I've Been Thinking About Why We Pray

My column for the In Port News, to be published next week:

At a study group I was leading not very long ago, someone raised a question about prayer. It's not the first time I've been asked this question. “If God already knows everything – even what it is that we're going to ask – then why should we bother asking in the first place? What's the point of even praying?”

Really, it's not a bad question. Looked at logically, it does seem like a bit of a pointless exercise, to ask someone something even though they already know what we're going to ask for and what we need. Are we wasting time and energy by praying? And, of course, there are those who reject the idea that there could be a God who knows everything. I've sometimes heard the argument that even the most advanced and complex computer we could imagine wouldn't be able to know everything that people of faith claim God knows. Which, of course, represents a problem in the perception of God. We perceive God according to what's possible for us, and we find it difficult to imagine that a God could exist who can do things that we're not capable of doing. We could go a long way talking about that point, but I'm more interested in the question of why we pray if God already knows what we're going to say.

I suppose, first, that we pray simply because it's an act of faith. Praying to God is a way of demonstrating (whether to God or to ourselves) that we believe. We surely wouldn't waste our time praying to a God in whom we don't believe, so praying becomes a very open and personal way in which we express that simple concept that “God, we believe.” The fact that we pray demonstrates that we have faith. The fact that we have faith causes us to pray. Each strengthens the other.

Second, we pray in order to build our relationship with God. We believe in God, so we want to be in relationship with God. But, of course, it's pretty hard to be in relationship with someone if you never bother speaking to them. I try to spend some time early in my day in prayer. It's a way of saying, “Good morning, God. I'm glad you're still with me.” It reminds me as the day begins that it always begins with God present. Praying reminds me that God is always with me. Praying makes me feel closer to God.

Third, we pray to build our relationships with others and to increase our sense of community and connectedness with those around us. When we gather together in worship, there's always a part of the service set aside for what we call “intercessory prayer” or, in some traditions, “prayers of the people.” These are the prayers we address to God seeking help for those who have need. We know that God already knows about these needs. We're not giving God any information or knowledge that God doesn't already possess. But we pray for each other because it reminds us that we're a community – a family; the family of God – and that we care about each other. It means a great deal to me when people tell me that they've been praying for me. It binds us together with each other. It's part of being a caring community.

Finally, we pray because it's good for us – in a lot of different ways. It's good for us spiritually for all of the above reasons. Prayer is good for us emotionally because prayer can be almost cathartic – it gives us a way to express our deepest feelings to someone who will never hold anything we say against us; it allows us to be completely open and honest. Prayer is even good for us physically. I've seen studies that suggest that those who pray (or engage in other spiritual disciplines on a regular basis) are generally healthier. They have lower levels of stress, lower blood pressure, and other positive physical results.

We don't pray because we want to tell God something that God already knows. We pray because it's good for us – in all sorts of ways!

A Thought For The Week Of January 26, 2015

"There are those who turn justice into bitterness and cast righteousness to the ground." (Amos 5:7) If you read all of Amos 5, you're struck by how many references there are to justice - and, therefore, how important the concept of justice must have seemed to Amos. I've sometimes been among those who have criticized the United Church of Canada for putting too much emphasis on justice - and I do believe that the concept can be used in a negative way to shut down legitimate debate and discussion rather than to further the interests of those who need justice. Still, you really can't deny that justice is a huge issue in the Bible - in Amos, in most of the prophets and for Jesus himself. We might not always be able to agree on what justice is, but we are to seek it. This chapter makes it clear that for God it's more important that his people show justice than that they worship devoutly (although I'd argue that the two complement each other.) I said that we might not be able to agree on what justice is. Maybe not - although, really, it doesn't seem all that complicated to me. To show justice is to treat all people fairly and with dignity. It's to lift up those who are cast down by society, who aren't a part of the in crown and whose voices often go unheard. If we don't do that then we're not doing justice. Tragically, too often we don't do that. Verse 7 seems a key to understanding the concept of justice and how it can be abused. "There are those who turn justice into bitterness." That seems to me to be what happens when we use the concept of "justice" as an excuse merely to punish. When justice is motivated by anger and a sense of revenge then we've misunderstood. Justice always has to be mixed with mercy, because God is a God of mercy. That's not to say that there are to be no consequences for wrongdoing - but mercy must always be a part of the equation. When justice is used only as an excuse to hand out punishment and nothing else, then somehow we've lost our way, and we've lost sight of God's ways.

January 25 sermon - A Perfect Combination

Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. How long will you assault me? Would all of you throw me down - this leaning wall, this tottering fence? Surely they intend to topple me from my lofty place; they take delight in lies. With their mouths they bless, but in their hearts they curse. Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. ... One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”; and, “You reward everyone according to what they have done.”

(Psalm 62:5-8 & 11-12)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     Some things just go together. Think about what the old song says - love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage. We know that. Perhaps not surprisingly I think of food combinations! Spaghetti and meatballs. Bacon and eggs. Fish and chips. And, while I’m not much for alcohol, and we very rarely have alcohol in the house, I have to confess that when I attend a wedding reception I tend to select as my choice of a celebratory beverage a rum and coke. There’s another perfect combination. And, from time to time, I do find myself at some sort of event that serves wine and cheese! There are all sorts of these perfect combinations - combinations literally so perfect that you really can’t think of one without the other. They just go together. One leads us to the other, and one without the other seems incomplete. But the Bible doesn’t always follow that rule. Sometimes the Bible holds together things that don’t seem to go together all that well. Jesus, for example, is both lamb and shepherd. Those two concepts don’t complement each other - they’re contradictory. It’s impossible to be both, and yet Jesus is both. Jesus is also fully human and fully divine in nature. That's a tough concept to wrap our heads around. It’s a part of the wonder and the mystery of our faith. As I hear these selected verses from Psalm 62 that were read just a few moments ago, I’m struck by this: “... Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love …”

     Those are qualities that we don’t very often link together: power and love. They seem somehow not only inconsistent but even opposed to each other. In the context of relationships, power is cold and often heartless. It’s about control and it focuses on one person establishing and exercising authority over another person. Sometimes, for example, we talk about governments being elected, emphasizing the will of the people, but just as often (and maybe more often) we speak of governments "coming to power" - emphasizing their newfound ability to do whatever they darn well choose to do. Love, on the other hand, is emotional and it’s about romance and it focuses on two people who are partners walking hand in hand through life, co-operating as partners rather than competing as rivals. Or, at least, those are probably the images that come to mind when we think about power and love. Let's think a bit more for a moment about the way the two are usually perceived.

     In day to day terms, power is generally seen in terms of coercion. We exercise power in order to get people to do what we want. We exercise power in order to get our way. We exercise power in order to further our own agenda. Power, unfortunately, is usually about us and what we want. In extreme cases, power isn't only coercive - it becomes downright abusive and oppressive. The thoughts and feelings and well-being of others become at best secondary concerns and at worst of no concern. It was Lord Acton, the 19th century British historian, who said that "power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." People usually leave out the next sentence of the quote, but I think it's worth adding. Acton continued, "Great men are almost always bad men." When the focus is on power, good rarely triumphs.

     And what about love? How does the world divine love? In worldly terms, love is an emotion - an emotional response to someone or an emotional attachment with someone. Love is equated with passion. In a lot of entertainment media love is equated with sex. Sometimes, too often, love is cheapened so we talk about loving not people but things - which is actually a pretty good fit with a materialistic world which often determines a person's value not by their qualities or ethical standards, but by how much "stuff" they have. And when love is based on this kind of understanding, then love is fleeting, lasting only until something or someone we deem "better" comes along, or only as long as it's returned.

     Tempering power with love seems to be a bad fit. Power is about raw strength. Love isn't weakness, but it does seem like something that would detract from sheer power. But it doesn't have to be so. Power and love don't have to be so different; so contradictory. Power and love can co-exist. In fact, they do co-exist - with God.

     "Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love." What if power wasn't coercive or abusive? What if power didn't focus on getting my way? What if power was manifested instead in compassion and gentleness? What if power was focused instead on the well-being of the other. So it is with God! And love? What if love wasn't seen as just an emotion? What if it wasn't equated with passion and sex? What if love, rather than an emotion, was an action - reaching out always and extending kindness and compassion? What if love, rather than being a passionate response to someone that seeks a passionate response in return or else it's taken away, became something that was simply poured out, with no expectation of anything in return. What if we just loved others because we love? So it is with God!

     In the world, power and love aren't usually a good fit. In God, they're a perfect combination. So should it be with God's people: may we be powerful enough to love without expecting any return, and loving enough to change the world - just as it is with God!

Video Version

January 21 sermon - A Thirst-Quenching God

(Preached for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity service at First Presbyterian Church in Port Colborne.)

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)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     It’s been said that the only two things in life that are certain are death and taxes. Both do seem inevitable. But I’m not sure that they’re the only two things in life that are certain. I have a feeling that thirst is probably also an experience that binds the human family together. Now, thirst exists in degrees. If you’re living in the desert, or in a land where fresh water is scarce, your thirst is very real and potentially life threatening. We have the good fortune to live in Canada, a country that’s rich in fresh water. When we want a drink we go to the nearest tap and we turn it on. Or we have shelf after shelf in grocery stores filled with bottled water that we can access. We take it for granted. We don’t realize how much we take it for granted until we find ourselves in a place where easy access to fresh water can’t be taken for granted. Almost ten years ago, when I traveled to China, one of the first things that struck me was the stern advice we were given to never (EVER) drink the tap water, because it would make us sick. We were told to use only bottled water, even for something as mundane as brushing our teeth, and it was even suggested that we should take baths rather than showers because there was less chance of the water getting in our mouths that way. In spite of all that advice we still found ourselves going into the bathroom in the hotel room and turning on the tap. Eventually, to play it safe, we put a sign right beside the tap to remind us not to drink the water from it. All because we’ve been raised in an environment which teaches us to take water for granted. But in spite of how easy it is for us to find fresh water, most of us have still experienced the sensation of being thirsty. How often have we heard people say “I’m dying of thirst.” We’re not, of course. But even if you’re not literally dying of thirst, just being thirsty is not a pleasant experience.

     I think about the people of Israel described in our passage from Exodus. Wandering in the desert, scorched by the hot sun in the day and troubled by cold nights - and with no water to be found. This was thirst. And it was a thirst that caused people to be desperate. A people who were prone to arguing and quarreling among themselves suddenly became a united group with one common quest - to kill Moses because he had set them free but then led them into a land where it seemed that there was no other fate waiting for them than to die of thirst. Fortunately for Moses, God stepped into the picture and let him off the hook by providing water from a source where water should not have been found. The moral of the story, I suppose, is that God provides - often in mysterious and inexplicable ways, often not until all other hope seems lost - but, still, God provides.

     We, living here in Canada, may not have the same problem of thirst that the people of Israel had, as rich as we are with water. But we thirst for other things, I think. We thirst for hope, we thirst for an experience with something greater than ourselves. The fastest growing religious designation today in Canada isn’t atheism - it’s the so-called “spiritual but not religious movement.” The very presence of that movement is a sign of the spiritual thirst of our society, and the tragedy is that just as Moses was unable to provide water to quench the thirst of his people, so many of our churches today seem unable to provide the spiritual thirst quencher that people are looking for. People turn on the church, they dismiss the church, they’re increasingly hostile to the church in some cases. Don’t get me wrong - we’re not persecuted. It really grates on me when I hear Christians in Canada or the United States talking about being persecuted because the Lord’s Prayer isn’t said in schools anymore. Let’s get real. There are Christians getting their heads cut off and being forced into slavery in the Middle East right now. That’s persecution. We experience minor inconveniences that are nothing in comparison. The type of hostility toward the church that I’m speaking of is reflected in the dismissal by so many “spiritual people” of the idea that the church can provide any sort of meaningful encounter with God - or at least with something greater than ourselves. That’s reflected when we see churches that are so obviously concerned more with themselves than with their neighbours; more concerned with their own survival than with sacrificing themselves for something greater; more fixated on who’s going to chair this or that committee than on who’s going to take on this or that outreach mission. These are all things I’ve heard as reasons why people give up on the church - and, I have to confess, there’s some validity to them.

     It’s a dry and thirsty spiritual land that we as a church are called to engage, but it seems we’ve become a little bit like Moses in the desert - fearful of people turning against us, dreading what tomorrow might bring, feeling ourselves under siege, not able to figure out where to go or what way to turn. But, like Moses again, we also have a resource if we’ll only have the faith to access it - a resource that will tell people that we (of any denomination) are the church; that we (of any denomination) are the people of God; that we (of any denomination) have a common purpose. But we have to be willing to do that. People see us so caught up in our difference over points of doctrine or governance and they  give up on us. “What good is the church?” they ask. “Those Christians can’t even agree among themselves.”

     Moses got out of a tough spot by placing his trust in God. He cried out in despair and God reminded him that he was not alone; that God was with him. And God provided a source of water for the people from the most unexpected source. Can we get out of a tough spot? I believe we can. God has provided us with the source of life giving water. Jesus said, “whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” If we want to quench the spiritual thirst of the society around us, then God has given us what we need - not doctrine, not buildings, not beautiful stained glass windows - God has given us Jesus. We need to stand for Jesus, celebrating he who unites us rather than focusing on those things that divide us. Perhaps, then, knowing that all we have to offer is an encounter with Jesus, the living water can begin to flow to the spiritually dry and thirsty we encounter every day.

A Thought For The Week Of January 19, 2015

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." (Philippians 4:6)  As Christians, we should want to be effective witnesses for the difference faith makes in a person's life. If that's so, then perhaps we find the key to how to do that contained in this one verse: "do not be anxious about anything." Let's face it - we can talk about our faith all we want, and we can be as joyful as a person can be, but when we have nothing particular to be anxious about all that talk and joy mean little. When our faith makes a difference - to both ourselves and others - is when times are troubled, and we're not sure exactly what's going to happen, and by normal standards we'd have every right to be anxious. But if, in those circumstances, we can continue to be faithful, trusting completely in God, then we show that faith does make a difference. That, perhaps, gives others a reason to look to Christ and try to understand why he's so important to us, and why he might just be equally important to them. But when a Christian becomes consumed with anxiety or worry or fear over what the future holds, then what incentive do we give anyone to believe that faith is a meaningful thing? This verse even gives us practical advice about how to avoid anxiety! Give over all our concerns and needs to God - and be thankful to God even before those concerns are sorted out or those needs are met. In other words, whatever might be upon us at any given time, let's recognize what God has already done for us - and for others - and let's allow that knowledge to take away our anxieties and fears and allow us to live at peace no matter what's going on in our lives. That's a more effective witness than any "Bible-thumping" can ever be!

January 18 sermon - Are We Still Listening?

The boy Samuel ministered before the Lord under Eli. In those days the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions. One night Eli, whose eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see,was lying down in his usual place. The lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the house of the Lord, where the ark of God was.Then the Lord called Samuel. Samuel answered, “Here I am.” And he ran to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” But Eli said, “I did not call; go back and lie down.” So he went and lay down. Again the Lord called, “Samuel!” And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” “My son,” Eli said, “I did not call; go back and lie down.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord: The word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. A third time the Lord called, “Samuel!” And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” Then Eli realized that the Lord was calling the boy. So Eli told Samuel, “Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

(1 Samuel 3:1-10)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     A few years ago one of our sisters denominations - the United Church of Christ in the United States - adopted a new slogan. It’s still in pretty wide use and it’s not uncommon, if you happen to pass by a United Church of Christ congregation, that you’ll see a banner hanging on the outside of the building with the words “God Is Still Speaking” on it. I like the message. I think there are a lot of people out there who wonder if God really is still speaking. If they haven’t become atheists, some people are nevertheless still stuck in the 1960’s with the whole “God is dead” movement. People see things happening in the world that don’t at all match what believe a loving God would want, and so the natural tendency for some, even if they’re believers, is to assume that God has stopped speaking, that God has abandoned us and left us to fend for ourselves as best we can. “God Is Still Speaking” tries to reach out to those folks; to convince them that God still has a word to be shared with us.

     I started thinking about that problem and that United Church of Christ slogan when I read the opening words of our passage today. “In those days the word of the Lord was rare.” Why would that be? Why would God suddenly stop speaking to his people whom he had led out of slavery and out of the wilderness and into the Promised Land? And not only was God’s word rare, “there were not many visions” either. It was as if people were not only convinced that God wasn’t speaking to them anymore; they had stopped seeing God. They had stopped dreaming their dreams. God was simply not a part of their thought process anymore. And God took the blame. “The word of the Lord was rare.” It sounds as if God was being accused of no longer caring for his people. But is that really what was happening? If we have trouble hearing God’s voice today and developing our own visions for what God wants of us and dreams for us and offers to us - is that God’s fault. I appreciate the slogan “God Is Still Speaking” - and I believe it as well. But I wonder if it’s a slogan that’s answering the wrong question. Perhaps the question isn’t “is God still speaking?” Perhaps the real question is “Are we still listening?”

     That strikes me as a valid question. Too often, I think we fail to hear God, even though God speaks clearly in many and various ways. But when things don’t go our way, or when things happen that don’t seem consistent with what we believe about God or when we find ourselves confused and torn in different direction about this or that our immediate reaction is to deflect the blame - it’s to assume that God isn’t present, or that God has abandoned us, or that God has simply stopped speaking to us. It seems to me that it’s not very often that we look at ourselves and wonder whether the real problem we face is that we have simply stopped listening for God; stopped believing that God is there for us.

     This is what was happening to the people of God as our passage opened this morning. Last week we talked about light and how important it is to us, and that light really meant the revelation of God. In Israel in Samuel’s day the light had almost gone out. People weren’t hearing God, they weren’t receiving visions, and the whole problem was symbolized by the old priest Eli, whose eyes “were becoming so weak that he could barely see.” It isn’t a positive picture. God’s people are groping in the dark, feeling as if they’ve been left without guidance. In the biblical chronology, the events in 1 Samuel come right after the events of Judges - and the very last words of Judges were ominous: “In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit.” In other words, chaos had begun to erupt because the people were no longer trusting God to guide them. But was that true? Again - had God stopped speaking, or had the people stopped listening? This whole interplay between Samuel, Eli and God seems to sum up the problem that existed. God kept calling - Samuel kept thinking it was someone else calling - and Eli kept denying that anyone was calling! And it just kept going over and over. God speaking, but people refusing to listen; people refusing to understand. When darkness moves in, it’s easy for us to simply turn away from God.

     So, let’s fast forward a few thousand years. It’s easy to see how darkness can move in and take hold of us and of our society. It’s easy to see how God and God’s ways can be pushed away, and the problem, as I’ve been saying the last couple of weeks, is that when we push God and God’s ways aside, we have nothing to replace them with except our own petty prejudices, with some claiming God’s sanction for the chaos that ensues, and others claiming that the chaos itself shows that God isn’t there anymore. We’ve seen more than enough evidence of that in the last couple of weeks alone. But the real problem isn’t that God isn’t there or that God isn’t speaking. The real problem is that we simply aren’t hearing. We don’t hear the angel chorus singing “peace on earth, good will to all.” We don’t hear the Bible telling us that “God is love.” We don’t hear the words of Jesus telling us to love unconditionally - a love we’re to extend even to our enemies. We just don’t hear. Maybe we’ve stopped listening. I wonder how many times God speaks and we become like Samuel - assuming it must be someone else. I wonder how many times God speaks and we become like Eli - denying that anyone is speaking at all. Just in these ten verses, Eli and Samuel seem to become great examples of how easy it can be to give up on God.

     With all due respect to our friends in the United Church of Christ - and I have lots of friends in the United Church of Christ - the real question isn’t whether God is still speaking. God is always speaking. The real question is whether we’re still listening. And all too often I think the answer is that we’re not. I’ve referred before to one of my favourite editorial cartoons - with God looking at the earth, a tear falling, and saying “What part of “thou shalt not kill” did you not understand? We understand well enough. We just choose not to listen! But there’s hope. There’s always hope. Because there’s God, there’s always hope. If we go back to the story of Eli and Samuel, we discover that for all their refusal to accept that God might be speaking, “the lamp of God had not yet gone out.” It still hasn’t. The light still shines; God’s word is still there; God’s voice can still be heard; God’s will can still be understood. A call to peace. A call to love. It’s not hard to hear. We just have to listen!

A Thought For The Week Of January 12, 2015

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him." (Psalm 62:5) In the light of recent events in the world (and specifically the terrorist attacks against the newspaper office in Paris, France) I find this verse and the promise that it holds out very meaningful. It's very easy to allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the bad things that happen in the world; by the ghastly things that go on and that seem to keep going on. The terrorist attack on a Paris newspaper office to avenge offence that the newspaper caused was horrific - and for many, understandably frightening. And I can easily understand why some might be turned off all religion as a result of what happened and that others might seek revenge against those of other faiths who get blamed. But, first, I always remember that religious extremists exist in all religions (including in Christianity) and that they're capable of doing horrible things. Then, when I read a verse like this, I'm reminded of one of the key concepts of my own faith (and I believe this is a concept universal to all faiths) - that in God there is peace. What does that suggest? I would argue that as people who believe in God we shouldn't live in fear. Living in fear is obviously not living in peace. Faith should release us from fear rather than bind us with fear. In fact, I'd suggest that religious extremists of all stripes are themselves acting out of fear. If you don't have the strength to simply live your own faith and share it peacefully but instead have the need to bully others into agreeing with you or at least silence them into not disagreeing with you then you're not operating out of either faith or strength - you're operating out of fear and weakness. And why should anyone operate that way? After all, God is there; God is in control. Does anyone really believe that God needs believers of any stripe to commit horrific acts of violence to further some warped divine cause? I don't. As I understand it, God wants to give us peace. I find myself at peace within myself, and at peace with others of any and all faiths. That strikes me as how Jesus would want us to live!

January 11 sermon - Number 1

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning - the first day.

(Genesis 1:1-5)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     “We’re Number 1!” If you’re a sports fan - a fan of any team going - you’ve either shouted that at some point or you’ve dreamed about. Of course, if you’re a Toronto Maple Leaf fan the dream had a tendency to become a recurring nightmare, as Randy Carlyle discovered just a few days ago! But I digress. Let’s think about the dream and not the nightmare. “We’re Number 1!” There’s something pretty special about being “Number 1.” It means you’re the best, or the most important. Everything else has to be understood and evaluated against whatever it is that we decide is “Number 1.” So, I started wondering, what was “Number 1” with God? I think as humans we tend to take a very human-centred view of creation. It’s almost as if we think that everything that exists was created for us. The Bible tells us that we’re the ones who have been given “dominion” over creation after all, from a spiritual point of view we see ourselves as the pinnacle of God’s creative activity, and generally speaking we’re at the top of the food chain. We’ll eat pretty much anything - but most other critters (even the big, scary ones) will try to avoid us if they can. So, sure, maybe in that sense we’re “Number 1.” But what does the story of creation tell us? What was “Number 1” in the story of creation? What was the thing that was created from which everything else that was created (including us) flowed? That, of course - as the creation story tells us - was “light.” Light was “Number 1.” And what does that tell us about the rest of creation?

     We know light’s important. It’s especially important in the Bible. The Bible calls Jesus “the light of the world,” and Jesus tells us that we’re “the light of the world.” It’s pretty important to understand what’s being talked about. And, as I was saying with the children, it’s also important to understand the concept of darkness, because opposites help us to understand each other. One of the traditional readings from the prophets that’s often read during Christmas is from Isaiah: “the people walking in darkness have seen a great light.” There’s a contrast here; a dramatic difference between walking in darkness and living in light. And just from the natural world we know that light always overcomes darkness. As long as the sun in shining it’s not dark. It only gets dark when the source of light is hidden from us, but once the light reappears the darkness disappears. Day and night are spoken of in today’s passage - but just to make the point that there’s a huge and noticeable difference between darkness and light that affects every aspect of our lives.The light that’s created by God at the very beginning of the Bible story isn’t “day” as we understand it. It’s the light the reveals truth; the light that offers wisdom. The “light” spoken of in Genesis 1 is knowledge of God. What the opening verses of the Bible are telling us is that from the very beginning of time God has structured creation in such a way that God will be revealed; that God can be seen; that God can be approached; that God can be known. That’s what the story is telling us. That’s the “light” that transforms our lives when we choose to walk in it.

     What’s happening, after all, in these first verses in the story of creation? Order is coming into existence, replacing the chaos that existed before. People get so caught up in the details of the story that they forget the meaning of the story. I’ve heard people reject the creation story simply because it says that light was created before the sun. Well, it did, of course. There are plenty of stars that would have given light long before the sun was in existence - and those stars probably had planets so there was day and night existing somewhere in the universe too. But trying to worry about things like that misses the point. God is being made known in the very fabric of the universe; in the very order that we see in all that exists around us; in the various details that all work together to make the universe understandable and to make our own lives understandable. This is what God does: God brings order from chaos, light from darkness, hope from despair, joy from sorrow.

     All the things that threaten to tear our lives apart are overcome and our lives can be knit back together again by God whose work of creating - whose work of bringing order to chaos - never stops. I don’t know about any of you - but I do know that from time to time my life seems a bit chaotic, and it’s good to know that God is there to set things right. Whatever darkness I find myself in; whatever darkness you find yourself there - God is there, saying “let there be light.”

     And that applies to the world, of course, as well. Sometimes the world seems to be on the verge of dissolving into chaos, and of allowing darkness to triumph. Look no farther than what happened in Paris just a few days ago. Or at any of a multitude of things that happen on any given week. They can cause us to fall into fear, they can convince us that - to use an old saying - the world’s going to hell in a handbasket, and they can make us think that there’s no hope. And yet, in the midst of it all (in the midst of whatever darkness exists in the world, God is there, saying “let there be light.”

    That can even apply to the church. The church can fall into the darkness of hopelessness and despair. We’re running out of money, we’re getting older, it was so much better when … We start to think there’s no hope; we start to think that our mission is to simply survive for as long as we can. We can easily stop doing what Christians are supposed to do - which is pour love out within and beyond our own little community - and instead just focus on our problems. But in the midst of all that, if we’ll listen, God is there, saying “let there be light.”

     I can't help but think of "light" without thinking of what happened in Paris last week. There's no doubt that the terrorist attacks were acts of darkness but it seems to me that the problem is that darkness will beget more darkness if we're not careful. Revenge, hatred, fear, a willingness to give up freedom in the belief that it will make us safer. I can't help but think of Benjamin Franklin's famous teaching that anyone who gives up essential freedom to gain temporary security deserves neither freedom nor security. But revenge, hatred, fear and allowing ourselves to be cowed into giving up freedom are all forms of darkness which have nothing to do with God. But, as I said, darkness begets darkness, and in John's Gospel we're told that the real tragedy is that far too often human beings choose darkness over light. We choose to live by the ways and standards and according to the expectations of the world, rather than choosing the way of God - a way that's been revealed to us by Jesus. That's the way of love. That's the way of grace. That's the way of mercy, compassion and forgiveness. That's the way of justice. That's the way that offers dignity and respect to all. That's the way revealed to us by light - a light that darkness can never fully extinguish; a knowledge of God that will never fade away. It's the first thing created by God. It's Number 1. Nothing is more powerful.

Video Version

A Thought For The Week Of January 5, 2015

"This is the account of Shem, Ham and Japheth, Noah's sons, who themselves had sons after the flood." (Genesis 10:1) I've often said that you can find something meaningful out of pretty much any verse of Scripture if you think about it. But I was put to the test a few days ago as I was doing some reading out of the Book of Genesis. This one verse leads into a genealogy - one of those lists of who was the father of who, etc., etc., that most of us probably tend to just skip over as if they're not especially significant. And, on the surface, this one doesn't seem of much relevance either, does it. It's part of the "Noah" story. It takes place after the great flood (or whatever great catastrophe was being remembered in the story of the flood.) It lists Noah's descendants. So what? Why does it matter - especially if you take the story of the flood to be mythology rather than history (although while recognizing its mythic nature, I believe there is some history to the flood; something was being remembered - some cultural memory from the distant past.) In any event, this verse (and the genealogy that follows) does actually make an important point: life goes on! Humanity continued on, as a part of God's plan. There's a purpose to our existence; a reason that we're here.  No matter the great flood (or whatever great catastrophe it was) - life went on! That seems to me to be an important message. Life goes on! We get struck by catastrophes all the times. Sometimes they're mega-catastrophes like natural disasters or terrorist attacks, and they can cause us to fall into despair over the state of the world. More often, they're what most others would consider small things - but to us, as they affect us personally, they're catastrophes, and they can cause us to fall into despair, convinced that nothing can get better. But it can. Life goes on! No matter what - life goes on! Whatever "floods" come into your life - God still has a purpose for you, even if that purpose is no more than to love God and to love one another, which is actually a pretty important purpose.The year ahead is going to bring its share of "floods" into our lives. But life will go on. It really will. God has a purpose for you.

January 4 sermon - The Big Difference & The Big Challenge

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. 

(John 1:1-14a)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     Last week I referred to what I called Paul’s Christmas story - a handful of words in Galatians that tell us that Jesus was “born of a woman.” And that was it. Today we have another of the less familiar Christmas stories - not Matthew or Luke, but John. I love the introduction to John’s Gospel. So much is accomplished in just a few verses, and as I was reading and reflecting on the passage over the last few days, I found myself drawn to these words: “The Word became flesh.” That’s quite a statement. I think sometimes we overdo these comments - but’s that’s awesome; in fact, that’s radical! “The Word became flesh.”

     As I thought about those words I started thinking back to last Sunday’s Question & Answer service. One of the questions that was asked was along the lines of whether Christianity was “right” compared to all other religions. That’s the gist of what the question was. My answer (in part) was that as Christians we tend to focus far too much on being “right” and far too little on being humble - and I think humility is a much better witness to Jesus than constantly throwing in people’s faces that we think we’re right - because when we start to focus on being right then we even separate ourselves from other Christians, because there’s always a tendency (even in our own beloved and supposedly inclusive United Church) to assume that we know the right way to be a Christian and if everyone else would only listen to us and do it our way then everything would be all right. In the United Church we tend not to put it quite so bluntly. It’s more a passive aggressive assertion of being “right.” But it’s most definitely there. But rather than being called to be “right” all the time, we’re actually called to be humble, and it seems to me that if we really took time to think about the fact that “the Word became flesh” that would push us in the direction of being humble rather than telling everyone else that we’re right.

     Over the last few weeks, one of my repeated refrains leading up to Christmas has been that if we really want to understand and be touched by the Word of God, we have to go beyond the Bible. Too many Christians fall into the trap of thinking that the Bible is the Word of God and that’s that. Now before I get hit with accusations of heresy from here and there and everywhere (because this service is being streamed around the world!) let me explain first what I mean by that. I believe that the Bible is of divine origin and I believe that the Bible is inspired by God. I’m neither denying nor questioning that. The question, for me, is whether we see the Word of God as being merely the words on the pages of the Bible, or whether we see it as more. I believe that the Word of God is a living word that has the power in and of itself to touch people and to change people. I believe, though, that the Word of God can also be deadened. I believe we deaden it when we reduce the Word of God to mere words on a page; to nothing more than ink on paper. That takes the power away from the Word of God, and it conveniently gives all the power to - guess who - us. How does it do that? Because the moment we decide that the Word of God is nothing more than ink on a page (even if the page is in the Bible) we’re going to start to pick and choose. We’re going to let our attitudes and prejudices and pre-existing beliefs dictate how we read the Bible. That’s why Christians, frankly, have been able over the centuries to justify all sorts of obnoxious beliefs and practices and behaviours. Do you want to support slavery? Just read Ephesians 6. It assumed that there would be masters and slaves. Do you want to prevent divorced people from getting remarried? Just hang everything on Mark 10:11 and ignore everything else. Do you want to rant against homosexuals? Just throw Leviticus 18:22 at them - and ignore that a chapter later God seems pretty steamed about people with tattoos as well. But this is what happens when we decide that the Bible and the Bible alone is the Word of God. If that’s the case then the only lens we have to filter the Bible through and understand it is our own - and that renders the Bible dead because the only things alive when we do that are our own attitudes and prejudices and pre-existing beliefs. And that’s what happens with most Scriptures of most religions. They can’t really transform people who deaden their words. Instead, people warp them to suit their own  purposes. If I want to avoid the tendency to claim that Christianity is “right” - here, nevertheless, is the point at which I want to say that Christianity is (or at least can be) different. It’s all because of the Word made flesh.

     The Word made flesh gives us an appropriate lens through which to interpret the Bible, and it really isn’t that complicated. To say that Jesus is the Word made flesh means that in the life of Jesus the Word of God itself was wrapped in flesh and lived out. You interpret the Bible not by seeing if it matches what you already believe and not by letting each verse stand on its own, but by vetting it through the life of Jesus. Was the life of Jesus consistent with what you’re trying to make the Bible say? And if it isn’t - then you have to keep working at it. Remember that Jesus didn’t say that the Bible was the truth. In fact, he couldn’t have - because there was no Bible in his day. Jesus didn’t even say that the Torah was the truth. Jesus said that HE was the truth. The only way to interpret the Word of God and to be sure that it’s being lived out is to filter it through the life of the Word made flesh. “I am the way, the truth and the life,” Jesus said. The way is to follow Jesus and live as Jesus lived; the truth is Jesus himself and the example he set of how to live out the Word of God; the life is what we receive when we do it - liberation from all that frightens and oppresses us and holds us back and prevents us from truly living for God. That’s the difference of Christianity. We don’t have just words on a page or ink on paper to guide us - we have the life of Jesus, and whatever isn’t consistent with the life of Jesus (no matter how many scattered verses of the Bible we can find to justify it) isn’t the Word of God. And if that’s the difference, that’s also the challenge, isn’t it. Because it isn’t easy to do.

     Our pre-conceived notions and ideas; our pre-existing attitudes and prejudices - these are among the things that hold us captive. Jesus challenges them all. That’s why the concept of the Word made flesh is both awesome and radical. If the Word has been made flesh then it calls us to an entirely different way of looking at life; an entirely different way to live. And that’s our challenge: to live like Jesus; to love like Jesus; to forgive like Jesus. I often quote G.K. Chesterton: “Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; Christianity has been found difficult and left untried.” No, it’s not easy to live, love and forgive like Jesus. But it’s what our faith challenges us to do, because Jesus is the Word of God made flesh. We know what God asks of us not just from words on a page, but because of the Word made flesh. We know what God asks of us not just because of ink on paper, but because of the life of Jesus. That’s what’s different about what we believe, and that’s the challenge for how we should live!