with rather than a magnet to attract people to God. That's why the word of God has to be more than the Bible – because the Bible can be used in very unholy and and unloving and ungodlike ways. But the word of God is always about love, and the word of God is Jesus. It's about sharing the good news about Jesus and his way; it's about introducing people to Jesus and his way; it's about encouraging people to follow Jesus and his way.

     The word of God is a powerful, life-giving and life-changing word. I want to end today with some words from Matthew Henry: “The words of men are frail and perishing, like themselves, and sometimes false, foolish, and fickle: but God’s word is holy, wise, just, and faithful; and, like its author, lives and abides for ever. Let us accordingly receive and regard it.”